Deaths in Chhattisgarh are not just numbers – they mark a deeper democratic crisis

By Sunil Kumar 

For a while, I had withdrawn into a quieter life, seeking solace in nature. But the rising tide of state-sponsored violence and recurring conflict across India has compelled deeper reflection. The recent incidents of killings in central India—particularly in Chhattisgarh—are not isolated acts. They point to a larger and ongoing crisis that concerns the health of democracy and the treatment of marginalised communities.

The recent security operations in Chhattisgarh, which resulted in the deaths of several individuals identified as Maoists, including the CPI (Maoist) General Secretary Nambala Keshav Rao alias Basavaraj, have once again brought the spotlight on the long-running conflict in tribal regions. These events highlight how militarised responses are shaping the state’s approach to dealing with dissent and insurgency.

India continues to grapple with incidents of violence based on caste, religion, gender, and ethnicity. In many tribal regions, where communities are dependent on land, forests, and water for their livelihoods, development projects have led to large-scale displacement. The resistance in these areas has often taken organised forms, some of which are linked to left-wing extremist groups like the CPI (Maoist). The growth of such insurgent movements has also led to increased state surveillance and militarisation.

Post-independence, tribal communities have faced disproportionate displacement in the name of development. Official estimates and UN reports suggest that nearly 40–50% of those displaced by large infrastructure and industrial projects are from tribal communities, though they constitute less than 9% of India’s population. The socio-economic impact of such displacement remains a critical issue, with many lacking proper rehabilitation or access to justice.

Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, and Odisha—states rich in mineral resources—have emerged as key zones in this ongoing struggle between the interests of industrial development and local communities’ rights. According to government data, these states account for the bulk of India's coal and bauxite reserves. In recent years, mining production has surged dramatically, while forest cover in several areas has reduced.

Amid this, the use of advanced military technology and specialised forces has become part of the government’s strategy against Maoist insurgency. Security forces, trained domestically and with international cooperation, have conducted sustained operations across Maoist-affected districts. These operations, however, have also resulted in allegations of excesses, human rights violations, and the targeting of innocent civilians, including women and minors.

Over the past two decades, thousands of security personnel, alleged Maoists, and civilians have lost their lives in this conflict. The state's focus on military solutions—through initiatives like Salwa Judum and Operation Green Hunt—has raised concerns among civil society groups and human rights observers about the cost of such approaches in a democracy.

One of the issues that repeatedly surfaces is the difficulty in accessing justice for those affected by violence. Whether it be cases of extrajudicial killings, custodial torture, or sexual violence, convictions and accountability have been rare. Notable incidents such as the 2012 Sarkeguda killings or the Tadmetla arson have led to judicial inquiries, but few have resulted in concrete action against perpetrators.

In several cases, family members of those killed have found it hard to even reclaim the bodies of their loved ones. The case of Basavaraj is a recent example, where legal proceedings to hand over his remains to family members were dismissed, and the state cremated the bodies citing public health concerns. Such actions have drawn criticism from legal experts and activists who question the transparency of post-operation procedures.

Maoist groups have occasionally issued public statements offering peace talks, but these overtures have often been met with silence or rejection from the state. Civil society members who have supported dialogue have themselves come under scrutiny, with their loyalty being questioned. The polarised atmosphere has made it difficult to have open discussions on the underlying causes of the conflict.

It is important to recognise that not all resistance in these regions is armed. Many protests and mobilisations by local communities have been peaceful, focusing on land rights, forest rights, and environmental concerns. However, when such protests are met with arrests, criminal charges, and suppression, it further alienates the population and erodes trust in state institutions.

There is a need to distinguish between ideological extremism and legitimate socio-economic grievances. While the state has every right and duty to act against armed insurgency and ensure national security, it must also uphold constitutional rights, ensure due process, and respect the dignity of its citizens—particularly those from vulnerable and marginalised communities.

The broader question remains: can long-term peace be achieved through militarisation alone, without addressing the root causes of discontent? Issues like displacement, underdevelopment, lack of education, and absence of basic services in tribal regions cannot be solved solely through law enforcement.

Whether one agrees with the methods or ideology of insurgent groups or not, it is clear that the continued marginalisation of tribal communities, use of excessive force, and absence of genuine dialogue are symptoms of a larger democratic deficit. It is this deficit that must be addressed if there is to be any meaningful resolution to the decades-long conflict in regions like Chhattisgarh.

Until then, deaths in these regions will continue to be counted not only as security victories or casualties, but also as markers of a deeper breakdown in democratic accountability.