[This reflection is from our team in India. More reflections, stories and updates coming soon from Philippines and Indonesia.]
“If we starve to death, will that be any better than death by coronavirus?” Shabnam* remarked, as we chatted at a safe distance next to her shack by the side of a railway track.
Numerous experts – from scientists to sociologists, epidemiologists to economists – have weighed in on India’s lockdown[i], which is now extended to 3rd May. Some have praised it as “timely, comprehensive and robust”.[ii] Others have warned that the negative economic consequences of the lockdown are extremely severe, especially for migrant workers and the poor in general.[iii]
It is extremely difficult to debate the pros and cons of any policy action which directly impacts over a billion people. I am certainly not qualified to do so! However, one set of voices is often missing from this crucial debate – voices of those who have the most to lose, both from Coronavirus itself, and heavy handed state responses to it. Hundreds of millions of impoverished families stand the greatest risk of mortality due to Covid-19 – because of malnourishment and pre-existing illnesses – and also bear heavy loss of livelihood and food security due to the lockdown. Their voices are seldom heard in the debate over how best to respond to Covid-19 – not so much because they are staying silent, rather, because nobody bothers to listen!
I have had the privilege of serving among the urban poor in Lucknow for several years – teaching literacy, helping people access basic government services like aadhar (basic ID) cards and gas connections, and assisting people navigate the medical system. Rather than treating social service as a day job, I prefer to live in a slum myself, to better understand and empathise with the lives of the poor. Here are three key messages on the lockdown which ring out from the dusty galis (alleys), but may be overlooked in the halls of power.
1. It’s hard to stay inside a shack 24/7
“Sorry Abdul, we can’t play today. Didn’t you see on TV that we should all stay in our own homes?”
My young friend looks crestfallen as I turn him away. It’s hard for a 9-year-old to understand the implications of a pandemic and lockdown. It’s even harder for him to follow the direction to stay at home when his home is tiny and he is used to roaming the alleyways freely.
Indian culture is extremely sociable, and community hospitality is especially strong amongst the poor. The idea of not going to visit your friends and family is hard to swallow. While I have been encouraging people to stay at home, we must recognise that the only way eight people can live together in a shack is for most of them to be out of the home much of the day. Clearly, social distancing within the household is near-impossible to achieve in such circumstances. Similarly, ‘work from home’ directives and guarantees of paid leave make good sense for software engineers and researchers, but remain a bad joke for the 80% of Indians working in the informal economy, including the hundreds of chai-, kabadi- and thela-walas (tea-sellers, recyclers, shop-on-a-cart operators) in our slum.[iv]
2. Policies fall over when flimsy public trust falls apart
“You should stock up on food now, or it might run out!” Mustafa warns me.
It is the evening of 24th March, and the PM has just announced a 3 week lockdown. Yet its immediate impact, at least in our slum, was highly counterproductive: for the crowds thronging the neighbourhood stores that night, ‘social distancing’ remains a distant fantasy.
While my first reaction is judgemental, my neighbours’ fears turned out to not be unfounded. Two days into the lockdown, I was unable to buy flour or eggs from my corner shop. The shopkeeper explains that he has been stopped by police when going to the wholesale market, as he does not have any official license or registration. Later, I went with him to the chowki (police booth) and we were able to resolve the issue.
These and other frictions in the supply chain, combined with hoarding and panic buying, have led to sharp inflation[v] – flour’s price has risen 50% to Rs 35/kg, and vegetables have gone through the roof. This comes at a time when people are rapidly running through what meagre savings they have.
While lockdowns have worked in China and South Korea, places with high levels of public trust and obedience, it is far less likely to succeed in India, where the public doesn’t trust the government – nor the government the public![vi]
3. Many fall through the overstretched social safety net
“What will I get?” Soni asks desperately, as community members pepper me with questions on government relief. “Nothing,” I respond apologetically, eyes downcast in shame at our society’s failure to care for her in this crisis.
The government was quick to announce a 1.7 lakh crore package to help the poor cope with the double-whammy of Covid-19 and the lockdown. However, an additional 5kg of rice through the PDS hardly ensures that ‘no one will go hungry’, nor will Rs 500 in women’s Jan Dhan accounts go very far.[vii] Boosting MGNREGS wages from Rs 182 to 202 per day is hardly the epitome of generosity, either.
Many of my neighbours, though, have fallen through the holes in the social welfare net entirely! Some of them, lacking a permanent address here, have ration cards in the village – but are unable to travel back to access their food rights. Many of them do not have Jan Dhan accounts. Receiving free gas cylinders for several months would be a great relief for my neighbours – but most of them were unable to access the Pradhan Mantri Ujjwala Yojana before it was terminated.
While the limited relief that government is providing is most welcome when and where it is received, people’s real security is in community. I have witnessed, time and again, the poor lending to each other to help in times of crisis, despite knowing they may well not get it back. Yet even this community safety net is now under intense pressure, as the majority of slum-dwellers have lost employment simultaneously.
No-one wants Covid-19 to reach epidemic proportions in India – least of all my neighbours. The government is to be commended for taking the threat very seriously, and responding rapidly. Yet the cost of a lockdown is extremely high, especially for the poor and vulnerable. There are alternatives to a lockdown: combinations of extensive testing of those showing symptoms, home-quarantine for the sick, self-isolation for the elderly and at risk, and a rapid ramp-up of medical facilities, could enable us to face a medical crisis without precipitating an economic one.[viii] Ultimately, this economic cost is also being translated into lives lost due to malnourishment, diarrhoea, tuberculosis.[ix] It will be a tragedy if, in an effort to stop the spread of a new disease with no treatment or vaccine, we forfeit far more lives to age-old diseases which are entirely preventable and cureable.[x]
*All names have been changed for confidentiality.
[i] https://scroll.in/article/957101/coronavirus-did-india-rush-into-a-lockdown-without-planning-or-did-it-have-little-choice?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=newspoint
[ii] https://news.un.org/en/story/2020/03/1060132
[iii] https://thewire.in/health/coronavirus-pandemic-covid-19-lockdown-mortality-public-health-hydroxochloroquine-icmr-panic
[iv] https://www.newsclick.in/nearly-81-indias-employed-population-informal-economy
[v] https://www.hrw.org/news/2020/03/27/india-covid-19-lockdown-puts-poor-risk
[vi] https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/amidst-lockdown-poor-need-karuna-coronavirus-6336909/
[vii] https://thewire.in/government/india-coronavirus-migrants-agriculture
[viii] https://qz.com/india/1824059/india-shouldnt-respond-to-coronavirus-with-only-lockdowns/
https://scroll.in/pulse/957025/explainer-where-does-india-stand-in-its-capacity-to-test-for-covid-19
[ix] https://scroll.in/article/957536/coronavirus-pandemic-is-there-a-reasonable-alternative-to-a-comprehensive-lockdown
[x] https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/a-tale-of-two-bugs-coronavirus-india-tb-6313305/
