A full circle of rehabilitation

Trauma-informed care must be an integral part of the support provided to victims of trafficking 

It would be impossible to discuss the new Trafficking of Persons (Prevention, Protection and Rehabilitation) Bill 2018 without first getting involved in the criticism around it. This includes alleged discriminatory slants, the vesting of enormous power in newly formed investigating bodies, effectively restricting the personal liberties of survivors at some stages of the post-rescue process, and, more importantly, the Bill having been drafted “in secret” by a ministerial committee.

Multiple inputs

While the Bill is, and should be, open to constructive public argumentation, the charge of excessive discreetness is unfounded. Having served on a State-level committee as an analyst of international policy on human trafficking while the Bill was being drafted, in 2016, I made recommendations, as a mental health professional, to develop a bulwark of rehabilitation stratagems the Bill could incorporate and enhance the rehabilitation process for survivors. Others, lawyers, activists, doctors, social workers, came in with their ideas, experiences and opinions. After respectful dissent, we were able to draw up counsel for the Bill, which has been a subject of media debate since the first draft was released.

In my work in Kashmir with children who were victims of trauma induced by political violence, it was easy to find commonalities between their lives and of (trafficked) women whose stories I began to get familiar with after reading literature on commercial sex work. Both groups had been through grievous abuse and violence; both had experienced breach of consent, their rights to their bodies transgressed.

Defining trauma

We call it trauma. Mental health professionals have definitions for it. The one most common is: “Traumatic reactions are normal reactions to abnormal situations.” So survivors of trafficking who have been confined, beaten, raped need to receive care that is designed for their needs. Under existing custodial models of rehabilitation, all survivors stay at a shelter home for at least a short period (where there is real possibility of casual stigmatising, of shaming and bullying, and of the absence of a restorative and therapeutic environment conducive to trauma recovery), until they are repatriated. And at this time, their health-care needs should ideally be evaluated beyond the hurriedly conducted medical tests. Many survivors do see a counsellor, who usually begins a generic counselling treatment with the assumption that the survivor is depressed, or is clinically traumatised. At times, this might even result in short-term positive effects. When this observation is made, mental health caregivers, who are thinly spread across government-run schemes for thousands of survivors across the country, move on to the next woman in need.

This lack of compulsory formal assessment of the survivor’s mental health status along a continuum of care is deplorable, as is the current disregard for her personal narrative that puts her trauma in context. The survivor’s internal ways of responding to her trauma may never be articulated even if she is steadfast about attending her psychosocial counselling sessions, which is unusual for most women from marginalised communities; for them, life simply gets in the way of prioritising, let alone reaching out for mental health care. Likewise, her external stressors such as family pressures, and continuing physical, emotional and sexual exploitation may continue to operate on her without her learning strategies to cope at the psychosocial counselling sessions she takes pains to attend. This is ironical because good therapy work can only happen when counsellor and subject have sat down together and made a customised blueprint for the process of counselling in true democratic fashion. For a survivor of sex trafficking, trauma-informed care must be the touchstone for a caregiver.

Chandrani Dasgupta  

 

In brief, trauma-informed care is an approach to therapy that carries within it an awareness of the prevalence of trauma in the subject, and an understanding of the impact of that trauma on the physical, emotional, and mental health of that person. At the centre of trauma-informed care is the subjectivity of the survivor, her major life events and choices, and push and pull factors that governed these decisions. Counsellors skilled in this form of care know that traumatised people will respond in unpredictable and often unusual ways to what most people find perfectly ordinary, commonplace circumstances. They will not expect stereotypical reactions to atypical situations either.

Frustratingly, for a well-meaning and altruistic counsellor, it is not uncommon for a trauma victim to reject help. A planned move away from psychosocial models of counselling — treated as a panacea of sorts by mental health professionals working with trauma survivors — and toward trauma-informed or trauma-focussed counselling can yield rich dividends, although these forms of intervention take intensive training for the professional. The survivor might reclaim her human rights and learn to recognise her purpose in life. In the end, the survivor might feel rehabilitated.

Planning ahead

The new Bill makes provisions for mental health-care professionals to make long-term interventions to safeguard survivors’ health. It also makes provisions for a rehabilitation fund, which will receive annual budgetary allocations and collections from trafficking offence fines, to potentially arrange community-based rehabilitation initiatives for survivors. This gives hope that we might train more counsellors in trauma-focussed care, intervene often and early, and design grassroots activism campaigns to generate awareness of why adequate and accessible trauma informed care models chosen with the survivor’s consent can make a world of difference. We must supply the traumatised survivor with the implements to reclaim her life, and then rehabilitation will have come full circle.

Chandrani Dasgupta is a psychologist and independent researcher. She has worked extensively in the field of human trafficking and with children, and specialises in trauma care and resilience development

Source: The Hindu, 25/12/2018

The Bhima-Koregaon issue kept the anti-caste movement busy in 2018

It is likely to spend more of its energy on electoral politics in 2019 as Lok Sabha elections are due. But the silent work of educating, agitating and organising wherever possible will go on.

Thousands of people gather every year on January 1 at Bhima Koregaon, Pune, to commemorate the defeat of the peshwas at the hands of British army in 1818. This year they were attacked on their way to the site. This was widely believed to be a planned conspiracy by right-wing organisations. The Bhima-Koregaon issue has kept the anti-caste movement busy in 2018. The obelisk that was erected in the memory of this battle by the British symbolises a momentary break in Brahmanism’s uninterrupted sway over society for about two millennia. The Bahujans heaved a sigh of relief when the reign of the Chitpavan Brahmin Peshwa rulers gave way to the British monarchy. This was because the British introduced modern values such as equality before law and access to education and government employment without caste restrictions. That explains why Jyotiba Phule called the British benevolent rulers.

After the Bhima-Koregaon issue, Bharip Bahujan Mahasangh president Prakash Ambedkar emerged as a leader to reckon with. His call for a strike in Maharashtra against the January 1 attacks was heeded by the masses. He also repeatedly asked for the arrest of Manohar Bhide and Milind Ekbote, the alleged key conspirators. Among the two emerging Bahujan leaders, Jignesh Mevani started his career as an elected politician this year after winning the Vadgam seat in the Gujarat elections held in December 2017 while the Bhim Army chief Chandrashekhar Azad ‘Ravan’ had to spend most of the year in jail under the National Security Act.

This year, the Centre conceded two long-standing demands of the backward classes. Parliament passed the Constitution (123rd Amendment) Bill in August, which gives the National Commission for Backward Classes statutory powers. In the same month, the government gave its assent to gather data on Other Backward Classes (OBCs) in the decennial census. The 2021 Census will collect data on the OBCs and enumerate their percentage in the population along with Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes. The census so far does not have data on the upper castes and their percentage in the population.

The anti-caste movement turned agitational and displayed its might when the Supreme Court diluted the Scheduled Castes and the Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act in March. The mobilisation against the Supreme Court’s ruling forced the central government to bring in amendments to restore the provisions of the Act.

The Bhima-Koregaon case was the flashpoint in the anti-caste movement in 2018. The fact that the movement was well organised and that it has made incremental gains over the years was evident from the massive crowd that gathered to celebrate the 200th anniversary of the 1818 battle. The swift response to attacks in the form of a strike, the legal support that was mobilised to fight the cases against those who were arrested in relation to it and the sympathy displayed by the media showed that this movement is no flash in the pan. But the movement has yet to gain the traction it needs to achieve its ultimate goal -- that of restructuring society on the principles of liberty, equality and fraternity. But indications are that it is getting there.

According to data collected by the Safai Karmachari Andolan, one sanitation worker dies every three day. The Safai Karmachari Andolan gained wider recognition after its national convenor, Bezwada Wilson, won the Magsaysay Award in 2016. The organisation led protests in Delhi in September against the deaths of sanitation workers and the continuing scourge of manual scavenging.

Critics feel that the government has spent more energy and money in advertising campaigns like Swachh Bharat Abhiyan than on building infrastructure and investing in technology to handle India’s waste generation. If this had been done, many feel, the Swachh Bharat Abhiyan would have produced dramatic results.

While the anti-caste movement asserts itself through agitations and participation in electoral politics, it has also focused on consciousness-raising.

When many Brahmins were agitated after Twitter CEO Jack Dorsey was pictured holding a poster that read Smash Brahminical Patriarchy in November, activists responded by calmly explaining what Brahminical patriarchy was and why looking at gender and caste as intertwined forces was necessary. This controversy also showed that battles are being waged on new grounds and the movement is using digital platforms effectively to carry its agenda forward.

The movement, for all its successes, faces formidable challenges as it enters the new year. It is likely to spend more of its energy on electoral politics in 2019 with the Lok Sabha elections coming up. But the quiet work behind the scenes , that of educating, agitating and organising wherever possible will go ahead slowly but surely.

Tejas Harad is a social and political commentator

Source: Hindustan Times, 31/12/2018

Imagining 2019: The system isn’t warped, the system is us

Some of us have always lived in dystopias. Inclusiveness, empathy and hope are the brickwork of the future.

Imagining things like the future is the trick of the trade of us science fiction and fantasy (SFF) writers. But in a way we are also interpreters of history. Whether we’re writing futures or different worlds, aliens or dragons or magical humans, we build our worlds based on the societies we know, add a speculative element (or a few), and make stories out of the difference. And this is where things get murky.

Too many people don’t like history or politics in their visions of the future. History and politics are divisive and controversial, while the future is supposed to be for all of humanity. Usually, for such people, humanity refers to able-bodied men from majority social groups, raised in comfort and with access to education. We say man has walked on the moon; we don’t say 12 highly-trained, white, male US-citizen astronauts from NASA have walked on the moon through space missions that cost millions of dollars. I don’t see myself walking on the moon anytime soon. Do you?

Dystopia is another one of those vague speculative words that get thrown around as if they mean the same for everyone. The dystopia trope is simple: Life was innocent and wholesome in the past, and now everything is bad. Does that trope work similarly for those whose lives were never innocent or wholesome?

A word like dystopia sounds hollow when describing the Broken Earth trilogy by NK Jemisin, in which the protagonist comes from a culture for which the worst has always been normal. When the world breaks further, she isn’t stunned by grief, but braced for survival. The Broken Earth trilogy is a dark and ruthless, but it’s propelled by hope.

The most important development in SFF in the recent decades has been the emergence of authors and readers who are not exclusively from the majority social groups. History works differently for the dispossessed, as do visions of the future. The 21st century is not an unimaginable dystopia for an author like Jemisin, whose ancestors survived slavery. Is it a dystopia for me, considering that my ancestors were fully untouchable even a century ago? Should I wish I was living in the time of my parents’ youth, when things were cheaper but there was much more casteism, and they definitely did not get invited to write articles in the Hindustan Times about it? Is the future darker than the past for me?

So what visions of the future do we offer to a world in which not everyone shares the same nostalgia about an idyllic past, and not everyone will have similar access to any potential change? Positivity, empathy and building together are having an upsurge as themes in SFF stories today, and this is not a false positivity like the puerile nostalgia for a wholesome past that could only exist by erasing or silencing those whose lives never fit that narrative. These stories have a structure that’s the exact opposite of dystopia: We are given a world where everything has already gone wrong, so we survive by making it better.

This is also the future I want to see in the real world. I want us to realise that the world wasn’t simpler or sweeter when we were children—it only seemed so to the lucky few of us with the privilege of a sheltered childhood. But then, I also want us to realise we are the adult citizens of a democratic country—the system isn’t dysfunctional; the system is us.

I want us not to turn away from the horror or the people who endure it, but actually take lessons from their resilience, because those are the people who have stared dystopia in the eye, cracked a joke and got on with life. Is there anything left worth hoping for? Ask the queer people who have lived every day expecting hatred and even death, but still loved and had relationships. Ask the Dalits who have been shunned, beaten, murdered, driven out of spaces for centuries, and continued to work, raise children, study, write stories, win Hugo nominations and so on. Ask the disabled people who only manage to participate marginally in systems that are not conducive to them, but do it every day. What is the smallest unit of hope, the faintest spark that gets one out of bed in the morning? Those people will have your answers.

Dystopias are old; some of us have always lived in dystopias. Inclusiveness, empathy and hope are the brickwork of the future.

Mimi Mondal is a speculative fiction writer and editor, and the first Hugo Award nominee from India

Source: Hindustan Times, 1/1/2019

What is 'relative deprivation' in Sociology?

This refers to a theory of social change that attributes drastic events like social and political revolutions to the desire among a group of people within society to acquire the privileges that are enjoyed by other privileged groups. In other words, social change is seen as the result of the feeling of deprivation or other forms of serious discontent experienced by a group of people. Relative deprivation could be caused by economic or other social inequalities among various social groups. It is believed that group members who were earlier dispersed may find common ground in a cause that leads them to ignore their individual interests and unite under a single cause.

Source: The Hindu, 21/12/2018

Whims of a digital boss

The rise of app-based aggregators has been a boon for consumers but not necessarily for the workers

Recently, a video of a Zomato delivery agent caught eating the food he was supposed to deliver went viral. This led to criticism, especially from middle- and upper-class consumers who questioned the accountability and monitoring mechanisms of food delivery apps and websites, which are important features of the platform or the gig economy. However, the working conditions of app-based employees are hardly discussed. In this case, given the pressure to fulfil never-ending targets to avail of certain incentives, the worker might not have found time to rest between deliveries or to have his own meal.

The rise of app-based aggregators has been a boon for consumers to access at their doorstep and with the touch of a phone a range of services including cabs, food, and retail. It also purportedly creates decently paid employment opportunities for millions of literate people. But what is the nature of employment arrangements, contracts, quality of work, security, grievance redress mechanisms and accountability in such cases?

The first “person” that app-based workers — whom the companies ironically label “partners” — must report to is the app itself, which is effectively their digital boss. This “boss” gives instructions, sets targets and provides incentives such as boosts, bonuses, star ratings and badges for the workers. It also provides disincentives in the form of fines and penalties. This “gamification” system, seen in apps such as Uber, puts insurmountable pressure on the app-driven worker, who tends to overwork even at lower pay to earn higher scores. And even if the driver or delivery “partner” aspires to be a self-employed mini-entrepreneur, it is the app companies that decide what commission rates to deduct from their earnings and what monetary incentives to give. Even the fares, prices and surges, including the locations and frequency of duty requests, are not determined by these workers. Thus, we may meaningfully ask whether this is a model of self-employment or self-exploitation.

Further, cases of technical glitches in the app, or incorrect payment or deductions from their earnings are no less than a crisis for these workers, since getting justice from these apps or from tedious helplines and zonal offices that get hundreds of complaints each day is often not feasible. Most importantly, we must ask why, in cases of accidents, to which these delivery persons and drivers are highly prone given the rush they are in, shouldn’t there be accountability and compensation, as well as job security, provided by these companies. Finally, why shouldn’t these workers be allowed to organise and unionise to exercise their right to collective bargaining? It appears that app-based companies have realised that there is a simple strategy to avoid these outcomes — keep workers busy with their next duty and block their app IDs in case of any aberration.

The writer is a Ph.D. Scholar at the University of Delhi, and Founding Partner, Jan Ki Baat

Source: The Hindu, 21/12/2018

Against the mandate for inclusion

The Transgender Persons Bill will do more damage than good if passed without revision

The transgender community has once again been let down, as the Lok Sabha passed the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Bill, 2018 in a hurry amid ongoing protests over the Rafale deal. The Bill, ostensibly aimed at protecting transgender persons’ rights, has been drafted hastily, with no real understanding of gender identity and expression. This was made amply clear in the original draft, with the offensive and unscientific definition of a transgender person as someone who is “neither wholly male nor wholly female”. After several submissions made by the transgender community and the recommendations of a parliamentary standing committee, the definition of transgender has been rectified and made inclusive of diverse gender identities.

However, all nuance of people’s self-identified gender expression is lost in the Bill. It proposes setting up a District Screening Committee comprising five people, including a medical officer and a psychiatrist, to certify a transgender person. This process is in direct violation of the Supreme Court’s directions inNational Legal Services Authority v. Union of India (or NALSA ), 2014 that affirmed the right to self-determination of gender as male, female or transgender without the mandate of any medical certificate or sex-reassignment surgery (SRS). In fact, NALSA had clearly directed that “any insistence for SRS for declaring one’s gender is immoral and illegal”.

A regressive Bill

Drafted by the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment in 2016, the Bill was met with immediate protests from the transgender and intersex community as it has several provisions that take away from the rights accorded throughNALSA while injecting disempowering and regressive clauses. The Bill does not provide for employment opportunities through reservations, disregarding the directions of the Court in NALSA “to treat them as socially and educationally backward classes of citizens and extend all kinds of reservation in cases of admission in educational institutions and for public appointments.”

To make matters worse, the Bill criminalises begging, thereby targeting transgender persons who rely on begging for sustenance. Such provisions disregard the lived realities of transgender persons for whom begging often is the last resort. In fact, provisions such as these could give immunity to the police to exert force on transgender persons and “rehabilitate” them in beggars’ homes or detention centres against their will. Such harsh measures of detaining marginalised individuals under the garb of rehabilitation have also been criticised by the Delhi High Court in Harsh Mander v. Union of India, 2018. The court declared provisions of the Bombay Prevention of Begging Act, 1959 as unconstitutional on grounds that they violate Article 14 (equality before the law) and Article 21 (right to life and personal liberty), and affect the rights of persons who have no other means of sustenance apart from begging.

The Bill fails to extend protection to transgender persons who might be victims of sexual assault or rape, as the Indian Penal Code recognises rape in strict terms of men and women as perpetrator and victim, respectively. While the Bill makes “sexual abuse” punishable, with a disproportionate punishment of imprisonment only up to two years, it does not define the acts that constitute sexual offences. This makes it difficult for transgender persons to report such crimes and access justice. Moreover, the Bill does not grapple with the realisation of civil rights such as marriage, civil partnership, adoption and property rights, thereby continuing to deprive transgender persons of their fundamental rights and the constitutional guarantee provided by the Supreme Court in NALSA .

Transgender persons have faced prejudice, discrimination and disdain for years, and it is dehumanising to deny them their dignity, personhood and, above all, their basic human rights. The Bill in its present form continues to push them into obscurity, making a mockery of their lives and struggles by failing to secure for them their constitutional rights.

Still time to reconsider

The need of the hour is a robust Bill with strong anti-discrimination provisions that will remedy the historical injustices faced by the transgender community, which continues to fight for the most basic rights even today. The community has its hopes pinned on the Rajya Sabha. It is hoped that the Bill will be revised and brought in line with the NALSA judgment to ensure full realisation of transgender persons’ fundamental rights.

Ajita Banerjie is a researcher on gender and sexuality rights based in New Delhi. banerjie.ajita@gmail.com

Source: The Hindu, 21/12/2018

Children must have a voice in the kind of city they want

A child-friendly city would have to protect them from violence, allow them to grow up in an inclusive space, and let their voices be heard.

Go to any park in Gurugram (or any other city in India) and it is likely you will be met with the wonderful sight of children playing. For a child, growing up in a city can be both a delightful experience as well as one fraught with dangers. Remember the scene from the movie Taare Zameen Par in which the boy walks the streets of Mumbai and experiences all its sights and smells? It was a heady scene, but almost unimaginable for our children.

The city street is seen as dangerous today — not a place to explore and discover. This applies equally to women, who are increasingly unable to access the city for pleasure and discovery. In most of our cities today, children are less able to venture out on their own. In Gurugram, because streets have not been designed for walking or cycling, children are not encouraged to go out by themselves at all. Further, safety concerns mean even more protection for children. For many of them, walking to school is not a reality anymore.

A child-friendly city is being talked about nowadays by international actors as well as the United Nations. Such a city would have to include features such as protection from violence, allowing children to grow up in an inclusive space, providing them with good quality open areas as well as letting their voices be heard regarding issues that affect their lives. A child-friendly city must also provide access to quality services and not discriminate against children, irrespective of their gender, social status and other such factors. In India, Bhubaneswar is one city that has included the phrase “child -friendly” in their planning — and made safe paths for walking, good crossings, streetlights, well-maintained parks.

Children must have a voice in the kind of city that they want, as they carry the burden of the future. They have clearly demonstrated their ability to be political actors. In the recent civic action to protect the Aravali Bio Diversity Park, students raised their voices to claim their right to green, open spaces. The campaign against bursting firecrackers has been very successful, in part because the voices of children were most prominent. Children must be seen as contributers to making a city a better place for all.

Equally important are children who have fewer life opportunities because of economic and social issues. Good schooling and access to services are essential to building a more inclusive society and therefore, more inclusive cities. For example, not all children have access to parks, mostly those who live within gated communities. I have seen that sometimes children from economically weaker sections of the society are prevented from playing in public parks, which is an extreme form of discrimination. The right to play is as important as the right to go to school.

We are also living in times when screens occupy children’s time so much that they do not actually enjoy public spaces. Recent research has shown that the free play that children engage in, especially without the supervision of adults, helps teach them many social skills. Children must be included as important voices in the planning of cities so that they are able to influence their present as well as their future.

Source: Hindustan Times, 20/12/2018