The primary tables for the recently concluded census of 2010 are out in India. This time, most of the important data, including the preliminary report are available online, which is a great boon for armchair analysts, such as this commentator. However, there is much that the layperson does not understand about statistical aggregates like the census and the author, rather shamefacedly, leads on this count. Having downloaded some of the tables, it is interesting to see how the colour-coded map, with all its silences can say so much. The shades go from green to dark orange, in an ascending order of density of population. Predictably, most of the states in the Northeast are green, barring Assam that is a lighter shade of orange. This cold, colour-code has great deal to say for the manner in which our politics and society will be shaped in the next decade.
For the Northeast, there are important considerations. All states, except Nagaland, have had a marginal increase in their decadal growth. The reason why Nagaland’s population has actually decreased in the past ten years deserves more scrutiny by academics and policy-makers. Assam’s population has predictably increased and this will probably become an issue in the next parliamentary elections for the state. It was an issue in the recently concluded assembly election, where the party perceived to be sympathetic to the cause of Bengali-speaking Muslims of the state, the All India United Democratic Front (AIUDF) and its businessman-leader – Badruddin Ajmal – have emerged as the front running opposition. This might be of concern for Assamese nationalist, who have always been wary about immigration and its impact of demography, especially since the Indian political system is one that is based on the idea of a majority vote. In many ways, AIUDF winning so many seats will be construed as the inevitable erosion of Assamese-speaking peoples within the state and give rise to another round of ill-informed, badly researched political posturing.
However, when one looks at the percentage of total population in India, Assam (as with all the other Northeast states, barring Meghalaya) actually shows a decrease in density. This is a phenomenon that probably needs more explanations from social scientists, especially those who do field research. Off hand, it could mean two things: (a) that the rate of population growth is slower than the rest of India; or/and (b) there is a small, but significant number of people emigrating from the region. If either of these two suppositions is true, then one is confronted with some serious questions. For long, the people of Northeast India, especially its native elite and their civic organisations, have argued that all forms of immigration (legal and illegal, if these matters still count) pose a threat to local cultures, mores and ways of life. There is no getting away from this fact and yet, there have been no meaningful mitigation strategies over the past two decades. Instead, we might now be confronted with a reversal in narratives, one where indigenous poor are leaving their villages and small towns and heading to the few big cities that we have within the region, and even beyond.
This is why census figures need to be disaggregated by activists and researchers (working together) from within the region. We are intuitively concerned about the immigration narrative and yet, we have not confronted the fact that successive governments (both the valleys and hills) have wrecked havoc on livelihoods, not only with militarisation of the region, but also with destructive land-related policies, where they have promoted privatisation of community land and harmful changes in land-use. If anything, new census figures should not only lead us to hysteria and panic, but towards more sobering thoughts about what is happening with our land and people. After all, despite all its machinations and loopholes, the census still throws up cold, colour-coded maps that show us how far and in which direction we have travelled in a decade.
Sanjay (Xonzoi) Barbora
xonzoi.barbora@gmail.com
For the Northeast, there are important considerations. All states, except Nagaland, have had a marginal increase in their decadal growth. The reason why Nagaland’s population has actually decreased in the past ten years deserves more scrutiny by academics and policy-makers. Assam’s population has predictably increased and this will probably become an issue in the next parliamentary elections for the state. It was an issue in the recently concluded assembly election, where the party perceived to be sympathetic to the cause of Bengali-speaking Muslims of the state, the All India United Democratic Front (AIUDF) and its businessman-leader – Badruddin Ajmal – have emerged as the front running opposition. This might be of concern for Assamese nationalist, who have always been wary about immigration and its impact of demography, especially since the Indian political system is one that is based on the idea of a majority vote. In many ways, AIUDF winning so many seats will be construed as the inevitable erosion of Assamese-speaking peoples within the state and give rise to another round of ill-informed, badly researched political posturing.
However, when one looks at the percentage of total population in India, Assam (as with all the other Northeast states, barring Meghalaya) actually shows a decrease in density. This is a phenomenon that probably needs more explanations from social scientists, especially those who do field research. Off hand, it could mean two things: (a) that the rate of population growth is slower than the rest of India; or/and (b) there is a small, but significant number of people emigrating from the region. If either of these two suppositions is true, then one is confronted with some serious questions. For long, the people of Northeast India, especially its native elite and their civic organisations, have argued that all forms of immigration (legal and illegal, if these matters still count) pose a threat to local cultures, mores and ways of life. There is no getting away from this fact and yet, there have been no meaningful mitigation strategies over the past two decades. Instead, we might now be confronted with a reversal in narratives, one where indigenous poor are leaving their villages and small towns and heading to the few big cities that we have within the region, and even beyond.
This is why census figures need to be disaggregated by activists and researchers (working together) from within the region. We are intuitively concerned about the immigration narrative and yet, we have not confronted the fact that successive governments (both the valleys and hills) have wrecked havoc on livelihoods, not only with militarisation of the region, but also with destructive land-related policies, where they have promoted privatisation of community land and harmful changes in land-use. If anything, new census figures should not only lead us to hysteria and panic, but towards more sobering thoughts about what is happening with our land and people. After all, despite all its machinations and loopholes, the census still throws up cold, colour-coded maps that show us how far and in which direction we have travelled in a decade.
Sanjay (Xonzoi) Barbora
xonzoi.barbora@gmail.com
