In postcolonial India, the narrative of development has often masked a violent undercurrent—one that systematically displaces and disenfranchises Adivasi communities. Despite constitutional protections under the Fifth and Sixth Schedules and the recognition of tribal rights through legislation like the Forest Rights Act (2006), Adivasis remain among the most marginalised populations in the country. Their lands, forests, and ways of life continue to be sacrificed at the altar of extractive capitalism.
At the heart of the issue lies the colonial legacy of viewing Adivasi-inhabited regions as “resource frontiers” rather than sovereign homelands. Post-independence regimes, irrespective of political affiliation, have inherited and perpetuated this model. From large dams and mining projects to infrastructure corridors and wildlife conservation zones, development has too often meant dispossession for tribal communities. According to official estimates, over 50% of those displaced due to development projects since 1950 have been Adivasis—despite forming only about 8.6% of the population.
This displacement is not merely physical but ontological. It ruptures relationships with ancestral land, disrupts customary governance systems, and imposes alien socio-economic structures. Rehabilitation efforts, when attempted, rarely address these deeper dislocations. Monetary compensation cannot substitute for the loss of a forest-based economy, cultural continuity, or spiritual geography.
Resistance to this developmental violence is frequently met with state repression. Adivasi activists and intellectuals are criminalised under sedition or anti-terror laws, branded as Maoists, and subjected to surveillance, incarceration, and even extrajudicial violence. The militarisation of tribal belts, particularly in central India, has rendered entire populations suspect in the eyes of the state, further eroding democratic accountability.
Meanwhile, the state’s approach to tribal welfare remains paternalistic and assimilationist, often undermining the principle of self-determination. Even progressive legislation like PESA (1996) remains poorly implemented, with gram sabhas rarely empowered in practice.
What is needed is a fundamental reimagining of development—one that centres Adivasi epistemologies, prioritises ecological sustainability, and restores collective ownership of land and resources. Justice for tribal communities cannot be a matter of compensation or inclusion alone; it must involve reparative measures, legal autonomy, and epistemic respect.
In India’s rush towards becoming a $5 trillion economy, the question must be asked: development for whom, and at what cost?
