Returning to Our Bodies | One Future Post

Trigger Warnings– body shame, reference to self-harm.

 

Rishita, Curator, One Future Post, Volume 1

Dearest,

I carry you and our experiences. From the moment you were conceived, I have never left you alone. I am more than a vessel made of bones, blood, and flesh. I, your body, am an ancient intelligence you inhabit. I run, crawl, claw, I play dead, and sometimes I shiver—anything that will help us survive.This is about thriving, not just surviving. Today, I want to talk about forming paths of healing for us through practices that allow you to listen to me mindfully. Practices like yoga or hula-hooping, that help you create a communication bridge between me and your mind. 

Think back to when you first picked up a hula hoop. The voices in your head whispered that your soul’s home was ‘dirty’ or ‘wrong.’ Early on, we carried the burden of shame tied to being objectified. The idea that your body’s movements determined your safety took hold in your mind. In 10th grade, you began fasting to meet your mother’s inherited ideal of beauty, passed down like an heirloom. You longed to be skinny like your sister, hiding your changing body under baggy shirts. It felt like being a stuffed animal suffocated by shame.

After trying for the hundredth time, when the hoop finally stayed on the grooving waist for more than a minute, the exultation was surreal. Your mind went silent, as the hoop became my extension, as it spun, glided, and swerved with me. It helped us live through some of the most anxious nights. The freedom that we found — I was pretty and graceful, just the way I am. It was liberating for me to break from the labels of awkward, stiff, and clumsy. The journey with somatic practices can look different for different bodies, I am proud you found your joy and reclamation in hooping.

Our journey together has been challenging at times. When you started exploring the fluidity of your gender and sexuality, it felt isolating to be in a body that was used as evidence to confine you to the binary of man-woman. I am grateful that, over time, we found safe community spaces to explore the idea of gender beyond the body. 

In the midst of the pandemic, we joined a queer-themed dance party curated by OFC via Zoom. It was a safe space to be myself without judgement, finding joy and freedom. Later, in Dharamkot, Himachal, we experienced an ecstatic dance ceremony that transcended language, culture, and boundaries. It was a sacred communion with strangers from around the world, where we expressed ourselves fully and formed a powerful connection.

Learning to love me, your body, need not be a lonely process. I am thinking of how you look into the mirror with so much love, smiling, your head echoing with all the nice things told to you about your body by your current or former partner. Also, sex can be an empowering somatic practice for queer individuals and women, isn’t it? It helps you reclaim agency, challenge objectification, and assert desires. Of course, it requires consent, communication, and safe spaces.

Meditate on how walking barefoot on the soil and doing seva in the community of Sadhana Forest relieved me of my chronic pain during the time you spent there. And now I am excited for the classes at the Queer Tango group that are about to begin. Finding safe community spaces has been integral to this healing journey.

While there is joy in my heart, my back is heavy with grief on some nights. I forgive you for all the times you ate your feelings for years or the nights you reached out for a blade—  anything less painful than the emotional pain you were trying to escape. We live based on the awareness and information we have at a particular moment. Today, I am grateful as we walk the paths of healing. Will you join me in another post-dinner walk tonight?

Yours faithfully,

Body

 

P.S. – a poem.

Celebration

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do the waves celebrate

the return of the starfish

from the shore?

Does the sand grieve 

the last throb of the dying jellyfish?

The art of celebration

is mastered through attention.

 

Hold that pebble against the skylight,

move your fingers

around its smoothed edges, smell the future

of the sand in its core,

before you put it in

your pocket.

Before you pocket celebration, 

you have to be intimate

with the shore of grief —

 

walk barefoot feeling every grain,

crunch of shells

every crashing, gulls crying

salt and fish in the air.

When hurt washes over you

Do not metal your heart,

it will not save you

from being ravaged to rust. 

Let your heart be salt, instead

crumble and dissolve,

 

Salt water heals wounds, 

my grandmother said, 

as she dipped a strip

of her old cotton saree

into the solution

and dabbed my bleeding knee 

after I grazed it 

falling from the bicycle.

Does the skin grieve a wound? 

Does the skin celebrate a scab?

 

I threw out my shoes; 

I walk plenty.

My pockets now,

rattle with the pebbles I love.

 

Rishita is an educator, poet, and tree-worshipper. She writes to document, explore, and survive. She lives to keep expanding her list of little, mundane joys like — the Tyndall effect through canopies; fresh, crisp, sun-dried laundry falling on the bed; watching people hold hands on the metro.

Mapping and negotiating power

Uncuff India Episode 10: Dimensions of conflict and peace: visioning a utopian world

Uncuff India Episode 9: Civic space and dissent: A pathway to social justice

Breaking Down the Roots of Anti-Fat Bias

This blog is the last of our series of blogs on the experience of fatness in urban India, and is written by Vallari Shivkumar.

Content warning: mentions of bullying, anti fat discrimination, sexual abuse

When people discriminate against fat people, they often chalk it up to preference, concern, or advice. Fat people experience hostile environments, judgment, and ostracization on a daily basis because of their bodies. This discrimination was met by the rebellion in the 1960s. As with any political movement, fat liberation started out as a way to fight oppression. As fat people organized and mobilized against fatphobia, the early fat liberation movement gained traction. Fat people were at the center of theory, actions, and radicalism. The impact and ripples of these movements are still felt today, as the fat liberation movement evolves and continues to be a part of the zeitgeist. 

 

The fat acceptance movement has facilitated the creation of a community that carries forward that fight for equality. Although the message in the movement evolves and takes different forms like body positivity, anti-diet culture, intuitive eating, etc, it has led to a platform that fat people can use and take up space in and has established a community of people that are working towards eradicating anti-fat discrimination. Fat activism has led to a pushback towards people who discriminate against fat folks. Whilst this movement has led to real change, there is still a long way to go.  Is this all there is to anti-fat bias?  Or does it go much deeper than that?

 

Fatphobia is a Systemic Issue

 

According to the Collins Dictionary, fatphobia is an “irrational fear of, aversion to, or discrimination against obesity or people with obesity.” Fatphobia has been reigning terror over fat bodies for centuries. Fatphobia, rooted in racism, classism, misogyny and other forms of oppression, spiraled into the oppression fat folks face today. Systemic fatphobia is a societal issue. Saying fat people are at a disadvantage in society is like calling a cut a scrape because the extent of this disadvantage has strong roots in structural and interpersonal violence. 

 

There is a level of violence when a fat person is denied equal opportunities, denied access to be able to meet basic needs like clothes, to not just live but thrive as a complete person. What does that mean for me when I am not given proper care at the doctor’s office? What does it  mean when support systems like the HR at my workplace or a police officer have an internal bias against fat people? What does it mean when I get on an airplane and the airline doesn’t have seats that fit me or resources like an extendable seat belt in place for fat people? 

In the fat community, fatphobia is the most commonly used term, but I think we, as a community, need to start narrowing down exactly what fatphobia means. Phobia means fear, but people aren’t afraid, they’re biased and hateful. Perhaps systemic anti-fat bias is a better choice of words. Weight-based oppression on a large scale affects marginalized groups more deeply. It’s common for the experiences of fat folks’ to get downplayed because they think ‘fat’ is an ‘excess of flesh’, which can be easily changed with hard work and determination and being fat is still viewed as a choice or moral failure. There is so much emphasis on obesity care, but how about making sure therapists understand weight discrimination and how to accommodate our bodies? Often, particularly, in systems of structural care, there is both a glaring lack of experience and infrastructure to deal with fat bodies in a safe, equitable and dignified manner.

While society at large still uplifts and prioritizes thinness, fat bodies are continuously exiled and ridiculed. For fat individuals and people with nonconforming bodies, society adversely attacks and belittles them as ‘responsible’ for their sizes and takes the onus upon itself to recast them into ‘acceptable bodies’. This is done through the flooding of markets with products and services to ‘address’ fatness. ‘Thin’ sized bodies are given more value and desirability by society because those bodies are considered “normal.” This value system is a hierarchy of size that focuses on personal choice but doesn’t take into account geography, culture, poverty, or genetics. Through such a value system, people are blamed or held responsible for their body types.

 

Institutional and Interpersonal Violence

 

A fat body is invaded by comments, measured with hatred, pathologized by fear, and diagnosed with ignorance. It is weighed down not by its weight, but by the force of hatred, contempt, and pity. This violence also can be of fat people towards themselves and their own bodies in self-talk among other things. Fighting systemic fatphobia is all about equal access, equal respect, and fair treatment. Anti-fat bias permeates multiple structures and interpersonal relationships which in turn make existing and thriving in a fat body challenging. 

 

Every institution and agent of socialization in our culture — schools, health-care organizations, media, marketing— promotes the propaganda of weight control, so that it is nearly impossible for individuals not to believe that “fat is bad.” Fat people have to face multiple levels of interpersonal violence as they navigate life and spaces. 

People who are fat get discriminated against in a multitude of areas, including healthcare, work, education, and transportation. Discrimination against fat people is the fourth most common type of discrimination and it has increased drastically over the past twenty years. This marginalization has consequences over the entire lifespan of fat people. It starts as early as school. Bullying is, unfortunately, a lived reality of school. Fatness is one of the many reasons that kids are bullied and socially excluded in school. Students do so by making nasty comments, and the fat body once again becomes the site of humour. Teachers sometimes also contribute to this. For example, teachers can be insensitive towards fat kids and make them feel excluded from certain activities. Often, teachers choose conventionally ‘attractive-looking’ students as representatives. Teachers perceive fat students as less academically, physically and socially able. Anti-fat bias can also affect friendships. In a clique, people who are fat get reduced to the ‘fat friend’ like a token. A study by the University of Southern California found that children who are overweight have more unreciprocated friendships than others. It was further found that they are excluded from friendships. All of these take a mental, social and physical toll on people who are fat. The constant ostracization of individuals who are fat is likely to lead to the risk of loneliness, depression, poor eating habits, and chronically feeling isolated, lonely or socially disconnected experiences. 

In the workplace, fat people are harassed and bullied. They face a significant “wage penalty” for employment, even when controlling for socioeconomic status and health. They are less likely to be hired and promoted, and more likely to be fired. Many people think overweight employees lack self-discipline, are lazy, aren’t competent, aren’t conscientious, are sloppy, disagreeable, and are emotionally unstable. Even when fat candidates/employees are better qualified than their colleagues, reservations like these result in unfair hiring practices, low wages, and job termination. Places like schools and offices structurally fail fat folks. Usually, there is no consideration for inclusive seating, uniform sizes and policies in place that help reduce this alienation and discrimination. India also completely lacks an anti-discriminatory legislative framework to deal with weight bias in the workplace. The Delhi High court rejected a flight attendant’s appeal of Air India’s decision to ground and further terminate them for being overweight in June 2008. The decision was “taken strictly as per the terms of employment,” according to the state-owned airline. The court justified its decision by stating, “In the highly competitive industry of civil aviation, the company has to focus on the personality of its employees. By the very nature of their jobs, their overall physical personality is one of the primary considerations.” However, in a more recent turn of events, the Delhi High Court ordered the reinstatement of three employees grounded by Air India, citing that excess weight does not necessarily impede optimal performance

In mainstream media, fat bodies get limited representation, reaffirming thin supremacist preferences for bodies that follow hegemonic body size and beauty standards. This leads to dominant conceptualizations controlling discourses about fatness: fat bodies are lazy, disgusting, and lacking control. As Marilyn Wann notes, “[e]very person who lives in a fat-hating culture inevitably absorbs anti-fat beliefs, assumptions, and stereotypes, and also inevitably comes to occupy a position in relation to power arrangements that are based on weight.” This creates a hierarchy of bodies. People who experience weight discrimination report more psychological distress, lower well-being, and greater loneliness as a result of weightism.

Based on one’s size, specific performance is expected. In our society, this same performance creates, stabilizes, and legitimizes ‘fat’ as a concept. In courtrooms, the same association can be made with fat defendants by jurors, who expect a particular performance. Fat makes people feel guilty, lack self-control, and lack respect. Then studies on social reaction and response to size become applicable to the courtroom. Researchers found that male jurors found female presenting defendants guilty more often if they were fat than slim in a simulated check fraud case. In cases where a defendant’s body expresses a size and situation not allowed to be explained by the voice, bias based on fat may also harm them. Fat defendants’ and fat victims’ bodies are seen as beyond their control, which reflects an entrenchment within the justice system too.

Court actors  who conceptualize victims of abuse as thin might not take fat women seriously when they tell stories of abuse. In State v. Ruhlman, the defendant said he wouldn’t assault the victim/survivor because she was “fat and ugly.” It’s especially visible in domestic violence. Abusers use size as a tool to insult and attack a romantic partner’s sexual attractiveness. Several police officers refuse to take reports of sexual assaults by fat women, saying they’re too unattractive to have been raped because of their size.  These experiences of cultural, structural, and interpersonal violence only get worse for people whose fatness intersects with other marginalized identities such as age, disability, race, caste, among others. Even within communities, not falling within the expectations of the community, may lead to a disconnect and further alienation.

As a fat person, living with a fat body is hard considering that the world feels like it isn’t made for someone like us and is actively trying to work against us. There are constant battles, big and small that need to be fought so that we as fat people can take up the space we deserve. It is imperative to look out for and act on the intersectional needs of fat people so that every person has more than the basic necessities to thrive and be their best self. Fat people need to be heard and taken into account in a way that tackles systemic anti-fat bias by making laws, policies, and recommendations, and having fat people in the room helps make those so that people whose needs are being met are represented and are part of the process. 

 

Thank you for reading this blog, which is the final blog in our series of blogs on the experience of fatness in urban India. This blog series is a part of our upcoming research study on Fatness in Urban India, focusing on building counter-power narratives on the experience of fatness in Mumbai; as well as developing an evidence base for documentation of the discrimination and oppression faced by fat people in urban India, with a focus on 

 

(1) built environments

(2) health and medical infrastructure

(3) careers – educational institutions and workplaces

(4) intimacies and interpersonal relationships

 

Further, we hope to document the ways in which fat people embody different physical-emotional conditions. Finally, we hope to use this research study to co-create recommendations for changing norms, policies and infrastructure to meet the needs of fat people in urban India. 

 

To become a part of this study, please consider participating in our data collection process by giving us 30-45 minutes of your time in an interview. To learn more about the process, check if you are eligible and to sign up, please visit: bit.ly/OFC_Fatness_Study

 

Mapping and negotiating power

Uncuff India Episode 10: Dimensions of conflict and peace: visioning a utopian world

Uncuff India Episode 9: Civic space and dissent: A pathway to social justice

Gig Workers and Social Security

The urgent need for access to secure and fair workplaces for all is a key focus area as we imagine the future of work in the post-pandemic world. The precarity built into systems that depend on the seemingly dispensable, on-demand labour of gig workers is an issue of particular importance as we assess the ways in which exploitation is a direct consequence of a lack of social security in the workplace. 

Even as the Social Security Code, 2020 extends social security schemes to unorganized workers, including gig workers, it is crucial to understand the vulnerabilities inherent in gig work which were exacerbated by the pandemic, and what it might take to embed accessible social security in gig work. 

 

Meanings and Definitions of gig workers and social security

 

India’s Social Security Code, 2020 defines a gig worker as “a person who performs work or participates in a work arrangement and earns from such activities outside of a traditional employer-employee relationship”. Essentially, a gig worker performs on-demand, task-based labour upon being connected to a consumer through an online platform business. This can look like a food delivery aggregator connecting orders to delivery ‘partners’, or a ride-hailing app connecting drivers to passengers. Also referred to as ‘platform work’, the Code recognises such platform-enabled gig work as “work arrangement outside of a traditional employer-employee relationship in which organisations or individuals use an online platform to access other organisations or individuals to solve specific problems or to provide specific services or any such other activities […], in exchange for payment”. These definitions are central to the discussion of gig work in the Indian context because they are the first of their kind indirectly addressing and including gig workers within the ambit of labour codes and the associated benefits in terms of seeking safe and fair work environments.

 

As we begin the conversation on why social security is crucial for gig workers, particularly in the context of the pandemic in India, it is key to remember that social security in the gig workspace essentially translates to “the measures of protection afforded to employees, unorganised workers, gig workers and platform workers to ensure access to health care and to provide income security, particularly in cases of old age, unemployment, sickness, invalidity, work injury, maternity or loss of a breadwinner”, per the Code of Social Security, 2020. In our discussion of gig work and the many vulnerabilities to which it exposes workers, it is useful to define how social security can provide comprehensive safeguards against insecurity in the workplace, leading to more equal and inclusive workspaces, where economic survival does not come at the cost of the health, well-being and dignity of workers.

 

What gig work looks like

 

Many sources, like Boston Consulting Group’s 2021 report titled ‘Unlocking the Potential of the Gig Economy in India’, highlight the gig economy’s contribution to the creation of jobs for the unemployed in India, estimating that there will be nearly 90 million gig working jobs created in the next 8 to 10 years. Gig-work, this report asserts, is not a new concept in the country. Instead, the large informal sector in India, comprising nearly 90% of the workforce, has always comprised of gig workers in the form of agricultural labour, construction workers and household help.

 

Participation in gig work, proponents claim, allows for convenient, flexible work. Further, it builds an entrepreneurial spirit in workers, who are directly responsible for their earnings, which depend on their ability to maintain positive ratings for the platform’s algorithm. It also allows for organisations to work in efficient and cost-effective ways. Gig work saves platforms time since it includes little formal contracting and training. Further, since the pool from which gig workers can be drawn is immense, they are easy to replace if performance is not found to be up to par. It also requires very little economic investment from employers, since infrastructural costs are largely borne by workers towards investing in a more economically stable future, as part of what Kuehn and Corrigan refer to as ‘hope labour’.  

 

In reality, however, a key defining characteristic of gig work is a lack of access to social security and control over conditions of work afforded to workers who are treated as independent contractors or ‘partners’ of an  ‘asset-light’ platform

 

Although their work has some features of formal employment (access to a grievance redressal for individual concerns, for instance), gig workers straddle the line between formal and informal work. For example, workers are forced to leverage informal unions like the All India Gig Workers Union (AIGWU) and the Indian Federation of App-based Transport workers (IFAT) to effectively rally against collective concerns with their respective platforms in the absence of ‘formal’ channels of redressal for collective grievances, since gig work can often be isolating and does not present opportunities to form collectives within organizations. Another example of the blurring of the boundaries of formal and informal work is that of pay. Although gig workers may be paid in predictable cycles, the amounts they are paid are unpredictable due to a variety of reasons – varying demand, frequently changing payments per task and lack of clarity on how payments are decided. Thus, a degree of informality gets built into the nature of gig work done for otherwise organized workplaces. This gap can be observed in the ways in which social security and benefits like minimum wage protection, maternity and paternity benefits, leave plans, gratuity plans, social security schemes, etc. are unevenly applied to gig and permanent workers. 

 

A different aspect of gig work that leads to loss of control for the worker is the opacity present in the working of the algorithms of various platforms, as well as algorithmic control. First, with very little understanding of and control over how task rates are determined, workers are often forced to undertake tasks at rates which they had no hand in determining, and which may not necessarily reflect the cost they incur in order to complete the task. Second, most platforms depend on a reputation or ranking-based system of assigning work. While at first glance, this may seem to promote a merit-based system of success, in practice, that may not be the case. What it may mean is that a worker’s ability to find work depends on their ability to secure arbitrarily assigned positive ratings, often in the face of difficult customers or uncomfortable conditions. Third, the constant surveillance of workers’ activities through management systems and GPS tracking has negative psychosocial effects. 

 

As a result, while gig work does generate employment and income opportunities for many, the quality of work in these opportunities per the ILO’s standards of decent work is questionable, considering the lack of social security, such as income security and healthcare cover, offered by systems that operate the gig economy.  The employment generated by gig work should also be assessed for its ability to provide safe, inclusive and dignified workplace conditions, even under the most difficult socio-economic circumstances. 

 

Doing gig work in the pandemic without social security

 

During the COVID 19 pandemic, workers and working conditions globally were impacted in significant ways. As multiple lockdowns were imposed and more and more people began to socially distance and isolate at home, the demand for ‘gig worker jobs’, such as home delivery, rose exponentially. In some economies, people who had lost their jobs in the organized sector also began to turn to gig work as a secondary or primary source of income. However, this rise in demand for gig workers came with its own challenges. 

 

Many platform-based businesses chose to capitalize on the demand for delivery services during the pandemic by promoting delivery workers as ‘COVID warriors’ or ‘heroes’. These ‘heroes’ were forced to work even during the height of the first and second waves of the pandemic. 

 

Their work often involved making deliveries to containment zones and coming in direct contact with a number of people, risking their physical safety. In most cases, the onus of vaccination, temperature checks, masking, social distancing and ensuring no contact was on the gig worker and not on the customer, which was indicative of the control the customer had not only on the gig worker’s income but also on their safety. 

This, when there was very little clarity on the issue of the essential worker status of delivery personnel, leading to many having to face police violence in the absence of relevant passes or government mandates. There were also a host of other concerns – many regions saw a decline in delivery requests, meaning workers received little to no payouts during this period. In some cases, they were also having to independently buy protective equipment and fund petrol costs. Many gig workers who had migrated back home early in the pandemic also lost jobs and any financial security. Ultimately, these social, physical and financial risks that gig workers were forced to take in order to ensure economic survival led to negative effects on their quality of life and their ability to perform labour. 

 

Bajwa, et al. (2018) classify these negative conditions into three categories of vulnerabilities associated with gig work – occupational vulnerability, precarity and platform-specific vulnerabilities. These vulnerabilities offer a particularly useful framework to navigate the conditions of gig work during the pandemic. The first, occupational vulnerability, is associated with risks to the health and wellbeing of workers in their line of work, such as the risks posed when coming in contact with potentially infected individuals during a task. The second, precarity, refers to the dangers posed to gig workers by unstable working conditions – incurring their own infrastructural costs, no job or income security, pay discrimination and low wages for women or other marginalized groups, misclassification as contractors rather than employees and associated loss of benefits etc. Lastly, platform-specific vulnerabilities refer to opacity in the platform’s algorithmic logic, worker surveillance, etc. 

 

Even as we discuss the negative impacts of gig work during the pandemic on the health, well-being and security of workers, it is important to recognize the role of intersectional identities in the shaping of the experiences of different people. Women, in particular, were hit by the pandemic in very complex ways – many left the workforce to perform care work full-time, while others who were primary earners found it difficult to manage working long hours (to earn uneven wages compared to men) in their seemingly ‘flexible’ gig jobs alongside care work responsibilities. Another significant issue for women gig workers were the algorithms of their platforms, which had been designed with varying degrees of bias against women and their work. Algorithms and systems had, over time, learnt various means to restrict women’s ability to earn as gig workers – assigning domestic work tasks specifically to women, gamifying work in a way that women’s shorter or scattered hours (in line with their care-work schedules) earned them less money, etc. Therefore, women gig workers’ ability to work was impacted not only by the pandemic but also by the patriarchy and associated power relations. 

 

Overall, the pandemic served to exacerbate and throw into sharp relief the various precarities that shape gig work in the current socio-economic context of the world. Now, more than ever, the pressing need for rights and justice in the form of social security for gig workers is apparent. Evidence such as Fair Work India’s dismal ratings of work conditions for gig workers in several big platform-business players in the country identifies the various issues with fairness in pay, representation, conditions, contracts and management which must be addressed in order to solve for the multi-faceted exploitation of and lack of social security for gig workers. 

 

As we begin the conversation on what social security can look like for gig workers and why it is important, it is key to remember that social security in the gig workspace essentially translates, among other safeguards, to “the measures of protection afforded to employees, unorganised workers, gig workers and platform workers to ensure access to health care and to provide income security”, per the Code of Social Security, 2020. 

 

How does social security solve the issue of precarity? 

 

The Social Security Code, 2020, referenced earlier in this text, is a crucial piece of legislation to discuss when assessing viable solutions for embedding social security in gig work, particularly in the Indian context. Also known as the Code of Social Security (CSS), it is “an act to amend and consolidate the laws relating to social security with the goal to extend social security to all employees and workers either in the organised or unorganised or any other sectors and for matters connected therewith or incidental thereto.”

 

To summarize, the Code extends social security benefits, including “access to health care and to provide income security, particularly in cases of old age, unemployment, sickness, invalidity, work injury, maternity or loss of a breadwinner”, to all employees, gig/platform workers and unorganized workers, per relevant welfare schemes. These schemes would be funded by the central and state governments (as relevant), beneficiary contributions, and contributions by aggregators at a rate of 1 to 2 per cent of turnover, and not exceeding 5 per cent of the total amount paid to gig workers. It also states that the central government would institute a Social Security Fund for gig workers. The Code also provides for the making of a National Social Security Board with a tenure of three years, which would oversee the recommendation, monitoring and administration of welfare schemes. This board would include, among others, five representatives of gig workers and five of aggregators. 

 

The Code of Social Security (2020), although it is an important piece of legislation in terms of ensuring social security to gig workers, is not a comprehensive solution for the issue of social security.  The Code is part of four key labour codes in India – the Industrial Relations Code (2020), the Occupational Health, Safety and Working Conditions Code (2020), and the Code on Wages (2019). The Code of Social Security is crucial to the discussion on precarity and gig work since it is the only labour code in the country which recognizes gig work, platform work and workers. This means that as yet, gig workers are not explicitly mentioned as being part of the national legislation on unionization, collective bargaining, occupational safety and minimum wage protection. This is troubling, since industrial relations, occupational health and safety and minimum wage are all central issues for gig workers in the post-pandemic world. Because these issues form the larger context of precarity in the gig working sector, no conversation or legislative action on one can be considered complete without the others. 

 

As we critically analyze the labour codes as policy tools to aid social security and justice in the workplace, it is important to note that they currently stand deferred, at least since April 2021. This deferment has been attributed to a variety of factors, such as states not having finalized the rules applicable under the codes, as well as delays due to COVID. Until the Code of Social Security remains deferred, no legislative action can be taken towards the goal of providing social security and control to gig workers and their precarious workplaces. 

 

Most importantly, it is crucial to remember that the mere enactment of legislation will likely not ensure safe and just working conditions for gig workers. Apart from the implementation of the Code of Social Security in comprehensive ways and the dispensing of welfare schemes in a timely and effective manner, sustained advocacy and organizing against exploitative working conditions and continued conversations on the issue of workers’ rights, algorithmic justice and holding platforms accountable for working conditions are important steps towards reimagining the future of work as being more just, inclusive and safe.

 

By Karishma Shafi, Senior Program Officer, Knowledge at One Future Collective

Mapping and negotiating power

Uncuff India Episode 10: Dimensions of conflict and peace: visioning a utopian world

Uncuff India Episode 9: Civic space and dissent: A pathway to social justice