The menace of bonded labour

Sabir Masih was a 17-year-old young man when I met him in 2005 in Lahore. The day was August 14, when bonded labourers working in brick kilns in Lahore, Kasur and Kot Radha Kishan had convened in the city to stage a rally demanding the implementation of the 1988 landmark decision of the Supreme Court to abolish bonded labour and the subsequently formed Bonded Labour Liberation Act of 1992. I met his uncle some four years later; Sabir had been killed by a brick kiln owner in Lahore, first tied to the chimney of a kiln and then thrown inside. Sabir’s family is yet to receive justice.

Harrowing as that narrative was, Sabir’s tale is not unique. The almost cold and reasoned tone in which his uncle described how Sabir died did scar my memory; this was a young man just four years younger than me, was educated enough to add and subtract – something of a rarity in bonded labourers, most of whom cannot count numbers or money. But the murder of such men, as I was told, was common. And not only were the brick kiln owners and their staff involved, middlemen who arranged for the trade of these labourers as well as the local police station were equally complicit.

Another narrative that had become ensconced in the labourers’ collective memory was the rape of a young woman, hours before she was due to be wedded. She had been taken to the brick kiln owner’s court, where he and later his staff raped the girl. The father sought to lodge a report against the kiln owner, but in turn, the police threw him in a lock-up and kept him there till the rapist bailed him out. In another case, Shoaib Niazi, formely the Naib Nazim of Kasur, was alleged to have instructed his men to punish a worker by selling his kidneys.

This is not how it was supposed to be. The Supreme Court of Pakistan, on September 18, 1988, had outlawed the practice of bondage. The case was in fact a suo motu notice: a telegram had been sent to the Supreme Court, pleading the court to take notice of the transgression against bonded labour in brick kilns. A brick kiln worker named Darshan Masih became the primary plaintiff in what came to be known as the Darshan Masih and others versus the State case.

Drawing on Article 11 of the Constitution, the court delivered a verdict outlawing bonded labour and granting workers their decree of freedom (Parvana-e-Azadi). The court ruled that the system of bondage was inconsistent with fundamental rights guaranteed in the Constitution, and granted labourers the freedom to work wherever and for whoever they wished. The concept of contractors was also abolished, a ceiling set on how much money could be lent to employees, and specific arrangements were to be made to ensure that bonded labourers were not wrongly arrested and implicated in cases.

The interest taken by the Supreme Court was such that the chief justice issued orders that any letter addressed to or received by an individual judge on bonded labour was to be forwarded to the respective provincial chief justice, thereby avoiding judicial and administrative wrangling in acting against bondage. September 18 is still celebrated as Independence Day (Yaum-e-Azadi) by bonded labourers, especially those employed in brick kilns.

Labour has never taken priority in the corridors of power, but it has seemingly also been relegated to the lowest rung of priorities by the Supreme Court. While most bonded labourers are either Christian or belong to low castes, even the Federal Shariat Court while hearing another case on bonded labour in brick kilns, noted that despite the Supreme Court’s judgment, cases of bonded labour are still being reported. The Court was at a loss to understand why the decision is not being implemented.

My Lord the Chief Justice, the Supreme Court headed by you, for which even these bonded labourers fought for, is preoccupied with issues of larger national interest. But sir, in our desire to clean up our politics and bring justice to those who don’t have it, let us not forget these souls who are not considered citizens by those who will wield power over us. Their lives, my lord, are equally if not more, important and pressing. Let us not create dichotomies in the dispensation of law. Let us give Sabir, and millions of others in brick kilns, farms and other industries, the right to live a respectable life. Let us make Sabir, and millions of others, rest in peace. With profound regards, those who desire to be solely your most obedient servants, and not slaves of those perpetuating bondage.

The writer is a Karachi-based journalist. Connect with him on Twitter @ASYusuf