A Voice from Bastar: Soni Sori on Adivasi Struggles Amid Conflict and Control

Illustration of Soni Sori

PreludeThis interview with Soni Sori, a prominent Adivasi activist and tireless voice for tribal rights in Chhattisgarh, comes at a time when tensions in Bastar are running high. Clashes between security forces and Maoists have intensified, especially after Union Home Minister Amit Shah’s recent declaration that Naxalism will be eradicated by March 31, 2026. For Adivasi communities rooted in the forests and lands of this mineral-rich region, the situation is growing increasingly dire. They remain caught in a harrowing crossfire—between the violence of Naxalite insurgents and the state’s expanding paramilitary response.

Recent escalations have only worsened their plight, with increased operations, retaliatory attacks, arbitrary arrests, and forced displacements becoming part of daily life.

Shah’s deadline has triggered concerns that military action may accelerate further, raising fears of more bloodshed and upheaval for tribal communities. Through this conversation, Sori sheds light on the deepening toll this conflict takes on Adivasi lives—highlighting not just their struggle for survival, but also their unwavering courage in seeking justice, dignity, and a voice in decisions that shape their future. Her words call attention to the urgent need to break the cycle of violence and address the structural marginalisation that keeps tribal communities in a state of constant vulnerability.

Soni Sori: Conflict in Bastar As tensions mount and militarised responses expand, Sori reflects on what this means for those most affected—Adivasi communities caught in the middle.

Q1: With Union Home Minister Amit Shah’s statement that Naxalism will be eradicated by March 31, 2026, violence in Bastar is expected to escalate as security operations intensify. How will this impact Adivasi communities caught in the crossfire?

A: Amit Shah’s declaration signals a likely surge in security operations, which will only deepen the hardship for Adivasi communities in Bastar. With new paramilitary camps and intensified sweeps, the risks of arbitrary arrests, displacements, and civilian deaths will grow. Tribals are already trapped between state forces and Naxalites; now, their daily lives will become even more fraught.

Entire villages may face repeated raids. Homes could be razed. Farmlands—essential for food and income—may become inaccessible. Gathering forest produce, catching fish, or hunting game will grow more dangerous. Fear will increase, not just of physical harm, but of being branded as either a Naxalite or a police informant. This creates distrust within communities, breaking social bonds. Women and children, already vulnerable, are often caught in crossfire or left struggling in the aftermath. In such desperation, families may be forced to sell their last belongings just to survive. Unless the state begins a sincere dialogue about land rights and the specific needs of tribal communities, this escalation will only multiply the trauma.

Q2: Why are Adivasi communities stuck in the middle of the conflict between armed forces and Naxalites, and how does this dynamic play out in their daily lives?

A: Adivasis in the dense forests of Bastar are in a terrible situation—trapped in a battle they didn’t start and cannot escape. If they are even suspected of helping Naxalites, security forces arrest them, ask them to surrender, or evict them with force. But if they are seen cooperating with the state, Naxalites may retaliate, even with violence.

This leaves no space for safety. Many villagers surrender out of fear, even when they’ve done nothing wrong. Those who try to speak with government officials are often branded traitors by the Maoists. And if they keep quiet, they risk suspicion from the police. It’s a daily balancing act between survival and dignity, with little room for peace.

Q3: How have military operations and the presence of paramilitary forces in Bastar—especially through the establishment of security camps—affected tribal rights, agriculture, and the overall economic wellbeing of these communities?

A: The spread of paramilitary camps across villages like Biriya, Karcholi, Pusnar, Indri, and Gampur in Bijapur has been devastating. These camps block access to rivers, forests, and farms. The communities can no longer gather forest produce or grow crops like corn. They live in constant fear of encountering violence or stepping on explosives—IEDs have already killed innocent villagers, including children.

This fear paralyses daily life. Agriculture collapses. The markets become too dangerous to reach. Families are pushed deeper into poverty. Even pregnant women and unborn children are not spared from the terror—explosions near homes have long-term health effects. People protested against these camps, but in the end, their voices are drowned out by both the state and the insurgents. The camps are expanding, and with them comes more destruction—of the land, of livelihoods, and of the spirit of these communities.

Q4: What role do Adivasi cultural practices and traditional governance systems play in sustaining community resilience amid this ongoing conflict?

A: Our traditions are a source of strength. Even in this environment of fear and loss, Adivasi cultural life—our festivals, our farming rituals, our connection with nature—keeps us going. Village elders still play a role in resolving disputes, guiding the community, and finding ways to survive the pressures of arrests and displacements.

These governance systems are rooted in mutual respect and cooperation. Despite the restrictions, people continue to gather together, work collectively, and pass down stories that hold us together. While the violence around us tries to break these bonds, our culture helps us heal, resist, and remember who we are.

Q5: How has the displacement of Adivasi communities in Bastar due to conflict and development projects impacted their access to ancestral lands and resources?

A: Displacement has taken a heavy toll. When security camps are established, they often take over the best lands—farmlands and forests we’ve depended on for generations. And development projects, especially mining ventures like those near Nandraj Mountain, take our land without proper consent or compensation.

In 2022, tens of thousands of us protested against this. But instead of dialogue, the government declared the land as state property and handed it over to corporations. What we got in return were polluted rivers, dying crops, and sick children. Many have suffered birth defects or lost mothers during childbirth due to poor nutrition and toxic water. The government calls us anti-development, but what we want is electricity, schools, healthcare—and above all, secure rights to our land. When we demand this through the Forest Rights Act or Gram Sabhas, we are labelled as enemies. Our voices are ignored, while our lands are torn apart.

Q6: What challenges do Adivasi under-trials face in Chhattisgarh’s judicial system, and how do these reflect their ongoing struggles?

A: The conditions are deeply unjust. Many under-trials are kept in jail for five to eight years before their cases are even heard properly. Families suffer terribly—selling off land or livestock to pay legal fees or travel hundreds of kilometres to attend hearings. Witnesses often don’t show up. Legal aid is minimal.

I’ve seen under-trials, during transit between jails and court, eating three-day-old rice with just salt and chillies. It’s not just a matter of law—it’s a matter of dignity. These are innocent people whose lives are wasting away. Their children grow up without them, and even when they’re released, they return to a life marked by stigma and poverty. The system makes them feel powerless, and without serious reform, this cycle will continue.

Q7: Does the government’s Samadhan Prahar policy genuinely address Adivasi needs, or is it primarily a military-driven agenda?

A: Samadhan Prahar is presented as a mix of development and security, but in reality, it is driven by military priorities. It focuses on setting up police camps, conducting operations, and pushing people to surrender—often by force. The human cost is ignored.

Under this policy, Adivasis are detained without cause, encounter alleged fake encounters, and are subjected to the trauma of bombings. Many of those arrested under this policy languish in jails for years. And the so-called development often means building roads or infrastructure that primarily benefits mining companies—not us.

If the government truly wanted to help, they would talk to us, support us through education and land rights, and protect our traditions. But instead, they suppress our voices and push us into the shadows.

Q8: To what extent does the government of Chhattisgarh include Adivasi voices and leadership in policymaking and decision-making processes?

A: Unfortunately, genuine Adivasi voices are rarely heard. The government often appoints or supports figures who are willing to go along with their plans, rather than those who speak out for land rights or against environmental destruction.

Those of us who challenge the system—who talk about forest conservation, sustainable development, or the misuse of police power—are sidelined or labelled anti-national. Real dialogue, with people who understand the ground realities, could resolve much of this conflict. There are 15–16 ethnic groups in Bastar. We have leaders, social workers, and even surrendered cadres who could contribute to peace. But right now, policies seem to be written to maintain control, not create justice.

Q9: How has the social fabric of Adivasi villages been altered by the prolonged Maoist-government conflict?

A: Our communities have suffered deeply. The warmth of village life—where people shared harvests, celebrated festivals, and supported each other—is being torn apart. Suspicion has replaced trust. Some are forced to become informants. Others flee to escape the crossfire.

Displacement breaks families. Children lose their language and culture when they grow up in relief camps or city slums. Elders lose respect. Youth are either drawn into militancy or harassed by the state. Women take on more and more burdens, trying to hold families together while everything around them changes.

And yet, we go on. We grieve for the dead. We fight for the living. But without land, justice, or security, we risk losing the very soul of our communities.

Q10: Soni Sori, do you want to enter politics again?

A: I haven’t ruled it out completely. But for now, my heart lies in activism—standing with my people and speaking out against the injustices they face in Bastar. Politics can be a tool for change, yes, and if the people feel that contesting elections is the best way for me to amplify our collective voice, I will consider it. But at this moment, my commitment remains firmly rooted in the grassroots struggle for Adivasi rights and justice.