Laura T Murphy, author, Azad Nagar: ‘Narratives alter with circumstances’

Azad Nagar caught my attention when I started learning about contemporary slavery. That’s because they did what everybody hoped would happen — it was a grassroots worker-led movement that took back the means of production. So it provided an exciting power transfer model where workers had agency. After my first trip to Azad Nagar, I learned that the story was not what it was made out to be. Yet, all of this is still true to an extent.

You wrote how NGOs built a convenient narrative around the Azad Nagar struggle, erasing its violence. How did you ensure that you weren’t imposing yet another narrative?

We always impose something of our own — insights, ideas, and ways of thinking — on the stories we tell. There’s no denying it. As for NGOs, they have to raise money — often to help the people they’re working with. When telling a story celebrating liberation, they usually go with the simplest version. Besides, narratives alter with circumstances. When Azad Nagar’s story came out, its residents couldn’t admit responsibility for a murder because they were in the middle of a court case! Every layer of the story was being edited to create the most expedient narrative at that moment. I went to Azad Nagar when people wanted to tell different stories and I sought to reflect that complexity. Along with those who participated in the struggle, I talked to the landowners who held workers in debt bondage, people of different castes, and activists, hoping to build a multivocal chorus that presents the larger picture.

Let’s not forget that this is a story of a murder that, in some ways, remains unsolved. The book investigates a murder, piecing together evidence from people’s statements. In a way, I imposed the detective novels and true crime podcasts I’ve imbibed on the narrative.

When I first travelled to Azad Nagar in 2014, I didn’t intend to write a book. I had studied the revolt for a decade and thought it was important to the global anti-slavery movement, so I wanted to know what had been happening there since. I talked to people, but didn’t record the conversations because I didn’t know what would come out of those. When Columbia Global Reports approached me to submit a book proposal, I thought Azad Nagar’s story was the one I wanted to tell. On the next trip, I did one-on-one interviews with the people involved in the revolt. On the third trip, Amar Saran, a lawyer, gave me his archive: letters, paperwork, documents, etc. That’s when I corroborated what people’s memories told them. It became a rich tapestry of narratives and documentation that put flesh on the story’s skeleton.

Your book packs plenty of context and information, yet is quite slim. How did you arrive at its length and structure?

It was a difficult feat as I’m an academic and usually have more space to write. I published this book with Columbia Global Reports. Its mission is to write for “curious and busy readers” — those interested in issues, but without the time to read an academic tome. I love their books, so was excited to write for them.

But they are serious about keeping books short. Mine was a third longer than it is now — the editor cut it ruthlessly. But I insisted that my reflections on politics and economics stay. I think curious but busy readers would want ideas that transform what they think about an issue along with their knowledge of the issue. So, I insisted on keeping information about, say, the practicalities of violence by oppressed groups. I was disappointed that we could not include my two brilliant Indian research assistants’ interventions. We reflected on ideas together, but the editor cut those out.

Many stories also got cut, like a bartender at a hotel who was also a farm owner. He talked about how he pays his workers, but his father never had. It was illustrative of the changes in that part of Uttar Pradesh. As a writer, you want to include all compelling stories and insights, but you can’t. It’s a struggle to work with an editor who wants to keep the book tight, but the advantage is that more people read it.

I also wanted to ride trucks that took the mined rocks outside Uttar Pradesh and see where they go. My editor said, “No, no, don’t get on trucks. Nobody cares about rocks; they care about people.” I care about rocks, but apparently, others don’t.

I’d love to read about those rocks.

Right? I’ve been researching forced labour in western China; a lot of my work is tracing supply chains. Uyghur people are forced to make socks, PVC pipes, etc. The pipes go to India and department stores in the US and UK sell those socks.

Have you continued working on Azad Nagar after the book’s publication?

After finishing the book, I planned to partner with human rights organisations to do trainings for local lawyers so they could better understand and defend workers’ rights. But due to the pandemic, I couldn’t return to India and those organisations got occupied with other issues. I now hope to go back early next year to restart those efforts and meet the central figures in Azad Nagar.

Trafficking of migrant labourers is a serious issue, especially with Covid-19. People’s need for a job drives several contemporary forms of slavery. When the economy slides or a global crisis hits, people are so desperate for work, they take any job even if they know it is shady or that the employer will exploit them. I’m not optimistic this will end as long as we live under capitalism, where people exploit others’ labour.

If not Azad Nagar, are there other contemporary examples of enslaved people gaining liberty and sustaining it successfully?

I’m not pessimistic about opportunities for liberation. As an activist and educator, a part of me must be optimistic. The Azad Nagar story is exemplary — people undid extraordinary exploitation and insisted on their rights. They still suffer from intense poverty, but they also get government entitlements and have empowered themselves to fight for their rights. Today, there are many welfare programmes for marginalised groups across India. These are important and positive changes. They’re just not enough and I’m impatient. Many communities and individuals are liberating themselves and organisations are doing good work, but we need more.

You have written about malfeasance in global anti-slavery efforts. Have there been actions to remedy these problems?

Development organisations can potentially commit fraud or do harm and we need to call them out in such cases. But a recent positive change is that more organisations are being led and operated by survivors — people who have lived experience of what the organisation is working on. There is an emphasis on hiring survivors and listening to them. Again, it’s not enough, but it’s changing how organisations work. That is likely to reduce the exploitation of survivors and shine a light on it when it happens.

As an outsider to the cultures you’re documenting, how do you ensure you do justice to people and their stories?

I reflect on this often. I’m a white woman and my privilege gives me access and platforms. I think about how I can use these to amplify the voices of survivors and their lived experiences of slavery — with their consent, of course — while receding into the background as far as possible so that their stories are less mediated. Often, researchers take pieces of people’s stories that seem important to them and only put those pieces out. I compiled an anthology of survivors’ narratives from across the world. It sought to correct the edited or redacted stories published earlier and comprehensively portray survivors’ lives and experiences.

Syed Saad Ahmed is a writer and communications professional.

Azad Nagar caught my attention when I started learning about contemporary slavery. That’s because they did what everybody hoped would happen — it was a grassroots worker-led movement that took back the means of production. So it provided an exciting power transfer model where workers had agency. After my first trip to Azad Nagar, I learned that the story was not what it was made out to be. Yet, all of this is still true to an extent.

You wrote how NGOs built a convenient narrative around the Azad Nagar struggle, erasing its violence. How did you ensure that you weren’t imposing yet another narrative?

We always impose something of our own — insights, ideas, and ways of thinking — on the stories we tell. There’s no denying it. As for NGOs, they have to raise money — often to help the people they’re working with. When telling a story celebrating liberation, they usually go with the simplest version. Besides, narratives alter with circumstances. When Azad Nagar’s story came out, its residents couldn’t admit responsibility for a murder because they were in the middle of a court case! Every layer of the story was being edited to create the most expedient narrative at that moment. I went to Azad Nagar when people wanted to tell different stories and I sought to reflect that complexity. Along with those who participated in the struggle, I talked to the landowners who held workers in debt bondage, people of different castes, and activists, hoping to build a multivocal chorus that presents the larger picture.

Let’s not forget that this is a story of a murder that, in some ways, remains unsolved. The book investigates a murder, piecing together evidence from people’s statements. In a way, I imposed the detective novels and true crime podcasts I’ve imbibed on the narrative.

When I first travelled to Azad Nagar in 2014, I didn’t intend to write a book. I had studied the revolt for a decade and thought it was important to the global anti-slavery movement, so I wanted to know what had been happening there since. I talked to people, but didn’t record the conversations because I didn’t know what would come out of those. When Columbia Global Reports approached me to submit a book proposal, I thought Azad Nagar’s story was the one I wanted to tell. On the next trip, I did one-on-one interviews with the people involved in the revolt. On the third trip, Amar Saran, a lawyer, gave me his archive: letters, paperwork, documents, etc. That’s when I corroborated what people’s memories told them. It became a rich tapestry of narratives and documentation that put flesh on the story’s skeleton.

Your book packs plenty of context and information, yet is quite slim. How did you arrive at its length and structure?

It was a difficult feat as I’m an academic and usually have more space to write. I published this book with Columbia Global Reports. Its mission is to write for “curious and busy readers” — those interested in issues, but without the time to read an academic tome. I love their books, so was excited to write for them.

But they are serious about keeping books short. Mine was a third longer than it is now — the editor cut it ruthlessly. But I insisted that my reflections on politics and economics stay. I think curious but busy readers would want ideas that transform what they think about an issue along with their knowledge of the issue. So, I insisted on keeping information about, say, the practicalities of violence by oppressed groups. I was disappointed that we could not include my two brilliant Indian research assistants’ interventions. We reflected on ideas together, but the editor cut those out.

Many stories also got cut, like a bartender at a hotel who was also a farm owner. He talked about how he pays his workers, but his father never had. It was illustrative of the changes in that part of Uttar Pradesh. As a writer, you want to include all compelling stories and insights, but you can’t. It’s a struggle to work with an editor who wants to keep the book tight, but the advantage is that more people read it.

I also wanted to ride trucks that took the mined rocks outside Uttar Pradesh and see where they go. My editor said, “No, no, don’t get on trucks. Nobody cares about rocks; they care about people.” I care about rocks, but apparently, others don’t.

I’d love to read about those rocks.

Right? I’ve been researching forced labour in western China; a lot of my work is tracing supply chains. Uyghur people are forced to make socks, PVC pipes, etc. The pipes go to India and department stores in the US and UK sell those socks.

Have you continued working on Azad Nagar after the book’s publication?

After finishing the book, I planned to partner with human rights organisations to do trainings for local lawyers so they could better understand and defend workers’ rights. But due to the pandemic, I couldn’t return to India and those organisations got occupied with other issues. I now hope to go back early next year to restart those efforts and meet the central figures in Azad Nagar.

Trafficking of migrant labourers is a serious issue, especially with Covid-19. People’s need for a job drives several contemporary forms of slavery. When the economy slides or a global crisis hits, people are so desperate for work, they take any job even if they know it is shady or that the employer will exploit them. I’m not optimistic this will end as long as we live under capitalism, where people exploit others’ labour.

If not Azad Nagar, are there other contemporary examples of enslaved people gaining liberty and sustaining it successfully?

I’m not pessimistic about opportunities for liberation. As an activist and educator, a part of me must be optimistic. The Azad Nagar story is exemplary — people undid extraordinary exploitation and insisted on their rights. They still suffer from intense poverty, but they also get government entitlements and have empowered themselves to fight for their rights. Today, there are many welfare programmes for marginalised groups across India. These are important and positive changes. They’re just not enough and I’m impatient. Many communities and individuals are liberating themselves and organisations are doing good work, but we need more.

You have written about malfeasance in global anti-slavery efforts. Have there been actions to remedy these problems?

Development organisations can potentially commit fraud or do harm and we need to call them out in such cases. But a recent positive change is that more organisations are being led and operated by survivors — people who have lived experience of what the organisation is working on. There is an emphasis on hiring survivors and listening to them. Again, it’s not enough, but it’s changing how organisations work. That is likely to reduce the exploitation of survivors and shine a light on it when it happens.

As an outsider to the cultures you’re documenting, how do you ensure you do justice to people and their stories?

I reflect on this often. I’m a white woman and my privilege gives me access and platforms. I think about how I can use these to amplify the voices of survivors and their lived experiences of slavery — with their consent, of course — while receding into the background as far as possible so that their stories are less mediated. Often, researchers take pieces of people’s stories that seem important to them and only put those pieces out. I compiled an anthology of survivors’ narratives from across the world. It sought to correct the edited or redacted stories published earlier and comprehensively portray survivors’ lives and experiences.

Syed Saad Ahmed is a writer and communications professional.