Lunch with BS: Kailash Satyarthi

Kailash Satyarthi, child rights activist and Nobel Prize winner on why he should not be considered anti-industry, and what has and hasn't changed

Some say that Kailash Satyarthi's crusade for child rights across the world has been, in the words of his 2014 Nobel Peace Prize citation, a heroic "struggle against the suppression of children and young people and for the right of all children to education". Others criticise him as merely being a part of the misery industry that obtains Western funding by exaggerating Third World poverty and related problems. As I wait for him to arrive for lunch at Edesia at the Crowne Plaza in Okhla, I'm curious to meet the man behind the medal. He breezes in, wearing a crisp white kurta, and the minute he begins talking, I'm struck by his simple logic.

Child labour is a human rights violation, he says, a developmental deficit that no civilised society should condone. "Today, in India, there are almost as many children working as there are unemployed adults," he says, giving an overview of the social ill he's worked all his life to eradicate. "Poverty, illiteracy and child labour are an unholy, self-perpetuating cycle... but if we free the children, educate them and give their jobs to the jobless adults, maybe we can break this cycle in a single generation." It was with this aim in mind, he says while perusing the ample menu, that he founded Bachpan Bachao Andolan in 1980.

Satyarthi opts for the buffet, while I order a plate of nigiri sushi, a specialty at Edesia I'm told, as the clientele is largely Japanese. He is a frugal eater, pecking at tiny amounts of vegetarian food while I sip my tom yum soup, as I wait for the sushi to arrive. As he returns to the table with his plate, he resumes his story about the first child he rescued - a girl working as a bonded labourer in a brick kiln. "We realised that in our efforts to rescue working children, the first pressing need was to shelter and educate them as well as provide them with some psychological counselling," he says. To this end, over the years, he's set up bal and balika ashrams (homes for boys and girls) and child-friendly villages across the country, notably in Rajasthan. "These villages have children's parliaments or bal panchayats, which empower the children, protect their interests and put an end to evils like underage marriages," he says.

The biggest challenge that he and other child rights activists face, says Satyarthi, is to find constructive alternatives to child labour without denting the industry in question. "As activists, we aren't enemies of economic progress," he says. However, critics have long pointed out that Satyarthi's campaign against child labour in the nineties in the Indian carpet industry practically pulled the rug out from under its feet. "On the contrary," Satyarthi counters, "rug exporters and manufacturers cooperated wonderfully with us. Together with them, as well as weavers and the government, we formed the first multi-stakeholder system of social monitoring, Rugmark, which labelled carpets as being child labour-free. Till date, I cite the Indian carpet industry as an example of how NGOs and corporates can work together successfully."

My sushi arrives, succulent and fresh. The conversation, however, has moved to an unappetising topic: sweatshops. Satyarthi was part of the initiative that liberated hundreds of children working in garment sweatshops in Bangladesh. "The government as well as the garment export industry of Bangladesh felt our efforts were anti-industry," he says. Were they, I ask? He replies emphatically in the negative. I mention the widely publicised reports that some of the 'freed' child labourers were forced into prostitution to ward off certain starvation after their jobs had been taken away. "Merely nine girls out of the hundreds rescued entered prostitution, and the media painted it as if all the child slaves were forced into prostitution and begging after they were liberated," he sniffs.

Just then, some guests interrupt us to shake his hand. Satyarthi obliges and our conversation restarts on a less contentious note. I ask him how he has managed to work, not just in India but in 144 countries across the globe (according to his Wikipedia page) - rescuing over 80,000 child slaves in the process. "I was born in Vidisha, Madhya Pradesh, also the birthplace of two of Buddha's closest friends and disciples. Growing up, I read how they spread Buddhism well beyond India's borders. I wanted to do the same." It's this global focus, I muse, that sets Satyarthi, the Nobel winner, apart from the rest.

From Bangladesh to Ghana, Pakistan to Taiwan and Europe to the US, Satyarthi has raised his voice, and has been heard, on the issue of child labour and slavery. In the late 1990s, Satyarthi was a lead organiser of the Global March Against Child Labour, to raise awareness about millions of working and enslaved children worldwide. This eventually compelled the International Labour Organization to adopt Convention 182 (which defines the minimum age at which children are allowed to work), now a principal guideline for governments around the world. He also founded Rugmark (it's now known as GoodWeave, but he sidesteps discussing reasons for this change of name). Additionally, Satyarthi has also highlighted the plight of child workers in West Africa's cocoa plantations, particularly in Ivory Coast and Ghana.

"I feel that winning the Nobel has made it not just my responsibility, but that of India, to become the moral compass of the world," he says. But a lot needs to be done first, starting with amending India's child labour laws. "The Child Labour (Prohibition and Regulation) Act, 1986, permits children under the age of 14 to work in 'non-hazardous industries'," he says. "This contravenes the Right to Education Act of 2009, which says that all children between six and 14 must be in school." Further, Satyarthi is concerned about the disproportionately low budgetary allocation for child welfare. "According to Census 2011, 41 per cent of India's population is under 18 - but just over four per cent of our Budget is earmarked for children. I hope this Budget allocates a more proportional increase in expenditure on education and child welfare," he says. He cites the examples of China, South Korea, even Turkey and Taiwan that invested in education 40 years ago. "Now see how advanced they are compared to us," he says.

Lunch over, we discuss his winning the Nobel. "I didn't even know I'd been nominated. I was in office, searching for the cheapest fares to Germany for an impending trip, when a journalist friend called. In his excitement, all he could blurt out was 'Nobel Prize'!" he laughs. The official call from the Nobel Committee came half an hour later, by which time, the media had already besieged his office. As he picks off a plate of fruit, I ask if the Nobel has changed him in any way. "I've dedicated my medal to the people of India, and have left the prize money with the Nobel committee to disburse as per my wishes. I didn't have a medal then, I don't have it now. I didn't have any money then, and I have none now… nothing's changed," he says.

Yet, minutes later, when the entire staff of the hotel comes to our table to meet him, he greets them with a practiced ease. I have to ask if he has any political inclinations. "I've no political ideology, children are my only religion," he says. Satyarthi is indeed a man of contradictions, I muse as I watch him leave. His contribution to children's rights is undeniable, but India's seventh Nobel Prize winner has also demonstrated how networking, savvy marketing and international public relations can be the most potent weapons in an activist's arsenal.