“Future Uncertain!” — Dispossession by Mining and Young Men - Mining Company Engagements in Eastern India

Introduction

I was waiting inside the cabin of the Human Resources Manager of Utkal Alumina International Limited (hereafter, Utkal), a bauxite mining company in Kashipur, Rayagada district, South Odisha, to interview him. A group of young men from Dwimundi and Nuapada villages adjoining the bauxite refinery plant site came to meet him. They greeted him and handed him an application with their names to earn the monthly allowances that Utkal had already given several young men in the refinery area. He refused their request saying that eligible young men were already getting the allowances. Previously, these men had stopped traffic on the road behind the plant, demanding jobs and allowances. As the manager continued to shake his head, the boys cussed him, claiming that the allowances were their right, because Utkal was set up on their lands. Other boys in the group calmed them and requested the manager consider their case. The manager went out of the cabin with their application in hand. When I spoke to them in the manager’s absence, they cussed him profusely for making them run to the company daily and accused the company of creating a scene every time they sought work or allowances from the company. They seemed angry that boys from far-off villages had jobs, but they did not get anything even as the company, in their words, “lay in their backyard.” ¹ At the same time, they were concerned about their futures.

Rama, one of the boys, articulated the importance of the present moment in these engagements by stating that “if the company is making us run so much for these petty and temporary allowances and employment— even as land acquisition is not complete, you can imagine what it would give us once the mining company is ready to operate.” ² In the meantime, the manager returned and made the boys promise that they would not obstruct vehicle movement in the future. They agreed. On that piece of paper, he scribbled Bridge 4 Roof, the name of the site from where they could draw allowance for non-work from the contractor. After the boys left, the manager said, “Did you see, madam, they do not want to work. They only want easy money.” “Why did you succumb to such pressure?” I asked. He said “If the company wants to work here, they would need to be flexible.” ³

This article discusses such mundane engagements between young men and a mining company to show how mining companies often co-opt villagers through offers of low-paying and insecure employment in contexts where mining projects disrupt communities’ existing livelihoods and futures appear uncertain to those dispossessed of both. This article seeks to understand such engagements between young villagers and a mining company in the eastern state of Odisha in India in 2010 as the collective struggle against the mining project declined. The collective struggle against Utkal started in the mid-1990s by the villagers in Kashipur. Kashipur was populated mostly by Adivasis and Dalits (Scheduled Tribes and Scheduled Castes) and is designated a Fifth Schedule Area under the Constitution of India to protect the habitats and lifestyles of Scheduled Tribes.

The movement attained a height that compelled the partners of the mining consortium to withdraw from the mining project, and the project was put on ice by 2004 (see Dash, 2017). Yet, the project was not suspended and became a wholly owned subsidiary of Hindalco (Hindustan Aluminium Corporation Limited) group in 2007. Throughout this period, the protracted movement went through its ebbs and tides as state violence was mobilized against the collective movement. The movement eventually declined in 2010. Notably, no single instance of collective opposition was observed in the area after 2010 to make collective demands on the company or administration over livelihoods or compensation (Dash, 2023). Curiously, the collapse of the movement in 2010 coincided with a large number of young men, who were until then at the forefront of the movement, putting pressure on the company, and obtaining temporary employment from the company as security guards, and obtaining sponsorships and allowances through industrial training sponsorships and what was popularly called unemployment allowances. The allowances and employment were paltry. This article foregrounds the actions of young men in contexts where their futures appear uncertain as the project dispossesses them without much wherewithal and the narrow windows of opportunities might foreclose soon if left untapped in the present.

Methodologically, this article is based on ethnographic fieldwork conducted periodically between 2010 and 2012 in villages around the Utkal refinery. Detailed interviews and participant observation were conducted with the mining company officials, district administrators, villagers and leaders of the collective struggle. Young men in this article refer to persons within the age group of 18–30 years. Documents and archival resources were obtained from Utkal, district administration, and movement leaders. My familiarity with the highly inflected languages spoken locally was useful in obtaining insightful information from the village participants. The article seeks to “construct perspectives on globalization from below, i.e., grounded globalisations … through ethnographic grounding” (Burawoy, 2000, pp. 339–341). Such a construction demands robust ethnographic insights into the interaction of mining actors with the local actors—acting upon each other and shaping one another’s politics.

Based on the ethnographic fieldwork in the villages adjacent to the Utkal refinery plant in Kashipur, I ask, how should the young villagers and mining company engagements be conceptualized? Can it be read as young Adivasi–Dalit men taking responsibility for their futures or should it be seen as vulnerable young villagers seeking out small windows of opportunities in contexts where futures appear uncertain as their existing livelihoods are rapidly snuffed out before their eyes? I turn now to present a brief description of the trajectory of the Kashipur people’s struggle also called Kashipur movement and the geography of the region.

Kashipur Movement

In the mid-1990s, surveyors began to dig trenches in agricultural lands in the Ramibeda Valley in Kashipur. When the villagers opposed them, they were told all these lands would be transferred to a mining company to set up a refinery and extract bauxite from a nearby hill. The Adivasi and Dalit villagers were terrified that they would lose their lands and livelihoods. They organized themselves under the Prakrutika Sampada Suraksha Parishad [(PSSP), roughly translated as Natural Resources Protection Council]. They sought out more information on the proposed Utkal project, and as information regarding the proposed scale of the project began to trickle, they opposed it tooth and nail. Initially, a consortium of three multinational companies—Norsk Hydro (Norwegian mining company), Indal (Indian subsidiary of the Aluminium Company of Canada), and Tata Iron and Steel Company (TISCO)—Utkal became a wholly owned subsidiary of Aditya Birla’s metals flagship company, Hindalco group, in 2007. The project proposed mining the Baphlimali hills in Kashipur and establishing its refinery plant in Ramibeda Valley, which also became the locus of the Kashipur struggle.

Kashipur lies in the Eastern Ghats of India, a discontinuous range of mountains along India’s eastern coast. ⁴ As a region of hilly tracts, it is marked by high, flat-top hills that form conspicuous landmarks. Kashipur is bound on the west by the gigantic Baphlimali hills that form a natural border between Rayagada and Kalahandi districts. The region has a fragile resource base. Historically, only a quarter of the total geographical area was available for farming (Senapati & Sahu, 1966). Of the total landmass of 371,893 acres in Kashipur block, more than 70% is covered by hilltops and valley slopes. A mere 27% of plain land is available for cultivation (SLUSD, 1989).

A majority of the villagers had marginal livelihoods based on agriculture and wage labor. In the 1990s, less than 30% of the villagers were food secure (TARU, 1996). Since the 1980s, this ecologically fragile region has been in the spotlight for malnutrition deaths. In 1987, 400 deaths were reported due to malnutrition and there have been instances of sale of children due to distress (Ahmed, 1987; Currie, 2000). According to Census data, in 2010–2011, over 85% of farmers were small and marginal farmers, with an average landholding of 1.19 ac (Agricultural Census of Kashipur, 2010/2011). The region is inhabited by both the Adivasis and the Dalits. Among the Adivasis, Jhodia and Kondh Adivasis dominate the area, comprising over 60% of the population. Dalits comprise 21% of the population (Census Abstract of Kashipur, 2011).

Since the inception of the project, Utkal-related works were attacked. On a few occasions, the people involved in these works were taken hostage. Soon, social activists from the state mobilized work in the area. The younger activists encouraged young villagers to get involved in mobilizing work. They would spend time with these young men walking together and organizing meetings in neighboring villages. A large number of young villagers joined the PSSP.

With young villagers as foot soldiers, PSSP expanded its mobilization over a much larger area. At the local level, PSSP had divided the mobilization areas into several zones, each including a couple of villages. In the big meetings occurring in such zones, local young men and boys played an instrumental role in mobilizing and organizing work (often on their own). This also required them to stay in these villages to address meetings. PSSP exhorted villagers to support them for their collective destiny, explaining the damage to the natural environment and its role in disrupting and endangering their social existence. The movement faced severe repression—policemen and company-hired goons would routinely beat up leaders and participants. On several occasions in 1995 and 1996, villagers were locked up in the police latrines near neighboring Tikiri and beaten up for resisting the proposed mining project. The district administration also threatened the villagers with jailing if they resisted the company.

In 1996, a few fearful villages accepted compensation for land when the administration forced them to accept it. The compensation rate was arbitrarily fixed at 21,000–27,000 Indian national rupees per acre. Compared to the price of land in neighboring non-tribal panchayats, whose prices ranged between ₹300,000 and ₹600,000 during the late 1990s, the compensation rates paid out were paltry. During this period, an environment of fear was created as the administration slapped a slew of criminal cases on the PSSP leaders and participants (see Dash, 2017). In one such incident, when a key leader was jailed at Tikiri police station, hundreds of villagers marched there armed with traditional arms—axes, hoes, and sickles and stormed the jail to release him. Despite the repression, the PSSP remained undeterred and continued to mobilize the villages over a larger area and slowly, over a period, had enough confidence to organize rallies and bal pradarshan (show of strength) meetings with a cluster of villagers. Many villagers, including those who had accepted compensation amount, angered by unjust police action against their brethren, also attended these meetings eagerly.

By 1997–1998, PSSP could organize big meetings in Tikiri and Kashipur in which up to 8,000 villagers participated. For a region with a population of 101,995 (Census Survey Abstract, 1993) with villages with an average population of 200, this was a significant number. With a large area mobilized the threat and fear of company-sponsored goons reduced significantly. Those villagers who worked for the company were openly challenged, confronted, and in some cases, physically targeted by PSSP supporters. Company-sponsored goons were confronted by PSSP members, and in a few cases, fearing revenge, some prominent company goons left the area. The movement achieved its first big success during this period: TISCO withdrew from the project consortium in 1997–1998 citing local protests. At its height, PSSP became a force to reckon with. Things between PSSP and the administration pushing for the project came to a head in 2000. In an unprovoked police fire in the Maikanch village in 2000, three tribal villagers died. Immediately, the project was put on ice, and the project’s prospects became dim and uncertain.

Attempts were made to revive the project in 2004–2006. By this time, other UAIL partners had also withdrawn from the project after selling their stake to Hindalco. In December 2004, a large police outpost was set up amid huge opposition next to the proposed refinery site, and paramilitary forces swarmed the area for a year. Active police repression and low-intensity paramilitary repression paralyzed the movement’s attempts at mass mobilization. PSSP leaders were arrested, preventing local mobility, and the area was sealed off to outsiders.

Between 2004 and 2006, two villages (Kendukhunti, a Dalit village, and Ramibeda, an Adivasi village) were displaced at gunpoint and relocated to a neighboring rehabilitation and resettlement colony to make way for the refinery. Residents of D. Karol (lower colony)—comprising landless Dalits—were also declared displaced. A makeshift office was set up, and land-leveling work on the refinery site began.

The collective struggle was not over though. Between 2007 and 2010, collective opposition to Utkal took the shape of strikes in which all the stakeholder villagers participated and mounted strident opposition to the company. Between 2008 and 2010, the company construction work was stopped for over 250 days and the villagers sat in front of the refinery gates. For the tumultuous nine months, the company’s construction work was paralyzed as the villagers locked all the offices of Utkal and stopped construction work at its many sites, including the refinery.

A charter of demands with 38 points was drawn up. The key demands included: raising the compensation amount to ₹10 lakh per acre, withdrawing all the criminal cases filed against over 1,000 villagers for opposing the mining company and permanent employment to all those displaced and those who had lost land for the project. The process of negotiations between the striking villagers and Utkal did lead to an increase in compensation rates that were raised to ₹3.4 lakh, and displaced communities were eventually provided with employment letters with monthly salaries of ₹1,200. During the period of strike from 2008 to 2010, several leaders of the strikes were offered contracts in order to soften their opposition to the mining company. Some leaders were also encouraged to directly break the strikes through inducements of construction contracts (Dash, 2023).

Over this period, a small class of contractors appeared in the area. Between 2008 and 2010, the dynamics of strikes engendered tensions between different groups that the mining company exploited to deepen its presence in the area. During the strikes, deep fissures emerged between those displaced and those who had retained their farmlands indicating a gulf of difference between a still-existing peasantry and a proletarianized workforce. Those displaced from the project got employment and titles to their allotted houses in the resettled colony. All of the villagers who had lost land, irrespective of whether they were displaced or not, had received substantial gains in the compensation amount.

However, there were frequent squabbles between the displaced. As it is, the displaced persons framed each day spent at the strikes without any tangible outcome as a loss of wages for the day as they had turned into wage laborers. Each time, after the strikes, the displaced villagers, both Adivasi and Dalits, entered into arguments with other villagers over their suffering due to the strikes. They accused the other protestors of enjoying their troubles and PSSP of pursuing its agenda of “no plant, no mining” and being more interested in stalling the project rather than solving their problems. This discouraged the villagers from participating in collective action.

By 2010, the movement lay in a state of decline as the strikes collapsed in the absence of villagers supporting it (for the dynamics of the strikes, see Dash, 2023). During this period, the mining company rapidly began construction-related work. Staggered community–company engagements mark this juncture. In this new scenario, the local youth, who were at the forefront of resistance, began to engage vigorously with the mining company. During the strikes, a new class of contractors was created in the area.

Utkal documents reveal that construction contracts of up to ₹77.6 million were given to several committee leaders by mid-2008. It further increased to 181 million in 2009 and was at ₹201 million in 2010 (UAIL Work Order Document, 2011). Many of these contractors flashed a lifestyle of riding motorbikes, wearing jeans, and carrying mobile phones that were new in the area (I will discuss this in greater detail in the next section). Many young men who were earlier engaged in the movement were also attracted to this. They began to engage closely with the mining company so as not to be left behind in this race of doing well. The next section provides an outline of the nature of negotiations that occurred between the mining company and young men, and its outcome.

Young Men-Mining Company Engagements

The youth were the most active members of PSSP, virtually forming the frontline of opposition to the company in the past. As noted earlier, Utkal could not start work due to strikes by the protesting villagers. It was during this period that some leaders or active participants of PSSP or representatives of the displaced communities were lured with economic benefits. By 2010–2011, every village had a few contractors. They flashed a certain kind of lifestyle and consumption that was new to the area.

They rode bikes, carried mobile phones, wore shades, shoes, and jeans, and owned television sets and, in a few cases, even cars. They ate out in hotels in Rayagada or Tikiri and spent money on beer. In a sense, they brought a specific kind of lifestyle that was both attractive and seemingly attainable. During this period, the mining company showed enormous flexibility in engaging with the youth. Different young men, based on their position in PSSP, could negotiate different kinds of temporary economic benefits for themselves. By 2012, any hopes that collective action would resume were also extinguished due to the engagement of Sangram participants—who were the foot soldiers of the movement, with the company for pecuniary benefits.

Broadly, one can categorize these youth engagements with the company as attempts to gain monthly allowances, locally called Bhatta or Bhatia, obtain petty construction contracts or get training sponsorships towards permanent jobs. There is also a small group of young men that the company had hired as the Village Auxiliary Force (VAF). We shall look at these engagements one by one.

Monthly Allowances and Contracts

The mining company engaged in what could be questionable, ethically if not legally, in engaging with the young men by providing them with irregular monthly allowances. This allowance was neither compensation nor against any work. Company documents marked this payment as payment for non-work. These payments were, according to a senior company official who wanted to remain anonymous, a small price to “buy peace.” ⁵ Various official documents obtained from the company present a partial picture of this relationship. These documents revealed that over 4,000 individuals received an allowance from one or more contractors irregularly, extending for years. Often the amount of allowance was between ₹3,000 and ₹5,000. This paltry amount equals the minimum wage for unskilled workers in Odisha, which was in 2009 at the rate of ₹150 per day. ⁶ The term allowance was a shared vocabulary among the villagers, the mining company, and its corporate contractors. The 26 contractors of the company, which include the big contractors like Larsen & Turbo, Paharpur Cooling Systems, Gannon Dunkerley Co. Ltd., and Gulf Oil Corporation, regularly submitted detailed updates on the engagement of local people to the company. ⁷

Most existing studies on the employment of locals in mining projects show that jobs generated in mining projects often go to outsiders (Parry, 1999; Xaxa, 2012). What we find in this case, however, is that these practices encouraged a patrimonial relationship between the local communities and the mining company and bred competition among social groups and villages (Gustafsson, 2018).

Returning to the discussion on allowances, the most popular method of getting an allowance, it appeared, was to get the Human Resource Manager or an administrative head to sign on their applications. The second method was to obstruct vehicles of the mining company or its work at construction sites. A positive outcome in either case assured monthly allowance from the company, at least temporarily. The temporary, seemingly patrimonial relationships were not automatically granted by the mining company but were a consequence of the assertion of young men.

This was quite contrary to the company’s practices, which, instead of regular jobs, favored giving only contracts and allowances to young men—whether educated or not. There is definite clarity in the minds of the youth that temporary engagement will not necessarily translate into permanent jobs. However, many hope that if they wait for the right moment, then the company will definitely offer them something in the future. At times, it appeared like empty hope without much substance, although many of the young men hoped that if things turned out well, they could also become full-time contractors and earn good money. Few others wanted to complete their matriculation so that they could do training from one of the industrial training institutes and find work in the company. With literacy levels at 31% (Census Abstract of Kashipur, 2011) and perhaps just a few individuals who had a matriculation degree in the villages, one wondered how many of these young men could do this technical training and get jobs.

Industrial Training Sponsorships

There was another group of young men, who had either finished their matriculation or dropped out a year before and were seen huddled in groups in the company office at Doraguda. Many came with articles with their bio-data to get sponsorships for ITI training. Some came with applications signed by PSSP leaders. The documents accessed by me show that 33 persons were doing vocational training in the neighboring town of Jeypore, and 63 persons had joined the recently opened Kashipur Industrial Training Centre in Kashipur over the period of 2009–2011. ⁸ Many young boys hoped that doing the training would get them a job in the company. A few had also suggested that if the company sponsored their training, they could do the training for free and might find some work at another mining company in the neighboring area as trainees. Sometimes, these boys came with a PSSP participant who spoke with the CEO on their behalf. Many felt that PSSP members were likelier to get these trainings sponsored for them, as they were seen as articulate and persuasive.

A group of persons, specifically from Nuapada, Dwimundi, D Karol, Kucheipadar, and Os apada, had finished their ITI training several years back. They were less hopeful about future employment prospects in the company. Khagapati Nayak of Nuapada village reported:

We were promised jobs by the company. We have undergone so many trainings. Now there is perhaps only one training left. Now we need to do the training of how-to-butcher-the-CEO. The company told us that you will sit in your homes and get ₹10,000 every month. Every time we visited him, he said they would give us jobs in 2010; they haven’t given us anything yet. We do not want to sit, we want to work but we do not have any jobs. The outsiders with the same diploma get ₹15,000, we do not even get 5,000. If it does not give us anything now, will it give us anything in the future when the walls are scaled up? ⁹

The company did not reveal the number of outsiders or people from far-off villages working in the company with ITI training. I met several people from far-off villages who worked in the company in technical trade. There were many outside workers—from Andhra Pradesh, West Bengal, and other parts of Orissa—whose qualifications were similar to such technical training. Many of the company officials noted that they wanted to give jobs to the locals, but that they were not adequately qualified. However, it was visible that even qualified and ITI-trained locals were not considered for any jobs in the company. Instead, outsiders were preferred over locals, a phenomenon observed in many mining areas. Mining companies often argue that there is a lack of technical competence among the local mining communities; in reality, one finds that mining companies avoid hiring local villagers because they are considered belligerent and are likely to hold some political power over them.

For most local young boys, allowances are, thus, the only form of obtainable income, whether or not they want to work. Often, the youth spend a hectic time figuring out ways of sustaining this income. At the same time, there was another group of young men—mostly uneducated but active in the movement, who were inducted by the company as its first line of defense—the VAF, tasked with protecting the company against the “demanding villagers,” as per accounts of company managers. ¹⁰

Village Auxiliary Force

One of the jobs that the company had given exclusively to local boys was that of VAF. Around 15–20 people were always found to guard the office of the HR manager. This group of boys was called the VAF. It was one of the earliest security teams formed to protect the company and its premises from the uncivil locals, according to the mining officials. ¹¹ VAF was formed in early 2010 by the company to protect itself from any potential physical attack on company officials and prevent damage to company property by locals.

Paradoxically, the VAF drew from the same cadre of young men and active participants who formed the frontline of resistance to the company in the past. In 2012, it comprised 107 young men, mostly drawn from three villages. Their role became amply relevant in the immediate tumultuous past of the company, when it was not unusual for tens or hundreds of local communities to barge into their cabins, destroy the office furniture with traditional weapons and physically assault officials. Such attacks had continued throughout 2008–2009. In 2009, following one such massive attack on the company, several big company contractors’ offices were vandalized; most of the contractors stopped their operations and left, leaving the company with an uncertain future.

In this context, VAF members feared the possible loss of their jobs, as the company hired a new security team based in Delhi for security without informing them. They hoped the company would keep its promise of giving them permanent jobs because “they had done so much for the company.” ¹² Suji was a foot soldier of PSSP. He decided to join the VAF as, in his own words, “the movement is over. the company will certainly take over our lands and we would become landless. In such a situation, if we do not get a job, how would we survive?” He went ahead to explain that whereas the company readily offered to hire the initial batch as VAFs, by early 2011, they were not keen to hire more people, seeing them as a liability, since collective action had subsided completely. The company believed the worst was over. Suji and his friends, he narrated, prevailed over the CEO and other officers after threatening them of unsavory consequences if they were not hired as VAF. Yet, there were fears that VAF would be suspended, and they would be left to fend for themselves—without any employment or resources. Their fears were not unfounded. The Human Resource Manager of Utkal, quite candidly, admitted in an interview that they did not need such a big VAF and might retain just 32 members.

Most of the young men were worried that the windows of opportunities that seemed available to them would cease in the future. “Once the walls scale up, they will not give us anything,” was the often-heard statement. ¹³ Many believed that if they showed up every day and asserted themselves before the HR Manager, there was a greater likelihood to get the job done. A young man impersonated the HR manager to explain how this would work—“ok, ok … go away, take what you want. Stop eating my head.” ¹⁴ Compared to the assertive attitude of the PSSP participants who appeared more positive, those not active in PSSP spoke with more uncertainty. As evident, young men across the plant area discussed contracts, allowances and status of company works at different sites almost daily, reflecting on possible ways of gaining access to economic opportunities.

The actions of the young men may be understood as being guided by their concerns for the uncertainty that the project might bring to them. Their eyes firmly rested on their fears in a context where collective action had collapsed. The company’s presence was eyes firmly rested on their fears in a context where collective action had collapsed, and the company’s presence was their new reality. Furthermore, they were also familiar with the fate of the local villagers in the neighboring mining sites in Koraput, where many of the villagers from Kashipur migrated to work as laborers in the 1980s and 1990s (Fieldnotes, 2010–2012). They had seen that in these places, giant walls had been scaled up, and armed security personnel were stationed to prevent the entry of local villagers into the mining plant. This keener sense of emergency in the area that the narrow windows of opportunity would foreclose in the future stemmed from the primacy of real time and the absence of any reference to a collective aim (Binde, 2000).

Overall, this also informs the larger context in which the engagements between young villagers and Utkal occur. Young men engaging directly with the mining company to obtain economic benefits in the form of sponsorships and low-paying employment is an act of people taking responsibility for themselves. On the surface, this development appears to align with the recent studies on neoliberal governance which suggest that a process of responsibilization is afoot worldwide. Responsibilization is defined as a process that considers individuals as autonomous entities, in which autonomous individuals are free to make choices and take responsibility for their actions based on personal ambitions and aspirations (Barry et al., 1996; Burchell, 1993; Lemke, 2001; Miller & Rose, 2008; Rose et al., 2006). It is a key mechanism of contemporary neo-liberal governance (Barry et al., 1996; Lemke, 2001; Miller & Rose, 2008).

This article shows that the logic of the neoliberal mechanism of responsibilization does not convincingly explain the engagements of the young villagers in Kashipur with the mining company. As their familiar material and social worlds disappeared rapidly before their eyes and futures appeared uncertain, what options did they really have, no matter what their aspirations might be, but to seek out the small windows of opportunities that existed at the moment? These windows in the context of the mining company’s flexibility to engage with these men through these small opportunities explain the engagements between the young villagers and the mining company.

Concluding Remarks

This article demonstrates how young men guided by an interest in securing their futures behave in a social context with very limited resources to do this. Neither the state nor the mining company in this case wanted to take any responsibility for the people dispossessed from their lands. Except for the paltry compensation they provided, the state showed no interest in the lives of the dispossessed villagers. The mining company tried to snuff out the collective protests of the villagers by showing a flexibility that many of the young men knew was temporary and yet, they wanted to make the best of this.

In the absence of collective action or hopes that collective action would be rekindled in the area, the young men were compelled to fend for their future. However, because of the limited opportunities available, some were more able than others to do this. This case study showcases the processes at work in mining areas where dispossessed communities are left to figure out their survival. As similar capital accumulation processes intensify across the Global South, they will most likely cause the massive displacement of vulnerable communities and the destruction of fragile ecosystems, and the dispossessed inhabitants of these communities will be pushed into marginality and their young men forced into insecure and low-paying jobs.