Workers In India Need Rights, Not Blame – OpEd

(UCA News) — A seismic rift between corporate interests and labor welfare has erupted in India‘s construction sector after Larsen & Toubro Chairman SN Subrahmanyan pointed fingers at social welfare schemes for the industry’s labor shortage.

Speaking at a Confederation of Indian Industry (CII) summit on Feb. 11, the industry titan — already under fire for advocating a controversial 90-hour work week — claimed that government benefits are creating a “comfort” zone that discourages worker migration.

Subrahmanyan’s remarks have thrust India’s delicate balance between industrial growth and social protection into the national spotlight, raising questions about the true cost of development. It demands a rigorous examination of the socio-economic fabric underpinning the nation’s workforce dynamics.

To accept such a narrative at face value would be to ignore the systemic inequities — perpetuated by profit-driven corporate practices, outdated labor laws, and a glaring disconnect between boardroom priorities and the lived experiences of millions of workers — that have long defined India’s labor markets

Subrahmanyan’s remarks hinge on the assumption that welfare initiatives like rural employment guarantee and free food grain distribution have created a culture of dependency. According to this logic, the modest financial security these schemes provide — often amounting to a few thousand rupees annually — is sufficient to deter laborers from seeking employment in grueling construction jobs.

This argument, however, collapses under scrutiny.

The rural employment guarantee scheme offers 100 days of unskilled work in a year at minimum wages that vary around 200 rupees (US$2.31) per day. This is barely enough to cover basic sustenance in a country where inflation has eroded purchasing power and where informal sector workers lack access to health care, education, and social security.

The real issue, as labor rights advocates and economists have repeatedly emphasized, is not welfare but exploitation.

Construction workers in India toil under conditions that border on indentured servitude: unsafe work sites lacking basic safety gear, wages delayed by months, and contracts that deny them benefits like paid leave, insurance, or pensions.

A 2023 study by the International Labor Organization (ILO) found that over 60 percent of construction workers in India earn less than 15,000 rupees per month, far below the living wage threshold for urban areas.

Meanwhile, companies like L&T — a conglomerate with a market capitalization exceeding US$50 billion — have reported record profits, buoyed by government infrastructure contracts and tax incentives. The chairman’s suggestion that laborers are “unwilling” to work reeks of victim-blaming, deflecting attention from the industry’s refusal to pay fair wages or invest in humane working conditions.

Subrahmanyan’s comparison of Indian laborers to their Chinese counterparts further exposes the flawed premises of his argument. He cites China’s 90-hour workweeks as a model of productivity, neglecting to mention that India’s Factories Act legally caps weekly work hours at 48. This comparison is not just apples to oranges; it is a reckless endorsement of labor practices that have been widely condemned as exploitative.

China’s economic rise, built on state-controlled unions, suppressed wages. Its authoritarian labor policies are hardly a template for a democratic nation aspiring to equitable growth. Moreover, Chinese workers, despite their longer hours, benefit from stronger social security nets, including subsidized housing and health care — benefits Indian laborers can only dream of.

The L&T chairman’s selective framing ignores the structural disparities between the two nations, reducing a complex issue to a simplistic binary of “hard work” versus “laziness.”

The discourse also overlooks the transformative shifts in India’s employment landscape. Migration patterns reveal that workers are increasingly abandoning rural construction jobs for urban gig economy roles — as delivery riders, cab drivers, or warehouse helpers — where pay is marginally better and conditions less hazardous. The rise of platforms like Swiggy, Zomato, and Amazon has created alternatives to the backbreaking, low-status labor associated with construction sites.

Simultaneously, though unevenly implemented, government skilling initiatives have enabled a section of youth to transition into sectors like information technology, retail, and hospitality. This suggests laborers are not rejecting work but are voting with their feet against industries that treat them as disposable commodities.

At the heart of this debate lies the question of productivity. Corporate leaders often lament India’s “low productivity” compared to global benchmarks, yet they sidestep the role of capital in driving efficiency. Investments in automation, worker training, and safety infrastructure remain pitifully low in the construction sector.

A 2022 report by CII noted that less than 10 percent of construction firms allocate funds for skill development or mechanization. Instead, the sector relies on manual labor for tasks that could be automated, perpetuating a cycle of inefficiency and worker exploitation.

When laborers are viewed as cheap, replaceable inputs rather than stakeholders in productivity, their disillusionment is inevitable.

Subrahmanyan’s crass remark — “How long can you stare at your wife?” — referring to weekly holidays on Sundays adds another layer of condescension to the debate. Beyond its sexist undertones, it reflects a managerial ethos that equates worker dignity with idleness.

The idea that laborers might prioritize family, health, or leisure over unending drudgery is anathema to an industry accustomed to treating humans as machines. This mindset is symptomatic of a broader corporate culture that measures success solely in terms of profit margins and stock prices, divorced from the human cost of such “growth.”

The L&T chairman’s perspective also underscores a colonial hangover in how India’s elite perceive labor, the term “laborer” carrying connotations of inferiority, evoking a rigid hierarchy where blue-collar work is deemed less valuable than white-collar roles.

This mindset ignores the fact that construction workers — often migrants from marginalized communities — are the backbone of India’s infrastructure ambitions. Their labor builds the roads, airports, and smart cities celebrated as symbols of national progress.

To dismiss their demands for better pay and conditions as ingratitude is to perpetuate a casteist and classist worldview that has no place in a modern democracy.

The backlash against Subrahmanyan’s comments has been swift and visceral, with social media users urging him to “spend a day” on a construction site to understand workers’ struggles. This sentiment echoes a growing global movement demanding corporate accountability.

CEOs in India earn over 400 times the average worker’s salary, yet they rarely face scrutiny for their role in perpetuating inequality. The L&T chairman’s annual compensation package reportedly exceeding ₹500 million contrasts starkly with the 15,000 rupee monthly wage of an L&T construction worker — a disparity that lays bare the hypocrisy of lecturing workers on “comfort.”

The government’s role in this ecosystem cannot be overlooked. While welfare schemes have provided a lifeline to millions, their implementation remains patchy, plagued by corruption and exclusion errors.

A more holistic approach would involve strengthening labor laws, mandating safety protocols, and ensuring timely payment of wages. The Occupational Safety, Health, and Working Conditions Code-2020, which subsumed 13 existing labor laws, has been criticized for diluting worker protections in favor of employer flexibility. Without stringent enforcement and punitive measures for violations, such laws remain toothless.

Ultimately, this controversy is a microcosm of India’s broader development paradox. The nation aspires to become a US$5 trillion economy, yet it refuses to confront the exploitation embedded in its growth model. It also inadvertently highlights the success of welfare schemes in empowering workers to reject exploitative jobs.

In invoking “Purusharthas,” the ancient Indian philosophy of life’s four goals (dharma or righteousness, artha or prosperity, kama or fulfillment, and moksha or liberation),  critics of welfare reveal their own selective interpretation.

The pursuit of moksha is not confined to spiritual realms; it encompasses freedom from economic bondage and the right to a life of dignity. When workers demand fair wages and safe conditions, they assert their artha to achieve kama and, ultimately, moksha, from cycles of poverty. To deny them this pursuit is to betray the very cultural values the elite claim to uphold.

The path forward requires a recalibration of priorities. Companies must recognize that sustainable growth is impossible without investing in human capital. This means paying living wages, ensuring workplace safety, and collaborating with unions to address grievances.

The government, for its part, must expand welfare coverage while integrating it with skill development programs that enhance employability. Civil society and media have a critical role in amplifying worker voices and holding power to account.

The real question is not why laborers are “unwilling” to work, but why corporate Indiaremains unwilling to see them as humans. Until this changes, the bridges, highways, and towers built by their hands will stand as monuments not to progress but to exploitation.

• The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official editorial position of UCA News.