(This article was originally published in Tamil and has been translated into English.)
The DMK government’s handling of the recent 13-day sanitation workers’ strike — and the political theatre that followed — has sparked criticism not only from the opposition but also from within its own sympathisers. What really happened, and why has the issue become a thorn in the government’s side? Let’s take a closer look.
Chennai Corporation’s sanitation operations are divided into 15 zones. In 2020, under the AIADMK regime, 10 zones were privatised despite fierce protests from sanitation workers. At that time, DMK leader M.K. Stalin, then Leader of the Opposition, openly supported the workers, writing to the Corporation demanding permanency for them.
Yet, when the DMK came to power in 2021, instead of reversing this policy, the government continued down the same path. Of the five unprivatised zones, Thiruvika Nagar and Royapettah were brought under a contract with private operator Ramki.
For sanitation workers, this was a devastating blow. Many had served 10–20 years under the central government’s NULM scheme, drawing wages fixed at ₹23,000 by court order. Under Ramki, however, their wages were slashed to ₹16,000, with added fears of exploitation, longer hours, and fewer protections.
This was in direct contrast to the DMK’s 285th poll promise — to fulfil sanitation workers’ demands for fair wages, permanency, and pension. Workers who had pinned their hopes on that promise now felt betrayed.
On August 1, sanitation workers launched a protest in front of Ripon Building, spearheaded by the Labour Rights Movement and supported by the Left Trade Union Centre. What the DMK thought would fizzle out in a few days instead intensified into a full-fledged agitation.
Students, political parties, and even film personalities expressed solidarity. Media coverage kept the spotlight on the strike. Meanwhile, government negotiations, led by Minister Sekar Babu, Mayor Priya, and occasionally Minister K.N. Nehru, failed repeatedly because officials insisted on privatisation while workers stood firm on permanency.
Workers even alleged that intermediaries linked to Minister Sekar Babu attempted to buy them off with money and housing — raising further questions about his unusual role as the chief negotiator.
As the protest grew in momentum — drawing comparisons to the Jallikattu movement — the government scrambled for options. A sudden PIL was filed by a woman named Thenmozhi, claiming the protest was causing public inconvenience. The court swiftly ordered eviction, and police arrested workers in the middle of the night.
While workers were dragged off the streets, Chief Minister Stalin was photographed at a special screening of the film Coolie, congratulating the crew. The timing backfired. Critics asked: “Does the Chief Minister have time for cinema but not for workers fighting for their livelihood?”
Adding fuel to suspicions, photos later surfaced of PIL petitioner Thenmozhi with Minister Sekar Babu — leading many to allege the case was orchestrated.
To divert attention, the government convened a cabinet meeting. Soon after, Industries Minister Thangam Thennarasu announced a set of welfare measures: free breakfast for sanitation workers, 30,000 new housing units in three years, ₹10 lakh health insurance, and compensation for families in case of death on duty.
But glaringly absent was any mention of the protesters’ core demand: permanency of jobs.
The next act of the drama unfolded when a group of sanitation workers, separate from the protesting faction, met the Chief Minister to express gratitude for these schemes. Photos and media bites were arranged, presenting an image of resolution. But the actual strikers were excluded, silenced further by a court order gagging their leaders from speaking to the press or on social media until August 21.
The contrast was stark: the workers who fought were dispersed, while another set of workers was showcased as “beneficiaries” to project a happy ending.
The controversy has left a bitter taste. The DMK government, which once vocally opposed AIADMK’s privatisation of sanitation work, now stands accused of pursuing the same agenda — even at the cost of betraying its own poll promise.
Why privatise in the face of such disrepute? Why was one company given the contract? And why was the protest silenced instead of addressed?
For now, the government’s attempt to script a political cover-up has only deepened public distrust. The sanitation workers’ voices — forcibly muted — still echo in the city’s conscience.