Bruhaspati Samal
General Secretary
Confederation of Central Govt Employees and Workers
Odisha State CoC, Bhubaneswar
When democracy grows deaf to the cries of its people, strikes and bandhs become not disruptions but the only remaining language of protest. The nationwide general strike on 9th July 2025, called by 10 Central Trade Unions and several independent federations, raised long-standing issues like price rise, unemployment, privatization, wage stagnation, pension insecurity, and the weakening of labour laws. A few days later, Odisha witnessed a 12-hour bandh on 17th July, called by opposition parties demanding justice for Ms. Soumyasri Bisi, the college student who died by self-immolation after months of harassment and inaction. While many supported the cause, others criticised the bandh, calling it political drama or an inconvenience. But such reactions reflect a growing disconnect between public perception and the core purpose of a strike.
Strikes are never the first option. They arise only when all other channels—dialogue, letters, appeals—are exhausted. And yet, there’s increasing public resentment that such actions disturb daily life. Offices close, markets shut, buses stay off roads, and the day seems lost. People often ask, “What does a bandh achieve?These unions are only doing politics. Nothing ever changes.” But such criticism often arises from a lack of awareness or disconnection from the very issues being raised. The answer lies in history and principle: strikes are the tools of the voiceless when systems stop listening.
Across India, such protests have shaped key policy decisions. The two-day general strike in January 2019 saw over 20 crore workers demanding action on price rise, minimum wage, and anti-labour reforms. The government was forced to slow its privatization push and announce social security schemes. In 2020 and 2022, Bharat Bandhs called by Central Trade Unions against labour codes and mass unemployment delayed the implementation of contentious laws and reignited debate on employment guarantees. Employee-specific strikes have had similar impacts. In 2016, central government staff protested for 7th Pay Commission benefits and rollback of the New Pension Scheme. Their strike ultimately led to revised pay structures and increased scrutiny of NPS. Postal employees in 2018 protested for cadre restructuring and GDS rights, which led to wage revisions and recruitment drives. Bank staff, through coordinated strikes, secured wage agreements and delayed forced mergers.
These outcomes prove that strikes, though inconvenient, often yield results. They are not mere rituals but instruments of pressure, especially when democratic institutions fail to respond. However, the growing tendency among people—especially the middle class—to dismiss every strike as “politics” is deeply concerning. This dismissiveness weakens the spirit of protest and empowers bureaucratic apathy.
When the 17th July bandh was observed in Odisha, many people criticised the political parties for disrupting normal life. Several citizens complained about the bandh as "unnecessary disturbance." One wonders—had the same tragedy happened to their daughter or sister, would they still call the protest politics? Would they not seek justice with every means available? Strikes and bandhs become necessary not because protestors enjoy confrontation, but because all other doors—letters, complaints, petitions, dialogues—have been shut. Strikes become a moral call, not just a political act. Every political party, when in opposition, brings the callousness of the government to light through trade union activities like strikes and bandhs—which, in fact, is the very beauty of democracy.
Of course, not all strikes are well-conducted. There have been instances where public messaging was weak, emergency services were disrupted, and leaders failed to maintain discipline. These flaws need correction. Organizers must communicate the purpose clearly, ensure minimum inconvenience, and maintain public trust. But that does not mean the principle of the strike should be abandoned.
On the other side, the government must stop seeing every strike as a threat and instead view it as a signal of unresolved grievance. A time-bound, transparent mechanism for negotiations could prevent many strikes from happening. A responsive state has nothing to fear from its workers and citizens. Above all, the public must revisit its own role. Strikes are not meant to trouble people—they are meant to protect people. The demand for fair wages, secure jobs, pension rights, and women’s safety affects everyone, not just the protestors. By discrediting every bandh, we risk normalizing indifference. Silence, too, is a political act—and often the most dangerous one.
Around the world, developed democracies treat strikes as legitimate tools of civil resistance. In France, protests against pension reforms shut down transport services regularly. In Germany, strikes by railway workers over wage issues are common and legally protected. India, with its proud legacy of Satyagraha and peaceful dissent, must preserve this right.
Strikes and bandhs are uncomfortable, yes. But they are also necessary. They remind governments that power belongs to the people, not to the privileged few.
As Mahatma Gandhi said, “Silence becomes cowardice when occasion demands speaking out the whole truth and acting accordingly.” To strike is not to obstruct—it is to awaken. And sometimes, in a sleeping democracy, awakening is the only way forward.
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