The Economist 04Apr2020

The EconomistApril 4th 2020 43

1

W

here do youbelong? This is not a

metaphysical question. For English-

speaking Indians, “belonging” to a place

means simply that you come from there, as

in, “I live in Delhi but belong to Bengal.” Yet

for millions of migrant labourers, not only

in India but across Asia, covid-19 has given

the question new meaning. A Malaysian

worker in a Singapore electronics plant, a

Filipina servant in a wealthy household in

Bangkok or a Bihari cook in a Delhi restau-

rant all face a similar dilemma. In a time of

mass layoffs, curfews and sharp travel re-

strictions, where do they belong?

Prosperous expatriates can choose

whether to stay or go, and if they are citi-

zens of rich countries, their governments

may help to fly them home. But for many

the sudden absence of work leaves little

choice. It is not just hard to survive in ex-

pensive cities without a paycheck. Wheth-

er you are one of the estimated 2m interna-

tional migrants in South-East Asia

labouring as servants, or toil in one of hun-

dreds of thousands of small industrial

workshops that power such Indian indus-

tries as gem-polishing or shoemaking,

your place of work is also often where you

eat and sleep. Even after years on the job,

the minute you step off the treadmill there

is nothing for it but to head “home”.

So it was that when Narendra Modi, In-

dia’s prime minister, on March 24th an-

nounced a snap decision to lock down all

the country’s 1.3bn people for 21 days and to

suspend rail, road and air transport, the

immediate closure of businesses forced a

hefty chunk of the workforce into awkward

motion. At least 600,000 people, according

to the government’s very low estimate, be-

gan to move. Despite the daunting distance

between bustling cities such as Surat on In-

dia’s west coast, and impoverished sources

of rural emigration such as the state of Ut-

tar Pradesh, many simply started walking

along the empty roads.

Chastened by wrenching television im-

ages of the exodus, state governments ar-

ranged buses for some of the migrants, and

Mr Modi himself apologised for any incon-

venience caused. But then the central gov-

ernment changed tack again. The mass

flight, it realised, was undoing the very

purpose of the lockdown, which was to

stop the spread of the virus. In testimony to

India’s supreme court, the government

claimed—somewhat improbably—that as

many as one in three of the migrants could

be carrying the disease. So new orders were

imposed, obliging state governments to

quarantine all incoming travellers. This

meant that often penniless and exhausted

migrants, who had already braved club-

wielding police enforcing the national cur-

few, then faced incarceration in hastily

converted shelters in such places as gov-

ernment schools.

Many will now remain stuck in such

places for weeks, while those who turned

back or stayed put in the cities where they

work face a precarious existence. Delhi’s

state government is making plans to sup-

ply free food to more than 1m people a day.

Other Asian cities are also coping with

jobless stay-behinds. Foreign workers who

are now stranded under Malaysia’s Move-

ment Control Order—many from Indone-

sia—complain that they are living in dan-

gerously crowded quarters and running

out of money. Some governments have act-

ed to give stay-behinds some support, but

this is unusual. Singapore, where migrants

make up 38% of the workforce, has offered

Migration and the virus

Under pressure

DELHI AND SINGAPORE

Lockdowns have sparked a stampede home

Asia

44 Magic in Myanmar

45 Thailand’s economy

45 A spat over US troops in Korea

46 Love in Indonesia

Also in this section

47 Banyan: Japan locks down