Social Stratification and Movement Trajectory in the Kudankulam Anti-nuclear Movement

Abstract

This article generates a framework for understanding the impact of socio-economic stratification within a social movement on the movement’s trajectory. Based on existing literature (particularly Varigonda, 2020), it hypothesizes that socio-economic stratification impacts a movement’s trajectory by influencing the politicization of state policy, the strength of a movement’s action repertoires and the openness of state input structures. This is then applied to a historical–comparative study of the anti-nuclear movement in Kudankulam, which was stratified into caste Hindu farmers and Christian fisherfolk. Through a comparison of three distinctive iterations of the movement—in the late 1980s, the mid-2000s and 2011–2012—the article generates a novel framework for analysing the impact of intra-movement stratification on its trajectory, proposing that politicization of state policy leads to inclusive mobilization when stratified communities perceive a significant adverse impact from the policy, and limited mobilization when they do not; that a movement’s action repertoires are strengthened when stratified communities perceive significant roles within the movement, and are weakened when they do not; and that state input structures are further opened for privileged communities while being closed for marginalized communities within a stratified movement.

Keywords

Caste Hindu Christian socio-economic stratification social movement trajectory anti-nuclear India

Introduction

This article aims to generate a systematic framework for analysing the impact of socio-economic stratification within social movements on the movements’ trajectory in the specific context of India. It does so through a historical case study of the anti-nuclear movement in Kudankulam in south India, drawing a comparison between three distinct iterations of the movement in the late 1980s, the mid-2000s and in 2011/12.

The trajectory of a social movement—the dependent variable in this study—encompasses its emergence, its growth and evolution, as well as its outcome, including also the state’s reaction to the movement. Socio-economic stratification within social movements—the independent variable in this study—refers to the distinct social and economic stratification present within the populations directly impacted by a state policy; and within the collective mobilizations which emerge from this population, against the state policy or action.

Social movements have primarily been theorized as emerging out of socially marginalized sections of society, in response to existing socio-economic stratification within the Indian polity (Chandhoke, 1995; Jayal, 2007; Levien, 2013; Oliver, 2017; Olzak, 2004; Tandon & Mohanty, 2003). In the Indian context, Omvedt (1993) and Oommen (2010) divide social movements into those spearheaded by marginalized social groups (such as Dalit or Muslim communities) against caste-based and Hindu majoritarian oppression, as well as those spearheaded by groups that are economically marginalized (such as fisherfolk or small farmers) against the state’s neoliberal development of agriculture, coastlines and rivers, and other public commons. While existing scholarship has extensively studied social movements as emerging in response to socio-economic stratification within the Indian polity, scholarship has insufficiently studied the role of socio-economic stratification within social movements. This article aims to fill this gap.

The next section generates an initial hypothesis, followed by an outline of the methodology used to generate an analytical framework. This is followed by an overview of the Kudankulam region and the subsequent comparative analysis of the three iterations of the anti-nuclear movement. Based on this, the article presents a novel analytical framework before it concludes.

Generating a Hypothesis

This section reviews the relatively limited scholarship on the effects of socio-economic stratification on social movement trajectory, based on which I put forth an initial hypothesis on how socio-economic stratification may impact social movement trajectories.

Scholarship on social movements in the Indian context has indeed studied socio-economic stratification within the population spearheading social movements, focusing on caste, class, tribe and other axes of stratification. Brass (1994) and Hasan (1994), for example, have pointed to the caste and class divisions existing within the ‘new farmers movements’ that emerged in the 1970s onwards. Similarly, in recent years, intra-movement stratification has reemerged as an important theme in the study of social movements in India, including within land rights movements (and within India’s new ‘land wars’ more generally, as outlined by Nielsen et al., 2020) and forest rights movements (Krishnan & Naga, 2017), and within protest movements against state-led and neoliberal development and special economic zones (e.g., Nielsen, 2015, 2018). The literature discussing intra-movement stratification also includes Mohanty’s (2003) work on the movement against the commercialization of the Chilika lake, Raman’s (2010) study of the agitation against a Coca Cola factory in Plachimada, as well as studies of movements against dams (Dwivedi, 2020), thermal plants (Varigonda, 2023) and nuclear plants (Khan, 2022; Varigonda, 2020). The large-scale farmers’ protest that erupted in India in 2020 brought these stratifications along caste, ethnic and economic class lines further to the fore (e.g., Lerche, 2021; Nielsen & Nilsen, 2022). Yet while these studies have cast important light on the workings and impact of intra-movement stratification, they have not produced wider theorizations of how socio-economic stratification impacts social movement trajectories.

Beyond the Indian context, Fisher and Kling (1993), Gitlin (1995) and Tarrow (2022) have argued that social stratification can give rise to identity-based factions within a movement, thereby weakening it. Weldon (2012), on the other hand, argues that identity politics can also strengthen a movement’s linkages, such as when minority identity groups within a movement have equitable representation. However, these arguments and inferences are speculative in nature and do not stem from in-depth empirical studies or general theory-building on social stratification and movement trajectories.

This article, hence, seeks to understand the conditions under which intra-movement stratification shapes a movement’s emergence, growth and specific outcomes. Given the lack of existing scholarship on the independent variable, this article relies on existing scholarship on social movement trajectory—the dependent variable—to generate an initial hypothesis on the possible impact of socio-economic stratification on movement trajectories.

Scholarship on Social Movement Trajectory

This article uses a framework, derived from my previous work, that explains social movement trajectory within the Indian context. This framework (Varigonda, 2020) posits that social movement trajectory is dependent upon a combination of three key variables: the politicization of state policy, the strength of a movement’s collective action repertoires and the openness of state input structures. These determinants are derived from established scholarship on social movement trajectory, as explained below. I have also used this framework to study other social movements in the Indian context, against state-led and neoliberal development (Varigonda, 2023), and in the study of identity-based social movements against religious majoritarianism (Varigonda, 2022a).

The politicization of state policy refers to the debate, criticism and scrutiny that a state policy or action is subjected to within society (Conrad, 1990; Jahn, 1992; Ylonen et al., 2017). In the Indian context, state policy or action is often politicized the most among those sections of society that perceive the state policy or action to be directly detrimental to material aspects of their lives such as their livelihood, health, safety and their living environment, or which further prejudice or discrimination against their social identity. Politicization of state policy leads to a polarization of the populace threatened by such policies, who react against them. This has been demonstrated in scholarship on the politicization of and mobilization against the Indian state’s developmental policies by peasants (Hardiman, 1976), the urban and rural poor (Sheth, 2004), factory workers (Nowak, 2009, pp. 310–311) and by farmers and fisherfolk adversely impacted by an impending nuclear or thermal power project (Varigonda, 2020, 2023).

Existing scholarship (Cohen & Arato, 1994; Rucht, 1990; Tarrow, 1994; Tilly, 2010) also demonstrates how the strength of the ‘action repertoires’—or repertoires of contention—of collective mobilization impacts social movement trajectory. A movement’s collective action repertoires comprise two distinct yet connected elements: First, the strength of the linkages between the various actors within the social movement, such as disparate civil society groups, diverse population groups, political parties and so on. Second, the mass mobilizations of these disparate actors through diverse modes of protest, or what Chowdhury (2024) refers to as the ‘tools, strategies, techniques, and processes of contestation’.

Strong collective action repertoires are indicative of what McAdam (1982) refers to as the ‘indigenous organizational strength’ of an oppositional movement, and they lead to a larger-scale (in terms of the extent of participation from society) and protracted movement. This is demonstrated in the Indian context by scholarship on the role of action repertoires in shaping movement trajectories in mobilizations such as the anti-dam movement (Chowdhury, 2014), the labour movement (Nair, 2009), anti-dispossession movements (Nilsen, 2012) and movements against developmental infrastructure (Varigonda, 2023).

Additionally, scholarship has identified another key determinant of the trajectory of oppositional movements: the openness of state input structures. State input structures comprise the various society-facing, autonomous political institutions and officials that constitute the state (Nordlinger, 1981), such as the central and state governments, political parties in parliament and legislatures, along with the bureaucratic-technocratic support institutions. Their ‘openness’ indicates the state’s ability to absorb dissenting views from society into policymaking. State input structures can be opened when important actors, such as political parties, operating within a decentralized state structure, ally with social movements (Kitschelt, 1986; McAdam, 1982). In the Indian context, Pedersen (2017) and Varigonda (2020, 2022a, 2023) have argued that influential political parties may ally with social movements against a state policy if the parties perceive that they can gain electorally by doing so. In addition, if movements are large-scale and protracted, political parties may ally with them if there exist ideological or identity-based affinities. Lastly, state input structures are also opened, albeit to a limited extent, when political institutions within the state structure acquiesce to limited demands emanating from a social movement in order to diffuse broader opposition to state policy (Ylonen et al., 2017). Conversely, state input structures become closed when no influential political institutions within the state ally with social movements, either because of a lack of ideological agreement or because no electoral gains can be derived from it. In such an environment, the state may often employ coercive and confrontational tactics to suppress social movements (Kitschelt, 1986). Thus, the relative openness of state input structures determines the state’s reaction to a social movement.

These three separate determinants of a social movement’s trajectory outlined above have seldom been adapted into a singular theorization.¹ Varigonda’s (2020) comparative study of anti-nuclear movements in India, however, demonstrates how the three determinants (politicization of state policy, the strength of a movement’s collective action repertoires and openness of state input structures) impact the trajectory of a social movement.

A Hypothesis

Building on the discussion above, this article proposes the following key determinants of a social movement’s trajectory: first, a politicization of state policy among the populace directly threatened by the policy leads to the emergence of collective mobilization; second, strong collective action repertoires lead to a larger-scale and protracted mobilization; and third, the relative openness of state input structures determines the state’s response to the social movement. Following from this, my initial hypothesis is that the impact of socio-economic stratification on movement trajectories can be discerned by their influence on the three key determinants, namely the politicization of state policy, the strength of collective action repertoires and the openness of state input structures. In the remainder of this article, I seek to develop this hypothesis into a systematic framework for analysing the impact of socio-economic stratification within a social movement on the movement’s trajectory. I do so via a case study from Kudankulam, to which I now turn.

Kudankulam: Methodology

Generating a framework can be done through a historical–comparative study of a single case over time (Dyer & Wilkins, 1991; Siggelkow, 2007; Yin, 2003). The social movement that is central to this article, and which emerged against a nuclear power project in Kudankulam, presents a unique case for studying the impact of socio-economic stratification on movement trajectories. First, the population in the Kudankulam region, which is the most affected by the nuclear project, is stratified both socially (caste Hindu and Christians) and economically (inland farmers and coastal fisherfolk).² Second, the movement emerged in three iterations in the late 1980s, the mid-2000s and in 2011–2012, with each phase displaying variance in the form, extent and influence of socio-economic stratification: in the late 1980s and mid-2000s, small-scale and relatively unstratified, more homogeneous movements emerged for brief periods, whereas in 2011–2012, we saw the emergence of a large-scale, more protracted movement that was also socio-economically stratified. Third, the Kudankulam anti-nuclear movement’s trajectory is minimally impacted by factors external to the three determinants identified above.³ These three dimensions render this a suitable case study, making the comparative study of its three iterations particularly fruitful for understanding the relationship between socio-economic stratification and social movement trajectory.

The primary mode of data collection has been through extensive free-flowing, open-ended interviews with residents of the Kudankulam and Idinthakarai villages, Church-affiliated activists, fisheries union members, anti-nuclear and environmental activists, as well as members of the state government and bureaucrats involved in civil nuclear policymaking. Field research was undertaken during 2010–2011 and 2016–2017, primarily in the Kudankulam region, Chennai, and other towns, including Nagercoil and Tuticorin. A total of around 20 interviews were conducted.

A Lay of the Land

The Kudankulam region is located along the southern coast of Tamil Nadu (see Figure 1). This region, spanning the towns of Kanniyakumari to Tuticorin, comprises a mixed population: inland farmers who are mostly caste Hindu, and coastal fisherfolk who are mostly Christian. Caste Hindus constitute the majority and Christians a minority. The Kudankulam region also comprises two villages, the eponymous Kudankulam village and Idinthakarai village. The Kudankulam village, the larger of the two, is inland. It comprises largely of inland farmers and small-scale landowners, many of whom—and similar to other inland villages along the southern coast—have diversified their livelihoods into other businesses, including power generation through wind turbines on their lands. These groups were thus relatively better off, and most of these farmers are caste Hindu (NPCIL, 2001). The Idinthakarai village, in contrast, is coastal. It is also smaller, a hamlet and comprises largely of coastal fisherfolk, many of whom are relatively economically poorer. Most of the fisherfolk are Catholic (http://tuticorindiocese.org/parish-idindakarai.htm).

It was from within this region’s mixed population that collective mobilization against a nuclear project emerged from the late 1980s.

The First Iteration of the Anti-nuclear Movement: The Late 1980s

In the late 1980s, the Indian government (then led by the Congress party) announced plans to construct a multi-reactor nuclear project in the Kudankulam region, in collaboration with the Soviet Union. The Tamil Nadu state government, headed at the time by the All India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (AIADMK), accorded strong support to this project. Indeed, AIADMK had, since the early 1980s, supported the establishment of a second nuclear power plant in Tamil Nadu (the first was in Kalpakkam) (Varigonda, 2020, pp. 86–87). The nuclear project was projected by the central and state governments as essential to electricity supply security—and thereby economic and industrial development—for Tamil Nadu. The state government acquired land (around 3,200 acres) from inland farmers in Kudankulam for the construction of the project.

During this period, opposition to the nuclear project emerged. The opposition was first spearheaded by leftist fisheries unions, such as the Tamil Nadu Fishworkers’ Union (TNFU) and the National Fishworkers’ Forum (NFF), in collaboration with various anti-nuclear and environmental activists, as well as activists against state-led and neoliberal development. Activists affiliated with fisheries unions and anti-nuclear activists spent several months explaining the deleterious effects of the nuclear project to the people of the Kudankulam region. They partnered with students, with activists affiliated with the Church and Hindu religious organizations, and with local political organizers, and organized skits and dramas, distributed pamphlets and went door-to-door campaigning. In this way, they politicized the nuclear project as detrimental to the health and safety of the surrounding population, and especially to the livelihoods of the fisherfolk, as effluent released by the reactors could increase the temperature of the coastal waters, leading to a drastic decline in the population of fish in the waters.⁴

The nuclear project was thus politicized primarily based on its impact on the economic livelihoods of coastal fisherfolk. This meant that most of the coastal fisherfolk of Idinthakarai, whose livelihoods were potentially undermined, became polarized against the nuclear project. In contrast, the inland farmers among the economically stratified populace within the Kudankulam region were not polarized against the nuclear project as they did not perceive a particular threat to their livelihoods. The collective mobilization that emerged out of this politicization was thus homogeneous, comprising primarily the mostly Christian coastal fisherfolk, and limited in scope insofar as caste Hindu farmers participated in much lower numbers. Owing to this homogeneity, the anti-nuclear movement was in this phase often described as a ‘fishermen’s movement’.

The mobilization was spearheaded by the fisherfolk of the Kudankulam region and the fisheries unions, and protests began as localized mass mobilizations in and around the Kudankulam region. Eventually, the TNFU and NFF mobilized fisherfolk from the southern coast of Tamil Nadu too, as well as fisherfolk from other parts of India, into a large-scale protest. While the nuclear project in Kudankulam still figured in the protests, the broader aim, however, soon became to protect the rights of small-scale fishing from commercialization, pollution and other state actions that could harm the livelihoods of coastal fisherfolk throughout the country, and the fisherfolk marched under the slogan ‘save water, save lives’. Evidently, the collective action repertoires of the local fisherfolk of the Kudankulam region were not strong enough to influence the national fisheries unions: These unions, and not the fisherfolk of the Kudankulam region, spearheaded the large-scale protest and under their leadership, the ‘anti-nuclear’ component was compartmentalized while protests zoomed in on the rights of fisherfolk more generally.

On 1 May 1989, fisherfolk from several parts of India converged with the fisherfolk of Tamil Nadu in Kanyakumari. The coastal fisherfolk of the Kudankulam region also participated in this protest that drew more than 20,000 participants. The Tamil Nadu state government, on its part, responded with violence as the police fired into the peaceful protests, killing four. Hundreds of participants were injured or arrested. This brutal response demonstrated a state input structure firmly closed to fisherfolk-led protests. In India, fishing is an economically marginalized livelihood, traditionally deprioritized by the state’s development model (Bardhan, 1988; Hasan, 2000). Most of the fisherfolk in Tamil Nadu are also from the socially marginalized Christian minority community. And, importantly, the anti-commercialization and anti-industrialization rhetoric and politics espoused by the fisherfolk were directly antithetical to the pro-industrialization ideology of the Tamil Nadu state government. These factors likely explain why state input structures were closed even to a large-scale collective mobilization with participation of fisherfolk from many parts of Tamil Nadu and the rest of India.

In the months following the crackdown, protests and rallies continued to be held in and around Kudankulam. During this period, for a brief moment, the inland farmers of Kudankulam also mobilized against the nuclear project. The nuclear power reactors in Kudankulam would require large amounts of water as coolant. The Nuclear Power Corporation of India Limited (NPCIL), the primary state-owned enterprise spearheading the nuclear project, had proposed two sources of water for the nuclear project: coastal waters from the sea, or water diverted from the Pechiparai dam, the mainstay of agriculture in the region. Diverting water from agriculture to the nuclear project would directly impact the livelihoods of the inland farmers, and so the project now adversely impacted the livelihoods of two key populations, namely farmers and fisherfolk. As inland farmers mobilized against the nuclear project, the movement grew considerably, now encompassing both caste Hindu inland farmers and Christian coastal fisherfolk.

In response to the growing movement participation of caste Hindu inland farmers, NPCIL rescinded the proposal for diverting water from the Pechiparai dam for the nuclear reactors. State input structures, in other words, opened up, albeit only to a limited extent, to accommodate the demands of the socio-economically relatively privileged caste Hindu inland farmers within the socio-economically stratified anti-nuclear movement. By doing so, the state succeeded in gradually weaning the inland farmers away from anti-nuclear mobilization. Soon, however, the movement was overtaken by world history: In 1991, the Soviet Union disintegrated, and the nuclear project, which was to be a collaboration between India and the Soviet Union, was suspended. With that, the anti-nuclear movement became dormant.

The Second Iteration of the Movement: The Mid-2000s

In 1998, the nuclear project in Kudankulam was revived, this time as a collaboration between the Indian and Russian governments. In 2002, spearheaded by NPCIL, the construction of the nuclear project began, with two nuclear reactors to be constructed initially. During this period, the Indian government was headed by the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)-led coalition, whereas the Tamil Nadu state government was headed by the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK). Both the BJP and DMK were ideologically pro-nuclear and pro-industrialization (Patibandla, 2009, p. 8).

The Indian government, the Tamil Nadu state government and NPCIL continued to position the nuclear project as an essential component to improve electricity supply security and to be a facilitator for greater industrial and commercial development. Additionally, they projected the nuclear project as a major source of employment for the surrounding population. Thus, the population in the Kudankulam region would stand to benefit directly from the plant’s commissioning, with both current and future livelihoods projected as growing more secure. The population in the Kudankulam region, in turn, expected thousands of jobs to emerge once the plant commenced operations, and during the early 2000s, most of them were positively disposed to the project.

This time, the politicization of the nuclear project did not lead to any large-scale polarization, and oppositional mobilization occurred on a much smaller scale, coming primarily from anti-nuclear and environmental activists and organizations, as well as from Church-affiliated activists. The anti-nuclear and environmental activists and organizations had emerged in the late 1990s, based out of Chennai as well as smaller towns near Kudankulam, such as Nagercoil. During this period, activists affiliated with the Catholic Church also gained influence in the region. They had supported the Catholic fisherfolk along the southern coast in different struggles against mining and, most famously, against the coastal pollution coming from the Sterlite copper smelting plant in Tuticorin. Church-affiliated activists also supported fisherfolk communities in their continued struggle against the sand mafia controlling the illegal sand mining along the coastline.

In the mid-2000s, NPCIL announced an expansion of the nuclear project, proposing to add two additional nuclear reactors. The central and state governments were mandated to conduct a public hearing as part of the Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) for the project. The public hearing is the sole legal means of interface between society and the state in the context of nuclear plant commissioning. It was scheduled to be conducted in late 2006.

The NPCIL’s EIA report mentioned the Pechiparai dam as a possible source of water to be used as coolant for the nuclear reactors (NPCIL, 2002). With the public hearing imminent, the possibility of diverting water away from the Pechiparai dam once again alarmed the inland farmers of Kudankulam, who relied on the dam for agriculture. It also alarmed the inland farmers outside of the Kudankulam region, as Pechiparai was a mainstay of agriculture for several inland villages. The nuclear project thus became, quite suddenly, extensively politicized among the inland farmers in Kudankulam and beyond.

However, this politicization did not extend to the coastal fisherfolk in Idinthakarai, who at this moment did not perceive the nuclear project as particularly detrimental to their livelihoods. Unlike in the late 1980s, the fisherfolk were not as concerned about the possible deterioration of coastal waters and fishing, and many believed that the project would bring modern jobs and economic development for the surrounding populations. As a result, the economic stratification within the populace in the Kudankulam region led to a limited politicization of the nuclear project: most of the inland farmers of Kudankulam became polarized against the project while most of the coastal fisherfolk of Idinthakarai did not.

A group of volunteers from among the inland farmers undertook door-to-door canvassing among the populations of Kudankulam village and several other neighbouring inland farming villages. All of these inland farming villages had a caste Hindu majority, and the inland farmers of Kudankulam forged collaborations with other surrounding inland villages. A collective mobilization against the nuclear project emerged out of this collaboration, supported by anti-nuclear activists and organizations, as well as by some of the fisherfolk in Idinthakarai. The movement that emerged was largely homogenous: It comprised of inland farmers who were mostly caste Hindu, while the coastal fisherfolk, who were mostly Christian, did not participate in any substantial manner.

The public hearing mentioned above was first scheduled for October 2006. The inland farmer-led movement conducted rallies around the Kudankulam region and in the villages around the venue of the public hearing. Their rallies grew in size and vociferousness, and in response, the state government eventually postponed the hearing. State bureaucrats would postpone the public hearing two more times because of the mass protests, until it was eventually held in July 2007. Once again, in the lead-up, the anti-nuclear movement conducted rallies around the Kudankulam region and in the villages around the venue. During the public hearing, state functionaries were accompanied by over a thousand police personnel in riot control gear. Around 800 members of the public were allowed inside the premises. Here, protesters raised slogans against the nuclear project in front of the state officials, while many of the people in attendance similarly expressed their opposition. A large crowd, reportedly numbering over a thousand people, held a simultaneous protest rally outside the venue.

Notwithstanding the large-scale protest by the anti-nuclear movement, the state bureaucracy and government declared the public hearing successfully completed. State input structures were, theoretically, open to popular opposition when expressed through these public hearings. But, in practice, the state treated the public hearing as a formality rather than as a plebiscite (see also Kaur, 2013, 2020, pp. 171–197; Nielsen, 2017). In that sense, the collective mobilization’s action repertoires were weakened by the singular focus on the state-mandated public hearings: the movement succeeded in forcefully registering its opposition to the nuclear plant during the public hearing but did not strategize the continuation of the protests beyond that.

Nonetheless, in response to the inland farmer-led protests, NPCIL announced that the additional nuclear reactors would not utilize waters from the Pechiparai dam. Instead, NPCIL would draw water from the sea, treat it in specially constructed desalination plants, and use it as coolant for the nuclear reactors. In its acquiescing to the demands of a homogeneous movement led by the socio-economically relatively privileged caste Hindu inland farmers, state input structures opened up, albeit to a limited extent, insofar as the state continued to support the nuclear project. Through its limited opening, the state succeeded in weaning the inland farmers away from the anti-nuclear mobilizations: With the livelihoods of the farmers no longer perceived to be in danger, inland farming communities gradually became less polarized against the nuclear project. In the aftermath of the state’s reassurance regarding the Pechiparai, and the completion of the public hearing, the anti-nuclear movement that was spearheaded primarily by the inland farmers of Kudankulam declined.

The Third Iteration of the Movement: 2011–2012

Throughout the late 2000s, the anti-nuclear movement remained largely dormant, limited to a few anti-nuclear activists and residents. By and large, the population viewed the nuclear project ambivalently: the project would likely provide desired jobs to their youth, but there would likely also be some negative impacts on their lives and traditional livelihoods. These latter concerns, however, were not enough to trigger collective mobilization.

On 11 March 2011, however, the Fukushima disaster took place in Japan. A tsunami on the Japanese coastline, combined with human error within the nuclear plant, led to a major nuclear accident, resulting in a large-scale evacuation of the surrounding population and the effective depopulation of the coastline around the Fukushima nuclear plant. In the following months, large-scale public protests against nuclear power took place around the world, including in India (Choudhury, 2012).

In the days following the Fukushima disaster, NPCIL conducted a ‘dry run’ in the nuclear plant in Kudankulam, which was nearing its final stages of construction. The purpose of the dry run was to simulate a disaster preparedness scenario that would ensure that the plant management and the surrounding population would evacuate quickly in the event of a Fukushima-like accident. However, NPCIL did not communicate effectively with the surrounding population with regard to the details of the disaster preparedness simulation. Thus, without warning, the population in the Kudankulam region woke up one March morning to blaring sounds emanating from the nuclear plant. Fearing the worst—after having, by then, been acquainted with the Fukushima disaster—tens of thousands of people evacuated their homes in panic. The Fukushima disaster, combined with the botched disaster simulation in Kudankulam, brought home the potential dangers of a nuclear accident to the surrounding populations, and the two incidents politicized the nuclear project on the basis of its perceived adverse impact on the lives and safety of the people. Since these health and safety concerns were widely shared across the populations in Kudankulam, both caste Hindu inland farmers and Christian coastal fisherfolk were significantly polarized against the nuclear project, regardless of their livelihoods or other social identities. In fact, for the first time, large numbers of caste Hindu inland farmers collaborated with large numbers of Christian fisherfolk in spearheading the mobilization. The movement also collaborated with key civil society groups, including Church-affiliated activists, anti-nuclear and environmental activists and leftist fisheries unions. The coastal fisherfolk, who were largely Christian, were closely associated with the Church and, since at least the mid-1990s, also with Church-affiliated activists who opposed state-led and neoliberal development that adversely impacted communities engaged in traditional livelihoods, particularly fisherfolk. These activists, as well as key anti-nuclear organizations such as the People’s Movement Against Nuclear Energy, became aligned more closely with coastal fisherfolk in the Kudankulam region. In addition, a large number of largely Christian fisherfolk from the southern coastline extended support to what many viewed as an issue that adversely impacted their counterparts in Kudankulam. Eventually, thousands of fisherfolk from across the southern coastline supported the fisherfolk of the Kudankulam region. Indeed, the role of the Church and Church-affiliated activists in galvanizing the fisherfolk against nuclear power expanded tremendously across the three iterations of the movement while the role of the fisheries unions declined considerably.

In August 2011, the localized protest rallies that were taking place intermittently culminated in a relay hunger strike. This mode of protest was collectively organized by anti-nuclear activists, Church-affiliated activists and the coastal fisherfolk of the Kudankulam region. The location for the hunger strike was the coastal fishing village of Idinthakarai, with the local church as the nucleus. The population of Idinthakarai would take turns to sit on a symbolic relay hunger strike. Local women were at the forefront of organizing the protest rally and participated in the hunger strike, and tens of thousands of mainly coastal fisherfolk from the southern coastline joined as well. The protest movement adhered strictly to the principles of nonviolence, and the fisherfolk, anti-nuclear activists and Church-affiliated activists invoked both Gandhi and Christ towards this end.

However, the heightened involvement of Christian fisherfolk in the movement and its closeness to the Church and Church-affiliated activists pushed the inland farmers of Kudankulam, who were caste Hindus, away from the movement’s core. Caste Hindu farmers resented the loss of leadership positions and the absence of the voice of their community, and also disliked the unconditional adherence to nonviolence. In place of Gandhi and Christ, some inland farmer leaders invoked Vishwamitra, a mythological Hindu warrior-sage that several of the caste Hindus of the region claimed descent from (one leader claimed that fighting was in ‘their blood’, and nonviolence unnatural to their community). Some left-leaning activists belonging to the fisheries unions also objected to the close collaboration with the Church and Church-affiliated activists. They too felt that their voice and leadership aspirations had been sidelined by the Church, insofar as the leftist ideology of the unions was no longer at the forefront of the protests. As a result, caste Hindu inland farmers collaborated with other activists—including those affiliated with fisheries unions—and began their own protest that unfolded alongside the relay hunger strike, in the form of a symbolic relay blockade before the entrance to the nuclear plant. In the initial months of the movement, then, socio-economic stratification led to a splintering of the anti-nuclear movement into two factions. However, this splintering did not give rise to any major internal rift. Rather, the two factions spearheaded their own protest autonomously, even as they continued to cooperate. The movement’s action repertoires were therefore strengthened considerably, owing to the autonomy of both factions and the greater diversity in modes of protest. Action repertoires were further strengthened by the participation of the major stratified communities within the Kudankulam region, as well as by the extensive participation of the Christian fisherfolk from beyond the region. Strong collective action repertoires, coupled with large-scale politicization of the nuclear project, therefore led to a protracted social movement with widespread extra-local support. Protest rallies were conducted in Kanyakumari, Tuticorin and several other towns and cities in Tamil Nadu, and the relay hunger strike and symbolic blockade continued for several months, well into early 2012. At the same time, and despite the support accorded by anti-nuclear and environmental activists and organizations throughout India who often visited the protest site in Idinthakarai, a sustained national or global network of solidarity did not emerge in support of the anti-nuclear movement, which remained largely localized and confined to the Kudankulam region.⁵

The reaction of NPCIL, the central government and the Tamil Nadu state government to the large-scale protest movement was initially conciliatory. In late 2011, the Tamil Nadu state government urged the central government to allay the fears of the anti-nuclear protesters in Kudankulam. But though it thus appeared to seek to address the movement’s concerns, the AIADMK-led state government did not withdraw its support for the nuclear project. During this period, the central government also held a series of meetings with representatives of the anti-nuclear movement, but the Congress-led central government similarly did not withdraw its support for the project. Thus, in response to the large-scale anti-nuclear movement, state input structures opened to a limited extent. This opening was, however, mostly an attempt to diffuse the protests rather than to negotiate to arrive at a compromise, much less to give in to the movement’s demands. When the representatives of the anti-nuclear movement refused to give up their protest, state structures soon closed again. And not only that, the Indian government started to project the anti-nuclear movement as a global Christian conspiracy seeking to destabilize civil nuclear development in India. In doing so, the Indian state tapped into pre-existing fears among the Hindu majority population of Christian missionaries working as agents to convert Hindus to Christianity. The involvement of the Catholic Church and Church-affiliated activists in the movement, as well as the large-scale participation of Christian fisherfolk, readily lent itself to such a conspiracy theory. A concerted smear campaign against the Church in Tamil Nadu followed. Hindu nationalist organizations, such as the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) and the Tamil Nadu–based Hindu Munnani Katchi, led this campaign, taking out protests and rallies against what they portrayed as a Christian-dominated anti-nuclear movement. The main opposition party in India at the time, the BJP, also endorsed this view of the anti-nuclear movement and, strikingly, neither of the two dominant parties in Tamil Nadu, the AIADMK and the DMK, opposed the anti-Christian smear campaign. On the contrary, the Tamil Nadu state government joined the central government in a systematic campaign of physical intimidation against the Catholic Church. Police threatened the Church with freezing of its bank accounts; the Church’s donations, particularly from overseas, were put under greater scrutiny; and individual priests and Church-affiliated activists were threatened by the police and intelligence agents.

The reaction of the state to the anti-nuclear movement demonstrates two key points. First, state input structures were largely closed to the anti-nuclear movement, as no major political party shared the anti-nuclear ideology of the protest movement. And second, state input structures were more firmly closed because the movement was also spearheaded by a minority religious identity (Christians) that was simultaneously a less privileged economic category (fisherfolk). The alleged ‘Christian hand’ within the protest was targeted by the state and used to discredit the anti-nuclear movement. In contrast, the caste Hindu inland farmers, and the caste Hindu identity itself, largely escaped a similar identity-based smear campaign.

The smear campaign was, however, only a prelude to brutal police action. In March 2012, the central government and the Tamil Nadu state government took steps to quell the protest movement through violent and concerted police action as police and paramilitary groups descended on the Kudankulam region. They first attacked the symbolic blockade that the caste Hindu inland farmers of the Kudankulam village put up before the nuclear plant. Having disbanded the blockade, the police then attacked the village. Houses and shops were vandalized as the residents engaged the police and paramilitary in hand-to-hand combat. Hundreds were injured and hundreds arrested.

After several days, the police and paramilitary groups descended on Idinthakarai as well.⁶ Here, too, houses and shops were vandalized and the site of the relay hunger strike demolished. The residents of Idinthakarai, in their thousands, left their village and staged a sit-in protest on the seashore. Police and paramilitary forces disbanded this protest, and here too, hundreds were injured and hundreds arrested. Most egregiously, police and paramilitary vandalized the Church in Idinthakarai—a symbol of faith for the Christian population. This act was, of course, fully consistent with the state’s months-long smear campaign against the anti-nuclear movement.

The police and paramilitary laid siege to the villages of Kudankulam and Idinthakarai for the next two months as they searched door-to-door for key representatives of the movement. During this period, they prevented the free entry of food and milk supplies and other essential goods. The police also charged over 7,000 residents on trumped-up charges of sedition, and thousands of residents were detained for several months. The Indian state’s targeting of the anti-nuclear movement was particularly brutal, much like the state’s response to other confrontational mass protests such as the anti-SEZ agitation in Nandigram.⁷ By late 2012, the anti-nuclear movement had diminished, and in late 2013, the first nuclear reactor in Kudankulam would commence operations.

Generating a Systematic Framework

Based on the three iterations of the anti-nuclear movement, this section expands upon the initial hypothesis to generate a framework for analysing how socio-economic stratification influences the politicization of state policy, the strength of collective action repertoires and the openness of state input structures—and thereby the social movement’s trajectory.

Socio-economic Stratification and Politicization of State Policy

For the most part during the late 1980s, the nuclear project was politicized based primarily on its adverse impact on coastal waters. As a result, only the coastal fisherfolk were polarized against the project, while the inland farmers were not. In the mid-2000s, when the project was politicized based on its adverse impact on the Pechiparai waters, only the inland fisherfolk were polarized against the project, while the coastal fisherfolk were not. Consequently, the politicization of the nuclear project among the socio-economically stratified populace of the Kudankulam region led to a homogeneous collective mobilization against the nuclear project both in the late 1980s (when the movement was spearheaded primarily by Christian fisherfolk and largely excluded caste Hindu farmers) and in the mid-2000s (when the movement was spearheaded primarily by caste Hindu farmers and largely excluded Christian fisherfolk).

In 2011–2012, in contrast, the nuclear project was politicized primarily based on its adverse impact on the safety of the surrounding populations. A nuclear accident would impact the entire surrounding populace regardless of socio-economic position. Consequently, the entire population in the Kudankulam region—caste Hindu farmers and coastal fisherfolk alike—were polarized against the nuclear project. This politicization led to a large-scale, socio-economically stratified mobilization.

The study of the Kudankulam movement corresponds with observations in the existing scholarship on the politicization of state policy by and within a socio-economically stratified population. Mohanty (2003), for example, details how the commercialization of the Chilika lake, which was politicized based on its adverse impact on the livelihoods of the surrounding populace, led both the surrounding farmers and fisherfolk (who depended on the lake for their livelihoods) to mobilize against it. Comparably, Krishnan and Naga (2017) detail how four distinct economically stratified communities, namely betel vine growers, daily wage labourers, pisciculturists and fishermen, succeeded in jointly mobilizing against mining projects in Niyamgiri. Nielsen (2018) demonstrates how, in the case of an anti-dispossession movement in West Bengal, everyday caste stratification and discrimination could be at least partially bridged as villagers mobilized across castes to protect their farmland. More recently, Lerche (2021) has argued that the threat posed by the introduction of new farm laws in 2020—which farmers believed would strip away the last remnants of government support to the agricultural sector—eventually brought together a socio-economically stratified population in a joint movement that comprised both landed and marginal farmers, Jat Sikhs of Punjab and Hindu Jats of Haryana, as well as Dalit labourers and Adivasis. Varigonda (2023) similarly details how the proposed thermal power plant in Sompeta, which was politicized based on its adverse impact on the Beela Lake, led both farmers and fisherfolk to mobilize against it. The findings from the Kudankulam movement can thereby be extrapolated to generalize the impact of socio-economic stratification on the politicization of state policy thus: The politicization of state policy within a socio-economically stratified population leads to an inclusive, large-scale collective mobilization when the major stratified communities perceive a significant adverse impact from the policy. And conversely, the politicization of state policy leads to an exclusionary, small-scale collective mobilization that excludes those stratified communities that do not perceive a significant adverse impact from the state policy.

Socio-economic Stratification and the Mobilization’s Action Repertoires

The collective mobilization that emerged in the late 1980s was spearheaded by the Christian fisherfolk of the Kudankulam region, who allied extensively with local and national fisheries unions whose members shared a socio-economic identity as fisherfolk. As the mass protests grew in scale, however, the anti-nuclear emphasis of the fisherfolk of Kudankulam became subsumed within the larger, nationwide concerns of the fisheries unions that led the movement’s large-scale mobilization. The Christian fisherfolk within Kudankulam did not on their own possess action repertoires strong enough to centre the nuclear project in a large-scale, nationwide fisherfolk-led protest.

The collective mobilization that emerged in the mid-2000s was, in contrast, spearheaded by the caste Hindu farmers of the Kudankulam region, who allied with other caste Hindu villages surrounding Kudankulam. However, the mobilization was limited to a singular mode of contestation, namely disrupting and protesting during the state-mandated public hearings. The caste Hindu farmers within Kudankulam and its surrounding areas did not on their own possess action repertoires strong enough to sustain a protracted movement outside of, and in the aftermath of, the public hearings.

The collective mobilization that emerged in 2011–2012 was spearheaded by both caste Hindu farmers and Christian fisherfolk in the Kudankulam region. The mobilization grew further in scale through extensive identity-based alliances: Christian fisherfolk allied with Church-affiliated activists, some fisheries unions and Christian fisherfolk from several other coastal villages outside of Kudankulam. Socio-economic stratification within the expanding mobilization, however, gave rise to an early crisis as tensions emerged between caste Hindu farmers and Christian fisherfolk over leadership, alliances, ideology and mode of protest, threatening to splinter the movement—an outcome that corresponds to arguments by Fisher and Kling (1993), Gitlin (1995) and Tarrow (2022) that social stratification may produce a potentially antagonistic form of identity politics that has the potential to splinter a movement. The two factions spearheaded parallel protests, each with an autonomous leadership, while also continuing to cooperate. This strategy, in fact, further strengthened collective action repertoires, as evident in large-scale, months-long collective mobilizations drawing on diverse modes of protest. This outcome resonates with findings from other studies (e.g., Nielsen, 2019; Weldon, 2012) that equitable representation of stratified communities within a mobilization leads to stronger action repertoires. The findings from the Kudankulam movement can thereby be extrapolated to generalize the impact of socio-economic stratification on the strength of a mobilization’s collective action repertoires thus: Socio-economic stratification strengthens the movement’s collective action repertoires when stratified communities perceive autonomous and significant roles within the movement and vice versa.

Socio-economic Stratification and State Input Structures

The two major political parties at the centre, the Congress and the BJP, which led the Indian government in various periods between the mid-1980s and 2011–2012, as well as the two major parties in Tamil Nadu, the DMK and AIADMK, had always been staunchly pro-nuclear. Thus, no influential political parties were ideologically aligned with the anti-nuclear movement. Furthermore, opposition to the nuclear plant was geographically limited. The inland farmers and coastal fisherfolk of the Kudankulam region opposed the plant as they perceived a direct adverse impact on their health and safety. Coastal fisherfolk outside the region supported the protests, owing to a socio-economic affinity with the coastal fisherfolk in Kudankulam. This limited geographical spread also limited the scale of state-wide electoral mobilization in favour of political parties that supported the anti-nuclear mobilization. State input structures, therefore, remained closed to the movement.

In the late 1980s, however, if only for a brief period, the nuclear project was politicized also because of its adverse impact on the Pechiparai waters. This resulted in a brief mobilization of caste Hindu farmers within a largely Christian fisherfolk-led movement. In response, state input structures opened partially, but solely to the demands of the relatively privileged caste Hindu farmers. This limited opening up of state input structures in turn succeeded in eroding the participation of caste Hindu farmers within the movement. A very similar dynamic would be seen in the mid-2000s when a homogeneous collective mobilization emerged, spearheaded by caste Hindu inland farmers and again triggered by the nuclear plant’s adverse impact on the Pechiparai waters. State input structures again opened up partially to the demands of the relatively privileged socio-economic segment of the movement. And again, NPCIL gave up on the Pechiparai waters, whereas neither NPCIL nor the state and central governments announced any suspension of the nuclear project. As in the late 1980s, such limited opening up of state input structures succeeded in diffusing the mobilization of caste Hindu inland farmers.

In contrast to these partial and accommodating openings, in 1989 the state had responded to the homogeneous mobilization in Kanyakumari spearheaded by the largely Christian and socio-economically marginalized fisherfolk with brutal police action. This observation is in consonance with the relatively limited scholarship on the response of the state to (homogeneous) opposition movements spearheaded by marginalized identities, such as Varigonda’s (2022a) study of the brutal response of the Indian state to a Muslim-led opposition movement against cow protection vigilantism, and Mahmudabad’s (2020) analysis of the Indian state’s brutal suppression of the Muslim-led anti-CAA/NRC protests in 2019–2020. In 2011–2012, the state responded to the more heterogeneous mobilization in Kudankulam by targeting the Christian segment of the movement through a concerted anti-Christian campaign and unprecedentedly brutal police violence. Here, state input structures were further closed and the state’s response focused largely on suppressing the mobilization. This too corresponds to other studies of socially heterogeneous movements. For instance, the recent protests against the farm laws referred to earlier included Punjabi Sikhs, along with other religious minorities, as well as large numbers of Hindus, particularly the influential Hindu Jats of Haryana and Uttar Pradesh. However, as Jodhka (2021) details, the Indian state targeted Punjabi Sikhs in particular in a concerted campaign, claiming that the Sikh-dominated movement merely represented the narrow interests of the rich farmers of Punjab, and that it was illicitly funded and driven by separatist Khalistanis and supported by foreign enemies of the nation.

The findings from the Kudankulam movement can thereby be extrapolated to generalize the impact of socio-economic stratifications on the openness of state input structures thus: State input structures open up further to relatively more privileged socio-economically stratified groups within a collective mobilization, whereas they close to collective mobilizations that are spearheaded by marginalized socio-economic groups.

Conclusion

Based on established scholarship on social movements (e.g., Chowdhury, 2014; Hardiman, 1976; Kitschelt, 1986; McAdam, 1982; Tarrow, 1994), I have previously developed a framework identifying three key determinants of social movement trajectory: the politicization of a state policy, the strength of the mobilization’s collective action repertoires and the openness of state input structures (Varigonda, 2020; 2022a, 2023). In this article, I have sought to expand this framework by focusing on how intra-movement stratification relates to and influences these determinants and, by extension, the trajectory of a social movement. Although existing social movement scholarship (e.g., Mohanty, 2003; Tarrow, 2022; Weldon, 2012) has examined the question of intra-movement stratification at some length, few studies have systematically theorized the effect of socio-economic stratification within a social movement. This article has sought to fill this gap through a historical–comparative study of the Kudankulam anti-nuclear movement, based on which I have proposed a framework for analysing the impact of socio-economic stratification on social movement trajectory. This framework can be summarized thus: Social movement trajectory is determined by three variables: the politicization of a state policy, the strength of the mobilization’s collective action repertoires and the openness of state input structures. A state policy, when politicized among a socio-economically stratified population, leads to an inclusive mobilization when the major stratified communities perceive a significant adverse impact from that policy. Conversely, politicization leads to limited mobilization that excludes those stratified communities that do not perceive a significant adverse impact from that policy. Further, socio-economic stratification strengthens a mobilization’s collective action repertoires when stratified communities perceive autonomous and significant roles within the movement. Conversely, stratification weakens the movement when stratified communities perceive unequitable representation within the movement. And, lastly, state input structures open further to relatively privileged stratified communities within a collective mobilization, whereas input structures are closed to mobilizations spearheaded by marginalized socio-economic communities.

The framework has been derived from an in-depth and context-specific case study where economic stratification delineates populations into urban middle classes, small landowning farmers, and landless fisherfolk, and where social stratification delineates populations into a caste Hindu majority and Christian, that is, religious, minority identities. Nonetheless, the framework can arguably be useful for understanding the trajectory of other social movements in India that are characterized by socio-economic stratification along comparable lines, such as the anti-nuclear movement in Jaitapur from 2009 onwards, comprising of Muslim fisherfolk and caste Hindu farmers (Unni, 2016), or the more recent farmers protests from 2020, comprising largely Sikh farmers in Punjab and Hindu farmers in Haryana (Moliner & Singh, 2024). It may also potentially shed light on the trajectory of socio-economically stratified movements beyond the Indian context, even if the configuration and dynamics of such stratification always need to be studied in their specific national and regional contexts.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

My gratitude to the two anonymous reviewers and to the editor, Kenneth Bo Nielsen, whose work on this paper has been crucial in shaping its final form. My gratitude also to Prof. Subhrata Mitra, my doctoral supervisor, in whose guidance my early framework emerged. Finally, to the Asia Research Institute (ARI) in the National University of Singapore (NUS), and Mr. Kishore Mahbubani, for whom I was working when I wrote the paper.

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author received no financial support for the research, authorship and/or publication of this article.

Notes

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