It was supposed to be a turning point. On June 20, 1996, the International Labour Organization adopted Convention 177, promising to pull home-based workers out of the shadows and put them on equal footing with factory-floor wage earners. Three decades later, ask any woman stitching garments in a Mumbai slum or rolling incense sticks in a Kolkata tenement what has changed. The answer: not much.
Millions, but invisible
India has an estimated 90 million home-based workers — a staggering number that may be a wild underestimate. Most are women. Most work in the so-called informal economy, stitching, weaving, packing, assembling, cooking, and assembling everything from electronics to papadums. They survive on piece-rate wages that often fall below the minimum. They have no written contracts, no sick leave, no maternity benefits, no safety nets. They are the invisible engine of global supply chains.
“Home-based workers are the backbone of India’s economy. But the backbone is bent, not straight.” — Renana Jhabvala, co-founder of SEWA
The gap between law and life
India hasn't even ratified Convention 177. The government has its own legislation — the 1996 Building and Other Construction Workers Act and the 2008 Unorganised Workers' Social Security Act — but implementation is a joke. Registration is bureaucratic quicksand. Benefits are a lottery. Even when schemes exist, most workers don't know about them, can't afford the paperwork, or fear retaliation from middlemen if they ask.
The pandemic should have been a wake-up call. Millions of home-based workers lost income overnight. Lockdowns made it impossible to deliver finished goods or collect raw materials. Yet the government's relief packages largely ignored them. They didn't qualify for business loans. They weren't on any employer's payroll. They fell through every crack.
Why it matters — and who profits
The global economy runs on the cheap labor of home-based workers. Big brands — apparel, home goods, electronics — outsource production to contractors who subcontract to agents who hand off work to women in their homes. The longer the chain, the thinner the wages. A worker might earn 10 rupees for a garment that sells for 2,000. That's not a market; that's exploitation.
Countries like Bangladesh, Vietnam, and even China have moved to formalize parts of their supply chains. India, stuck in a low-productivity, low-wage trap, hasn't. Why would it? The system works beautifully for middlemen and exporters. The workers are docile, dispersed, and desperate.
The fight isn't over
Unions like SEWA (Self-Employed Women’s Association) have been pushing for a national policy on home-based work for years. They want a registration system that works. They want minimum wage enforcement that actually reaches homes. They want social security — health, maternity, pension — that isn't tied to a formal employer. They want the government to ratify Convention 177, finally.
On the 30th anniversary, SEWA and its allies staged protests in Delhi, Ahmedabad, and Chennai. The demands are the same as a decade ago: legal recognition, equal treatment, and a real seat at the table. But the ruling party's response has been tepid. Home-based workers don't swing elections. They don't have lobbyists. They don't make campaign donations.
Convention 177 was a promise. Thirty years later, it's still a broken one. The women who keep India's economy humming from inside their homes deserve more than anniversary speeches. They deserve wages that don't beggar them. They deserve to be seen.
