Author: Mukulika Banerjee
Publication: The Times of India
Date: December 3, 2007
Introduction: In rural Bengal, they deliver
but extract their pound of flesh
The Bengali word shontrash - a strong word
meaning not just fear or apprehension, but terror - was used to describe a
relatively peaceful time, such as the weeks before the 2001 assembly elections.
But since it appeared in the language press and described the mood in villages
rather than Kolkata, it was not really taken up for discussion. On the basis
of my experiences in two Muslim villages in Birbhum, let me unpack what a
term like shontrash might mean in everyday rural life in West Bengal.
A 'comrade' controls all life in an average
village. He usually carries with him the support of the sharecroppers and
daily wage labourers, to whom he collectively assigns the term 'gorib'. The
main reason for this support is that it is only under Left Front rule that
the gorib have gained a modicum of self-respect, a luxury no one in their
families had ever experienced before. It is now possible to ride a bicycle
or wear trousers without being ridiculed by members of wealthier castes; wages
are paid when the bargadar steps on the field rather than after a nerve-wracking
and humiliating wait at the end of the day; instead, it is the landowner who
now has to wait on tenterhooks at harvest time for the labour to bring in
the harvest as he is entirely dependant on the goodwill of the lower classes
and no one in the village goes hungry anymore. These changes have been effected
in the past 20 years or so and largely as a result of land redistribution
programmes and an increase in the daily wage.
The first signs of social equality have been
further bolstered by the political equality which elections afford when there
is an opportunity to exercise the fundamental right to vote.
But these achievements have come at a cost.
While reform programmes and policy changes were masterminded by the intellectuals
and leaders of the CPM, the execution of these changes was left largely to
the entrepreneurship of local comrades, a dense web of men who cover the state.
Members of the panchayat institutions are considered valuable but perceived
as ultimately subordinate to the real power of the comrades. In his sphere
of influence, the local comrade reigns, his word is law. Successful comrades
are those who are able to ingratiate themselves into every single village
matter.
Earlier, traditional distinctions would exist between kin-related matters
and those which concerned the village. This distinction has now been largely
eroded. Thus no marriage transaction for a young girl can be made without
the comrade's consent, brothers cannot settle inheritance issues without the
comrade's support and no one can even dream
of starting a new business without the comrade and his sons trying it out
first. As a result, mothers fear for their daughters' safety, brothers remain
estranged and an atmosphere of apprehension hangs over any initiative.
The comrade's lust, desire for control and
greed rules the lives of nearly a thousand people. Any challenge to this power
is met with disproportionate punishment. Access to the village lane can be
cut off to the offending member's household, a mysterious stampede of cows
can ruin a standing harvest, a girl can be raped as she walks home in the
dark or a young man is beaten up in front of his prospective in-laws. Ironically,
ministers, senior leaders in Kolkata and district capitals seem unaware of
these happenings. They express surprise, but electoral victory comes above
everything else.
The Left Front did win at every election.
After 30 years, it is no longer because people are forced to vote for them.
As the Election Commission demonstrated in 2006, elections held in a genuinely
free and fair environment only led to an improvement of the LF's performance.
The reason for these repeated victories was the result of a complex calculus
of consent among the voters, systematically and painstakingly created by a
hard-working party organisation.
The gorib vote for it because they genuinely
think that their fragile self-respect could be taken away under a Congress
regime, returning the village to the horrible old days of their fathers' humiliation.
The middle peasantry and upper castes vote for the LF in the hope that this
will restrain the local comrade from raising the minimum wage. Families vote
for the LF hoping that the comrade will allow them to resume negotiations
for their daughter's wedding. The calculus of consent is made complex by other
factors, which are less instrumental and more an appreciation of responsive
measures taken by the government after a scrutiny of the electorate undertaken
by party workers during elections.
What is happening in Nandigram today is the
logical conclusion of the above story. For anyone who has lived in a village
in West Bengal, the shontrash of its comrades is an everyday phenomenon. The
roar of motorcycles, the constant violence and threats, the decimation of
any nascent opposition party activities, the growing arrogance of party cadres
even in the face of party leadership are all thoroughly familiar. Electoral
victory has been a remarkable success for the Left Front in West Bengal. But
it has come at a cost, which is there to stay.
The writer is a reader in social anthropology,
University College, London.
