Abstract
Bridegroom price is extracting a heavy toll on the poor in rural Telangana, Andhra Pradesh, India. Poor households are becoming indebted and losing assets to pay the increasing amounts demanded by grooms at the time of their daughters’ weddings. Bridegroom price is a relatively recent phenomenon in the area, first practiced amongst scheduled and backward caste groups less than two decades ago. This article draws upon practice theory and cultural neo-institutionalism to offer an alternative explanation for the emergence and persistence of bridegroom price as a time, space and socially specific institution. Using empirical material from in-depth qualitative interviews in two villages in Telangana, Andhra Pradesh in 2010, it suggests that bridegroom price emerged as a result of shifts in the subjectivities of low-caste men, and in particular the evaluation of the self in relation to the social whole. The article seeks to contribute to existing explanations for bridegroom price and dowry, while also arguing that theoretically informed approaches are necessary in order to develop effective measures to combat these institutions.
Introduction
A group of female labourers explained how bridegroom price was affecting their lives as they picked cotton. It was impossible to marry without it, they stated. This requirement has forced them to increase their levels of debt and continue hard, manual work in the fields. For others it had more serious implications: ‘It is even leading to deaths’; ‘we have to sell our lands’; ‘sometimes we have to commit suicide’. Bridegroom price was reflective of, and a contributor to, their entrapment in poverty. The women could see no end to bridegroom price, each expecting the amounts to continue to rise, making their situations even more difficult.
Although bridegroom price currently seems intractable, as recently as 20 years ago the rural poor of the area practiced bride-wealth (Prasad, 1994). Several of the elderly women picking cotton had received gifts from the groom’s family, but in the space of one generation, they all gave groom price to secure the marriage of their daughters. According to respondents and ethnographic texts (Eswarappa, 2007; Prasad, 1994; Rao, 1990), a shift occurred between 30 and 50 years ago among higher castes and 15 to 20 years among lower castes, in which the exchange of marriage prestations ceased to be in favour of the bride’s family, and is now heavily weighted against them. Bridegroom price has increased many-fold during this period, in the words of one respondent, doubling every year for at least the past five years. These two trends – the shift from bride-wealth to bridegroom price among lower castes and the inflation of dowry and bridegroom price – are not restricted to Andhra Pradesh. An All India Democratic Women’s Association (AIDWA) survey in 2003 provided evidence of the so-called ‘spread’ of dowry from the north to the south of India, and from higher caste groups to lower caste groups, tribal groups and other minorities, becoming what they called a ‘pan-Indian practice’ (Agnihotri, 2003).
The reasons why dowry and bridegroom price have emerged and persisted are therefore an academic puzzle with immense significance for millions of poor people. Women and girls are particularly affected, as dowry and bridegroom price result in female foeticide, domestic violence and murder, and general neglect of female children (Agnihotri, 2003; Palriwala, 2009). These consequences have resulted in a number of studies that have sought to explain the so-called spread of dowry, as well as efforts to eradicate it. This article seeks to contribute to this literature by drawing upon practice theory and cultural neo-institutional theory to treat bridegroom price and dowry as cases of institutional emergence, bricolage and change. I share the intentions of Bradley et al.’s (2009) edited collection Dowry: Bridging the Gap between Theory and Practice, in which the authors seek a theoretical approach to understand dowry in order to develop more sophisticated approaches to combat it.
This article draws upon empirical material collected in 2010 in two villages in Mahbubnagar and Nalgonda districts in the Telangana region in Andhra Pradesh, south India. The broader research project, of which this was a part, 1 collected life history narratives to examine how institutions mediate livelihoods. We conducted 49 in-depth interviews about livelihoods with men and women of different socio-economic groups through which the importance of bridegroom price in affecting livelihoods was identified. The topic formed part of 20 follow-up interviews with groups of labourers (mainly women) and former and current government officials. PhD theses dating between 1990 and 2007 provided an historical context, and informal conversations were an additional source of information. The intention is not to provide a definitive account of bridegroom price in the area, but to propose an alternative approach to examining marriage prestations with the hope that other scholars will find some resonance with their own work.
Existing Explanations for the ‘So-Called’ Spread of Dowry
A rich body of sociological and anthropological literature examines marriage prestations in various societies. Marriage prestations are the exchanges, gifts and payments between the bride’s family and the groom’s family at the time of marriage. Bride-wealth involves prestations from the bride’s to the groom’s family, while dowry involves prestations from the groom’s to the bride’s family. Although ‘dowry’ is a common term used across India, it captures a variety of practices that share some common features, but are nonetheless distinctive. According to Caplan (1984), dowry involves the transfer of goods such as household vessels, jewellery and clothing from the bride givers to the conjugal home. This dowry remains the property of the bride, although she may not retain control over it. This is analytically distinct from bridegroom price, which becomes alienated from the bride’s family, and from the bride herself. While each marriage may have both dowry and bridegroom price, to treat all marriage exchanges from the bride’s family to the groom’s as dowry is analytically incorrect and leads to false claims that the institution has ‘spread’.
Scholars offer various explanations as to why different societies give marriage prestations, and the role they play in ordering social relations. Structural functionalist approaches examine why dowry has emerged according to certain societal characteristics. Goody and Tambiah’s (1973) influential study sought to explain why bride-wealth was practiced in Africa, and dowry in north India. They found the explanation in the distinct agricultural systems that led to a relatively egalitarian society and a high value of women’s labour in Africa, and the inverse, a socially differentiated society in which women had a lesser role in agriculture in north India. Combined with patrilineal inheritance and patrilocal residence, dowry had two functions in north India. First, it was a form of pre-mortem inheritance, providing daughters with a share of the property and preventing future claims. Second, hypergamous marriages, in which brides married into higher status families, facilitated alliances, and enhanced the prestige of the bride givers.
Comaroff (1980), among others (Tambiah et al., 1989), have critiqued Goody and Tambiah (1973) for generalizing societies, agricultural practices and marriage prestations. Nonetheless, this structural functional approach has been influential in explanations as to the spread of dowry from the north to the south of India. The south previously practiced bride-wealth, a feature attributed to their marriage practices that included cross-cousin marriages, marriages between families of equal status, and the ongoing connections of the bride with her natal family. Upadhya (1990) and Heyer (1992) point to increasing social differentiation within groups, a reduction in cross-cousin marriages, and increasing wealth as factors for the practice of dowry becoming prevalent among higher castes from about 50 years ago (with regional variations). This has resulted in hypergamous marriages, and the desire to give daughters a share of the wealth: a trend particularly evident among the nouveau rich who also used dowry to compensate for a lack of social and cultural capital. These trends have only intensified over time. Greater availability of cash and new opportunities have increased intra-caste differentiation. The rural–urban divide in the market for grooms and the desirability of non-resident Indian grooms have added a new dimension to strategies of hypergamy which, according to Anderson (2003), among others, explains the massive inflation in dowry amounts in recent years. The increase in parents’ wealth has also purportedly led to daughters demanding their rightful share in the form of dowry (Rozario, 2009; Shenk, 2007).
Structural functional accounts draw attention to the need to locate practices within familial strategies of reproduction and status enhancement in changing material conditions. While such approaches have illuminated the reasons high-caste and high-class social groups give dowry, they need modification before they can be applied to the case of low-caste, low-class practices. Rarely do the poor gain from the giving of bridegroom price; rather than achieving higher status, it results in further impoverishment. The poor cannot afford a ‘good groom’, but their inability to achieve hypergamy does not detract from the inescapability of bridegroom price. Neither can the bride claim to be taking a share of the wealth, as the amounts far exceed a family’s resources and rarely does she retain control over it. In short, explanations need to be sought that explain why social groups who are seemingly devastated by bridegroom price have begun, and continue, to practice it.
A second set of explanations is based on econometric analysis to find statistical correlations that are used to explain decision making. Srinavasan and Bedi (2007) argue that a correlation between lower rates of domestic violence and dowry may explain women’s ongoing support for the practice, although the authors do not advocate the practice. Shenk (2007) argues that dowry plays an important function in increasing the quality of children (in terms of education and mortality), and therefore can be a positive practice. Numerous other studies examine dowry in terms of supply and demand. Dalmia and Lawrence (2005) revisit and reconfirm Caldwell et al.’s (1983) earlier conclusion that the age gap between men and women at the time of marriage results in a surplus of women of marriageable age, and consequently dowry to secure a groom. Similar studies (Dalmia and Lawrence, 2005; Nasrin, 2011) add additional attributes (such as height, education and age) to arrive at the ‘market price’ of a good groom.
Econometric analysis is useful to examine the factors that individual families consider when deciding whether to give bridegroom price and the amount they are willing to pay. They are less instructive, however, in explaining why the institution has emerged in the first place, and why it persists, despite the negative impacts it has on the poor in particular. Rational choice approaches to institutions aggregate individual decision making to explain the emergence of institutions through collective problem solving, in this case creating a ‘market’ to facilitate marriages. These explanations do not, however, explain why bridegroom price has replaced bride-wealth in this role. The ‘rationality’ of decisions also assumes ‘perfect’ information of supply and demand of grooms, and does not pay attention to the schemas and scripts that make decisions ‘rational’ in the first place.
A final set of studies seeks explanations in the wider socio-economic context. In particular, scholars and activists point to three factors: (1) the related conditions of capitalism, neo-liberalism, Westernization and consumerism; (2) patriarchy; and (3) Sanskritization. Srinavas (1989: 56) defines Sanskritization as ‘the process by which a “low” caste or tribe or other group takes over the customs, rituals, beliefs, ideology and style of life of a high, and in particular, a “twice-born” (dwija) caste’. Srinavas (1989) argues that the sharp increase in the emulation of the higher castes by the lower castes since independence has resulted in the disregarding of the lower caste practice of bride-wealth for higher caste practices of dowry. Other studies (Agnihotri, 2003; Palriwala, 2009; Rozario, 2009; Srinavasan and Lee, 2004) suggest that the socio-economic conditions of the post-liberal world have resulted in dowry being used to assert status and gain access to material goods. It is the combination of these contemporary conditions, alongside existing ideological legitimations of patriarchy, which they point to as explanations for dowry in its present form. Dowry arises from, and begets, women’s lower social status.
What is noteworthy about these approaches is the location of dowry and bridegroom price in cultural scripts and schemas. Palriwala (2009) integrates contemporary conditions and the continuation/resurgence of existing ideologies to provide a perceptive account of dowry, arguing:
The dowry system has received fresh life with the new religion of liberalization, reflecting contemporary consumerist desires. It has also been fuelled by the new orthodoxies of primordial identities in which cultural practices and markers of social groups are created or revived and sanctified as right. (2009: 167)
As ‘new religions’ reframe existing notions of status and values, it combines with the ongoing, and in some cases strengthening, of ideologies tied to particular identities. These transformations and continuations are reflected in changed practices to marriage prestations, making them a useful starting point for explanations of bridegroom price, while bridegroom price is a useful commentary on changing society. The challenge is to understand the mechanisms through which these cultural scripts and schemas transform existing institutionalized marriage practices, and why they take the form that they do. That is, it is not enough to identify the broader socio-cultural context as a factor: the task is to understand the processes through which it manifests in particular institutions.
While the extant literature suggests useful avenues to understand why societies give bridegroom price, I suggest that these can be advanced through attention to three aspects. First, much can be gained through an analysis of bridegroom price as an institution specific to a particular locale, at a particular moment in time, and practiced by a particular social group, rather than examining dowry as a ‘pan-Indian’ phenomenon. Examining bridegroom price as a space, time and socially specific institution, makes clearer the connections between bridegroom price and the specific socio-economic and cultural context. Second, the starting point of analysis should be the processes through which bridegroom price has emerged (in a particular form) and persists, rather than treating it as a ‘social reality’ to which individuals adjust. Econometric analysis is useful to understand the strategies of individual families in a social context in which bridegroom price is institutionalized, but leaves unanswered why it has become institutionalized in the first place. Finally, research needs to identify the mechanisms linking the broader socio-cultural environment to the institutionalization of particular practices. That is, what are the processes through which facets of contemporary life – consumer culture, caste and gender relations – manifest in bridegroom price?
A Cultural Neo-Institutional Approach to Bridegroom Price
This article argues that institutional theories offer new insights into bridegroom price, and are a useful accompaniment to the literature on marriage prestations. In particular cultural neo-institutionalism (or sociological institutionalism), which shares an intellectual heritage with practice theory and the work of Bourdieu (1990, 1977) and Giddens (1979), elucidates the processes through which certain practices become institutionalized, and why they persist despite (at times) negative consequences (DiMaggio and Powell, 1991). Cultural neo-institutionalism (and practice theory) is, however, open to the charge of concentrating on institutional equilibrium to the detriment of explanations of institutional change. Theoretical advancements have taken significant steps to overcome this limitation, examining the mechanisms of change to both understand institutional transformation, as well as in purposeful attempts to induce institutional change. This section outlines the relevance of cultural neo-institutionalism to understand why people practice bridegroom price, while the question of how this theoretical body can inform initiatives to reduce the practice is covered in the final section.
Cultural neo-institutional approaches draw attention to the cognitive scripts, symbols and myths that provide the frames of meaning that guide action (Hall and Taylor, 1996). In this school, institutions are the ‘guidelines for sensemaking [sic] and choosing meaningful actions’ (Scott, 1995: 44). They provide the cognitive frames through which behaviour is conceivable, and the taken-for-granted logic outside of which no possibilities can be conceived. The school has its intellectual roots in practice theory, and the work of Bourdieu (1977, 1990), Giddens (1979) and Sahlins (1981) in particular. Practice theory relates actors and human action to the broader social system or structure in ways that does not subsume one to the other (Ortner, 1984). Put simply, people are influenced by the structure – the unacknowledged conditions of action, while subsequent actions produce anew, and reactivate these structures (Giddens, 1979). Practice thereby becomes central to understanding the ‘system’ or structure, how it is produced and reproduced, as well as the ways in which it changes. Practices are not ad hoc responses, nor driven by rational interests, but rather conditioned by organizational and evaluative schemes, habitus, cosmological dramas and so on (Ortner, 1984). Cultural neo-institutionalism draws attention to the mental scripts and taken-for-granted truths of institutions that shape decision-making and govern the behaviour and interactions that reproduce these institutions over time (Clemens and Cook, 1999; DiMaggio and Powell, 1991).
The emphasis on institutional persistence and social reproduction makes conventional cultural neo-institutional approaches less useful, if not inadequate to explain institutional change and transformation (Campbell, 2004). Jessop (2001) critiques Giddens for the bracketing of structure and agency, in which he ignores one or the other in examining their duality. He convincingly argues instead for a strategic–relational approach, in which actors reflect on the current state of the system, and (re)orient their strategies and tactics accordingly. Specific structural configurations reinforce certain strategies and actions and discourage others, while also being reconstituted through strategic actions. This results in the potential for institutional reproduction, but also reconstitution:
actors not only engage in action within a given institutional matrix, but, in certain circumstances, can reflexively reconstitute institutions and their resulting matrix. Their capacity to do so depends both on the changing selectivities of given institutions and on their own changing opportunities to engage in strategic action. (Jessop, 2001: 1226)
To examine the potential or actual reconstitution of institutions thereby requires an understanding of how certain people perceive themselves, their identities and opportunities for strategic action within a set of structural configurations and the relative ability of them to act strategically. This has two implications. First, the way that consequent strategic actions reshape the set of structural configurations makes institutions pregnant with possibilities for change. Second, the actual reconstitution of institutions is spatially and temporally specific.
A strategic-relational approach invites investigation into the various elements that may disturb institutional reproduction through a straightforward structure/agency dialectic. Central among these are shifting subjectivities. Ortner (2006) aims to advance practice theory, primarily through greater attention to subjectivity, which she sees as the basis of agency. She notes that: ‘Agency is not some natural or originary will; it takes shape as specific desires and intentions within a matrix of subjectivity – of (culturally constituted) feelings, thoughts and meanings’ (2005: 34). Crucially, subjectivity is not static, but rather shaped and reshaped by experiences. It is the way that cultural formations shape and provoke subjectivity that can result in social change. Actors manoeuvring in the system, the constraints and dispositions, but also the intentional projects that people pursue, collectively have the potential to reproduce, transform or merely tweak the system. In this way, Ortner (2005, 2006) overcomes the emphasis on reproduction and stasis in practice theory, and enables analysis of institutional and cultural change. Subjectivities, formed and reworked within a shifting socio-cultural context, form the basis for reflexive strategic action. Drawing attention to subjectivities highlights how people relate differently to the same institution; various identities of age, gender, class, and so on, affect both the way the institution mediates lives, as well as the individual’s capacity to action change.
The reorganization of structural configuration and institutions is likewise influenced by the broader socio-cultural context in which it is embedded. Spatially and temporally specific institutions are embedded within broader institutional contexts and historical processes at multiple levels, including the global and national. This has two implications. First, ideas (and ideologies) are not spatially bound (Appadurai, 1996), travelling and translated in localized settings. This translation disrupts the reproduction of institutions (Meyer et al., 2009), as taken-for-granted truths may become questionable (Clemens and Cook, 1999), and ideas integrated into meaning contexts (Schmidt, 2008). This may not result in radical transformation, but rather ‘new ideas are combined with already existing institutional practices and, therefore, are translated into local practice in varying degrees’ (Campbell, 2004: 80). That is, the existing schemas of meaning, scripts and social relations will affect how ideas are put into practice and consequently reconstitutes institutions with a tendency towards evolutionary (slow) as opposed to radical change (Campbell, 2004; Cleaver, 2002). The ability for certain actors to strategically use ideas in actions that are counter to, or challenge institutional logics, depends on their differential ability to communicate these ideas (their discursive abilities; Schmidt, 2008).
The second implication of institutional embeddedness is that change occurs within an institutional context of multiplicity of institutions located at various scales. Clemens and Cook (1999) highlight the importance of this multiplicity for institutional change, as institutions are no longer perceived as inevitable. New institutions, including bureaucratic institutions intentionally established, such as decentralized governance, come with their own logics and scripts which may be in conflict with existing institutions. Cleaver (2002) highlights the tendency for this to result in institutional bricolage involving the ‘gathering and applying analogies and styles of thought already part of the existing institutions’ (2002: 15); new institutions come to resemble existing institutions and maintain the status quo. Alternatively, political entrepreneurs can use the multiplicity of institutions and their network connections to their advantage, instigating new institutional forms that further their interests (Clemens and Cook, 1999). Furthermore, as subjectivities are partially shaped through an actor’s engagement in various institutions, new institutions and attendant practices may provoke reflection on the self, resulting in new identities, expectations, behaviours and so on (see e.g. Agrawal, 2005). Reshaping of subjectivities can thereby leak into other institutionalized practices causing disruption, as the actors themselves have changed.
A cultural neo-institutional approach suggests several avenues of enquiry to examine the emergence of bridegroom price as an institution amongst the rural poor in rural Telangana. As noted, it is important to locate the emergence and persistence of bridegroom price within the recursive dialectic between structure and agency. The first avenue of enquiry therefore requires attention to the reshaping of actors’ subjectivities within a shifting socio-cultural context, and how consequent strategic behaviour reconstitutes institutions. The second avenue examines how different ideas have become translated in existing and new institutions, and why such ideas gained traction over others. The third avenue examines the effect of other institutions, and how these have recombined to result in institutional bricolages, and the reasons why one bricolage is created over another (Campbell, 2004). The next section uses these avenues of enquiry to identify the processes through which bridegroom price has emerged, why it has taken the form it has, and why it is currently seemingly intractable. The subsequent section will examine how cultural neo-institutionalism can contribute towards more effective approaches to combatting bridegroom price.
Bridegroom Price and Dowry in Two Villages in Telangana
The empirical material for this study was drawn from two villages in Telangana, Andhra Pradesh, India. Telanagana is a dry-land agricultural zone, marked by high social and economic differentiation. Rajampuram and Krishnanagar 2 have unequal land holdings, with many landless labourers, particularly among the lower castes. Caste is still an important identifier, and the population of scheduled castes (SC; a government designation that marks historical marginalization, also called ‘Dalit’ or ‘untouchables’) was between 16% and 17% in both villages (Government of India [GoI], 2001). Scheduled caste and backward caste (who are ritually higher than scheduled castes but still historically marginalized) generally have lower socio-economic indicators, and are the two categories that comprise what I label ‘low caste’. Reddy are the socially and economically dominant caste in both villages; all large farmers are Reddy, as are the majority of net employers of labourers.
Historically, dowry is a relatively new practice in the area, with ethnographic accounts observing that the Reddy community started to give dowry 30 to 40 years ago (Rao, 1990). At this time backward and scheduled castes mostly gave bride-wealth, 3 or a form of mutual exchanges in which the bride’s family usually received more than they gave. Ethnographic studies from villages in Telangana note that, in the early 1990s, a shift occurred in which bride-wealth (or volli) was accompanied by a transfer of money from the bride’s family to the groom’s family (Park, 1997; Prasad, 1994). According to these accounts, practices of marrying kin also declined during this period, as the groom’s family would seek exogamous marriages if kin could not pay a sufficient bridegroom price. Villagers in Rajampuram and Krishnanagar said that bridegroom price became widespread among low-caste people during the period between the mid-1990s to 2000. The amounts given had sharply increased in recent times, and most respondents did not foresee an end to this ongoing inflation.
Although the same word, katnam, was used for all practices that involved a transfer of goods or money from the bride’s family to the groom’s family, there are some important differences within the village. High-caste and economically wealthy respondents often presented katnam as a means for daughters to get a share of family wealth. For example, a male large landowner said that:
I have one daughter. I am going to give all my property to her. Even if I had one son, I would give her an equal share. Whether you call that dowry or a share of the property, I don’t know.
Wealthy respondents are less likely to present katnam as a compulsion, but rather the pressure to give is said to come from their own families and daughters. Several respondents linked katnam to an explicit demonstration of the ‘equality’ of sons and daughters, or else the feelings of love for their daughter and concern for their well-being. It was also reported that high-caste and wealthy villagers were less inclined to give cash, and giving property in the name of the daughter is common. These characteristics identify these practices as dowry, a form of pre-mortem inheritance that remains in the daughter’s name (though not necessarily control).
In contrast, practices among low-caste and poorer respondents are more accurately defined as bridegroom price. The amounts given are well above any share of the family property, and frequently land the family in debt. Katnam is generally given in cash and consumer items used by the groom and his family. Low-caste people were also more likely to suggest that they were compelled to give katnam, that it was a demand from the groom. As one landless woman labourer stated: ‘Nobody will marry without katnam. It does not matter if you are rich or poor, you have to give. The only thing is that the poor give less’. Katnam was seen as a burden:
I have three daughters and my neighbour just gave two lakh [US$4,050] in katnam. It has put an enormous pressure on me . . . To make their marriages, I will obviously have to go into debt . . . How will I pay it back, I will have to commit suicide. For how long will I be able to do this work, and repay lakhs and lakhs of loans? (Female SC labourer)
These people did not describe katnam as an expression of love or as a share of wealth, but necessary because marriage is impossible without it. That is not to say that katnam is divorced from feeling among lower caste, and many spoke of concern for their daughter’s well-being, sometimes in relation to violence. However, katnam was also explicitly linked to a girl’s low status and poor people did not talk about their equality within the family.
In highlighting these differences in the form and reasons for giving katnam, I am not suggesting that the practices of high-caste, wealthy families are unrelated to practices of low-caste poorer families, or that such practices are homogenous within groups, with no overlaps or crossovers. The important point is that the cultural scripts that legitimate katnam, and the perceived (or presented) norms that obligate families to give, differ across socio-economic groups. The legitimations and reasons that are available to explain dowry among wealthier groups are not applicable to bridegroom price among poorer groups. It is therefore unhelpful to treat all instances of katnam as the same institution, despite the linguistic lack of differentiation. Rather, katnam among low-caste families should be treated as a time, space and socially specific institution, requiring its own explanations as to its emergence and persistence.
Identity and Katnam
The cultural scripts that underpin katnam have repercussions for how individuals position themselves and each other in relation to the practice. It is important to note that, as marriage prestations are symbolic acts of social definition, the role and expectations that individuals have in relation to katnam also reflect their positioning of the self in relation to the social whole. The following account from a backward caste man exemplifies the explanations that men gave for katnam.
If my neighbour gets Rs.1 lakh [US$1,025] as katnam, I want more because my neighbour doesn’t have land, he is uneducated, he doesn’t work – if he can get Rs.1 lakh, then I am educated, I have land, I am doing a job, so how can I take only Rs.1.10? I want Rs.2 lakhs as katnam . . . Then somebody else who has five acres of land, government job will want Rs.5 lakhs.
Several points emerge from this quote. First, katnam is more explicitly a marker of the relative status of the individual groom vis-à-vis his peers, rather than marking the relative status of the families of bride givers and takers. This individualization of status is perhaps a result of the inter-generational mobility of men currently of marriageable age.
Second, and related to this, caste does not factor as an indicator of social worth. Instances of hypergamy through marrying a daughter into a higher caste were never part of the script presented about katnam in the village. Rather, social worth was ascribed to the attributes desirable in the post-reform economy – education qualifications and jobs – alongside existing markers such as land ownership. Likewise, the comparison of people who receive katnam was with the ‘neighbour’, not with people from other caste groups. No lower caste person legitimated katnam as appropriate because higher caste groups practiced it, or suggested that receiving katnam increased their caste status. Rather, katnam was a marker of high worth in relation to new markers of status in a social order in which caste was not (explicitly) a part. This is not to disregard caste as a factor, and as noted later, the precedent of higher caste practices, as well as the reshaping of low-caste subjectivities, is important to the explanation for bridegroom price.
To suggest that katnam merely reflects the social worth of an individual in today’s social schema overlooks how it also shapes it. As katnam is a symbol of value, a failure to ask for sufficient katnam is a declaration of poor social worth. Whether or not a man feels worthy of or entitled to katnam, his social position requires him to demand one, as one female labourer explained: ‘People will ask if there is a problem with him, some deficiency and that is why he is forced to accept such a low katnam’. Today, un- and under-employment of educated low-caste men is common, and one of the most pressing problems in the villages. Others have been unable to find higher-status jobs, yet they still demand katnam, as this female labourer explained: ‘a man who is in even a very rough job, he will accept at least a few thousands of rupees. He won’t marry without any katnam’. For men to receive katnam has become normalized; its absence a sign of deficiency. In this way, receiving or demanding katnam becomes part of the subjective experience of being a ‘normal’ man.
As men receive katnam as a marker of their social status, this status is in relation not only to other men, but also women. As noted, regardless of the failure to achieve a high status by way of land, education and jobs, men are still socially higher than women. One female agricultural labourer described this situation in relation to their low social worth, stating ‘Men say that he is working, driving a taxi or a jeep, and so he should get this much katnam. And he is still a man! . . . We have no value’. It is not always the case that katnam reinforces the low status of women. Ethnographic texts from the 1990s (Park, 1997) indicate that low-caste families sometimes gave dowry to prevent their daughter from enduring hard physical labour. This not only improved their well-being, but also their status and that of the family. Although women from Rajampuram and Krishnanagar indicated their desire to save a sufficient katnam to ensure their daughters avoided the same hardship they endured, a significant number declared that katnam was now divorced from the types of work women did.
Now, even if a woman brings 1 crore [US$200,000] into the family, she is still expected to wash the clothes of her husband. Now there is no value for women’s life . . . There has been no improvement in women’s lives
This indicates the extent to which the increase in men’s status through katnam is counter posed to women’s status.
An exploration of the reasons that low-caste people provide for giving and receiving katnam reveals the cultural scripts and social schemas that constitute the institution. Social worth is ascribed according to individual attributes in the markers of inter-generational progress – education, land, and jobs – and according to gender. Katnam reinforces as much as it reflects these markers. This includes giving more weight to achieved status, rather than ascribed markers of status such as caste. Katnam provokes certain subjectivities of men and women, including for men the positioning of the self amongst his peers according to modern markers of status. This creates a sense of entitlement or of inevitability, compelling people to give and receive katnam despite the knowledge of the problems it creates.
Emergence of Bridegroom Price among Lower Caste Poor Families
The identification of the cultural scripts and social schemas that constitute katnam are familiar to scholars of dowry that have pinpointed consumerism, intra-caste differentiation and patriarchy as factors in its ‘spread’ and inflation. Identification of these factors alone is insufficient, however, to explain why katnam has come to be practiced by a particular socio-economic group, at a particular point in history, and in a particular form. Questions remain as to why consumerism and the modern economy resulted in bridegroom price, rather than an escalation of bride-wealth, particularly as women have also had (slower) inter-generational progress in terms of education in particular. Why has patriarchy manifested in bridegroom price, when other practices, such as limiting women’s work outside the home, seem to be much less prevalent? In short, why did bride-wealth among lower-caste groups cease to be in a state of institutional equilibrium, transforming to reverse the direction of marriage prestations.
If we take the proposition that institutional change occurs alongside the provocation of new subjectivities, then a starting point is to examine shifts to identities and experiences. Two conditions have coincided with the shift from bride-wealth to bridegroom price. First, as mentioned earlier, inter-generational progress has meant that men of marrying age are better educated, have higher cash income, and have more job opportunities than their fathers. In other words, they are better positioned in the social hierarchy based on individual achieved status and the criteria of the new economy (education and jobs in industry and service). Women have also experienced generational progress, especially in education, but have been largely unable to take advantage of the new employment opportunities in the non-farm sector.
Second, caste mobilization has been a central feature of agrarian relations in rural Telangana over the past three decades. Da Corta and Venkateshwarlu’s (1999) study of labour relations reveals how government development programmes, reservations and new opportunities for employment have resulted in political consciousness, encouraging men to emancipate themselves from humiliating and low status agricultural labour. They observe that this emancipation was only possible through the ongoing and increasing participation of women in the agricultural labour force, and the delegation of debt obligations from men to women. They argue that men’s class struggle against their employers has come at the cost of women’s own struggle. These class struggles cannot be divorced from caste relations. Low-caste and high-caste respondents in Rajampuram and Krishnanagar noted how caste has become an illegitimate marker of social inferiority, and most said that the relevance of caste in ordering social relations had decreased markedly in the past 10 to 15 years. Occupational status and cleanliness (often tied to the type of work one performs) were instead presented as being more important. This means that, while men have largely escaped the ritual inferior status of low-caste, women, who remain agricultural labourers, have not.
These two conditions have thereby enhanced the status of men, while the status of women of the same class and caste has remained the same. To argue that bridegroom price has therefore emerged as men have a higher value and status than women misses the central point that such worth is not measured in relation to women, but in relation to other men. This article argues that bridegroom wealth is better understood as resulting from men’s experiences of higher status/social worth that have resulted in a repositioning of themselves in relation to the social whole. That is, these experiences provoked reflection and modification of low-caste men’s subjectivities. These reworked subjectivities were incommensurate with bride-wealth, while also demanding new avenues to be expressed symbolically.
The strategic–relational moment (Jessop, 2001) thus occurs when reflection from the viewpoint of shifted subjectivities results in strategic actions that gradually rework the institutional properties of marriage prestations. Two constraints on the form of consequent action are noteworthy. First, the actual form that these reworked institutional properties takes depends upon the existing institutional context. Institutions rarely, if ever, emerge independently, but rather they borrow the scripts and schemas of existing institutions in processes of institutional bricolages (Campbell, 2004; Cleaver, 2002). Bridegroom price merged existing low-caste practices of bride-wealth with high-caste practices of dowry. In this way, men’s higher status is asserted symbolically through the transfer of goods and wealth at the time of marriage, but without incorporating other aspects such as the amount given being commensurate with a share of family wealth, or remaining under the ownership of the bride.
Second, actors take strategic action in areas of perceived opportunities (Jessop, 2001). Although men had a higher status than their fathers, asserting this vis-à-vis other castes and socio-economic groups is difficult when they still are bound in relations of material dependency with them through labour and loans. Far easier are strategic actions that draw upon existing positions of relative strength, such as a man demanding bridegroom price from the bride’s family. Bridegroom price has also been facilitated by other contextual factors, most notably the increased availability of cash and loans through micro-credit and cashed-up money-lenders (see also Nasrin, 2011). Katnam in Telangana is, therefore, not strictly a case of Sanskritization and the spread of dowry (or institutional isomorphism), but is rather best understood as an institutional bricolage, one made possible through material conditions and necessary due to shifts in men’s subjectivities.
According to the respondents from Rajampuram and Krishnanagar, katnam is now inescapable, and does not appear to be weakening despite the devastating impacts it has on households. The persistence of katnam in its present form can be attributed to the dialectical nature of institutions and actors. Institutions emerge in particular times in particular places, in the process establishing the symbolic terrain, cognitive scripts, the frames of meaning that then guide action. They are durable, as they shape practices and subjectivities that reinforce them. This results in the persistence of the institution beyond the initial conditions in which it emerged. It follows that the conditions of caste-based mobilization and of rapid progress for lower-caste men may have been crucial for the emergence of katnam, but not necessarily sufficient to explain its ongoing persistence.
It is incorrect to suggest, however, that katnam is ‘taken for granted’ in the locality. Although women acknowledge that katnam reflects their low status, interviews suggest that they had not internalized their low social worth. Further, men also suffer from katnam, often facing the burden of paying large amounts through loss of assets or entering into debt (although women amongst labouring households are often primary contributors to katnam). Reflection has thus far not led to revision, however, as people expressed that they were helpless to change the situation. For example, one female labourer stated, ‘We are born in this country, and so we must give katnam’; while a backward-caste man said ‘We question but what we can do we are weak’. These responses indicate the perception that the elites set the rules, and that the poor and marginalized are powerless to challenge these norms. The key to abolishing bridegroom price arises from challenging these presumptions.
Conclusion
This article has used observations about the temporal, spatial and socially specific institution of bridegroom price in rural Telangana among low-caste groups to make several arguments that hold validity more generally. First, a more theoretically informed approach to institutions is required to understand practices of bridegroom price and dowry, their inflation, and how they can be ameliorated. While this article has concentrated on cultural neo-institutionalism, other schools of institutional theory, in particular historical comparative approaches, may yield additional insights. Second, attention to cultural schemas and complex subjectivities can illuminate previously unrecognized factors in the emergence and persistence of institutions, as well as unconsidered avenues for change. My interpretations of the accounts of villagers revealed how shifts to meanings and identities associated with caste and inter-generational progress manifested in bridegroom price as a means to symbolically assert low-caste men’s status. I do not suggest that this is the only factor, or indeed only interpretation of villager accounts, but I offer it as an additional lens to understand bridegroom price.
Finally, contextual factors and historical processes that have contributed to bridegroom price are specific to a given time and place, and the practices are particular to certain groups. This is not to suggest that nothing can be gained from generalizations about marriage prestations. Rather, comparisons of instances of institutional change in relation to marriage prestations can help in mid-range theory development, and the understanding of historical processes that occur at the local, national and global level (Campbell, 2004). Such comparative exercises will benefit from attention to differences and specificities in identifying particular institutions for comparison. This is an area of importance for future research.
Theoretical insights into bridegroom price can inform more appropriate means to combat it. Recent theoretical developments in institutional theory (Campbell, 2004; Fligstein, 2001; Schmidt, 2008) indicate three lessons for purposeful institutional change. The first of these is the importance of ideas. Schmidt (2008: 304) advocates a more dynamic view of institutional change, ‘in which ideas and discourse overcome obstacles that the . . . more equilibrium focused and static older institutionalisms posit as insurmountable’. Ideas penetrate meaning contexts, with the potential to reshape subjectivities and cultural institutions. Second, in order for ideas to result in change, they need to be salient, commensurate with existing schemas. Ideas that clash with taken-for-granted truths are easily discarded. Third, the communication of ideas needs to be persuasive, by credible people.
This article argues that initiatives to reduce the prevalence of bridegroom price should consider its emergence as a particular institutional bricolage. An understanding of this can help identify those ideas and perspectives that can act as entry points to present arguments that have salience amongst actors. In the case study presented, this would involve comparing lower caste mobilization and desires for social mobility with the material reality that bridegroom price keeps people poor and diminishes their social status. Ample evidence exists of the link between bridegroom price and persistent and widening inequalities, particularly as the poor often have no option but to rely on rich money lenders. The ‘idea’ to communicate is that this not only affects individual households, but maintains the social and economic power of the elites; the symbolic assertion of high individual status comes at the cost of persistent low-class status. Declining or not demanding bridegroom price then becomes a political act of caste/class assertion. Caste and political leaders have a role in communicating this idea, and non-governmental organizations, feminist activists and the state could benefit from alliances with them.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
This research was made possible through an Endeavour Research Fellowship from the Department of Education Employment and Workplace Relations, Australian government, and additional funding from The Australian Centre for International Agriculture Research. My thanks to Surekha, Sushma and Murthy for their excellent support in the field, and Chiranjeevi at Livelihoods and Natural Resource Management Institute, Hyderabad, for logistical support and intellectual stimulation. This article was presented at the Contemporary Culture and Society Seminar Series at the University of Melbourne. My thanks goes to the participants of that seminar for their useful feedback. I am also grateful to Silva Larson and Aysha Fleming at CSIRO for their insightful comments on an earlier draft.
