Abstract
This paper deals with the capitalocentrism of political economy discourses and diverse forms of collective economic practices in indigenous communities as bulwark against the hegemony that capitalocentrism creates. It refers to some important cooperative experiments across the world and examines in detail the collective customary practices of the Rabhas, an indigenous community of Assam. Being a community that historically revolved around the collective, much of its politico-economic autonomy and customary practices were interrupted by colonial occupation. The community struggles to keep many of its customary community practices alive and, in the process, has creatively adapted them into many modern institutions.
— ‘A politics of collective action involves conscious and combined efforts to build a new kind of economic reality. It can be engaged in here and now, in any place or context.’ (Gibson-Graham, 2006, p. xxxvi)
— ‘The most radical tendencies have always championed the intrinsic value of human beings, the importance of political organising by workers, and the need to overcome capitalism and not be limited to operating within its rules and logic.’ (Reyes & Harnecker, 2013, p. 33)
Introduction
The capitalist system of production and the associated relations have dominated not only the actual space of the economy but also the discourse of what constitutes that space. The assumed centrality and dominance of this system or the hegemony of the capitalist discourses, as well as the progressive forces associated with it, render the particularities and peculiarities of economic practices—the local sites of the economy—redundant. The calculative profit-maximising relations subvert all humane social relations. ‘Capitalocentric discourse condenses economic difference, fusing the variety of noncapitalist economic activities into a unity in which meaning is anchored to capitalist identity’ (Graham, 2006, p. 56). The projected universality and inevitability of capitalism eliminates the possibility and even the probability of different forms of economic existences. The term ‘hegemony’ has been used in this paper not simply as a cursor to the superstructural aspects of the society but to underline the capitalocentrism of both academic discourses and socio-economic practices that preclude the existence of anything outside this system. Such a dominance of a supposedly unified, all-encompassing perspective creates a ‘hegemony’ of thought and practice, including the very production process and relations, which leaves no agency for the marginalised. This paper attempts to go beyond this universality and hegemony of the ‘capitalist economy’ and to engage with a more constitutive and open space where diversities exist, not as ‘alternatives’ or ‘others’, but as multiple forms of existence.
A cooperative economy is one such form. Cooperatives exist in different forms, but they together put forward the spirit of the collective. ‘The value of cooperatives, therefore, lies in the nature of their everyday practice, in the social relations of production established among their members: those of associated workers and not wage workers’ (Harnecker, 2013, p. 5). The cooperative spirit predates 20th-century socialism and is rooted in the community (Bennett, 2014, p. 63). Cooperatives do precisely what a counter-hegemonic language of economics is supposed to do:
It creates a new discourse of production by constituting relations that provide more egalitarian and inclusive engagements within the economic space. Since a cooperative emphasises people over profit, the most successful ones are those that have emerged from within the customary practices of various societies and communities. This paper further argues that cooperatives growing from within the traditional collective/community economies are more likely to establish a successful counter-hegemonic discourse of the economy.
Amidst the labyrinth of different economic aggressions, one primary act of colonial administrations around the world was to comprehend the diverse existences through anthropological, sociological, historical, political and economic studies. These academic endeavours inhered conscious and deliberate attempts to reconfigure indigenous socio-economic practices to fit them into the capitalist framework. ‘The construction of historical capitalism has involved, as we all know, this steady diminution, even total elimination, of the small community structures’ (Wallerstein, 1983, p. 101). ‘Capitalism’s dominance overshadows other possible, existing forms of production that are always already present, thus pushing the heterogeneity that inheres in the economy to the background’ (Sanyal, 2007, p. 4). ‘Diverse subject positions are reduced to manifestations of a single position; the plurality of differences is either reduced or rejected as contingent; the sense of the present is revealed through its location in an a priori succession of stages’ (Laclau & Mouffe, 1985, p. 21). Neeladri Bhattacharya’s (2018) The Great Agrarian Conquest is a comprehensive and nuanced study of such developments in Punjab.
Therefore, this paper argues that a counter-hegemonic language of economic diversity must begin by reclaiming the distinctiveness of such indigenous, cultural, customary diverse economic practices. This paper is divided into three sections. The first section deals with the space of community economy as a form of socio-economic existence different from that of capitalism. The second section presents a discussion on cooperatives as a viable form of community economy and refers to some successful cooperative experiments worldwide to substantiate that collective and community economies provide meaningful ways to resist capitalist appropriation. As such, it cites Mondragon, Mararikulam, South Korean, Danish, Nicaraguan and Brazilian experiments as cursory references. The third section presents a case study of the Rabhas, an indigenous community of Assam, and their customary practices based on the author’s fieldwork with the community.
Community and Diverse Economies: Challenging Capitalocentrism
Economy, in both Marxist and Liberal paradigms, has been portrayed as an independent fundamental sphere whose sanctity is considered to be a theoretical given. Theoretical arguments of this paper are based on the literature produced in the past couple of decades that goes beyond both traditional Liberal and Marxist readings. Some of them are Gibson-Graham (1996, 2006), Sanyal (2007), Nigam (2010), Laclau and Mouffe (1985), Mitchell (2000, 2005), in some way Althusser and Balibar (1970), Balibar and Wallerstein (1991), Goody (2004), Kaviraj (2005), to name a few. This paper iterates that even as capitalism’s grasp reaches the nooks and corners of the world, political economic institutions, practices and social relations that function outside the capitalocentric logic do exist. These humane, social, collective forms not only give us an outside to capitalocentrism but reconstitute the economic space as a heterogeneous and diverse realm.
Challenging capitalist hegemony begins with constituting a new economic space with socialised, collectivised, non-essentialised forms of relations that are specific to their contexts. Gibson-Graham called this the ‘discourse of community economy’ (2006), ‘the language of diverse economy’ (1996), where collective and social ties of interdependence and mutual coexistence replace atomistic, self-interested relations. Ideas/practices such as community economy or diverse economy provide inroads into opening up the economic space for numerous indigenous cultures and their customary, traditional, cooperative, collective practices that have otherwise been dismissed as ‘non-economic’ or outside economy. For instance, the aggression of the colonial discourse is reflected, among other things, in the near-disappearance of the idea and practice of ‘commons’ from socio-economic spheres.
The expropriation of the commons that fuelled Western industrialisation involved private theft of common lands, restriction of access to resources and culturally meaningful sites, and destruction of traditional and agricultural livelihoods. The success of this expropriation is reflected in the almost total disappearance of the term “commons” from mainstream public discourse in the west. (Gibson-Graham, 2006, p. 188)
Any attempt at going beyond the fixed perceptions of what constitutes the economy needs an open and diverse space. Such endeavours should be articulated around three necessary aspects. The first aspect concerns the constitutive nature of such spaces, which must be essentially heterogeneous. To move beyond the capitalist logic of singularity, this reconstituted space must be a realm of unfixity and openness. It must be a space that recognises and includes a multitude of economic practices and realities.
Anything but a blueprint, it is an unmapped and uncertain terrain that calls forth exploratory conversation and political/ethical acts of decision. The “emptiness” of the community economy, which awaits filling up by collective actions in place, is what distinguishes the project of building community economies from the related and more familiar project of economic development. (Gibson-Graham, 2006, p. 166)
The second aspect is the inherently contextual nature of the new discursive economy. Challenges to a hegemonic capitalist discourse cannot be in other forms of uniform universal ideas or practices. A diverse community economy centred around people and their well-being is built from the inherent differences in customary and indigenous practices. Hence, a reframed economy calls for a multitude of answers and a multitude of practices, arrangements, endeavours and relations. Any inclusive economic space must recognise the embedded nature of these practices. The genesis of a social, collective, inclusive economy lies in this very discursive and distinctive economic space.
The third and corollary aspect argues that in defying capitalocentrism, these experiments must categorically steer clear from assimilation into the larger capitalist discourse of ‘incubator capitalism’ (Gibson-Graham, 2006) and thereby becoming the ‘other’ or ‘non’ of the real economy. Gibson-Graham argued that by explicitly highlighting the local, small, experimental nature of the new community economies, these discourses often translate the resistances into a marginal ‘other’ within the very economic space and discourse that they were meant to challenge.
Despite vast differences within the field of community economic development, it seems that when “community” and “economy” are put together, the power, expansiveness and universality of the latter are compromised and constrained, rendered as face-to-face, human, small-scale, caring and above all local, the community economy is necessarily positioned as “other” to the so-called “real economy” of international markets, competitive dynamics, and agglomerative tendencies that operate at global scale. (Gibson-Graham, 2006, p. 86)
Therefore, community economy endeavours must constantly reiterate their diversity as opposed to commonality; solidarity/sociality/collectivity as opposed to competition/atomism/individualism; and resistance/challenge as opposed to marginalisation/assimilation.
The next section presents an engagement with cooperatives as a form of collective economic space.
Cooperatives: One Form of Community Economy
‘Exploitation, marginalisation, and alienation inherent to the capitalist system originate and aggravate problems that affect everyone and that can only be solved through collective action. Cooperatives are one of the tools for that.’ (Reyes & Harnecker, 2013, p. 6)
This section deals with cooperative forces as a major challenge to capitalocentrism. The primary argument is that building cooperatives embedded in local and indigenous practices provides a strong ground to reframe the economy around ethics of care, interdependence, solidarity and collectivity and thereby to build an immediate, grounded challenge to the hegemonic capitalist discourses. It begins with a general discussion on cooperatives, followed by an engagement with the collective customary practices of the Rabhas of Assam.
Indigenous communities have housed cooperative socio-economic practices for a long time. However, the first modern cooperatives emerged in the late-18th-century England in the aftermath of the Industrial Revolution when its costs were begun to be borne by common people. ‘The earliest cooperatives were first formed as cultural, educational and journalistic institutions that attempted to instruct workers and ease the burden of misery imposed on them by a capitalist society’ (Reyes & Harnecker, 2013, p. 30). It was only in February 1819 that a major development took place when English tobacco workers on strike decided to organise production themselves. ‘For the first time, workers consciously took over their factories and began to produce without bosses’ (Lorenzo, 2013, p. 68). In 1824, Robert Owen’s ‘New Harmony’ project gave a vigorous boost to the cooperative movement. Although the project was abandoned by 1827, his efforts took the cooperative movement to great heights. Lorenzo (2013) mentioned that cooperatives in England grew from three to five hundred between 1830 and 1832. In 1844, the first successful cooperative officially came into existence when ‘28 weavers from a cotton-thread factory in the working-class district of Rochdale, Manchester’ (Reyes & Harnecker, 2013, p. 31) came together to form the Rochdale Society of Equitable Pioneers or the Rochdale Pioneers.
This first generation of cooperatives led to many cooperative endeavours in the subsequent years. However, a new surge of collective/community/diverse economic experiments in the past few decades has begun to emerge with new vigour in different parts of the world, especially around indigenous practices. Almost one billion people are now affiliated with cooperatives worldwide, as estimated by the International Cooperative Alliance (ICA) (Satgar, 2007). A discussion on cooperatives as a form of the community economy is presented below.
Cooperatives: A General Discussion
Cooperatives exist in different forms, natures and structures across the world, and this diversity is an essential part of their success in challenging the capitalocentric economic space. Against the imposed homogeneity and uniformity of the capitalist system, community economies, including cooperatives, are marked and distinguished for their rootedness in indigenous customary practices. The following discussion highlights some important aspects.
Firstly, it is impertinent to highlight the essentially social nature of cooperatives. They are associations that are formed ‘to fulfil common economic, social, and/or cultural needs and aspirations by means of a jointly owned, democratically controlled, autonomous, and open enterprise… A cooperative is simultaneously an association and an enterprise in which the associative and social dimension guides its operation’ (Reyes & Harnecker, 2013, p. 27). It is important that cooperatives are spaces with people, not profit, as their primary concern and are enterprises ‘of persons and not capital’. They are outcomes of peoples’ efforts: first recognising the common nature of the problems and then deciding to work collectively to solve them. ‘The collective thinking and democratic decision-making process in cooperatives enable members to participate voluntarily in the problem identification, generation of idea, piloting the idea and eventual problem-solving’ (Rajasekhar et al., 2020, p. 5). These collective and democratic efforts provide meaningful ways ‘to overcome the heavy historic burden of the market, its irrationality, and the subjective conditions it generates and reproduces’ (Gambina & Roffinelli, 2013, p. 52). El-Youssef and Herbert (2014) indicated that cooperatives provide a context for people to actively change things on the ground directly and imagine a different form of development, one with ‘equality and equity’. According to Baviskar (2007), coming together through cooperatives is the only way people could survive the hegemonic institutions of capitalism.
Secondly, cooperatives must inhere self-management and democratic autonomy. Harnecker proposed that
What characterises a cooperative is not the legal ownership of the means of production by the collective or the group of people who make up the cooperative, but the fact that the decisions about their utilisation are made collectively by all members… It is a concrete form of self-management and the exercise of popular sovereignty, although limited to the cooperative’s collective. (Harnecker, 2013, p. 6)
Satgar (2007) reiterated the self-management and democratic aspects of cooperatives.
Essentially, cooperatives are member-owned and democratically controlled institutions. They are not-for-profit in the sense that voting in a cooperative is not based on the number of shares owned, but instead on the universal principle of one member, one vote. While cooperatives make a profit, it is subjected to the logic of member needs—the essence of the cooperative. (Satgar, 2007, p. 61)
Besides the primacy given to common needs and strategies, cooperatives must also be inherently autonomous, self-managed and democratic.
Thirdly, cooperatives must challenge the exploitative conditions of wage labour and restructure the concept of labour. By producing a social surplus that is for everyone to use and take part in cooperatives change the nature of labour. ‘In a diverse community economy, it is the capacity to produce social surplus in a variety of forms and not just surplus value, that is of interest, as it is this surplus that can be used to replenish and expand the commons and the productive base’ (Gibson-Graham, 2006, p. 95). The holistic, integrative and associative nature of the structure and functioning of cooperatives breaks the isolated and fixed nature of the economic space. Henehan (2011) also underscored the role that various agencies have in the general cooperative development in any context.
Finally, cooperatives must exist as independent and diverse spheres of economic practices and relations. As such, they stand apart from both capitalist and formal socialist institutions. They are ‘sites where ethical economic decisions can be made around recognised forms of interdependence, and where we can perform economy in new ways’ (Gibson-Graham, 2006, p. 81). These ‘multiple heterogenous sites of struggle resignify’ economic transactions and relations in ways that supersede the capital–noncapital binaries and reconstitute the economy around interdependence and collectives, underscoring the commonness of human social existence. They are ‘alternatives that are more participatory, more solidarity-based, more just, and, in short, more effective for the socio-economic development of the people’ (Reyes & Harnecker, 2013, p. 27). There are enormous efforts in part of capitalocentric discourses to assimilate cooperatives as part and manifestations of the overarching capitalist system. Neoliberalism makes all efforts to end the diversities by ‘subjecting the collective assets and social provisioning capacities of cooperatives to commodification’ (Satgar, 2007, p. 67). Cooperatives must resist any such assimilation. They must offer ‘a positive socio-economic and political alternative to both Communism and imperialist capitalism’ (Gessler, 2015, p. 71). They must continue to adapt to particular contexts and be inclusive of various native, indigenous peoples and their customary practices. Most successful cooperatives have grown from within the indigenous context.
The following section entails engagement with a few cooperatives across the world.
Indigenous Culture and Cooperatives: Mutually Strengthening Phenomena
A brief analysis of a few cooperatives across the world shows that these attempts have been successful when they have emerged from within the people and their social contexts but have failed to make any significant impact wherever they have been imposed from above as part of larger projects.
One of the most exemplary attempts towards a modern cooperative society is the Mondragón Cooperative in the Basque region in Spain. Priest Jose María Arizmendiarrieta began constructing an environment of reclaiming a depleting cultural identity that defined itself in collective and transformative action. Five young men, who were dissatisfied with the corporate culture of exploitative wage labour, started a new enterprise in 1956 and called it Ulgor (now Fagor Electrodomésticos). One hundred residents of the area together contributed to its initial capital, making it a ‘unique’ as well as ‘uncertain’ experiment. From the very beginning, the collective structure was Ulgor’s base. ‘Concepts like solidarity, labour sovereignty, and internal democracy became rooted; these social ideals were made concrete in organisational mechanisms that were applied in practice’ (Gabilondo et al., 2013, p. 170). This project, with an inverted pyramid structure—at the top the cooperatives with sovereignty, in the middle the sectoral branches and at the base the corporate centre—aimed at challenging the contradiction between labour and capital and instating cooperative action based on self-management. Mondragón’s novelty lies in showing ‘the possibility of a more homogenous, solidarity-based distribution of surplus for implementing individual and collective projects by cooperatives and their surrounding communities’ (Gabilondo et al., 2013, p. 179). Now, as the network of the cooperative grows fast, in both production and membership, its members strive hard to keep the cooperative spirit intact.
The Mondragón project is a product of its own context: its people, their culture and their economic relations. Its advantages and challenges, too, are peculiar to the region. ‘This model cannot simply be transported to other sites in the world and be expected to work without modification… The insight that surpluses generated and the wealth can be shared equitably and democratically is what Mondragón offers’ (Gibson-Graham, 2006, p. 179). Dongre and Paranjothi (2020) wrote about Canadian Women Housing Cooperatives, the German cooperative online market called ‘Fairmondo’ and a web-based worker cooperative ‘Loomio’ in New Zealand as a few different but successful cooperative endeavours. Similar experiments can be found elsewhere. Gibson-Graham (2006) cited the Mararikulam experiment of Kerala, India, which works for generating ‘local wealth’ collectively, as one such attempt. According to Anandaram and Dubhashi (1999), India has the largest number of cooperatives worldwide with the highest number of people as members. Vaidyanathan (2013) mentioned that the National Cooperative Union of India reported in 2007–2008 around 1,50,000 primary credit cooperatives (with 180 million memberships) and 2,60,000 non-credit primary societies (with 250 million memberships).
The massive commercialisation of agriculture in colonial Korea resulted in unprecedented problems. Peasants failed to cope with the ‘rapid fluctuations of commodity prices, declining household incomes, and increasing household debt’ (Park, 2014, p. 120). By the 1920s, considerable socio-economic changes led to the loss of traditional institutions and practices such as kye (a community financial institution). The collective resistance built by peasants under the concerted leadership of the Presbyterian Church, the YMCA and the Chŏndogyo rural movement ‘illustrate[s] the innovative ways Koreans negotiated capitalism. All three movements adopted this cooperative system (hyŏptong chohap) to anchor the birth of a modern Korean society centered on agriculture’ (Park, 2014, p. 116). Cooperation was believed to create a harmonious social environment that promotes interdependence and mutual coexistence and ‘a communal life of well-being grounded in morals and ethics’. This was largely inspired by Danish cooperatives or the Andelsbenegelses that created miraculous resurgence of the Danish economy after the losses of the Napoleonic wars, which had led to a declaration of bankruptcy in 1813. ‘Throughout the world, the Danish cooperative system was studied because of its potential to offer a “third way” of development beyond democratic industrial capitalism and communism’ (Park, 2014, p. 125).
In Nicaragua, on the other hand, cooperatives became part of post-revolutionary changes. State-led enterprises and rural cooperatives promoted by Sandinistas, however, made the people suspicious. ‘The logic of collective work promoted by the state was in direct opposition to local conceptions of prosperity based on the idea of intense individual work, especially among small farmers and peasants’ (Soto, 2019, p. 48). ‘Cooperatives were part of FSLN’s 1969 historic program, which was committed to motivating and encouraging peasants to organise and take their destiny into their own hands and participate directly in the country’s development’ (Rocha, 2020, p. 111). But these collective efforts remained as faraway projects imposed by the state and never became embodied in the lived experiences. ‘In the 1980s, rural inhabitants of the agrarian frontier felt that cooperatives not only threatened their well-being but also disrespected their way of life. Not surprisingly peasants in those regions were reluctant to participate in cooperatives’ (p. 48). In other areas such as Paraguay, ‘indigenous traditions of oñdinepa (communal labour and yopoi (mutual aid)) were strategically adapted and promoted by Jesuit missionaries’ and, along with Russian Mennonite immigrants, established some successful cooperatives in the early 1930s. Here, however, depoliticisation of cooperatives, dubious state assistance/intervention, violence and neutrality, and forced neoliberal reforms later mitigated the successes of the cooperative movement (Burke & Piekielek, 2011). In Cuba, the development of the cooperatives directly reflected the debates within the socialist government. Its general perspective of cooperatives as ‘pre-socialist’ or ‘compromise’ led to a fragmented cooperative development (Ludlam, 2014).
In Brazil, consumer cooperativism was initially introduced in the southern and south-eastern regions by European immigrants, which, however, declined by the end of the 1960s due to the lack of official assistance. Gradually, economic enterprises such as agricultural cooperatives began to emerge, supporting large producers and ‘weakening labour relations, leading to subcontracting and lower labour costs’ (Gaiger & Anjos, 2013, p. 219). Large businesses used them to access public resources and negotiate with the political forces of the state. It was only in the 1980s that independent social actors emerged prominently in Brazil. From semi-family undertakings and group initiatives to informal partnerships and cooperatives, these activities ranged from growing and selling agricultural products to processing and services. By the 1990s, this growing variety of socio-economic endeavours came to be popularly known as ‘solidarity economy’. These projects signify and reflect the collective and social nature of existence based on ‘labour and reciprocity’, typical of most of the indigenous communities worldwide.
The following section is a case study of the Rabhas of Assam and their community economy practices.
The Rabhas and their Experiments with Cooperatives
The north-eastern Indian state of Assam is a land of many indigenous communities, and the Rabhas are one among them. Aboriginal to the region, they are known to be an Indo-Mongoloid ethnic group, who have largely been part of the larger Bodo tribe and have come from the Tibetan Himalayan region. They migrated into the region some few thousand years before the Aryans first reached India (Rabha, 2006). They preserve history mostly through collective narratives and stories. Rajen Rabha mentioned that the Rabhas inhabit in the greatest strength in the undivided Goalpara, Kamrup, Darrang districts of Assam and the Garo Hills district of Meghalaya. ‘The Rabhas are also found scattered in Nagaon, Sivasagar, Karbi Anglong, Dibrugarh, North Lakhimpur and Cachar districts of Assam, Khasi district in Meghalaya, as well as the districts of Purulia, West Dinajpur and 24-Paraganas in West Bengal’ (Rabha, 2002, p. 2). Today, the Rabhas are concentrated primarily in the Goalpara and Kamrup districts. For over two years, the author’s study of the Rabhas was also conducted from here. According to the 1991 census reports, the Rabhas constituted 12.08% of the total population of Goalpara and 3.8% of the total population of Kamrup, with their total population being 80,694 and 74,954, respectively. The 2001 census reports estimated that the population of Rabhas in Goalpara was 56,255, which constituted 6.8% of the total population of the district and 0.5% of that of Assam. In Kamrup, the number was 22,492, constituting 0.9% of the total population of the district. In 2011, the total population of the Rabhas in Goalpara and Kamrup was 1,03,757 and 91,034, respectively.
The ascendancy of the Ahoms to political supremacy in Assam in the 13th century did not fundamentally alter the social fabric of the region. Most of the indigenous communities were co-opted as autonomous kingdoms under Ahom suzerainty. It was only after the entry of the British that Assam, for the first time, became an integral part of mainland India. Assam consisted largely of two valleys: Brahmaputra and Barak, and the adjacent hill areas. The Schedule District Act of 1874 underscored this fundamental difference and administratively separated the hilly and remote areas of the north-east to secure a special status for the hill tribes. However, the plain areas of the valleys came under the General Acts and Regulation. After independence, the Sixth Schedule incorporated the hill tribes, leaving the indigenous communities of the plains, such as the Rabhas, without any substantial constitutional safeguard. To address this, the Assam Land and Revenue Regulation of 1886 was amended in 1947, at the initiative of Gopinath Bordoloi, and a 10th chapter was added. Eleven (now 33) Tribal Belts and Blocks were created. However, their administrative implementation in the later regimes is questionable. Also, s and Xaxa (2014) wrote extensively how the general understanding of the new government regarding the indigenous communities and their backwardness in terms of their distance from the mainstream communities have impacted much of the policymaking process.
The colonial administration instituted two major changes in Assam’s otherwise autonomous and decentralised economy. First, the British introduced a full-fledged money economy, thereby bringing the first major challenge to the traditional economic practices of Assam. Second, and corollary to it, the introduction of a capital-intensive economy brought about a major influx of people from neighbouring areas, which would, in a matter of few decades, entirely alter the demography of the region and as a result challenge the traditional command of the indigenous people over their land and resources.
The political economy of the Rabhas has not been much researched. As a closely bound group, the community has been their important pillar. Land and forests have traditionally been owned and managed communally. Although the Rabha life surrounds individual households, their primary mode of functioning is based on collective responsibility and in close association with nature. With colonial intrusion, integration with the formal economy dimmed this community economy. The introduction of the market economy and new agricultural practices revolving around commodity production disturbed the otherwise holistic economic existence of the community. As a self-sustaining economy, when confronted with these new institutions, it quickly went to backfoot. As external migration into the hinterlands grew, causing massive demographic changes, natives were further pushed back. Now, the Rabhas are struggling to preserve their customary community economy. In the author’s field study, two important attempts were observed at adapting their traditional community economic practices into two modern cooperative institutions, which are discussed below. The first is the public granaries (rajohua bhoral) found across all Rabha villages, and the second is their experiments with rubber cultivation.
Rajohua Bhoral
In line with their communal/collective agricultural practices, a model public granary was established in 1948 by Surendranath Halo to fight against moneylenders as well as corporations. Soon, every Rabha village developed a public granary. Every year, each family gave a portion of their produce (depending on the year’s harvest) to the granary. Anyone in need can borrow grains (rice) from the granary, with a minimal interest that had to be paid along with the principal in kind. This practice has kept the Rabhas away from moneylenders, moneylending being an exploitative practice that keeps most of the small farmers in perpetual poverty in many parts of India. Today, public granaries are integral parts of every Rabha village. Now, money can also be exchanged for sacks of grain. Since the past decade, women’s public granaries have also been created in many villages. They are exclusively for women and aim at financially supporting their economic endeavours. The Rabhas have two clear intentions in regard to their granaries: one, these granaries shall not be replaced with banks that deal with money since their idea is not to let anyone go hungry ever in these areas and therefore food—not money—is what they are concerned about; and two, no matter how obsolete they may seem today, they are never going to let public granaries cease to exist.
Listi Ram Rabha, 68, a retired headmaster of Nehru Vidyapith High School—the leading high school of the Baida area—and the present principal of the Baida Junior College, believes these public granaries to be central to the political economy of the Rabhas.
There is another aspect that has traditionally been with the Rabhas and has strengthened the spirit of community among them. This is the institution of collective granary. Every Rabha village has had a public granary. Living and evolving in the context of a zamindari system, the Rabhas have known poverty and hunger very well. Therefore, their primary goal has been to fight this as a community. Public granaries provided grains to the needy at a minimal interest that went back to the community itself. Such practices have kept private moneylenders at bay. In the last few decades we have seen coming up of new public granaries for women. These granaries help and support women in their household needs as well as in entrepreneurial and other economic ventures.
Rubber Cooperatives
Whereas the public or community granaries have kept the community self-sufficient, the collective rubber cultivation has helped the economy to grow. This commercial crop was opted into the customary community economic practices of the Rabhas. Years of deforestation and colonial as well as post-colonial appropriations left the once-dense Sal forests of Goalpara barren and the lands open for acquisition. The Rabhas’ struggle to protect their forest lands started here, and the Rubber Board of India played a significant role in this since the late 1880s. At this time, Goalpara was one of the most backward districts of Assam.
Inspired by the community’s way of life, rubber cultivation was started in groups. Group nurseries were established. This community approach led to a more than 80% success rate in rubber cultivation (as attested by field officer Prasanta Barua). A large number of people bear testimony to this. In 1996, the Group Planting Scheme was introduced by the Rubber Board of India. Until 1996, there were 65 rubber growers with life permits. An average of 200 rubber growers were added to this tally every year. Today, there are more than 15,000 registered rubber growers as estimated by the Rubber Growers’ Association. One of the best examples of collective rubber farming is the Ghengabari Rubber Plantation. With scientific work allocation, this farm has created an exemplary picture of collectivisation of agriculture. In Goalpara, rubber plantation generates a total annual income of more than 60 crores.
It is remarkable that, in Goalpara, rubber plantations developed from the very beginning as a collective venture of poor indigenous peasants. Madhav Rabha recalled how they organised the peasants and developed their cooperative society:
In 1995, we established the Rubber Growers’ Association. I am one of its founding members. The motive is to both strengthen the rights and interests of the rubber growers, and also bring more and more people into rubber cultivation. The association has incessantly worked for the growers. We started the ‘Goalpara Jila Janajati Bohumukhi Society’ in 2006 for encouraging collective farming. We have taken 15 hectares of land in list. About 130 people are involved in this enterprise. The Rubber Board has been providing us large numbers of rubber stems.
Satish Rabha, another stalwart of this movement, is optimistic about cooperative societies that provide employment and livelihood to a large number of rural families:
Rubber growing has largely been a community initiative in Goalpara. In Dwaraka itself, the community farms involve about 33 families and generate over Rupees 30 lakhs annual income. In this venture there are 22 families from Bamundanga, 6 from Borjoora, 2 from Chotadamal, and 3 from Bairong. These farms appoint a large number local unemployed youth. In my own village now all 185 families are involved in rubber growing. I can go as far as to say that one hundred percent people in our village are rubber growers. We together generate over Rupees 1.5 crore annually. Today we can have good houses, good education for our children, a decent lifestyle, and most of all an independent livelihood.
Several companies are now engaged in the Agia area in purchasing rubber sheets produced by local growers both collectively and individually. The Rubber Board of India itself is one of the major purchasers, as well as tyre companies such as CEAT. But the most noticeable development in rubber marketing is the rise and development of AJAGAR, a local NGO-cum-company. It was established in 1998 by a few local young men motivated by the earnest desire to provide employment to the local youth and encourage the community of growers who were initially in dire need of purchasers for their produce.
Conclusion
Capitalism, in the 21st century, has obtained a truly global characteristic in its attempt to reach the remotest corners of the world. As it encounters the myriad of economic realities, it inevitably and desperately attempts to transform the differences into its own intelligible language of commodification and profit-making. But this capitalocentrism has now increasingly come under scrutiny. Capitalism is expanding but also failing. Every act of assertion of identity by various communities—of reclaiming their traditional lands, of their conscious defence of customary practices and of their celebration of community economic ties—acts as a mark of defiance.
As the capitalist discourse overwrites people, their cultures, histories and practices, the most promising resistance to this homogenising discourse lie in reclaiming the centre stage for people and their communities. Community economies provide a way for people to reclaim the economy for themselves. Cooperatives provide a viable means to institute community economies. They provide people with means to institute independent production processes and relations. Importantly, they also provide meaningful ways to incorporate the customary political economic practices of indigenous communities into institutionalised economic practices. Community economies not just provide a way of instituting the economy as an alternative to the capitalist system but open up the very discourse as well as practice economy and open the space for diversity. We have to locate the collective practices of indigenous communities such as the Rabhas in this broader context. There is no one way of forming community economies or cooperatives, no single blueprint, no one paradigm. In their diversities and their collective nature lies the challenge to the uniformity and hegemony of the capitalist discourse and its institutions. As long as people’s lives and contexts continue to be heterogeneous and a substantial portion of that population continues to live in the perpetual inequality, poverty and hardship that the hegemonic capitalist system creates, these heterogeneous entries into the economic sphere would continue to exist.
Footnotes
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.
