Identity Mishaps: How the Portuguese Never Get it Right

As the debate around the innocent request for English to also be granted State support when used as a medium of instruction (MoI) rages in Goa, and the issue converted into a case against Goa’s Catholics, who are just one segment of the population making this demand, on other fronts, life goes on as usual.

Take the example of the rather interesting initiative of the Fundação Oriente to organise the ‘Goan Short Stories 2011’ competition, with an aim to contribute towards Indo-Portuguese cultural exchange and the promotion of Goan identity. This initiative by the Fundação Oriente is clearly marked by an attempt at fostering the pluralism that constitutes the Goan identity, given that it has indicated that stories written in Portuguese, Konkani, in the Roman as well as Nagari script, and English will be accepted. In accepting stories in these languages, what the much maligned, and often unwarrantedly so, Fundação Oriente seems to be indicating, is that the evolving Indo-Portuguese cultural complex, as far as Goa is concerned, is composed not just of Portuguese, but these other languages as well that are a part of the Goan cultural fabric. This is a broad and welcome statement, and is a credit to the Fundação.

And yet, it appears, the Portuguese can never get it right. In crafting a statement of commitment to Goa’s pluralism, and indeed that of our Indo-Portuguese heritage, the Fundação Oriente has left out another significant Goan language, Marathi.

This exclusion is unfortunate given Goa’s and indeed the Estado da India Portuguesa’s historical relationship with the Marathi language. Marathi was effectively a State language in the days of the Portuguese State, a status that was never enjoyed by Konkani. As Rochelle Pinto’s research on the print politics of nineteenth century Goa demonstrates, Marathi was inserted into the official lexicon of the Portuguese State in India thanks to the efforts of the Catholic elite of the time, who saw the demand of the Brahmin elite (the ‘big families’) of the time, as a legitimate demand. Marathi has been the language of social emancipation for not just the Hindu bahujan samaj, but also of the impoverished segments of the Hindu dominant castes in Goa. The poor, rural segments of the ‘small families’ of the Hindu dominant castes used education in Marathi as a tool through which they could migrate to the Bombay Presidency and gain employment there. Pinto is quick to point out that very often the writing in Marathi did not reflect the specificities of Goa, and was often used as a vehicle to criticize the operation of the Portuguese State in India. Regardless of this argument however, Marathi was (and continues to be) a part of the cultural heritage of Goa and its Indo-Portuguese cultural basket, given the fact that so much of its social reform, a good amount of it supported by the Portuguese State, happened in the Marathi language. Even if not used actively in Goa today (a fact that will doubtlessly be contested) Goan segments of Indo-Portuguese history is written in Marathi, as much as it is written in Portuguese.

While unaware of what exactly has led to the Fundação to this forgetting of an important part of Goan, and Indo-Portuguese history, one wonders if the presence of the Konkani Bhasha Mandal, one of the organisers of this competition had something to do with this exclusion. The Konkani Bhasha Mandal, as we know, are rather zealous Konknni-mogis (Lovers of Konknni). Their love is a jealous love. No other language may share space with their beloved Konknni. As the current controversy over the MoI will indicate, they are a skillful lot these Konknni-mogis. When English seeks to assert its place in the Goan sun, they will gang up against it along with Marathi. When Marathi seeks to assert itself, they will gang up against it with those who produce in the Roman script. The winner at the end of the game will always be Konknni, this peculiar version of the Concanim language.

The Fundação Oriente should not feel terrible however. It is not the only institution to get the complex configuration of Goan politics wrong. A much more venerable institution, like the Catholic Church in Goa, has also, and often, got the equation quite completely wrong. In an earlier time, responding to the call of the Universal Catholic Church via the II Vatican Council, the Catholic Church in Goa acknowledged various errors of the past and made amends by adopting wholeheartedly the Konkani language. Indeed, it went a couple of steps further than what was required under the changes suggested by the II Vatican Council. Rejecting a Concanim by the priests and understood by the Catholic laity, it converted Concanim into Konknni, sanskritising the language with the vigor of the Brahmanical partisans that destroyed the Buddhist hegemony in South Asia. Aligning itself with the sub-nationalist cause of an earlier generation of Konkani Bhasha Mandal leaders, it stood by while the Catholic masses were rallied in its name to the cause of Konkani, converted the Diocesan schools to teaching in Konknni, and reveled in the warm glow when it was praised by these leaders. The mat was subsequently pulled from under the Catholic hierarchy’s feet when they responded to the demand of parents for English as MoI in diocese run schools, the good Church, had become in a twinkling of the eye, the bad Church.

A close reading of post-colonial Goan history should teach a few lessons to the leadership of the Fundação Oriente. One does not become the good guy by blindly dancing to the Konknni fiddle. Like the Catholic Church is learning today, they were but a tool in the establishment of an intolerant hegemony in Goa. The moment one steps out of the line dictated by the Konknni hegemony, one transforms in an instant, from the good guy to the bad guy. You cannot dance the tango with a Konknni-mogi.

And so, my dear Fundação Oriente, after this little letter to your good sense, will you dance the Fandango with me? Why not contemplate the inclusion of Marathi in the list of acceptable languages for the competition?

(A version of this post was first published in the Gomantak Times 29 June 2011)

Standing for Rights: The demand for English and the ‘Mother tongue’

The events subsequent to spectacular showing at FORCE’s (Forum for Rights of Children's Educations) rally on March 20, present a delightful opportunity for us to reflect on the nuances on Goa’s complex politics.

To begin with, the opponents to this move have raised the predictable bogey of ‘mother tongue’. The attempts by FORCE and related groups and individuals so far has been to respond to these arguments by rather weak formulations. In these formulations, lacking anything more than a superficial understanding of Goa’s linguistic politics, as well as operating as if movements in the rest of India did not matter, they fall over themselves while making statements about Marathi and Konkani, alienating rather than gaining allies. This situation could be resolved by focussing on the real issue here, that of power. Addressing the situation in this manner, will provide them an effective platform to display the mother tongue argument for what it is, a scam.

An essay in a recent issue of the Economic and Political Weekly pointed out that ‘In the case of historically marginalised sub­jects who have been denied their rights, such as Dalits, arguments in favour of Eng­lish as the language of empowerment and emancipation have been around for some time now.’ These pan-Indian movements, most notably Chandra Bhan Prasad’s celebrations of Macaulay’s birthday, and the setting up of the cult of the English Devi, point to the question of power. In which language is power held they ask? The answer is quite clear. Universally, nationally, and locally in Goa, as demonstrated by the publication of the State’s Gazette, power is wielded in English. As groups since British-India’s freedom struggle have realised, access to English is imperative to demand rights that are being denied.

Within Goa, there is another language that holds power; Konkani. This Konkani while masquerading as the popular language of Goa, is not a Konkani (or 'mother tongue') universally spoken or written by all Goans. It is primarily a Konkani spoken by the Sarasawat and its allied castes, and is presented to the rest of the Goans as the pure language that they must all mimic. The model for Goanhood is thus, the Saraswat, and all other local cultural and life-style models are either faulty, or as some would not hesitate to bluntly accuse, anti-national. By this model, despite the suggestion that one can eventually ‘blend in’, one can never be properly 'Goan', until and unless one is Saraswat or part of a similarly aligned caste. The operation of Konkani in Goa therefore, confers supreme power on some (caste groups), and deprives others of power completely.

This latter reason ensured a participation in the March 20 rally that cut across divisions of caste and religion. The demand at the rally was truly unitedly ‘Goan’ in that sense. It is perhaps also for this reason that the Education Minister, Mr. Monserrate, who represents a social group largely excluded from official power, responded positively to the rally’s demand.

The letter written by Fathers Mousinho de Ataide and Jaime Couto to the Archbishop in opposition to this demand however, point to an interesting fact. The leadership of this demand, as evidenced by those who were on the platform on the 20th, are largely Catholic (and I dare hazard a guess and suggest dominant caste/ middle class). FORCE would do well to make its leadership more representative of the forces that support it. This would be the perfect and only way in which it can effectively respond to its critics, gain its objectives and not fall into the Marathi trap that the Konkani lobby regularly lays. In other words, they need to forge alliances with those Hindu bahujan who were clearly present at the meeting and also wish a support for State supported English language education. This alliance can only come about, if the current leadership of FORCE takes the perspective of power seriously. To do so would require them to relook the Konkani-Marathi agitation, and ask the questions that Dr. Oscar Rebello asked us recently, why did almost the entire Bahujan Samaj want to merge with Maharashtra? The answer is that they feared power be firmly established in Brahmin hands. Those unaware of the history of ‘Konkani as mother tongue’ should know that it has largely been a brahmanical history dominated by the socio-political goals of the Saraswat caste. Merely look at the caste origins of those opposing the current demand to understand the value of caste analysis.

Caste analysis would also warn us that those in favour of support for English education need not engage in Saraswat bashing. For, does the opposition to English not include Mrs. Shashikala Kakodkar under the banner of Bharatiya Bhasha Suraksha Manch? Caste analysis will point out that support for ‘Indian’ ‘mother-tongues’ is largely the tool of brahmanised castes and groups. Through this tool, they effectively restrict other groups from accessing State power in India. Ms. Kakodkar’s opposition however may largely flow from the internal contradictions of the Maharashtrian Maratha-pride movement that structured the reform experiences of Goa’s bahujan samaj. In Maharashtra the Maratha despised the Brahmin, but sought to become brahmanised themselves. Further, a look at the largely ignored history of Goa’s Portuguese period will point out, as has Rochelle Pinto, that Goa’s Catholic elites, whether Bamon or Chardo, used the brahmanical imagination of the Indian national movement to settle their own scores against the Portuguese and demand autonomy. To do this, they also had to buy the argument that their own cultures were inauthentic, and they gleefully placed the blame for this condition on the Portuguese. In adopting Konkani as their sole mother tongue, not only did they ineffectively attempt to ‘blend in’, but also obscured the fact that the South Asian experience of language does not accommodate narrow 19^th century European formulations of ‘mother tongues’. Rhetorical use of the value of Konkani however also served these elite Catholics to keep non-elite Catholics ‘in their place’.

The failure of the attempt to ‘blend in’ is the reason that FORCE has obtained the support of such staunch nationalists and formerly Nagari-Konkani stalwarts as Tomazinho Cardozo and Fr. Pratap Naik. A word of advice to Mr. Cardozo though; Drop this ridiculous argument that the ‘Medium of Instruction’ clause was a conspiracy against the Archdiocese schools. On the contrary, the Konkani language movement has been piggybacking on the Archdiocese schools to secure its power. Via this argument, Mr. Cardozo stands to unwittingly convert the issue one of Catholics versus the rest. Conspiracy to destroy is not part of the equation, and if so, may have applied to an earlier context, that does not hold now. It would be especially a pity since Mr. Cardozo has thus far admirably held the tenor of the demand for recognising the Roman script to the issue of power, and not succumbed to the red-herring of ‘us Catholics’. But then this is because the Roman script issue is a caste battle, against the brahmanised castes and groups in Goa, and even though Mr. Cardozo does not use this lens, he is a remarkably perceptive man.

It is when we speak of power that the single most powerful argument of the FORCE is revealed, it is the parent that has the right to decide the education of their child. The democratic rights of the parent cannot be held hostage to the national-community building fantasies of either a small group of people, or a State. To do so is ultimately what fascism is about. A focus on rights, would also reveal the possibility that this fight could be taken to the courts, which may perhaps prove less amenable to nationalist arguments and open to the demands of democratising access to education.

(First published in the Gomantak Times, 30 March 2011)

Konkani Only: And the options for polyphonic public debate

Standing up at the start of the open house of a panel discussion some weeks ago, the editor of a local language newspaper in Goa began a narrative that should be well-known to those familiar with Goan politics. ‘All you fancy cats speak in English’ he charged, ‘and as a result no one speaks in Konkani, and the common man who does not understand English is left out of these discussions’.

This Konkani position that we hear being articulated today stems from the ideological posture that Konkani is THE mother-tongue of all Goans. This position conflates being Goan with speaking Konkani, and this assertion is deeply troubling. It is troubling because it cuts out of the equation those groups living in Goa for whom Konkani is the language of commerce, that is to say, the language of the market, and not the language of the home. It also complicates the relationship of those people who continue to assert that their mother-tongue is Marathi even though they speak Konkani at home, and their earlier generations have always lived within the political boundaries of Goa. To assert that Konkani is equal to Goan-ness is to not respect the peculiarities that result in these situations. This is a deeply troubling position, since Konkani is but one of the legitimately Goan languages within which we can count Portuguese, English, Marathi, Hindustani; Gujarati even. Each of these languages holds a portion of Goan history and to erase these from the public sphere is to do injustice, not just to those who speak that language, but to Goan society itself, given that our history is intimately (if invisibly) tied to these languages.

This whole idea of a single language for communication stems from the now outdated notion of European nationalism. European powers before they began their overseas colonization began an internal colonization. This internal colonization involved the suppression of multiple identities and the cultivation of one language that was then labeled ‘mother tongue’. In truth, the idea of a ‘mother tongue’ does not fit the experience of most peoples across the world, including those in South Asia. They are able to easily converse in one or more tongue, switching between languages based on the context they are in. Rather than trying to impoverish our socio-political lives therefore by imposing uniformity, it would pay to cultivate plurality, especially with regard to languages.

One route toward cultivating plurality would be to gain some familiarity with the languages mentioned above. In South Asia, genuine illiteracy comes about when one is unfamiliar with the languages that are spoken around oneself. Thus it is incumbent on us that we at the very least understand these other languages. We may not be able to fluently express ourselves in these other languages, but if everyone is familiar with the other’s language, we would have made a move towards understanding each other. Can we therefore contemplate a situation where people speak in the language of their choice, are understood by their audience, who then respond in diverse and multiple languages? Can we contemplate a situation where in a public discussion A speaks in Marathi, B responds in Konkani and the whole discussion is moderated by C in English? This is not an unfathomable situation since this is a reality of life, in Goa at least. To allow for such a situation would be to allow the possibility for a richer discussion in our public sphere.

If there is a challenge to this situation coming into being, then it is the intolerant ideology that discussions must happen in one language alone, and to speak in the language other than the one dominating the discussion is shameful. To be fair, this shame is felt largely by those speaking a language other than English. There is without doubt a certain arrogance that the English speaker brings to the public sphere. However, most of the time the complaints that discussions are conducted primarily in English are made by those familiar with English, and speaking in English. The burden of creating this polyphonic public sphere therefore falls first on those Konkani activists capable of articulating in Konkani. To them the advice would be, speak in Konkani even if the debate is being conducted in English. While there is no obligation to speak in Konkani, there should be an obligation to at least understand Konkani, Marathi and Hindustani. Once the stalwarts of the Konkani language movement make this move to make public discussions in Konkani, one assumes that the common man, that these stalwarts are so concerned about, will themselves begin to speak and debate in their tongue of choice, regardless of whether the debate is in English or not.

It seems to me though, that the problem lies with these stalwarts, who need to display, in English language dominated settings that they are capable of speaking in English as well. In such a case, what are we to do?

(First published in the Gomantak Times 26 May 2010)