Learning from Tiracol: Elements in the Dismantling of Goa

Some weeks ago I had the opportunity to view an illustration by the artist Angela Ferrão which is reproduced with this column. Titled, The Extraction of Goan Identity, the image was clearly inspired by the horrific acts of 16 May 2015 when the village of Tiracol was set upon by men and machinery with a view to surreptitiously destroy the orchards and pave the way for a golf course and hotel. The image depicts a landscape ravaged by the destruction of trees, of gaping holes and mounds of loose soil, and the presence of cranes and other earth-moving equipment. Indeed, one could suggest that Ferrão has also illustrated the miserable outcomes of mining in Goa. To that extent, Ferrão’s image speaks beyond the immediate scenario of Tiracol and to the larger way in which Goa is being ‘developed’, and forces us to ask fundamental questions about the future we desire for Goa.

My interest, however, was piqued by another element in the image. Squat in the centre of the foreground is an issue that Ferrão clearly identifies as central to the problem of Goan future: “Out Migration of Goans”.

I was delighted when I saw this articulation because it dovetailed with my own estimation of the problem. The out migration of Goans is one of the significant issues faced by contemporary Goa. What was particularly heartening, however, was that while the artist identifies out migration of Goans as one of the problems, she does not similarly identity migration to Goa as a problem. I think that while the migration into Goa of “outsiders” is popularly seen as a major problem threatening the survival of a Goan identity, this in-migration to Goa turns problematic primarily because of the out migration of Goans, and the denigration of extant Goan cultural practices.

Making this argument does not mean that I seek to blame Goans, as some are wont to do. Rather, I believe that rather than blame Goans, or the migrants into Goa, the root of the problem lies in the structures which cause Goans to leave, as well as those structures that make it possible for lived cultural practices of Goans to be denigrated, even as an unreal Goan-ness is celebrated to feed the profits of the tourism industry and the coffers of the Indian state.

Coincidentally, it was as I was formulating these thoughts that I came across an article by Haineube Newme titled “The root causes of racism against North Easterners”. Reading through his reflections I was struck by the similarity in his analysis of the problem. Newme suggests that the racism against persons from the North East of India does not emerge from personal racism, but, rather, is fed by an institutional racism.  “The North Eastern regions have been neglected economically and socially”, he argues. Goans and people from the North East both seem to have one thing in common, and that is a high rate of migration. So to phrase it in Newme’s words “The relevant question would be: why have so many people fled their villages or towns and come to live in the metropolitan Indian cities?” Newme could be speaking about Goa when in response to this question he asserts: “Comparably, if greater opportunities of living were being provided, North Eastern states can be better places to live than the other cities of India. One can enjoy better environment, beautiful landscape and better sanity in the North Eastern region. But, the region suffers from a dearth of employment, development and better education opportunities. The reason as to why many people have fled to various cities like Delhi, Bangalore, Chennai etc. is nothing but to search for better educational scope or survival as they do not see any hope in home states to fulfil their needs.” Once again the pertinence of Newme’s articulation to Goa is striking.

In his insightful book Refiguring Goa, Raghu Trichur has pointed out that since integration into India, Goa’s economic ‘development’ seems to have been restricted to mercantile capitalism.  Thus, while merchant capital encourages the production of commodities, for example iron-ore, or of Goa as a tourist destination, it does not transform the relations of production that produce these commodities. The result is that the emancipation that could be a part of capitalist development is not realized, and unequal labour and social relations continue to be sustained. It is because tourism, or other employments opportunities within the state, do not provide Goans dignified labour that so many migrate. Hence there is a dual onslaught, where Goa’s landscape is capitalised, to allow external and internal capitalists to purchase Goan property, even while poorer locals have no scope to rise socially. It is precisely this that forces a systematic process of Goan sale and migration.

These observations allow us to respond to Chief Minister Parsekar’s recent defence of the golf project in Tiracol on the grounds that it will provide employment. The question that those of us who are interested in substantial development must ask is not whether it will provide employment or not, but what sort of employment it will provide. This is where the distinction, recently raised by Amita Kanekar, between two types of tourism come in. On the one hand is the small scale tourism that first emerged in Goa that allowed former tenants to change their lives and prospects. On the other hand is corporate tourism that follows the logic of mercantile capitalism.

What sets the stage for the institutional racism, and simultaneously colonialism, is the complicity of the State in Goa in this process of privileging mercantile interests over those of the citizen. Goa has been witness to emigration even prior to its integration to India. This emigration was a substantial statement of the inability of the Portuguese state to provide decent conditions to citizens in Goa, as well as an indication of its inability or unwillingness to upset its relationship with landlords and feudal chiefs who propped up the colonial regime. Subsequently, in its early period of its possession of Goa, the Indian state seemed to delight in the fact that it earned foreign exchange via the persons it was sending abroad. To this extent, it seems that the Indian state was not very different from the Portuguese state. Both these states failed to provide infrastructure which would ensure that people were not obliged to leave the state to improve their prospects.

Another observation Newme makes is to point out that “North Easterners are considered as outsiders 'polluting' the existing Indian culture.” This observation ties in with my own assertion, that the migration into Goa is assumed to be a threat primarily because of the disparaging of Goan cultural practices. It is through this dismissal of Goan culture, and especially the elements that predominate among Catholics, that this racism is institutionalised.  Take for example, the condescending manner towards tiatr and cantaram as examples, or the absolute refusal to recognise the Roman script in Konkani. From many Catholics one hears the helpless words “what is left for us here?” It is the fact of this dismissal of the locals, and their practices, that allows for a displacement of Goan culture. Were Goan cultures not faced with such official dismissal, it is unlikely that the presence of migrants would have been seen in quite the same way as it is today.

The Goan Hindu is not spared from this onslaught either. It appears that they too suffer from a feeling of not being Indian, i.e. Hindu, enough. Witness the spate of temple demolitions across Goa, where perfectly stable temples are brought crashing down so that newer temples in “Indian” style can come up. Or take the rather interesting article written on the changes in weddings among Goan Hindus by Padmavathi Prabhu in the Navhind Times in January this year. Prabhu celebrates the trend where elements of North Indian (Punjabi and Doabi) Hindu weddings are incorporated into these weddings. However, the question needs to be asked, would other customs be adopted if one were secure in one’s traditions, and not marked by a feeling of shame? It is only when one feels outside the paradigms of power, that one begins to adopt the customs of others, and those who are in power.

So why are we speaking of all of this when it is the case of Tiracol that should fall squarely within our cross hairs of our immediate concerns? Because all of this continues an argument I began in my previous column. Both these columns point to the importance of articulating a person-centred economics. There is a need for the state in Goa to articulate a developmental programme as if people matter. Should the state fail to do so, then it would only go on to support the institutional racism that we are witness to, and aid in the ongoing systematic dismantling of Goa. Tiracol is not the beginning, it is just one more step of the process, and if not addressed it will only get worse.

(A version of this post was first published in the O Heraldo on 12 June 2015)

Leading development as if people mattered

“We need to discuss this whole Golf course thing …Isn't it a good time to introduce high end tourism in Goa?”
“Those people probably are squatters who have been there for a few generations. In the grand scheme they don't matter. As long as they are offered viable alternative places what does it matter J?”
“Well, development must happen. It's inevitable….”

These are extracts from a response I elicited after posting on Facebook the reflections of my colleague Albertina Almeida on the recent events in the village of Tiracol.

What shocked me, and hence forms the basis for this column, was the absolute disregard that these messages displayed to fellow human beings. However, I need to underline that the sentiments should not be construed as restricted to this one individual. Rather, they form part of the mindset of a good portion of middle-class Goans on what constitutes development, how it should be brought about, and what are the challenges to development in Goa. It is even more important to challenge this mind-set because this dismissal of the value of human beings is a part of the complex of ideas that contemporary Hindutva rides on.

There seems to be a wide consensus on the need for Goa to shift from the current mode of tourism. We are attracting the wrong kinds of tourists, goes this consensus, either charter tourists from Europe, or low-budget tourists from India. Instead, we are told, we should focus our energies on high-end and “well-heeled” tourists. The problem, however, is that no one really seems to know how to attract these high-end tourists. The state government has presented some options, such as an oceanarium, a ropeway across the Mandovi River and other such high-cost physical infrastructure. To that extent, the author of the messages at the start of this column seems to be of one mind with the state government.

The problem with such schemes, however, is that such methods often involve pushing people off the land that they occupy, or, as the Tiracol case clearly demonstrates, occupying the lands that the locals use to generate livelihoods. In addition, it also involves, as Vivek Menezes pointed out in a recent op-ed, the violation of a number of environmental norms. Both of these cause loud protests from concerned citizens concerned that, rather than development, these projects will result in economic and ecological impoverishment. This results in delays to the proposed projects. It is little wonder then that proponents of this kind of physical-infrastructure-heavy development see people as a threat that need to be removed.

But is this the only way in which we can generate a tourist economy that would attract these high-spending tourists? Could we not think of a tourist economy that relies on investment in people and social infrastructure instead?

The following anecdote could possibly answer this question. I was once outside the new building of the State Central Library in Patto, Panjim and the sun was beating down fiercely. In this merciless environment I was stopped by a group of Slavs (Russians, or Ukranians I could not tell), looking for directions to the State Museum. It was clear that they had walked all the way from either the bus-stand or Panjim. I felt pity for them, for given my familiarity with the lacklustre state of the Museum, I knew that theirs was to be a wasted trip. It was then that I realised how misplaced so much of our thinking about tourism is. Where we often badmouth the “Russians” who come to visit Goa, we are clueless to the fact that at least some of them would have been willing to engage more substantially with Goa, and Goans, if only state and society had provided them a means to do so.

An investment in culture, in the form of a museum and the training of curators and conservationists, in the form of a state orchestra, a dance company, an opera house would perhaps demand lower levels of investment from the state but would yield greater results because it would be invested in people. As Goa’s lively traditions in tiatr and music demonstrate there is already a base that would allow such investment to multiply rapidly. An exposure to international currents in the various fields would lay the foundations for more creative locals, and a more dynamic local culture that would bring in exactly the kind of tourists that we today seem to lack. But we could do this only if we took our own people seriously.

And then there is this matter of referring to the residents of Tiracol as “squatters”. This is not the first time that I have encountered persons who are lower on the socio-economic scale, and residing in potentially high-value property, being referred to as squatters. In her op-ed essay on the Santa Inez creek in Panjim, Amita Kanekar made observations pertinent to the case in Tiracol. The persons living along the banks of the creek are often referred to as squatters. Kanekar, however, observed that these residents were in fact long-time residents of the area, being mundkars of local bhatkars. “When the bhatkars sold their lands to real estate developers, the mundkars were promised permanent homes elsewhere but given temporary ones here on the creek’s edge”. She also pointed out that it now that the bhatkars sold these lands to developers, these onetime residents were being forced to leave. Calling these displaced tenants squatters, is just one way in which their social and legal legitimacy is robbed from them.

While one hopes that the residents of Tiracol are ensured justice and the damage done to the orchards they tend is made right, there is a need for a larger debate. There is a need for us to examine the manner in which our arguments about development privilege earlier feudal relations. Pre-colonial and colonial period land relations were not just. It is not just that one family should control hundreds, if not thousands, of acres, while others do not have access to a few square metres. While I am not making an argument for expropriation of lands from former landlords, I am arguing that we cannot dismiss former tenants merely as squatters. The fruits of their constant labour in tending to the orchards and fields are what made the landlords rich.  It is in recognition of these labours that the law as it stands today recognises these people as tenants, and recognises that they have certain rights. It behoves us to respect these laws and not skew the debate to privilege a dehumanised development.

The events in Tiracol also raise another issue of vital importance. Given that the issue involves the sale of bhatcarial rights and the question of the settlement of the rights of the tenants, there is a need for us to inquire if those who purchase bhatcarial rights do not also have to be held to a higher standard than someone who is merely purchasing a smaller parcel of property. Reports indicate that Leading Hotels, the new bhatcar of Tiracol, has sought to purchase the rights of the tenants in order to have unrestricted access to the area. The price of these rights has varied from Rs 120 per square metre, then Rs 200, and finally Rs 500 according to the capacities of the individual tenants.

It needs to be recognised that in such circumstances as in Tiracol, though this would also apply to such projects as Aldeia de Goa, the transaction is not a straightforward sale of property. The person making the sale is not necessarily the canny operator in a speculative market. Very often they are making what they see as the best of a situation. The fact, however, may be that the money they received is just not sufficient to take care of their future needs, largely because they failed to take into consideration the kind of unaccounted support that the land provided them. Some would argue that this is a private matter between two parties in a n open-market transaction. I would argue otherwise. This is not a private matter because very often the tenants are selling all they have, they may lack the skills to manage the receipts of the transaction and eventually land up in poverty. The creation of poverty is a public concern and impinges on our common dream of development. As such, there is a need for us to recognize the importance of articulating a rehabilitation policy where the interests of tenants in those properties where prospective bhatcars seek to create an unencumbered right to the property are taken care of.

There is one final argument that was made in the message that deserves to be commented on. The individual who sent me the message recognized that the residents of Tiracol need to be “offered viable alternative places”. In many ways this individual articulated the seed of an ideal rehabilitation policy. Indeed, land for land has been the claim of those articulating the interests of displaced persons. They argue that money alone cannot be a suitable compensation for displacement. Rather, suitable land must be provided for the land that has been lost. The challenge, however, is that such alternative land is very rarely, if ever, available. It is especially in recognition of this fact that we need to think more seriously, not merely of compensation, but rehabilitation, where the futures of these individuals, and a concern that they are not impoverished takes centre stage.

There is a reason why India has not developed the way people expect and hope it would. It has not because development has not as yet privileged people. Development will happen, and “well-heeled” tourists will flow in, when we take people seriously, and invest in these people, support their dreams and futures. Until then, we should not expect any “Acche din”.

(A version of this post was first published in the O Heraldo dated 29 May 2015)

Putting the citizen first: Creeks, forts, heritage and the citizen

The attempt to revive the creek that runs through Campal and Tonca, and sometimes erroneously called ‘Campal Creek’ is one of the many urban regeneration projects that animates Panjim’s citizens these days. This is a happy occurrence and we must all hope that the initiative will come to fruition. An earlier reflection on this column had observed that what marked Indo-Portuguese architecture, was not merely an interaction between Goa and Portugal, but in fact an interaction by Goa with Europe. In this context then, the inspiration that Amsterdam’s canals and bridges provide to the Campal Creek project is a continuation of this longer tradition. Given that the project is being led by citizens from the generally more well-to-do area of Campal, the project continues another tradition, in this case the Dutch tradition where the canals of Amsterdam were the product of an active initiative of the Dutch elites of centuries past.

However, what we need to also remember that Amsterdam, and its pretty canals and bridges were not always this pretty. On the contrary, for a very, very long time, and until fairly recently, the canals of the city were receptacles for the city’s sewage. Indeed, it was only in 1987 that the last house to send its sewage into the canals was connected to a sewerage system. What is important to note then, is that the Amsterdam project, if one can put it that way, is a continuing one. What is also important to note, is that this project was not motivated by the possibility of gaining tourist visits to the city. Rather, it was motivated by making the city more livable, providing a better quality–of-life to its citizens. Thus, in addition to the joy rides that tourists may enjoy on the canals, and walking around the streets, the canals are also used as a source of regular transport for its citizens.

This location of the citizen, rather than the tourist, is important for us to bear in mind in the course of engaging not only with urban regeneration projects, but also the variety of heritage restoration projects that one sees around our State.

This observation holds particular importance in the context of the recent completion of the restoration of the Reis Magos fort. In the past few years there have been a number of restoration works that have been carried out on heritage buildings that are the property of the State. These include the Forts at Tiracol, Reis Magos, Santo Estevam, as well as the premises of the former Escola Medica.  A news report in the Times of India on May 31 pointed out that the Government does not seem to have a policy that would cover adaptive reuse of heritage structures that belong to the State. A number of people, especially those intimately involved with heritage conservation, make the argument for adaptive reuse, stressing at the same time the need for “revenue generation through cultural tourism”.  Regardless of whether it is linked to cultural tourism or not, what has to be recognized is that once the question of the decay of the monument has been addressed, the issue of generating resources for its upkeep become important.

The question however, is to inquire into the manner in which the resources for this requirement will be generated. This is where the question of choice, between placing the citizen or the tourist, at the heart of the project comes into being. Given the manner in which tourism is such a critical part of the Goan economy, all too often tourism, cultural or otherwise, becomes a focus of our options for adaptive reuse. In this context, the words of the Chief Minister are somewhat disturbing. He is reported to have indicated that “the fort would have to find a way to make itself commercially viable” indicating that "The government is good at building, not maintaining." It was perhaps under similar logic that the location of a mall-shopping arcade was contemplated within the refurbished Escola Medica.

We must recognize however, that such logic is indication of an abdication of the responsibilities of the State, creating the grounds for the privatization of public resources. The argument that this column would make, an argument that is perhaps not different from those others in the heritage conservation groups are also making, is that it is possible for the monument to address the local community first, and simultaneously also address the larger interests of cultural tourism in the State.

 

It is in this context that Amsterdam in particular, and Europe in general can be used as an interesting case to learn from. Social spending, in catering to the citizen, educating them, and opening cultural options for them, is what simultaneously generates the options for cultural tourism. It was not catering to the tourist that generated its prettiness, but catering to the citizen first. Even though the European economy is now in crisis, it must be pointed out that this crisis should not be used to suggest that the model of social spending was the problem. On the contrary, to use the words from The New Yorker “social democracy in Europe, embodied by its union, has been one of the greatest successes in history.” And further “A continent torn by the two most horrible wars in history achieved a remarkable half century of peace and prosperity, based on a marriage of liberalism properly so called (individual freedoms, including the entrepreneurial kind) and socialism rightly so ordered (as an equitable care for the common good). Any pleasure taken in the failure of Europe to expunge all its demons threatens to become one more way of not having to examine our own.”

This advice was given to the USA, however, we in India, with our elitist biases in the working of democracy would do well to take heed and find the governmental resources to support adaptive reuse the works to make refurbished monuments, locations for the edification and personal growth of our citizens. This would only work as a wise investment, creating citizens who would be able to spin more creative concepts than perhaps the less-challenged governmental departments in charge of tourism. Such an option need not necessarily preclude entrepreneurial intervention, but we must be clear that high-end malls and boutique hotels do not seem to constitute the kinds of projects that can meet this larger end, given that they actively exclude, even as they may generate some revenue for the State. What we must bear in mind however, is that these investments should be evaluated not merely for commercial viability, but from the kind of human-resource generation that they provide.

In welcoming the Reis Magos fort back to life, and wishing the Campal project a similar trajectory, perhaps we should also make space for the citizen at the centre of our plans, and not only the tourist.

(A version of this post was first published in the Gomantak Times 13 June 2012)