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CONTENTS
Vol. 16, No. 1: JanuaryMarch 1984
Jung-fang Tsai - The 1884 Hong Kong Insurrection:
Anti-Imperialist Popular Protest During the Sino-French War
Bryan Pfaffenberger - Fourth World Colonialism, Indigenous
Minorities, and Tamil Separatism in Sri Lanka
Gail Omvedt - The Tamil National Question
Social Studies Circle - Anti-Tamil Riots and the Political Crisis in
Sri Lanka
Ross Kidd and Mamunur Rashid - Theater by the People, for the
People, and of the People: Peoples Theater and Landless
Organizing in Bangladesh
Akmal Hussain - Land Reform in Pakistan: A Reconsideration
Joseph Tharamangalam - The Penetration of Capitalism and
Agrarian Change in Southwest India, 1901-1941
K. Gopinath - The State of Indias Environment 1982: A Citizens
Report by Anil Agarwal, Ravi Chopra, and Kalpana Sharma / A
Review
Elly Van Gelderen - Religion as Social Vision: The Movement
against Untouchability in 20th-Century Punjab, by Mark
Jurergensmeyer / A Review
Jonathan N. Lipman - Beautiful Merchandise: Prostitution in China,
1860-1936, by Sue Gronewald / A Review
A. D. Haun - The Chickencoop Chinaman and The Year of the
Dragon: Two Plays by Frank Chin / A Review
BCAS/Critical AsianStudies
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CCAS Statement of Purpose
Critical Asian Studies continues to be inspired by the statement of purpose
formulated in 1969 by its parent organization, the Committee of Concerned
Asian Scholars (CCAS). CCAS ceased to exist as an organization in 1979,
but the BCAS board decided in 1993 that the CCAS Statement of Purpose
should be published in our journal at least once a year.
We first came together in opposition to the brutal aggression of
the United States in Vietnam and to the complicity or silence of
our profession with regard to that policy. Those in the field of
Asian studies bear responsibility for the consequences of their
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concerned about the present unwillingness of specialists to speak
out against the implications of an Asian policy committed to en-
suring American domination of much of Asia. We reject the le-
gitimacy of this aim, and attempt to change this policy. We
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The Committee of Concerned Asian Scholars seeks to develop a
humane and knowledgeable understanding of Asian societies
and their efforts to maintain cultural integrity and to confront
such problems as poverty, oppression, and imperialism. We real-
ize that to be students of other peoples, we must first understand
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CCAS wishes to create alternatives to the prevailing trends in
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provider of central resources for local chapters, and a commu-
nity for the development of anti-imperialist research.
Passed, 2830 March 1969
Boston, Massachusetts
Vol. 16, No. I/Jan.-Mar., 1984
Contents
Jungjang Tsai
Bryan Pfaffenberger
GailOmvedt
Social Studies Circle
Ross Kidd and
Mamunur Rashid
Akmal Hussain
Joseph Tharamangalam
K. Gopinath
Elly van Gelderen
Jonathan N. Lipman
A. D.Haun
2
15
23
27
30
46
53
63
65
67
69
72
The 1884 Hong Kong Insurrection: Anti-Imperialist
Popular Protest During the Sino-French War
Fourth World Colonialism, Indigenous Minorities
and Tamil Separatism in Sri Lanka
The Tamil National Question
Anti-Tamil Riots and the Political
Crisis in Sri Lanka
Theatre by the People, for the People and
of the People: People's Theatre and
Landless Organizing in Bangladesh
Land Reform in Pakistan: A Reconsideration
The Penetration of Capitalism and Agrarian
Change in Southwest India, 1901 to 1941:
A Preliminary Analysis
The State ofIndia,s Environment 1982-A
Citizen's Report, by Anil Agarwal, Ravi Chopra
and Kalpana Sharma/review
Religion as Social Vision: The Movement against
Untouchability in 20th-Century Punjab, by
Mark Juergensmeyerl review
Beautiful Merchandise: Prostitution in China,
1860-1936, by Sue Gronewaldlreview
"The Chickencoop Chinaman" and "The Year of
the Dragon" : Two Plays, by Frank Chinlreview
Correspondence and List of Books to Review
Contributors
K. Gopinath: Stanford University, Stanford, California
A. D. Haun: Stanford University, Stanford, California
Akmal Hussain: Department of Administrative Science,
University of the Punjab, Lahore, Pakistan
Ross Kidd: Graduate student at the University of Toronto
and current co-ordinator of the International Popular Theatre
Alliance
Jonathan N. Lipman: Department of History, Mount
Holyoke College, South Hadley, Massachusetts
Gail Omvedt: Writer on India, Kasegaon, Maharashtra,
India
Bryan Pfaffenberger: Department of Sociology and Anthro
pology, Knox College, Galesburg, Illinois
Mamunur Rashid: Theatre performer, playwright, director
and popular theatre animateur with Aranyak theatre in
Bangladesh
Social Studies Circle: The Sri Lankan Worker-Peasant
Institute
Joseph Tharamangalam: Department of Sociology, Mount
Saint Vincent University, Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada
Jung-fang Tsai: Department of History, The College of
Charleston, Charleston, South Carolina
Elly van Gelderen: Westmount, Quebec, Canada
Cover graphics and drawings of popular theatre in Bangladesh by Carl Gaspar.
The 1884 Hong Kong Insurrection:
Anti-Imperialist Popular Protest
During the Sino-French War
by Jung-fang Tsai*
Preface
Despite the importance of Hong Kong as a place
where the Chinese bourgeoisie and proletariat had
emerged since the late nineteenth century to participate in
China's social and political movements, and from where
Western capital made its intrusion into the China main
land, the history of Hong Kong has been rather neglected
by the community of scholars. Monographic studies of the
Colony's history are so rare that some British authors'
books published decades ago are still considered the
authoritative, standard works on the subject. I Such works
were, moreover, written from the British colonists' per
spective which was so much oriented towards the West that
there was little room even for a discussion of the prominent
Chinese who had played important roles in the politics and
economy of the Chinese community in Hong Kong. This
was ironic because many of these Chinese were business
partners of the Europeans and economically tied to West
ern capital. Due to the Colony'S proximity to Guangdong,
they were often politically and economically connected
* I would like to express my deep appreciation to Dorothy Solinger of the
University of Pittsburgh, Tu-hsun Tsai of Lock Haven State College,
Pennsylvania, and especially the Bulletin's co-editor Bob Marks and anon
ymous referees for their very valuable suggestions and critical comments
on a draft of this article. I am, of course, solely responsible for any errors
in fact and interpretation that still remain. Peter Yeung of the Hong Kong
University Library, and Leslie Abrams and Sandy Stephens of the College
of Charleston Library have been most helpful in my acquisition of mate
rials; Dorothy Winchel typed the manuscript. I wish to express thanks to
all of them and to the College of Charleston for a sabbatical and a summer
grant that made possible my research trip to Hong Kong in 1980. This
article is part of my larger study entitled "Hong Kong in Chinese History:
A Study of Strikes, Riots and Boycotts, 1884-1914."
I. Such works include E.J. Eitel, Europe in China: The History o{Hong
Kongfrom the Beginning to the Year 1882. first published in Hong Kong in
1895; G.R. Sayer, Hong Kong: Birth. Adolescence and Coming of Age
(Oxford, 1973); Hong Kong 1862-1919: Years ofDiscretion (written in 1939,
published in 1975 by the Hong Kong University Press); G. B. Endacott, A
History of Hong Kong (Oxford, 1958; reprinted in 1974); and Government
and People in Hong Kong 1841-1962 (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University
Press, 1964; reprinted in 1975).
with Guangzhou as well. Relying on Western-oriented his
toriography, one would look in vain for adequate treat
ment of important personalities in the history of Hong
Kong and of Guangdong such as Li Dechang, He Yamei,
Shan Huafeng, Chen Luquan and Wu Xianzi, to name only
a few. If these prominent Chinese did not find a place in the
history of Hong Kong written from Western elitist views,
the Chinese populace feared even worse-they almost al
ways remained anonymous.
A history of Hong Kong viewed from the perspective
of the Chinese populace has yet to be written, but a begin
ning must be made. This paper is an attempt to analyze a
major event in the history of Hong Kong and of modem
China-the 1884 Hong Kong strike and riots-from such
perspective. The insurrection of 1884 is important because
it shed much light on the nature of British rule and social
tensions in the Colony. Furthermore, it demonstrated the
Hong Kong working people's capacity to become polit
ically activated in an anti-colonial and anti-imperialist
social protest in which early signs of popular solidarity and
incipient popular nationalism became visible for the first
time in the Colony'S history. A number of historical cir
cumstances converged and combined to cause the workers'
insurrection of 1884 in Hong Kong. But before investigat
ing these circumstances, let me make some preliminary
observations on Chinese workers and labor unrest in Hong
Kong prior to 1884 in order to put the events of that year
into historical context.
Chinese Workers and Labor Unrest Prior to 1884
There is a long history of popular disturbances in Hong
Kong. From time to time, workers' strikes broke out in
protest against various attempts of the colonial authorities
to regulate their lives and work. Such labor strikes as
occurred during the years prior to 1884 usually involved
only certain segments of the working class, struggling alone
to express their displeasure with the colonial government. 2
In 1862, for instance, the cargo boatmen struck in protest
against a colonial government ordinance requiring their
2
registration and regulation. Similarly, the sedan-chair
coolies staged a strike in 1863 in opposition to an ordinance
regulating and licensing public vehicles. Again, a strike of
cargo-carrying coolies broke out in 1872 on account of the
government attempt to levy fees on some unlicensed coolie
lodging houses. In 1883, a popular disturbance was created
by hawkers when police removed their stalls from thor
oughfares, and by ricksha coolies who were thrown out of
work due to the reduction of the number of ricksha li
censes. They posted placards, threatening an uprising
against the government and the European community. 3
The workers' ability to take collective action in strikes
points to the existence of organizations among workers of
different occupations. The Hong Kong authorities referred
to them as "guilds," "trade unions," or "secret associa
tions" which had long existed among the Chinese in the
Colony, and which were not confined to the artisans but
extended to every kind of employment. As these organiza
tions often used intimidation and extortion by means of
"fines" to enforce concerted action, an 1857 government
rule forbade such intimidation.
4
There was a strong tendency for workers from the
same native district on the mainland speaking the same
dialect to group together at work and live together in the
same dwellings or areas. Most chair coolies were Fulao
(Hoklos) speaking the Chaozhou (Chao-chou, Chiu Chau)
dialect.
s
In a report on sanitary conditions of Hong Kong
dated July 19, 1882, we find twenty-five chair coolies
lodged in the upper floor of a house in the Market Street,
having erected bunks to sleep on; the lower floor was
occupied by seven chairmakers who used it as a workshop
and dwelling. Similarly, the ground floors of a block of
buildings in the district of Taipingshan were mainly ten
anted by hawkers of vegetables, who washed their wares in
the alley, making the whole place "continually damp and
offensive."6 Many hawkers were from the district of Dong
guan and some from Siyi in the province of Guangdong.
7
Despite frequent feuds between these dialect groups, they
were able to take joint action in the disturbance of 1883
when their common interest was threatened by the colonial
authorities. Similarly, the cargo boatpeople, consisting of
Bendi (Punti Cantonese), Fulao and Kejia (Hakkas),
struck in 1862 and again in 1888 when they were compelled
2. The general strike of October 30, 1844, was not an exclusively Chinese
labor movement, for it involved the Chinese and European mercantile
communities as well in a general protest against an ordinance which
required all inhabitants to pay a poll-tax and register every year with the
Register General. The Europeans condemned the ordinance as "arbitrary
and unconstitutional." The Friend of China and Hongkong Gazette (2 No
vember 1844), p. 563.
3. China Mail (8 October 1963; 27 July, 3 August, 1872; 22 May 1883);
Hong Kong Daily Press (23 May 1883).
4. J. W. Norton-Kyshe, The History of the Laws and Courts ofHong Kong
(Hong Kong: Vetch and Lee Limited, 1898; reissued in 1971), Vol. 1, pp.
436-437.
5. Li Jinwei, Xianggang bainian shi (Centenary history of Hong Kong)
(Xianggang, 1948), p. 132; British Parliamentary Papers, Vol. 26: China
If prominent Chinese did not find a place in the
history of Hong Kong written from Western eUtist
views, the Chinese populace feared even worse
they almost always remained anonymous.
to carry a license with their photograph. 8
Cargo-carrying coolies of different dialect groups also
took joint action in their strike of 1872. As the cargo coolies
constituted the bulk of the working class in Hong Kong,
their strike naturally involved large numbers of coolies
(nearly 19,000 in 1872) and their organizations seemed
extremely complicated. A large number came from Dong
guan, but an even larger number from Siyi. The Dongguan
coolies lived in the coolie houses run by the Dong
guan housekeepers, and the Siyi coolies in those run by the
Siyi housekeepers. Some of these heads of the coolie
houses were landlords themselves, but others rented the
houses from absentee landlords who were often merchants.
Some absentee landlords were wealthy, "respectable"
merchants with important commercial interests who would
not "degrade" themselves by running the coolie houses.
When a coolie strike broke out which inevitably hurt their
commercial interest, the wealthy merchants (of whatever
dialect groups) would eagerly collaborate with the colonial
government to end the unrest by serving as intermediaries
in an attempt to bring about compromise settlement.
The cargo coolies' strike of 1872 was caused by the
government attempt to supervise coolie houses and to levy
a license fee on the coolie housekeepers of five dollars per
annum for every ten men boarded. Unwilling to pay such
fees, the housekeepers incited the coolies to strike by in
forming them that the government would levy a poll tax of
fifty cents on each coolie. As a labor broker and head of the
house of a dialect group of coolies living together for
mutual aid and protection, the housekeeper exercised
great power and authority over his coolie boarders who
relied on him for seeking employment at various jobs at the
docks and wharves, often in competition with coolies of
other dialect groups.
The coolie houses varied in size, all very crowded. In
one instance, 428 people lived in a row of eight small
houses, having but 230 cubic feet space per head. In other
instances, it was not unusual for more than a hundred
coolies to crowd into a lodging house. Coolies had their
headmen who seemed to work closely with the house
,
keeper. When coolies desired a pay raise from their em
ploying commercial firms, they would go through their
head coolie, or in other cases, through a comprador. When
on strike, the head coolie often had funds to provide his I
coolies with rice money to keep them on strike. Coordinat
ing general matters related to the working people from the
I
same native places were guild associations, which did not
(Shannon: Irish University Press, 1971), p. 99.
6. British Parliamentary Papers. Vol. 26, p. 128.
7. China Mail (13 March 1894). Siyi consisted of the four districts of
Kaiping, Xinning (Taishan), Xinhui and Enping. 8. British Parliamentary Papers, Vol. 26, p. 325.
3
kowloon \
.....fiJ
Lz., .
--' \\1>-,\'0.< U/
1-----1------+---'"'--11 "3
i
Map by author
seem to be exclusively working class organizations, for
small merchants and coolie housekeepers often joined and
dominated the guilds. There was a "Siyi guild," for in
stance, with an accountant serving as its manager.
9
Other important associations of the working people in
Hong Kong were the Triad societies. The Triads were
organized around dialect and native place principles-in
some lodges the members were chiefly Bendi, and in
others, Fulao or Kejia.
lo
The Triads were mostly confined
to the lower classes of the Chinese population. As the
Police Inspector William Quincy pointed out, there was no
reason to believe that richer members of the Chinese com
9. The descriptions of the cargo coolies and their organizations are de
rived from China Mail (27, 29, 30 July, 3 August 1872; 13, 19 March 1894;
29, 30 March, 1,4 April 1895); Hong Kong Daily Press (13 March 1894);
British Parliamentary Papers. Vol. 26, p. 128; and Deng Zhongxia, Zhong
guo zhigong yundong jianshi (A brief history of labor in China) (Beijing:
Jenmin chubanshe, 1957), pp. 2-3, 50.
10. William Stanton, The Triad Society or Heaven and Earth Association
(Hong Kong: Kelly and Walsh, Ltd., 1900), pp. 26-28.
munity were connected with the Triad societies. II The
Triads permeated the guild associations of the cargo
coolies, boatmen, hawkers and chair coolies. The Triads
often became politically active in times of strike and popu
lar disturbances.
The working people of Hong Kong thus had organiza
tions-occupational guild associations and Triad societies,
both of which were organized largely around dialect and
native place principles-through which to pursue their
interests. The history of Hong Kong's working people be
fore 1884, though reveals a parochialism-rivalry and hos
tility between different dialect groups and lack of coopera
tion between different occupational groups-that stood in
the way of working class solidarity. But labor unrest up to
the 1880s also demonstrated that there were occasions
when such obstacles could be overcome. When their com
mon interest was threatened by the colonial authorities, the
11. Colonial Office Archives 129/227, #13330, enclosure 1 in Marsh to
Granville, no. 204, 15 June 1886, p. 321. Hereafter referred to as CO.
4
Map courtesy of Jung-fang Tsai
Map of Shanghuan today
different dialect groups among workers of the same occu
pation had joined forces to engage in strikes. Under certain
historical circumstances, such as those that came together
in 1884, a popular movement could develop, involving
practically all working people in Hong Kong in a nearly
general strike.
The Strike and Riots of 1884
During the Sino-French War (1884-85), a wave of
antiforeignism swept the southern provinces of China from
Zhejiang to Yunnan.
12
Hong Kong was not immune to
such anti-imperialist patriotic movements. 1 J From Septem
12. See Shi Manyu, "Majiang fengyun-yibabasi-nian Fuzhou renmin
fankang Faguo qinlue di douzheng" (Majiang events-the 1884 Fuzhou
people's struggle against the French invaders), Fujian shida xuebao no. 3
(1978); Lin Qiquan, "Shijiu shiji mo Taiwan tongbao fandui Faguo wu
zhuang qinlue di douzheng" (The struggle of the Taiwan compatriots
against French military invasion in the late nineteenth century), Xiamen
daxue xuebao no. 1 (1978); Lloyd Eastman, "The Kwangtung Anti-foreign
Disturbances during the Sino-French War," Papers on China (Cambridge:
Harvard University, East Asia Center, 1959), Vol. 13; Li Mingren, "Yiba
basi-nian Xianggang bagong yundong" (The 1884 Hong Kong strike
movement), Lishi Yanjiu no. 3 (1958); and Odette Merlat, "En Marge de
L'Expedition du Tonkin, Les Emeutes de Ouen-Tcheou et de Hong
Kong," Revue Historique (Octobre-Decembre, 1956).
13. The following description of the strike and riots in Hong Kong is
derived from China Mail, 26,30 September, 1,3,4,6 October 1884, and
Hong Kong Daily Press, 4,15,19 September, 3, 4, 6, 7 October 1884.
ber 3 on, Chinese dock workers in the Hong Kong ship
yards refused to do any work for the French vessels that had
taken part in the attacks on such places as Fuzhou and were
now in Hong Kong for repairs. By September 25, the cargo
boat people were following the example of the dock work
ers. A French merchant named Francies Vincenot had four
cattle to send on board a French warship, but tried in vain
to engage cargo boats to do the work. The following day,
two boat women were fined five dollars each by the magis
trate for refusing to accept employment without sufficient
reason. Eight more boat people were fined five dollars each
on September 29 on similar charges.
Infuriated by the fines, nearly all cargo boat people
staged a strike on September 30, and all work of loading
and unloading cargo in the harbor came to a halt. Cargo
carrying coolies on shore joined the strike. Most boat
people went away with their boats to Youmadi or Kowloon
on the other side of the harbor, with only a few boats
remaining at their moorings off the Praya West, In the
afternoon a crowd of nearly a thousand had assembled on
the Praya, many of whom began to stone and drive away
the few remaining cargo boats and the passenger boats,
Although the police soon arrived to restore order and
disperse the crowd, the harbor came to a standstill, A night
meeting of the boating community was held at Youmadi to
decide their future action, And a Chinese notice was posted
on the wall of the French merchant Francis Vincenot's store
on the Praya Central, which intimated that the prem
5
ises would be blown up, warning the Chinese employees to
leave.
The strike continued on October 1 and 2. The boat
people demanded liberty to refuse to work for the French
without liability to penalty. But forced by the necessity of
earning a living, many cargo boat people returned to the
Praya West early on the morning of October 3 intending to
resume working (though still not for the French vessels).
They had scarcely got ready to work when they were as
sailed by an angry crowd of coolies, who drove them off
again with showers of stones and bricks. The police rushed
to restore order, but shortly before eight a.m. cargo coolies
went to the principal thoroughfares in the Western or Chi
nese part of the town to compel the jinricksha and chair
coolies to do no work for foreigners. On the way, the crowd
began to attack Westerners seen in the streets. European
officers were also assailed, and the police fired into the
crowd. One dead coolie was found lying in the street; the
wounded were probably carried off by their friends. A
number of wounded policemen were sent to the Civil Hos
pital. The police made a number ofarrests, and by noon the
riots had subsided.
The history of Hong Kong's working people be
fore 1884, though, reveals a parochialism
rivalry and hostility between dift'erent dialect
groups and lack of cooperation between different
occupational groups-that stood in the way of
working class solidarity. But labor unrest up to
the 1880s also demonstrated that there were occa
sions when such obstacles could be overcome.
. The feeling against foreigners in general and the police in
particular was very strong. The French Convent had the
greatest difficulty in getting food, the Chinese being unwill
ing or afraid to supply them.
At noon the following day, October 5, Chinese emp
loyees of Messrs. Butterfield and Swire visited Youmadi
and asked their own boat people to return to work. With
assurance of police and troop protection, large numbers of
cargo boats and sampans shortly after noon returned to the
Praya to work. Some stones were thrown at the boats, but
after six or seven stone throwers were arrested, things
remained quiet along the Praya West, though the cargo
coolies ashore still remained on strike. Meantime, about
five hundred coolies, some armed with bamboo sticks,
gathered in Wanzi (Wanchai) in the Eastern district to
intimidate the coal and cargo coolies working for Rongji
(Wing Kee), a ship comprador providing coal for foreign
vessels. The policemen quickly arrived to disperse the
crowd; two men were arrested.
But a large crowd assembled on the Recreation
Ground around eight p.m. Jeering and shouting, they
threw stones at the police. Hawkers and their stalls got
mixed up together. Eventually quiet was restored; three
men were arrested. By October 6, the strike and riots were
practically over. Though the cargo boat people did not get
any guarantee from the authorities that they would not be
called upon to work for the French, they seemed deter
mined not to do so. Order had been restored for the time
being.
Thus, unlike prior labor strikes which had involved
only certain occupational groups of workers, the strike in
1884 spread beyond earlier parochial boundaries and cut
across both occupational and dialect lines to include prac
tically all sectors of Hong Kong's working population. This
was a significant difference. Why did this happen?
Meanwhile, the British military authorities had sent
two companies of troops to the scene of the disturbance.
With fixed bayonets, their presence did much to overawe
the crowd, which soon was broken up and dispersed from
the Queen's Road West. But a number of placards were
posted about, announcing that the town was to be set on
fire in three places at night. The police took precaution to
seize all dynamite that could be found in the hands of the
Chinese shopkeepers in Queen's Road West. A hundred
troops marched to the Donghua (Tung Wah) Hospital at
eight p.m. to be quartered in its buildings situated in a
district densely inhabited by the Chinese. Police and troops
patrolled the streets at night, while the Water Police looked
after the harbor. The night passed without disturbance.
On the following day, October 4, street coolies, arti
sans, and workmen of all descriptions knocked off work
generally. The rice pounders and coal men too joined in a
nearly general strike. The butchers, having been threat
ened by the activists while driving their bullocks to the
slaughter house, also intended to join in the strike; but
when assured police protection, they went back to work.
The chair and jinricksha coolies resumed working in all but
the most disturbed parts in the Western district. However,
many of them were violently interfered with by the crowd.
Sporadic pelting of the Europeans in the streets continued.
Circumstances of the Strike and Riots
The disturbances in 1884 were complex in nature. A
number of causes and historical circumstances converged
to bring about the strike and riots. One precipitating factor
was Guangzhou mandarin proclamations exhorting the
people along the coast to patriotism and warning them
against working for the French enemy. Fear of mandarin
retaliation was one of the factors that caused many people
to refuse to work for the French in early September. The
mandarins intended to encourage the Hong Kong Chinese
to refuse to work for the French, but not to engage in a
general strike or to riot.
These proclamations struck a responsive chord, for
French attacks and threat of attack on various points along
the China coast provoked an anti-French patriotic feeling
among all classes of people in Hong Kong, including the
working people. This reinforced their determination not to
work for the French. But when the working people ofHong
Kong refused to work for a French merchant, the colonial
authorities stepped in to frustrate their efforts. The Hong
Kong government prosecuted the Chinese newspaper
editors in the Colony for publishing mandarin proclama
tions exhorting people to patriotism, and the Hong Kong
magistrates imposed fines on ten boat people who refused
to work for the French enemy. This was an important
6
precipitating factor that set off the strike of the boat people
and other workers. So, by late September the workers had
not only refused to work for the French but indeed struck
all work in protest against the colonial authorities' repres
sive measures. In fact, such measures had inflamed the
people's initial anti-French patriotic sentiment into a larger
movement of anti-colonialism and anti-imperialism. Riots
broke out against Westerners seen in the streets.
All of this occurred in a social context of general
poverty and misery among the working people. The strike
then spread to all sectors of the working population be
cause large numbers felt the same threat of a fine of five
dollars which would deprive many of a whole month's
earnings. But the working poor were organized to act.
The strike and riots were led by occupational guild
associations (directed by head boatmen, head cargo
coolies, or coolie housekeepers) as well as the Triad soci
eties. The Triads, who permeated the working population
of all occupational and dialect groups, engaged in a wide
variety of acts, ranging from petty crimes to patriotic
actions against foreign imperialism. The Guangzhou man
darin authorities sought to enlist the Triads to fight against
France by promising them material rewards and by appeal
ing to their anti-imperialist patriotism at the same time. But
not all actions of the Triad activists were sanctioned by the
Guangzhou authorities. Just as in many strikes in other
places and times, the activists attempted to enforce strike
solidarity and concerted action by using coercion and in
timidation against refractory elements among the working
people who, compelled by the necessity to earn a living,
wanted to return to work.
If anti-French patriotic sentiment was prevalent
among all classes of Chinese in Hong Kong, why then
didn't Hong Kong's Chinese bourgeoisie lead the popular
protest movement? There were two reasons. First, with
strong economic ties to Western capital, they desired law
and order in the Colony; second, while believing in "elitist
nationalism" (that is, loyalty to the nation under an elit
ist leadership that would engage in peaceful reforms to
enrich and strengthen the nation), the bourgeoisie dis
trusted and disapproved of strikes and riots as expressions
of patriotism. For these reasons, the bourgeois elite was
eager to collaborate with the colonial authorities and to
serve as mediators in an effort to help restore law and order
to the Colony.
In order to adequately explain the origins and signifi
cance of the 1884 insurrection, we must take all of these
causes and circumstances into consideration; otherwise, we
would produce only a fragmentary and incomplete account
of that historic event. Let us analyze these causes and
circumstances in more detail.
Mandarin Proclamations
The factors contributing to the unrest include the Sino
French war and the proclamations of the Guangzhou man
darin authorities exhorting the people in south China to
patriotism. On August 30, 1884, one such proclamation
was issued jointly by Peng Yulin, Zhang Shusheng, Zhang
Zhidong and Ni Wenwei, offering high rewards of money
and official ranks to any Chinese who killed French officers
or soldiers or who captured French ships.14 Two more
proclamations of September 15 forbid Chinese along the
coast to repair French ships or to be enlisted as soldiers by
the French. They called upon the Chinese people to "com
prehend the distinction between China and a foreign coun
try, and show a devoted regard for your fatherland." The
proclamations also declared that traitors, when caught,
would be given the death penalty and their relatives
punished. 15
The publication of these proclamations in Hong Kong
native papers worked the people up to a state of great
excitement. In response to British diplomatic protest
against such proclamations, Viceroy Zhang Zhidong as
serted that these were intended to induce the Chinese along
the coast and in Southeast Asia to proceed to Tonkin,
Fujian and Guangdong to assist the Chinese troops against
the French, and to exhort the people not to assist or work
for the French, rather than to incite them to make disturb
ances in the British colonies. 16
The Hong Kong Daily Press maintained that the boat
people's refusal to work for the French was due to fear of
punishment and retaliation by the mandarins. Such fear
was indeed a factor that helps to explain why any working
people initially refused to work for the French, but this
factor alone cannot explain the persistent strike. In fact,
the strike broke out on September 30 only after ten boat
people were fined by the colonial authorities for refusing to
work for the French. Neither can fear of mandarins explain
the excitement and fury of the riots lasting from September
30 to October 5 which arose from a combination of several
factors noted earlier, especially frustrated patriotic senti
ment and popular resentment against the colonial author
ities' repressive measures.
If fear of mandarin retaliation was a factor accounting
for workers' refusal to work for the French, the anti-French
patriotic sentiment among the populace was aroused by the
French attacks and threat of attack on various points along
the China coast. This sentiment reinforced many working
people's determination not to work for the French. The
Hong Kong Daily Press testified that there was a "consider
able amount of feeling and enmity" against the French. 17
The mandarin proclamations also exhorted the people
to patriotism and encouraged them to kill French officers
orf soldiers. The colonial government had warned the
Hong Kong native newspapers that publication of such
mandarin proclamations was illegal. On September 25,
14. CO 129/219, #20728; Foreign Office to Colonial Office, December 3,
1884, pp. 338-340; Lloyd Eastman, "The Kwangtung Antiforeign Dis
turbances during the Sino-French War," pp. 13, 14, 19, 20-21; Zhang
Zhidong, Zhang Wenxiang-gong quanji (Complete works of Zhang Zhi
dong) (Taibei: Wenhai Publishing Company, 1963), juan 119, pp. 11-13.
Peng Yulin and Zhang Shusheng were Imperial Commissioners for the
Coast Defences (the latter was formerly Governor-General of Guangdong
and Guangxi), Zhang Zhidong was Governor-General of Guangdong and
Guangxi, and Ni Wenwei was Governor of Guangdong.
15. Zhang Wenxiang-gong quanji, juan 119, pp. 16-17.
16. Qingji waijiao shi/iao (Sources in diplomatic history of the Qing
dynasty) (Taibei: Wenhai Publishing Company reprint, 1964), juan 47,
pp. 10,18; Zhang Wenxiang-gongquanji, juan 73, pp. 6-7; juan 122, pp. 4-5;
CO 129/217, #20082, Marsh to Derby, #350, 20 October 1884, enclosure
2, pp. 542-543; and CO 129/219, #21297, British Foreign Office to CO, 13
December 1884, enclosure 2, p. 363.
17. Hong Kong Daily Press, 23 October 1884.
7
criminal proceedings were taken against the editors of four
papers,18 who were charged with encouraging readers to
commit murder. The Hong Kong Administrator W.H.
Marsh reported back to London that there was "a consider
able amount of ill feeling towards the French on the part of
the Chinese of all classes in this Colony," and that the
"institution of criminal proceedings against these Chinese
newspapers will be viewed no doubt with great dissatisfac
tion by the Chinese community." Still, the Hong Kong
authorities considered it "absolutely necessary to stop the
publication" of such "inflammatory" articles. 19
But, if the criminal proceedings silenced the Chinese
newspaper editors, they did not dispel Chinese patriotism
which was already aroused by the French war of aggression
against the Chinese and fanned by Guangzhou authorities.
Fighting a war against France, the mandarins sought to
explore all possible means that could help defeat the
enemy, including making an extraordinary move to co-opt
the Triads by promising them material rewards and by
appealing to their anti-imperialist patriotism at the same
time. But in the process of collaborating with the manda
rins, the Triads came to play an important role in the Hong
Kong strike and riots which was unintended by the
mandarins.
Mandarins and Triads
According to Hong Kong police intelligence, emis
saries from the Guangzhou government had interviewed
some Triads and promised them pardon for all past of
fenses if they would go to Guangzhou and enlist to fight
against the French. About a hundred of them were re
ported to have gone on October 6. Other Triads in the
Colony were encouraged by such promises, not only of
pardon but also of large rewards, to do everything in their
power to injure and destroy French war-ships in the Hong
Kong harbor. 20
A Chinese detective sergeant working for the Hong
Kong police testified to the connection between the Triads
and the Guangzhou authorities as follows: through the
arrangement ofAha and Ayik (two informers secretly serv
ing the Hong Kong police), the Chinese Imperial Commis
sioner of War Peng Yulin interviewed thirteen Triad mem
bers, including some leaders named You Put-in (Pit-yin)
and Li A-un (nicknamed Ngan Nga-un). "What the Chi
nese authorities wish these men to do is to set fire to French
ships and to find out what houses are supplying the French
with provisions. The Chinese government does not wish to
harm Hong Kong. But the Triads wish to stir up trouble in
the Colony in order to enrich themselves. They stirred up
18. The four newspapers were Huzai ribao (Wa Tse Yat Po), Xunhuan
ribao (Ts'un Wan Yat Po), Zhongwai xinbao (Chung Ngoi San Po), and
Weixin ribao (Wai San Yat Po). Of these, only Huazi ribao (after 1894) is
known to be available for researchers, the rest being destroyed during the
Japanese occupation of Hong Kong in World War II.
19. CO 129/217, #18738, Marsh to Derby, No. 336,25 September 1884,
pp. 379-382. In the absence of Governor George Bowen who was visiting
Japan at the time, the Colonial Secretary W. H. Marsh administered the
Hong Kong Government.
20. CO 129/217, #19555, Marsh to Derby, no. 340, 6 October 1884, pp.
426-427.
the boat-people in order that they might benefit them
selves. . . . The strike arose on account of the fines."
Moreover, "many of the boat-people are members of the
Triad Society and are much enraged against the French for
attacking their country without reason. They consulted
together, and agreed to strike. Ngan Nga-un gave the
order."21
One can derive from this informative testimony sev
eral factors that combined to cause the strike and riots. The
Triads collaborated with mandarins to discourage the
Hong Kong Chinese from working for the French; the
Triads wished to stir up trouble in a hope to seek benefit
and profit from it; at the same time, many boat people were
Triad members who were imbued with an anti-French
patriotic sentiment and were "much enraged against the
French for attacking their country without reason"; so, the
boat people refused to work for the French, and this led to
their being fined by the colonial authorities. Infuriated by
such fines, the boat people and other working people struck
work altogether.
Ifsome Triads were in league with Chinese officialdom
against France, they remained quite independent and not
all of their actions were sanctioned by the Guangzhou
authorities. The Triads played an important role as in
stigators and activists in the strike and riots which the
Guangzhou authorities had not intended. As a matter of
fact, the mandarins had a number of reasons to desire
peace and order in the Colony. They heavily relied on
Hong Kong banking institutions for loans to finance the
war against France-a total of 9,144,762 taels from 1883 to
1885.
22
Moreover, they relied on Hong Kong for importing
a large amount of weapons and munitions ordered from
abroad.
23
It was, therefore, most unlikely that they would
incite strikes and riots in Hong Kong at risk of antagonizing
British authorities and disturbing peaceful trade in the
Colony.
Although the Triad activists played important roles in
instigating the disturbances, one should not be tempted to
attribute the strike and riots solely to the "criminal"
Triads. The reality was considerably more complex. First,
the Triads had always been active in contradictory ways in
Hong Kong since the early 1840s, not in 1884 alone. Sec
ond, the Triads had no unified command; rather, they split
into various independent branches and factions which fre
quently opposed each other in fighting and litigation.
Third, the Triads permeated all occupational and dialect
groups of the working population. Large numbers of boat
people, cargo coolies, coal coolies, the leaders of these
coolies, and coolie housekeepers were Triad members. It
was these head coolies, coolie housekeepers and other
Triads who acted as leaders of the strike and riots. In an
instance cited above, a coolie housekeeper was the head of
21. CO 129/217, #19557, enclosure 2 in Marsh to Derby, no. 342, 11
October 1884, pp. 480-482.
22. Xu Yisheng, "Jiawu Zhong-Ri zhangzheng qian Oing zhengfu de
waizhai" (The foreign debt of the Oing government prior to the 1894
Sino-Japanese War), Jingji yanjiu, no. 5 (1956), pp. 112-U5; Zhang
Wenxiang-gong quanji. juan 73, pp. 16-17,25-26; juan 12, pp. 27-29; juan
122, pp. 1, 19,34.
23. Zhang Wenxiang-gong quanji. juan 122, p. 33.
8
the house of one of the dialect groups of cargo coolies living
together for mutual aid and protection. He acted as a
leader of the strike on behalf of the coolie-boarders of his
house who demanded the right to refuse to work for the
French without being subject to fines by the colonial
authorities.
The mobilization of the working people in the strike
and riots against the French and against the colonial
authorities requires more explanation than Triad instiga
tion and intimidation. It was only when there was already a
solid social basis of popular resentment against the colonial
authorities that the Triad activists could successfully insti
gate a disturbance. A major source of popular discontent
was the poverty and misery of the coolie class. As the Hong
Kong English press admitted, coolies were forced by pov
erty to live "in places where you would not stable horses in
England. . . . Cathedrals, Churches, Chapels, Missions,
are a mockery in the midst of the squalid, filthy, crowded
houses and narrow streets of this Colony"; it was "a dis
grace to humanity. "24 Poverty and misery spawned social
discontent and provided a general social context conducive
to the unrest.
Again, it is important to note that the Triads were
capable of a wide variety of acts, ranging from petty crimes
to political revolution. They constantly threatened the
Manzhou (Manchu) government and reacted strongly to
foreign imperialism. While their criminal actions alienated
them from the populace, on other occasions their patriotic
motivation gave them popular sUpport.
25
During the Sino
French War, some of them worked in alliance with the
Chinese officials against the nation's enemy, thereby gain
ing a favorable opportunity for extending their power in
Hong Kong. They not only took an active part in the strike
and riots of 1884, gaining popular support in Hong Kong,
but also established connections with the authorities in
Guangzhou.
The Chinese Bourgeois Elite
Due to racial tensions, many Europeans suspected
that some "leading Chinese residents" were directing the
rioters, but this was unsubstantiated. As the Hong Kong
Administrator W. H. Marsh pointed out, elite Chinese had
"themselves been considerable sufferers from the general
interruption to work. "26 In fact, with economic ties to
foreign capital in the Colony, members of the Chinese elite
were eager to collaborate with the Hong Kong government
in an attempt to put an end to the disturbances. When the
government decided on October 3 that British troops
should be called in to be quartered in the Chinese part of
the town, the Donghua (Tung Wah) Hospital Committee
at once placed their large hall at the disposal of the troops.
Because the Donghua Committee assumed and enjoyed
special elite status in the Chinese community, quartering
British troops in a Donghua building was particularly sig
24. China Mail. 15 December 1896.
25. W. P. Morgan, Triad Societies in Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Government
Press, 1960), p. 65.
26. CO 129/217, #19555, Marsh to Derby, no. 340, 6 October 1884, p.
426.
nificant, for it dramatized the collaboration between
Chinese commercial elites and British authorities in a com
mon effort to suppress the popular unrest.
The "respectable Chinese merchants" endeavored to
exert their influence to bring an end to the strike and riots.
On October 4, Li Dechang and He Yamei "summoned"
the heads of the boat-people and coolies to attend a meet-
The events of 1884 illustrated thai, with their
economic ties to foreign capitalism, the various
factions of the Chinese elite were all eager to
collaborate with the colonial authorities in put
ting an end to popular disturbance.
ing of the Nanbeihang (Nan Pak Hong) merchants. They
also invited Acting Colonial Secretary Frederick Stewart to
attend, with a view to addressing the heads of the striking
boat-people and coolies. Li Dechang suggested that he
would have been glad if Stewart would give coolies and
boat-people an assurance that they would not be called on
by the government to work for the French. Stewart refused
to attend and to give such assurance, because, by comply
ing, it would have meant giving official recognition to the
Chinese merchants' assumption of political and govern
mental power. The meeting was held without Stewart.
27
About twenty merchants were present who promised the
striking coolies and boat people that endeavors would be
made to induce the colonial authorities to forgive them and
remit the fines. The heads of the coolie houses in return
promised to end the strike and resume work. 28
Such was the effort made by some elite Chinese to
terminate the strike. When the Acting Registrar General S.
Lockhart on October 4 called a meeting of native Justices
of the Peace and naturalized British subjects to discuss the
ways to restore order in the Colony, arrangement was also
made for Li Dechang and his friends to attend. The native
Justices and their associates arrived at 3 p.m. at the Gov
ernment Offices to express their views on the situation.
They thought that the Hong Kong Government Admini
strator should issue another proclamation. Liang An (com
prador of Messrs. Gibb Livingston and Company, and one
of the original founders of the Donghua Hospital) was
deputed to draft such a proclamation, which would contain
words to the effect that "the government, on the interces
sion of the merchants," had pardoned the rioters, who
should therefore resume their work. The Acting Colonial
Secretary Frederick Stewart objected to these words, be
cause they would imply official recognition of Chinese
merchants' political power and influence. 29
27. Ibid., pp. 434-435.
28. CO 129/217, #19957, Marsh to Derby, no. 342, pp. 482-483.
29. CO 129/217, #19555, Marsh to Derby, no. 340,6 October 1884, pp.
434-438.
9
The next point they discussed was the need to arrest
and banish "bad characters" who had instigated the riots.
While this subject was under consideration, Li Dechang
and a number of his friends arrived. To the British officials'
surprise, the native Justices and their associates left the
Council Chamber. Liang An, who remained, proposed
that troops should be removed from the Donghua Hospital
hall, that the Donghua Directors and their friends should
hold a public meeting, after which someone would address
the crowd to be assembled at the Hospital gates to induce
them to end the strike. Again, Frederick Stewart objected,
saying that political matters did not in any way concern the
Donghua Directors, and that the collecting of a crowd in
time of disturbances was undesirable. When it was pro
posed to issue a proclamation in the name of the Donghua
Directorate, Stewart strongly objected, stating that it
"would amount to an abdication on the part of the govern
ment and the assumption of governmental power by the
Corporation. "30
Then, Un Sing-ts'iin (a merchant of the Tsun Ch'eung
Hong) made a speech which made sense to the British
authorities. He said "that this was no matter for Corpora
tion or Guild, that it was the duty of all loyal citizens to
cooperate with the government in restoring order and
terminating the strike, and that each person present in his
ware-house, his shop, or his household should individually
do his utmost to assist the efforts of the government." It
was agreed to issue street notices to induce the people to
resume work.
31
The two meetings described above revealed at least
three things. First, when the lower-class Chinese were in
revolt, the ambivalence of the British attitude towards the
Chinese elite became all the more apparent. The British
authorities desired the advice and collaboration of the
Chinese elite in restoring law and order, yet due to racial
tensions, they were also apprehensive of the Chinese elite's
pretension to political power and influence over the Chi
nese community. Ultimately common economic interest
prevailed over racial consideration as the major factor in
determining their actions-the Chinese elite and British
authorities collaborated in a common effort to put an end
to the Chinese popular disturbance.
Second, while collaborating with the colonial govern
ment, the Chinese elite also wished to pose as friends of the
lower-class strikers and rioters by requesting the govern
ment to proclaim that the rioters were pardoned in conse
quence of the elite's representations. But the British
authorities were sure of one thing-it was the British, and
not the Chinese elite, that ruled the Colony.
The vacillation of the Chinese elite in its relations with
the colonial government is not difficult to understand-it
reflected the predicament of thosewho served as inter
mediaries between the Chinese populace and the colonial
government. In order to win the confidence off the colonial
government and to end the disturbances that hurt their
commercial interest, the elite had to collaborate with the
government and give it advice regarding the arrest of "bad
30. Ibid.
31. Ibid.; China Mail. 6 October 1884.
characters" and the stationing of troops in the Donghua
buildings. On the other hand, in order to obtain the trust of
the populace and retain their "legitimate" position as com
munity leaders, the elite was obliged to demonstrate their
concern and consideration for the desires of the populace
and to convey these desires to the government. If they
succeeded in persuading the government to proclaim that
the rioters were pardoned because of the elite's representa
tions, the elite's political influence as community leaders
would be greatly enhanced. It was precisely this political
influence that the suspicious colonial government tried to
discourage and avert, while at the same time the govern
ment paradoxically sought to ask elite groups to use their
influence to help end the unrest. Thus, the events of 1884
reveal the ambivalent relations between the Chinese elite
and the colonial government in Hong Kong.
Rivalry between the Elite Factions
The elite's meetings described above also revealed
that there were tensions between different factions of the
Chinese elite in the Colony: Li Dechang, He Yamei and
their friends versus Chinese Justices of the Peace.
32
All
Chinese Justices of the Peace were naturalized British
subjects from the commercial bourgeoisie which was tied to
foreign commercial interest; four out of the seven were
compradors to foreign companies. Their appointment by
the Colonial government as Justices charged with the
responsibility of maintaining peace and order in the Colony
indicated that they were the Chinese gentlemen most
trusted and favored by the British authorities. It is
significant that two of them were Fulao (Fukienese) who,
together with their Bendi (Cantonese) colleagues,
collaborated with the British authorities to help keep law
and order. For the bulk of the Chinese bourgeoisie in the
highly commercial city of Hong Kong, economic interest
often seemed to transcend differences in regional, national
and ethnic backgrounds as the major factor conditioning
their actions in times of popular unrest. 33 In the meantime,
32. There were seven Chinese Justices of the Peace-Chen Guanyi,
Huang Shedai, Cai Ziwei (a Fulao), Hu Lianyuan (a Fulao), Lu Shoutian,
Wei Yu, and He Oi (Ho Kai). For some ofthem, seeCarI Smith, "English
Educated Chinese Elites in Nineteenth-Century Hong Kong," Hong
Kong. the Interaction of Traditions and Life in Towns (Hong Kong: Hong
Kong Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, 1975), pp. 85-86. I am indebted
to Rev. Carl Smith of the Chinese University of Hong Kong for making
this article available to me. For He Oi, see G.H. Choa, The Life and Times
of Sir Kai Ho Kai (Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press, 1981);
Ling-yeong Chiu, "The Debate on National Salvation: Ho Kai vs. Tseng
Chi-tse," Journal of the Hong Kong Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 11
(1971); Jung-fang Tsai, "Syncretism in the Reformist Thought ofHo Kai
(1859-1914) and Hu Li-yuan (1847-1916)," Asian Profile (Feb. 1978), pp.
19-33; and Jung-fang Tsai, ''The Predicament of the Comprador Ideolo
gists: He Oi (1859-1914) and Hu Liyuan (1847-1916)," Modern China
(April 1981), pp. 191-225.
33. Patriotic protest against foreign imperialism was not confined to the
"lower" class Chinese, though they constituted the major force in the
strike and riots. Viceroy Zhang Zhidong's informers in Hong Kong re
ported to him that shopkeepers and their employees in the Western
district closed their shops to join the strike; see Zhang Wenxiang-gong
quanji. juan 73, pp. 6-7. But after three days of riots, many shopkeepers,
merchants and property owners were getting impatient with the tumult. A
meeting of the "jiefang" (kaifong) leaders (Le., street neighborhood
"notables") of the whole Colony was held which resolved to issue notice to
10
racial and national consciousness remained an important
factor of life among the Chinese bourgeoisie, and the
degree of ethnic feeling among them generally varied
according to the individual's social relations with the
colonial authorities.
Among the elite faction surrounding Li Dechang,
ethnic feeling was strong, and yet economic interest still
outweighed ethnic consideration in dictating their actions
during the popular unrest of 1884. Members of this faction
also came from a commercial bourgeois background with
economic ties to Western capital,34 and they too
collaborated with British authorities in a common effort to
restore law and order to the Colony. Essentially, the two
rival elite factions were competing with each other for
political influence with the Chinese community and with
the colonial authorities. In comparison with He Qi and the
other naturalized British subjects who were appointed as
Justices, Li Dechang and He Yamei did not find as much
personal favor with the Colonial authorities. In fact, they
had not forgotten that only in 1882 their application on
behalf of the Wa Hop Telegraph Company for permission
to lay cable from Kowloon to Hong Kong was rejected by
the British authorities on ethnic grounds-a Chinese
company controlling the telegraphic communication
"might under certain circumstances be a source of serious
danger."35 Consequently, Li Dechang and He Yamei
could not help bearing a grudge against the British
authorities.
The European community, in return, was suspicious
of Li Dechang and He Yamei due to their connection with
the Chinese officialdom in Guangzhou-they had been
involved with the circulation of copies of mandarin
proclamations in the Colony calling people to patriotism in
the war against France.
36
As we have seen, Viceroy Zhang
Zhidong desired peace and order in Hong Kong; hence he
sent a telegram to the Hong Kong merchants, asking them
to exhort the striking workers "to stop within the limit of
what is appropriate"37 (meaning to refuse to work for the
French, but not to strike or riot).
Li Dechang's and He Yamei's ties with the Chinese
authorities were based not merely on ethnic consideration,
but also on economic interest. A number of Hong Kong
be posted all along the Praya on October 5, calling on the striking coolies
to resume work and create no more disturbance; see CO 129/217, #19555,
enclosure 3 in Marsh to Derby, no. 340,6 October 1884, p. 439.
34. Li Dechang and He Yamei were partners and founders ofthe Wa Hop
Telegraph financed by Chinese capital. But they had other important
commercial interests such as insurance companies that were closely tied to
foreign capital; see Hong Kong Directory and Hong Kong Listfor the Far East
(1884), pp. 362-363.
35. CO 129/198, #3979, Hennessy to Colonial Office, telegrams, 2-3
March 1882, p. 43. Another reason for the rejection was the project's
connection with the Danish-Russian backed Great Northern Telegraph
Company whose engineers were to be employed to supervise the construc
tion of the cable; see Carl Smith, "How A-mei Pioneered A Modern
Canton," South China Morning Post, (12 April 1978). Again, I am indebted
to Rev. Smith for making available to me his series of very informative
articles published in South China Morning Post. In addition, Rev. Smith
generously shared with me his vast knowledge of the genealogy of Hong
Kong elite families in several long conversations in the summer of 1980.
36. China Mail. 8 October 1884.
37. Zhang Wenxiang-gong quanji, juan 73, p. 7.
merchants often sought to gain Chinese official connections
in order to protect their business and property in China. Li
Dechang and He Yamei's Wa Hop Telegraph Company
had been sanctioned by the Guangdong government, with
an initial capital of $300,000 in 1882. All its promoters were
Chinese, including Hong Kong and Guangzhou merchants
and Guangdong officials.
38
When popular disturbances
broke out in Hong Kong, Guangdong officials naturally
became concerned. Viceroy Zhang Zhidong asked Li
Dechang and He Yamei as well to ensure that the Hong
Kong populace "stop within the limit of what was
appropriate." This coincided with Li Dechang's and He
Yamei's wishes-both men had other important commer
cial interests in the Colony such as insurance companies
that were closely tied to Western capital, so they too
desired peace and order in Hong Kong.
Popular Solidarity and Incipient Nationalism
As noted earlier, the Hong Kong working people had
traditionally been beset with parochialism in two ways:
rivalry and hostility between different dialect groups, and
lack of cooperation between different occupational groups,
both of which stood in the way of national awareness and
working people's solidarity. Yet labor unrest up to the
early 1880s demonstrated that there had been occasions
when such obstacles were to a certain extent temporarily
overcome. When their common interest was threatened by
various measures of the colonial government, the different
dialect groups among the cargo coolies, for instance, had
joined forces to engage in strike. Still, the labor strikes
prior to 1884 usually involved only certain segments of the
working population. Boat people or cargo coolies, for
instance, had struggled alone, rather than together, against
their common foe. In contrast, the popular movement of
1884 involved practically all working people in Hong Kong
in what was nearly a general strike.
In his report to the Colonial Office in London,
Governor George Bowen testified to the emergence of
popular nationalism in the Colony. He stated that at the
time of Britain's previous war with China in 1858-61, the
southern Chinese cared little for Beijing in the north, so
that there was no difficulty in raising at Hong Kong a corps
of more than two thousand coolies to act as porters to the
allied English and French expedition against Beijing. "But
now all is changed. The Chinese artisans, coolies, and
boatmen refused all offers of pay to do any work
whatsoever for the French ships at Hong Kong." Governor
Bowen attributed this change to the establishment of a
vernacular press, the opening up of a rapid communication
between the north and south of China by steamers and
telegraphs, and, above all, the irritating and yet indecisive
hostilities of the French at various points along the coast.
All these had combined with "other causes" to awaken a
common national spirit among the Chinese peoplf;:.39
The modem means of communication and the French
38. CO 129/198, #3979, Hennessy to Colonial Office, telegrams,2 and 3
March 1882, p. 45.
39. CO 129/220, #5502, Bowen to Derby, no. 89, 23 February 1885, pp.
281-282.
II
war of aggression against the Chinese were indeed two
important factors causing the emergence of an anti-French
patriotic feeling in the Colony. The "other causes" which
Governor Bowen did not specify include precisely those
measures adopted by the colonial authorities to suppress
the expression of that patriotic feeling-measures such as
the prosecution of Chinese newspaper editors who
published the mandarin proclamations and the imposition
of fines on the boat people who refused to work for the
French enemy.
The events of 1884 in Hong Kong are significant
because signs of incipient nationalism and of popular
solidarity became visible for the first time in the Colony'S
history. To the extent that popular solidarity was attained,
it was being combined with incipient nationalism in
anti-colonial and social protest.
Newspaper reports and hearsay helped to arouse the
populace and bring them together. Since the beginning of
the Sino-French War, Chinese newspapers published in
Hong Kong and Guangzhou avidly had carried battlefield
reports and propagated the cause of patriotism. News of
French attacks on Fuzhou and Formosa, and of the valor of
the Chinese Black Flag forces, could not fail to rouse
national awareness among the populace. On August 25 a
report was widely circulated and credited among the
Chinese in Hong Kong that the French steamer Nam Vian
had been captured by a Chinese gunboat. The destruction
of the Fuzhou arsenal by the French was at first believed by
many Chinese to be a foreign invention, for it contradicted
their will to believe in the Chinese officials' announcement
that the French fleet had been ignominiously thrashed.
Indeed, a broadsheet' illustrating the alleged disaster
inflicted upon the French ships was offered for sale in the
Hong Kong street.
40
Sun Yixian (Sun Yat-sen), then a
student at the Hong Kong Government Central School,
"heard stories told in the rice- and tea-shops of the great
success of Chinese arms." And "the populace embraced
these delusions joyfully. "41
The people's concern about the war was aroused not
merely by newspaper reports, hearsay, and official
proclamations. For a few days in late August and early
September, the river steamers on their trips down from
Guangzhou were crowded with "terror-stricken natives"
who were fleeing to Hong Kong for fear of a French attack
on Guangzhou. A large number of what the English press
called "rowdy characters, strangers and refugees," who
had been evicted from Fuzhou, Guangzhou and other
cities, flocked to the Colony.42 Their presence in Hong
Kong helped make the populace aware that their own
well-beingg depended on the well-being of the Chinese
nation. An eyewitness to the events, young Sun Yixian was
impressed and felt encouraged by the patriotism of the
Hong Kong dock workers who refused to repair damaged
French vessels which had arrived in Hong Kong from
40. Hong Kong Daily Press, 26 August 1884.
41. Paul Linebarger, Sun Yat-sen and the Chinese Republic (New York: The
Century Co., 1925), p. 177.
42. Hong Kong Daily Press, 2 September, 7 October 1884.
campaigns in Fuzhou and Formosa. 43
Under these circumstances, the colonial government's
imposition of fines on ten boat people who refused to work
for the French served to bring large numbers of the working
people together in opposition. To a working coolie in Hong
Kong in 1884, a fine of five dollars was equal to his earnings
for a whole month.
44
Any coolie who refused to work for
the French could suffer the same fate. Consequently, large
numbers of the working population, whatever their dialect
or trade, felt threatened by the colonial authorities' action.
In this way popular solidarity and incipient popular
nationalism were combined in an anti-colonial and anti
imperialist social protest.
But the working people's solidarity was not firm
enough, for intimidation was needed to coerce some to join
and stay on strike - those who were forced by economic
hardship and the necessity of earning a living to want to
resume work. Those who were intimidated included the
Fulao chair coolies and the Kejia sampan people, as well as
the Bendi coolies. Differences and tensions between
dialect groups and between occupational groups were still
evident in 1884 and still stood in the way of a fully
developed national consciousness and popular solidarity
incorporating all working people in the Colony. Neverthe
less, for the large number of workers who engaged in the
strike and riots and attacked the police, the colonial officers
and other Europeans in the streets, the differences of
dialect or occupation had largely faded into the
background.
Far from being irrational xenophobic outbursts, the
strike and riots in 1884 were highly realistic acts aimed at
making a specific demand-namely, the right to refuse to
work for the French who were at war with the Chinese. The
crowd was on the whole disciplined and highly conscious of
its purpose. It is significant that neither looting nor wanton
destruction of property took place during the riotS.4S
Rather, the excited crowd directed their anger at some
specifically selected targets-the French merchant Vin
cenot's store, the foreign interlopers from Europe and
America, and especially Hong Kong officials and the
police. Also selected for repeated attacks was the store of
Rongji (Wing Kee), a ship comprador providing coal for
foreign vessels. Chinese Christians, because of their
connection with foreign missionaries, were "afraid to come
out of their dwellings on account of the threats and insults
43. Paul Linebarger, Sun Yat-sen and the Chinese Republic, p. 180; Harold
Schiffrin, Sun Yat-sen and the Origins of the Chinese Revolution (Berkeley
and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1970), pp. 18-19.
44. Regarding coolie's wages in Hong Kong in 1841, Carl Smith, "The
Chinese Settlement of British Hong Kong," Chung Chi lourno.l no. 48
(May 1970), p. 27, states: "Coolies were plentiful. Five dollars a month
each would provide for as many as one could employ." Since then, the
situation had not improved for the coolies. In 1895 a cargo coolie still
earned only six or seven dollars a month; see Chino. Mail, 2 April 1895. As
late as 1911, coolies' wages were still between seven and ten dollars a
month; see Hong Kong Hansard: Reports on the Meetings o/the Legislative
Council: Session J9J J (Hong Kong), p. 46.
45. Odette Meriat, "En Marge de L'Expedition du Tonkin, Les Emeutes
de Quen-Tcheou et de Hong Kong," pp. 228-229, states that the organized
Hong Kong workers did not loot, not only because of the vigilance of
British police and troops, but also because workers were aware that such
an act could only reduce the scope of their claim.
12
a d d r e s s ~ d to them. "46 Notices were circulated among the
Chinese employees of foreign residents calling on them to
cease work, under various penalties.
47
The French
Convent had the greatest difficulty in obtaining food and
was afforded special protection by the police. In the
Eastern district of the town, the crowd selected only a
coaling place at Wanzi for action. Even the placards posted
by the rioters on October 3 announced that at night the
town was to be fired, not at random, but "in three places,"
though no place name was given. The Triads also wanted to
attack the Hong Kong government office, the Hong Kong
and Shanghai Banking Corporation, and the Victoria Gaol
where about one hundred Triad members were held
prisoners; but the contemplated projects were not carried
out due to lack of arms. 48
All these incidents served to illustrate that the crowd
was highly selective in its choice of targets and that the
people were generally disciplined and self-conscious in
expressing social and patriotic protest against foreign
imperialism and colonialism. The people's hostility
towards the French was extended towards the British
colonial authority which attempted to suppress the
expression of anti-French sentiment. The Chinese crowd
spit upon the British troops patrolling in the streets of Hong
Kong and threw stones at them. Such indignities to the
British imperial forces were something hitherto unheard of
in China, the British military commander complained.
49
Considerable commotion and excitement was caused
among the native community in Hong Kong on October 24
by a Chinese who claimed to have captured a standard from
the French in Formosa. He paraded the town during the
day "surrounded by the usual retinue of ragamuffins
attendant on Chinese great men," but left for Guangzhou
at night, presumably to claim the reward offered by the
provincial authorities. Antagonism against the French
persisted among the working people in Hong Kong after
the riots subsided. By November, when order had been
restored, riot ringleaders had been banished, and hundreds
of Triads had left the Colony as a result of the proclamation
of the Peace Preservation Ordinance,50 they still refused to
work for the French Messageries Maritime Company. The
strikers and rioters had attained their purpose-the right
to refuse to work for the French who were at war with the
Chinese.
Conclusion
The strike and riots in Hong Kong in 1884 arose from a
complex combination of causes-namely, French attacks
and threat of attack at various points along the coast; the
presence of French vessels in Hong Kong harbor for
46. CO 129/217, #19555, Marsh to Derby, no. 340, 6 October 1884, p.
423.
47. Hong Kong Daily Press (4 October 1884).
48. CO 129/227, #13330, enclosure 1 in Marsh to Granville, no. 204, 15
June 1886, p. 341; CO 129/217, #19557, Marsh to Derby, no. 342, 11
October 1884, p. 493.
49. CO 129/218, #20342, enclosure in War Office to CO, 27 November
1884, p. 460.
50. Hong Kong Daily Press (25 October, 1 November 1884); CO 129/218,
#20862, Marsh to Derby, no. 358,1 November 1884.
supplies and repairs; the Guangzhou authorities' procla
mations warning against working for the French and
encouraging patriotic activities against the French enemy;
the Triads' instigation of strike and riots; and finally the
popular resentment against British colonial government's
suppression of resentment against British colonial
government's suppression of anti-French sentiment, and
against its imposition of fines on ten boat people who
refused to work for the French.
Prior to the outbreak of the strike and riots, some
Chinese newspaper editors had encouraged anti-French
sympathy, but they were effectively silenced by the colonial
government's prosecutions. Some Chinese shop-keepers in
the Western district of the town closed their shops to join
the strike on the days of riots, but as riots persisted, most
business men and property owners became impatient with
the tumult and began to call for order. The strike and riots
were largely a working people's movement. The events of
1884 illustrated that, with their economic ties to foreign
capitalism, the various factions of the Chinese elite were all
eager to collaborate with the colonial authorities in putting
an end to popular disturbance.
It is important to note that collaboration with the
British authorities to terminate popular unrest in Hong
Kong did not necessarily mean lack of Chinese
"patriotism" on the part of the Chinese bourgeois elite.
Patriotism could be expressed in different ways. As long as
there were different views regarding what was in the best
interest of the nation, there would be different kinds of
patriots and nationalists, including "populist nationalists,"
"elitist nationalists," and what might be pardoxically called
"comprador patriots" (that is, those who collaborated with
and rendered service to imperialism under certain
historical circumstances in the hope of eventually building
a strong nation to resist imperialism). 51 For instance, in the
aftermath of China's defeat in the Sino-French War, He Oi
(Ho Kai) and Hu Liyuan began to publish reformist essays
in Hong Kong in 1887, urging the Chinese government to
collaborate with Western imperialist Powers, especially
Britain, even at the price of compromising some of China's
sovereign rights, in making institutional reforms along
Western lines in order to bring about China's "regenera
tion" in the Western image. With strong economic ties to
Western capitalism, the bourgeois "patriots" in Hong
Kong in 1884 opposed the popular outburst of strike and
riots as a valid expression of Chinese patriotism. In 1884,
popular nationalism was only in its incipient stage of
development: the people of Hong Kong had just begun to
show some vague awareness of China as a nation-state.
It is significant that the "lower" class Triad activists
who permeated the working population in the Colony took
an important part in organizing the anti-colonial and
anti-imperialist movement of 1884.
52
Yet, the Triads
51. For a discussion of "comprador patriotism, "seeJung-fangTsai, "The
Predicament of the Comprador Ideologists: He Oi (Ho Kai, 1859-1914)
and Hu Liyuan (1847-1916)," Modem China 7 (April 1981), pp. 191-225.
52. Referring to the dock workers in the strike of 1884, Jean Chesneaux,
Secret Societies in China in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries (Hong
Kong: Heinemann Educational Books Ltd., 1971), p. 126, states: "It is
worth noting that when-for the first time in its history-the Chinese
13
engaged in both political revolt and non-political criminal
actions, the line between which was often blurred. Indeed,
in ordinary times their criminal actions were not
infrequently directed against members of the working
people. Hence the Triads could not organize the workers
into a solidarity group to act politically to pursue and
defend their common class interest on a constant and
permanent basis; but neither could the Chinese bour
geoisie whose interests ran counter to the workers' own.
Subsequent anti-imperialist movements during the first two
decades of the twentieth century were often promoted by
members of the commercial bourgeoisie and the
intelligentsia, who had little interest in seeking to advance
labor interests. This helps to explain the very limited scope
of workers' participation in the anti-American boycott in
Hong Kong in 1905. Although some bourgeois activists
were able to exploit the general discontent of the Chinese
populace in the riots in Hong Kong during the 1908
anti-Japanese boycott,53 workers' participation in that
boycott still remained rather limited when compared with
the 1884 working people's strike organized by the "lower"
class Triads. It was not until the Hong Kong seamen's strike
in 1922 and the Guangzhou-Hong Kong strike in 1925-26
that working-class solidarity was again clearly demon
strated. Nevertheless, early signs of popular solidarity and
incipient popular nationalism were clearly visible in the
strike and riots of 1884.
The events of 1884 in Hong Kong are significant, not
only because they shed much light on the nature of British
rule and social tensions in the Colony in the late nineteenth
century, but also because they demonstrated the latent
capacity of the people of Hong Kong to rise to action in the
nationalist and anti-imperialist movements of the twentieth
century. *
industrial proletariat took the initiative and staged a truly political strike,
which was successful, it was a secret society that gave the call to action."
See also Marianne Bastid-Brugere, "Currents of Social Change," in John
K. Fairbank and K. C. Liu, eds., The Cambridge History of China: Late
Ch'ing, /800-/91/ (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980), vol.
11, part 2, p. 575.
53. The 1905 anti-American boycott and the 1908 anti-Japanese boycott
in Hong Kong are discussed in two chapters of my draft manuscript
entitled "Hong Kong in Chinese History: A Study of Strikes, Riots and
Boycotts, 1884-1914."
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14
Fourth World Colonialism,
Indigenous Minorities
And Tamil Separatism
In Sri Lanka
by Bryan PfatTenberger
Despite the withdrawal of colonial power from Third
World countries, forms of oppression that might well be
termed "colonial" still persist in many of them-the op
pression wrought by nationalist Third World governments
whose regimes fail to respect the rights of indigenous
minorities. In their zeal to reassert their civilizational
identity, their sense of their historical mission, and their
desire to be "important in the world,"l Third World
peoples have often created governments that celebrate
their own traditions at the expense of minority groups. For
ethnic and regional mmorities in many Third World
countries, the arrogance and injustice of these gov
ernments matches-and often exceeds-those of the de
parted European colonial regime.
The island nation Sri Lanka presents a case in point. In
1956, eight years after the country's independence from
Great Britain, the voters of Sri Lanka-overwhelmingly
Sinh ala by native tongue and Buddhist by religion
2

elected S. W. R.D. Bandaranaike's United Front Coalition.

That coalition had promised to institute the Sinhala
language as the "sole official language of government af
fairs," much to the dismay of the island's largest ethnic
minority, the Ceylon Tamils, who comprise about one
seventh of Sri Lanka's population.
3
The Ceylon Tamils,
who have long dwelt in the country's Northern and Eastern
Provinces, are distinguished from the Indian Tamils, a
population descended from South Indian migrant laborers
dwelling in the tea-growing central highlands.
The language legislation was soon followed by an ill
disguised move to establish Buddhism as the country's state
religion. In 1972, the United Front, again in power with a
1. Clifford Geertz, "The Integrative Revolution: Primordial Sentiments
and Civil Politics in the New States," in his (ed.) Old Societies and New
States: The Quest for Modernity in Asia and Africa (New York: The Free
Press, 1963), p. 108.
2. Robert N. Kearney, The Politics ofCeylon (Sri Lanka) (Ithaca: Cornell
University Press, 1973), p. 143.
3. The standard source on the language conflict is Robert N. Kearney,
Communalism and Language in the Politics ofCeylon (Durham: Duke Univ.
Press, 1967).
The conflicts in Sri Lanka admit of no easy common
analysis, as the articles in this issue of the Bulletin
attest. The Editors invite others to participate with
essays or other works which present new evidence and
documentation, approach the questions from a fresh
perspective, and proceed in a comradely fashion.
The Editors
massive parliamentary majority, wrote a new constitution
establishing Buddhism as the religion deserving special
state protection and funding. The constitution expressed
an old Sinhalese Buddhist idea that the entire isle bears a
historical mission to preserve Buddhism.
4
These moves were followed by calls from Ceylon Tamils
for the partition of the country into two states, one Sinhala
and one Tamil. In May 1976, political parties representing
the Ceylon Tamils, the island's largest ethnic majority,
federated to form the Tamil United Liberation Front
(TULF). In its manifesto, the party called for a negotiated
partition of the country to protect the Tamil Hindu minor
ity, charging that their "new colonial masters, the Sin
halese, ... [are] using the power they wrongly usurped to
deprive the Tamil nation of its territory, language, citizen
ship, economic life, opportunities of employment and edu
cation."5 More recently, reflecting the depth of some Cey
lon Tamils' commitment to partition, a guerrilla army of
liberation-the Liberation Tigers-has arisen in the
center of Tamil Hindu population, the laffna Peninsula of
the Northern Province. Both the TULF and the Tigers
seek, they say, the creation of a new nation-Tamil
Ealam-in the traditional Tamil homelands, the Northern
and Eastern provinces.
Faced with the realities of Sri Lanka's history since
1956, it is hard to avoid expressing sympathy, at least, with
the plight of Sri Lanka's Tamil Hindu minority. Devastat
ing public riots in 1958, 1977, and 1981 left thousands of
Tamils homeless and made it increasingly difficult for them
to live and work in the southern part of the island, which is
dominated by the Sinhalese majority. Under the guise of
plantation reforms in the early 1970s, thousands of Tamils
lost land-and many of them their homes-if they were
situated in the South. Ethnic quotas on public service posi
tions and university admissions have slammed the door on
4. Lynn de Silva, Buddhism: Beliefs and Practices in Ceylon, rev. ed. (Col
ombo: Wesley Press, 1980), p. 43.
5. Cited in Robert N. Kearney, "Language and the Rise of Tamil
Separatism in Sri Lanka), Asian Survey 18 (1978), p. 532.
15
Tamil career aspirations. Little public investment appears
to reach the Tamil lands, which are governed by Govern
ment Agents appointed by the Sinhalese-dominated
regime in Colombo, the capital city. Government
sponsored colonization projects implant Sinhalese settlers
in lands that Tamils believe historically Tamil, followed by
gerrymandering schemes that attempt to produce Sinha
lese electoral majorities in these districts. While the Col
ombo government has recently made some concessions to
the Tamil Hindu minority, there is no question that its
policies have reduced a once prosperous region to near
destitution and have convinced more than a few Ceylon
Tamils that its real aim is tantamount to genocide.
6
Yet the situation is by no means black and white, for
the spectre of fourth world colonialism could well repro
duce itself on a smaller level should Ceylon Tamils attain
the political independence that some of them so desire.
There are indigenous minorities within the area that would
be incorporated into Tamil Ealam. While Tamil political
organizations have stated their intention of safeguarding
the rights of indigenous minorities within the proposed
nation-state, there are reasons to fear for their rights under
a new Tamil regime.
The largest group within the proposed Tamil state would
be the Vellalar caste of Jaffna, a powerful-and aris
tocratic-caste that comprises about fifty percent of the
J affna District's population. In the pages to follow, the
nature of Vellalar traditions and politics will be examined,
together with a survey of Tamil Ealam's minorities. As will
be seen, there is some evidence-despite the liberal tone of
TULF rhetoric-that at least part of the Vellalar commun
ity relishes partition as a means to stop the Colombo gov
ernment's intervention in pursuit of social reform in Jaffna.
What is more, the cultural aims of Tamil separatism-to
celebrate the Ceylon Tamil tradition just the way Sinhalese
nationalists celebrated theirs-could well lead to discrimi
nation against groups within Tamil Ealam that are marginal
to that tradition. Finally, the social composition of the
guerrilla movement-predominantly high caste in
origins-does not augur well for social reform should parti
tion be achieved by force.
The VeUaIars ofJaffna
Jaffna's history is marked by the close relation be
tween the peninsula and its dominant agricultural caste, the
V ellalar. Traditional chronicles narrate the arrival of South
Indian Vellalar colonists, under sponsorship of South In
dian kings, with their servants and retainers (convention
ally called the eighteen kutis). 7 These colonizations prob
ably occurred during the thirteenth and fourteenth
6. For the recent history of Sinhalese-Tamil relations, see W. I. Siri
weera, "Recent Developments in Sinhala-Tamil Relations," Asian
Survey, 20 (1980); W. A. Wiswa Wamapala, "Sri Lanka's New Constitu
tion," Asian Survey, 22 (1982); and Salamat Ali, "Democracy Under
Siege," Far t.<astern Economic Review, June 18, 1982.
7. J. H. Hutton, Caste in India: Its Nature and Function (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1961), p. 67; Bryan Pfaffenberger, Caste in Tamil
Culture: The Religious Foundations ofSudra Domination in Tamil Sri Lanka
(Syracuse: Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs, Syracuse
University, 1982), p. 35.
centuries A.D., although Jaffna doubtless was settled be
fore that time. But the colonizations, which were carried on
in what appears to be a large scale, associated the peninsula
with a particular dominant caste, whose members have
long believed the peninsula to be tantamount to their pri
vate domain.
8
The evidence suggests that the spectre of fourth
world colonialism, a form of oppression in which
a newly independent Third World government
ignores the human rights of indigenous minor
ities, could well reproduce itself in Sri Lanka
were Ceylon Tamils to find independence in
Tamil Eelam.
On the eve of European contact, the northwestern
portion of Sri Lanka was in the hands of a Hindu kingdom
centered in Nallur, not far from present day Jaffna town.
Although the ruler ofthe kingdom was (as Hindu tradition
requires) a Ksatriya, it is plain from Portuguese observa
tions that no king could rule who lacked the support of
Vellalar astikars, or chieftains, who were prepared to con
spire against the king if his rule did not suit their interests. It
was by interfering in the internal politics of Jaffna that the
wily Portuguese brought down the last Hindu king of J affna
in 1618.
9
Seldom questioned throughout Jaffna's history was
the idea that the peninsula was in essence a Vellalar pre
serve. In this sense Jaffna's historical chronicles and
cultural identity echo a South Indian pattern of regional
social structure. In a study of zones of dominant caste
suzerainty in India, Beck found that recently settled
regions-as opposed to the ancient "nuclear zones" of
agriculture-were most likely to reveal a pattern of cast
based domination, in which a single, large, landholding
caste controls virtually all the region's agricultural re
sources. "It is into just such areas," she wrote, " t ~ a t well
organized outside groups migrated during times of political
and economic prosperity . . . . Once established, such
castes continue to dominate local institutions and to
structure them to their advantage. "10 In an important study
of spatial categories in traditional South India, Stein found
that the traditional regions of the Tamil lands-the units of
space called natus-tended to become associated in
peoples' minds with a particular agricultural caste, whose
virtues are said to epitomize the region as a whole. 11
8. Michael Y. Banks, "Caste in Jaffna, " in E. R. Leach (ed.), Aspects of
Caste in South India, Ceylon, and North-West Pakistan (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1960), p. 71.
9. Paul E. Pieris, Ceylon: The Portuguese Era, Being a History ofthe Island
for the Period /505-/658 (Colombo: The Colombo Apothecaries, 1914),
pp. 127ff.
10. Brenda E. F. Beck, "Centers and Boundaries of Regional Caste
Systems: Toward a General Model," in Carol Smith (ed.), Regional
Analysis, II, Social Systems (New York: Academic Press, 1976), p. 257.
11. Burton Stein, "Circulation and the Historical Geography of Tamil
Country," Journal ofAsian Studies 37 (1977), p. 24.
16
Vellalars have long claimed a dominant position in the
peninsula's affairs. While not the highest ranking of Jaff
na's castes in traditional terms,12 Vellalars nonetheless
insist that the other castes in the peninsula are there at
Vellalar sufferance and for Vellalar convenience. To be
sure, not all Jaffna castes accept the Vellalar version of the
region's history and identity. Yet, so long as Vella lars
retain virtually complete control of the peninsula's social
system as one ideally focused on their interests. 13
The traditional social structure of Jaffna was marked
by a division between two categories of castes, each sub
servient to Vellalar patrons,l4 The first category, kutimai,
included castes deemed to possess a unique, inherited fit
ness to carry on a particular occupation. Each member of
the kutimai castes, which included Goldsmiths, Carpenters,
Blacksmiths, Potters, Washermen, Barbers, and Paraiyar
Drummers, was and is felt to possess the nature (tanmai)
needed to pedorm both the secular and the ritual aspects of
his or her caste's traditional occupation. The cultural
model of the "eighteen kutis," the servants and retainers of
agricultural V ellalars, truly reflects the hierarchical in
tegration which is the heart of the Hindu social tradition, as
it is defined in the classical Dharmasastras or socio-legal
texts. The second category, atimai, consisted of "stranger"
or "aboriginal" castes (Koviyar, Nallar, and Pallar) whose
status in the traditional system was defined by the Dutch as
slavery. They were emancipated in 1844, but their social
position has hardly changed.
Two of the atimai castes, the Untouchable Nalavars
and Pallars, make up a full fifth of the Jaffna District
population. Landless and impoverished, these two large
Untouchable castes tend to become ensnared in exploitive
relations with Vellalars, who advance them sums of money
which almost certainly Untouchables will be unable to
repay. N alavars and Pallars pedorm the most disagreeable
offices of Jaffna agricultural life, laboring in the hot sun for
wages that barely meet (and often do not meet) their sub
sistence needs. Vellalars consider the Pallars and Nalavars
to be "unclean" (tuppuravu ilIai), and balk at the idea of
permitting them such luxuries as a seat on a bus.
The rigidity of Jaffna's caste system has surprised
more than a few observers of the peninsula's social rela
tions, but it would be a mistake to assume that Vellalar
domination lacks legitimacy. As I have shown in Caste in
Tamil Culture the traditional privileges of Vellalars are
justified, at least to the minds of most Jaffna Hindus, by an
architectonic system of ritual entitlements. This system
includes an astonishing variety of rites, from the simplest
blood sacrifices to the most complex Brahmanical temple
rites, that establish at once the greatness of the Vellalar
patron and the humble status of his servants and retainers.
12. Brahmans, Saiva Kurukkals [a caste of non-Brahman temple priests],
and a merchant caste [Chetties] are admitted by Vellalars to rank higher.
13. PhilIipus Baldaeus, A True and Exact Description ofthe Great Island of
Ceylon. Originally published 1672. Ceylon Historical Journal, 8
(1958--1959), p. 372; A. M. Hocart, Caste: A Comparative Study (New
York: Russell and Russell, 1950), p. 7; and Banks, "Caste in Jaffna," p.
71.
14. The discussion to follow is abridged from Pfaffenberger, Caste in
Tamil Culture.
To make this argument is not to insist that it unequivocally
structures every nook and cranny of Jaffna's social system.
In fact the system of ritual entitlements is not particularly
effective in shaping the statuses of certain artisan castes,
and it is completely ineffective in defining the rank of
Jaffna's large-and autonomous-fishing castes. But it is
to argue that the ritual process of Vellalar domination has
long played a major role in rendering unquestionable the
ancient privileges of the Vellalar caste, and to a remarkable
extent it continues to do so in those rural regions where
Vellalars still pursue the agrarian model of domination.
The liberalization and social reforms introduced dur
ing the British period (1795-1948) considerably weakened
Vellalar control, resulting in an inflation of the Vellalar
population as formerly distinct and subservient castes be
came Vellalar. Nonetheless, so complete has been the ap
propriation of the Vellalar model of domination by these
new entrants that this apparent weakening has in fact
proven vital to the persistence of Vellalar control. Elite
Vellalars rarely permit these new entrants, the Cinna Vel
lalars, to possess the reins of power in Jaffna, but as
Perinbanayagam has noted:
In the event ofany challenge for power and status the entire
Vellala community would merge and act as a unified struc
ture. Ifa non-Vellala candidate were to contest a parliament
ary seat . .. , for example, the entire Vellala community
would unite and vote for the leading Vellala candidate to
ensure the defeat ofthe non-Vellala. Further, even the other
castes would stand behind the Vellala to ensure the defeat of
any intrepid intruder into the . .. [VellalarJ realm. If, for
example, a person from the Koviyar caste were to contest a
parliamentary seat or a Nalavar man were to do so, few
beside the members of his own respective caste would vote
for him. Rather a Vellala than someone belonging to another
caste, though the non-Vellala may be closer to the voter in
the hierarchy and may even be politically acceptable . Hence,
until very recently every parliamentarian was drawn from
the Vellala caste. IS
One hundred and fifty years of dramatic social change
initiated by British liberalizations have not altered the basic
traditionalist convictions of most Vellalars, but these years
have changed radically the avenues along which those con
victions are politically realized. The traditional mode of
domination was and is an agricultural matter. Rooted in a
religious language of relationships among householders,
gods, temples, fields, patrons, clients, castes, and crops, it
operated in a world of restricted scope. 16 But by the end of
the nineteenth century a new variety of resources and new
opportunities for power, wealth, and status began to make
themselves available in Jaffna: salaried and pensionable
positions in the public service, in education, and in busi
ness. Vellalars, clinging to the traditional idea that the
peninsula is a Vellalar preserve quickly sought to mon
opolize these new resources, and did so with astonishing
success. Virtually all the professionals of the peninsula
15. R. S. Perinbanayagam, The Karmic Theatre: Self, Society and Astrology
inJajJna (Amherst: Univ. of Massachusetts Press, 1982), p. 26.
16. Pfaffenberger, Caste in Tamil Culture, pp. 223-230.
17
lawyers, doctors, public servants, dentists, politicians, and
teachers-are Vellalars who possess firm ancestry in the
ranks of great Vellalars entitled by the Hindu kings of the
precolonial period. The status of the atimai
Untouchables-the Nalavars and Pallars-has hardly
changed, save that they are no longer slaves in the eyes of
the law. They are called today, by polite circumlocution,
"Minority Tamils," and remain among the most destitute
and downtrodden peoples of the island.
Social reform has been slow to come to Jaffna,
and it remains-as is well known in Sri Lanka
the most caste-conscious and socially atavistic re
gion of the entire island. Social reform efforts
have issued, in the main, not from Jaffna itself
but rather from the Colombo government, from
Sinhalese leftists, and from Buddhist missionary
organizations.
The Social Reform Issue
Social reform has been slow to come to Jaffna, and it
remains-as is well known in Sri Lanka-the most caste
conscious and socially atavistic region of the entire island.
Social reform efforts have issued, in the main, not from
J affna itself but rather from the Colombo government,
from Sinhalese leftists, and from Buddhist missionary
organizations.
In 1957, in part to embarass the Tamil political leader
ship, Parliament passed a Prevention of Social Disabilities
Act aimed at outlawing caste discrimination. While the Act
proscribed discriminatory acts found sometimes within Sin
halese social relations, its text specifies the actual forms of
intercaste discrimination in Jaffna with an accuracy that
would elicit praise from an anthropologist. Clearly aimed
against Vellalar power in Jaffna, the Act helped to justify
the Colombo government's refusal to meet a major Tamil
demand-more regional political autonomy-on the
grounds that firm central intervention would be necessary
to end caste inequality. 17
J affna's hundreds of Hindu temples remained closed
to "Minority Tamils" for more than a decade after the
passage of the Act, but in 1968 a major confrontation at
Jaffna's most sacred shrine-the temple of Lord
Kantacami at Maviddapuram-nearly plummeted the
peninsula into a fratricidal war between the castes. A
17. The Act forbids the imposition of a "social disability" on any other
person on grounds ofcaste, "social disability" being defined as preventing
or obstructing a person from entering educational institutions, shops,
public restaurants, wells, barbershops, laundries, crematoria, public con
veyances, and temples, all traditional forms ofdiscrimination in the Hindu
caste system of Jaffua. The Act also forbids dress codes which were
formerly used to mark caste statuses in Jaffua. See Nihal Jayawickrama,
Human Rights in Sri Lanka (Colombo: Ministry ofJustice, 1976), pp. 71-73,
for the text of the Act and its 1971 amendments.
demonstration in front of the temple petitioned for Un
touchable temple entry, but the demonstrators-mostly
Pallars and Nalavars-were repulsed by a gang of 200
Vellalars. They were led by a retired mathematics profes
sor, C. Suntheralingam, who was later convicted under the
1957 Act and fined a pittance of Rs. 50/=. Conservative
Vellalars were angered by the temple entry drive, but what
angered almost all Vellalars was that the demonstrators
were coached by leftist Sinhalese advisors from Colombo.
Buddhist missionary organizations, claiming that their
religion does not recognize caste, have extended help to
"Minority Tamils" in Jaffna by offering them education
in the Sinhala language. Tamil political leaders feared that
the 1972 Constitution, which granted state protection to
Buddhism, might be used to create a Sinhalese-speaking
political base for Sinhalese parties in Jaffna. 18
While Ceylon Tamils have many grievances against
the Colombo government, one of the most galling, for
conservative Vellalars, is government intervention in favor
of social reform. In 1968, Suntheralingam, the Vellalar
who had "defended" Maviddapuram against the Untouch
ables seeking their rights under the 1957 Act, stated in a
newspaper interview that any attempt by non-Hindus to
intervene in Hindu affairs (which included the traditional
relationships among the castes) would be tantamount to
"asking for trouble. "19
Suntheralingam's position accurately portrays a key
element in Vellalar thinking: Jaffna is, by dint of tradition
and history, a preserve for Vellalar culture and Vellalar
privileges, save those concessions which Vellalars them
selves find suitable to make. As anyone who has resided in
J affna knows only too well, this kind of thinking is so
deeply rooted in Vellalar culture that its influence is almost
insurmountable. Many young Vellalars find themselves
swayed by more modem ways of thinking, but there is a
saying in Jaffna-one borne out time and again-that the
liberalism of one's youth gives way to a preference to the
"ancient ways" as one matures. Suntheralingam himself
had been involved in an anti-caste youth organization,
modelled along Gandhian lines.
PoUticai Rhetoric and Vellalar
Domination in JatYna
One would fail to detect this streak of Vellalar con
servatism, however, in the public statements of the penin
sula's leaders, who are almost exclusively Vellalar in
ancestry. In contexts ranging from the Lion's Club to politi
cal rallies, Jaffna's leaders call from the destruction of the
caste system and for a new, egalitarian society in Jaffna.
The goal is framed partly for reasons of political expe
diency, and partly for reasons of a genuine change of heart
by at least some of these leaders.
For the past twenty-five years, Jaffna Tamils (together
with the East Coast Tamils, an allied but distinct ethnic
community) have engaged in a political contest with pre
dominantly Sinhalese parties over the question of language
18. Kearney, "Rise ofTamil Separatism," p. 529.
19. "Not Pride and Prejudice, but Tradition and Constitution," Ceylon
Observer, July 5, 1968.
18
rights. One motive behind the Sinhala-Only legislation,
which established Sinhala as the sole language of govern
ment affairs, was to reduce the number of Tamils-mostly
Vellalars-in the professions (such as law and medicine)
and in public service. Sinhalese aspirants to the professions
and to public service posts had long believed that Tamils
possessed a "disproportionate" share of these coveted pos
itions. In 1921, for instance, Tamils-though they con
stituted only 13.3 percent of the total popultion, held 31.9
percent of the professional positions on the island.
20
A
decade before Independence, Tamils held twice the pro
portion of career public service positions as their propor
tion in the population. 21 With the approach of the language
legislation in the 1950s, therefore, elite Jaffna Vellalars
faced the disagreeable prospect of watching the resource
base of their power-access to the professions and to the
public service-wither away.
To pursue a political strategy of confrontation with the
Sinhalese-dominated central government in Colombo,
Tamil political leaders needed to unite the Ceylon Tamil
community. They therefore found it expeditious to em
phasize precisely the egalitarian ethos reflected in the 1957
Prevention of Social Disabilities Act. They call on all
Tamils, of whatever caste, to band together to defend their
community against what they have come to call Sinhalese
neo-colonialism, and offer as an incentive a promise to end
the discrimination which has plagued Jaffna Vellalars as
they seek to participate in the resources distributed by the
Colombo government.
To be sure, many Tamil political leaders-perhaps
most-are entirely sincere in their advocacy of a Jaffna
free from caste discrimination Yet low-caste organizations
have consistently charged that Vellalar leaders merely pay
lip service to the ideal of social reform, allowing low caste
participation in the political process only when it suits the
interests of the predominantly Vellalar leadership that
must sell its political strategy to a predominantly conserva
tive Vellalar community. What social reform has come to
J affna has been imposed on it by the Colombo government,
often with the intent of embarrassing the Tamil leadership.
There were indications, during the late 1960s, that the
liberal social rhetoric of the Tamil political leadership was
beginning to alienate conservative Vellalars, particularly
when it became apparent after a showdown between Vella
lars and "Minority Tamils" over temple entry rights, that
the Tamil leadership was ideologically and politically
powerless to protect laffna from Colombo's reform initia
tives. In the face of waning support in the Vellalar com
munity, the Tamil political parties formed, in 1976, the
Tamil United Liberation Front, and issued the call for
partition. The rise of Tamil separatism, the dominant
chord in Tamil politics since 1976, is said to have played a
major role in restoring solid Vellalar support to the way
ward Tamil political leadership. The separatist platform,
20. Vijaya Samaraweera, "The Evolution of a Plural Society," in K. M.
de Silva (ed.), Sri Lanka: A Survey (Honolulu: University Press of Hawaii,
1977), p. 87.
21. Kearney, Communalism and Language. p. 70, citing S. 1. Tambiah,
"Ethnic Representation in Ceylon's Higher Administrative Services,
1870-1945," University ofCeylon Review, 13 (1955), pp. 130-133.
which calls for the peaceful partition of Sri Lanka into two
states, one Sinhalese and the other Tamil, demands from
the community unequivocal support, thus distracting from
the issue of social reform.
The separatist call might seem to represent an irra
tional move for the Vellalar leadership, considering that
the party depends on the Colombo government's patron
age and resources to establish its own power in Jaffua.
Nonetheless, it is widely believed in Sri Lanka today that
the initial call for the partition of the island was merely a
ploy to restore solid Vellalar support to the Tamil political
mainstream and to force concessions from the Sinhalese
dominated central government in Colombo. In both goals
the TULF has been more than moderately successful. In
the two most recent elections laffna District support for the
TULF has been almost unanimous, and Tamil was recently
granted constitutional status as a national language on a par
with Sinhala, a development that seemed inconceivable
just ten years ago.
Indigenous Minorities Within Tamil Eelam
Despite the strong connection between Vellalars and
the Tamil political mainstream, the chief Ceylon Tamil
political parties (most recently, the TULF) have long
sought to unify not only Jaffna but the rest of Tamil
speaking Sri Lanka. In attempting to forge a broad con
sensus among all Tamil speaking peoples in Sri Lanka, the
predominantly Vellalar leadership must create policies and
emphasize issues that bring the Tamil community together
instead of splitting it apart. In this aim it has met with varied
success.
One Tamil-speaking minority, the Muslims (Ceylon
Moors, as they are quaintly called) of the central highlands
and the East Coast, has held itself completely aloof from
Ceylon Tamil political parties. The groups' largest popula
tion concentrations is found in the Eastern Province, which
would be incorporated in the new Tamil state after parti
tion. In the 1977 elections, which the TULF saw as a
referendum on its separatist platform, Muslim voters
appeared to reject partition. 22
The mainstream Tamil political parties (the Federal
Party and its successors, the Tamil United Front and the
TULF) have met only limited success in forging bonds with
the Indian Tamils, the descendants ofSouth Indian migrant
laborers who dwell in the tea-growing central highlands.
The citizenship of Indian Tamils was for some years a
matter of dispute between India and Sri Lanka. A treaty in
the mid-1970s resolved the issue, but those Indian Tamils
supposed to receive citizenship have found implementation
of the treaty to be slow. The Indian Tamils' chief political
organization, the Ceylon Workers' Congress (CWC), con
cerns itself chiefly with the problems Indian Tamils face:
working conditions on the plantations and delays in the
granting of citizenship. The CWC dropped out of the
TULF when the separatist position was adopted,23 and its
leader, S. Thondaman, has recently developed close ties
with the ruling United National Party government (in
22. Kearney, "Rise of Tamil Separatism," p. 533.
23. Ibid., p. 532.
19
which he currently holds a ministerial portfolio).
Ties between the mainstream Ceylon Tamil political
parties and the East Coast Ceylon Tamil community,
centering around Batticaloa, have been close and strong,
but there are indications of weaknesses. The East Coast
Tamils are in some respects ethnically distinct from laffna
Tamils, a point not widely appreciated outside the Ceylon
Tamil community. Repeating an old South Indian
pattern,24 the Tamil regions of Sri Lanka tend to take on
their ethnic distinctiveness according to the agricultural
caste that dominates the region. In laffna, that caste is the
V ellalar, but the East Coast was historically dominated by
Mukkuvars, who take pride in their independence from
Jaffna Vellalars and from the precolonial Hindu kingdom
that was centered in J affna.
This tradition of East Coast regional identity and inde
pendence continues today and, doubtless, colors relations
between the Vellalar-dominated TULF and East Coast
Tamils. To assuage East Coast Tamil fears, the TULF's
predecessor, the Federal Party, elected East Coast Tamil
presidents twice, and routinely placed East Coast Tamils in
senior administrative posts within the party structure. 25
Nonetheless, there are continuing signs that the strength of
the Vellalar-dominated party in the East Coast is not as
great as Tamil political leaders like to claim. Electoral
support for the TULF has been weaker in the East Coast
Region, reflecting, perhaps, East Coast misgivings about
an independent Tamil state that would be dominated by
Jaffna Vellalars. In 1979, C. Rajadurai, a TULF M.P. for
Batticaloa and a Senior Vice-President of the party, de
fected to the United National Party, and received a min
isterial portfolio. 26
Just how these minority groups would fare in an inde
pendent Tamil Eelam is not at all clear. To be sure, the
TULF's separatist platform calls for the protection of
minorities and the abolition of caste discrimination, but
these policies would doubtless come under strong pressure
from Vellalars, who would form the largest group within
Tamil Eelam's electorate. The Tamil political leadership's
record on social reform is, at best, dubious, most of the
meaningful social reform having stemmed from Colombo.
There is little reason to predict that their record would
improve once the Colombo government's intervention
often intended to embarrass the Tamil leadership-was
removed.
The Liberation Tigers
Complicating prognostications of social conditions in
Tamil Eelam is the rise of a guerrilla army of liberation, the
Liberation Tigers, who seek a violent solution to the parti
tion issue. It is not at all clear, indeed, that power-should
partition occur-would fall to the TULF. The Tigers, al
though they have refrained from open attacks on TULF
politicians, are believed to have begun their terrorist ac
tivities after concluding that the aging Tamil leadership
24. Beck, "Centers and Boundaries," p. 257.
25. Kearney, Communalism and Language. pp.l01-102.
26. Siriweera, "Recent Developments in Sinhala-Tamil Relations,"
p.910.
could not solve Tamil problems. It could well be that parti
tion would be followed by a contest for power in Jaffna
and the Tigers, it should be added, have the guns.
Just how might a Tiger regime deal with indigenous
minorities in an independent Tamil Eealam? No reliable
answer can be framed to this question since so little is
known about the several guerrilla groups. There are, how
ever, some clues. The groups appear to have emerged out
of youth organizations composed primarily of educated
graduates, mostly Vellalars, who had reached intolerable
levels of frustration owing to unemployment.
By the mid-1970s, few Jaftna Tamil youths had em
ployment of any kind. The virtual expUlsion of Ceylon
Tamils from the public service after 1956 had shut off a
traditional professional career avenue that Jaffna Tamils
had long preferred to pursue. A desperate situation of land
scarcity in Jaftna itself was combined with the Colombo
government's clear favoritism for Sinhalese in settling
newly cleared land to the south of Jaffna. Ethnic quotas in
university admissions resulted in dramatic declines in
Tamil university attendance. Rigid currency controls and
bureaucratic barriers to emigration made foreign work dif
ficult to obtain. Adding to already intolerable levels of
frustration was the inability of most laffna youths to con
sole themselves with the highly desired satisfactions of
family life, for the mechanics of the laffna dowry and
inheritance system, coupled with increased parental and
grandparental longevity, resulted in dramatic increases in
the age of first marriage for both men and women. 27 laffna
Tamil youths felt, in short, trapped-denied what they felt
was owing to them by the Colombo government, they could
not place their confidence in Tamil leaders whose policies
had accomplished little in twenty years of rhetoric.
The Tigers appear to have had their origins, in part, in
groups of disgruntled youths. Some observers believe that
the Liberation Tigers, as they were to be called, emerged
from an organization known as the Unemployed
Graduates' Union, a Tamil youth group composed of dis
gruntled university and secondary school graduates. 28
Another potential source of converts to the guerilla move
ment was a youth political organization, which was
harassed by the predominantly Sinhalese police force dur
ing the early 1970s. Veteran Tamil political leaders had
complained that the youths of laffna were getting im
patient with their elders' policies, and expressed fear that
violence would occur. Following a wave of bombings,
shootings, and robberies in the beginning years of the
decade, the predominantly Sinhalese police forces
detained-without charging them with any
crime-between forty and fifty members of the youth or
ganization of the Tamil United Front (TUF), the TULF's
predecessor. 29
The radicalization of Tamil youth groups was fol
lowed, in the early 1970s, by the onset of patterns of
violence that have plagued the peninsula for a decade. The
27. C. Stephen Baldwin, "Policies and Realities of Delayed Marriage:
The Cases of Tunisia, Sri Lanka, Malaysia, and Bangladesh," Population
Reference Bulletin. 3 (1977), pp. 6-7.
28. Anita Pratap, "Sri Lanka Tigers Trapped," Sunday, June 20--26, 1982.
29. Kearney, "Language and the Rise of Tamil Separatism," p. 531.
20
Low-caste organizations have consistently
charged that VeUalar leaders merely pay lip serv
ice to the ideal ofsocial reform, aUowing low caste
participation in the political process only when it
suits the interests of the predominantly Vellalar
leadership that must sell its political strategy to a
predominantly conservative VeUalar community.
violence turned deadly in 1975 when gunmen believed to
belong to the Tiger movement or its predecessors shot the
mayor of Jaffna, Alfred Durayappah, a Tamil who after his
election switched his party affiliation to that of the govern
ment then in power in Colombo (the Sri Lanka Freedom
Party). Since then, gunmen have attacked several other
political leaders of the Tamil community whose allegiance
to the separatist platform has wavered, and assassinated
policemen and other security personnel.
The Tiger operations were followed by a program of
repression in Jaffna that many observers compare with
security operations in Central America. In defense of its
security tactics, the Colombo government estimated in
1982 that the Tigers were responsible for the deaths of
twenty-five policemen, two soldiers, and ten civilians. In a
series of daring bank robberies, evidently undertaken to
finance guerrilla operations, the terrorists are alleged to
have garnered more than fifty million rupees from bank
robberies.
3o
President Jayawardene recently claimed that
in the three years from 1978 to 1981 his security forces had
to cope with three hundred acts of violence in the Jaffna
District. J 1 By the early 1980s, the Tigers had begun to claim
responsibility, via letters to newspapers, for the killings and
violence in Jaffna.
Little is known about the guerrilla groups, but their
origins, together with the prevailing currents of public
speculation in Jaffna, would suggest an interpretation. The
origins of the groups in political youth clubs and the unem
ployed graduate'S organization imply a preponderance of
Vellalar youth, since the TULF-as well as the ranks of
graduates generally-is predominantly Vellalar in origin.
The Tigers' origins among predominantly high-caste
youth organizations does not augur well for minority rights
in an independent state that they might wind up control
ling. One chief motive for the insurrection appears to have
been unemployment, so it follows that, once partition oc
curs, these youths will believe themselves entitled to public
service positions, which they could monopolize. There are,
furthermore, indications of strong caste rivalries in the
Tiger organization. The movement was dealt a severe blow
recently when two of its main leaders, Prabhakaran (a
Karaiyar) and Uma Maheshwaran (a Vellalar) were ar
rested in South India following a shootout in a Madras
30. "Police Close in on Political Base in North," Sun, February 7,1982.
31. J. R. Jayawardene, speech to the Commonwealth Parliamentary
Seminar, reported in New Internationalist, Nov. 1981, pp. 14-15.
bazaar. The shootout followed a period of rivalry in which
both published pamphlets accusing the other of acts incom
mensurate with respectable caste stature. 32
The participation of Prabhakaran, a Karaiyar, sug
gests links between Vellalar terrorists and Kariyar smug
glers who have long maintained resource bases in nearby
South India. Among the Karaiyars, a high-ranking ocean
going caste that dwells along Jaffna's north coast, are com
munities that have virtually specialized in smuggling con
traband across the Palk Strait. This ocupation has long bred
a disrespect for the law (in other words, for Sinhalese law)
and, of course, a familiarity with firearms. The Vellalar
terrorists are widely regarded in Jaffna to have close con
nections with Jaffna's criminal smuggling elements, and it
is even conceivable-as is speculated in Jaffna-that one
of their motives is to rid the peninsula of the Colombo
government's efforts to control smuggling.
Conclusions
The evidence suggests that the spectre of fourth world
colonialism, a form of oppression in which a newly inde
pendent Third World government ignores the human rights
of indigenous minorities, could well reproduce itself in Sri
Lanka were Ceylon Tamils to find independence in Tamil
Eelam. The Ceylon Tamil population is dominated numer
ically, economically, politically, and intellectually by the
Vellalar caste of Jaffna, a caste that maintains a strong
and ancient-tradition of political domination. Once the
power behind the throne in the Hindu kingdom in Jaffna,
Vellalars, like the dominant castes of South India, have
long controlled their region to suit their interests. The
Vellalars' long tradition of elitism leaves little doubt in any
Ceylon Tamil's mind that, when the TULF speaks of pre
serving Ceylon Tamil rights and Ceylon Tamil culture,
what they have in mind are Vellalar rights and Vellalar
culture. A pointed clue to the Vellalar mentality may be
found in the TULF manifesto, which-in calling for Tamil
Eelam-spoke of the "restoration and reconstitution" of
the precolonial Hindu state-a state controlled by Vella
lars and one that never embraced the East Coast region. 33
The old tradition of Veil alar domination has given way
to a new predominance of Vellalars in the political, eco
nomic, educational, and intellectual affairs of twentieth
century Tamil Sri Lanka. While Vellalar political leaders
call for social reform and for the protection of indigenous
minorities in the Tamil areas, most social reform in Jaffna
has stemmed from the intervention of the Colombo gov
ernment. There are indications, moreover, that the separa
tist platform appeals to conservative Vellalar sentiment in
part because it would end that intervention. The first
frankly separatist Ceylon Tamil political party, the Eylom
Thamil Nation Freedom Movement, was headed by none
other than C. Suntheralingam, the "caste fanatic" (as he is
remembered today in Jaffna) who fought off the Untouch
ables at Maviddapuram in 1968.
32. "Terrorists Remanded as lOP Holds Talks," Sun, May 27, 1982;
Anita Pratap, "Sri Lanka Tigers Trapped," Sunday, June ~ 2 6 , 1982.
33. "The TULF's Eelam Manifesto," Saturday Review (Jaffna, Sri
Lanka), June 19, 1982.
21
Non-Vellalar minorities, including Jaffna's "Minority
Tamils," have shown varied interest in the partition drive.
The cultural dimension of the separatist position, so
strongly rooted in Vellalar notions of independence and
sovereignty, doubtless alienates even those Ceylon Tamils
(like the East Coast Tamils) who have long kept close
relations with the mainstream political leadership. The
rhetoric of Tamil separatism, which emphasizes the need to
preserve cultural traits of Jaffna and to "reconstitute" the
precolonial kingdom centered in Jaffna, at once stirs Cey
lon Tamil pride and raises concerns about the role J affna
Vellalars would play in Tamil Eelam.
34
Two large Tamil
speaking groups, the Ceylon moors of the East Coast and
the Indian Tamils of the central highlands, have made it
plain that they want no part of the separatist campaign.
The TULF, to be sure, has tried to make clear its
support for social reform and for the protection of minority
rights in Tamil Eelam. Yet it is also clear that the Tamil
politicalleaderships' record on social reform strongly sug
gests a great deal of rhetoric and not much action. More
over, it is not even certain that partition would bring the
political leadership to power. While not di
rectly antagonistic towards the TULF, the Tigers are be
lieved to have become exasperated with what they saw as
the ineptitude of the aging political mainstream. Should
they win Tamil Eelam's independence by force ofarms, it is
hardly likely that they would grant that leadership power.
With its leadership fragmented and its population di
vided by ancient inequalities and rivalries, the Ceylon
Tamil population of Sri Lanka finds itself inching, day by
day, closer to partition. Whether or not Ceylon Tamils
really desire it, partition appears to be increasingly likely
as mob violence, police repression in Jaffna, the Tigers'
ruthless politics of assassination, and economic distress
daily drive a deeper wedge between them and the Sin
halese. Unless a strong leader emerges who can mod
erate the divisions within the community, partition
would doubtless be followed by a contest for power in
which conservative sections of the Vellalar community,
allied with smuggling interests along Jaffna's north
coast, would doubtless emerge predominant. The fate of
Tamil Eelam's minorities under such a regime would
probably be no better-and perhaps much worse-than
that of Tamils generally in Sri Lanka today. *
34. Bryan Pfaffenberger, "The Cultural Dimension of Tamil Separ
atism," Asian Survey. 21 (1981).
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22
The Tamil National Question
by Gail Omvedt*
Last year [1981] a major wave of guerilla struggle
broke out in Sri Lanka, followed by widespread rioting. It
was just ten years after the youthful JVP insurrection shat
tered forever the peaceful image of an island which had
achieved its independence without any major mass struggles
at all. Now once again a youth-led armed struggle is brew
ing, only the struggle now centers not for an immediate
social revolution but for the national liberation of the Tamil
minority. As economic crisis, social clashes, and political
repression intensify, over 30 years of discrimination and
riots by the majority Sinhalese Buddhists against the Tamil
Hindus have resulted ih a growing movement for a separate
Tamil nation of "Eelam" in the northern part of the island.
The demand for Eelam was first made by the Tamil
United Liberation Front (TULF) at its first convention in
1976, replacing the original six-point program for demo
cratic rights for Tamils in a single secular state under pres
sure from below. When the TULF became the sole parlia
mentary representative of the Tamils and thus the second
largest party in the country and went on to compromise this
demand, a militant underground organization, the Libera
tion Tigers, sprang up. Since 1979 the Tigers began to
organize killings of Sinhala police and Tamil "traitors,"
and an upsurge in killings led in August 1981 to a major riot
by the Sinhalese against Tamils throughout the island, in
which dozens were killed and hundreds rendered homeless.
Repression and internal dissension have almost de
stroyed the Liberation Tigers since then. But Tamil nation
alism continues to express itself with the rise ofnew organi
zations, including the Tamil Eelam Liberation Front
(TELF), the Tamil Illaignar Eravai (Liberation Front) and
Tamil-based communist organizations. It appears that both
bourgeois parties and the revolutionary left in Sri Lanka
are thoroughly split on national lines.
The situation is complicated even further by the fact
that nearly half the Tamils in Sri Lanka are "Indian Tamils. "
* This is a revised version of "Tamil National Question" which appeared
in Economic and Political Weekly. vol. 17, no. 43, Oct. 23, 1982, pp.
1734-1736.
23
In addition the 6.5 percent of the population who are
Muslims also speak Tamil but do not identify so far with the
Hindu Tamils. Plantation workers and descendents of
plantation workers brought over by the British, the major
ity of these were rendered stateless by the 1948 constitu
tion. India agreed in a pact to take most of these back, but
so far the 300,000 who have returned have spent much of
their time in camps, with no homes, no jobs, no land in
India itself. About 150,000 have been given Sri Lanka
citizenship, but the 600,000 remaining are without any
rights in Sri Lanka itself, expecting to be resettled in India
but with little guarantee of security here. With their own
tradition of trade-union organizing these workers whom
many call the "hard core of the Ceylon proletariat" have
had little real contact with either the Sinhalese left or the
"Sri Lanka Tamils" whose homeland is the northern part of
the Island, and have not yet emerged with any political
voice at all.
The 1981 rioting has had several major repercussions.
First, the international complication ofthe "Tamil national
question" was revealed when resulting anti-Sinhalese dem
onstrations in neighboring Tamil Nadu resulted in deaths
from self-immolation after Karunanidhi, the leader of the
demonstrations, was arrested. Tamil rebels from Sri Lanka
have to some extent used India as a base, and their popular
support was demonstrated when five Liberation Tiger lead
ers were captured by Indian police last May and found
support from nearly all the political parties in Tamil Nadu
against their extradition.
Another result of the riots was heightened anti-terror
ist legislation. Such laws as the Public Security Act and the
Essential Services Act now enable the government to de
clare strikes illegal, ban any political party advocating vio
lence, and detain accused persons anywhere without trial
and with little recourse to the courts. The most recent law,
which gives the executive powers to decide where accused
can be kept in custody, came after the Supreme Court ruled
that Tamil youths detained and tortured in an army camp,
should be placed in the custody of the judges in a remand
prison or jail.
In addition, Sri Lanka under the leadership of the
right-wing UNP has been instituting a presidential system
that perhaps may be a model for Indira Gandhi's own
aspirations-giving the executive what President Jaya
wardene himself has described as the "power of a king."
Jayawardene who is ready to use such powers ruthlessly has
declared a state of Emergency several times on the island
since coming to power (once in 1979 in the Tamil northern
area; once in 1980 to repress a general strike, once follow
ing the 1981 riots, and again in 1982 following Sinhala
Muslim rioting), and has deprived his most powerful bour
geois political opponent, Sirimavo Bandaranaike, of her
citizenship rights.
Clearly the Sri Lanka bourgeois state is using the
slogan of "anti-terrorism" to acquire powers to crush any
kind of popular revolt or powerful mass movements. Nev
ertheless, the fact that popular discontent is increasingly
taking a national form, in Sri Lanka as well as in India
among the Nagas, Mizos, Assamese and others or in Paki
stan among all the non-Punjabi nationalities, is one ex
ample of a major aspect of the revolutionary situation in
the world today.
Historical Conflicts Intensified by Colonialism
While Sri Lanka's path of development has intensified
the current Tamil-Sinhala conflict, its roots lie deep in
Ceylonese history itself.
Who the original inhabitants of the island were is not
known. But Tamil-speaking Dravidians (who were at one
time spread over most of India and perhaps a part of the
middle east as well) were very likely on the island at the
time of the Sinhalese arrival-around 5th century BC. The
fact is that while the Sinhalese-Tamil difference is con
ceptualized as a racial division between Aryans and Dra
vidians, such a racial-linguistic identification is as risky in
the Ceylon case as elsewhere. From the beginning the
Sinhala-speakers maintained close connections with the
neighboring Dravidians, connections that included com
merce and marriage as much as warfare, with the Sinhala
elite taking wives and skilled artisans from the Tamil king
doms in India.
Thus Tamils had a constant presence on the island,
and India-based Tamil kingdoms occasionally invaded it.
But it was only in the 13th century, in a period of decline of
the Sinhala Buddhist kingdoms, that an independent Tamil
feudal state could consolidate itself in Jaffna in the north
ern part of the island.
Ceylon had one of the longest colonial histories of any
Asian nation, being conquered first by the Portuguese,
then the Dutch, and finally the British. But its economy
remained an export-oriented plantation economy, based
first on cinnamon and spices, then on coffee, and finally on
tea and rubber. Little industry developed and thus the
industrial proletariat and native bourgeoisie remained min
uscule. Instead, with the British owning most of the planta
tions and controlling all of trade and finance, a mainly
comprador Ceylonese bourgeoisie grew up, along with a
numerous petty-bourgeoisie centered on the highly devel
oped educational and social welfare system funded espe
clally after the 1930s by the profits from the plantations.
As a result, there was little anti-imperialist mass move
ment. In contrast to the Indian National Congress, the
As economic crisis, social clashes and political
repression intensify, over 30 years of discrimina
tion and riots by the majority Sinhalese Buddhists
against the Tamil Hindus have resulted in a grow
ing movement for a separate Tamil nation of
"Eelam" in the northern part of the island.
Ceylonese bourgeoisie organized no mass-based political
party, and independence was granted "from above" with
little agitation. As a result the Ceylon workers and peas
ants, whether Sinhalese Buddhist, Tamil Hindu, or Tamil
speaking Muslims, had almost no experience of common
struggle against oppression.
At the same time colonial rule actively acerbated com
munal conflict. This began with imperialist alliances that
used and intensified rivalry between Tamil and Sinhalese
kingdoms, but it was most uniquely fostered by the planta
tion economy itself. As always, local peasants (in this case
the Sinhalese) who had any lands of their own to maintain
themselves refused to work under the brutally exploitative
conditions of the plantations. The British then turned to
outsiders, importing mainly scheduled caste, debt-bound
laborers from nearby Tamil Nadu. Conditions were so bad
that for a long period nearly one fourth of such migrant
laborers died within a few years; yet the Sinhalese peasants
bitterly blamed the loss of their lands on the laborers as well
as the planters, seeing them as part of a single alien eco
nomic system.
Finally, the petty bourgeoisie that developed under
colonial rule fostered a cultural revivalism that substituted
for a genuine mass-based national culture. Among the
Tamils this took the form of a Brahmanic, Saivite Hindu
revivalism, and among the Sinhalese of emphasizing their
Buddhist anti-Tamil identity. This became so extreme that
the first volume of the "Freedom of Lanka" history series,
published in 1946, dealt with "The Struggle Against the
T a ~ i l s " and focused on the now highly emotive and sym
bohc struggle of Duttagamini, a 5th century Sinhala king
who defeated a supposed Tamil conqueror in a battle that
has become a near-mythic symbol of the cultural opposi
tions in Ceylonese society. Thus the whole colonial period
left the island with a heritage of economic and cultural
disunity rather than forging any common national, anti
imperialist spirit. The objective and historical bases for
unity-Tamil-Sinhala economic and social exchanges and
cultural borrowings, Tamil low-caste resistance to Brah
manic Hinduism, peasant anti-feudal struggles-were all
overlooked. Strikingly also, Buddhism which in India itself
has been (and continues to be seen as) part of a low-caste,
equalitarian and non-Brahmanical tradition, came to be
experienced by even poor and low-caste Tamils as an alien
and oppressive cultural force.
Independence: State Capitalism
and Sinhala Chauvinism
Independence came without touching British economic
24
holdings at all and brought into power the party of the
westernized upper classes, the United National Party
(UNP), committed from the beginning to an "open econ
omy." The UNP did nothing for industrialization or land
reform other than "colonization" projects to plant peas
ants on new lands. It maintained the colonial policy of
parity of Tamil and Sinhala as official languages, but its
Sinhala chauvinism was shown when it (and every other
political party) accepted the mass disenfranchisement of
the "Indian Tamil" plantation laborers in the 1948 con
stitution. This was done by the simple expedient of placing
the burden of proof of citizenship by descent or registration
on all those with Tamil names in the central Ceylon area,
and few of the illiterate plantation laborers, even those who
had lived in the islands for decades, could provide such
proof.
Both bourgeois parties and the revolutionary left
in Sri Lanka are thoroughly split on national
lines.
The reaction to the comprador orientation of UNP
policy came in 1956, the 2500th .o! the of
Buddha which served as a focus for nSlOg relIglous-natIonal
emotions of the Sinhalese. A new class was coming to the
fore, based on the rural elite of landlords, rich peasants,
school-teachers, monks, ayurvedic physicians-an aspir
ing bourgeoisie, rural based but without the ties to the
plantation economy of the westernized elite, ready to use
state capitalist policies to aid its economic advance, and a
combination of "socialist" rhetoric and Sinhala chauvinism
to solidify its social support.
The upsurge of this class was expressed through a new
party, the Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP), and through a
single slogan, "Sinh ala only." The party, orgnized ?y
S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike (himself a member of the elIte
who converted to Buddhism and took up native dress to
identify with the new class), expressed in its very name the
new religious identification of the island that had been
known as Ceylon. And the slogan expressed the antago
nism of educated and semi-educated young Sinhalese who
felt that the continuing role of English and Tamil was
leaving them at a disadvantage in education and employ
ment.
Anti-Tamil rioting swept the island, and after the SLFP
came to power the "linguistic disenfranchisement" of the
Tamils followed. The result was that between 1956 and
1970 the percentage of Tamils in the administrative service
declined from 30 percent to 5 percent, in the clerical service
from 50 percent to 5 percent, and in the professions from 60
percent to 10 percent.
Worse yet, the left parties of Ceylon fell victim to
Sinhala chauvinism. At that point there were two, the
Trotskyite Lama Sarna Samaj Party (LSSP) and the pro
Moscow Communist Party. Both had won a fair base among
the Sinhala working class and peasantry and together won
20 percent of the vote in the 1947 election. But they had
done little to really base party organization among the
masses, and were accused by the young radicals of the
1970s for having done little or nothing to even publish
Marxist texts in the vernacular languages. On this back
ground, they began with a vague democratic support for
Tamil-Sinhala linguistic parity, but under the pressure of
the rising Sinhala political force they changed it to support
for "Sinhala only." First the CP in 1960 and then the LSSP
in 1963 joined the SLFP in a united front on the argument
of supporting a "progressive" national bourgeoisie against
the rightist UNP. It is noteworthy that none of these parties
or their immediate successors (various Maoist and Trotsky
ite splits began to occur in reaction to the SLFP alliance)
ever discussed or analyzed the Tamil-Sinhala problem as a
national question. This began to enter the thinking of
Marxist intellectuals only after the Tamils themselves
brought the issue to the fore in the 1970s.
The SLFP-LSSP-CP united front undertook the first
land reforms in Ceylon; but these were applied mainly to
plantations, not to the landlord or rich peasant-owned
rice lands. It nationalized some banks, transport and the
port of Colombo. It started a few new industries and insti
tuted strong exchange controls and licensing procedures to
encourage the local bourgeoisie. But while these measures
could enable some bourgeois consolidation, they could
not, obviously, solve the economic crisis hitting the island
or provide jobs for the increasing numbers of educated
youths turned out by the nation's schools, especially with
Sri Lanka having one of the highest illiteracy rates of any
third world nation (78 percent in 1971).
But the leftist rhetoric fuelled the growing aspirations
of the people, and discontent was expressed both in rising
strikes and demonstrations by the working class (often
against the wishes of their "left" leaders who were trying to
maneuvre within the government) and in Tamil-Sinhala
riots. Then in 1971 a new explosion shook the island.
This was the revolt of the JVP (Janata Vimukti Pera
muna, or National Liberation Front). The JVP's organiza
tion expressed the leftward turn of innumerable rural and
urban petty-bourgeois Sinhala youths, and their frustra
tions with the traditional left parties whose leadership had
remained in the hands of the westernized elite and whose
politics had remained parliamentary and tailist. Organizers
first worked underground, moving throughout the island
for some years to build a mass base among the peasantry,
then "critically" supported the SLFP in the 1970 elections.
Then, as their mass base and militancy and the resulting
state repression began to grow, with the example of the
1965 Indonesian massacre of communists before them on
one side and the model of Che Guevara on the other, they
decided on a policy of insurrection.
The JVP had no real Leninist party structure or work
ing class base, and its politics were clearly adventurist.
Worse yet, while it reacted against the revisionism of the
established Marxist parties, it shared their Sinhala chauvin
ism; its famous "five lectures" characterized the Tamil
plantation laborers as a part of "Indian expansionism" and
called for their repatriation "by force if necessary." It also
accused the Tamils of being "nationalists," a conceptuali
zation that reflected the lack of serious Marxist thinking in
the island on this issue. Nevertheless over 15,000 young
25
The Rural Labour Union, which includes agricul
turallaborers, poor peasants and other unskilled
rural laborers, is the first such organization of the
rural poor in Sri Lanka-up to now the left has
only organized "peasant unions" including rich
peasants as well as landless laborers.
people (and some estimate up to 50,(00) paid with their
lives in the brutal suppression of the revolt, it marked a
turning point not only for Sri Lanka but also in the inter
national left movement as well. For nearly all the nations of
the world, including post-revolutionary societies (with the
exception of North Korea), provided immediate material
aid to the government, and Zhou Enlai's letter of support
to Prime Minister Sirimavo Bandaranaike was a major
factor leading to disillusionment with Chinese foreign pol
iey in the post-cultural revolutionary period. The continu
ing fragmentation on the revolutionary left in Sri Lanka
and every other country have their roots in such actions.
Searching for Direction
The brutal repression of the revolt, the subsequent
failure of the NP to regroup, and the continued neglect of
the Tamil national question left a revolutionary vacuum in
Sri Lanka politics. Splits occurred in every major left party,
with the Trotskyites and pro-China communists dividing
into several groups. The JVP itself first fragmented and
then was taken over by an emerging Trotskyite section
headed by one of its early main leaders, Rohan Wijiweera.
The original JVP had never been Trotskyite but more or
less followed the traditional communist line in its analysis
of classes and the character of revolution; but there had
been two strategical trends within it-the so-called "big
blow" (insurrectionist) and "little blow" (protracted war
fare). Following the repression differences intensified and
there was even physical infighting in the jails before Wi ji
weera's group gained control to transform it into a parlia
mentary party noted for its sectarian refusal to unite with
other sections of the left.
The positive aspect of this period was that a new
generation as coming into the working class movement,
many of them with the most bitter personal experiences of
class struggle, raising new issues, studying the problems of
the revolution in a new way and working among the masses
in various organizations. But throughout the 1970s, no
revolutionary vanguard could be born from this, and the
split between Tamil and Sinhala masses and activists
intensified.
In this absence of a revolutionary alternative, the
Sinhalese maintained the SLFP in power until 1977, with its
rhetoric of anti-imperialism and practice of state capi
talism. Then, when their worsening economic condition
showed no sign of improving, they reelected the UNP. The
UNP promptly moved to "liberalize" the economy and
"rationalize" the state system-on one hand dismantling
26
exchange controls and licensing procedures and opening up
the country to multinational capital and the World Bank
IMF, and on the other hand bringing in an amended con
stitution in 1978 to provide for a presidential system.
Strikingly, though the SLFP's Sirimavo Bandaranaike has
often been identified with Indira Gandhi, Bandaranaike's
enemy Jayawardene was doing precisely what Indira
Gandhi herself is now beginning to do: the changing policy
is more a result of the changing needs of the bourgeoisie,
not of a particular political party. Sri Lanka's model is now
Singapore, the highly dictatorial but industrializing play
ground of the MNCs, and the UNP is going ahead with free
trade zones and the capital-hungry Mahaveli irrigation
development project. Economic growth rates have risen
temporarily, but little has so far trickled down to the mas
ses, and even in the face of a divided opposition the UNP's
fate is uncertain in the current elections.
The Tamils in tum threw all their support to the newly
emerged TULF when it took up a program for equal rights
and the call for "Eelam. " When this party turned to mod
eration, the Liberation Tigers sprang up as a militant
group, and now with the Tigers repressed and the TULF
still discredited as too compromising, numerous new
groups are coming to the forefront. Almost all of these
have bourgeois or petty-bourgeois leadership, but Marxist
Leninist forces are also working among the Tamils. These
include a breakaway faction from the pro-Peking Com
munist Party who have joined with other activists to or
ganize the rural proletariat in the traditional areas of the
"Ceylon Tamils." Their Rural Labour Union, which in
cludes agricultural laborers, poor peasants and other un
skilled rural laborers, is the first such organization of the
rural poor in Sri Lanka-up to now the left had only
organized "peasant unions" including rich peasants as well
as landless laborers. A large number of Tamil scheduled
caste laborers are included in this organization, and the
RLU fights for a society free from caste oppression as well
as class oppression and national oppression.
The division in the revolutionary left in Sri Lanka has
so far left the fate of the country in the hands of the UNP
and SLFP, the "right" and "left" hands of the bourgeoisie,
both headed by the most elite of its sections. But this
division itself has its basis, not so much in the international
competition between "Trotskyites," "Maoists" and "re
visionists" as in the inability to formulate a political line
capable of handling the internal contradictions of Sri Lanka
society. *
Anti-Tamil Riots and the
Political Crisis in Sri Lanka
A Report by the Social Studies Circle
of the Sri Lankan Worker-Peasant Institute
"Have a taste of Paradise" says the advertising blurb
of Air Lanka, the national airline. But on July 24, 1983, the
island paradise for tourists turned into a veritable hell for
its Tamil-speaking inhabitants, with fire and smoke engulf
ing the capital city of Colombo. Within days, rioting spread
throughout Sri Lanka in a wave of assaults against the
Tamils in almost all the towns and plantation areas. For
nearly a week, mob rule prevailed and lynching was the
order of the day.
Sri Lanka's population comprises four main commu
nities: the Sinhalese (74% ), Lanka Tamils (12.6%), Tamils
of recent Indian origin (5.6%), and Muslims (7.1 %). The
Sinhalese and Lanka Tamils have occupied the island for
more than two thousand years, whereas the Tamils of
Indian origin were brought there in the nineteenth century,
mainly as indentured workers on the British-owned planta
tions. The Muslims migrated to Sri Lanka from West Asia
and India and already formed an ethno-religious commu
nity in pre-colonial times.
The Lanka Tamils, most of whom live in the northern
region, have experienced discrimination for several dec
ades and have suffered active repression during the last
four years. In the national elections of 1977 which brought
the J.R. Jayawardena government to power, they voted
overwhelmingly for the Tamil United Liberation Front
(TULF). The TULF, an alliance of all the parliamentary
parties of the north, concluded that the Tamil national
question could not be resolved within a unitary state and
therefore demanded a separate Tamil state called Eelam.
The TULF envisaged the path to Eelam as peaceful and
non-violent. Its inability to achieve its goal led to the for
mation of a Tamil youth movement whose members armed
themselves for the struggle to attain a separate Tamil state.
The Jayawardena government failed to examine the
root causes of the Tamil national question and to propose a
political solution. Instead, confronted with increasing mili
tancy on the part of northern youth, it stepped up armed
repression against the northern people as a whole. When
the police failed to contain the unrest the government sent
armed forces to the north in late 1979, boasting that it
would wipe out terrorism within three months.
Mainly Sinhalese, the Sri Lankan army is heavily in
fected with racism. In the north, which is almost exclusively
Tamil-speaking, it turned into a virtual army of occupation,
against which the civilians reacted with absolute non
cooperation. In this context the militant youth groups,
which had already established links with the mass of the
people, were able to operate with ease. Increasingly, they
attacked police stations, army units, government establish
ments, and those northern politicians who had allied them
selves with the United National Party (UNP) of Jaya
wardena. The army was thus confronted with an effective
but vanishing enemy which melted into the population
after each armed attack. When it found itself incapable of
effective counteraction or of capturing any sizeable num
ber of militants, the army turned on innocent civilians. The
result was a series of gruesome atrocities against the north
ern people which further alienated the Tamils from the
Colombo regime.
On July 23rd, 1983, in the midst of this repression, a
Tamil armed group attacked an army patrol in the Jaffna
peninsula, killing thirteen soldiers. Furious, but powerless
to punish those responsible, the army indulged in ,in
discriminate assaults, slaughtering more than seventy
civilians.
Rioting broke out in Colombo immediately after the
funderal that the government organized for the thirteen
soldiers. Part of the mainly Sinhalese crowd attending the
funeral broke into gangs and went on a rampage in the city.
Sinhalese mobs in other towns followed suit, engulfing
most of the country in an orgy of riots. Between the 24th
and 31st of July, murder, assault, arson and looting oc
curred on a scale unprecedented in Sri Lanka. The govern
ment's estimate of the carnage is totally untrustworthy;
reports reaching us indicate at least 1500 murders and
150,000 rendered homeless.
During the anti-Tamil riots of 1958, which were minor
compared with the recent offensive, the left-wing political
forces which at that time led the organized sections of the
working class were able to set limits to the destruction.
Unfortunately, the Left today no longer enjoys leadership
among either workers or peasants. During the sixties and
seventies, the main left-wing parties compromised them
selves by practicing coalition politics with the Sri Lanka
Freedom Party (SLFP), a bourgeois party which gave ex
pression to Sinhala chauvinism. In tailing the SLFP, the
Left abandoned or weakened its positions on both class and
national issues. Thus the Communist Party, the first to
27
advocate a federal solution to the national question in 1946,
later abandoned that position. Similarly, the Lanka Sarna
Samaja Party, which advocated parity between the
Sinhalese and Tamil languages in the fifties, later switched
to adopt the SLFP's "Sinhalese Only" policy. These trends
alienated the Tamils from the main left-wing parties, leav
ing them almost wholly Sinhalese in composition.
The period from 1956 to 1977 saw a remarkable expan
sion of the public sector of the economy, accompanied by
an increase of urban workers employed in state and semi
state enterprises. The same period, however, saw a decline
in the political strength of the working class. Coalition
politics meant that the leftist leaders underplayed class
struggle in favor of "national unity against imperialism."
Given Sinhalese ethnic dominance, this tended increas
ingly to imply Sinhalese unity against all others. In its
failure to promote class struggle, the Left failed to organize
the new public sector workers and even lost support among
its traditional followers. The new public sector workers,
moreover, came mainly from rich and middle peasant fam
ilies with enough local political clout to obtain these jobs.
Thus arose huge trade unions attached to the ruling party of
the day. When the SLFP was in power, the trade unions
under its control had the largest membership in the public
sector. These unions virtually collapsed when the UNP was
returned, their members quickly switching to the UNP
unions. It was as if the workers were outsmarting their
former leftist leaders. "You had a coalition with only one
bourgeois party," they might have said, "but here are we,
card-carrying members of the ruling party's unions, what
ever that party may be. "
The co-optation of workers took place on plantations
too. The main left-wing parties had formerly had substan
tial followings among plantation workers of Indian Tamil
origin. When these workers were disenfranchised in 1949,
they lost much of their appeal for the left-wing parties,
which were becoming increasingly involved in parliament
arism. In turn, the plantation workers turned away from
the Left and joined government unions. Today, the two
most powerful plantation unions are headed respectively
by cabinet ministers S. Thondaman and Gamini Dissana
yake. Thus, only a small minority among the working class
still follows the lead of the Left.
Within the government-organized unions, collective
actions by workers largely ceased. The officers in each
union tried to ingratiate themselves with the government
for the sake of promotions, bonuses and other perquisites.
In line with their class collaboration, the government
unions fed their members heavy doses of bourgeois ideol
ogy, which was not unwelcome to workers of peasant
owner background. Sinhalese chauvinism and racism are
integral components of this ideology in Sri Lanka, being
among the most effective means of bourgeois domination
over the Sinhalese working people.
Sinhalese chauvinism has deep historical, social and
psychological roots. Although the ethnic majority in Sri
Lanka, the Sinhalese have historically felt inferior as a
small minority in the pan-Indian context. In medieval
times, the various kingdoms of southern India competed
for dominance. The Sinhalese kingdoms of Sri Lanka were
frequently encroached upon by these kingdoms or drawn
into their dynastic disputes in ways that reinforced the
Mainly Sinhalese, the Sri Lankan army is heavily
infected with racism. In the north, which is al
most exclusively Tamil-speaking, it turned into a
virtual army of occupation, against which the
civilians reacted with absolute non-cooperation.
Sinhalese ethnic identity. The first modern prophet of
Sinhalese chauvinism was Anagarika Dharmapala, the son
of a merchant capitalist, who emerged as a religious per
former in the early decades of the twentieth century.
Dharmapala gave a religious and salvationist bent to
Sinhalese nationalism. Through slogans such as "Buddhism
will live only while the Sinhalese endure," he elevated the
Sinhalese to the level of a chosen people. Sinhalese mer
chants were especially attracted to this religious chauvin
ism, for they were trying to expand in opposition to the
Indian and other non-Ceylonese groups which at the time
dominated the island's trade and moneylending.
In 1948, independence was granted to Ceylon, rather
than won through nationalist struggle. Partly through the
expansion of the state-controlled banking sector, Sinhalese
merchants increased in numbers and largely supplanted the
South Indian Chettiar traders who had preceded them.
Some areas of commerce such as the lucrative import
export and wholesale trades remained, however, in the
hands of "Un-Sinhalese elements," as they were termed by
Cyril Mathew, the Minister of Industries. Sinhalese mer
chants became the most vocal and articulate exponents of
Sinhalese chauvinism, exercising ideological hegemony
over most of the Sinhala people.
Politicians, Buddhist monks, and other community
leaders reinforced the Sinhalese minority complex with
such slogans as "The Sinhalese have no country but Sri
Lanka." Sinhalese intolerance and insecurity, manifested
in aggression against other communities, appear to be en
hanced by the patriarchal and authoritarian tendencies in
the family and kinship systems. Sexual repression (not a
survival from traditional Sinhalese culture, but a late Victo
rian feature promulgated by puritanical ideologues such as
Anagarika D harmapala) contributes to insecurity and frus
tration. It was no accident that teenagers formed a majority
in the mobs that went on the 1983 rampage.
Whereas previous Sri Lankan governments had used
conventional police and armed forces to crush working
class protest and opposition in general, the Jayawardena
regime has been the first to make systematic use of goon
squads. Such squads first went on the rampage immediately
after the 1977 elections, setting fire to the houses of opposi
tion activists and beating up the supporters of opposition
parties. Thereafter, goon squads beat up workers during
the general strike of 1980, killing one worker. They have
since been used to smash student protests, break up meet
ings and beat dissenting intellectuals who spoke at them,
and terrorize judges brave enough to pronounce indepen
dent judgments. The ethnic riots of 1983 were started and
28
I
,
Whereas previous Sri Lankan governments had
used conventional police and armed forces to
crush working class protest and opposition in
general, the Jayawardena regime has been the
first to make systematic use of goon squads.
led by goon squads of the Jayawardena regime.
Immediately after the riots, the Minister of State an
nounced in a speech that these were not merely spon
taneous riots. He spoke of an organized attempt and a
sinister hand, and went on to blame the Left and an un
named foreign power, thus preparing the ground for the
proscription of the left-wing parties. Later, President Jaya
wardena spoke of a plot to undermine the regime, although
he did not mention the left-wing parties, referring only to
"certain political forces. "
There is no doubt that the riots were planned. Jaya
wardena is correct that local thugs were appointed by "cer
tain political forces" to cause havoc. These forces, how
ever, are within the cabinet, not the Left. For some time,
certain members of the cabinet have patronized Sinhalese
extremist organizations led by backward members of the
Buddhist clergy. At the height of the riots, the President
was obliged to grant an interview to Elle Gunawansa, a
young Buddhist monk who leads one such group, and offer
him assurances. The monk met the President in the comp
any of a senior cabinet minister who appeared to endorse
the views of the extremist group. It was precisely such
groups that were responsible for appointing the local goon
squads that led the rioters.
In Kandy, for example, the government's list of prime
suspects consisted mainly of left-wing leaders and cadres
who had nothing to do with the disturbances. There ap
peared, however, three names which everyone in Kandy
recognized as those of UNP goon squad leaders having
close personal ties with senior ministers. These persons,
who led the riots in Kandy, were shortly released, while the
leftists who took no part in the riots continued to languish
in jail. In other towns, including Colombo, observers iden
tified well-known UNP thugs who were actively leading the
mob. "Sinister forces" had indeed appointed "local thugs"
to cause the disturbances.
From July 23 to 28 legitimate authority in the country
collapsed. The regime, and Jayawardena in particular, was
responsible for this. If in normal times even Supreme Court
judges can be subjected to terror by goons of the ruling
party, one can imagine what is likely to happen during an
ethnic riot. In his attempts to quell earlier dissent with the
use of goon squads, Jayawardena released a genie he could
not control.
With the general breakdown of authority, the army
failed in its legitimate tasks. Sinhalese soldiers, blinded by
racist ideology, helped and occasionally led the rioters. The
government belatedly introduced a curfew but was unable
mob.
After the riots the Jayawardena government an
nounced that it was convening an all-out party conference
to discuss ways to wipe out terrorism. When the parties on
the Left replied that they were not interested in discussing
wiping out terrorism without a solution to the Tamil na
tional problem, Jayawardena promised to widen the scope
of the conference and revise its agenda. But when none of
the opposition parties including the TULF took part in the
conference, he allowed the "sinister forces" to revert to
repression.
In addition to generalized repression against the
Tamils, the "sinister forces" had as a special objective the
attack on and financial ruin of rich Tamil businessmen. The
Sinhalese right wing had long suspected these business
groups of financial support to the northern militants, and
wanted to end any danger of such support. Yet given their
class interests, many Tamil businessmen are UNP loyalists.
Chauvinist attacks on the Tamil business community have
thus actually weakened the UNP base.
In this connection, we should note that after the anti
Tamil riots of 1948, there was a period of relative calm in
ethnic relations until 1977. It is since 1977, when Jaya
wardena's UNP came to power, that there has been almost
incessant ethnic violence, including the anti-Tamil riots of
August 1977 and July 1981 and the smaller riots against
Tamils in Kurunegala and Muslims in Galle toward the end
of 1982. These riots may be related to the government's
"open" economic policy, which has substantially reduced
state control over trade and commerce. In the previous
period of import-substitution, when commerce depended
on permits and quotas granted as political patronage by the
goverment, the Sinhalese merchants who were close to the
government obtained more perquisites. By abolishing
permits and quotas, the "open economic policy" did away
with the state-sponsored patronage they had enjoyed. The
Sinhalese merchant stratum believes that the state has been
treating merchants equally regardless of ethnicity. It is
anxious for this state of affairs to end and for the state to
foster and aid it actively.
The ethnic riots of 1983 were led and organized by a
faction in the UNP regime with the intention of weakening
the fight for a separate state in northern Sri Lanka. Instead,
they pushed the uncommitted among the Tamil people
towards favoring such a state. The collective hysteria to
which the Sinhalese masses have succumbed is likely to
bring them an unhappy future. Capitalizing on this chau
vinistic hysteria, the Jayawardena government will be able
to take further measures to fulfill the IMF and World Bank
demands, namely to cut down the existing, paltry welfare
facilities, reduce the real wages of workers, and whittle
away the subsidies and welfare that were earlier conferred
on the peasants. In the present context of chauvinist hys
teria, class struggle is likely to wane temporarily. This may
permit the Jayawardena government itself to be replaced
by an army regime or a military-civilian junta, which will
put forward a populist-fascist ideology of Sinhalese jingo
ism, but will serve the same ruling class by perpetuating the
dependent, underdeveloped capitalist system. Over time,
the contradictions inherent in this process will build up and
at last explode, leading to the collapse of the capitalist
* to enforce it because the army was reluctant to disperse the structure together with its repulsive ruling class.
29
Theatre by the People, for the People and of the People:
People's Theatre and Landless Organizing in Bangladesh
by Ross Kidd and Mamunur Rashid
People's theatre as a tool for popular education and
popular organizing has emerged out of social interventionist
practice rather than any specific academic discourse. It has
evolved out of the direct experience of theatre workers and
popular educators working in the field who have attempted
to refine and shape their practice so that it serves the needs
of a popular transformation. Through critiquing their work,
attempting to overcome contradictions, trying out new
approaches and subjecting each new experience to analysis
they have successively transformed the nature of their work.
Crow and Etherton I have shown the evolution of popular
theatre in Africa and traced its development of popular theatre
through six stages:
I. Urban-based theatre groups tour villages with "well-made
plays" on middle-class themes.
2. Development workers put on didactic plays for villagers.
3. Theatre workers help villagers make their own plays.
4. Development workers research the problems in a village,
develop and put on an open-ended drama and discuss its
resolution with the audience.
5. Development and/or theatre workers facilitate a process of
problem-analysis and drama-making by the villagers.
6. The process in step 5 is used within the context of a popular
organization.
In this paper we will look at the development of people's
theatre in Asia, focusing on the history and experience of one
Asian country and one organization-Aranyak of Bangladesh.
The case study will describe and analyze the changes in
Aranyak's work over a ten-year period (1972-1982) as they
attempted to find the most suitable way of supporting popular
struggle in Bangladesh. Through constantly evaluating its
work, Aranyak recognized its limitations and began to change
its strategy. Each new approach gave rise to a fresh
I. B. Crowe and M. Etherton, "Popular Drama and Popular Analysis in
Africa," in R. Kidd and N. Colletta, (eds.), Tradition for Development:
Indigenous Structure and Folk Media in Non-Formal Education (Bonn:
German Foundation for International Development, 1982).
contradiction which required a further transformation. Eventu
ally Aranyak abandoned its role as a performing group and
began to do cultural animation in the villages, facilitating a
process of drama-making and analysis by landless laborers and
building a movement of village-based people's theatre. The
paper will begin with a brief description of international
experience in people's theatre and then situate Aranyak's work
within the broader context and history oftheatre in Bangladesh.
People's Theatre in the Third World
All over the Third World peasants, workers, women,
indigenous (tribal) groups, and other oppressed groups are
rediscovering the potential of people's theatre as a weapon
in struggles for land, better working and living conditions,
women's rights, and other basic rights. Landless laborers
and poor peasants in Bangladesh,2 Kenya/ Nicaragua: and
the Philippines,' women's groups in Botswana,6 Jamaica,7 and
2. Proshika, "People's Theatre and Organizing Landless Laborers in
Bangladesh," paper presented to the International Seminar on Indigenous
Structures and Folk Media in Non-Formal Education, Bonn, November 1980;
Mamunur Rashid, "Theatre for Liberation: An Indigenous Theatre Form for
the Third World," paper presented to the Indigenous Peoples Theatre Festival,
Peterborough, Ontario, August 1982.
3. Ngiigi wa Thiong'o, Detained: A Writer's Prison Diary (London:
Heinemann, 1981); Ngiigi wa Mirii, "People's Theatre and Popular Education:
A Case Study of Kamiriithu Village in Kenya," chapter for a forthcoming
book on Popular Theatre and Popular Action in the Third World (Toronto:
International Popular Theatre Alliance, 1982).
4. Nidia Bustos, "Campesino Theatre in Nicaragua: An Interview," Theatre
work 2(6): 1982, 32-40; Chris Brookes, "Notes on Nicaragua: Two
Theatres," Theatrework 2(3): 1982, 18-20; Kees Epskamp, "Development
Directed Theatre in Nicaragua Libre," Occasional Paper (The Hague: Centre
for the Study of Education in Developing Countries, 1981).
5. C. Gaspar, et aI., Creative Dramatics Training Manual, Davao,
Philippines: Mindanao-Sulu Pastoral Conference Secretariat, 1980); PETA,
'Towards a Curriculum for a People's Theatre," SONOLUX Information
(Munich) 6: 1982, 3-5; Remmy Rikken, "The Community as an Art Form,"
International Foundation For Development Alternatives Dossier (Geneva) 16:
1980, 127-129.
6. Martin Byram, "Oodi Weavers: Material Culture, Workers Organizations
30
..
)
l
I

t
Courtesy of Ross Kidd

LIBERRTED
THERTRE
a form of
indigenous theatre
From
ARANYAK
Bangladesh
\511 iC! G1J<J5

!!9 X
'"
Theatre by the people
31
Carl Gaspar
India,s native communities in Peru,9 Bolivia,1O Ecuador, I I and
Guatemala,12 tribaP
3
and Harijanl4 movements in India, sugar
workers, domestic workers, prisoners, etc. in Jamaica,ls urban
slum-dwellers in Latin America,16 and freedom-fighters in
southern Africa
l7
-all are turning to "theatre by the people for
the people and of the people" as a means of building class
and/or women's consciousness, mobilizing people for action,
engaging in struggle, and reflecting on the struggle.
For these popular groups and movements, people's theatre
refers to theatre of the people (that is, dealing with the issues
and concerns of the popular classes-the peasants and workers)
created and performed by the people for popular audiences of
and Non-Formal Education in Botswana," in R. Kidd and N. Colletta, (eds.),
Tradition for Development: Indigenous Structure and Folk Media in
NonFormal Education (Bonn: German Foundation for International Develop
ment, 1982).
7. Honor Ford-Smith, "Women's Theatre, Conscientization and Popular
Struggle in Jamaica," in Kidd and Colletta; Honor Ford-Smith, "Sistren: Profile
ofa Jamaican Women's Theatre Collective," Theatrework 2(3): 1982, 14-16.
8. Gail Omvedt, We Will Smash This Prison: Indian Women in Struggle
(London: Zed Press, 1980); Maria Mies, "Indian Women and Leadership,"
Bulletin of Concerned Asian Scholars 7(1): 1975,56-66; S. Kanhare and M.
Sawara, "A Case Study on the Organizing of Landless Tribal Women in
Maharashtra, India," Asian and Pacific Centre for Women and Development,
1980.
9. Milada Corredorova, "Teatro Campesino del Tio Javier: Puppet Conscien
tization Theatre in Rural Peru," Young Cinema and Theatre 2: 1974,24-26;
Instituto Ferrol de Chimbote, Nacer de la Esperanza: Una Experiencia de
Comunicacion Popular (Lima: TAREA, 1974).
10. Luis Rojas, "Ayni Ruway: Indigenous Institutions and Native Develop
ment in Bolivia," in Kidd and "Colletta.
II. Carlos Dominguez Espinosa, "EI Teatreo Quechua: Una Tradicion que se
Reafirma," Con junto (Havana) 28: 1976, 5-13; E.M. Reza Espinosa, La
Experiencia de la Unidad Descentralizada de Educacion de Adultos y
Coordinacion Educativa para el Desarrollo en la Provincia de Chimborazo
(Ecuador) (Santiago: UNESCO Regional Office, 1978).
12. Teatro Vivo, "Community Drama in Guatemala," Third World Popular
Theatre Newsletter 1(1): 1982,35-40.
13. G. V. S. de Silva et al., "Bhoomi Sena: A Struggle for People's Power,"
Development Dialogue 2: 1979, 3-70; Maria Mies, "A Peasants' Movement
in Maharashtra: Its Development and its Perspectives," Journal.ofContempo
rary Asia 6(2): 1976, 172-184; D.N. Manahar, "Shramik Sangathana: A Year
in Retrospect," How (New Delhi) 2(7-8): 1979, 19-28.
14. Felix Sugirtharaj, "Rural Community Development Association: Its
Origins, Methodology, Philosophy and Description of its Movement Stage by
Stage," unpublished report. Madras: Association for the Rural Poor, 1979; R.
Kidd, "Domestication Theatre and Conscientization Drama in India," in Kidd
and Colletta.
15. Anonymous, "Popular Theatre: A Mode of Resistance in Contemporary
Jamaica," in Third World Popular Theatre (Toronto: International Popular
Theatre Alliance, 1984); Joan French, "Sistren and Jamaican Popular Theatre,"
Third World Popular Theatre (Toronto: International Popular Theatre Alliance,
1984).
16. M. Kaplun and J. O'Sullivan-Ryan, Communication Methods to Promote
Grassroots Participation (Pruis: UNESCO, 1979); Carlos Nuiiez, "Popular
Theatre and Urban Community Organizing in Mexico" in Kidd and Colletta;
Aty Nee, Hacia Un Teatro de la Comunidad: Recuento de Una Experiencia
(Asunci6n: Aty Nee, 1981); Francisco Garz6n Cespedes, EI Teatro de
Participacion Popular y EI Teatro de la Comunidad: Un Teatro de Sus
Protagonistas (Havana: Union de Escritores y Artistas de Cuba, 1977).
17. African National Congress of South Africa, "The Role of Culture in the
Process of Liberation," Education with Production (Botswana) 1(1): 1981,
34-46; International Defence and Aid Fund, "Black Theatre in South Africa,"
Fact Paper on South Africa No.2, 1976; Mshengu, "After Soweto: People's
Theatre and the Political Struggle in South Africa," Theatre Quarterly 9(33):
1979, 31-38; R.M. Kavanagh, South African People's Plays (London:
Heniemann, 1981); K.G. Tomaselli, "The Semiotics of Alternative Theatre
in South Africa," Critical Arts (South Africa) 2(1): 1981, 14-33.
People's theatre has been one of the battle
grounds in the struggle between the dominant
and subordinate classes in Bengal for centuries.
peasants and workers. "Of the people" conveys the Brechtian
sense of advancing the interests of the popular classes. People's
theatre represents:
a medium controlled by the people for expressing their ideas,
concerns, and analysis at a time when other forms of
expression and media are outside their control;
a means of resisting the ideas propagated by the dominant
class, institutions and media;
a way of recovering, reviving, validating, and advancing
the people's own culture and history;
an experience of participation, interaction and self-expres
sion through which people overcome their fears and develop
a sense of their own identity, self-confidence, and class
consciousness through showing people can "act," can change
things, both on stage and in real life;
a people's curriculum, reflecting popular ideas, concerns,
and aspirations rather than the externally imposed textbooks
of conventional education;
a forum for popular education, bringing people together and
building a spirit of solidarity;
a codification or objectification of reality for purposes of
discussion, a means of mirroring reality in order to stand
back and study it critically;
a process of popular education-drama as a tool of analysis,
of testing out through role-playing the limits and possibilities
for action and unveiling the contradictions and structures
underlying everyday reality;
an organizing medium, politicizing people and drawing them
into popular organizations and struggle;
a means of preparing for struggle-clarifying the target,
working out strategies and tactics, and testing out through
role-playing various forms of confrontation;
a means of protesting against oppression and a means of
stirring up people's anger to do something about it;
a form of confrontation and struggle;
a morale-booster during periods of struggle-poking fun at
the oppressors, celebrating victories, and building up
people's spirit.
One must, of course, not over-exaggerate the transforma
tive potential of theatre. Organizing struggle on the stage is
different from doing it in real life and the distinction must not
be blurred. Theatre must be linked with organizing and
struggle. Where these conditions are met, the performance
itself can become a form of struggle. For example some of the
organizations of landless laborers in Bangladesh have sufficient
organizational strength to openly challenge the landlords. The
means they've chosen to do this is to dramatize in a public
forum the landlords' acts of injustice and corruption. One group
found after a while that it was enough to threaten to "put the
landlords on the stage" in order to rein in the landlords'
manipulative and exploitative tendencies.
32
Popular Theatre on the Advance counter-insurgency propaganda. 29 The Japanese also recognized
This groundswell of popular theatre in the Third World
represents a resurgence after a temporary set-back in the sixties.
Popular theatre was a major force in the forties and fifties when
it served as the cultural arm of nationalist struggles allover
the Third World, inspired by experiences such as the
Communist Chinese "resistance theatre" of the thirties. 18
Nationalist movements in Egypt,19 India,20 Indonesia,21
Jamaica,22 Kenya,23 Nigeria,24 Vietnam,25 Zambia,26 and many
other colonial territories used theatre to expose colonial injustice,
develop a nationalist consciousness, and mobilize support for
j the national liberation movement. The colonial rulers
{
I
monopolized the modem mass media (radio and newspapers)
so the nationalists had to rely on their own "media"-the
dance-dramas, songs, poetry, puppetry, and drumming out of
their own traditions.
Moving from village to village behind the lines out of
reach of the colonial forces, cultural workers helped to counter
colonial propaganda, clarify issues and information, prepare
people for new situations, and build up morale and commit
ment.
Theatre was such a powerful weapon in nationalist hands
that, wherever they could, colonial forces tried to suppress it.
For example in Indonesia in the forties the Dutch jailed
hundreds of dalangs (puppeteers) and burned their pUppets;27
in Nigeria during the same period the British banned several
anti-colonial plays by a popular traveling troUpe.28 In Malaysia
the colonial security forces were so impressed by nationalist-in
spired theatre that they organized their own troupes for
18. Roger Howard, "People's Theatre in China since 1907," Theatre Quarterly
1(4): 1971,67-82; Edgar Snow, "Red Theatre," in Red Star over China (New
York: Random House, 1938).
19. J.M. Landau, Studies in the Arab Theatre and Cinema (philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Press, 1958).
20. Kalpana Biswas, "Political Theatre in Bengal: the Indian People's Theatre
Association," Third World Popular Theatre (Toronto: International Popular
Theatre Alliance, 1984); Sudhi Pradhan, (ed.), Marxist Cultural Movement in
India (1936-1947) (Calcutta: National Book Agency, 1979); Farley Richmond,
"The Political Role of Theatre in India," Educational Theatre Journal 25(3):
1973, 318-334.
21. R. Adhikarya and R. Crawford, The Use of Traditional Media in Family
Planning Programmes in Rural Java (Ithaca, New York: Communication Arts
Graduate Teaching and Research Center, Cornell University, 1973); J.R.
Brandon, Theatre in South-East Asia (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University
Press, 1967).
22 .. V.S. Reid, "The Cultural Revolution in Jamaica after 1938," paper
delive:ect to an Conference on the 1938 Labour Uprising
(Januuca), held at the Umverslty of the West Indies, Kingston, Jamaica, 1980;
Rex M. Nettleford, Cultural Action and Social Change: The Case ofJamaica
(Kingston, Jamaica: Institute of Jamaica, 1979); Marina Maxwell, "Towards
a Revolution in the Arts," Savacou 23: 1970, 19-34.
23. Maina wa Kinyatti, Thunder from the Mountains: Mau Mau Patriotic
Songs (London: Zed Press, 1980); Ngiigi wa Thiong'o, Detained: A Writer's
Prison Diary (London: Heinemann, 1981).
24. Ebun Clark and Hubert Ogunde, The Making ofNigerian Theatre (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1979).
25. Tran Dinh Van, "Artistic and Literary Life in the Liberated Zones of
Vietnam," Vietnamese Studies (Hanoi) 14: 1967, 11-23; Peter Weiss, Notes
on the Cultural Life of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam (London: Calder
and Boyars, 1971).
26. A.S. Masiye, Singing for Freedom (London: Oxford University Press
1977). '
27. Adhikarya, op. cit.
28. Clark, op. cit.
the power of theatre and in their occupation of Southeast Asia
(1940-45) imposed strict controls on theatre and deployed
hundreds of local troupes to explain their Greater East Asia
Co-Prosperity propaganda. This scheme had its double-edge:
for example, in the Philippines many of the troupes used the
cover of local languages and historical symbolism to advance
Filipino nationalism. 30
Once the "de-colonizing era" was over, however, there
was a temporary setback. The nationalists who came to power
attempted to contain, control, or co-opt the cultural movements
which had grown out of the nationalist struggle and other
struggles like the anti-feudal and anti-imperialist struggles.
Hundreds of cultural workers belonging to the Indonesian
popular culture movement LEKRA were killed in the
anti-Communist pogrom in 1965;31 the Indian People's Theatre
Association fell apart through external manipulation and its
own internal splits;32 the mass movement of Popular Culture
Centers in Brazil was suppressed after the 1964 COUp;33
bourgeois nationalism and neo-colonial (settlers') theatre
monopolized the cultural field in Africa;34 and the colonial
censorship laws were not only reintroduced but strongly
enforced by many of the new Third World governments.
35
In
South Africa, brutal suppression forced the liberation move
ment underground and adversely affected black cultural
expression which had bolstered the struggle.
By the end of the sixties, the increasing penetration of
multinational capital into the Third World and the growing
class divisions, landlessness, and unemployment led to
struggles by peasants and workers to defend themselves against
the pressures of surplus appropriation and other forms of
victimization and to fight for land, better working conditions,
?nd structural changes. Popular theatre re-emerged as a weapon
m these struggles.
In Thailand
36
and Chile
37
in the early seventies theatre
29. Haynes R. Mahoney, "The Malaysian Information Department's Rural
Communication Programme," unpUblished paper, School of Communications
and Theatre, Temple University, Philadelphia, Pa., 1976.
30.. J.R: Brandon, Theatre in South-East Asia (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
Umverslty Press, 1967); Kaitaro Tsuno, "The Asian Political Theatres" AMPO
(Pacific-Asia Resources Centre) 11(2-3): 1979, 1-9. '
31. Interviews by R. Kidd in Jakarta and Jogjakarta in August 1978.
32. Biswas and Pradhan, op. cit.
33. Emanuel De Kadt, Catholic Radicals in Brazil (London: Oxford University
Press, 1970).
34. Stephen Chifunyise, An Analysis ofthe Development ofTheatre in Zambia
from 1950 to 1970, unpublished M.A. dissertation, University of California
at Los Angeles, .1977; Michael Etherton, The Development ofAfrican Drama
Hutchmson, 1982); Ngiigi wa Thiong'o, op. cit.; David Pownall,
European and African Influences in Zambian Theatre," Theatre Quarterly
1973,49-53; Anthony Akerman, "Why Must These Shows Go On? A
Cntlque of Black Musicals Made for White Audiences," Theatre Quarterly
7(28): 1978, 67-69.
35. Brandon, op. cit., and Tsuno, op. cit.; Edward K. Brathwaite
Contradictory Omens: Cultural Diversity and Integration in the Caribbe;'
1974, Savacou); Andrew Horn, "African Theatre-Docility
and Dissent, Index on Censorship 9(3): 1980, 9-15.
36. Tsuno, op. cit.
37. Carlos Quevedo, Teatro Popular en el SectorCampesino,"
paper presented to the Latm Arnencan Conference on Educational Planning
for the Popular Sectors, Santiago, Chile, August 1970. Santiago, Chile:
Departamento de Teatro y Folklore, Secretariado de Comunicaci6n Social
1970. '
33
played a key role in making peasants and fishennen aware of
their political rights and promoting the fonnation of peasant
and fishennen unions. After the right-wing coups in both
countries the farmers' and fishennen's movements and the
cultural work which supported it were repressed. In the
Philippines a broad-based movement of people's theatre
supported struggles by peasants, fishennen, plantation workers,
and slum-dwellers against the land-grabbing and corruption of
the Filipino ruling class and the exploitative practices of the
multinationals.
38
In India the Chipko movement mobilized its
support among the tribal peoples for their campaigns against
deforestation through songs telling about their innovative tactic
of mass "hugging" (chipko) of trees to prevent contractors from
cutting them down.
39
In lamaica
40
and India
41
the women's
movement made special use of theatre in voicing women's
concerns and grievances, challenging the prejudices and
oppression against women, and building their movement. In
Bangladesh,42 India
43
and Sri Lanka
44
movements of landless
laborers, Harijans, plantation workers, tribal groups and other
oppressed groups developed a vital fonn of participatory theatre
as a core educational and organizing activity within the
movement.
In Latin America rural peasants, native communities,
urban workers and slum-dwellers reappropriated theatre, which
had been monopolized by the middle class, and began to create
their own fonns of theatre closely linked to popular education,
organizing, and struggle:
5
In post-revolutionary Cuba
46
and
Nicaragua
47
popular theatre groups helped in mobilizing
participation in the mass reconstruction campaigns and at the
same time provided a critique ofpost-revolutionary practices.
In independent Africa new fonns of theatre began to
challenge the dominant bourgeois mode. In Zambia
48
a national
theatre movement developed out of the touring and workshops
38. Gaspar, op. cit.; PETA, op. cit.; and Rikken, op. cit.
39. A. Mishra and S. Tripathi, Chipko Movement (New Delhi: People's
Action, 1978).
40. Ford-Smith, op. cit.
41. Omvedt, op. cit.; Mies, op. cit.; and Kanhare, op. cit.
42. Proshika, op. cit.; and Rashid, op. cit.
43. Footnotes 13 and 14.
44. Yohan Devananda, "Theatre and Conscientization in Sri Lanka," Asian
Action (Asian Cultural Forum on Development) 7: 1977,45-47.
45. Augusto Boal, Theatre ofthe Oppressed (New York: Urizen, 1979); Cuba
Review, ''Transforming Theatre," special issue of Cuba Review (Cuba
Resource Center, New York, 1977) 7(4): entire issue; Raul Leis, "Popular
Theatre and Development in Latin America," Educational Broadcasting
International (British Council) 2(1): 1979, 10-13; Gerardo Luzuriaga, Popular
Theatre for Social Change in Latin America (Los Angeles: University of
California, 1978); Garcia Marquez, "Now the Revolution Reaches the
Theatre," Young Cinema and Theatre 4: 1976, 39-44.
46. Sergio Corrieri, "EI Grupo Teatro Escambray, Una Experiencia de la
Revoluci6n," Con junto (Havana) 18: 1973,2-6; Carlos Espinosa Dominguez,
"La Yaya: EI Teatro en Manos del Pueblo," Con junto (Havana) 27: 1976,
2-18; Garz6n Cespedes, op. cit.; Laurette Sejourne, Teatro Escambray: Una
Experiencia (Havana: Editorial de Ciencias Sociales, 1977).
47. Bustos, op. cit.; Brookes, op. cit.; and Epskamp, op. cit.
48. S. Chifunyise and D. Kerr, "Chikwakwa Theatre and the Zambian Popular
Theatre Tradition," Theatre International, forthcoming, 1984; Chikwakwa
Repons (1971-1982), Literature and Languages Department, University of
Zambia, Lusaka, Zambia; Emeka Patrick Idoye, "Popular Theatre and Politics
in Zambia; A Case Study of Chikwakwa Theatre," unpublished Ph.D.
dissertation, Florida State University, 1982.
of a university .traveling theatre group; in Botswana,49 Ghana,so
Malawi,51 Sierra Leone,s2 Swaziland, 53 Tanzania
54
and Zambia
55
development workers and adult educators put on didactic plays
based on village-level research and discussions with villagers;
and in northern Nigeria a university theatre group developed
a village workshop process in which farmers created their own
plays and through this began to analyze the structures of rural
exploitation. 56 In Kenya a community organization of peasants
and workers created their own plays as a fonn of popular
education and popular protest against the land grab, unemploy
ment, exploitative labor practices, foreign domination of the
economy, and other major issues in Kenya.
57
In Angola, Mozambique and Zimbabwe drama played an
educational and morale-building role in the liberated areas
58
and in South Africa a consciousness-raising role in the students'
movement which shook South Africa in the seventies. 59
In Europe
60
and North America
61
migrant workers from
the Third World turned to theatre as a tool of education and
organizing within their own communities and a voice for their
movement.
49. M. Byram and R. Kidd, "Popular Theatre as a Tool for Community
Education in Botswana," Assignment Children (UNICEF) 44: 1978, 35-65;
R. Kidd and M. Byram, Organizing Popular Theatre: The Laedza Batanani
Experience 1974-77 (Gaborone: Popular Theatre Committee, Institute of Adult
Education, University of Botswana, 1979).
50. K. Alta, et al., Cultural Groups in Action: Handbook (Accra, Ghana:
Africa Bureau, German Adult Education Association, 1978); Robert Russell,
"Cultural Groups as an Educational Vehicle," in D.C. Kinsey and l.W. Bing,
Non-Formal Education in Ghana (Amherst: Center for International Education,
University of Massachusetts, 1978).
51. David Kerr, "An Experiment in Popular Theatre in Malawi: The University
Travelling Theatre's Visit to Mbalachanda," Staff Seminar Paper No. 18
(Zomba: Chancellor College, University of Malawi, 1981).
52. Nancy Edwards, "The Role of Drama in Primary Health Care,"
Educational Broadcasting International (British Council) 14(2): 1981, 85-89.
53. Martin Byram, et aI., The Report of the Workshop on Theatre for
Integrated Development (Swaziland)(Swaziiand: Department of Extra-Mural
Services, University of Swaziland, 1981).
54. P. Mlama, "Theatre for Social Development: The Malaya Project in
Tanzania," Third World Popular Theatre (Toronto: International Popular
Theatre Alliance, 1984).
55. Dickson Mwansa, "Theatre for Community Animation in Zambia," Third
World Popular Theatre Newsletter 1(1): 1982, 33-35; S. Chifunyise, et al.,
Theatre for Development: The Chalimbana Workshop (Lusaka: International
Theatre Institute (Zambia) Centre, 1980); David Kerr, "Didactic Theatre in
Africa," Harvard Educational Review 51(1): 1981, 145-155.
56. Salihu Bappa, "Popular Theatre for Adult Education, Community Action
and Social Change," Convergence 14(2): 1981, 24-35; Crow and Etherton,
op. cit.; Michael Etherton, The Development of African Drama (London:
Hutchinson, 1982).
57. Ngtigi, op. cit.
58. R. Hamilton, "Cultural Change and Literary Expression in Mozambique,"
Issue (African Studies Association) 8(1): 1978, 39-42; Mbule10 Mzamane,
"The People's Mood: The Voice of a Guerrilla Poet," Review of African
Political Economy 18: 1980, 29-41.
59. See footnote 17 and F.M. Redford, "Plays from the Proletariat,"
Theatrework 2(5): 1982, 45-48.
60. F.S. Calderon, "Teatro de los Trabajadores Emigrados en Francia," La
Ultima Rueda (Ecuador) 4-5; 1977,94-96; Bernard Granotier, "Immigration
et Expresion Theatrale," Travail Theatral26: 1977, 138-144.
61. J. Harrop and l. Huerta, "The Agitprop Pilgrimage of Luis Valdez and
EI Teatro Carnpesino," Theatre Quarterly 5: 1975, 30-39; Nicolas Kanellos,
"Chicano Theatre in the 70's," Theater (Yale) 12(1): 1980, 33-37.
34
!
I
I
I
I
I
From Outsiders' Theatre as Product to This new mode reflects Freire's and Brecht's emphasis on
Insiders' Theatre as Process
1
The resurgence of people's theatre in the seventies and
I
eighties represented not only a quantitative advance but also a
I

qualitative one. Up until the seventies social action theatre took
the form of "theatre for the people" -theatre performed by
middle-class activists, often touring from community to
community for audiences of peasants and workers.
I
While'this "taking theatre to the people" approach did
encourage cultural democratization by giving the pOl?ular
classes access to a theatre tradition which had been appropnated
by the dominant class, it often failed to its
and organizing goals. As an externally Induced theatre It
reinforced dependence on creative resources outside the
i community and failed to recognize the cultural strengths of the
i
community which had not only survived colonialism but
stiffened resistance against the colonial occupation.
It also represented an imposition of outsiders' agendas
and analysis. The peasants were left out of the action, forced
into their conventional role of watching someone else's culture,
of reproducing their "culture of silence." They remained the
passive recipients of ideas and analysis from the outside, robbe.d
of an opportunity to voice their concerns :md do. theIr
own thinking. As Freire would put It, cultural IS not
"a gift" or mere access to culture but "the conquered nght of
the popular classes to express themselves."62 The finished form
of the theatre-finalized pieces of thinking with no room for
audience contributions-and the tokenistic approach to post
performance discussion which was tacked on at the end as an
empty ritual reinforced this "banking" orientation.
Another problem was the lack of an organizational
Many of the groups had'no links to a movement or organizIng
process. They came into the community, put on their play,
held a discussion and hit the road. Their performance may have
created some interest but once they left there was no one to
do the follow-up education and organizing. Without an
organizational base the performances had a limited effect. The
above is a general picture. There are, of course, other groups
doing "theatre for the people" who are working within or
closely connected to popular movements, are to .local
issues, and perform open-ended dramas permtttIng audience
involvement and discussion.
"Theatre by the people,for the people and of the people"
attempts to overcome the above limitations by
making the peasants the performers, thereby them
the opportunity to express their own concerns, do theIr own
thinking, and control their own learning process;
grounding the theatre experience in the. community,
or movement and in an ongoing educatIOnal and organiZIng
process;
changing the form of the theatre activity so that it no longer
represents a finished product or static piece of thinking but
takes the form of an open-ended or unfinished play-a
process of collective play-making i? which in the
audience participates as actor, dIrector, and cntic and
through it analyzes their situation and tries out various
possibilities for action.
62. Paulo Freire, "Cultural Freedom in Latin America," in L.M. Colonese,
Human Rights and the Liberation ofMan in the Americas (University of Notre
Dame Press, 1970).
active approaches to learning-of peasants becoming
subjects of their transformation, questioning and challengIng
the ruling class ideas rather than remaining the objects of a
propaganda exercise.
63
It also reflects their of
drama (or literacy learning in the case of Freire) to cntlcal
discussion of the social reality. Further, it exhibits some of the
more recent insights of Augusto Boal who adapted Freire's
ideas to the field of theatre.
64
He showed how the oppressed
could create their own codes, thus breaking the division
between actors and audience and the dependence on externally
created codes, and also how they could use a continuous,
process of codification (dramatization) and decodification
(analysis) to explore reality, their own conditioning and
of overcoming oppression. Through this process of changIng
and rechanging the drama the peasants could not only see that
reality could be changed but also experience a process of
transformation which might give them the self-confidence to
make changes in their real (rather than dramatized) lives.
Restoring the confidence of the peasants in their own cultural
production might help to extend their confidence into the
political and economic spheres by, as Thom Cross puts
it-"Acting to act."
A Brief History of People's Theatre
and Struggle in Bangladesh
People's theatre has been one of the battlegrounds in the
struggle between the dominant in
Bengal for centuries. In its long history of foreign dom1OatlOn
and of hierarchical structural relationships, people's theatre has
not only reflected the struggles between the dominant castes
(Brahmins and Khotriyas) and classes (feudal overlords,
foreign invaders, bourgeoisie) and the subordinate castes
(Boishyas and Shudras) and classes (middlemen,
artisans, landless laborers) but also has served as a weapon 10
this struggle-as a means of reinforcing the domination of the
ruling classes or as a tool of challenging their exploitation and
rallying popular struggle against oppression. .
In pre-thirteenth century Bengal the mythological dramas
which had their origins in the puranic epics (Ramayana and
Mahabharata) tended to reinforce the feudal status quo and the
Brahmanic hegemony. While they were extremely popular with
their rural audiences, they functioned primarily as a means of
accommodation-of adjusting people to their situation-and
as a mechanism of escape from the hard labor. Through
showing the importance and heroism of the gods they taught
deference to the feudal overlords and acceptance of the
overlord's right to the surplus from the peasants' labor. They
also reinforced belief in a supernatural order which controlled
the world, inducing acceptance of a fatalistic and submissive
approach to the world. The dramas rarely challenged the feudal
!
power structure and where they did this was a type of
"overturning" necessary for the preservation of the system (as
in, for example, Carnival in mediaeval Europe).
63. Bertolt Brecht, Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic
(translated by John Willett, London: Eyre Methuen, 1964); Paulo Freire,
Cultural Action for Freedom (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1972); Paulo Freire,
Pedagogy of the Oppressed (New York: Seabury Press, 1970).
64. Boal, op. cit.
35
I
In the thirteenth century during the short rule of the South
Indian Vaisnava Sena kings, a new fonn of people's resistance
"theatre" emerged to challenge the caste hierarchy of
Brahmanical law. Bhakti, fervent devotionalism in song and
dance, represented the upsurge of popular classes against the
social discrimination and economic exploitation of the
Brahmanic system. The songs condemned the hypocrisy and
decadence of the system and advocated a new more egalitarian
order.
In the fourteenth century, with the coming of the Moslems,
mass conversions took place, the language of the courts
changed to Persian, and taxes were increased. In spite of this
the Bhakti movement continued to grow and gain influence
among the popular classes. The songs and dances flourished
in the villages as part of this movement and expressed both
defiance against the foreign rulers and resistance against the
Brahmanic order. The perfonnances did, however, absorb a
number of Islamic influences.
In the latter part of the eighteenth century with the arrival
of the British and the introduction of education there was a
brief period of "cultural renaissance." Once the Bengali
educated elite began to see that their interests could not be
accommodated by colonialism, they began to resist colonial
rule. The new fonns of urban theatre learned from the
colonizers became a powerful tool for protest.
When the British brutally enforced cultivation of indigo
in Bengal in the mid-nineteenth century, Nildarpan (literally
the "Indigo Mirror") was produced in 1870 to expose the
atrocities committed against farmers who refused to plant their
fields with indigo. This play was immediately banned. The
nationalist feeling that it aroused provoked the censorship law
of 1876 by which the British attempted to suppress anti-colonial
cultural expression in the Indian sub-continent.
65
Nildarpan
was later followed by a number of other "mirror" plays dealing
with struggles against the Zamindars (large landowners),
tea-plantation owners, bureaucrats, police, and others.
In the 1900s these spontaneous outbursts of anti-colonial
protest culminated in a more sustained nationalist struggle. The
"traditional" theatre of the villages became a symbol for the
struggle and the Bengali elite who had previously ignored or
denigrated traditional theatre began to revalue it. Tagore and
others appropriated these arts and advocated their use in
programs of cultural revival and anti-colonial protest within
the context of rural fairs and festivals.
In the 1920s the playwright Mukunda Das transfonned
the rural folk fonn of jatra, which had traditionally dealt with
historical or mythological themes, and created a new fonn
Swadeshi (Nationalist) jatra which dealt with the contemporary
themes of colonial injustice, caste oppression, feudal exploita
tion, and tactics for anti-colonial struggle. The colonial
government "rewarded" him for this innovation by sending him
to prison.
65. Theatre was such a powerful instrument for arousing anti-colonial
sentiment that it was the first cultural form to be gagged with a censorship
law (1876), followed by the vernacular press (1877) and the right to carry
arms (1878). The law remains in force today in India and Bangladesh, requiring
all playscripts to be cleared by the authorities before a performance license is
issued. One group after India's Independence (1947) wanted to perform
Nildarpan which was written in 1870. When they sent the script to the police
for approval, the police wrote back asking them to get the playwright to come
to the police station.
Performing for the people represented the old
politics-urban-based left-wing groups preach
ing revolt to the masses, a kind of political
pamphleteering, of manipulating people with
slogans and lectures. It had little effect.
In the 1940s all this activity culminated in the creation of '\
a national popular theatre movement, the Indian People's
Theatre Association (IPTA). This operated allover India but
its strongest contingent was in Bengal. Its initial work was to
alert people to the possibility of Japanese invasion and to
promote temporary support for Britain's war effort. In 1943
during the Bengal famine in which five million peasants starved
to death, the Bengal IPTA troupe perfonned allover India with
a play exposing the native hoarders and black marketeers,
raising over 200,000 rupees and launching a campaign to "Save
People's Food."
In 1947 with the departure of the British, the Indian
subcontinent was divided into India and Pakistan. East Bengal,
whose population is primarily Moslem, became part of
Pakistan, and their links with IPTA dissolved. When the
Punjabi bureaucracy and military of West Pakistan became the
dominant force in the new state and imposed Urdu as the
national language, a bitter revolt erupted. This took the fonn
of a "language movement" in which songs and dramas played
a primary role in stirring up nationalist feelings. The cultural
work was so effective that many of the playwrights and actors
were arrested. One of the playwrights, Munir Chowdhury,
wrote his most famous play, Kabor (Graveyard), while he was
in prison. Along with other prisoners he perfonned it right in
jail.
The nationalist struggle of the fifties and sixties and
continuing victimization by Pakistan's military rulers culmi
nated in the War of Liberation in 1971 in which songs and
drama again played a mobilizing role.
During this period (1950-1970) in the villages the
peripatetic theatre-the jatra, kobigan, jarigan and other
"traditional" theatres-began to undergo a transfonnation. As
capital increasingly penetrated the villages, theatre became
more of a commodity. Traditional perfonners who fonnedy
combined work in the fields with part-time work as perfonners
stopped perfonning altogether or became employed on a
full-time commercial basis. latra groups which fonnedy
operated under the sponsorship of a zamindar or plantation
owner began to do their tours on a commercial basis, working
out contracts with the landlords in each village.
Aranyak-Performing for the People
Aranyak was founded soon after Bangladesh's Indepen
dence (December 1971) by a group of middle-class youth who
had been deeply affected by their experience in the liberation
war. Along with the peasants and workers they had hoped that
the liberation war would lead to a true revolution, one in which
land would be redistributed, other feudal structures trans
fonned, and Bangladesh's econmy taken over by the people
36
Carl Gaspar
of Bangladesh. When they saw their hopes were futile, that
the rural structures remained intact, the economy still under
foreign control, and a small comprador class monopolizing the
benefits of Independence, they decided to do something about
this betrayal of the people's hopes and to fight for change.
The vehicle they chose for their political challenge was
theatre and they initially looked to Calcutta's group theatre for
their ideas and inspiration. They formed an amateur group
made up of about thirty people, most of whom worked in other
jobs during the day in school-teaching, banks, offices, and
factories. They came together each evening or on the weekends
I
to rehearse or to give performances.
I
During the seventies they concentrated on producing one
major theatrical work a year, all of them on political themes
and performed in urban areas. While these performances
I
succeeded in theatrical terms, they failed to have the desired
political impact. Their audiences, which largely consisted of
urban, middle-class people, reacted emotionally to the plays,
but once they were over, their commitment to social action
died. The praise of theatre critics, the publication of scripts,
I the invitation to do TV work were no measure of success. In
1
I
fact, the lack of resistance to their work by the ruling class
was a clear indication of its limited effectiveness. Their work
Aranyak abandoned their role as performers and
began to work as animateurs, working with
rather than for the rural poor. They stopped
imposing their own image of the landless
laborers' world and encouraged the laborers to
create their own dramas.
So they decided to change their audience and tum to the
rural peasants who make up 90 percent of Bangladesh's
population. They took their plays out of Dakha and put them
on in open-air locations in the rural areas. Thousands of people
turned up for these performances, but in spite of the enthusiastic
reception the new approach seemed equally problematic.
Performing for the people represented the old politics
urban-based left-wing groups preaching revolt to the masses,
a kind of political pamphleteering, of manipulating people with
slogans and lectures. It had little effect. The spectators
remained the passive consumers of someone else's revolution;
they had no involvement in shaping and discussing the issues
or in creating the play. Consequently the performance was an
ephemeral "here-today-gone-tomorrow" experience in their
lives. It represented the same top-down structures, of outside
groups telling the peasants what to do. In short it had no
mobilizing potential in building a self-reliant and critically
conscious popular movement.
Making a Change: Getting the People to
Do the Acting and the Thinking
Around this time Aranyak made contact with Proshika, a
Bangladeshi rural animation organization. Proshika's
animateurs, who are permanently based in the villages, work
with the landless laborers in a process of popular education
and organizing. In each village they form groups of 15-20
landless laborers who meet regularly, build up trust in each
other, eliminate conflicts among themselves, overcome depen
dence on the moneylender (through collective savings), talk
about their problems of exploitation and victimization, and
along with other groups organize struggles to confront injustice
and corruption by the landlords and to demand better working
conditions.
In their residential training programs which support the
animation work in the field, Proshika regularly uses role-playing
and socio-drama. In a training workshop held in 1978 the
participants got so excited by an experience of making a
was becoming, they felt, absorbed by the system and their socio-drama that, upon returning to their village, they
protest muted. performed the play to their fellow laborers and later to landless
37
laborers in other villages. Proshika immediately recognized the
potential of this educational and organizational tool which the
landless themselves had demonstrated and after further
experimentation organized a national workshop to promote the
new activity.
The Proshika workshop brought together twenty rural
organizers (animateurs), twenty landless group leaders, and a
few middle-class cultural workers. It adapted a training
approach developed in Botswana whose basic notion was that
theatre for social animation should be learned not as an abstract
concept but as a practical process grounded in a specific social
context. In the Bangladesh situation this meant sending the
workshop participants in teams to villages where they met with
the group of landless laborers which Proshika had organized.
For three successive evenings the workshop participants
listened to and asked questions about the landless laborers'
problems and histories-both as individuals and as a group.
Then each team, along with a few members from the landless
group, worked for four days back at the workshop center to
develop a play which was then presented back to the landless
group and discussed.
One of the real discoveries of the workshop was the power
of the landless laborers' own stories. There was no need to
fictionalize, to create new stories out of the imagination of the
landless. Most of the plays were drawn from their real
experiences-for example, their experience of going into debt,
losing land or being tricked out of their land; victimization,
exploitation and manipulation as laborers; and the struggles of
their groups to defend themselves against oppression and to
fight for a decent living. Sometimes a collective story was
developed out of the stories of a number of landless laborers;
in other cases one of the more vital stories of a single landless
laborer became the plot-line for the drama.
Another discovery was the amazing acting ability of the
landless. In one village, the local group of landless laborers
spontaneously decided to develop their own play in response
to the visit to their village of the workshop team. The play told
the story of one of their successful struggles:
One of their members had been unfairly accused of stealing
water from an irrigation scheme and forcibly prevented from
harvesting his crop. (He had a very small plot adjacent to
the irrigation scheme but was too poor to join the irrigation
scheme.) When the group helped him to reap the crop (in
order to protect him from the threatened beating) the
landlord who was causing all the trouble (as chairman of
the irrigation scheme) used his influence to get the man
arrested. The group members rallied the other groups in the
area and marched to the police station. The show of force
worked and his release represented a major victory for the
landless.
The group put on this play for the workshop participants,
with almost minimal preparation, on the second evening o(the
village visits. (On the first evening they had simply talked
about their problems and stories, but once they understood the
workshop was about theatre they offered to dramatize the
irrigation scheme story.) The first time it was performed it
dragged a lot with too much dialogue and not enough action.
38
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;:;
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l
Two of the group members were invited to join in the day-time
sessions at the workshop center. They came along the following
day and participated in a session on such basic dramatic
techniques as showing not telling and limiting the dialogue.
At the end of the day they decided to abandon the workshop:
they thanked the workshop organizers but said they preferred
to work with their own group. They said that the other workshop
participants would leave at the end of the workshop and they
would be left with a play but no performers. So they went back
to the village and worked on the play on their own. When they
returned a few days later to put on the play it was totally
transformed-lots of action, lots of miming (showing their
work in the fields and other actions rather than talking about
them) and much less dialogue. 66
The middle-class cultural workers who had been invited
to the workshop felt totally overwhelmed by this and other
performances by the landless. They had come thinking they
had something to teach the landless; by the end of the workshop
66. This group is continuing to do drama on its own, perfonning in its own
village, in other villages and occasionally at large rallies as a way of
encouraging other landless laborers to form their own groups, to build
inter-group solidarity, and to fight for their rights. Within their own village
drama has become publicly recognized as a powerful weapon against injustice.
Having successfully exposed the landlords' corruption, manipulation and
brutality, on a number of occasions, they have reached the stage where they
feel they no longer need to perform the drama. Simply threatening to "put the
landlords on the stage again" is enough to caution the landlords and make
them think twice about continuing their corrupt or manipulative practices.
they felt totally the opposite, that if anything it was they who
had learned. The improvisational and acting skills of the
landless were prodigious: there was no way they could match
this lively, vital improvised theatre with a scripted, highly
rehearsed, urban-produced facsimile.
For Proshika the organizing potential was clear. Their
own work was undergoing a transformation in which theatre
could play an important role. Up until 1979 a lot of their work
had gone into developing individual groups, supporting
economic projects like fish farming and crop production
undertaken by these groups, and helping to break the
dependence on the moneylender through the groups' collective
savings.
By 1980 a new strategy was emerging. Some of the groups
began to recognize the limitations of the project work and to
challenge the oppression and victimization they faced in the
villages-beatings by landlords, exploitative working condi
tions, feudal obligations to landlords, loss of their land through
cheating, and unjust court decisions. In response, a number of
groups organized together to confront oppressive landlords on
specific issues.
This new type of activity required a new organizing
strategy-one group on its own was too weak to confront the
local power structure. Groups had to work in concert if they
were to present a strong enough challenge. A wage strike, for
instance, could only be successful if all of the laborers in the
area supported it.
This meant that more and more landless had to be brought
into the "movement," more groups had to be formed in each
39
village, and links had to be built among groups in the same
area. This shift from "project" to "movement" demanded far
more organizers than Proshika could provide-it meant that
the landless themselves had to become the organizers for
building the movement.
For this new work of mobilizing and solidarity-building
theatre was extremely well-suited. It worked much better than
speeches, was not dependent on literacy skill, could be
performed by the landless, and touched an emotional core-an
important factor in overcoming the landless laborers' initial
fear of doing something, of getting organized, of fighting for
their rights.
Theatre also suited the new perspective. By simply
presenting the every-day stories of the landless, theatre showed
that
little could be achieved by economic projects within the
existing unequal power structure;
real change required addressing and confronting incidents
of harassment, exploitation, and corruption;
oppression at the village level involved a complex system
of collusion among the rural landed class, the bureaucracy,
and the police.
From Performing to Animation
Aranyak was equally impressed by the workshop and
when a second workshop was held in 1981 one of Aranyak's
members helped to organize it. They immediately recognized
this new approach as the breakthrough they were looking for.
The landless laborers clearly had an amazing knack for
drama. All that was needed was some encouragement, to help
them gain some confidence and to show them they could do
it. Moreover, getting the landless laborers to do the dramas
transformed the whole process: the laborers doing the "acting"
were taking the first awareness-raising and confidence-building
step toward real action. The activity of drama-making could
become a group-building experience in which participants
deepened their understanding, bolstered their morale, and
developed the courage and organizational unity to fight for
their rights.
So Aranyak abandoned their role as performers and began
to work as animateurs, working with rather than for the rural
poor. They stopped imposing their own image of the landless
laborers' world and encouraged the laborers to create their own
dramas. They saw their work, in the way Augusto Boal does,
as encouraging the peasants to re-appropriate the theatre which
had been stolen from them. Historically the peasants had made
art: art and labor had been united. But with the change of
society art had been alienated from the peasants and
appropriated by the middle class. Aranyak's role was no longer
to sing the songs for the people and keep them quiet. Their
task was to show the peasants that they could act, that they
could express themselves and enjoy themselves through making
drama, that they could analyze their life-situation through this
medium, and that it could be used as a weapon in their struggle
against oppression and victimization.
The Aranyak Workshops:
Moving Back to the Villages
Aranyak's animation work has taken a different direction
than Proshika's. Since they have no funding they have been
unable to put their workers into the villages on a full-time
basis. Each member can only do theatre in his/her spare
time-they all have full-time jobs in teaching or the
bureaucracy or the private sector. Instead they run short, 10-12
day workshops in various areas of Bangladesh, trying to build
up interest in cultural work among the landless and where
possible promote the formation of landless drama groups. Their
short-term aim is to get these groups going and operating on
their own without an over-dependence on Aranyak. Their
long-term aim is to facilitate the development of a national
movement of landless drama groups.
The Aranyak "workshop" is not a workshop in the
conventional sense of formally organized learning in a
residential setting on a sustained day-long basis. It is more of
an engaged experience working with the landless laborers in
their own communities and fitting into their own patterns of
living and the constraints on them. Instead of bringing the
landless laborers out of their own environment, the Aranyak
animateur moves into the village and works with the landless
in their own social situation-staying with them, joining them
in their periods of leisure, and eating with them.
One implication is that workshop sessions cannot be held
throughout the day, as is possible in a residential workshop.
The animateur can only meet with the landless on an intensive
basis in the evenings because during the day the landless are
at work. Another implication is that the "workshop" sessions
are not in an isolated and protected environment like a
residential training center. They take place within the village
and are exposed to the same intimidation and pressures that
the landless face every day from the landlords.
The workshops are held in villages with no previous
experience of landless organizing. This differs from the
Proshika cultural work in which drama is being introduced as
an "add-on" activity to groups which are already organized.
The basic objective is to use each workshop as an organizing
tool, to build a landless group through bringing people together
for a drama-making experience. Since there has been no
previous animation in the village a good deal of the time is
spent in building trust and developing a relationship with the
landless laborers.
The Aranyak team normally consists of five members
four animateurs and a coordinator. Each animateur is assigned
to a different village, all within the same area, and the
coordinator provides back-up support, and informs team
members about what is happening in the other villages. He
also brings the team together from time to time to share
experiences and to advise one another.
Each workshop goes through the following stages which
will be taken up below.
1. establishing a base in the village
2. winning the landless' confidence
3. listening to the landless' problems
4. analyzing these problems and making a scenario
5. improvising, analyzing, making changes
6. community performance
7. post-performance discussions
8. follow-up and evaluation
Setting Up a Base
The initial obstacle is the landlords. They know it
immediately when an outsider enters the Village. They come
to find out what is going on and to offer hospitality. When
40
I
,
I
i
they discover the animateur's intentions, they at first cannot
understand, and ask: "Why are you going to work with those
poor people? What do they know? We know many stories, we
can provide you with actors. Why don't you stay with us?"
I
But the animateur resists all offers of hospitality from the
landlords. Being associated with them would increase the
doubts of the landless and jeopardize the work. The let-out is
the local school: it provides a non-controversial base for the
work, a place that the landless feel comfortable about visiting
and better than the home of a landless family which would be
too exposed, inviting immediate suspicion and possible
intimidation.
The animateur sleeps on the floor at the school and
prepares food there. Once the landless get to know the
animateur, they come to visit there. Often some of the initial
research (listening to the landless talk about their lives) is
conducted there. The local schoolteachers, although better off
than many of the villagers, are often very supportive. Other
allies from the middle class are often the traditional doctors
who are popular among the poor villagers. Having their support
helps to break down some of the suspicion.
Winning Their Trust
With the school as a base the animateur starts to get to
know the landless laborers. He works through a local contact
person-a landless laborer who has been identified by others
as a potential leader. Sometimes the person suggested is
unsuitable but usually the references are correct. The
designated person tends to be vocal, militant, and less fearful
of the local landed class. The animateur starts by winning this
person's confidence and over time persuades him or her to call
a number of landless people together to a common place. If
the process of going through a potential local leader fails, the
animateur has to develop other contacts and encourage people
to come together.
Courtesy of Ross Kidd
Carl Gaspar
At the same time the animateur starts to get to know other
landless laborers, visiting them in their fields during the day
and meeting them at their homes at night. These encounters
are informal-sometimes one-to-one, sometimes with a small
informal group. A brief encounter in the fields during the day
might turn into an invitation to come for a visit at night.
The object at this stage is to gain the trust of the landless.
They are initially suspicious. They have seen other outsiders
come to their village to talk with the "big men." "Why are you
coming to talk to us?" they say. "Are you here to help us or
to spy on us?"
The animateur explains that, far from being a policeman
or a spy or a researcher, "I've come to make drama, so I'm
here to collect stories from you. We want to make dramas with
you based on your own stories." When this fails to strike a
chord, the animateur gets them talking about various cultural
forms-radio, television, cinema. "00 these media serve your
purpose?" They respond, "No." "Well, why not?" They
explain, after a bit, that none of these media talk about their
lives-they only deal with the lives of the rich people.
Eventually they begin to see that drama can be an alternative,
a means of reflecting their own lives. The animateur suggests
to them that they can make the drama themselves. Their
reaction is uncertain; "Can we do it? Is it possible?" The
animateur coaxes them to try it out, to put on a short skit about
a real incident in their lives. After a bit of hesitation and some
prompting they put on a highly entertaining skit. This breaks
the ice, gives them some confidence, and catches their interest.
The animateur then gets them to talk about the major events
in their lives. By remaining quiet and merely listening, showing
genuine interest in what they are saying, the animateur
encourages them to tell their life-stories in great detail. Through
this process interest grows and the landless begin to say, "This
person has come to listen to us, not to talk. He wants to hear
our stories, rather than giving us speeches or sermons. We can
work with him." Once this basic trust is established, the
animateur encourages them to come together and hold regular
meetings.
41
At this initial stage when talking to the landless about
their problems, often the landless are reluctant to admit they
have problems. When specific questions are asked-such as
"Do you have sufficient food?" "Can you afford to send your
child to school?" or "Do you get adequate medical care?" -the
landless give a clear response-"No." The animateur follows
this up by questioning them about the food, education, and
medical treatment that the rich people get, and, when they
comment on the difference, asking them why. Often the
explanation is simply "It's Allah's will." When they respond
in this way, the animateur then asks, "Why does Allah patronize
these people who've been stealing your land and remain silent
when you're dying of starvation?" Often this challenge
confuses them, but starts them thinking. This process continues
in the second phase when the landless come together as a group.
Listening to People's Stories
The local contact person calls people together, organizes
the meetings and gets people to come. The group normally
consists of 30-50 people, the majority landless but a few are
marginal farmers, schoolteachers, traditional doctors, hawkers,
and the like. The meetings are held in the evenings-the only
time the landless are not working, for landless laborers work
seven days a week. Meetings go on until midnight, with people
arriving at different times throughout the evening, depending
on their work and other commitments. During this phase, the
animateur continues to make rounds of visits during the day,
building trust, learning more background information, and
continuing to research the problems together with the landless.
The initial meetings are taken up with story-telling. Each
person stands up and tells his or her story. Many of these
stOlies the animateur has heard already-through various
informal encounters in the first phase-but this collective
story-telling is important. It is only through telling each other
their stories that people begin to recognize the commonality of
their experience-that they have all lost their land in a similar
way and that they are facing the same forms of victimization,
manipulation and exploitation by the landed classes.
Almost all of the stories are about money-lending-how
a moneylender gives money, takes back an exorbitant interest,
and eventually grabs the debtor's land. This is the common
experience of every landless person.
These stories are recorded-on paper and/or a tape
recorder-so they can be referred back to from time to time.
Often the recording is done during the informal encounters in
the initial phase when, it is felt, a more accurate account is
given. Once people come together as a group, formalities come
in and some people are too shy to expose their whole life story
in front of their fellow villagers.
Making the Scenario
But this is not always the case. In some groups every
person wants to tell a story and in great detail. Then the problem
comes of which story to select as the basis for the play. Usually
the animateur encourages the group members to make one story
out of the common elements of different stories-losing land
to a moneylender, the economic demands of marriage with its
dowry, being cheated on paper contracts because of illiteracy.
The more lively and unique experiences also get woven into
the play. The group itself works out the story-line, arguing
about the focus, basis of conflict, and the climax.
The animateur attempts to be as non-directive as possible,
leaving the scenario-making to the group members. Sometimes
they get so emotionally involved that the drama becomes a
six-hour production. Then the animateur intervenes and asks
how they might make the story more concise: "Suppose you
only have one hour to tell this story to a man who will leave
this place in one hour's time. How would you narrate your
life's experience of fifty years in one hour? What would be thf
main elements?" After that the animateur gets them to list the
major events in the main character's life much as follows: "My
father died, his land was fragmented, I received half of a biga
of land, my mother came to live with me, I got married and
we had six kids, our debts grew, I borrowed from the
moneylender, my land was taken away from me, I started to
work as a landless laborer, my child fell sick and died ...."
The group then makes these major incidents the story-line of
the drama, and all the minor happenings get chopped out.
42
1
I
Theatre by the people
Deepening the Analysis
In the course of developing the play, the animateur
encourages the landless to develop their own thinking, to
analyze why they are poor and downtrodden, to make the
connections among moneylenders, the local courts, the village
council, and the bureaucracy.
The analysis is important. As Bappa and Etherton
67
have
shown:
Those who are oppressed already know of their oppression:
and a play which delineates this oppression superficially
tells them nothing which they do not know already. They
know too that there never is a simple solution to their
problems: and a play which claims to have the answers is
not really to be trusted.
The animateur stimulates the landless to analyze their
experiences through questions, through insistently challenging
assumptions and conventional explanations of reality to get at
the underlying structures and contradictions, to highlight the
discrepancy between their expressed views about reality and
-.
their daily experience of it. If one of the stories is on the issue
of dowry, the animateur might ask them who benefits from
this practice. When they analyze it, they discover that marriage
has become a business and women a mere commodity. The
whole enterprise primarily benefits the moneylenders who loan
people money to pay the dowry.
The animateur does not preach or impose pre-digested
analyses or use big words like imperialism, neo-colonialism,
capitalism, and class struggle, but lets them discover the
meaning of these words and concepts in trying to understand
their own reality. One group wanted to make a play about the
deep tube-wells that were being introduced into their village.
Instead of branding this "an imperialist scheme devised by the
multinationals to control Third World production," the
animateur simply asked a few questions: "Who controls this
new technology? Why do they control it? Why is it being
67. S. Bappa and M. Ehterton, "Third World Popular Theatre: Voice of the
Oppressed,' Commonwealth 25(4): 126-30.
introduced? Who benefits?" This was enough to stimulate the
group's own thinking. They discovered that control over this
new factor of production had been monopolized by the richer
farmers in the area and that the introduction of this new
technology had in fact precipitated a new power structure within
the village. What could have been a new means of livelihood
controlled by the landless had become, once again, the
monopoly of the local elite. They also began to recognize who
ultimately benefitted from the tube-wells, the multinational
who produces them. The landless laborers began to understand.
"imperialism" not as a Marxist slogan manufactured in ~ a k h a ,
but as a specific relationship connecting production in their
village to a specific multinational corporation.
Another play showed, through a simple but real story,
how Japanese imperialism was impoverishing and killing
people in Bangladesh. The story was about "2-in-l ," a Japanese
radio/tape recorder which has been imported into Bangladesh
in huge quantities and which has become a status symbol in
the rural areas. (Bangladesh has a free-port, import-oriented
economy which is linked with businesses in Hong Kong and
Singapore.)
In the story a man threatened to divorce his wife unless
his father-in-law gave him a 2-in-1. To buy the 2-in-1 the
father-in-law sold his remaining piece of land, thus becoming
landless. In spite of the gift the man divorced his wife, ...
and soon after the woman committed suicide.
Improvising and Rehearsing the Drama
Once a story-line is agreed on, the group starts to
improvise the drama. There is need for very little direction and
the animateur limits advice to a few points on theatrical
technique-how to stand on the stage, how to project one's
voice, "showing" actions rather than talking about them.
Once the landless see they can do it, they get on with the
work and the animateur sits back and becomes an appreciative
audience. The landless have a wealth of stories and experiences
to draw on and they work these into their roles and dialogues
with great skill. What is lacking in "artistic polish" is far
outweighed by the exuberance and wit of their acting, their
obvious joy in performing, the genuineness of their expression,
and their commitment to the ideas and experiences they are
communicating. They love playing the oppressor and have a
greatinsight into his character and motivation. Once they get
over the initial fear of being victimized, they portray him with
great satire, bringing out all his mannerisms and idiosyncracies.
The problem, if anything, is not how to get them going
but how to contain their enthusiasm once they get started. The
animateur's job is to help them to be more selective, to decide
on the essential points for each scene and to cut out some of
the extraneous detail.
By this stage the group has become very interested and
involved and the initial reserve has gone. The group members
take on the responsibility of finding a place to hold rehearsals
and to light them. Everyone begins coming at the right time
for rehearsals and the morale is high.
Organizing the Performance and Follow-Up
Once the play is ready, the group publicizes it through
word-of-mouth and performs it in front of the whole village in
a public place. A day or two later all the groups (from the four
villages) come together to a common place to present their
plays to each other. By this stage so much interest has been
43
generated that people from each village come with their troupe
to the final performance.
After the final performance each animateur spends two or
three days doing "follow-up," discussing the issues of the play
with the landless, evaluating the whole experience with them,
and recording their views. After encouraging them to continue
with the drama work on their own and to form their own
organization, the animateur stresses the importance of building
unity, of overcoming the petty conflicts and quarrels among
themselves, and forming an organization to defend their
interests.
Finally, the animateur exchanges addresses with them and
leaves. Often the animateurs receive letters from the village,
giving their feedback on the workshop and describing what has
subsequently happened in the village. The animateur maintains
contact with the village group, through correspondence afid
occasional visits, but tries on the whole to stimulate their
independence and self-reliance. For this purpose groups in the
same area are encouraged to maintain contact and support each
other.
The Landlords Retaliate
Changes in the village or even talked-about changes do
not take place without disturbing the status quo. Once the
landless start meeting together as a group there is immediate
suspicion. Once it becomes clear that this is not some whimsical
diversion but a serious examination of what is happening in
the village the landlords intervene.
Even at the initial stage some of the landlords spread
rumors and try to sway the landless against the animateur.
When the process reaches the rehearsal state this opposition
becomes even stronger. In a number of cases the landlords
have sent thugs to break up the rehearsals and threaten the
group members.
In one case the group had developed a story on a local
moneylender who was so influential that he could manipulate
local politicians on the village council and local officials of the
bureaucracy. When he heard about the play, he sent his pawns
to stop it. The village council chairman came to the rehearsal
and accused the group of manufacturing lies. The group
defended the authenticity of the story and refused to be
brow-beaten. Later the chairman sent some goondas (thugs) to
break up the rehearsal. The goondas threatened to beat the
performers and most of the performers went home without
finishing the rehearsal.
The animateur and a few of the performers stayed behind to
confront the goondas. In the end the animateur had to use his
class position to fight back:
Look, we come from Dakha [The goondas: 'We don't care.
We'll not even spare you!'] We know many things and if
you touch us you'll be in trouble. You may be running this
local show but we know bigger people-for example the
inspector-general. Ifyou bring in your local big-shots, we'll
call in our big-shots.
This counter-threat seemed to work and the confrontation ended
without violence.
The next day the group had to find another rehearsal space.
They appealed to other people in the area who were opposed
to the moneylender and council chairman. A meeting place
was provided and the rehearsals continued. The council
chairman and moneylender were angry but could do nothing.
The rehearsals continued-with a new scene being added to
show the collusion between the moneylender and the local
officials-and the group gave its performance without being
stopped.
In another case the local power elite tried to sabotage the
final performance of a play. The play in this case was about
the local bank manager who had been taking 40 percent of the
loans given for agriculture as a bribe. When the bank manager
heard about the play, he paid some goondas to stop it. They
went to the performers' houses and threatened the actors,
saying: "If you put on this play we'll not spare you. Why are
you wasting your time with these people from Dakha? They'll
leave tomorrow and where will you be? This play won't give
you food to live, ... so why all this nuisance?"
In spite of these threats the landless were determined to
go ahead with it. They said, "This is our chance to speak our
own truth." So they continued the rehearsals and told everyone
in the area to come to the final performance which was to be
held at the school. The bank manager then pressured the
headmaster to stop the group from using the school field for
the performance, but by this time it was too late. All of the
villagers from the surrounding area had gathered. When they
heard that the performance was being prevented, a huge
discussion developed and the actors explained everything. The
discussion itself raised the major points of the play-the
bribery, corruption, use of goondas to threaten people,
collusion among local officials, the various attempts to stop
the play. In a way there was no need for a play, for the
discussion had served the purpose, making people aware of
the bank manager's corruption and manipulations and the need
to do something about it.
The crowd was so incensed that they insisted that the play
be given and demanded that the headteacher provide the
school's electricity to light the performance. People kept
coming and eventually over 3,000 people had gathered. The
headmaster grew afraid and at 8 p.m. he finally gave in. The
light connection was provided, a stage was quickly erected,
and the performance was given without further opposition.
During the arguments between the group and the bank
manager in the school headmaster's office, the animateur
surreptitiously taped the conversation. When the bank manager
discovered that all of his threats had been recorded on tape,
he became afraid and tried to bribe the animateur, first offering
1,000 rupees, then 2,000, then 5,000, and finally 10,000. This
further case of attempted bribery convinced the group to go
ahead with the performance.
Immediate Impact of the Workshop
What has been the effect of the workshops? The most
significant impact has been the change in people's conscious
ness. Before the workshops many of the landless were resigned
to their situation, explaining their impoverishment as the result
of bad luck or the will of Allah. They saw no contradiction in
their society. They were on the whole passive and skeptical
about making any change in their lives.
Once they produced a play and found their lives portrayed
in these plays, they became much more conscious of the
exploitation and victimization which was keeping them down.
More than that, they began to recognize that they could do
something about the exploitation and manipulation if they could
get organized. Part of this growing awareness was a heightened
self-confidence, an awareness that they could do something
44
they could make a play and they could also organize to make
demands and fight against oppression.
In a few cases the workshop resulted in some immediate
action. For instance, one workshop was held in a fishing
community whose livelihood had been destroyed by the
damming of a river further upstream. The fishermen decided
to make their play about the land created by the silting of the
river. This land had been grabbed by the larger landowners in
the area, even though there is a policy in Bangladesh that this
kind of land should be given to fishermen. The play inspired
the fishermen to get organized and to occupy the land. There
was lots of resistance from the landlords but in the end the
fishermen prevailed and some of the large landowners had to
leave the area.
The Landlords Try to Co-Opt the Process
Instant action, however, is rare. The workshop is only
two weeks long and this is only enough time to get
organization-building started. While the experience does open
their eyes to the possibility of change and the importance of
organizing, it is too short to solidify a group. Once the
animateur leaves there is a power vacuum which the landlords
attempt to occupy. The landless remain heavily dependent on
them-for jobs and loans-and this dependence can be
manipulated.
In a few cases, the same landlords who have fought against
the workshops become the groups' new patrons once the
animateurs go. They offer to pay the groups and because many
of the landless are unemployed or have little income, it is
difficult to refuse these offers. In this way the landlords gain
control over the landless' weapon and tum it around to serve
their interests. The groups stop performing plays on their own
stories and put on plays commissioned by and paid for by the
landlords, plays on themes of romance or on projects which
fail "because the workers are lazy" or having other victim-blam
ing themes.
I
In other cases landless drama groups have been hired by
government agencies for short-term contract work as propa
ganda agents for government. These plays exhort peasants to
"plan their families" and "build latrines" (as if these
victim-blaming measures will on their own without structural
changes transform the livelihood of landless laborers) and to
"participate in self-help projects on canal building" (the
I
landless laborers do the work and the landlords, who can make
use of the irrigation canals, get the benefits).
What Comes Next?
Over the past year Aranyak has run twenty-five workshops
along these lines in over 100 villages. This experience has
demonstrated both the potential and the limitations of the new
approach. The shift from performing to animation has not only
magnified the impact of their work, reaching out to much larger
numbers, but it has also transformed the quality of the
interaction.
Up until a year ago Aranyak put on political plays for the
people-imposing their own understanding or perspective of
the world, relating to people in a didactic or "banking" way,
and limiting their encounter to one-off performances. Now they
are working with the people, building up the people's capacity
to put on plays and do their own analysis of their situation,
and starting a more sustained process of conscientization and
organizing.
The limitations are those of a process which is still being
developed. A single workshop is too short to build a self-reliant
landless organization. It needs follow-up. Aranyak is now
working on a follow-up program for these fledgling groups:
encouraging groups in the same area to come together on a
regular basis to exchange experiences, skills, and ideas
among themselves;
organizing regional and national festivals and workshops in
which landless groups can come together and plan the
development of a people's theatre movement;
building contacts with other teams of animateurs working
in the villages like Proshika.
One of Aranyak's main concerns is to mobilize the
landless without building a dependence on Aranyak. As a
middle-class, urban-based group they recognize the limitations
of their organization and the vacillating potential of their team
members who may lose interest and drop out. They are also
aware of the possibility of their taking a leadership position
within the landless movement and later, because of their class
position, working against the interests of the movement. By
promoting horizontal contacts and mutual support among the
landless groups and by encouraging the development of
landless animateurs drawn from the groups they hope to avoid
this dependence. As MECATE (the Nicaraguan peasant theatre
movement) is doing, they hope eventually to have the bulk of
animation work carried out by landless laborers.
In a sense their work is just starting. They now realize
that to make any significant impact they need to sustain an
animation program for ten years or more. At the same time
they recognize the real dangers and obstacles that lie ahead,
including the victimization and repression of cultural groups.
Finally, the links between the village-based work and the bigger
social and political events of the country remain to be worked
out. *
Sources on People's Theatre in Bangladesh
Ahmed, F. and Ahmed, R., "Proshika: Its Aims, Methods, History, and
Experience of People's Theatre," unpublished notes from an interview by
R. Kidd. Koitta, Bangladesh, March 1980.
Aranyak, Liberated Theatre: A Form of Indigenous Theatre. A booklet
prepared for the Indigenous People's Theatre Festival held in Peterborough,
Ontario, August 1982. Dhaka: Aranyak, 1982.
Bappa, S. and Etherton, M., "Third World Popular Theatre: Voice of the
Oppressed," Commonwealth 25(4): 1983, 126-130,
Biswas, Kalpana, "Political Theatre in Bengal: the Indian People's Theatre
Association," Third World PopUlar Theatre. Toronto: International Popular
Theatre Alliance, 1982.
Farber, Carole, "Rivers and Rulers: An Interpretation of the Meaning of Form
of Peripatetic Performance in Bengal," Peasant Studies (University of
Pennsylvania), 1980.
Kidd, Ross, "Bangladesh Workshop on Popular Theatre and Development,"
report on the workshop organized by Proshika, Koitta, Bangladesh, March
1980. Unpublished manuscript. Toronto: International Council for Adult
Education, 1980.
Pradhan, Sudhi (ed.), Marxist Cultural Movement in India: Chronicles and
Documents (1936-1947) (Calcutta: National Book Agency, 1979).
Proshika, "People's Theatre and Organizing Landless Labourers in
Bangladesh," paper presented to the International Seminar on Indigenous
Structures and Folk Media in Non-Formal Education, Bonn, November
1980.
Rashid, Mamunur, "Liberated Theatre: An Indigenous Theatre Form for the
Third World," paper presented to the Indigenous People's Theatre Festival
at Peterborough, Ontario. August 1982.
Roy, Rati Ranjan, "Folk Poetry in Bangladesh: Updating Traditional Forms
to Carry Timely Messages," Develoment Communication Report 34: 1981.
84.
45
Land Reforms in Pakistan: A Reconsideration
by Akmal Hussain
Introduction
Before the introduction of the high yielding varieties of
food grain in the late 1960s the argument for land reform was
a simple one. It was observed that small farms had a higher
yield per acre than large farms, I so it was argued that a
re-distribution of owned land in favor of the smaller farmers
would improve average yields in agriculture. Hence land
reforms were considered advisable both on grounds that they
would reduce the degree of inequality of rural incomes, as well
as on grounds of efficiency. The efficiency argument for land
reforms in Pakistan gathered momentum in the 1950s when
agricultural stagnation began to fetter the growth of industry. 2
Agriculture provided not only food grains for the rising urban
population but also provided most of the foreign exchange with
which industrial machinery and raw materials were imported.
3
Accordingly, slow agricultural growth generated both a crisis
in the balance of payments as well as food shortages in the
urban sector.
4
In such a situation even the technocrats who
were merely interested in the growth of GNP joined the cry of
the social reformers for a land reform. It began to be seen as
a necessary instrument for accelerating agricultural growth and
thereby releasing the constraint on industrial growth.
I. There was a lively debate on the factors underlying the inverse relationship
between farm size and productivity. One of the more elegant explanations for
this phenomenon was offered by A.K. Sen who suggested that with traditional
technology small family farms could produce a higher yield per acre than large
farms through a higher labor input per acre. This could happen because small
farms using family labor applied labor input beyond the point where the
marginal product equalled the wage rate, while large farms using hired labor
could not afford to do so.
2. Annual growth rate of large-scale manufacturing during 1950-55 was 23.6
percent, while that of agriculture during the same period was only 1 .3 percent.
During the period 1955-60, annual growth rate in large-scale manufacturing
declined to 9.3 percent, while that of agriculture was only 1.4 percent. See
S. R. Lewis, Jr., Economic Policy and Industrial Growth in Pakistan, London:
George Allen and Unwin Ltd., 1959, p. 3, table I.
3. Cotton and jute constituted 85 percent of total commodity exports up to
the mid-1950s. See S.R. Lewis, op. cit., p. 7, table 5.
4. Import of foodgrains and flour as a percentage of total commodity imports
increased from 0.5 percent in 1951-52 to 14.6 percent in 1959-60. See: A
Hussain, "The Impact of Agricultural Growth on Changes in the Agrarian
Structure of Pakistan. "D. Phil. Thesis, Sussex University, 1980, table 3, p. 16.
46
When the Green Revolution technology became available
in the late 1960s, the ruling classes could breathe a sigh of
relief. The new technology made it possible to accelerate
agricultural growth substantially through an "elite-farmer
strategy" which concentrated the new inputs on large farms.
Now the crucial determinant in yield differences became not
the labor input per acre in which small farms had been at an
advantage, but the application of the seed-water-fertilizer
package over which the large farmers with their greater
financial power had superior access. Thus the technocrats felt
that the Green Revolution had made it possible to accelerate
agricultural growth without having to bring about any real
change in the rural power structure.
Today after more than a decade and a half of the
"elite-farmer strategy," the imperative of land reform is
re-emerging, albeit in a more complex form than in the
pre-Green Revolution period. As the large farms approach the
ceiling on yield per acre with the available technology, further
growth in agricultural output will increasingly depend on
raising the yield per acre of smaller farms.
The small farm sector whose yield potential remains to
be fully utilized, constitutes a substantial part of the agrarian
economy. According to the Pakistan Census of Agriculture
1972, farms below 25 acres constitute 88 percent of the total
number of farms, and 57 percent of total farm area. From the
viewpoint of raising the yield per acre of small farms, the
critical consideration is that 54 percent of the farm area in the
small farm sector (below 25 acres) is tenant qperated. Since
tenants lose half of any increase in output to the landlord, they
lack the incentive to invest in raising yields. Tenants also lack
the ability to raise yields in a situation where, because of their
financial and social position, they are unable to ensure optimum
quantity and timing in inputs. The ability of the tenant to invest
in increasing yields is further eroded by a whole nexus of social
and economic dependence on the landlord which deprives the
tenant of much of his investible surplus.
The objective of raising yields in the small farm sector is
clearly inseparable from removing the institutional constraints
to growth arising out of the fact of tenancy. A land reform
program that gives land to the tiller is therefore an essential
first step in providing both the incentive and the ability to the
small farmer to raise yields. The imperative for land reform
today arises not only from the need to accelerate agricultural
growth, but also from the need to prevent the developing social
crisis associated with the impact of the Green Revolution on
Pakistan's rural society. I shall argue in this paper that in a
situation where the distribution of landownership was highly
unequal the adoption of the Green Revolution technology set
in motion powerful economic forces which rapidly enriched
the large farmers and brought a sharp increase in rural poverty,
unemployment and the pressure on big urban centers. I shall
discuss the following four contradictions generated by the
growth process in Pakistan's agriculture during the Green
Revolution period:
1) The rapid mechanization of large farms in an economy
characterized by a "labor surplus."
2) The polarization in the size distribution of farms accomp
anied by a growing landlessness of the poor peasantry. The
polarization consisted of an increase in the percentage shares
of large and small farms at the expense of medium-sized
farms (8 to 25 acres).
3) The growth of capitalist farming together with a growing
social and economic dependence of the poor peasantry on
large landowners.
4) An absolute deterioration in the economic condition of the
poor peasants alongside the growing affluence of the large
farmers.
The Attempts at Land Reform and their Failure
Before embarking on an analysis of the four contradictions
specified above and their link with an unequal distribution of
landownership, the land reforms of 1959 and 1972 will be
briefly examined.
The Land Reforms of 1959
The 1959 land reforms fixed the ceiling on the private
ownership of land at 500 acres irrigated and 1,000 acres
unirrigated. The fundamental feature which rendered this
reform incapable of reducing the power of the big landlords
was that the ceiling on ownership was fixed in terms of
individual rather than family holdings. This enabled most of
the big landlords to circumvent the ceiling by transferring their
excess land to various real and fictitious family members.
, .
Moreover, a number of additional provisions in the 1959 land
reform allowed landlords to retain land far in excess of the
ceiling even on an individual basis. For example, an individual
could keep land in excess of the ceiling so long as his holding
was an equivalent of 36,000 Produce Index Units (PIUs). A
PIU was estimated as a measure of the gross value of output
per acre of land by type of soil and was therefore seen as a
measure of land productivity. The flaw in this provision was
that the PIUs were based on pre-partition revenue settlements.
Since the gross value of output was dependent on the quality
of land and prices, values of PIUs fixed before 1947 would
grossly underestimate land productivity in 1959. M.H. Khan
estimates that even if the PIU values published in 1959 were
taken as a correct representative of land productivity, the
allowance of 36,000 PIUs for an individual holding would
leave a substantially larger area than that specified in the
ceiling. S Another provision which enabled landlords to retain
land above the ceiling was the additional area allowed for
When the Green Revolution technology became
available in the late 1960s, the ruling classes
could breathe a sigh of relief. The new technology
made it possible to accelerate agricultural growth
substantially through an "elite-farmer strategy"
which concentrated the new inputs on large
farms. Now the crucial determinant in yield
differences became not the labor input per acre
in which small farms had been at an advantage,
but the application of the seed-water-fertilizer
package over which the large farmers with their
greater financial power had superior access.
orchards.
Given the fact that in the 1959 land reforms the ceiling
was fixed in terms of individual rather than family holdings,
and given the existence of additional lacunae in the provision,
most big landlords were able to circumvent the ceiling and
retain their land without declaring any land in excess of the
ceiling. Those who actually declared excess land were
super-large landlords who even after making use of exemptions
still could not conceal their entire holding. Thus the average
owned area per declarant landlord in Pakistan was as much as
7,028 acres and was 11,810 acres in the Punjab province. It
is interesting that even out of the land declared in excess of
the ceiling only 35 percent (1.9 million acres) could be resumed
by the government. After the government had resumed
whatever excess land it could, the average owned holding
retained by the declarant landlords was as much as 4,033 acres
in Pakistan and 7,489 acres in Punjab province.
6
Thus the land
reforms of 1959 failed to have a significant effect on the
economic power of the landed elite in Pakistan. The final
gesture of benevolence by the government towards the
landlords was to be seen in the fact that of the land actually
resumed under the 1959 land reforms, as much as 57 percent
was uncultivated. Most of this area needed considerable land
improvement before it could be cultivated. Yet the government
paid Rs. 89.2 million to the former owners as "compensation"
for surrendering land which was producing nothing.
7
The Land Reforms of 1972
The 1972 land reforms shared with the 1959 land reforms
the essential feature of specifying the ceiling in terms of
individual rather than family holdings. However the ceiling in
the 1972 land reforms was lower, being 150 acres for irrigated
and 300 acres for unirrigated. The 1972 land reforms allowed
an area equivalent to 12,000 PIUs (with a bonus of 2000 PIUs
to owners of tractors or tubewells) which enabled a de facto
ceiling on an individual ownership far above the ceiling. The
5. M.H. Khan, Underdevelopment and Agrarian Structure in Pakistan.
Vanguard Publications Ltd., 1981, chap. 5.
6. Land Reforms in West Pakistan. Vol. III, appendix 18, Government of
Pakistan, 1967.
7. See M.H. Khan, op. cit., chap. 5.
47
The land reforms of 1959 and 1972 failed to alter
significantly the highly unequal distribution of
landownership in Pakistan. As much as 30
percent of total farm area in Pakistan is owned
by large landowners (owning 150 acres and
above), yet these landowners constitute only 0.5
percent of the total number of landowners in the
country.
reason for this discrepancy between the de jure and de facto
ceiling was that the basis of estimating the PIUs was still the
. revenue settlements of the 1940s. The considerable improve
ment in yields, cropping patterns, and cropping intensities since
the 1940s meant that the use of obsolete PIUs in 1972
considerably understated land productivity. M.H. Khan has
estimated that due to the understatement of land productivity
through the PIUs provision, the actual ceiling in the 1972 land
reforms was 466 acres in the Punjab and 560 acres in Sind for
a tractor/tubewell owner. If an owner also took advantage of
the provision for intra-family transfers the ceiling came to 932
acres irrigated in the Punjab and 1,120 acres in Sind.
8
Of the land that was declared above the ceiling by landlords
after making use of the provisions for circumventing the
ceiling, only 42 percent was resumed in the Punjab and 59
percent in Sind. The area actually resumed by the government
under the 1972 land reforms was only about 0.6 million acres,
which was even less than the area resumed under the 1959
land reforms (which was 1.9 million acres). The resumed area
in 1972 constituted only 0.01 percent of total farm area in the
country. Moreover in the case of the Punjab 59 percent of the
area resumed by the government, was uncultivated. Con
sequently the land reforms of 1972, like the land reforms of
1959 failed to affect the power of the big landlords.
Agrarian Structure and the
Impact of the New Technology
The land reforms of 1959 and 1972 failed to alter
significantly the highly unequal distribution of landownership
in Pakistan. As much as 30 percent of total farm area in Pakistan
is owned by large landowners (owning 150 acres and above),
yet these landowners constitute only 0.5 percent of the total
number of landowners in the country. 9 The overall picture of
Pakistan's agrarian structure has been that these large
landowners have rented out most of their land to tenants with
small- and medium-sized holdings. 10 In such a situation when
8. Ibid.
9. These figure are estimated on the basis of combining Land Reforms
Commission data and the Agriculture Census data. The 1972 Agriculture
Census data alone gives an incorrect figure for land owned by the large
landowners because its sampling procedure is such that absentee land is
systematically excluded. For details of my estimating procedure see: A.
Hussain, op. cit., appendix 2, pp. 219-21.
10. As late as 1972, 46 percent of the total farm area in Pakistan was
tenant-operated, and of this tenant area, 50 percent had been rented out by
large landowners (owning ISO acres and above). My estimates show that as
the HYV technology became available in the late 1960s the
large landowners found it profitable to resume some of their
rented-out land for self-cultivation on large farms, using hired
labor and capital investment. II It is this process of the
development of capitalist farming which has generated new
and potentially explosive contradictions in Pakistan's rural
society.
Farm Mechanization and the
Problem of Employment
During the period when the HYV technology was being
adopted in Pakistan there was also a rapid introduction of
tractors. The number of tractors increased from only 2,000 in
1959 to 18,909 in 1968. The rapid increase in tractors continued
and by 1975 there were 35,714 tractors in Pakistan. Between
1976 and 1981 an additional 75,859 tractors were imported
into the country. 12
It is significant that most of the tractors were large.
According to the report of the Farm Mechanization Committee,
84 percent of the tractors were above 35 horsepower, while
only I percent were in the small-size range of less than 26
horsepower.13 Two questions arise: why were predominantly
large-sized tractors introduced in a rural sector where 88 percent
of the farms are below 25 acres in sizeI' and why did
tractorization occur at all in what is commonly regarded as a
"labor surplus" economy? Both these questions can be
understood in terms of the fundamental features of Pakistan's
agrarian economy arising out of the highly unequal distribution
of landownership.
First, the distribution of farm area in Pakistan by size of
owned holding is much more unequal than the distribution of
farm area by size of operated holding. My estimates based on
the 1972 Census of Agriculture show that as much as 30 percent
of total farm area in Pakistan was owned by landowners in the
size class of 150 acres and above; by contrast the percentage
of farm area operated by farmers in this size class was only
9.2 percent. The difference in the degree of concentration of
farm area between owned and operated holdings suggests that
many of the larger landowners must be renting out some or all
of their owned area to smaller farmers. This proposition is
supported by the data which shows that the large landowners
(150 acres and above) were even in 1972 the biggest renters
out of land, compared to any other size class in Pakistan and
Punjab respectively. IS
Second, the larger landowners attracted by the high
profitability of owner cultivation following the availability of
HYV technology, tended to resume their formerly rented-out
much as 75 percent of area owned by large landowners in 1972 was rented
out to smaller tenants. See: A Hussain, op. cit., chap. 3.
11. For detailed evidence and analysis of this tendency of land resumption
by big landlords, See: A. Hussain, "Technical Change and Social Polarization
in Rural Punjab in Karamat Ali" (edited), The Political Economy of Rural
Development, Vanguard Publications, 1982,
12. Finance Division, Economic Adviser's Wing, Pakistan Economic Survey
/980-8/. Government of Pakistan, Islamabad.
13. Ministry of Agriculture and Works, Report of the Farm Mechanization
Committee. Government of Pakistan, March 1970.
14. Ministry of Food and Agriculture, Agriculture Census Organization,
Pakistan Census ofAgriculture: All Pakistan Report. Government of Pakistan,
table I.
15. See: A. Hussain, op. cit., table 5(a), p. 194 and 6(a), p. 198.
48
Table 1
Increase in Farm Area since 1960 by Source of Increase and
Size Class in 1978 (in Acres)
Increase in Farm Area by Source between 1960 and 1978
Increase in Total Farm Resumption Increase in Net Purchase Net Other
Size Class Size of Farm Farm Area Area in of Rented- Rented-in (Purchase- Sources*
1960 to 1978 1978 outLand Land Sale)
Small Less than 8 -20 52 4 -5 0 -19
Lower Medium 8t025 -81 209 0 -50 2 -33
Medium 25 to 50 +48 407 45 +8 4 -9
Upper Medium 50 to 150 +448 711 340 +24 40 +42
Large 150 and over +3338 6464 2172 +38 1493 -365
* Other sources of increase or decrease in farm area are: (I) land brought by wife as dowry; (2) land appropriated by government, following land reforms;
(3) farm area reduced through fragmentation following decision by family members to cultivate individually in independently operated plots.
Source: Field Survey, 1978.
land for self-cultivation on large farms with tractors. Evidence
Polarization in Rural Class Structure
for the resumption of land during 1960 and 1978 for owner
and the Increase in Landlessness
cultivation on large tractor farms is provided by field survey
data, which shows that farms in the size classes 50 to 150 acres An examination of Census data for the period 1960 to
and 150 acres and above have experittnced a substantial increase 1972 shows that in the Punjab province (where the New
in their area over the period. . Technology had its greatest impact) a polarization occurred in
In the case of farms in the size class 150 acres and above, the size distribution of farms. The percentage shares of both
the increase in farm area over the period 1960 to 1978 large- and small-sized farms increased while that of medium
constituted half their total farm area in 1978. In terms of the sized farms (7.5 to less than 25 acres) decreased (see Table
source of increases, 65 percent of the increase in farm area of 2). This polarization was essentially the result of large
large farms came through resumption of formerly rented-out landowners resuming for self-cultivation some of the land
land. Thus resumption of formerly rented-out land was by far which they had formerly rented out to tenants.17
the biggest source of increase in farm area of large farms (see The process underlying the polarization in rural class
Table 1). structure was as follows:
There is evidence that the resumption of rented-out land (1) Large landowners resumed for self-cultivation land
for self-cultivation on large farms was associated with the which they had rented out to both small and lower-medium
purchase of tractors by those farmers. My field survey data sized (7.5 to less than 25 acres) tenant farmers. However, the
shows that whereas in 1960 almost 60 percent of the farmers resumption hit lower-medium farms to a much greater extent
! in the large size class (150 acres and above) were without than small farms due to the considerably greater degree of
tractors, by 1978 all of them had at least one, and 41 percent tenancy in the former size class. i
r
had three or more tractors. 16 Evidence at the all-Pakistan level (2) As tenants operating lower-medium-sized farms lost
is provided by the Report of the Farm Mechanization some but not all of their land following resumption, many of
Committee. It shows that within the farm area operated by them shifted into the category of small farms over the
tractor owners, the percentage area operated by large farmers inter-censal period.
was as high as 87 percent. The evidence shows that polarization in the size of farms
I
An important reason why large-sized tractors began to get was accompanied by a growing landlessness of the poor
introduced during the 1960s was that large landowners peasantry. My estimates based on population census data show
responding to the new profit opportunities began to resume that from 1961 to 1973,794,042 peasants entered the category
I
I
I
rented-out land for self-cultivation on large farms. Given the of wage laborers, that is, 43 percent of the total agricultural
difficulty of mobilizing a large number of laborers during the laborers in Pakistan in 1973 had entered this category as the
peak seasons in an imperfect labor market and the problem of result of the proletarianization of the poor peasantry.
I
supervising the laborers to ensure satisfactory performance, the Given the unequal distribution of landownership in
large farmers found it convenient to mechanize even though Pakistan, when the New Technology became available, it
there may have been no labor shortage in an absolute sense.
I
!
I
17. This picture emerges when the 1960 Census data is adjusted for biases
t
inherent in its methodology in order to make it comparable with the 1972
I
16. A. Hussain, op. cit., chap. 5 and Appendix. Census methodology. A. Hussain, op. cit., chap. 3.
49
I
Table 2
Percentage of Farms and Farm Area by Size of Farm 1960 and 1972 in Punjab
(Adjusted* and Unadjusted Agriculture Census Data)
Number of Farms Farm Area
Size ofFarm 1960 1972 1960 1972
(Acres)
Unadjusted Adjusted Unadjusted Adusted
Less than 7.5 63.35 35.53 41.28 19.07 9.93 11.80
7.5 to 25 29.81 52.82 46.88 45.27 51.15 46.42
25 to 50 5.42 8.88 8.81 20.21 20.23 21.30
50 to 150 1.27 2.49 2.72 10.57 12.94 14.72
150 and above 0.14 0.27 0.30 4.88 5.76 5.77
Total 100 100 100 100 100 100
Summary Table
Size of Farm Number of Farms Farm Area
(Acres)
Col. (a) Col. (b) Col. (c) Col. (d)
1960 (Adjusted) 1972 1960 (Adjusted) 1972
Less than 7.5 35.5 41.3 9.9 11.8
7.5t025 52.8 46.9 51.2 46.4
25 and above 11.6 11.8 38.9 41.8
-------------------
Total 100 100 100 100
* The columns may not add up to exactly 100 in every case due to rounding errors.
Sources: 1960 Pakistan Census of Agriculture and 1972 Pakistan Census of Agriculture.
induced a process of land resumption by big landlords. This
resulted in a polarization in the size distribution of farms on
the one hand and an increased landlessness of the poor
peasantry on the other.
The Growth of Capitalist Farming and the
Economic Dependence of the Poor Peasantry
The growth of capitalist farming was accelerated consid
erably in the late 1960s as large landowners began to resume
their rented-out land to operate their own farms with hired
labor and capital investment. The particular form of the
development of capitalism in Pakistan's agriculture was such
that instead of being accompanied by a growing independence
of the poor peasantry (as in Europe), in Pakistan's case
capitalism in agriculture was accompanied by an increased
social and economic dependence of the poor peasantry on the
landowners. The reason for this was that capitalist farming in
Pakistan developed in a situation where the power of the
landlords was still intact. Consequently the emerging market
was mediated by the social and political power of the landlords.
The local institutions for the distribution of agricultural inputs
and credit and of sale of output are heavily influenced by the
big landlords. In order to acquire the inputs, credit and facilities
for transport of output to the market the poor peasant has to
depend on help from the landlord. In many cases the poor
peasant in the absence of collateral cannot get credit from the
official agencies at all, and has to depend on the landlord for
loans. In addition to this he or she often has to purchase the
tubewell water from the landlord and use landlord transport
for taking output for sale to the market. Thus as the inputs for
agricultural production become monetized and insofar as the
access to the market is via the landlord, the poor peasant's
dependence has intensified with the development of capitalism
in agriculture.
With the development of capitalist farming, the poor
peasant is subject to a triple squeeze on real income.
Increased Money Costs
Inputs which were formerly non-monetized (seed, animal
manure and the like) or inputs which were formerly not used
at all (such as tractor ploughings, tubewell water, pesticides)
now have to be purchased with money. It might be asked why
the poor peasant now has to buy fertilizer and hire tractors.
The answer lies in the inability of the poor peasant (whether
owner or tenant) to maintain as many farm animals as before.
The reasons for this are:
I) Pastures devoted to fodder have been reduced on poor
peasant farms as farm size declined following loss of some
rented land due to resumption.
2) The poor peasant's access to the fodder and pasture lands
of the landlords was reduced as the latter mechanized and
began to grow cash crops over much of the area formerly
devoted to pastures or fodder.
50
Thus mechanization and the development of capitalist
farming on large farms has adversely affected the poor
peasants' ability to keep animals thereby making them more
vulnerable to market pressures.
The second factor in the rise in money costs is the shift
from sharecropping to money rents which are rising sharply.
The money rent is often fixed by the landlord not on the basis
of the actual yield of the tenant-operated farm, but its potential
yield if it were being cultivated at peak efficiency.
Slow Growth in Yield Per Acre
While there has been an increase in cash rents payable by
the poor peasant and thus in rental burden, yields per acre have
not increased proportionately. The latter is due to the fact that
the poor peasant has neither the financial and political power
to acquire all the required inputs (seed, fertilizer, supplementary
tubewell water, pesticides) nor to control their timing.
Selling Grain Cheap and Buying Dear
The third pressure on the real income of the poor peasant
is that in a situation of rising cash requirements and
indebtedness, they are forced to sell a part of their subsistence
output at harvest time at low prices. Then at the end of the
year they have to buy grain in the market at high prices. Thus
selling grain cheap, and buying dear, is another squeeze on
the poor peasant's income.
The squeeze on the real income of the poor peasants is
reflected in the changes in the quality and quantity of their diet
since 1965, in Table 3. Table 3 shows that the class of poor
peasants (with farm size below 25 acres), contains a substantial
number of farmers who have suffered an absolute decline in
the quantity of food and 'contains an even larger number of
farmers who have suffered a decline in the quality of their diet.
Conclusion
In Pakistan, with its highly unequal distribution of
landownership, the introduction of the New Technology in
agriculture has unleashed powerful contradictions which are
not only likely to become constraints on continued agricultural
growth, but are also generating acute social tensions. The
nature of the economic progress, in the absence of an effective
land reform, is such that it is enriching the rural elite at the
expense of the rapid deterioration in the economic and social
conditions of the majority of the rural population. Four major
contradictions can be seen in the process of agricultural growth
since the adoption of the New Technology:
First, there has been the rapid adoption of large tractors
in a labor surplus economy where 88 percent of the farms are
below 25 acres. This has happened as the result of large
landowners resuming their formerly rented-out land for
self-cultivation on large mechanized farms. Labor displacing
technology is being used by large farmers not because there is
an absolute labor shortage, but in order to overcome the
problem of supervision of labor and the difficulty of mobilizing
labor within a short time period.
Second, a polarization in the size distribution of farms
has taken place, with the percentage shares of large and small
farms increasing at the expense of medium-sized farms (8 to
25 acres). This has also resulted from large landowners
resuming their formerly rented-out land. Land resumption has
hit medium-sized farms to a much greater extent than
small-sized farms, pushing many of them into the category of
small farms following resumption.
Third, the development of capitalist farming has occurred
in a situation where the prevalence of feudal power by the big
farmers has deprived the poor peasant of equal access to the
market. Consequently the poor peasant has become more
dependent on the big farmer for conducting his production
process.
Table 3
Percentage Change in the Quantity and Quality of the Diet of
Farmers between 1975 to 1978 by Size Class of Farm
Quantity ofDietl Quality of DietZ
Size ofFarm Diet has Diet has Diet has Total Diet has Diet has Diet has Total
(Acres) improved. deterio- remained improved. deterio- remained
rated. unchanged. rated. unchanged
Less than 8 11 33 56 100 0 67 33 100
8t025 0 25 75 100 0 69 31 100
25 to 50 0 0 100 100 0 25 ~ 5 100
50 to 150 0 0 100 100 0 0 100 100
150 and above 0 0 100 100 0 0 100 100
I. Quantity of Diet. A reduction in the quantity of diet refers to a reduction in the quantity of one or more of the following items, without an increase in any:
(i) number of chappattis consumed during the day, (ii) quantity of milk consumed during the day, (iii) quantity of lassi consumed during the day, (iv) number
of times during the day that lentils or vegetables are eaten along with chappattis.
2. Quality of Diet. A reduction in quality of diet refers to a change of one or more of the following: (i) A reduction in the quantity of milk with an increase
in the quantity of lassi. (ii) A reduction in the frequency of meat consumption per month by the peasant household. (iii) A replacement of homemade butter
and ghee with canned vegetable cooking oil purchased in the market. The latter has a much lower fat content than homemade ghee and is also often adulterated,
according to the respondents.
Source: Field Survey, 1978.
51
Fourth, rising money costs for the poor peasants-in a
situation where they are locked in a structure of dependence
have placed the poor peasant into a triple squeeze which is
resulting in a rapid deterioration of their economic condition.
Each of the contradictions specified above stems from the fact
that the New Technology became available in a situation where
economic and social power was concentrated in the hands of
the big landlords.
Agricultural growth during the 1960s and 1970s was
predicated on the rapid increase in yields of the larger farms,
but continued growth in the next two decades will have to be
derived from increasing yields per acre of the small farmers.
An essential pre-condition for this is institutional and economic
changes which will give the small farmer better access over
the new inputs and greater control over the production process
and investible surplus. In this sense, an effective land reform
is now not only an imperative of a more equitable economic
growth but also of growth itself. *
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The Penetration of Capitalism and Agrarian Change in
Southwest India, 1901 to 1941: A Preliminary Analysis
by Joseph Tharamangalam*
It is now widely recognized that the penetration of a
world-wide, capitalist market economy has been a critical
process in the transformation of traditional peasant societies.
This paper examines some aspects of this process in the
erstwhile princely state of Travancore in southwest India,
the most important of the three regions that were unified to
form the present Malayalam speaking state of Kerala. Today
Kerala is well known for its many unique features, among
them its strong agrarian movement, grass roots political
mobilization, and the progressive social policies of its left
governments. It is perhaps not equally well known that it
was Kerala's spices that brought the European trading
companies into India's coasts in the first place and that since
that time the increasing cultivation of cash crops for the
world market has had a radical impact on Kerala' s social
structure. In Travancore this process became greatly
accelerated in the twentieth century with the opening of
capitalist plantations in the hill regions and the reclamation
of backwater areas along the coast for commercial paddy
cultivation. Indeed by 1921 a little less than half the cropped
area of Travancore was under cash-crop cultivation. I This
paper will confine itself to Travancore. It will analyze some
aspects of the penetration of capitalism into Travancore and
the consequent transformation of agriculture with the aim of
revealing the region's unique social and political developments.
Travancore Society at the Turn of the Century
At the tum of the century Travancore presented the picture
of a "model state" in India, a prosperous, stable kingdom
ruled by "progressive" rajahs and their enlightened Brahmin
ministers from British Madras. Caste, which formed the
* The author wishes to thank Mount Saint Vincent University for providing
a research grant towards the preparation of this paper. An earlier version
was presented at the XIth International Congress of Anthropological and
Ethnological Sciences, Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, August
20, 1983.
1. It may be instructive to note that in the unified Kerala state food grains
accounted for onl y 30 percent of the cropped area in the 1970s as compared
with 75 percent for all India. Thomas Paulini, Agrarian Movements and
Reforms in Kerala, (Verlag breitenbach, Saarbriicken, 1979), p. 105.
53
structural basis of society and defined the nature of
Travancore's "feudalism," was still largely intact. 2 Excluding
the Brahmins who, despite their preeminent ritual and
economic status constituted only a tiny minority, there were
broadly four major castes or groups of castes who inhabited
very different symbolic-cultural-ritual worlds and commanded
vastly different economic and political resources. At the top
stood the Nayars, the traditional military-aristocratic and ruling
caste of Travancore, who made up 22 percent of the state's
population.
3
They were also perhaps the most important
landowning caste. When they were not landlords themselves
they held "superior" tenancies from Brahmins, the state
(including the state-owned temples) and/or from other wealthier
Nayars and generally cultivated these with the help of Syrian
Christian or Ezhava tenants or sub-tenants and untouchable
landless laborers.
The Syrian Christians: who made up 24 percent of the
population, were also accorded relatively high ritual status,
2. The caste system is generally regarded as involving the division of
society into a number of hereditary and endogamous groups, each
associated with a certain occupation and occupying a specific ritual status
in a hierarchy defined by the rules of purity and pollution. An adequate
discussion of caste from a materialist perspective would involve a
discussion of Travancore's pre-modem mode of production or "feudalism"
and is clearly beyond the scope of this paper. At the very least caste will
be seen as a production system that made possible the extraction of an
economic surplus from the immediate producers by a group of upper castes
and rulers. Looked at from this perspective, caste defined the concrete
historical form in which class relations manifested themselve in Travancore
and in India generally. However, modem changes of the' kind discussed
in this paper not only altered the relative economic and political positions
of many castes but also led to the internal differentiation of castes as well
as to the emergence of new classes outside the framework of caste
altogether. Hence the concrete relationship between caste and class today
is complex and must be regarded as a question for empirical examination.
3. The figures used here are all from Census of Travancore, 1901.
4. In a strict sense the Syrian Christrians are outside the framework of the
Hindu caste system. However, traditionally they have functioned as a caste
accepting the caste rules, and have been so regarded by other castes. Hence
they are regarded a caste for purposes of this study. They are an ancient
Christian community whose history goes back to the beginning of the
Christian era. Today the majority of them are Roman Catholics (following
the Syrian rite), some still belong to such ancient orthodox sects as the
Jacobites, and others have embraced various Protestant faiths.
12'
II'
10'
9'
75E

7"
77'
Map sbowiDB TraviUICOrc. Cochin and Malabar
Map courtesy of J. Tharamangalam
perhaps slightly below that of the Nayars. Although they
claimed a few landed aristocrats and wealthy traders among
them they were in general tenants of Nayars and Brahmins
mostly holding "inferior" forms of tenancy. Below the Syrian
Christians were the Ezhavas who made up 17 percent of the
population. They occupied a relatively low position in the caste
hierarchy due to their "polluting" characteristics and the
consequent social disabilities imposed upon them. Their
traditional occupation was "toddy-tapping" (the extraction of
an alcoholic beverage from the coconut tree) and other trades
related to various products of the coconut tree. Nevertheless,
the vast majority of them were also engaged in the cultivation
of lands held under "inferior" tenancies from Nayars or even
Syrian Christians.
At the very bottom of the caste hierarchy stood the "slave
castes," roughly 10 percent of the population, but separate by
an unbridgeable ritual gulf from the rest of society. Although
they had been legally freed from slavery in 1855 they had
experienced little change in their actual conditions of living.
COCHIN STATE
TRAVANCORE in 1901

,

0 10 20 .,0
10 26 30
mole!.

Map by author
They were landless agricuIturallaborers with no rights in land,
generally "attached" to specific Nayar or Christian landowners
under various forms of bondage and were kudikidappukars
s
in
plots alloted to them by the landowners. Nowhere were the
iniquities of caste so elaborate and complex as in this "model
state" where the rules of "distance pollution" made these castes
not merely untouchables but literally unseeables to large
numbers of upper caste Hindus.
The political machinery of the state was run by Nayars
with the help of Madras Brahmins. A relatively large public
service and public works apparatus was staffed exclusively
by upper caste Hindus except in lower positions.
This picture of stability and controlled progress was
5. A kudikidappukaran was a hutment dweller or squatter who was allowed
to reside in a plot alloted to him by a landowner in exchange for a variety
of services. He had no real rights in the land and could be evicted by the
landowner at will.
54
deceptive. Three centuries of European trading, political,
missionary and educational activities, the disbanding of the
Nayar militia and the establishment of Pax Britannica a
century earlier" had set in motion many forces of change that
were to become more clearly visible in the twentieth century.
Most important of all, agriculture was being radically
transformed and set on a course of radical change. The 1880s
had seen Travancore change from being an exporter of rice to
a rice-deficit state, and increasing quantities of rice were being
imported since then. Subsistence agriculture was fast disappear
ing, forever. In 1901, Travancore's population counted
2,950,000, roughly a 6 percent increase from 1875.
7
Land
available per capita declined from 2 acres per person in 1881
to 1. 9 acres in 1891 and further to 1. 7 acres in 1901.
8
Nevertheless, it was to take another thirty years before the
pressure on land reached crisis proportions.
Trade, Commerce and Capital Mobilization
Since developments in agriculture were directly related to
trade, commerce and capital mobilization it is useful to begin
with a brief examination of these. The Portuguese who broke
the Arab monopoly on the pepper trade along the Kerala coast
were followed by the Dutch, the French, the Danes and the
English, each aggressively competing with the others to grab
a greater share of the lucrative pie. To take full advantage of
this favorable market Maharaja Marthanda Varma, the founder
and ambitious ruler of Travancore, established a state
monopoly on the pepper trade. He gradually extended it to
other commodities such as coconuts, cardamom and cotton
goods. In consequence, the Maharaja and his government (the
sircar) became the super-trader and speculator of Travancore.
6. In 1795 and 1805 Travancore signed treaties with the East India
Company which made it a client "princely state" of the company's empire.
7. It is generally agreed that population data prior to 1901 are not very
reliable. The 1891 figures are generally regarded as underestimates.
8. Census of Travancore, 1931, p. 16.
Table 1
Total Value of Trade: 1894-95 to 1903-04
Export Import Total
Year Rs. Rs. Rs.
1894-95 16,867,834 10,367,530 27,235,364
1895-96 14,645,487 9,672,099 24,317,586
J
1896-97 14,693,752 10,104,348 24,798,100
1897-98 14,455,893 9,158,623 23,614,516
1898-99 17,210,342 10,440,176 27,650,518
1899-00 16,947,824 9,394,050 26,341,874
1900-01 16,685,774 10,339,488 27,325,262
1901-02 15,865,694 12,557,739 28,423,433
1902-03 18,717,906 10,059,121 28,777,027
1903-04 20,529,496 10,875,217 31,404,713
Source: Nagam Aiya, Travancore State Manual, 1906, p. 207.
It was Kerala's spices that brought the European
trading companies into India's coasts in the first
place and since that time the increasing cultiva
tion of cash crops for the world market has had a
radical impact on Kerala's social structure.
Although this monopoly was later broken by the English, the
sircar continued to take a very active interest in the state's
trade till the end. It is significant to note that tarifs on trade,
and not land revenue, remained the single most important
source of the sircar's revenue.
9
Under Pax Britannica trade
continued to expand and to flourish. By the end of the
nineteenth century cash crops such as coffee, tea and rubber
had been added to pepper, coconut and cardamom as major
exports. Pepper remained the number one export in 1901, it
was replaced by tea in 1925. Tables I and 2 show the total
value of exports and imports. It will be seen that Travancore
not only increased its exports steadily but also maintained a
comfortable trade surplus till the eve of the depression and that
even during the depression the balance of trade was favorable.
It should be noted that while European companies and
the sircar were the major players in Travancore's trade, a
flourishing group of indigenous merchants and entrepreneurs
had emerged by the tum of the century. Since Kerala's
pantheon of castes had never included the Vaishyas, the
classical trading caste, historically their role had been filled
by the Syrian Christians, Muslims and Jews. In Travancore
it was the Syrian Christians who came to occupy the
preeminent position in trade.
9. T.K. Velu Pillai, The TravancoreStateManual, 1940, Vol. III, p. 11.
Table 2
Total Value of Trade: 1925-26 to 1934-35
Exports Imports Total
Year H.Rs. H.Rs. H.Rs.
1925-26 114,065,138 61,643,268 175,708,406
1926-27 118,408,817 82,381,910 200,790,727
1927-28 118,042,935 93,290,681 211,333,616
1928-29 112,939,039 93,610,748 206,549,787
1929-30 96,515,615 76,568,897 . 173,074,512
1930-31 75,116,153 64,929,804 140,045,957
1931-32 77,108,954 64,399,262 141,508,216
1932-33 77,897,856 62,916,056 140,813,912
1933-34 83,766,483 79,151,279 162,917,762
1934-35 81,600,000 74,300,000 155,900,000
Source: T.K. VeluPil1ai, TravancoreState Manual, 1940, Vol. III., p. 604.
55
Two important consequences of trade may be briefly
mentioned here. First, the boom in cash-crop trade
inevitably led to the expansion of cash-crop cultivation with
the active encouragement of the sin'ar and with far-reaching
consequences. This will be discussed later. Second, it led
to the monetization of the state's economy and the
commercialization of its agriculture. Increasingly the
peasant family was producing commodities that its members
sold for a price determined by world market conditions far
beyond their control and it was with this cash crop that they
had to buy rice and other necessities.
Cash could be used not only to buy one's necessities;
when accumulated in sufficient quantity it was capital which
could be invested to produce more cash. And capital was a
necessary ingredient in the expansion of commercial/
capitalist agriculture. Although foreign capital played a
major role in this respect, as we shall see later, the important
role played by indigenous capital must not be under
estimated. The latter was significant not only in the
expansion of capitalist agriculture but also in the transforma
tion of the traditional caste-class structure. Indigenous
capital was itself mobilized by two sources. The first was
the sin'ar which even after relinquishing its role as trader
continued to benefit from the cash crop boom and to
accumulate substantial amounts of money. And this capital
too played a crucial role: it was used not only for the creation
of an extensive transportation and communication network,
but also for advancing loans to "progressive" agriculturists
and, by the 1930s at least, even for direct investments in
industry. The second was a number of rapidly expanding
credit institutions and commercial banks.
Commercial banks in Travancore evolved out of
indigenous credit institutions called kuris and chitties which
were prevalent among the Syrian Christians. These institu
tions had traditionally confined themselves to advancing
credit for consumption purposes. They gradually became
incorporated into the new commercial banks and were
transformed into instruments for capital mobilization. As a
result, "when commercial banking developed in the region,
and began to cater to credit requirements for productive
purposes, one of the main activities of the many banks in
the region continued to be running of kuries and chitties for
the purpose of mobilising savings and for attracting
depositors."10 The commercial banks began to grow very
rapidly in number in the 1920s, reaching an all-time high of
275 in 1932-33. In 1937 the Travancore National and Quilon
Bank (created by the merger of two family-owned banks)
ranked first in the number of bank offices in India and third in
the total volume of business. II However, the Travancore banks
were hit hard by the depression, apparently due to their
structural weaknesses.
12
Despite this at independence both
Travancore and Cochin topped the Indian states in the range
of area and population served by the office of a commercial
bank. 13
10. T.C. Varghese, Agrarian Change and Economic Consequences,
(Bombay: Allied Publishers, 1970), p. 112.
11. M.A. Oomen, "Rise and Growth of Banking in Kerala," Social
Scientist, Vol. III, No.5, 1976, p. 31.
12. "Report of the Travancore-Cochin Banking Inquiry Commission,"
Trivandrum, 1956.
13. Oomen, op. cit., p. 25.
Increasingly the peasant was producing com
modities that he sold for a price determined by
world market conditions far beyond his control
and it was with this cash that he had to buy his rice
and other necessities.
Some important features of Travancore' s banks are worthy
of note. First, these originated not in the export port towns but
in the regions in which agricultural development and expansion
was most visible. Second, they were developed almost
exclusively by Syrian Christians. Third, the families associated
with these banks were themselves capitalists with major
interests in commercial agriculture. It seems clear that these
banks were instrumental in mobilizing the savings of small
cultivators and financing indigenous entrepreneurs for invest
ments in plantations as well as in capitalist farms in Kuttanad. 14
Cash, Caste, Land Tenure and Labor:
Changes in the Agrarian Structure
As Varghese has pointed out, the development of
capitalist agriculture in Travancore was related to changes
in the land tenure system. The state was able to play an
important role in these changes since it "had, directly or
indirectly, under its ownership and control more than 80
percent of the cultivated lands, and almost the whole of the
arable and uncultivable waste. "15 This was in sharp contrast
to Malabar and British India where most of the lands were in
the hands of private owners. Perhaps with a view to adapting
a caste-based, feudal land-tenure system to the requirements
of a growing cash economy and with the avowed aim of making
the state's cultivators "peasant proprietors," the sircar began
a series of land reforms from the middle of the nineteenth
century. The first of these, proclaimed in 1865, granted full
proprietary rights to the tenants of sircar (pandaravaka) lands.
This affected some 200,000 acres or half the rice-growing land
in the state with an estimated value of 15 million rupees which
was now made salable and alienable. Further measures were
adopted in 1867 and 1896 to help the tenants of janmon lands
(of private landlords). These granted permanent occupancy
rights as well as fixation of rents to the kandamdars (superior
tenants) who held 150,000 acres representing more than half
of all janmon lands.
Although these measures left untouched all those who
held inferior tenancies or sub-tenancies, not to mention the
landless laborers, they had the important consequence of
creating a market in land. The proclamation of 1865 was
followed by an immediate spurt in land sales: within one year
lands worth Rs. 475,000 changed hands and the resulting boom
in land led to a new interest in the reclamation of waste lands.
This in tum led to an expansion in agriculture and to a still
14. Vargehese, op. cit., pp. 112-113.
15. Ibid., p. 96. The following discussion on land reforms is based on
Varghese, pp. 64 to 67.
56
1
i
I
I
Table 3
Alienations and acquisitions of property by Nayars, Christians, Iravas, Shanars and
Samantas in Travancore for 18 months prior to 1 Makaram 1083 (about January 1908)
Sales in Mortgages Total in + or - in
Category rupees in rupees rupees rupees
NAYARS
Buyers or mortgagees 1,220,264 7,640,804 8,861,068
Sellers or mortgagors 1,739,607 8,998,463 10,738,070 -1,877,002
CHRISTIANS
Buyers or mortgagees 2,244,641 8,007,137 9,851,778
Sellers or mortgagors 1,982,647 6,698,124 8,680,771 + 1,171,007
IRAVAS
Buyers or mortgagees 1,171, 197 4,231,665 5,392,862
Sellers or mortgagors 1,053,763 4,044,083 5,098,476 + 294,386
SHANARS
Buyers or mortgagees 308,643 1,249,291 1,557,934
Sellers or mortgagors 303,261 1,171,664 1,474,925 + 83,009
SAMANTAS
Buyers or mortgagees
Sellers or mortgagors
11,829
17,298
Source: Robin Jeffrey, 1976, p. 248.
further increase in land prices. It may be noted that the close
connection between cash and land naturally favored those who
possessed cash and were eager to trade it for land, the new
commercial and entrepreneurial classes.
The land reform measures of the twentieth century
extended the tenurial rights granted in the nineteenth century
to a wider variety of tenants but did not include any measures
to regulate the leasing of lands or to protect the lessees. Hence
these did little to further strengthen "peasant proprietorship."
Instead, "leasing of land and the tenancy problems created
thereby began to be on the increase during this period,"'6 and
"very soon the area became notorious for numerous types of
land leases many of them based on new terms and practices. "17
If these "backward" fonns of land relations did not
disappear under the impact of all the new changes, neither
did the caste system. It did, however, undergo changes
which had serious implications for subsequent socio-political
developments in the region. Many of the new changes were
not equally beneficial to all castes. As we have seen, Syrian
Christians, and to a lesser extent Ezhavas were the main
beneficiaries of the new developments in trade and
commerce. No doubt, their exclusion from government
service gave them added incentives in these pursuits. Syrian
Christians also had the added advantage of closer connection
with the British and they even enjoyed a measure of
patronage, which was particularly useful in getting intro
duced to the business of establishing plantations.
Education favored these two rising castes. While the
16. Ibid., p. 132.
17. Ibid., p. 134.
57
63,423 75,252
94,605 111,903 36,651
missionary connection was particularly helpful to the Syrian
Christians, Ezhavas too were able to benefit from the
Christian educational institutions. True, the Nayars also
took advantage of modern education though to a less extent
than the Christians, but their relative position of superiority
had been destroyed. It became increasingly difficult to
justify ascribed privileges in a society that had, in theory,
already recognized the legitimacy of achieved status. IS
The upwardly mobile castes were also feeling comfortable
with their connection with cash and the cash economy. While
cash crop cultivation in general favored the Christians, the
boom in coconut cultivation especially favored the Ezhavas
whose historic connection with that versatile Kerala crop
proved to be very helpful. In particular they benefitted from
toddy and arrack trade and the coir industry (the manufacturing
of ropes and carpets from fibers extracted from coconut husks).
It is significant to note that profits made from these enterprises
were mainly invested in land, which continued to remain the
symbol of status and security but was now a commodity
available to anyone with cash. The market in land was
particularly favorable to these castes because of increasing sales
by Nayars as a result of the crisis in their matrilineal kinship
system and legislative measures enacted in the 1920s for the
partition of joint family property. As it turned out, the Nayar
kinship system proved to be ill-equipped to adapt to a growing
commercial/capitalist economic system. 19 Tables 3 and 4
18. See Robin Jeffrey, The Decline of Nayar Dominance: Society and
Politics in Travancore, 1747-1908, (New York: Holmes and Meier, 1976).
See especially chapters 5 to 7.
19. Ibid.
Table 4
Percentage Share of Different Communities in the Number of
Sales and Purchases of Lands in Travancore
1926 1930 1935 1940
Name ofthe
Community Sellers Buyers Sellers Buyers Sellers Buyers Sellers Buyers
Brahmin 4.5 2.7 4.3 2.7 3.4 3.2 3.0 2.4
Nayar 38.6 29.2 41.6 36.1 44.4 36.2 47.2 27.7
Ezhava 10.2 12.7 13.3 15.8 14.7 17.2 14.2 13.1
Vellala 6.4 5.8 6.9 5.2 5.1 5.2 4.6 4.3
Other Hindus 9.4 9.4 8.5 8.6 9.1 6.2 6.2 7.1
Backward Hindus 1.9 1.6 1.6 1.9 1.5 2.0 2.1
Christian 23.8 33.9 19.5 25.5 17.7 22.2 18.3 28.0
Muslim 5.2 4.7 4.3 4.2 4.1 3.8 4.4 5.2
Total 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0
Source: Varghese, 1970, p. 103.
provide infonnation regarding the sale and purchase of land legislation for the partition of joint family property. Table 5
by caste. It will be seen that throughout the twentieth century gives the distribution of holdings according to size in different
Nayars, a major land-owning caste of Travancore, was parting communities in 1931. It can be seen that the Syrian Christians
with its land in favor of the Christians and that this process were the largest landowners followed by the Nayars and then
became accelerated in the 1920s after the enactment of by the Ezhavas.
Table 5
Distribution of Holdings According to Size in Different Communities: 1931
All com- Depressed Other Syrian Other
Sizeofholding munities Brahman Nayar L1ava Hindu Hindus Christian Christians Muslim
Below 20 cents 1,776 8 340 383 122 388 194 217 124
20-40 cents 2,892 5 633 608 173 628 341 344 160
40-60 cents 3,190 12 719 559 241 663 454 347 195
60-80 cents 2,320 4 575 448 137 452 327 221 156
80-100 cents 1,221 2 370 241 53 155 220 109 71
Below 1 acre 11,399 31 2,637 2,239 726 2,286 1,536 1,238 706
1-2 acres 7,271 24 1,970 1,279 391 1,148 1,284 738 437
2-3 acres 3,797 28 1,075 581 166 490 851 356 250
3-4 acres 2,195 15 635 312 66 256 573 203 135
4-5 acres 1,428 9 415 219 34 156 416 103 76
5-6 acres 936 8 268 138 16 100 261 81 64
6-7 acres 624 3 184 77 7 59 210 51 33
7-8 acres 390 4 117 48 10 22 131 27 31
8-9 acres 334 1 98 44 5 31 120 20 15
9-10 acres 191 4 54 19 3 25 62 19 5
10-11 acres 1,317 22 367 140 9 109 506 96 68
100 acres and above 21 4 3 3 10 1
Total holders 29,903 149 7,824 5,099 1,433 4,685 5,960 2,933 1,820
Total earners 55,803 296 9,910 10,413 6,219 9,864 8,863 7,501 3,237
Source: T.K. Velu Pillai, The Travancore State Manual. 1940, Vol. m., p. 289.
58
I
I
,
I
I
I
Table 6
Plantation Companies in Travancore
I
i
Year
I
1905
1915
1925
1935
1945
Number of regis
tered plantation com
panies incorpo
rated and working
in Travancore
3
10
37
38
89
Number of registered plan
tation companies incorpo
rated outside Travancore,
but working in Travancore
not known
not known
17
23
19
Source: Varghese, 1970, p. 117.
Capitalist Tendencies and Their Implications
The first half of the twentieth century saw Travancore' s
agriculture gradually change from what was primarily a
system of production for consumption to one that became
predominantly a system of commodity production. The most
important factor in this change seems to have been. the
growth of cash crop production in general and of plantations
in particular. To a somewhat less extent the development
of commercial paddy c.ultivation in the backwater areas also
contributed to this change.
Although peasants in Travancore had, for a long time,
cultivated cash crops such as pepper, cardamom and ginger
for the foreign market, plantations for growing coffee, tea
and rubber were first introduced by Europeans in the latter
half of the nineteenth century. 20 The sircar was very generous
with these planters and gave them large tracts of land in the
high ranges on very favorable terms. Tax on these ranged from
5 annas to Rs. 3 per acre. The Kahnan Devan Hill Produce
Company, one of the largest with cultivated holdings at over
100,000 acres, paid only 5 annas per acre; it paid nothing for
the remaining unoccupied area out of 215 square miles leased
from the sircar.
21
In addition, a network of roads connecting
the high ranges to major towns in Travancore were built at
sircar expense. The planters also had available a supply of
cheap and docile labor consisting largely of migrants from
neighboring Madras.
I
Plantations grew steadily, and European planters were
soon joined by native ones, mostly Syrian Christian as could
be expected. Table 6 shows the progress of plantation
companies in Travancore. In 1905 there were three plantation
I
20 It is customary to make a distinction between garden crops such as
I
and pepper generally grown by small cultivators and plantation
crops such as tea, coffee and rubber grown by large planters. It is often
difficult to apply this distinction to Kerala since such crops as rubber :u-e
increasingly grown by small landholders. In fact, a very large proportion
of Kerala's export crops are grown by small cultivators today.
21. Varghese, op. cit., p. 117. Varghese also notes that in 1926 the return
from tea gardens per acre was estimated at Rs. SOO per acre.
Table 7
Total Cropped Area and the Percentages under
"Cash" and "Food" Crops in Travancore
Year Total Area Per- Per-
cropped under centage centage
area cash under under
crops cash food
(in thousand acres) crops crops
1920-21 1,952 899 46 54
1930-31 2,108 948 45 55
1940-41 2,374 1,004 42 58
1946-47 2,346 1,073 46 54
Source: Varghese, 1970, p. 109.
companies incorporated and working in Travancore, all of them
British. In 1915 there were 10 and in 1925 a total of 54 of
which 37 were incorporated in Travancore and 17 incorporated
outside but working in Travancore. According to the Admini
stration Report of 1943-44 there were 89 plantation companies
registered in Travancore and 21 registered outside but working
in Travancore. That the imperialist sector was clearly dominant
is seen from the fact that the paid up capital of the 21 companies
registered outside Travancore was Rs. 7.7 crares (73.3 percent)
as against 2.2 crores of those registered in Travancore.
22
And
the Depression Committee reported that of the total area of
184,604 acres under plantation crops only 31,000 acres or 16
percent were held by local planters.
23
Indigenous capital was also being invested in the
reclamation of the backwater area of Kuttanad for relatively
large scale, commercial paddy cultivation. This was being done
independently of cash crop plantations and foreign involvement
and was actively encouraged and promoted by the sircar.
Reclaimed paddy lands in were tax-free for the first
five years and paid a very low tax thereafter. Here too the
sircar built a network of canals and water transport systems at
its own expense. It may be noted that the credit institutions
and banks played a major role in financing this lucrative
enterprise. Many entrepreneurs who leased in substantial
amounts of land were able to buy these from their profits. 24
There is little doubt that the processes described above
had far-reaching consequences for economic
and social structure. First we must consider the radical and
irreversible change in the region's cropping pattern. Table
7 shows the total cropped area and the percentages under
"cash" and "food" crops in Travancore. It can be seen that
by 1920-21 46 percent of Travancore's total cropped area
was taken up for cash crops and that this remained
22. E.M.S. Namboothiripad, Kerala Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow,
1967, p. 96.
23. Ibid.
24. See Joseph Tharamangalam, Agrarian Class Conflict (Vancouver:
V.B.C. Press, 1981), p. 37.
59
Table 8
Population and the Occupied Area in Travancore
Popula- Percentage
tion increase
Year (in 000) over the
previous
period
1911 3,429
1921 4,006 13.9
1931 5,096 24.8
1941 6,070 19.1
1951 7,529 24.0
Source: Varghese, 1971, p. 124.
unchanged until 1946-47, despite a 20 percent increase in
cropped area and a more than 60 percent increase in
population. Even this position was maintained only because
of the cultivation of tapioca, an inferior rice substitute grown
in the less fertile dry lands. The change in cropping pattern
meant that the Travancore peasant could never again fall
back on subsistence agriculture.
The population of Travancore grew by 120 percent
between 1911 and 1951 (152 percent between 1901 and
1951) while land under occupation increased by only 33
percent and the area under occupation in 1951 represented
98.1 percent of the total available for occupation (Table 8).
In the decades preceding 1950 both the rate of natural
increase and the rate of net migration in Travancore
exceeded the Indian average. Travancore's higher rate of
natural increase throughout the twentieth century appears to
have resulted from a lower mortality rate rather than a higher
Land
under
occupation
(in 000
acres)
1,943
2,100
2,537
2,575
2,585
Percentage
increase
over the
previous
period
8.1%
20.8
1.5
0.4(1948)
Occupied
area as
percentage
oftotal
available
for
occupation
73.7
79.7
96.3
97.7
98.1
fertility rate. While the causes of this are not clear, it would
appear this was associated with the penetration of capitalism
and the consequent socio-cultural changes.
If we look at the growth rates of major castes in
Travancore we find substantial differences (Table 9). The
most striking fact is the very low growth rate experienced
by the untouchable castes of Pulayas and Parayas. No doubt,
this is in part due to the conversions to Christianity from
these castes, but it is very difficult to interpret without
careful study. There is reason to believe, however, that
conversion alone cannot explain the substantial difference
between these and other castes such as the Ezhavas and the
Nayars. It seems possible that this very low growth rate has
been associated with the agrarian crisis and the impoverish
ment and disruption experienced by the untouchable castes
of agricultural laborers who were rapidly becoming
proletarianized. Recently Joan Mencher has argued that the
Table 9
Population Growth among Major Castes in Travancore: 1901-1941
Year 1901 1911 1921 1931 1941 Percentage of
increase between
1901 and 1941
Nayars 651,100 639,981 711,772 868,411 1,062,357 89.03%
Ezhavas 491,771 516,265 667,935 896,863 1,038,494 11l%
Christians 697,387 903,868 1,172,934 1,604,475 1,963,808 181.6%
Pulayans 206,503 185,314 196,184 208,132 237,865 15%
Parayans 69,974 70,554 63,038 70,684 77,382 10.6%
Hindus 2,035,615 2,282,617 2,549,664 3,134,888 3,671,480 80.4%
Muslims 190,566 226,617 270,478 353,274 85.4%
Total
Population 2,952,157 3,428,975 4,006,062 5,095,893 6,070,000 105.6%
Source: Census of Travancore, 1931 and 1941.
60
Table 10
Distribution of Population under Different Occupational Groups
in 1911 and 1951 in Travancore
1911
Occupational Population
Category (000)
AGRICULTURAL OCCUPATION
Cultivating landowners 1,164.0
Tenants 124.1
Agricultural Laborers 229.8
Rent receivers 95.8
Cultivators of special products 209.1
Total 1,822.8
NON-AGRICULTURAL OCCUPATION
Non-agricultural commodity production 672.8
Commerce and transport 340.3
Others 593.1
Total 1,606.2
Total population 3,429.0
Source: Varghese, 1970, p. 128.
birth rates of agricultural laborers in Kerala has been falling
faster than those of the general population. 25, In any case, in
the absence of clearer evidence it seems at least plausible to
suggest that the growth and decline of castes were associated
with the way in which they were affected by the new capitalist
economic system.
The evolution of Travancore's occupational structure
reveals some classical tendencies associated with capitalist
penetration and underdevelopment. First of all it should be
noted that there has been a steady fall in the labor-participa
tion rate of adults and a rise in unemployment-trends that
assumed serious proportions in the 1930s. 26 An examination
of broad occupational categories (Table 10) reveals that
between 1911 and 1951 while the population increased by
119.5 percent those under agricultural occupation increased by
136.3 percent and non-agricultural occupations declined from
46.5 percent to 42.8 percent of the population. It is noteworthy
that there was a fall in the proportion of owner-cultivators and
a corresponding increase in that of tenants.
The most significant change, however, was that relating
to the proportion of agricultural laborers. It is difficult to obtain
accurate data on these changes, in part because of changes in
the mode of census classifications. Nevertheless there is little
25. Joan Mencher, "The Lessons and Non-Lessons of Kerala: Agricultural
Labourers and Poverty," Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. XV, Special
Number, 1980, pp. 1782-83.
26. Census of Travancore, 1931, p. 236.
61
1951
Percentage Population Percentage Percentage
of the total (000) ofthe total change
1911-51
34.0 2,295.3 30.5 + 97.2
3.6 439.1 5.8 +253.8
6.7 1,488.6 19.5 +547.8
2.8 84.1 1.1 12.2
6.1
53.2 4,307.1 57.2 + 136.3
19.6 1,586.8 21.1 + 135.9
9.9 710.0 9.4 + 108.8
17.3 923.9 12.3 + 55.8
46.8 3,220.7 42.8 + 100.5
100.0 7,527.8 100.0 + 119.5
doubt that the increase in their proportion has been not only
substantial, but also one of the highest in India. It can be seen
from Table 10 that between 1911 and 1951 agricultural laborers
in Travancore increased from 230,000 or 6.7 percent of those
engaged in agriculture to 1,487,000 or 19.5 percent of
agriculturalists. Indeed, by 1931 their proportion among
agriculturalists exceeded that in every other state except in
Madras and the Central Provinces and Berar.
27
It is significant
to point out here that in 1971 the number of agricultural laborers
in Kerala exceeded that of cultivators and that in some regions
of Travancore such as in the paddy areas of central Kuttanad
their proportion among agriculturalists was as high as 86.28
The agricultural laborers were experiencing significant
changes not only in their proportion but also in their conditions
of work and in their relationship to their employers. The
economic changes were undermining, albeit very slowly, the
many bonds which tied them to their employers. \he full impact
of these changes, particularly the proletarianization of the
agricultural laborers, did not become clearly visible until after
the socio-economic crisis of the depression and the war. The
political mobilization of agricultural laborers as an organized
class began only in 1939 and it was not until the late 1950s
that they emerged as a well-organized and significant political
force.
2

27. Census of Travancore, 1931, p. 245.
28. Thararnangalarn, op. cit., p. 19.
29. A more detailed discussion of this process can be found in my book
(Ibid.), especially in chapters 4 and 5.
The relatively high proportion of the population in
industrial categories is misleading and it should not be taken
as an index of industrialization. These included workers in
plantations and in very backward and agro-based cottage
industries such as coir-making, the making of beedis or
local cigarettes, and carpentry. Significantly these workers
include a disproportionately large number of women. It
would seem that these sectors are the last resort for a large
number of the unemployed and the underemployed. The
fact is that with all its capitalist developments in agriculture
or perhaps because of this development, Travancore showed
a very weak impulse toward industrialization. It is
noteworthy that in the 1960s per capita production in the
industrial sector in Kerala was Rs. 539 compared to Rs.
1294 for India.
30
Furthermore, a disproportionately large part
of the labor force is employed in the tertiary sector. For a long
time, Travancore has maintained a relatively large public works
department, and education, health and other social services.
The sircar seems to have been able to pay for these with the
income from Travancore's export-import trade. It is the extent
and quality of these services that are said to make Kerala a
progressive state in India today. 31
By the end of the depression of the 1930s capitalist
developments had thoroughly disrupted Travancore's tradi
tional economic and social arrangements and brought severe
strains on its social structure. On the eve of independence three
groups, in particular, stood ready to be drawn into radical
political movements. These were: first, the declining and
downwardly mobile Nayars whose position in society had been
thoroughly dislocated; second, the upwardly mobile and
forward-looking Ezhavas who now commanded new resources,
but were nevertheless rebelling against outmoded social
restrictions and injustices; and finally the semi-proletarianized
ex-untouchables who were experiencing new insecurities ~ d
increasing impoverishment at the same time as they saw rapid
social changes around them and were confronting new ideas
about social arrangements. The Syrian Christians who, on the
whole, were the major beneficiaries of these changes did not
entirely escape the effects of the agrarian crisis. They
experienced the highest population growth during this period
and, it would seem, also greater internal differentiation. It
would appear that vast numbers of the Syrian Christian
peasantry were able to escape the worst effects of the crisis by
taking advantage of the new opportunities for migration and
colonization of waste lands, first in the high ranges, and since
the 1940s increasingly outside the state, in Malabar.
32
The fact
that they were disproportionately involved in these migrations
may also partly explain their very high growth rate. In any
case, on the eve of independence the Syrian Christians as a
whole felt little sympathy for the radical politics of the other
castes; the bourgeois and petit bourgeois Christians were
consolidating their gains while the poorer classes among them
were preoccupied with more cash crop cultivation, commerce,
the possibilities of upward mobility and the acquisition of more
land. *
30. National Council of Applied Economic Research, The Techno
Economic Survey of Kerala, 1963, pp. 9-10.
31. Centre for Developmenbt Studies, Trivandrum, Poverty, Unemploy
ment and Development Problems (United Nations, 1975).
32. P.K. Michael Tharaican, "Migration of Fanners from Travancore to
Malabar from 1930 to 1960: An Analysis of its Economic Cause," M. Phil.
thesis, (Trivandrum: Centre for Development Studies, 1976).
62
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I
Review
by K. Gopinath
The seriousness of the environmental degradation in
India has been well known yet there has been a dearth of
readily accessible information on this vital and pressing
problem. A few attempts in the past have not gone beyond
the specialist and by their nature are undesirably frag
mented. Lately there has been increasing interest in trying
to assess the situation in the newspapers (like Indian Ex
press) and magazines (like India Today). In consonance
with the increased interest in this subject, the recent publi
cation of "The State of ' India's Environment, 1982-A
Citizen's Report," edited by Anil Agarwal, Ravi Chopra
and Kalpana Sharma, is a notable event. In times such as
these, when reactionary and authoritarian trends seem to
be gaining the upper hand, when optimism is a difficult
virtue, the book has come to this reviewer as a whiff of fresh
air. A range of voluntary agencies and individuals, free
from governmental or institutional interference or control,
interested in environmental issues have come together on
a scale never seen before and have contributed their efforts
towards making this report a reality "within a span of 6
months and without a rupee to start with." Financing of this
venture has been by advance sales of the report and volun
tary contributions; grants from government or institutions
were neither sought nor used.
The leitmotifof this report as given by the editors states:
We found that a number of development oriented organiza
tions have begun to focus on the environmental issues . ...
Many ofthem have realized that the conflicts in the develop
mental process are essentially conflicts for control of re
sources , , , that changes in the environment have a direct
impact on the lives ofthe people. particularly the poor. who
are dependent on their immediate environment for their basic
needs. . , . The focus of the report had become sharp-to
explain how environmental changes were affecting the lives
ofthe people.
The book is divided into 11 chapters (Land, Water,
Forests, Dams, Atmosphere, Habitat, People, Health,
Energy, Wildlife, Government), each chapter examining
an aspect of the environment in detail. First, data from the
~ d
THE STATE OF INDIA'S ENVIRONMENT
1982 - A CITIZEN'S REPORT, by Anil
Agarwal, Ravi Chopra and Kalpana Sharma
(eds.). In English, Hindi, Marathi, Malayalam.
$20 (in U.S.). Annually published by Centre for
Science and Environment, 807 Vishal Bhavan, 95
Nehru Palace, New Delhi 11019.
official sources-the Indian Government or its agencies
and UN agencies-is presented, either in the form of tables
or more interestingly as charts. A number of photographs
are also used for emphasis. An interpretive gloss on the
data is also undertaken so that the real significance of these
disturbing data can be easily grasped. Examples:
Before Yamuna enters Delhi, 100 ml of its water
contains about 7500 coliform organisms. After it re
ceives Delhi's waste waters, the coliform count sky
rockets to 24 million.
In the highly grazed Shivalik hills 6 cm of topsoil,
representing nearly 2400 years of ecological history,
often disappears with one monsoon.
Between a quarter to a half of the lands brought under
irrigation can go out of cultivation permanently be
cause of soil salinity and waterlogging.
Cherrapunji-the wettest spot on earth and once cov
ered with lush subtropical forests-is today a barren
area.
Though the forest departments control 23 percent of
India's area, only about 10-12 percent has adequate
forest cover.
In mountainous Garhwal, women walk at least 6
hours 3 out of 4 days to bring back 25 kg of wood each
time.
For the most part, the energy gathering of the poor
does not appear to be the cause of deforestation.
Their hearths bum mainly with little twigs, branches,
leaves and whatever "kachra" (junk) that they can
find.
Secondly, an attempt is made to show that the poorer
sections of society have much more to lose by environ
mental degradation than others-an observation that is
accepted by many with as much difficulty as the fact that
civil liberties and democracy are crucial for the survival and
betterment of the poor. Liberal use of boxed items is made
to recount many of the experiences and insights gained in
the past. Some examples are the Chipko Andolan Move
ment (non-violent action of hugging trees by local populace
63
to prevent felling of trees by forest contractors), Srisailam
dam and the pushing out of the dispossessed, and Women
and Energy for Cooking.
The book offers ample evidence for the sagacity and
desirability of what is often termed as Gandhian or Bud
dhist economics, especially in the Indian context. In a few
words, this means decentralization, the undesirability of
externally imposed solutions or external control of re
sources, self-governance and responsibility at lower levels,
and respect for local initiatives and input in resolving situa
tions. The current top-heavy administration, hardly rep
resentative of the people it is supposed to serve, has either
capitulated to the vested interests causing much misery or
has pursued well-meaning, oftentimes glamorous, but seri
ously flawed technocratic/bureaucratic approaches, bene
fitting few and unwittingly becoming a source for fresh
difficulties. In addition, many crucial actions are under
taken without the consent or input from people who will be
most affected by it, thus insuring either failure or resis
tance. It has been observed that each time a major develop
ment project goes up, or there is a fresh inroad into the
remote areas for untapped natural resources, a new ecolog
ical niche is destroyed and the unlucky people, who called it
their home and relied upon it for their marginal subsis
tence, are uprooted and pauperized. Some examples are:
The dispossession and harassment of tribals. The pro
posed Forest Bill is an example of insensitivity and
lack of understanding on the part of its authors
towards tribals who are accused of destroying forests
without any basis and have had their time-honored
means of livelihood declared illegal in as much as it
depends on collecting flowers, fruits or firewood.
The myopia of this bill is all the more egregious as the
real plunderers of the forest, the private contractors
working for the timber-based industries, will contin
ued to find few obstacles in their way.
The experience of Tawa Dam and others have shown
that more often than not such large irrigation projects
reduce the fertility of the soil by causing waterlogging
and by subsequently decreasing crop production. The
Tawa dam was undertaken without taking into ac
count the impact on soil fertility and in disregard of
the long-standing experience of the farmers of the
area in cultivating the heavy retentive black soil. Ex
cessive surface water, often the result of unlined canal
irrigation, cause the rise of sub-soil water which
reaches the root zone of the crops. Harmful salts
move upwards in the soil along with the water and the
land loses productivity. Groundwater irrigation,
which would have been quite adequate, was never
seriously considered, due to "pathological preoccu
pation with big projects."
Good intentions alone are not enough. Asked to build
a brand new village for disaster victims of a cyclone, a
German architect, Reinhold Pingle, an inmate of the
Aurobindo Ashram at Pondicherry, chose the rammed
earth approach to contain the cost. The mud houses
are reasonably stable and better than what most
villagers could ever aspire for but, surprisingly, the
villagers hardly take care of their homes. Improved or
not, mud is a low status material to them. Mud houses
created considerable disillusionment among them be
cause they had expected concrete houses. "I have
learnt that housing cannot be imposed on the people,
it has to evolve on its own ...."
The most striking observation made by the editors is
that the women of India, who are largely left to fend for the
basic material needs of the family, are more concerned
about husbanding the environment.
Why is it that almost every effort to involve rural communities
in accepting new energy technologies, like improved wood
stoves, community biogas plants or fuelwood plantations,
has failed? ... [because] women are rarely involved in the
projects. When they are consulted the success rate is high.
Men seldom collect or use cooking energy and are least
interested in spending their labour or the family cash re
sources under their control on service technologies that
hardly concern them.
The sharp differences in the interests of men and women
over trees are evident from the experiences of the Chipko
Andolan volunteers. The Chipko activists have encour
aged local villagers to plant one million trees, making it the
country's largest voluntary afforestation program. The
survival rate of these trees is over 85 percent as against
20-25 percent in governmental plantations undertaken by
contractors. When the village assembly was asked to
choose the trees to be planted, the men wanted fruit trees
while the women argued in favor of fuel and fodder trees.
"What will we get if fruit trees are planted," said the
women. "The men will sell the fruits and purchase liquor or
tobacco." In the end, both types of trees were planted to
retain the interest of men, but it is women who have
worked to ensure the survival of the trees.
The above observation also goes a long way in explain
ing why very basic needs like potable drinking water (again
in the domain of women) or sanitation have not been met
whereas rural electrification, even when inappropriate, has
had a semblance of success. Where action has been guided
by real needs of the people, there have been some success
stories. Examples are:
Chipko Andolan movement (hugging of trees by the
local populace to prevent felling of trees by forest
contractors)
Development of improved chulhas (woodstoves): It
has been remarked that the highest pollution any
where occurs in the poorly ventilated huts of the poor
while cooking. Not only is the smoke a health hazard,
it also represents using scarce wood very inefficiently.
Working exclusively with the women ofNada, Madhu
Sarin designed a stove that has a chimney which al
lows smoke to escape outside; a damper between the
chulha and the chimney controls the airflow. The
stove lights with ease and the women find that they
can boil about twice as much water as before with the
same amount of wood.
Sulabh Sauchalaya (latrine): More than 25000 poor
people who previously fouled the streets and parks,
now use a string of public baths and toilets set up by a
voluntary organization called Sulabh international.
Long queues are common. "Every rickshaw puller in
Patna now bathes twice a day." The maintenance cost
64
is covered by collecting a fee of 10 paise from those
who can afford it.
The report is a valuable addition in increasing our
understanding of the impact of domination of one group of
people over another, rich over poor, men over women or
strong over weak. Since this domination is a reality that
cannot be wished away, for those who feel sufficiently
concerned to apply themselves to removing this domina
tion, this report should be of considerable help. It can be
profitably read along with two other books on similar
themes but in different contexts:
Homo Faber by Claude Alvares in the historical/co
lonial context detailing, among others, the rape of
Review
by Elly van Gelderen
This study describes movements against Untouchabil
ity in present-day Punjab, as the subtitle indicates. The
emphasis is on the Ad Dharm movement (with its leader
Mangoo Ram) and relations with other lower caste organi
zations. The Ad Dharm movement began to ftuorish in
Punjab in the 1920s (their first organizational meeting was
in 1925). It was not a movement unique in its kind, for
Untouchable organizations arose elsewhere, such as the
Adi Dravida in Madras. The latter apparently was "the first
to formulate the concept that the Scheduled Castes were
the original inhabitants of India" (p. 24), but this idea
either spread rapidly or was conceived of by other groups as
well. There were attempts to amalgamate groups like Ad
Dharm, Adi Dravide (ad adi [adii: original, ancient) and
other Adi groups in, for instance, Uttar Pradesh and
Delhi, but these were not successful.
J uergensmeyer notes that one of the reasons for this
sudden political activity was the changes in British policies
after World War I. The Government of India Act (im
plemented in 1919) made communal representation possi
ble in the Indian Parliament and this stimulated Untouch
ables to organize (pp. 22-3). In Punjab, Untouchables
constituted ten to twenty-five percent of the population and
before they became organized had always been taken as
belonging to Hinduism by the census-takers (p. 26). In a
state where Hindus did not have a clear majority, it became
Indian agriculture/crafts at the hands of the British.
Food First by Frances Lappe Moore and Joseph
Collins, in the context of contemporary agricul
ture and the depradation of the Third World
agriculture economies at the hands of multinational
corporations.
The book unfortunately does not have an index which
is bothersome. It has a section on resources (voluntary
organizations, articles, reports) which should be of great
help. Finally, there is "A statement of shared concern" of
all those who participated in this report which can be most
easily condensed to a quote of Gandhi's: "There is enough
in this world for everyone's needs but not enough for
everyone's greed." This book is highly recommended. *
RELIGION AS SOCIAL VISION: THE
MOVEMENT AGAINST UNTOUCHABIL
ITY IN 20TH-CENTURY PUNJAB, by Mark
Juergensmeyer. Berkeley: University of Cal
ifornia Press, 1982,350 pp., $30.
important to reconvert Untouchables to Hinduism from
Islam or Christianity. One of the groups doing this was the
Arya Samaj. Founded in 1875, it was a reform movement in
Hinduism, which among other things advocated a more
humane treatment of women and Untouchables (p. 38) and
established a network of schools. Apart from groups like
the Arya Samaj, Muslims, Christians and Sikhs tried to
convert Untouchables to their respective beliefs.
Other "competitors" are discussed: Rishi Valmiki,
Radhasoami, Ambedkar and Gandhi. What has been com
mon, according to Juergensmeyer, to all these organiza
tions of Untouchables and has been the key to their success
is that they are religious organizations: Unkmchability is
rooted in (Hindu) religion and therefore lower castes "see
freedom from oppression not only as liberation from old
social alignments, but as a release from old religious ideas
as well" (p. 269). Once groups shift their emphasis from
religious to political, they lose their appeal, (political in the
sense of entering into elections, having political represen
tation). This happened to Ad Dharm after 1935 (p. 143).
To the question of whether or not religious move
ments like Ad Dharm have been successful, Juergens
meyer gives only a partial answer. He does regard them as
successful in being able to give the lower castes a new
identity. The "crowning moment" (p. 80) of Ad Dharm
was that in the census results of 1931 Ad Dharm not only
65
was listed as a separate category in the Punjab but also that
nearly half a million Untouchables, "perhaps only a tenth
of the total number of o w ~ r caste people" (p. 77), listed
their religious affiliation as Ad Dharm. The movement's
success is measured by the number of people who felt they
belonged to Ad Dharm. A new religion certainly can pro
mote a new sense of personal dignity when castes play no
role in the new religion, but it can also become a dream
world (d. p. 278) which need not imply social equality. To
judge what brought about improvement in the situation of
the Untouchables is a more complex matter than this and
one which the author does not adequately deal with.
According to Juergensmeyer., a secular movement
(such as Marxism or the Congress Party) "is not altogether
convincing" in this Framework of change (p. 220). Western
assumptions on the separation of religion and social values
"simply do not apply" (p. 275). The implication of this
notion is that one could not appeal to the government of
Pakistan to abolish Islamic punishments such as stoning to
death on the secular grounds that they are cruel and inhu
man. Clearly, the author does not approve of Untouchabil
ity even if it is rooted in religion, nor would he of stoning to
death. Yet, he does not address the problem that religious
movements must be restricted in their actions. Religious
movements may be helpful in providing new identities to
people, but a secular government must enforce equality
and justice. The Indian government has not always been
doing that as diligently as possible, but secularity has not
been the reason
1
for its inaction and secularity cannot be its
excuse either.
Compatible with the book's thesis that social reforms
"come in the guise of religion" (p. 4), the reader perceives
two strategies proposed to change Indian society. These
two visions are in conflict with each other: 1) integrating
Untouchables into a (changed) Hindu society, as for inst
ance Arya Samaj, Ambedkar and Gandhi wanted, and 2)
forming a separate organization so as to give Untouchables
pride, religion and organization (p. 293), as Ad Dharm
wanted. Juergensmeyer is mainly concerned with the latter
movement.
The first position involved reforming the upper caste
Hindus, but the Arya Samaj also made great efforts to
educate the lower castes in order for them to be admitted
into Hinduism. In fact, the majority of the Ad Dharm
leaders were educated in this way. Ambedkar's movement,
the Scheduled Caste Federation, became important on a
national level in the early 1930s. It was impossible for this
group and Ad Dharm to amalgamate, however, because
Ambedkar "wanted to join, not a separatist religious tradi
tion, but rather an egalitarian one, which would embrace
the whole of society" (p. 162). He eventually joined
Buddhism as others had joined Christianity or Islam in
search for equality. In Gandhi's case, it is not so clear that
he wanted to educate Untouchables. Gandhi strove for a
more humane Hinduism-a politically conscious Untouch
able was not really necessary. 2
The second position involved giving Untouchables a
new identity, a non-Hindu one. Untouchables, when
asked, do not consider themselves Hindus as Juergens
meyer notes in his introduction. Often a new identity
meant an uplift by showing that Untouchables were the
original people. Emphasized in the book in the context of a
new identity is the veneration by Ad Dharm of Ravi Das, a
sixteenth-century poet-saint "touching the heart of the cul
tural tradition of lower caste Punjab" (p. 83). He was a
Chamar, an Untouchable, who was nonetheless recognized
by both Hindus and Sikhs. J uergensmeyer includes as Ap
pendix B a report, published recently by Ad Dharm, which
narrates how the forefathers of the Untouchables were
enslaved and mistreated by the primitive conquerors. It
describes the religious characteristics and social goals of the
Ad Dharm movement.
Of course, either strategy-integration with or sep
aration from Hindu society-is not a solution in terms of
universal human equality as stated, for example, in the UN
Declaration of Human Rights. However, the second stra
tegy, giving Untouchables a new identity based on their
being the "original" people, contains the possibility of the
oppressed becoming the oppressor. This potential reversal
exists in groups which seek to define their identity in terms
of religion or nationality. One is tempted to say that that is
what identity theories have often been about,3 but Juer
gensmeyer does not take up this question.
J uergensmeyer's book is an interesting historical study
of religious organizations in the Punjab, but the author
leaves this reader in doubt whether religion will ever eradi
cate Untouchability in India. *
3. L. Poliakov, The Aryan Myth: A History ofRacist and Nationalist Ideas in
Europe (New York: Basic Books, 1974).
1. See for instance D. Hiro's The Untouchables ofIndia. rev. ed. (London:
The Minority Rights Group, 1982) pp. 7-12.
2. See E. Zelliot, in M. Mahar (ed.) The Untouchables in Contemporary
India (Tucson: The University of Arizona Press, 1972) p. 77 and p. 88.
66
Review
by Jonathan N. Lipman
The recent flood of books about Chinese women has
concentrated almost exclusively on revolutionary China.
Apart from the compulsory and general "historical back
ground" chapter(s), these works evaluate change and con
tinuity in women's lives only under socialism. Feminist
scholarship on traditional China-in Wolf and Witke's
conference volume, for example-has not yet stimulated
an equivalent body of work on pre-socialist topics. Sue
Gronewald contributes the present volume to address part
of that huge gap in our knowledge. It is the first in a series of
journal/monographs on Women and History, published by
the Institute for Research in History, with a truly dis
tinguished Board of Advisors.
The book describes prostitution in China's urban areas
during the late Qing and Republican periods. Unlike the
work of pop sexologists and hunters for the exotic,
Gronewald's study places the very unglamorous institution
of sex-for-hire where it belongs, in its historical context.
She elucidates the socio-economic matrix which forced
women into prostitution as an alternative to starvation,
violence, odious arranged marriage, or other catatas
trophes. She also includes more general material on
women's lives, which is one of the great strengths of the
book. She demonstrates the continuity between those who
lived in the urban "willow bowers" and their sisters who did
not.
Beginning with the 19th century, Gronewald narrates
recruitment practices, price scale, life cycle, and occupa
tional hazards of Chinese prostitutes. She concentrates,
perhaps unfortunately, on the spotty and imprecise statis
tics, which may tell us less than the folk songs in which
"fallen women" yearn for husband, children, and conven
tional life. Roughly chronological in organization, the
book dwells briefly on the legal and moral status of prosti
tutes, then describes the changes in prostitution which took
place during the wrenching years up to 1936.
The clarity and normative power of the double sexual
standard in China worked to ensure a continuous demand
for prostitutes at all levels of society. Female infanticide
and the impoverishment of the countryside also played
BEAUTIFUL MERCHANDISE:
PROSTITUTION IN CIllNA, 1860-1936, by Sue
Gronewald. New York: Institute for Research in

History and Haworth Press, 1982, 126 pp

their part, denying the privilege of owning wives to many
male survivors of their parents' poverty. The flood of rural
migrants to cities also created gender imbalance in urban
areas-Beijing was 63.5 percent male in 1917-and
guaranteed a flourishing trade in women for sexual service.
Gronewald poses excellent questions, directing us to
ward consideration of the political economy of sex rather
than its exotic veneer, on which previous Western accounts
dwelled at length. She traces some of the changes in
Chinese society which created new pressures and new
survival strategies for poor families. The outright sale of
young peasant girls into prostitution was joined by an
elaborate system of pawning, indenture, false adoption,
and other procedures which reflected a more complex ur
ban environment. Through most of the book, Gronewald
stays close to her core theme: " ... the purchase of women
for prostitution was not qualitatively different from the
general trade in women that existed in China" (p.3). "Nor
mal" marriage represented only the most respectable op
tion among many along the same continuum of dominance
and sexual exploitation.
At the opposite end of the spectrum from marriage,
Gronewald outlines the definition of prostitutes as a de
graded class, correctly connecting that status to slavery. A
prostitute'S "free" status in law often had little power or
validity in a society which, until the 1930s, had no workable
controls on chattel slavery. Throughout the period under
consideration, Chinese society contained a substantial pop
ulation of available, marketable human beings in its
poorest rural areas and urban slums.
The book clearly seeks to reach a non-specialist audi
ence, so much space is devoted to summarizing current
wisdom on the nature of the Chinese family, law, Ii. and
common images of women. Though one could dispute
details in these passages, they bring a lay reader into the
Chinese context rapidly and allow for comparative reading
by students and members of other cultures.
As her final argument, Gronewald examines the re
formist literature and politics of the 20th century as they
impinged upon prostitution. As with the opium trade,
67
smuggling, and other "illegal" activities, the reformers in
20th century China could not suppress prostitution without
endangering the revenues derived from taxing it. In war
lords' China, money for troops, guns, and railroads took
precedence over all considerations of social reform except,
obviously, efficiency in tax collection. So, despite tons of
legislation and dozens of proposals, "prostitution was con
doned in practice and merely regulated in reality" (p. 87).
Admirable and concise as it is, Gronewald's book does
present problems for scholars of Asian societies. Most
troubling, it appears to use no Chinese sources at all,
except for Liang Qichao's 1925 polemic on slavery. Though
this allows all readers to reach for her cited sources, it
deprives us of her experience and research in Chinese
language materials. It also removes from our consideration
those Chinese descriptions and opinions of prostitution
which have not been translated. From Lu Xun to labor
organizers, modern Chinese have commented on and criti
cized prostitution, but they rarely did so in English. She has
thoroughly combed the English literature, though several
19th century accounts of prostitution escaped her bibli
ography, but for Chinese opinion she has had to rely on
summary accounts or, in some cases such as Luotuo Xiangzi,
dubious translations. Future workers must utilize the rich
social descriptions by Chinese and Japanese observers in
order to paint a more complete and accurate picture.
By its exclusive concentration on urban areas,
Gronewald's study ignores the vital and little-known role of
rural prostitutes. Only fragmentary evidence is available,
but some mention should surely be made of the roles and
lives of the "broken shoes" of China's countryside.
Widowed or deserted or abandoned, such women had to
provide sexual services to men in their own villages, not
impersonal cities, in order to survive. The Dragon's Village,
for example, provides English-language evidence for such
a study, and many village accounts in Chinese contain
prostitutes.
Further research will explore such topics and refine
Gronewald's generalizations to greater accuracy. But she
has given us concise arguments from which to work on the
lives of poor women. Their domination by the patriarchal
system represents the vast majority of women, in sharp
contrast to the much-admired heroines of the revolution.
Gronewald can teach us how ordinary women found their
own best interests in sexual servitude, and how others
simpy had no choices at all. Her study takes this important
topic away from-false eroticism and puts it into the arena of
serious feminist scholarship. *
~
~
Socialist
Studies
83
Etudes
Socialistes
A Canadian Annual
THEMES:
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the Eighties
Socialism and
Feminism
The State
Energy and
Independence
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CONTRIBUTORS:
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VARDA BURSTYN C.B. MACPHERSON JEAN-GUY VAILLANCOURT
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FRANK CUNNINGHAM JULIAN SHER BERT YOUNG
Contact:
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471 UniverSity College, University of Manitoba
Winnipeg, Manitoba R3T 2M8
68
I
Review
I
I
1
I
!
1
by A.D. Hann
The value of literary study as a cross-cultural and
interdisciplinary exercise might be demonstrated in a dis
cussion of Frank Chin's two plays. Chin has become promi
nent in recent years as a playwright, editor, and spokesman
for Asian-American writers. Although his work, exemp
lified by these dramas, focuses on the problems of Chinese
Americans, they can be viewed as social or historical docu
ments in the sense that they symbolize something of
America's images of Asia and relations between nations of
Asia and the West. The theme of racial and cultural conflict
is relevant to a broad range of academic disciplines beyond
the field of literature.
Chin gives us an ambiguous, gloomy perspective on
the situation of minority cultures when they are faced with
the power of more technologically advanced nations or are
submerged within a more numerous popUlation as is the
case in the United States. The questions discussed here
with specific reference to American society also arise when
we study the reaction of traditional cultures faced with the
invasion of Western ideology and modem technology. In
directly, the author seems to be asking whether traditional
culture might be destroyed altogether through being com
promised and co-opted by alien institutions. Chin seems to
leave open the possibility that traditional cultures might be
able to develop at their own speed and on their own terms.
If given a chance to select from the outside world only what
is wanted and needed, traditional cultures can assimilate
imported cultural elements with benefit. On another level,
these plays take up racial and cultural conflict and the need
for tolerance between different ways of life. One basic
question which is asked in various ways is whether the
major aspects of traditional or minority culture can or
should be preserved intact. Although these broader issues
are hinted at in Chin's plays, they are aimed primarily at
specifically American problems.
The Chickencoop Chinaman addresses the problems of
individual and cultural identity and the Chinese-American
community's integrity in the person of the hero, Tam Lum.
He is embarked on a quest of sorts: the search for a father
and for himself, a familiar theme in American and other
THE CmCKENCOOP CHINAMAN and THE
YEAR OF THE DRAGON: TWO PLAYS, by
Frank Chin. Seattle: University of Washington
Press, 1981. 172 pp., cloth $22.50, paper $8.95.
Western literatures. The hero is a Chinese-American who
feels out of place both in Chinatown and in mainstream
American society.
Tam searches for a new father and his cultural
heritage. He is ashamed of the older man because of his low
social status and because he is the embodiment of the
stereotyped "Chinaman," a meek, self-effacing, law-abid
ing, and emasculated figure. The hero would like to free
himself of the white Americans' image of the Chinese.
Readers of black American literature will note a parallel
with the black American experience.
A good deal of the discussion is concerned with the
problem of stereotyping. Even "positive" stereotypes such
as the mythical detective Charlie Chan are unacceptable
role models. Chan is not truly representative of Chinese or
Chinese-American culture, being a creation of the popular
imagination of white America. He is a distortion of what
Chinese-Americans are really like, even in such details as
his manner of speaking.
Playwright Chin pays particular attention to the prob
lem of speech and language. Tam Lum's inarticulateness
represents a central issue in the failure of Chinese
Americans to make their way in the dominant society.
Communication is vital to survival in a society like that of
modem America, and minority communities can be
ghettoized linguistically as well as physically.
The use of words becomes a metaphor for other
aspects of Tam's and the Chinese-American community's
effort to deal with white American culture and to establish
an individual and collective identity. Tam is unwilling to
tolerate the stereotyped role of Chinese-American which
would make him acceptable to white America, but on the
other hand he is confused about the role he wants to create
for himself. Tam Lum uses a constant barrage of words-a
mixture of English and Chinese-both as a weapon to
establish or express his power and as a defense to ward off
or baffle those who might approach too closely and see the
emptiness behind the words.
The racial and cultural conflict endemic in American
society forms much of the play's background and affects the
69
characters' interaction. Throughout the play we see the
development of the conflict theme, the use and abuse of
language, and the clash of reality and stereotype. It is
significant that Tam has found it necessary for the moment
to leave his west coast Chinatown environment and fly to
Pittsburgh, a city far from the accustomed haunts of the
"Chinamen," in his symbolic search for a father. Here the
search continues through Tam's plan to make a docu
mentary film about a black boxing trainer, reputedly the
father of a famous prize fighter and an almost legendary
figure in his own right.
In his supposed search for the truth-essential in the
production of a documentary film-Tam stumbles over his
own illusions about blacks, the world of competitive ath
letics, and the fight trainer. In compensation for his own
feelings of inferiority, Tam has projected his illusions onto
blacks. His preconceptions prove to be as false and danger
ous as the notions held by whites about Chinese
Americans. Tam is not only the victim of racial stereo
tyopes, he has created some of his own as well.
Tam soon is disabused of his preconceived images
when he and his Japanese-American friend, Kenji, track
down the fonner trainer in the black ghetto where Kenji
has chosen to make his home. Charley Popcorn, the train
er, rejects the stories that he is the father of the prize fighter
and forces Tam to realize the falseness of his illusions about
ideal father-son relationships.
Further disillusionment from childish dreams ensues
in a surrealistic scene which is inserted into the middle of
the action. Tam's boyhood hero, the Lone Ranger, is con
jured up, accompanied by his faithful Indian companion,
Tonto, who is portrayed by the same actor who takes the
part of Tom, an assimilated Chinese-American writer.
Tom/Tonto stands at the opposite end of the spectrum
from Tam Lum, having made peace with white society and
having gained a limited acceptance. Tam, on the other
hand, seems out of place no matter which way he turns.
The Lone Ranger scene restates the theme of cultural
conflict and the emasculation ofthe "Chinaman" as part of
the general problem of racism in American society. Tam
has harbored youthful beliefs in the virility of Chinese
heroes of earlier times in America, in particular the labor
ers who built the railroad. For Tam, they are part of the
legend of the Wild West, a place and time when cour
ageous, powerful heroes lived, such as the Lone Ranger.
Tam has somehow envisioned the Long Ranger as having a
Chinese face beneath his mask. In fact, the Ranger turns
out to be disappointingly ordinary: an aging white man who
is just another racist-this is symbolized by his capriciously
shooting Tam in the hand, while Tom, as Tonto, stands by.
As an assimilated member of the minority race Tom/Tonto
has to come to tenns with the dominant white society,
accepts his minor role and is content with whatever is left
over for him when the white man has had his share.
Tam is shaken by these revelations from the boxing
trainer, the Lone Ranger, and Tonto. Now that the fragile,
protective shell of his dreams has been shattered, he must
pull back to reexamine his perceptions and fashion a legiti
mate mechanism for dealing with the outside world. His
film will be a straightforward, factual documentary, he
decides, and not a perpetuation of fictional images. The
hero seems resigned to his isolation but freed, at least, from
the crippling effects of living by illusions.
The companion piece, The Year of the Dragon, con
fronts many of the problems that Chin presents in The
Chickencoop Chinaman. In the second play, though, the
author presents the issues of Chinese-American identity
and the future of Chinatown in institutional and sociolog
ical tenns. The choices made by members of the Eng family
embody the alternatives facing the Chinese-American
community as a whole. Chin asks in a general way, without
giving a single, all-embracing answer, whether Chinatown
can or should be preserved, and what it would cost to its
individual members in the case of either preservation or
destruction.
Chinatown, like any cultural or racial ghetto, can be
viewed from conflicting but connected points of view. Such
ghettoes can be seen as creations of white society-like
Indian reservations-places designed to confine and con
trol "alien" members of the community. On the other
hand, they can be perceived as havens offering protection
and limited cultural autonomy to the people living there.
Some questions can never be answered definitively: Is
Chinatown, or any ghetto, a prison or a place of refuge?
Who is served best by the preservation of Chinese
American culture in this context? If the Chinese-Ameri
cans assimilate, are they liberating themselves from a dead
past or betraying their heritage? If they maintain their
identity as Chinese, are they preserving their cultural in
tegrity or perpetuating white society's stereotypes of
"Chinamen"?
To judge from this play, Chin is pessimistic about the
preservation of Chinatown and the Chinese-American
community as organic wholes. He foresees the probable
future development of Chinese America, and by analogy
for other Asian-American communities, toward ultimate
assimilation with the mainstream society and the extinction
of the sort of Chinatown that is portrayed in this play.
"Marrying out white" is the path chosen by Sis, the middle
class daughter of Pa and Ma Eng (Pa's second, American
born wife). Sis has married Ross, a white man enamored of
certain romanticized aspects of Chinese civilization, and
has established herself as a successful Boston business
woman, "Mama Fu Fu." Having rejected the stifling at
mosphere of life in a traditional, patriarchal Chinatown
household, she has moved to the opposite end of the coun
try, a symbolic and actual indication of her desire to dis
tance herself from the ghetto. She ironically capitalizes on
her Chinese background in her own way, presenting herself
as a purveyor of expertise on Chinese cuisine through
cookbooks and food franchises.
The other members of the family remain trapped in
Chinatown in various ways. Fred, the son of Pa Eng and
China Mama (Pa's first, China-born wife), shows the
effects of succumbing to the debilitating Chinatown tradi
tion of deferring to the family patriarch. In common with
Tam Lum, Fred feels frustrated in his desire for individual
identity and achievement. He is handicapped by a sense of
failure and self-hatred. His autocratic father pressures him
to live up to the idealized image of a dutiful son, but
neglects to give Fred credit for his accomplishments. Fred
and Pa both personify many of white America's "positive"
images of the Chinese-Americans, images which have be
come a trap or crutch for many Chinatown residents. Men
70
like Pa and Fred are like Charlie Chan: Fred is a tour
director and Pa is the honorary "mayor" of the ghetto.
Both project the image of being hard-working, submissive,
and obedient, but at the same time they are inarticulate,
insecure, and weak.
The stereotypes of characters and institutions are re
inforced by the chronological setting, which adds a para
doxical note. It is Chinese New Year as the play unfolds,
one of the most important festivals in the Chinese calendar,
a time for family gatherings and general celebration. The
title of the drama offers an additional perspective on cul
tural conflict. The "year of the dragon" is 1976, the Ameri
can bicentennial (though the play was first staged in 1974),
an occasion for pious and often hypocritical self-congratu
lation on the part ofAmerican society as a whole. The years
of American bicentennial celebrations were supposed to
evoke the qualities of the American historical experience.
Thus we have a peculiar juxtaposition of the quintessential
Chinese and American celebrations, and of the millennia
old Chinese civilization and of the young American nation
barely two centuries in existence.
This occasion is not one for celebration on the part of
the Eng family, however, but rather a setting for airing
grievances, raking up the bitterness of the past, and at
tempting unsuccessfully to set up a satisfactory plan for the
future. The New Year is supposed to be a new beginning,
full of hope for the future. Instead it becomes a scene of
lament for the death of the patriarch and the loss of any real
chance for improvement for Fred or for his younger brother
Johnny, who is in trouble with the law and drifting into a
violent life. Both older and younger generations are an
"endangered species, '1 even though they may not be quite
ready to acknowledge it as openly as Sis has by marrying a
Caucasian and leaving Chinatown.
The theme of disintegration is found in Sis' marriage
and move to Boston, in Johnny's involvement in juvenile
delinquency, in the fact that Fred is still unmarried in his
mid-forties and seldom sleeps at home, and in the ap
proaching death of Pa Eng. The opposite theme is ex
pressed by the older generation, especially by Pa's efforts
to keep the family together and perpetuate the old way of
life. He has brought his first wife from China to America,
forced Fred into his current position as a tour operator, and
summoned Sis from Boston for an obligatory family re
union. There is a semblance of unity as the family gathers
around Pa in preparation for New Year's Day. However,
there is too much friction among the characters to allow the
aura of conciliation to remain intact.
Pa Eng has brought his first wife to the United States
for his own benefit as much as for hers. He wants to be
surrounded by a harmonious, respectful, and obedient
family. This generates conflict with Ma Eng, who is uneasy
about the disintegration she sees in the family and is afraid
of the future. She attempts to reconcile herself to the
situation as well as she can. There are unresolved clashes
between Pa and his children. Pa requires Fred to shoulder
the responsibilities of caring for the family, frustrates
Fred's dream of being a writer, and deprives his son of a
chance to be independent.
for his contributions to the family's welfare. Fred resents
his father's pressures. He has become crippled psycho
logically, unable to adapt to a new way of life, even though
he wistfully envisions Boston as an escape for Ma and
Johnny.
Chinatown, with its peculiar blend of Chinese and
American elements, thus remains an ambiguous symbol for
Pa, Fred, and other members of the family. Pa, though he
has roots in China, has brought his first wife here rather
than returning to the old country. He urges Ma Eng to
teach China Mama English and wants everyone to remain
together in the close, oppressive atmosphere of China
town. The ghetto life may represent a safely familiar envi
ronment to Pa, but it is a trap for someone like Fred, who
detests his compromising role as a family supporter. Fred
wants his father to order Ma and Johnny to leave China
town for Boston with Sis and Ross.
Pa refuses, and died before the issue is resolved. The
patriarch has never seen his older son as an individual, only
as obedient son and family provider. Fred's growth as a
man has been stultified. Pa, on the verge of death, wants
Fred to promise that he will remain in Chinatown even
though this may turn out to be a sort of death sentence
pronounced on the family line. There is little future for
Fred and Johnny inside Chinatown and the old way of life
may not long survive the patriarch if everyone decamps to
Boston.
The resolution is inconclusive, as is Chin's vision ofthe
future of Chinese America. If it remains a "private pre
serve" or exotic wax museum for viewing by curious tour
ists or a ghetto for the old and the poor who cannot merge
with the mainstream, it may not be worth saving. It seems
that Chinese-Americans must emulate the majority, as Sis
has done, and compete on the terms of the middle class in
order to succeed outside the limitations of ghetto life. Fred
and Johnny have chosen, or been forced into, a doomed
alternative. There is no sense in continuing in their present
position. But the other way, chosen by Sis (and Tom, of
Chickencoop Chinaman)-assimilation and competition
with the whites on their terms-is not a very happy alterna
tive either, entailing the loss of their cultural heritage.
The lack of a decisive resolution of the issues raised
suggests that the author himself does not know what to
recommend as a satisfactory conclusion. However, it is not
necessarily the task of a playwright or any particular liter
ary work to offer answers to social problems. The primary
function of a writer treating a subject such as Chin treats in
these two plays is to focus the audience's attention on the
general issues and to illustrate the human dimensions of
larger social problems.
By reading or seeing the plays we come to a better
understanding of the social and personal situation of the
dramatic characters, and by extension, we gain some com
prehension of the actual historical problems faced by
people in our society and in other countries. The task of the
playwright is thus carried out by suggestion and symbolism,
rather than through a direct discussion of historical events.
Chin has effectively demonstrated how a literary work such
as a play may serve as a historical and sociological docu
*
Fred despises his role, but he is too indecisive to rid
ment as well.
himself of it. He is angry at being blamed for Johnny's
delinquency while at the same time Pa denies Fred credit
71
Correspondence
To the Editors:
Prof. Jonathan Goldstein sent me a draft of his article.
"Vietnam Research on Campus ... ," (15:4), for comment
but I was unfortunately unable to read it. I regret that I must
now correct it.
While I once attempted to create an organized faculty
group at the University of Pennsylvania, I failed to do so.
I had no connection with the University Committee on
Problems of War and Peace. Anti-CBW faculty activity
while I was in Philadelphia was strictly ad hoc, with those
who could agree collaborating with each other informally
as the need arose. I was. in addition, in Europe after
September 1966. and the greatest faculty activity occurred
after I left the city. There was never such a group as the
"Kolko Committee" before or after that date. Faculty
activity had its own momentum and unique character from
beginning to end.
Gabriel Kolko
Chinese SOCiOlogy
I AnthrOPOlOgy
A Quarterly Journal of Translations
Editor: Sidney L. Greenblatt Drew University
Sources drawn primarily from the People's Republic of China in such
areas as rOle-modeling, formal organization. religion and ethnicity,
social change, women, ideology and political sociology, work and the
professions, education and deviant behavior, family and marriage,
archeology, sex roles, and socialization.
"The level of translation is accurate, and the coverage is useful for the
expert. Libraries taking other M. E. Sharpe, Inc. serials will wish to
consider.'.'-LibraryJournal
Sample Issue Contents
The Chinese Approach to Shamanism
Translated and Edited by Richard C. Kagan, Hamline University
Introduction
Develop the Struggle Against the Shamans
Chapter One: Develop the Struggle Against the Shamans
Chapter Two: The Evil Crimes of the Shamans
Chapter Three: An Introduction to the Anti-Shaman Struggle
in Various Places
Chapter Four: Several Reformed Shamans
Bibliography of Chinese Shamanism: Richard C. Kagan
Quarterly
First Issue: Fall 1968
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Books to Review
The following review copies have arrived at the office of the
Bulletin. If you are interested in reading and reviewing one or
more of them, write to Joe Moore, BeAS, P.O. Box R,
Berthoud, Colorado 80513. This brief list contains only books
that have arrived since the last issue. Please refer to that list as
well for other books currently available from BCAS.
Daedalus, "Human Rights," Special Issue, vol. 112, no. 4 (Fall 1983).
S. C. Dube, Development Perspectives for the 1980s (Humanities Press,
1983).
James P. Harrison, The Endless War: Vietnam's Struggle for Independence
(McGraw-Hill, 1982).
G. Coedes, The Making ofSouth East Asia (reissued Univ. ofCalif. , 1983).
Willem Wolters, Politics, Patronage and Class Conflict in Central Luzon
(The Hague: Inst. of Social Studies, 1983).
Mukarram Bhagat, Land Degradation: India's Silent Crisis (Bombay:
Centre for Education and Documentation, 1983).
Mark Shepard, Since Gandhi (Greenleaf Books, 1984).
R. P. Srivastava, Punjab Painting: Study in Art and Culture (Humanities
Press, 1983).
CASP (Comparative Asian Studies Program) Publications (Rotterdam:
Erasmus Univ.):
I. 1. C. Breman, The Village on Java and the Early Colonial State
(1980)
2. J. A. A. van Doom, Javanese Society in Regional Perspective
(1980)
3. 1. C. Breman, The Informal Sector in Research (1980)
4. G. Teitler, The Dutch Colonial Army in Transition (1980)
5. I. E. Slamet, Cultural Strategies for Survival: The Plight of the
Javanese (1982)
6. J. A. A. van Doom, The Engineers and the Colonial System (1982)
7. J. A. A. van Doom, A Divided Society: Segmentation and
Mediation in Late-Colonial Indonesia (1983)
9. 1. A. A. van Doom and W. J. Hendrix, The Emergence of a
Dependent Economy: Consequences of the Opening Up of
West-Priangan, Java (1983)
Special Issue: Focus on the Region in Asia edited by Otto van den
Muijzenberg, Pieter Streefland, Willem Wolters (1982)
Gavan McConnack, Cold War Hot War: An Australian Perspective on the
Korean War (Sydney, Australia: Hale & Iremonger, 1983).
G. C. Allen, Appointment in Japan: Memories of Sixty Years (Humanities
Press, 1983).
Takie Sugiyama Lebra, Japanese Women: Constraint and Fulfillment
(Univ. of Hawaii, 1984).
James Martin, Beyond Pearl Harbor (Ontario: Plowshare Press, 1981).
Loren W. Fessler (ed.), Chinese in America (Vantage Press, 1983).
Gregor Benton, The Hongkong Crisis (London: Pluto Press, 1983).
Joseph S. M. Lau, The Unbroken Chain: An Anthology of Taiwan Fiction
since 1926 (Indiana Univ., 1983).
David S. K. Chu (ed.), Sociology and Society in Contemporary China,
1979-1983 (M. E. Sharpe, 1982-83).
Paul A. Cohen, Discovering History in China: American Historical Writing
on the Recent Chinese Past (Columbia Univ., 1984).
Molly Coye, 10n Livingston & Jean Highland (eds.), China: Yesterday
and Today (3rd ed.) (Bantam Books, 1982).
Elisabeth Croll, Chinese Women since Mao (Zed Press & M. E. Sharpe,
1983).
Elisabeth Croll. The Family Rice Bowl: Food and the Domestic Economy
in China (Zed Press, 1983).
Chong-Sik Lee, Revolutionary Struggle in Manchuria: Chinese Commu
nism and Soviet Interest, 1922-1945 (Univ. of Calif., 1983).
Perry Link (ed.), Stubborn Weeds: Popular and Controversial Chinese
Literature after the Cultural Revolution (Indiana Univ., 1983).
Vac1av Smi1. The Bad Earth: Environmental Degradation in China (Zed
Press and M. E. Sharpe, 1984).
M. Stiefel and W. F. Wertheim, Production, Equality and Participation
in Rural China (Zed Press, 1983).
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