CIVIL society is a concept which assumes an apolitical, critical stance, setting up resistance and opposition as well as an expressed critique of any malfunction in the political system. It suggests groups that do not seek political power and by virtue of this distancing are able to spot what is wrong with the system and are also able and willing to state this. But a civil society group is at the same time, by virtue of the influence it seeks to wield as an oppositional force and as conscience keeper, deeply implicated in the political. It is a position that appears more and more to be mediatory for the society in which it functions, between positions that that society has occupied in the past and its aspirations for the future.

This seems to me to add an interesting aspect to the notion of civil society in contemporary India where the only mode of functioning possible seems to be the political. It also suggests that the idea of civil society is not a static concept since it is as much reactive as proactive in its stance. Its character is determined by the nature of the arena in which it functions and its association with the political is decided accordingly. In observing Assam in the last decade, it is the transformation of such groups in the face of political necessities that is of interest.

The peculiar position that I see, as both withdrawn from politics and yet participative in the sense of being urged into articulation by the pressure of contemporary political issues, is in its own way a version of what has come to be understood as cosmopolitanism. This might appear an exaggerated description for the narrow and regionally specific positions that are referred to here. But if these positions are examined it will be evident that their rootedness is accompanied by a capacity to see a larger picture than the immediately available, to connect a regional issue with a larger pan-Indian one and to set up networks of collaboration with those forces in modern India that have adopted these issues as their ideological bases.

 

In this sense it brings to mind the kind of position described as rooted cosmopolitanism by Kwame Anthony Appiah¹ – an ethical awareness of others even as one is conscious of oneself. This would mean, in the extension that I make, that a regional position is not necessarily incapable of taking a wider view. It can, for instance, see the big dam issue as both the region’s and the nation’s problem, and pinpoint local corruption as a way of dealing with it on a national scale. Such a perception is also at the root of the shift or change that I see in Assam where the sense of neglect is sidestepped and a theme of participation enters the identity narrative.

Public positions of different kinds, because of the many and varied impetus behind them and the forces that bombard them all the time, are difficult to evaluate for what they really are. It is therefore futile to speak of their activities or their postures in any sense other than merely observing the tenor of statements, the effect of actions in the form of a changed narrative about politics and protest, and declarations about aims, processes and results. For me as a reader with very distinct narrative-critical moorings, the only way that such a situation can be studied seems to be through narratives. I therefore examine the narratives that embody and express these changes.

The reasons and the manner in which change has occurred may be traced to new players and the role of the media in projecting these as well as in shaping through repetition, a popular public discourse about the issues highlighted by these new actors. It is also important to note that the shift that is evident in public discourse is a shift in self-perception, as the attention turns to engagement with and not necessarily opposition to the Centre. In order to track this new character of the ground it is necessary to ask: (a) what this shift actually is and how and why it has occurred; (b) who or what are its agents; and (c) how does it affect the identity narrative.

 

The background of change is the historical sense of neglect that has marked the region’s narrative about itself, influenced its oppositional politics and manifested in the movement against illegal immigration and in the emergence of regional political formations that were seen as necessary to articulate aspirations and fears that were otherwise ignored by successive central governments. The impetus for change is also provided by the continued violence in the region, and people’s growing disillusionment with the agents responsible. But the actual shift has been brought about by skilful users of the oppositional discourse. Among the many players are three that I would identify as responsible for what is an insidious but also in its impact a dramatic shift – the AASU (All Assam Students’ Union), the NESO (North East Students’ Organization) and the KMSS (Krishak Mukti Sangram Samiti). These might be seen as three stages in the process of growth of the new narrative, each building from the gains of its predecessors but also occupying the ground simultaneously.

 

The AASU, powerful in its own right from the time it offered leadership to the people during the Assam Movement (and often articulating the aspirations of smaller students’ unions of various tribal and minority groups) has been responsible for the way in which public opinion about many of the most urgent issues for the region has been formed. At different points its leaders and state-wide network of members have articulated dissatisfaction and objected to political decisions that directly affected the region. The other two groups have essentially grown out of the arena of student politics it has provided, honing skills and tapping into its broad base of membership.

The NESO, directly emerging out of the AASU, is a conglomerate of all student bodies from the north-eastern states. It clearly sees itself as occupying a position that is at least tangential if not oppositional and therefore gives to itself the responsibility of commenting on issues that seem to be endangered by the political processes and voicing opinion and protest.

In earlier reactions to central actions, the NESO had been at the forefront of what might be seen as a revision in the popular narrative of neglect that marks the discursive representation of itself characterizing the region. It has indeed been the originator of a shift in the oppositional rhetoric and towards a more engaged and participative process. But as different issues have come into the public domain, its reaction has been to swing from one position to another, sometimes finding it politic to go with a resistant and oppositional rhetoric and sometimes seeking engagement. By and large, however, it has been unable to shed its beginnings in a position at odds with the Centre and it therefore continues to reiterate the oppositional position in every statement of its concerns.

 

The latest in a series of issues that the NESO has taken up are ‘the enactment of a central act for the safety and security of Northeast students studying in other parts of the country, repeal of AFSPA (Armed Forces Special Powers Act), and effective steps to curb illegal influx’, a call to expedite the peace initiatives with militant groups of the region and demands for special constitutional status for the region, and a special education commission. These demands were made at a rally to protest against the ‘discriminatory’ attitude of the Centre (as reported in The Assam Tribune, 8 June 2012).

This is a curiously mixed set of demands and rationale that supports my claims about a double-edged response. There is here at the same time a relationship to the Centre expressed in acknowledging that the Northeast cannot continue to be out on a limb by itself (so the acceptance of facts like students having to study outside the region, or the region having to appeal to the central government for talks and changes in policy) and a denial of such relationship in wanting a separate status. And this is the inevitability of the Centre-state relationship in a political system that is partially federal, and in a country that is large and multi-ethnic and is bound to resort to such a duality of approach. In Assam it takes the form of a play between a neglect narrative with a long history and an emerging narrative that is both opposed and participative; incidentally, it is with the third group that this duality is most apparent.

Akhil Gogoi’s narrative about his methods and recounting of the history of his group is revealing of the way in which this shift in people’s understanding of their relationship to the Centre is possible to articulate.² Unlike the leaders of the other two groups, Akhil Gogoi appears to believe in the importance of writing and disseminating opinions of and information about the KMSS. Gogoi’s interview to the magazine Aamar Asom is an exemplary text that embodies his perception of the group and its historical development and importance and articulates a critique of the present that marks a departure from the past and points to the future.

 

In the last few years it is possible to discern a changing dynamism in the relationship of state to Centre as new players emerge on the scene in response to the needs of a new generation for whom a continuing battle with the rest of India has lost its ideological edge and is merely perceived as a self-destructive isolationism that keeps the region out of the circle of economic progress, new opportunities and cultural participation.

While what I have elsewhere called a ‘narrative of neglect’ continues to circulate, it is now accompanied by these parallel narratives of participation. The emergence of Akhil Gogoi has brought together disparate voices under a common agenda that coincides with national concerns in areas like corruption, the big dam issue and above all the role/responsibility of civil society itself in offering resistance to political forces, agendas that, as recent events have shown – especially the Anna Hazare-led protest against corruption in public life – are no longer narrowly regional but have a nationwide focus.

 

At the same time as one watches the everyday performance of these acts of moral coercion, one is also alarmed by the inevitability with which the critical, subaltern position, adopted so consciously by the players, begins to acquire the very characteristics of political arm twisting that it purports to fight. I use the term moral coercion to suggest that the high ground of an exclusive moral responsibility seems to be accompanied by a strong desire to force everyone who occupies other positions to toe the line demarcated as ‘right’ by these conscientious objectors and this is a subtext that should remain in the consciousness.

Gogoi’s statement of purpose in the Aamar Asom interview is significant. It has to be seen alongside the growing aspiration of people in Assam at all levels to connect to the larger Indian reality. From overtly oppositional positions during the era of the Assam Movement and immediately before and after, to an eagerness to partake of the advantages of economic and cultural mobility that marks Indian society today, is a significant departure.

It is possible to see in this new eagerness to be part of the national picture the emergence of a discourse that is both resistant and complicit. This is not just a feature of Gogoi’s text, but marks a shift in the nature of Assam’s engagement with the Centre which, in the last thirty years, was becoming severely polarized as different ideological positions played with the idea of Assam’s historical marginalization, and used it as a platform to identify themselves as distinct in the troubled ground of Assam’s political life. (In some ways this has been true of the entire Northeast.) The concentration on themes of violence, corruption and neglect – the three most visible indicators of this marginalization – fed the oppositional rhetoric and made it easy for political players to jump onto these bandwagons and find routes to a dubious fame.

 

With the emergence of new voices and an active visual media that has virtually taken over the role of newspapers in the formation of public opinion, there is a change in the tone, language and content of engagement with the Centre. The concerns, even if they are local, are now presented differently and this is visible in the two major areas that have been at the forefront of public discourse in recent times, especially because of national and local dimensions. These are the movements against big dams and against corruption in public life – two areas that have been strategically selected, using the off centre platform of the kisan movement – an area of work that is difficult to resist for any political formation. This engagement makes it imperative that a new language for dealing with the region’s problems must be shaped and it compels alternative strategies and a more consciously sympathetic approach on the part of the Centre.

The status of KMSS and NESO as civil society groups has, of course, offered the occasion to question what the notion of civil society means in different kinds of societies. The political is inseparable from the civil and this is evident when we examine how groups of this kind teeter on the edge of political positions, allowing a single theme in their resistance agendas to dominate their concerns about society, and sometimes even appearing to be determined by purely personal differences though periodically reverting to a wider social concern that justifies their apolitical positions vis-a-vis the state.

Akhil Gogoi of the KMSS in his interview to Aamar Asom claimed that his group represented the voice of protest of the oppressed, low and suffering masses. And this representation was not on the basis of issues that were floating in the air at different points in time or had become fads, but by giving a forum and leadership to the poverty stricken agricultural worker. Gogoi is also intent on establishing that the KMSS has adopted issues that others have thought minor and has fostered the revolt of the poor farmer. Using this distinctive platform, the issues of the poor, Gogoi then goes on to distinguish his own practice as one that has involved self-education in a big way …asserting that it is only from his experience that he has been able to identify what needs to be done.

 

In an interesting move he has offered his method as paralleling that of Gandhi without, however, making the connection overtly. In the historical overview of the genesis of the movement, he refers to padayatras – the first important one undertaken in 2008 from 6 to 21 March, beginning in Guwahati and ending at Doyang-Tengoni. This is only one of many others and it is not in the specific one or the numbers that are important here. He claims that it was through these journeys that he came to understand the gravity of the problem of land for Assam’s poor farmers. And where this problem is concerned there is no distinction of race, tribe or religion. The problems are of not having land, or not having titles to land, of flood and erosion and these affect all farmers (Gogoi to Aamar Asom, 55. Paraphrase mine).

Gogoi has also called the movement political, but has tried to situate it in the larger sense of awareness of political processes and the awakening of people to their problems and their rights. In an interview to the Dainik Janambhumi, he eschews participation in the electoral process, pinpointing the problems rather as embedded in the constitutional provision for central ownership of state resources and in the increasing role of global financial institutions in dictating policy. And in a statement of his political philosophy, he seems to move away from classical Marxism (much of which is based on texts and figureheads with little connection to Indian reality). He claims rather that his Marxist philosophy is based on tradition, folklife and lore and culture, alongside a progressive outlook that departs from the merely transformational aspect of classical Marxist political positions.

 

As one observes these responses it becomes clear that we are not only speaking of a particular region or of a region-specific approach. In this mix of emotions that emerges in groups of this kind, it would seem to have become almost a truism that Centre-state relations are always caught up in a uniquely double approach.

Gogoi arrives on the scene at a time when the disillusionment of people with the efficacy of regional parties to articulate aspirations to the Centre is almost complete. This is evident in the increasing marginalization of the AGP and the return to power of the Congress and this is as much a symptom of the duality that marks these relationships as are the more individual centred approaches.

In a sense, it is possible against this background to begin to think anew of Gandhi’s political legacy that has been a mixture of protest and engagement and see how it resurfaces in these new players who interpret their public roles tacitly as Gandhian and non-violent. Gandhi was a rooted cosmopolitan to use the felicitous formulation made by Kwame Anthony Appiah. Astute, suave and elite by profession and education, and politically trained by his years in South Africa, he was also consciously rooted in an Indian reality that he saw as including India’s diversity, poverty and economic base in the rural and the agricultural. And he captured the imagination precisely because of this heady mix of the rooted with the cosmopolitan.

To make an association with Gandhi might appear to be a somewhat contentious claim, but it remains a fact of India’s public life that protest of any kind always pays more than lip service to Gandhi’s political methods and the most recent use has been by Anna Hazare. And often it becomes apparent that it is the method that dignifies the players, and their attempt at repeating the model in their practice elevates both practice and players above the merely run of mill.

 

In the case of Gogoi, for instance, his narration of the development of his movement from yatras and observation of how the poor live is a gesture back to Gandhi’s own journeys across India to acquaint himself with the masses. Gogoi’s interviews where he speaks of his own positions, some of them now collected in Gana Sangramar Dinlipi (A Diary of a People’s Movement) forms a narrative that has been shaped by several aspects, not the least of which is Gogoi’s own self-perception as a leader who has educated himself in the condition of the people he represents, and who approaches issues with a thoughtful understanding different from other young leaders who have emerged in Assam during and after the Assam Movement. The self-narration through a tacit model that is useful precisely because it is unstated and therefore left open, is a necessary aspect of how a role is performed. The gesture to Gandhi presumes that a certain moral awareness is a component of such self-fashioning and if Gogoi’s narrative of his practice, the history of the KMSS and his choice of issues and targets is examined, the attempt to set himself apart is evident.

Gogoi’s opposition is both to the ruling establishment in Assam and at the Centre. But instead of attacking the problem at the surface, as the AASU had done in its choice of illegal immigration as its major issue, Gogoi takes it at another level as the problem of land and landlessness (which is the same problem stated differently) and addresses this as affecting the poorest – what he calls the oppressed, low and poverty stricken. And by setting up collaborative networks with pan Indian movements on these issues, especially in the case of big dams (which has as one of its elements the relationship to land of the poor) and corruption in public life, he has ensured that the position occupied by the KMSS will remain on the national radar on the same plane, if not on the same scale, as the Anna Hazare-led movement or the Narmada Bachao Andolan.

 

In this choice (determined very much by his Marxist training), one sees his ability to play off opposition and engagement (a Gandhian legacy). This is another way of adopting what I have called a participative and resistant approach, a sharpening of political thinking that is likely to work over a longer term as the basis for a more engaged relationship with the Centre, suggest new ways of conducting the Centre-state relationship and revise the role of civil society as not only apolitical but by acknowledging that in today’s world civil society can only be effective if it is able to give itself a political edge while retaining its distance from actual political aspirations.

 

Footnotes:

1. Kwame Anthony Appiah, The Ethics of Identity. Princeton University Press, Princeton, 2004.

2. Akhil Gogoi, Gana Sangramar Dinlipi (A Diary of a People’s Movement). Akhar Prakash, Guwahati, 2011.