So, the Konkani Bhasha Mandal has come out strongly in support of Chief Minister Pramod Sawant's decision to make Konkani mandatory for obtaining government jobs in the State. This sounds good in theory, especially for those who believe the fruits of local "development" should go to the people of the State.
But, there is a twist in the plot. Goa's Official Language Act, 1987 (OLA, 1987), ensures that only the Nagari script is legitimised by the Government. This means that those who are less familiar in this script, or more comfortable with the Romi script of Konkani, would automatically stand at a disadvantage.
This has to be seen against the backdrop of the all-out rush for government jobs in Goa. Not everyone gets a fair share of these. Take a look at the current make-up of government departments, and it will be clear that minorities are mostly conspicuous by their absence. Their numbers have been falling sharply over the years. In addition, some talukas and constituencies are grossly over-represented. In other words, those with political godfathers (or the right affiliations) get a disproportionate share.
But this column is not about language, or the discrimination that can be coded also into what seems like a good policy. Let's look at how Goa, despite having its own positive sides, can also be a society which tends to exclude people and sections, without any regrets.
In so many fields -- employment and business, politics and administration, language and culture, education, tourism and business ownership, land and housing, the social and the religious world, fishing and traditional occupations, and gender and LGBTQ+ issues, Goa continues to remain a society which believes in a 'keep the others out' policy.
The Other here could be anyone we don't like. People who are different from us. The definition of The Other keeps on shifting. It changes with time.
Enough said about government employment, its impact is there for all to see. Private sector too shows a marked preference for migrant workers, due to lower wage expectations and different work cultures.
Caste-based exclusion is a reality too. It's not about reservation; some reservation is surely justified. But traditional occupations are dying; and some feel trapped within low-paying traditional fields. Caste often connects with politics, in varied (sometimes changing) ways, though we mostly don't like to discuss this.
About politics, there's no denying it. Some posts, slots and seats are informally reserved only for certain segments. 'Sons of the soil' sentiment are played up for emotional reasons, but migrant vote-banks are also a reality. These come in handy. Communal politics, soft or not-so-soft, have been a reality since the 1960s. Or even much earlier. If the Portuguese were invited to conquer Goa, that could also be blamed on the communal politics of another century.
Language and culture continue to divide. The Konkani versus Marathi war consumed Goa's 1980s, the Medium of Instruction battle (Konkani-and-Marathi versus English) saw us conflicted in the 1990s and 2000s. Issues like script are still unsorted.
It is also true that while English is unofficially still privileged, speakers of vernacular languages get step-motherly treatment. At the same time, you will also get criticised for the dialect you speak, for having a less-than-perfect knowledge of Konkani grammar or vocabulary.
In education, the English versus Marathi (and sometimes, Konkani) schools has seen a divide. Even if getting admission to fairly good (but not top-end) schools is not so tough in Goa, the gap still remains. In recent years, the collapse of Marathi primary schools, and growing aspirations of parents towards English education has implications of its own.
Traditional business owners have felt edged out by large corporate and other outstation entrepreneurs. We are yet to understand what's happening on the shacks front, and why that field is going the way it is. Why are once-capable local entrepreneurs preferring to sub-let their operations to others, often out-of-state entrepreneurs? What has suddenly changed? Colva activist Judith Almeida's viral video on this issue raises some crucial issues.
Today, the sentiment is rife that people from other States, mostly from the North, are buying out land and property in Goa, on an unprecedented scale. This didn't happen even in Portuguese colonial times. Such a situation leads to feelings of resentment and exclusions. The "but who is selling the land" jibe from the political elite doesn't answer any questions.
Government policies definitely seem to favour builders and high-income buyers, some indulging in purely speculative purchases. The many who need a roof over their heads are left in the lurch.
Caste-based exclusion in villages is an age-old practice. As caste morphs into class, the situation stays mostly unchallenged.
For decades now, as the late Matanhy Saldanha (whose own trajectory took him from a badly sidelined activist, to virtually being the short-lived deputy chief minister in a BJP government) would know, traditional fishermen felt badly excluded by politically connected mechanised entrepreneurs. Most of the latter were a creation of the MGP days, with some spillover into Congress times of the early 1980s.
Goan women have their own issues to face too. In migration-oriented areas of Goa, we might seem to have almost a matriarchy in place. But issues of women's deprived status in property inheritance and business leadership is stark. How is the later to be solved, even while addressing concerns like fragmentation in property ownership? Of course, the latter would be no alibi for continuing an imbalanced gender policy.
All in all, Goa remains a society that excludes. Such an approach helps no one in the long run. It needs to be confronted and challenged, not pushed under the carpet, as we usually do.
