Goa’s battle for belonging

Goan identity is complex, one that defies a simple definition yet is a term loosely employed by anybody who assumes that they have understood it. Attempting to define it could lead to polemics, as a definition acceptable to all sections of society would be tricky to arrive at. But the many who come to Goa and meet a Goan, find there is something that gives this Goan a certain je ne sais qua that is immediately branded as Goan identity.

The question of Goan identity and its preservation is not a new-fangled idea that is gaining currency only in current times. It was mentioned by none other than the then Prime Minister, Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, in April 1962, when moving in the Lok Sabha, amidst cheers, the Constitution (XII Amendment) Bill, to include Goa, Daman and Diu in the First Schedule of the Constitution. Pandit Nehru had said that even as a Union Territory, Goa, Diu and Daman would have a good deal of autonomy, and their individuality, language and customs would be completely preserved. He had reiterated that the separate identity and individuality of Goa, Diu and Daman would be maintained and the principal language, Konkani in Goa would be given its full place. The Bill was passed unanimously leading the Speaker to remark that this was ‘a unique case, where there have been no Noes’.

This was a statement for Goans to cling to and in the immediate aftermath it was what Nehru had said that Goa’s stalwarts who rose to quell the possibility of merger with Maharashtra banked upon.

Goa’s identity linked to land, language

Goa’s identity is intrinsically linked to the land and the language both of which have a historical context. Parts of Goa came under colonial rule in the XVI century and to this were added parcels of land in the XVII and XVII centuries, eventually giving Goa is geographical boundaries. A Goan, therefore, is one who lives on the land, whose boundaries were determined centuries ago and remain the same till date. Under Portuguese rule, Goa was isolated from British India and was liberated 14 years after India’s Independence, integrating with the country as the Union Territory of Goa, Daman and Diu.

Goa was not merely geographically insulated from British India, but the colonial occupation brought with it influences on the culture and heritage that are still visible today, in some instances more prominent than others. It was perhaps a result of this that led to the politics of identity that emerged in the 1960s leading to the Opinion Poll and Goa rejecting merger with Maharashtra. Yet, that wasn’t a massive victory as the margin was much lower than one would have expected and it is this division among Goans, visible in that Opinion Poll of 1967, that makes defining Goan identity tricky. The chasm is wide and bridging it would demand a feat of engineering yet to be discovered.

A major assertion of Goan identity played out in the mid-1980s with the official language issue. Konkani, in Goa written in the Devanagri and Roman script and spoken across the State, was marginalised during the Portuguese rule. Efforts to revive it came later during the colonial period and the language became a symbol of Goan identity, pre- and post-Liberation.

As a Union Territory, statehood would only be possible for Goa based on having a language, as states had been reorganised on linguistic basis, and Konkani was the selected language. The demand for making Konkani the official language of Goa was countered by the Marathi lobby that sought the same status for Marathi. It led to a protracted agitation, the kind Goa has not seen since, until finally in February 1987, Konkani was made the official language and a few months later, in May of the same year, Goa became a State, with Daman and Diu remaining as a Union Territory.

Growing migration into Goa

Statehood put an end to any possible merger and strengthened the identity theory, but in practical terms the growing migration into the State gave Goan identity new dimensions as it absorbed from cultural practices and the way of life of those settling here. The Economic Survey 2004-05 indicates that about 50 percent of the residents of the State may not be descended from Goans. In the 20 years since then this would only have further increased and in the absence of firm statistics, we can only conjecture that Goans are possibly a minority in their own State.

Migration, leading to a change in demographics and socio-economic structures, today reflects on the land use battles that the State is facing. The growing discontent to ‘mega projects’ in rural areas leading to acrimonious meetings of the gram sabha and protests, are an assertion of the Goans being aware that their identity is in peril. There is a perceptible change in the cultural fabric of Goa and this is gnawing at the question of identity.

Goa’s identity is undergoing a change wrought about mainly by migration of Goans out of Goa and of others into Goa filling up the spaces left empty by those seeking greener pastures abroad. Migration hasn’t been a one-way street but both ways, resulting in a more obvious change in the identity.

Need to protect Goan identity

What, then makes one a Goan? Identity in very broad terms, in the Goan context, would be the characteristics that distinguish the Goan from the others. Characteristics by which a Goan can be easily identified as one such, and merely being a resident of the State would not be a qualification, not from the perspective of Goan identity. That’s possibly a reason why not every resident of Goa is immediately or easily accepted as a Goan.

While colonisation played a large role in shaping the Goan identity and is today under the lens for excesses, there can also be negotiation with the past, where we cull out what adds positively to Goan identity and reject what does not. Cooperation would surely keep alive the cultural ties that percolate from history, but maintaining that undefinable quality called Goan identity would also require that the language and the land are first safeguarded.

Goa’s politics with language needs to stop and both scripts—Devenagari and Romi—should be equally promoted. There is no competition among the scripts, it should instead be a joint effort at preserving the language. Already, changing lifestyles have led to Konkani being spoken less, and unless efforts are made to promote the language—perhaps something as simple as starting every conversation in Konkani—it will have a negative effect on the culture and heritage in the years forward.

So too with the land use patterns. While there is focus on Goans selling land, the more pertinent aspect should be the conversion of the land use and reining that in. Here’s a point to ponder: if land use conversions are restricted—stopping it completely could be too big a demand for the present—would there be such a massive demand for land in Goa? Most certainly not. Goa’s comunidades could play an important role in safeguarding the land and retaining its usage.

It is, undoubtedly, the obligation of the State to retain the culture, heritage, language, land but the people who live on the land, speak the language, enjoy the heritage and take pride in the culture also have duties and not just rights. These duties would be to partner with the State to protect all that which contributes to Goan identity. The Goans cannot be strangers in their own land, they will have to fight to retain their land, language and the identity that arises from this.