—Woody Guthrie
During a recent visit to Dholavira in Kutch, where the archaeological remains of an ancient Harappan settlement dating back to 1900 BC are located, a tourist guide had a sad personal story. In the early 1990s, the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), a government-owned body under the Ministry of Culture, acquired land from more than 10 agricultural families around the excavation site to expand its discovery coverage. On the surface, it seemed routine. Except, none of the families accepted the compensation as they felt it was too little. They either wanted a job or an equivalent parcel of land elsewhere. ASI could not comply, forcing land-owners to seek legal redress; The case dragged on for more than 25 years, forcing villagers to travel 250 km each time a new date is announced by lower courts. Meanwhile, the guide, lacking a formal higher education but perhaps the most knowledgeable person in the village about the settlement and its history, becomes a security guard to keep food on the family table.
This sad detail shows the importance of the land, in addition to the usual tale of official indifference. Under the original transaction, the landowners did not oppose the acquisition of the ASI, but only asked for state employment or compensatory land elsewhere. The reason is simple. Economics 101 lists two primary factors of production: capital and labor. Land is capital, and when combined with labour, it generates regular income. The landlords of Dholavira wanted land—any land—to keep the flow of their income uninterrupted.
At the second level, beyond this economic and transactional relationship, land is invested with several layers of importance. For many agricultural families, despite their marginal holdings, land serves as the basis for social, cultural, linguistic and family ties. Land was also the primary motive for early mankind’s migratory impulses, to brave the elements, and to settle in other places traveling across continents without modern navigational aid. Lust for land also drives humans to invade other regions, even if it means war and bloodshed.
This centrality of land to people’s lives is the key to understanding the reasons for the year-long, staunch opposition to three agricultural laws to be repealed by Prime Minister Narendra Modi. Several interpretations of his influence were made, both in favor and against him, but no version was able to allay the widespread fears arising from this legislative exercise.
One of the proximate reasons was the way in which three laws—the Farmers’ Produce and Trade Commerce (Promotion and Facilitation) Act, the Farmers (Empowerment and Protection) Agreement on Price Assurance and Agricultural Services Act, and the Essential Commodities (Amendment) Act, 2020— was carried forward through Parliament. Legislative equality requires due process, and involves reaching out to key stakeholders or even acknowledging the opposition’s disapproval and making changes. Agricultural laws were first introduced as ordinances, which were then replaced by bills during the 2020 monsoon session of Parliament amid a raging pandemic and eventually led to a debate on voice vote, defying all opposition demands. was passed by. The government did not even subject the three Bills to scrutiny by a parliamentary panel as per normal practice. Legitimate questions can be raised as to why farmers should be bothered about a short parliamentary process, if the laws were designed to their advantage.
The Triple Act, which was apparently designed and sold as farmer-friendly, had three legs. One, it gave farmers the freedom to sell their produce anywhere and to anyone, without being legally bound by state-run market places. Two, it allowed farmers to enter into contracts with buyers even before sowing, whereby a farmer could sell his produce to the buyer at a predetermined price. Third, the Center was keen to exempt many crops—pulses, oilseeds, onions and potatoes, among others—from regulations that controlled or restricted their production, supply, distribution and trade.
The government’s flouting of the legislative process likely went to farmers, who feared that these laws were designed to benefit larger groups who could use their influence to control farmers and agricultural trade. Right or wrong, the government’s haste in implementing them did not help allay these fears. Given how marginal farmers lack agency, or the means to seek legal recourse, especially against powerful corporations that have a record of subjugating legal processes, such concerns should have been anticipated.
Land is the last missing piece in the jigsaw puzzle. India’s average operational agricultural land holdings have declined. As per the last agriculture-census held in 2015-16, the average land holding was 1.08 hectares. The National Statistical Office’s 2019 survey on agricultural income, released this September, showed that farmers with less than 2 acres of land (90% of all farmers) had suffered poor income growth from farming over the past decade. that was less than the rate of inflation. , Agricultural laws gave rise to fears that corporate pressure would further compress this income, causing many farmers to eventually lose their capital. Without land, this could mean losing their identity as farmers, and this was not acceptable.
Rajrishi Singhal is a policy advisor, journalist and author. His Twitter handle is @rajrishisinghal.
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