By Rev. Lyndan Syiem
“These are voices of hunger and desperation, the voices of single-parent families that must pay the rent and feed young children, that we as a society cannot ignore. One of the marks of a good and compassionate society is how it treats the poor and the powerless.”
There is no denying the severe socio-economic impact of this lockdown, now into its seventh straight week. There is also however no denying that this lockdown has reduced the spread of COVID 19 infections and thereby decreased the number of deaths. In a situation of two equally-undeniable but polar-opposite propositions, what is the solution for us ordinary citizens? Is it ‘safety first’ or ‘give us bread’? In reality, we need both safety and bread. Thus far the government has been able to enforce its will and the Meghalaya citizenry has generally submitted to the harsh restrictions. But there are also voices of dissent from the streets and the marketplace, amplified by the local electronic media. These are voices of hunger and desperation, the voices of single-parent families that must pay the rent and feed young children, that we as a society cannot ignore. One of the marks of a good and compassionate society is how it treats the poor and the powerless.
Indeed, this is one of the marks of true religion, as we read in James 1:27: “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.” In quoting from one particular Scripture, I am not limiting practical religiosity to one particular faith. Rather, compassion and generosity are found in the ethical teachings of all religions. The first part of James 1:27 needs no interpretation and its practical application to our present crisis is eminently clear. The second part though has usually been interpreted exclusively in terms of avoiding moral and sexual pollution. The context of the passage however indicates that “keeping oneself from being polluted by the world” also includes eschewing materialism, selfishness and greed. The very next chapter sternly warns against partiality towards the rich and disregard for the poor.
The Graeco-Roman world of the early centuries CE was one of the great achievements of human civilization in law, administration, public works, literature and the arts. But at the same time, it also employed slaves, oppressed women, suppressed ethnic and religious minorities and neglected the poor and powerless non-citizens, the ‘plebians.’ This was part of the “moral pollution” that James, the brother of Jesus, warned his brother’s followers against. This, among other Scriptures, was what guided the early Church to the triad of temperance, moral purity and charity. Their sobriety and acts of charity distinguished the early Christians and attracted the neglected masses to what the Roman elites, the ‘patricians,’ mocked as a lower-class, Eastern sect. The lesson from history is that every society and religion must guard itself against selfishness and self-absorption; it is in their own long-term interest to reach out beyond the traditional boundaries to serve the poor and huddled masses.
In the Roman empire, the patrician elites lived either in villas outside the city or in ‘domus,’ spacious homes in exclusive zones, similar to gated communities in large cities across the world. One of the stipulations of this lockdown is isolation in family units and physical distancing from everyone else. The danger of six weeks of such seclusion, compounded by home delivery and 24×7 internet, is that even compassionate and normally generous people become isolated and insulated from the reality of hunger and deprivation outside their compound walls. Outside the walls, is the harsh reality that Veronica Pala has described in her article “Landlessness in Meghalaya …” (ST, 11 March, 2017) and Patricia Mukhim has documented in “The myth of ‘Community’ in Meghalaya” (ST, 3 March, 2017). Other writings and surveys reveal the following:
76% of rural households in Meghalaya are landless while, according to the 2011 census, 70% are dependent on agriculture. The result is sharecropping, in which wealthy landowners receive from a third to half of the produce. Rural distress leads to urban migration, where large families cram into small, badly-maintained tenements, similar to the crowded ‘insulae’ in ancient Rome. From my own experience of visiting and praying for migrant families in such tenements, the few economic opportunities for migrant men are as construction workers and daily wagers in the services sector; for migrant women, it is as hourly housemaids, street vendors and for the fortunate few, as shop assistants. The lockdown has suspended their usual earnings and exhausted their meagre savings. Most churches are aware of their plight and many have distributed food and cash relief to such households.
The first part of Mukhim’s article-cum-book review focusses on land acquired by the government for institutional, resettlement and industrial use. She criticizes various agencies for flouting land laws and questions how some portions of land have devolved to industrial and private ownership. She asks about people displaced by land acquisition for mining and infrastructure development and inquires into their present condition. Mukhim also examines the concept of community land among the Khasi-Jaiñtia people, which she argues has not really benefitted poorer members of community and clan.
Other sources indicate that when land use in rural areas changes from agricultural/forest to mining/industry, the long-term beneficiaries are few and the people displaced are many. These beneficiaries usually come from the village itself; they are not perceived as exploiters but as smart entrepreneurs. Most of the displaced get some compensation initially but they eventually migrate to urban Meghalaya, seeking economic opportunities and social reintegration. Some of these have prospered, but the majority have suffered tremendously under the pandemic and lockdown. Besides these migrants, there are also many urban-born poor that have suffered loss of income and depletion of savings.
What is our response to such suffering? I am a social and religious conservative, as you may have discerned from my writings, who will not directly confront people and demand radical changes in the socio-economic system. Besides, our ministry habitat includes both rich and poor; we have to serve both the wealthy and the destitute. And one prefers persuasion and gradual change to confrontation and revolution. Hence the appeal, “A Season for Kindness” in my previous article. This does not mean that we ignore the voices of street vendors, small business owners and daily wage earners that we hear almost daily on our local electronic media. We also cannot ignore the voices of social activists who speak, at great personal cost, on behalf of the deprived.
At the same time, we hear daily briefings from government figures about the positivity rate, the ratio of recoveries to infections, Vaccination hesitancy, with appeals for COVID appropriate public behaviour. The ordinary citizens consent because we are afraid of a surge of infections that will overwhelm our health system’s approximately 1000-bed capacity to treat patients with severe conditions. But it is difficult for average citizens to choose between ‘safety first’ or ‘give us bread.’ Some commentators on YouTube videos have insinuated that it depends on whether the citizens are salaried/pensioned or belong to the business/services/unorganized sector.
The former support the lockdown, ‘safety first,’ because their monthly income is protected. The latter want an end to restrictions on trade and services. However, this is not a simplistic case of ‘purse determines perspective.’ Because there are many salaried/pensioned people, as also many wealthy business people, that have genuine concern for the economically distressed. Some have contributed large sums to religious and social organizations for relief to the poor. Some have preferred their local dorbars to distribute money and materials. Others are quiet philanthropists in their neighbourhood. Whatever your preferred mode, the Master’s command is to “love your neighbour as yourself.”
Some on social media have tried to polarize between government employees and the non-salaried. However, one of our legislators recently gave a fine speech where he asked his audience of vendors and daily wage earners not to begrudge government employees their monthly salary. Because when they buy goods and services from you, they are helping you earn money; your spending will in turn benefit others. He said the state government’s monthly salary bill is 480 crore rupees, most of which enters the local economy. He explained in simple terms what in Economics is called the multiplier effect. I fully agree. Polarization does not make economic sense. Cooperation is more sensible.
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