Elite Pluralism and Class Rule: Political development in Maharashtra, India 9781487586157

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Jayant Lele is a member ofthe Departments of Political Studies and Sociology at Queen's University, Kingston. Based on a study ofrecent political behaviour in a rural region of India, the author presents a critique ofpluralist theories ofdemocracy and advances a new approach to political sociology. Professor Lele insists that the politicians of Maharashtra sustain, however dispersed, a hegemonic class rule. The processes of development and modernization directly serve strategies ofprivate gain through the public sphere; the elites continue to enclose the public sphere while propagating the myth ofopen competition. Case studies oflocal, state, and national politicians illustrate this behaviour and show how competition between powerful alliances is effectively moderated. The concluding section proposes a new comparative approach to political sociology. It demonstrates the inherent contradiction between domination and community, and argues for a historical analysis ofthe rise and fall ofclasses and ideologies. Professor Lele challenges the emphasis on modernization and instrumentality in contemporary social science, and suggests that the insights ofMarx and Weber can lead to a more precise and universal framework for the study ofsocieties.

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JA YANT LELE

Elite Pluralism and Class Rule: Political Development in Maharashtra, India

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO PRESS Toronto Buffalo London

© University of Toronto Press 1981 Toront0 Buffalo London Reprinted 2017

ISBN 978-0-8020-5440- 1 (cloth) ISBN 978-1-4875-8711-6 (p apeq

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Lele, Jayant. Elite pluralism and class rule. Bibliography: p. Includes index. I. Maharashtra, India (State)- Politics and government. 2. Elite (Social sciences) - India - Maharashtra (State) 3. Social classes - India Maharashtra (State) I. Title. JQ620.M26lA4 301.5'92'0954792 78-21167 ISBN 978-0-8020-5440-1

Contents

LIST OF TABLES

PREFACE ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

2

4

vii

xi xxxvii

45

112

5 141

APPENDlX:

NOTES BIBLIOGRAPHY

213

vi Elite Pluralism and Class Rule NAME INDEX

253

GENERAL INDEX

257

List of Tables

I Comparison of incomes between village leaders and voters Comparison of education between village leaders and voters 3 Caste by occupation Areas of consultation and relation of consultant to respondent Financial problems: relation of consultant and caste of respondent Voting: relation of consultant and caste of respondent Nature of contact outside village, by caste Nature of contact outside village, by occupation 9 Extent of contact outside village, by caste of respondent 10 Extent of contact outside village, by occupation of respondent II Party affiliations of respondent and his kin, by caste of respondent Castes, candidates, and voting in Musalgaon 13 Object of vote in the state legislative election, by caste 14 Object of vote before and after the state legislative elections Decision to vote, by caste Contact with campaigners, by caste Awareness of levels of government, by caste Awareness of elected officials, by caste 19 Health projects mentioned, by caste 20 Construction projects mentioned, by caste

58

64

68

88

viii Elite Pluralism and Class Rule Construction projects mentioned, by occupation Education projects mentioned, by caste Agricultural projects mentioned, by caste Agricultural projects mentioned, by occupation Co-operative projects mentioned, by caste Co-operative projects mentioned, by occupation Political awareness, by caste Visits to government offices, by caste Visits from government officials, by caste Political contact, by caste Political judgment, by caste Political judgment, by occupation Political participation, by caste Orientation to the future, by caste Articulation of major problems, by caste Pearson's R correlation matrix for politicization indices Politicization scale, by caste Three groups compared on caste Three groups compared on income Three groups compared on education Two groups of elites compared on landholding Position in panchayat, by caste Position in district and taluka governmental units, by caste 44 Position in co-operatives, by caste Position in co-operatives, by income Position in educational organizations, by caste Position in para-partisan activity, by caste Principal arena of respondent, by caste Principal arena of respondent, by income Level of political activity, by caste Multiple membership in arenas, by caste Multiple membership in arenas, by income Participation in the independence movement, by caste

List of Tables ix 54 Participation in the independence movement, by income 55 StratP.gies of rejected alliance leaders 56 Votes received by candidates in their own villages: Satara district (percentages) 57 Official and rebel Congress Party candidates in Nasik district general elections, 1967 (percentages of votes polled)

152

58 Official and rebel Congress Party candidates in Nasik district general elections, 1972 (percentages of votes polled)

183

136 150

181

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Preface

In May 1980 Mrs Indira Gandhi's Congress Party won the legisla­ tive elections in eight out of nine states. In five of them it won a massive plurality of seats. In 1971, when she won the parliamentary elections after a major split in the party, many commentators spoke of an 'Indira wave.' In 1977, when a coalition of opposition parties aided by a large influx of Congress dissidents trounced the Congress Party at the polls under the new banner of the Janata Party, they spoke of a 'Janata wave.' In 1980 it was time for the return of 'Indira wave.' These explanations of electoral outcomes rest on many unexamined assumptions. They show a modernist prejudice towards the masses, who are seen as easily swayed by clever electoral campaigns. Consequently, politics is often studied only in terms of the personal aspirations and manipulations of major leaders. On the other hand, those who are more conscious of the social and economic structures that lie behind and dictate electoral preference treat politics as a surface phenomenon of little consequence. And yet these surface phenomena of political bargaining impinge heavily on the lives of the people. In either case the crucial question of the specific mediations between formally democratic politics and the social structures of domination remains poorly examined. Those who do attempt to link Indian politics with the social structure encounter the complex phenomenon of caste. The relation­ ship between castes and social classes is a vexing problem. To some, castes are mere vestiges of a disintegrating tradition. Others see them transformed as interest groups adapting to the compul­ sions of modern democratic politics. Anthropologists identify some castes as dominant. As such, they are not ruling classes. A dominant caste in a village often includes a large segment of the population. It encompasses families of dependent tenants and labourers along

xii Elite Pluralism and Class Rule with those of landowners. In Maharashtra, unlike most other states where several landowning castes inhabit different regions, one dominant caste, the Maratha, spans the entire state. With a history of local and regional rulership of several hundred years, it also dominates the contemporary political scene. Estimated at about 40 per cent of the population, the Marathas have controlled nearly 80 per cent of the positions of political power. In this book I have tried to show how the numerical strength of this caste is, historically, a consequence of the rulership strategy of its elite. I have caBed that strategy patriarchalism when applied to its own masses and patrimonialism when applied to other dependent castes. I have also tried to show how, since independence, these strategies have merged with the democratic political arena through a strategy of pluralism. The limits of pluralism arise in part from variations in the structure of castes, variations which have been accentuated by the very practice of pluralism. In Maharashtra, pluralist politics has been synonymous with Congress Party politics. The limits of pluralist strategy became fully visible after the first split in the Congress Party in 1969. Their impact on Maharashtra was delayed until after the second split in 1978. Until the first split, Y.B. Chavan had fashioned and managed politics in Maharashtra through a hierarchy of formal structures - local governments, co-operative and educational insti­ tutions, the party - as arenas of political competition. Associated with these emerged a hierarchy of informal structures of factions and alliances mediated by the mechanism of patronage. With adjustments for differences in the structure of the dominant castes, Congress politics in other states and at the Centre was also based on a pluralism of competing alliances. Politics in the North, for example, differed somewhat from that in Maharashtra because of the relative inflexibility of the boundaries of the dominant castes. It meant unstable intercaste competition and alliances (as, for example, between Ahirs, Jats, and Gujars in U.P.), since none of them could singly exercise regional hegemonic domination equi­ valent to that of the Marathas. The result was a continuation of dominant role for upper castes such as Brahmins and Banias. In Maharasbtra such upper caste elites were replaced by the Maratha elite as soon as independence and political power were on the horizon. The relative solidarity in the Congress Party and the stabi­ lity of its regime for over eighteen years were a result of Maratha hegemony. In turn, during this period, these characteristics con­ tributed to Chavan's power at the Centre.

Preface xiii

In the northern states competition between alliances of dominant caste elites proved suicidal for the Congress Party in the 1967 elections. Coalitions of opposition parties were able to divide dominant caste elites and defeat the Congress Party through alliances with elites of lower castes. The defeat of the Congress Party in these states was coupled with a drastic reduction in its majority at the Centre, which meant a weakening of the alliance leaders from the Congress minority states. It increased the bar­ gaining power of those from Congress majority states such as Maharashtra. In 1966 Indira Gandhi had become prime minister with the support of several strong alliance leaders from North and South. In 1967 she had to depend much more heavily on the support of Y.B. Chavan. Conscious of her weak position during this period she complied with the requirements of competition and compromise. But she also tried to weaken other alliance leaders wherever possible. In 1969 several of them came together, intending eventually to put an end to her leadership. As a first step they sponsored Sanjiva Reddi for the post of national president, despite Mrs Gandhi's objections. In response to these pressures Indira Gandhi had to assess the limits of pluralist politics vis-a-vis her status as the party leader. As a leader without her own directly loyal alliances in one or more states, her position was bound to remain pre-carious. She realized that despite contrary slogans, pluralist politics had been mostly a politics of exclusion of lower castes. Even guaranteed reservation of places in the political arena had been reduced to selective patron­ age for loyal supporters. Discontent against such patrimonialism was gradually growing among the educated youth belonging to the scheduled and other lower castes. A possibility existed of mobilizing these castes for electoral support and bypassing domin­ ant caste pluralism. In outmanoeuvring her established opponents in the party, therefore, Indira Gandhi resorted to populist slogans and symbolic radical gestures such as nationalization of banks and abolition of privileges of the princes. Before 1969 she had yielded to the pressures of interested alliance leaders and delayed the implementation of the same policies, ignoring counterpressures from others. In 1971 she followed her success in the presidential election with a snap parliamentary election in which she won a large majority. In Maharashtra, Chavan, who had stayed with her after the split, contributed a great deal to her success. In many other states and in parts of Mabarashtra her populist appeal to lower castes worked, partly because the

xiv Elite Pluralism and Class Rule dominant caste elites in the states were, as usual, less interested in parliamentary politics. By holding parliamentary elections separately from those to state legislatures she was able to avoid direct confrontation with pluralists. In recognition of this fact and mindful of the social structure on which democratic politics rests, Indira Gandhi, while maintaining her populist posture, confronted the problem of arena politics. She encouraged elites of subordinate castes to enter the political arena with her support. She presented this encouragement and her policies for marginal improvements in lower class welfare as evidence of her commit­ ment to radical change. Encouragement for lower caste elites to enter arena politics remained limited by the strength of the domin­ ant caste alliances in state politics. To circumvent or control them she evolved the strategy of centralism under which powerful state alliance leaders in the political arena were to be replaced with those directly dependent on her for patronage and support. Using her prerogative as the national party leader she began to replace chief ministers with her own men. In Maharashtra it was necessary for Mrs Gandhi to find some­ one who had the capacity to dislodge Chavan from his supreme position. Her first choice was Y.J. Mohite, an articulate but not very powerful elite Maratha from Chavan's district. However, Mohite declined her overtures in 1971. Her next direct opportunity to undermine Chavan came with the candidate selection for legis­ lative elections in 1972. The man who offered himself as an instru­ ment of her centralist strategy was Shankarao (S.B. Chavan). He was backed by those Maratha members of the parliament who had aligned with her against Chavan in 1969. At first she supported Shankarao and insisted on the inclusion of two of his nominees in the Pradesh Election Committee (PEC). Under V.P. Naik as chief minister in 1969, her populism had failed to penetrate the immunity of the pragmatic Maratha elite despite the efforts of Shankarao and the few MPs. Naik reminded her of the dangers of supporting weak alliances in Maharashtra. In order to avoid another confron­ tation, she backed off. At the same time Naik gave her an indica­ tion of his desire for some autonomy from Chavan. As a member of a tribal community Naik was well placed to symbolize her populism, better placed than Shankarao, an elite Maratha. Naik responded immediately to Mrs Gandhi's populist demands by including a large number of non-Maratha elites as legislature candidates. Shankarao failed to be similarly sensitive in pressing the claims of his proteges. This added to Naik's credibility, and

Preface xv Mrs Gandhi withdrew her support from Shankarao at the crucial moment of candidate selection. Chavan was no doubt aware of the implications of these moves. However, an open repudiation of support to Naik at this stage would only have strengthened the latter's links with Indira Gandhi. While Chavan was in charge, politics followed the pluralist pattern set up by him. The important regional differences in the structure of Maratha domination remained beneath the surface. Although the proportion of the population that claims to be Maratha is roughly the same in various parts of the state, articula­ tion of its elite-mass components is different in the four regions of Vidharbha, Marathwada, Konkan, and Western Maharashtra, because of differences in their social and political history. Chavan fashioned his factional-alliance strategy on the basis of his experience in Western Maharashtra. There, as a result of the l Satyashodhak Movement (see chapter 2) broad-based aliances between regional (deshmukh) and village (patil) Maratha elites had come into being. They facilitated the continuation of patriarchal and patrimonial strategies and the rise of hierarchical structures of pluralist politics. This 'civilized' relationship between various levels ofMaratha elites had not emerged in Vidharbha andMarath­ wada before their entry into Maharashtra. Whereas the designation Kunbi, indicating a distinction between village and regional Marathas, had disappeared from Western Maharashtra by 1940, it was still commonly used in other regions. Through it theMaratha masses remained conscious of their distinction from local pati/s. More importantly, it separated regionally dominant deshmukhs from patils as well as Kunbis. In Marathwada, for example, Chavan encountered serious difficulties in creating a hierarchical structure of competing factions and alliances in the 1960s. He encouraged several local Maratha elite members like Shankarao to enter the political arena. None of them was able to emulate Chavan in creating his own structure of support based on competing, lower level alliances. Chavan continued to intervene, directly and through Naik, in the alloca­ tion of patronage even at the district level. Established deshmukhs shunned Chavan's attempts to introduce upstarts into regional politics and were reluctant to share the arenas of power with village elites. In the absence of a well-articulated structure of factions and alliances, politicians from Marathwada were unable to compete effectively for a larger share of the state's resources. Since develop­ ment would have led to a wider access to patronage to the village

xvi Elite Pluralism and Class Rule elite and increased competition from below, backwardness became functional in retaining traditional patterns of power in Marath­ wada. This configuration began to change slowly with the introduction of uniform structures of government across the state. A younger generation of local Maratha elites found its way to schools and colleges run by the elites and subsidized by the state. Over a period of twenty years these younger people became conscious of the impotence of the existing alliance networks in fighting the economic backwardness of the region. The preponderance of dry farming, subject to the vagaries of the monsoons, and the prevailing condi­ tions of drought, inflation, and unemployment gave a cutting edge to their dissatisfaction in 1973. At first the agitation for better employment opportunities showed the promise of their making a common cause with students of the scheduled castes who were demanding better educational opportunities. The latter had become conscious of their depressed status after attending schools and colleges set up with the inspiration of their leader, Dr Ambedkar. However, the radical potential of such an alliance was not lost on the older upper caste and Maratha elites. They exploited the student agitation for their own ends by diverting it from specific issues towards a vague demand for regional development. Compet­ ing political alliances supporting Chavan, Naik, and Shankarao destroyed the potential unity of a progressive youth agitation through their control over educational institutions. They dissipa­ ted its momentum by involving students in factional fights. Shankarao appeared to emerge as a major regional alliance leader after these events, but only by default. Despite a nearly spontaneous and widespread political agitation by the newly conscious Maratha elite, neither he nor anyone else could establish clear regional pre-eminence by developing a lasting hierarchical structure of competing alliances. Naik on the other hand had at least temporarily established himself as the only alliance leader who could claim to speak for Vidharbha. When it joined Maharashtra, Vidharbha already had a functioning structure of alliances. Within it there were differences. The four districts of Nagpur, Bhandara, Chanda, and Wardha (Nagpur districts) had a distinct political history and a zamindari system of land tenure. They are primarily grain growing, dry farming areas, in contrast to the Berar districts of Akola, Amaravati, Buldhana, and Yeotmal. In the latter districts ryotwari was the prevalent land tenure and cotton a primary crop. In the Nagpur

Preface xvii districts both the economic and the sociocultural distance between the regional Maratha elite and the Kunbis (including patils) is greater than that in Berar districts. In both parts Congress leader­ ship had originally rested in the hands of Brahmin landlords, officials and professionals. In Berar districts it was replaced by a combination of deshmukhs and Marwaris. The longstanding kin­ ship ties of Vidharbha deshmukhs with other parts of the state were instrumental in their affinity for Maharashtra state and in their subsequent entry into integrated elite Maratha alliances. Naik inherited and nursed this structure of alliances in Berar districts while allowing some inroads by socially not so distinct patils at lower levels. Beneath the surface calm of deshmukh­ Marwari domination remained basic conflicts between the interests of rich cotton traders and cash crop farmers, smaller grain pro­ ducers, peasants, and labourers. The last two groups are also socially separated, as Kunbis, from deshmukhs. Thus, on the whole there exists greater socioeconomic distance between Maratha elites and masses in Vidharbha than in Western Maharashtra. A similar distance separated the middle castes from elite Marathas and made them potential allies in a struggle against the deshmukh­ Marwari-dominated Congress establishment. Since the power and privilege ofthese elite supporters ofNaik grew substantially through favourable access to state patronage under integrated Maharashtra, anti-establishment consciousness remained covertly attached to a separatist sentiment, particularly in the Nagpur districts. Until 1978, despite such a strong sentiment, calls for a separate Vidharbha state seemed to be a lost cause. The stability of the Congress regime and a lack of sympathy among the hegemonic Marathas contribu­ ted to its declining political appeal. Naik and his allies in the Congress Party were able to win elections with ease in the absence of a competitive structure of hierarchy within the party and of effective exponents of lower caste alienation outside. However, in most districts of Vidharbha, even at the height of Congress hege­ mony in 1972, separatist candidates received a substantial percent­ age of lower caste votes, albeit rarely enough to defeat a Congress candidate. These different socioeconomic and political configurations in different regions suggest that there has existed a greater potential for populist appeal against established alliance structures in Vidh­ arbha than in Western Maharashtra. In Marathwada, populism turned poor Marathas and middle castes into elite Maratha allies against the scheduled castes. This polarization has been exacerba-

xviii Elite Pluralism and Class Rule ted by the meagreness of resources channelled into the region, a consequence of its weak bargaining power at the state level. In the Konkan districts politics either follows the elite Maratha pattern (as in Kulaba) or is influenced by the politics in Bombay city on which lower castes depend heavily for employment (as in Ratnagiri and Thana). In Khandesb districts (including Nasik) non-Maratha counter-elites have acquired a certain anti-establish­ ment and yet pragmatic consciousness of interests. They have rendered Congress politics much more unstable, allowing some, but not complete, eventual domination by Indira Gandhi's populism. These regional differences, only roughly sketched out here, have not been analysed in the latter parts of the book. Even in 1972 they were only vaguely visible because of the predominance of Western Maharashtra politics in the state. It is unlikely that Indira Gandhi and Chavan were fully aware of the implications of those differences even though some sense of their importance may have emerged during the deliberations on candidate selection. The configuration of leaders that evolved after the elections appeared to demonstrate their sensitivity to the needs of regional representa­ tion in state politics. Vasantdada Patil (Dada) gave up his post as party president to enter the cabinet as one of the two deputy leaders at Chavan's insistence and with Indira Gandhi's reluctant approval. Shankarao became the other deputy leader. Thus party leadership was now made a shared responsibility of Naik from Vidharbha, Dada from Western Maharashtra, and Shankarao from Marathwada. To these men Indira Gandhi added Sawant from Konkan as party president. In alliance terms, however, it was actually a fragile equalization of Chavan's and Indira Gandhi's supporters, with Naik holding the balance. Perhaps, rather than a desire for regional balance, this was more an indication of their inability to settle on Naik's successor. At that stage both Indira Gandhi and Chavan were looking for a new, loyal alliance leader in the state. Given the stability of elite Maratha rule despite a prevailing diffused sense of discontent in the masses, they needed someone who could effectively manage arena politics of the elite and yet project a progressive reformist (for Chavan) or radical populist (for Indira Gandhi) image to the lower castes. While Indira wavered between Naik, Shankarao, and Sawant, Chavan temporarily settled on Dada. But he also made his real choice for the future. He asked Naik to take Sharad Pawar, a young educated Maratha from Poona district, into the

Preface xix cabinet. Sharad became a deputy minister and shared the impor­ tant Home Affairs portfolio with Naik. Earlier he had worked as a party secretary with Dada. Together Sharad and Dada represented Chavan's interests in the Naik cabinet. They viewed Naik's growing autonomy from Chavan and loyalty to Indira Gandhi with alarm and maintained a steady pressure for change in leadership. To minimize the impact of these moves Indira Gandhi tried to strengthen Naik.'s position by allowing him to expand his cabinet in 1974. In the negotiations that followed, Naik did not really get what he wanted. Indira Gandhi, still uncer­ tain ofNaik's allegiance, yielded to counterpressures. The expanded cabinet retained the old fragile balance of forces. With the inclusion of many more district-level leaders, it also looked like a cabinet geared for election. In 1971 Indira Gandhi had established her pre-eminence through a snap election to the parliament, and so the new elections were due in March 1976. Between 1971 and November 1974, when Naik's cabinet was expanded, the situation in the country had changed. In Gujarat a student agitation had forced Indira Gandhi's loyal chief minister to resign, and her government had to dissolve the state legislature. By 1974 that agitation bad dissipated itself. In Bihar and U.P., Jayaprakash Narayan had started his agitation for 'Total Revolution' with the support of students. His focus on corruption in high places was aimed at Indira Gandhi's hand­ picked chief ministers. Like that in Gujarat this agitation would have died its own death had a more serious threat to her leader­ ship not emerged. Several alliance leaders, dissatisfied with restric­ tions on the political arena because of her centralism, were encourag­ ing dissidence from within the party in the wake of these agitations. Before such dissidence could undermine her support base in the North she wanted to consolidate it through new elections. She hoped that the magic formula of 1971, centralism and populism, would produce similar results in 1976, thus putting an end to agitations and dissidence at the same time. In November 1974 she challenged Jayaprakash Narayan to abandon agitation and contest elections as a true way to determine people's wishes. By the middle of January 1975 Indira Gandhi had much less reason to be sanguine about her magic formula. Agitation was spreading farther in the northern states, and dissidence was becom­ ing more and more public. The railway strike, ruthlessly suppressed in May 1974, had left a bitter aftertaste. The minister in charge of the railways had been assassinated in Bihar. Opposition parties

xx Elite Pluralism and Class Rule were showing signs of abandoning their differences in order to capitalize on Jayaprakash Narayan's successful counterpopulism. Indira Gandhi's own attempts to arouse popular support through cadre camps aimed at accelerating the implementation of her symbolically radical programs were turning into ritualistic pep rallies with little consequent activity. Worse still, some of them were used by dissidents to voice strong criticism of her centralism. For example Naik, who had himself been strongly criticized by bis rivals for selective use of state patronage to bolster his own alliance, used one such camp to blame the central leadership for not providing adequate resources for the development of backward regions. The pressure from Naik's rivals seeking his departure was simultaneously growing. The major Maratha alliance leaders, including Chavan's men in the cabinet, saw in Naik's enthusiasm for populism and low caste participation a threat to their own support bases. To top it all, Jayaprakash Narayan, in a visit to the state, praised Naik for his progressive government. Having decided that elections to state legislatures would be counterproductive, Indira Gandhi knew that the time had come for Naik to go. She had been unable to groom a successor, but Naik's continuation was becoming detrimental. The loyalties of almost all leaders from Western Maharashtra were suspect. Only Sbankarao's opposition to Cbavan seemed unmistakable. In 1972 when uncertainty surrounded the issue of the chief ministership Chavan had publicly supported Naik's continuation in order to reassure his anti-Sbankarao followers in Marathwada. For him the time was not yet ripe to press a claim for Pawar, and yet he was not too enthusiastic about Shankarao. He tried to persuade Indira Gandhi to retain Naik a little longer, but when she seemed deter­ mined he agreed to her choice. In return his allies were accom­ modated in the cabinet with their previous portfolios. Both Indira and Chavan agreed to and brought about this change as a way to mark time until after the election, which they hoped would allow one of them to make a decisive intervention. In early 1975 their uncertain attitude and the uncertainties con­ fronting the Congress Party everywhere were reflected in a public display of intense alliance rivalries in Maharashtra. Dada and Sharad Pawar, for example, fought openly for the control of several co-operative sugar mills. For Indira Gandhi, plagued by rising dissidence within the party and agitations by opposition parties across the country, the final blow came from a court decision that held to be void her election to the parliament. In June 1975 she

Preface xxi declared a state of emergency and arrested hundreds of leaders and workers of opposition parties and several vocal dissidents from her own. She introduced a strict censorship of the media. The government was run by civil bureaucrats and the police under guidance from Indira Gandhi, her son Sanjay, and a few of their allies at the Centre and in the states. Chavan remained in her cabinet as foreign minister, but his freedom to control state politics was drastically curtailed. In Maharashtra, Shankarao had come to power with little popular support in the state, a shaky base within his own region, and a state legislature packed with men he had once tried to exclude. Rival alliance leaders were poised for a showdown through an electoral demonstration of their strength. They were waiting for the parliamentary elections which had to take place before March 1976. But the elections never came. Instead, under the emergency rule, Shankarao, emulating his national patron, took complete charge of the affairs of the state. In February 1976 be fired both Dada and M. D. Choudhari, whom Naik had favoured as his non­ Maratha successor. He tried systematically to dismantle Chavan's patronage-alliance system instead of using it to build long-lasting alliances for himself through collusion with other senior colleagues. He, with only Sawant as his ally, bypassed other alliances as channels for the implementation of programs and allocation of resources, wherever possible. Although this gave some visible benefits to the lower castes in places where they were better organized to receive them, it completely antagonized the excluded Maratha elites including men like Mohite who had once supported him. Convinced that the nation was now grateful for her progressive measures, counting on good monsoons for a massive electoral victory, thinking that the support base of her major rivals had been permanently damaged, confident that the constitutional changes had given her sufficient power to crush other populist agitations, or warned of the danger that the state apparatus was being run by a renegade bureaucracy instead of popular or responsible local leaders, whatever the reasons, in December 1976 Indira Gandhi suddenly announced that Lok Sabha elections were to be held in March 1977. For all Maratha alliance leaders this became the long­ awaited opportunity to regain the lost ground. None of them could anticipate the actual debacle of the party in the northern states. They adopted the classic strategy of challenging Shankarao's nominees before and after their selection by the party. For Shankarao, on the other hand, it now became necessary to rein-

xxii Elite Pluralism and Class Rule force bis neglected structure of alliances. He and Indira Gandhi gave seats to most of their own allies but also had to accommodate many supporters of Naik, Dada, and Chavan. Naik was nominated to a new parliamentary constituency in Vidharbha. Chavan and several of his allies were also nominated. The Congress Party's heavy losses in the North at the hands of the Janata Party were by and large a result of the revolt of the pluralists. Dominant caste elites were temporarily joined by the leaders of the lower and scheduled castes and Moslems in revolt against bureaucratic ruthlessness or in response to Jayaprakash Narayan's counterpopulism. In Mabarashtra there were also other reasons for the loss of twenty-eight seats. Middle class urbanites were incensed by arrests and censorship, workers by the ruthless suppression of strikes and wage demands. In Western Maharashtra Congress candidates won or lost depending on the support or opposition of a local alliance leader. In Marathwada, where Shankarao had handpicked most new nominees, the loss of all but one seat proved that he had still not developed his own strong alliance. The structural difficulties of Marathwada were demons­ trated by the outcome. Local rival alliances in the party as well as alienated scheduled caste students worked hard to ensure the defeat of official Congress candidates. In Vidharbha the usual signs of intraparty dissension were undoubtedly present, but more important was the new articulation of self-conscious middle and lower caste elites. Some of them supported the nominees loyal to Indira Gandhi as a counterattack on the longstanding Maratha hegemony within the Congress Party. In Akola, for example, scheduled and middle caste vote went to a Brahmin Indira Gandhi supporter instead of a leader of rich Maratha cotton farmers. In Nagpur on the other hand a large number of scheduled caste voters switched their support from an old Republican Party (RPI) candidate to a young Maratha supporter of Indira Gandhi. Similar patterns of non-Maratha lower caste and Kunbi vote for Indira men in the Congress appeared in other Vidharbha constituencies. In some constituencies the separatists mustered their old alliances with lower caste elites, and hence Congress candidates either lost or won by small margins. In general the lower castes rejected the Janata Party as speaking for the rich, for Maratha farmers, or for other upper castes. Paradoxically, in bypassing the established alliances in the implementation of land redistribution and rural housing Shankarao inadvertently won the support of the lower castes for the Congress cause in

Preface xxiii Vidharbha. In general, the pro- or anti-Congress vote of the lower castes and Kunbis was a reaction against the older Congress establishment and its pre-emergency politics in the region, politics which had excluded these sections from the structures of patronage. The alliances nurtured by Naik had worked primarily to benefit rich and middle income farmers and traders through programs that emphasized cheap inputs and high prices for farm products. Heavy losses in the subsequent legislature elections further reduced the credibility of Indira Gandhi's strategies and stature in the North. Chavan and other pluralists returned to centre stage with a vengeance. Their activities were now aimed at restoring the original compromise-competition system of the pre-1969 Congress with the hope that the dissidents who had joined the ruling Janata Party would return. As part of this strategy Indira Gandhi was isolated and her remaining supporters were excluded from decision­ making. A major symbolic gesture signalled their intentions when they decided to support Sanjiva Reddi, the Janata candidate, for national president. They also began to replace her handpicked chief ministers in the southern states. Shankarao was the first one to go. The chief contenders for that position were Naik or his protege Choudhari, Dada, Mohite, and Sharad. Since nei­ ther Mohite nor Choudhari had a strong enough support base Chavan discounted them from the list. Naik had already discredited himself with major Maratha leaders including Chavan. To insist on Sharad Pawar in these difficult times would have antagonized other Marathas. Since legislative elections were only a year away Cbavan could not afford to take the risk of large-scale dissidence. In the event, Sharad Pawar himself took the lead in approaching Dada. With this calculated move he sought to shelve the differences, re-establish his older alliance with Dada, and clear the way for his eventual succession. Despite Mohite's last-minute candidacy, engineered by Indira supporters, Dada's election was a foregone conclusion with guaranteed support from Chavan. In the face of all of these manoeuvres Indira Gandhi's options were rather limited. In the idiom of compromise-competition politics she was now a weaker, junior alliance leader and was expected to play that role until she had reassessed the election results. It seemed clear that her populist strategy was still viable in the southern states. After some initial hesitancy she backed the successful, populist-centralist chief minister of Karnatak in his battle with some of the pluralists now in charge of the party. She took a major calculated risk in resigning from the party

xxiv Elite Pluralism and Class Rule executive and demanding a leadership review. At first both sides threatened to split the party, mainly to gain maximum concessions. In the end, without the cement of political power at the Centre, they were unable to reach an accord. At a convention of her suppor­ ters Indira Gandhi was elected president of the 'real' Congress. Thereafter her strategy in the legislature elections was to ensure success in Karnatak and seek the defeat of the specific, antagonistic pluralists in their own states. By destroying their support bases she hoped to regain the control of the Party. Thereafter, as in the past, the same pluralists would troop back to her bandwagon. Not only in Kamatak but also in Andhra Pradesh and Vidharbha her party won spectacular victories, totally unanticipated by her allies or her opponents. These elections once again demonstrated the regional variations in elite-mass relationships, within dominant castes and between dominant and subordinate castes. They also brought into focus the relative merits of pluralism and populism in electoral politics. In the northern states dissident Congress elites once again defeated Indira Gandhi's combination of populism and centralism through a coalition of political parties representing elites of upper castes. In the southern states of Karnatak and Andhra Pradesh, pluralists in the Congress Party were rejected along with candidates of the Janata Party in preference for Indira Gandhi's supporters. Ground­ work for this successful appeal of populism, it should be noted, was laid under conditions of extreme centralism and absolute personal rule under national emergency. Welfare programs of marginal and symbolic value for the lower castes had been on the party's drawing boards for decades and had been selectively used by pluralists to gain the support of lower caste, subaltern elites. Under the emergency rule those programs were implemented with great fanfare and without the intervention of rival alliances. Indira Gandhi's 'twenty point program' had included no plans for structural changes in rural land-man relations, nor did it seek to transform the industrial system dominated by private monopoly capital. However, small symbolic improvements in life that had previously failed to percolate to the masses won her their support. Even though pluralists were largely bypassed in the implementation of these programs, those in the southern states had by and large remained within the Congress Party. They were able to moderate the bureaucratic excesses that normally accompany absolute personal rule. In the North opposition to her centralism had been much stronger and hence its repression far more severe; many

Preface xxv northern Congress leaders had openly dissented against her and hence were jailed. In the southern states most of them had chosen to remain quiet, and so they retained full control of all political arenas, formal and informal. This may explain in part the stronger, generally negative reaction to emergency rule in the North. In addition, there was the factor of Jayaprakash Narayan's populist appeal. In Maharashtra the pattern of the Lok Sabha elections of 1977 was repeated, with one major difference. Instead of one Congress Party, now there were two. The issue of pluralism versus populism was, for the first time, clearly articulated. In Vidharbha it became even sharper through Indira Gandhi's open alliance with the separatists. In view of the structural conditions described earlier the outcome now seems inevitable, but to the participants it could not have been obvious before the elections. They made strenuous efforts to keep the Party united. To the state leaders the new presence of the Janata Party was a great source of uncertainty. Its success in the Lok Sabha elections and the consequent loss of power at the Centre had struck a blow at the very roots of the Congress system. No one was in a position to contain the rival alliances in their demands for maximum concessions. Electoral success alone could determine the relative merits of claims and counterclaims. However, precisely for that reason, most alliance leaders in Maha­ rashtra were anxious to remain in power, and for them the only way to ensure success was to keep the Party together. Because of the intransigence of the central leaders, their efforts were completely unsuccessful. The subsequent behaviour of the alliance leaders can be understood in light of this dilemma. For example, as a Vidharbha leader, Naik should have joined lndira's Congress to maximize his own chances, but as a state leader he found it neces­ sary to join hands with the pluralists from Western Maharashtra. He therefore treated the split as a temporary pre-election manoeuvre and did everything not to jeopardize his subsequent reconciliation with Indira Gandhi. Dada, Chavan, and Sharad Pawar also expected realignments and reconciliations but of a different order. Their plans were predicated on their understanding and assessment of the Janata Party. In Maharashtra the Janata Party had only three major com­ ponents: the socialists, Congress dissidents, and the Jan Sangh. The last was known in the state for its Hindu militancy and a largely Brahmin and upper caste urban constituency. The socialists also had a small urban constituency of largely working and middle

xxvi Elite Pluralism and Class Rule caste groups. The number of Congress dissidents in the party was small. There was no component equivalent to Charan Singh's Lok Dai at the Centre that could represent the alliances of hegemonic rural castes. Both socialists and dissidents shared an attitude of suspicion towards the Jan Sangh, as did all rural Maratha elites. The roots of this suspicion and hostility date back to the eighteenth century when powerful Brahmin ministers had first usurped the royal Maratha power. Subsequent colonial experience during which Brahmin bureaucrats and professionals joined hands with upper caste traders and moneylenders in undermining Maratha elite dominance did little to improve this situation. Socialists, some of whom had joined the Congress Party under Chavan's persuasion, shared his gradualist, reformist stance and his pluralist vision of development. In the absence of their own rural base they looked forward to an eventual dissociation from the Brahmin­ dominated Jan Sangh and were favourably disposed to a long-term realignment with Chavan's Congress Party. Hence, socialists and Congress pluralists saw the Janata Party as only a temporary marriage of convenience. Similar considerations were also at work among the Janata components at the Centre. Hindu militancy had always found greater receptivity in the North. The Jan Sangh, with its organized cadres of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), was justly feared, therefore, for its plans to take over the party organization. Only the cement of power and distrust of each other's intentions was holding the coalition together. Indira Gandhi's supporters, believers in lower caste populism and centralism, were even more suspicious of the Jan Sangh. For them, the socialists and Congress dissidents were equally suspect, however, because of their association with Jayaprakasb Narayan and their anti-Indira stance. In rural Vidharbha neither the Jan Sangh nor the socialists bad a constituency. For Chavan and Dada this factor also had to be weighed in planning a state-wide strategy for an eventual realignment of populist and reformist forces. They persuaded Naik, despite his uncertain loyalty, to remain with them precisely for this reason. For all the participants the election did not resolve the dilemma of choosing allies and defining enemies. If anything, it made the problem even more acute. Instead of being dissolved through realignment, the unhappy marriage of the Jan Sangh and the socialists proved fatal to the Congress in cities such as Poona and Bombay and in the dependent Konkan districts. The Janata Party won ninety-nine seats, lndira's Congress won sixty-two, mostly

Preface xxvii in Vidharbha, and Chavan's won sixty-nine, mostly in Western Maharashtra. Since the established alliance leaders chose to remain with Chavan, the task of orchestrating anti-establishment, separa­ tist, lower caste networks in support of Indira Gandhi fell to Tirpude, a one-time Mahar protege of Chavan. Having correctly assessed the mood of Vidharbha, he played the populist themes to maximum advantage. His success went far beyond all expectations. In the end none of the parties was in a position to form a government on its own. Before his final decision to form a coalition with the Indira Congress Dada held lengthy negotiations with the dissidents and socialists in the Janata Party, who assured him of their support. However, in view of its long-run goals, Dada could not take the support of the Jan Sangh component for granted. The options open to Chavan's Congress were to let the Janata Party or the Indira Congress form a government on their own with its condi­ tional support or to form a coalition government with the Indira Congress. The latter option, given their conviction that pluralist politics could thrive only under a renewed Congress system. was preferred by most Maratha leaders. With the control of power and patronage they hoped to accelerate the reunification process. Chavan and Sharad Pawar only reluctantly agreed with this conclusion. They were more favourably disposed to an alliance with the Janata Party in view of its imminent collapse. They wanted to rejuvenate the Congress system without having to accept Indira Gandhi as its leader. Dada, along with other Maratha leaders, on the other hand, was reconciled to return to pre- I 97 I politics under Indira. At the same time they tried to negotiate a fair share of power for Chavan and his allies within a united Congress. In the end, Sbarad joined Dada's cabinet but continued to oppose moves towards unity with the Indira Congress. Chavan also remained openly opposed to such a move. In view of the mounting internal tensions in the Janata Party be remained optimistic about a 'third force' that could attract pluralists and reformists from all parties. In Maharashtra, where socialists and Jan Sangh supporters were nearly equal in strength and mutually suspicious, there seemed to be just as much reason to resist unity with Indira Congress as to promote it. Hidden under all these options was the real question that plagued all alliance leaders. It was the question of political power, defined as access to material resources designated as public. Since none of the options seemed to guarantee stable and long-run distribution of political power, uncertainty extended far beyond the time-span

xxviii Elite Pluralism and Class Rule expected either by Chavan or Indira Gandhi. As a result attempts by rival alliances in the coalition to undermine each other regardless of party affiliation became intense. Every attempt to end uncer­ tainty and to bring stability merely added fuel to these fires. While Dada saw Chavan-Sharad moves as major irritants and obstacles in the reconciliation efforts, Chavan came to suspect Dada's loyalty in view of his reluctance to stage a confrontation with the increas­ ing assertiveness of Tirpude and his colleagues in the cabinet. The stalemate was beginning to become unbearable for all actors. Threatened with dissidence in her own party because of elusive unity prospects, to restore Dada's wavering faith in unity, to under­ cut the power base of the intransigent Chavan in his own state, and to nullify his opposition to unity, Indira Gandhi was rumoured to have advised Dada to dismiss all pro-Chavan ministers from the cabinet as soon as the assembly was adjourned. Confronted with such a sudden move, faced with the prospect of being forced out of power and left without the assembly floor for counteraction, Sharad's- alliance network would have rapidly dwindled. In a pre­ emptive move against this plausible threat he resigned with three of his cabinet colleagues while the assembly was still in session. With the help of the Janata Party, its allies, and over half of the Congress legislators, he formed a coalition government of which he became the chief minister. Chavan was the acting president of the national party at this time. Before Sharad Pawar's move Dada had offered a compromise by which the party would refuse to form a government and end all efforts for unity with the Indira Congress. This had been Chavan's preferred option when the coalition was formed, and he seemed to favour it again. Torn between forces opposed to the Indira Congress and to the Janata Party, other national Congress leaders also agreed and expected Chavan to enforce the compromise. Sharad Pawar, however, mindful of the absolute necessity of access to power to keep the loyalty of many of his allies, refused to comply. Although Chavan disapproved of this refusal publicly, he began to see the logic of Sharad's action and its advantages for his own position in the state and at the Centre. The pro- and anti-unity alliance leaders continued to battle within the Congress Party. A temporary advantage gained by the anti-unity group was destroyed when the party was forced to support Indira Gandhi for the parliamentary seat in Karnatak. Her victory in that election was nullified when the Janata-dominated parliament disqualified her, forcing her to contest the election

Preface xxix once again. Indira Gandhi's political future was an issue that various components in the major political parties tried to use to enhance their power. In the end it contributed most to her own bargaining power. By August 1979, nearly two and one-half years after the emer­ gency rule had ended, politics in the states and at the Centre had not regained stability. Instead, each of the major parties had gone through a series of internal convulsions while rekindling hopes for a final realignment. The scene resembled that of 1967 when the limitations of pluralist politics had first come in focus. In 1971 Indira Gandhi had, through a clever combination of populism and pluralism, brought the Congress system back out of the chaos of 1967. In early 1979 she looked forward to a similar comeback. These expectations remained unfulfilled until January 1980, when, having aided the dissolution of the Janata Party and its government at the Centre, she returned to power after the parliamentary elec­ tions. This was followed by spectacular electoral victories in several states. Her return was not the outcome Chavan and many other alliance leaders had hoped for. For them, Indira Gandhi had been respon­ sible for distorting the Congress system through excessive centralism and arbitrary control of competitive elite pluralism. At first they were encouraged by the internal conflicts in her party leading to the dismissal of two important major populists: Devraj Urs from Karnatak and Tirpude. Men like Dada and Naik, reluctantly reconciled to the idea of uniting with the Indira Congress, were constrained for some time by these internal convulsions and kept their options open. Chavan regained his status of the leader of the opposition in parliament from the Indira Congress in June 1979 following the entry of Urs followers. This symbolized the hope of an emerging third force of anti-Indira Congressmen. In the meantime the Janata Party also faced a series of crises. At first the prosecution of Indira Gandhi for alleged crimes during the emergency was the issue used by several alliance leaders to undercut others. In the end the internal contradictions came in focus on the perceived threat of a takeover of the party organization by the Jan Sangh component. The latter had, as expected, engaged itself in incessant grass-root activity in the northern states through the disciplined cadres of the RSS. Dissension between former Congressmen (including Charan Singh's dominant caste coalition of Jats and Ahirs from U.P.) and the socialists was used to advant­ age by the Jan Sanghis by playing them against one another. As a

xxx Elite Pluralism and Class Rule result Charan Singb's dominance in his two states of influence (Haryana and U.P.) was threatened. Out of these considerations the various components of the Janata Party began to look for a winning coalition with outside elements, each wanting to retain access to patronage and power. Consultations between the leaders of the various components of the Janata Party and those of the Indira and Chavan Congresses went on between April and August 1979. Each group was seeking to pre-empt moves by the others that would give them a bold on the government. One such opportunity arose when Chavan as the new leader of the opposition introduced what seems to have been a routine motion of non-confidence in the Janata government. Charan Singh and his colleagues seized the opportunity to leave the Janata Party and form a coalition government with Cbavan's Congress. In this manoeuvre they needed the support of Indira Gandhi, who also wanted to see a swift demise of the shaky Janata rule. All of them acted in anticipation of a rapid realignment towards a renewed Congress system that each hoped eventually to rule as supreme arbiter. Such a realignment did not occur immediately, because the new coalition was totally dependent on the support of Indira Gandhi whose political demise was its major goal. Indira Gandhi on the other hand was preoccupied at this stage with the decline of her political support, especially through court cases against herself and her son which the Janata government seemed deter­ mined to pursue. When the Charan Singh-Chavan coalition failed to give her what she wanted and, more importantly, once she bad correctly assessed the growing desire of all alliance leaders for renewed stability, she withdrew her support within weeks of the coalition's formation. A parliamentary election was called. Rapid realignments began to occur in anticipation of the election, and these led in the end to massive victories for the Indira Congress. In Maharashlra, during the entire period preceding the dissolu­ tion of the state assembly in March 1980, Sharad Pawar's coalition government had not only survived but thrived. In fact his 'Parallel Congress' thrived by exploiting antagonisms between socialists and Jan Sangh components in the Janata Party. He established an elaborate, barely concealed network of patronage for his own supporters and was also poised to catch the wavering alliance leaders from the other Congress parties. In the zilla parishad elections, held finally in May 1979, his party decimated the parent Congress. Along with Indira's Congress, it came out a clear winner. Neither the Janata Party nor the other allied parties could make a

Preface xxxi dent in what was still a Congress fortress. Though now divided between three contending and feuding political parties, the Congress Party was still the preferred mode of competition for the hegemonic Maratha elite. Through the zilla parishad elections Sharad Pawar provided the first proof of his alliance strategy. By controlling the access to patronage he had kept the justly feared Jan Sangh element from penetrating rural Maharashtra. The dissident Congress component of the Janata Party had also been held in check. The socialists had to remain satisfied with small pockets of urban support. They were far more afraid of their intraparty allies than of Sharad Pawar's Congressmen and hence refused to leave the coalition in spite of complaints from some of their ranks. The Jan Sanghis would 'have probably been willing to ally with the other Congress parties in pursuit of power. However, in Maha­ rashtra they were undesirable allies because of Jan Sangh's image as the Brahmin party among the hegemonic Maratha elite. With Sharad Pawar's success in keeping the coalition in place, Chavan's support for his strategy became more and more overt. This and the debacle in the zilla parishad elections turned his one­ time associates into his determined enemies. Dada and Mohite now became fully convinced that the only prospect for substantial gains in access to power for their alliances was through a united Congress, even if it had to be under Indira Gandhi's leadership. Chavan had in their view abandoned even a pretext of neutrality and thus committed himself to Sharad Pawar's strategy. In mid­ August 1979 they rallied many Congress members of the parlia­ ment against Chavan's coalition with Charan Singh, and in late August they finally joined the Indira Congress en masse. All of them, including Shankarao, who was until then an uneasy colleague in Sharad's coalition cabinet, were given seats in the parliamentary elections and won from their own districts without difficulty. Consequently, in January 1980, the Sharad-Chavan alliance appeared on the verge of collapse. Out of twenty-four candidates only Chavan managed to get elected to parliament. This traumatic demonstration of Indira's power did not immediately dislodge the Janata-Congress coalition led by Sharad Pawar. In Maharashtra in the absence of a dominant agriculturist caste component such as Charan Singh's Lok Dal, Sharad Pawar, with his rural base, held on to a precarious balance between the Jan Sanghis and the socialists of the Janata Party. None of them was anxious to precipi­ tate a crisis from which only one of the Congresses would benefit. Finally, it was the members of Sharad's own alliance who became

xxxii Elite Pluralism and Class Rule uneasy. The preferred realignment of the Congress system with­ out Indira Gandhi as promised by Chavan had not materialized, despite major internal dissensions and defections in the Indira Congress. Mrs Gandhi's success in parliamentary elections and the migration of established Congress alliance leaders to her party seemed to make her leadership inevitable for a stable Congress system. Such a system alone could guarantee the level of stability necessary for pluralist politics. Perhaps even Sharad Pawar him­ self was beginning to see the wisdom of this logic. His close associates said so, and he did not seem to deny these claims. Chavan seems to have finaJly prevailed upon his protege by making clear the harm such moves would cause. To return to Indira Gandhi's Congress system without demonstrating the strength of one's own independent alliance base would prove suicidal, as Chavan knew from his own experience. He wanted Sharad Pawar and his other allies to stage a convincing demons­ tration of strength in the state elections. He stood against the strategy of alliances with other political parties. Chavan thus recognized that with the return of men like Dada, Mohite, and Shankarao, along with all their subordinate alliances, lndira's Congress had become the Congress system in Maharashtra. Having created that system in the sixties, Chavan knew that he could count on the logical preference of the rejected alliance leaders for the nearest 'Congress alternative,' while defying the official selection process. [I have discussed the various manifestations of this pre­ ference in chapter 5.] Many commentators saw no more than self­ deception in the Sharad-Chavan posture of autonomous challenge, but the results of the election seemed to prove the wisdom of their calculations. With the dissolution of the state assembly Sharad Pawar's alliance was removed from its direct access to patronage. After the defection of Dada, Mohite, Shankarao, and some of Sharad's associates, the balance in the control of the major political arenas (in co-operatives and in the panchayat ra1) had shifted decisively in favour of the Indira Congress. Consequently its election com­ mittees were flooded with applications for nomination in legislative elections. The more recent entrants to the party were also the more experienced and entrenched controllers of political arenas and strategists of pluralist politics. Those who had joined the party earlier and had remained in charge during the difficult period of powerlessness became uneasy with the possible loss of control over the party organization. A battle of sorts ensued between

Preface xxxiii protagonists of populism-centralism and pluralism, creating a widespread impression of internal conflict and a possible new wave of large-scale defections on the eve of the election. This, however, did not happen. The antagonisms and defections from the Chavan Congress had been too recent for it to become a fully viable alter­ native. Most of the major disgruntled alliance leaders, therefore, chose to act from within instead of staging open rebellions. Indira Gandhi must have been aware of their dilemma when she chose to defy men like Dada, Mohite, and Shankarao in the setting up of the PEC. The choice of members was portrayed by both sides as a frontal attack on the Maratha hegemony in the state. Through the manoeuvre Indira Gandhi hoped to cement and exploit once again the anti-Maratha strength in Vidharbha. She had no faith in the chief pluralists. They had once bargained hard for an important share in the party's power apparatus and had failed. There was no reason to believe that they would not shift their loyalties again if their dominant position was restored in the legislature. They were already in control of the other political arenas and had to be held in check. The CEC therefore chose to encourage their rivals, as far as possible. Having entered the party at a time and under conditions that left little room for decisive manoeuvres, the Maratha alliance leaders were quite helpless. Indira Gandhi was correct in assuming that the disgruntled pluralists would not at this stage attempt a massive and dramatic exit from the party. She also knew that such an exodus could have threatened her prospects, if at all, only in the regions of established Maratha hegemony. Although not all of their wishes came true, the surprising strength displayed by the Sharad-Chavan alliance in the final outcome indicate that their calculations were essentially correct. In Vidhar­ bha, lndira's Congress repeated its previous successful performance. Chavan in his Satara district and Sharad in Poona retained most of the seats for their alliance. Mohite's displeasure with the CEC obviously contributed to the loss of a constituency from which he had been elected consistently in the last six legislative elections. Debacles in Sangli and Kolhapur were probably averted through last-minute appeals to and bargaining with Dada. In Shankarao's district (Nanded) on the other hand the Sharad-Chavan Congress won nearly half the seats. Both in Western Maharashtra and Marathwada the pluralists made use of the various strategies of the 'rejects' and thus demonstrated their local stranglehold on arena politics. The beneficiary of these manoeuvres, as was correctly

xxxiv Elite Pluralism and Class Rule foreseen by it, was the Cbavan-Sharad alliance. In addition to the questions of nominations to the PEC and the selection of candidates, the issue of Maratha hegemony was brought into focus through speculations about the choice of the legislative party leader who would then become the chief minister. Several Maratha alliance leaders had their eyes set on the job, and jockeying had begun long before the elections. The Chavan-Sharad alliance argued openly and with some success that the populist-centralist strategists of the Indira Congress were bent upon ending the Maratha hegemony in state politics by selecting a non-Maratha leader. The subsequent appointment of Antulay, a Muslim, was anticipated and used to exploit the fears of the Maratha alliance leaders. Indira Gandhi cleverly avoided a precipitate confrontation by excluding Antulay's name from the legislative contest. With a massive mandate of her party in the new legislature, and having assessed the impact of the countermoves of the pluralists Indira Gandhi seemed to have decided to confront them with determined centralism. Their reaction to such an imposition remains to be seen. An outstanding feature of this interplay of pluralism, populism, and centralism of the political elites is the fate of Tirpude, an architect oflndira Gandhi's populist strategy. In Vidharbha Tirpude was almost single-handedly responsible for organizing the Indira Congress's victorious campaign. He was first rewarded with the organizational and legislative leadership of the party in 1978. Later attempts by Indira Gandhi to placate the pluralists brought him into conflict with her. In the end he was unceremoniously dismissed from the party. Tirpude had feared and hence opposed the forces of centralism in the party. His battles in favour of spon­ taneous local populism as against a centrally guided and orchestra­ ted interplay of pluralism and populism became a lost cause long before the new battle lines between centralists and pluralists were drawn on the eve of the state elections. Tirpude symbolized, once again, the plight of the low caste alliance leaders who try to defy dominant caste hegemony on their own. The temporary success of his strategy was made possible only by his ability to project a symbolic national leader with a capacity to transcend or at least by-pass the hegemonic elites. The lower castes could realistically attach their hopes and aspirations to such a symbol but not to local populists who obviously had little power for challenging hegemony on their own. The arrogance of the centralists stemmed from their firm knowledge of the limits and possibilities for mani-

Preface xxxv pulation of the social structure. The rulership strategies are the ways in which political elites respond to and manipulate the social structure. In India, both within and outside the Congress system, pluralism remains the preferred strategy for dominant caste elites. However excessive competition tends to destroy the preconditions of elite bargaining, so that the search for a supreme arbiter becomes a part of this strategy. Attempts to use an arbitrator to destroy pluralism meet with resistance and eventual failure. Centralism and populism can play a limited balancing role in this complex of strategies. They may at times accelerate policy outputs geared to more than marginal improvements in the life of the masses. Such improvements will be tolerated as long as they conform to the patriarchal and patri­ monial idioms of hegemonic caste elites. Attempts to alter these idioms and to radicalize demands for greater participation have been damaging in at least two ways. They have widened the distance between lower caste elites and masses, thus exposing the latter to greater direct coercion by dominant caste elites. Even more detri­ mental is the use of populism by the dominant caste elites to create solidarity with their own masses by mobilizing them against the scheduled castes. As long as the masses remain satisfied with small changes, democratic elite politics, described in the subsequent pages, will foster economic growth at home and allow national elite participa­ tion abroad in fashioning a stable world order. Political parties representing the interests of multiple elites from urban or rural ruling classes will continue to split, merge, or coalesce in their search for a stable and monopolized access to state power. Hege­ monic elites will alternately or jointly resort to pluralism, populism, or centralism. But none of these charades will contribute to subs­ tantive changes and to progress towards genuine development and democracy. In Maharashtra, at least, parties of the left have failed to counter these tendencies. They have taken sides between the pluralists and the centralists in the Congress Party as a price for participation in arena politics. Unable to develop a language that they can share with the masses, they become victims of the strategies of the ruling class and through them victimize the masses that they claim to speak for. Leaders of left parties usually share the modernist per­ spective of liberal intellectuals. For them masses have to be lifted out of their traditionalism through an appeal to their externally defined self-interest. They have failed to see, it seems to me, that

xxxvi Elite Pluralism and Oass Rule through this mindless pacification of the human subject innocent reformism and radical romanticism have turned into strategies of oppression. Whenever lower caste elites have attempted to raise their voices, hegemonic castes have responded with angry attacks on life and property. The state often seems unable or unwilling to control that anger. This preface aimed at showing that the political changes since 1977, which may appear to be substantial, have really done little to alter the basic structure of class rule discussed below. The rise of the Janata Party contributed to only a temporary disintegration of the Congress system. The return of the Congress system also does not mean change in class rule. In the meantime, attempts to mobilize the masses have only separated lower caste elites from their masses and united the elites of hegemonic castes with theirs. This is the contribution of the new strategy of populism. Whenever the lower caste elites attempt to challenge the hegemonic elite on the basis of local populism, the latter can successfully control and redirect populism through the concentration of power. In the light of these developments my plea for reinterpretation of tradition made towards the end of the book deserves to be reiterated. To avoid polarization of the masses from their more conscious elites, radical or reformist efforts must be directed towards a critique of the potent myths of patriarchalism and patrimonialisrn. Such a critique will have meaning only if it emerges from a reinterpretation of tradition that now serves, through perversion, to legitimize oppression. Passage to true democracy will have to occur through persistent efforts to build a language of action that contains released and liberating meanings of tradition as applied to everyday life. These meanings, developed through the critical dialogue and action of the masses, should unite leaders and masses rather than divide them. These meanings must also stand behind the act of understanding elite pluralism and overthrowing class rule.

Acknowledgments

In the long years between the first set of interviews and the publica­ tion of this book a number of people have contributed their labour in many ways. Most have to go unmentioned, and so I wish to express my gratitude to them collectively. Only a few, whose generosity I probably stretched to its limits at times, can be men­ tioned in this space. First of them is Dorothy Lele. After a year during which I had little time and less enthusiasm for the numerical data, which were becoming rapidly indecipherable through neglect, she rejuvenated them through laborious recoding and reanalysis. Although we share the understanding of the subjects whose responses consti­ tute the basis of this book, she alone, with statistical virtuosity and humane enthusiasm, gave that understanding a presentable form. Then there is Vasant Sirsikar, who hardly knew what he was getting into when he first offered to help. Not only did I get all the advice, assistance, and encouragement I asked for during the fieldwork, I also gained a lifelong friend. Several friends and colleagues read the earlier drafts. Those from whose critical appreciation and previous work I have learnt the most are Don Attwood, Ram Bapat, K.R. Bhoite, A.R. Kamat, Donald Rosenthal, and Eleanor Zelliot. My friends here at Queen's, Mohammed Fayyaz, Friedrich Sixel, and Bin-ky Tan, shared with me my struggle to make sense of Indian politics in the world context. Uttam Bhoite joined me meticulously in the painful stages of proof­ reading and indexing. He also enriched the preface through his critical firsthand knowledge of Maratha society and politics. Of the many persons who typed the various parts of the drafts the one who saw it, and me, through the most difficult times, is Joan Westenhaefer. R.I.K. Davidson and Lawrence MacDonald

xxxviii Elite Pluralism and Class Rule at University of Toronto Press and Ramdas Bhatkal and R.N. Gokarn at Popular Prakashan finally took it through the publica­ tion stage with patience and good humour. This work became possible by means of grants from the Canada Council, the Agricultural Development Council, New York, Queen's Research Committee, the Indian Social Science Research Council, a generously sparing visiting professorship at the Center for International Studies, Cornell University, and another year of friendship and comfort at the University of Poona. This book has been published with the help of grants from the Social Science Federation of Canada, using funds provided by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, and from the Publications Fund of University of Toronto Press.

1

Introduction

A massive amount of scholarly work has been· done on politics in India. The diversity of Indian social life and its manifestations in democratic processes have intrigued observers for many years. Some effort has gone into developing comprehensive models or theories, but most has been devoted to describing specific aspects of politics in meticulous detail. Significant linguistic, ethnic, regional, and socioeconomic variations have needed separate treatment, and specific regions, political parties, movements, events, and personalities have been studied. A great deal of this work has been done by American scholars who subscribe to principles of 'behavioural' analysis. Even Indian and European political scientists have adopted behavioural strategies in their studies of Indian politics. Probability sample surveys, panels of informants, and case studies of electoral and decision-making behaviour have been used, accompanied by a barrage of interpretative statistical techniques. The ensuing interpretations have tended to treat many old and emerging social structures as acting politically like interest groups in American society. There are, of course, major variations, and behavioural studies have indeed uncovered them. Nevertheless an identifiable image of Indian politics has emerged from behavioural analysis, however blurred by specific variations and details. This image is pluralist. Indian politics is seen to be developing in the direction of a full-fledged pluralist democracy. For many, of course, that is the only kind of democracy possible. The imper­ fections of the Indian landscape are usually explained as a matter of underdevelopment. The history of America and Europe is adduced to show that the infant democracy' in India is growing along the right path. This pluralist account of Indian democracy

2 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule was preceded by a series of others that one after another had denied the viability of democracy on the subcontinent. For example. it was claimed that the British had left behind a highly trained, responsible, and disciplined 'steel frame' in the civil service. Poli­ ticians' inroads into its neutrality were expected to crack and vitiate it. A little later the persistence of stability was attributed to Nehru's 'charisma,' and scholars, journalists, and ordinary India watchers had a field day with a guessing game called 'After Nehru, who and what?' Then came explanations of the dominance of the Congress Party. The split in the party was expected to usher in the era of chaos. By 1972, although the prophets of gloom had not been completely silenced, their voices had become muted. Indian democracy had survived all predicted and unpredicted crises, including a three-year spell of bad monsoons in the early 1970s, although the events of 1975 once again revived the black forecasts. 1 It is obvious that underlying these interpretations was a concep­ tion of democracy as a delicate plant that needs the nurture and protection available only in countries with a long tradition of freedom and modernity. Even pluralists who seem to be convinced of the viability of democratic politics in India indirectly share this view. While they search for structures within the Indian tradition that resemble those in the United States, they attribute the imperfections to underdevelopment. THE PLURALIST MODEL AND ITS CRITIQUE

The structures and processes characterizing pluralist democracy have been discussed in great detail in the literature on political sociology in North America. 1n this study only the salient features of the theory and practice of pluralism and their relevance for India are examined. 2 Briefly, the pi uralist model of American democracy assumes a relatively high level of consensus within the population on the nature of the political system as it exists and on the existing procedures for any desired modifications in it (Dahl, 1967, 330-1 ). The quality of this consensus among the citizens is largely that of apathetic non-involvement rather than active or conscious vigilance for its protection (McClosky, 1964). The mobilization of the population is sporadic, takes place through groups representing specific interests, and is directed towards claims on collective resources of the society. Politics is maintained as an open, ongoing arena for bargaining in which the rules of the game are specified, clearly understood, and strictly adhered to

Introduction 3 by the participants. Given the competitive character and the relative autonomy of the groups, the elites within these groups and in the governmental arena are constantly aware of the danger of over­ throw by countervailing groups or dissatisfied constitutents. The bargainers, therefore, bargain on behalf of the people they represent and are responsive to the needs and the demands of the population (Dahl, 1963, 302-12). Elections constitute both a legitimating mechanism for the system as a whole and a check on the per­ formance of the political leaders. 3 The political elite, in other words, anticipates various pressures and makes bargaining easy. Its basic concern is the maintenance of a stable, consensual order so that the struggle over interests and ruling positions is facilitated with minimum force and maximal consensus {Lipset, 1960; also Walker, 1966). A pluralist democracy is primarily a system of government in which parts of the elite, representing a variety of interests, bargain for control over society's resources through public policy. The political arena is the arena for elite bargaining. The elite, in turn, is not an ideologically unified minority but a heterogeneous group of accountable and responsive leaders concerned with maintaining some correspondence between individual wills and collective decisions. American politics in general does conform to the concept of an arena for interest bargaining by the elite. This conception, like the notion of an uninformed and consensual population, is based on sophisticated empirical analyses of survey data and case studies of decision-making. The criticisms of the pluralist model do not stem from a dissatisfaction with its descriptive power; they are directed primarily against the prescriptive and evaluative conclusions derived from it. For example, while the existence of a multiplicity of interest groups and an often overlapping member­ ship is granted, the conclusion that the elite does not constitute a continuing, limited, and self-conscious stratum is questioned. In the most influential interest groups and associations the internal government hardly resembles the pluralist image of open discourse. bargaining, and decision-making (McConnell, 1966; Sevrin, 1972). Furthermore, a substantial part of American politics is seen to have come under the influence of narrowly based and largely autonomous bargaining elites (McConnell, 1966, 339; Mills, 1959: Dahl and Lindblom, 1963, 498). Interest in the stability and legi­ timacy of the system is seen to rest primarily within the ruling elite (McClosky, 1964). The tendency for the bargaining arena to remain confined to the more privileged strata of the society, noted

4 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule also, has been shown to result from the concentration of the resources required for entry into the arena in the hands of a few major groups. 4 Attacks on pluralism have also come from those who disapprove of the notion of democracy as a balance of forces of self-interest supported by a majority of apathetic spectators. To these critics the democratic dream consists of political equality. Genuine opportunities for citizens to reassess the forms and substance of decision-making are to be realized through widespread discussion and participation in various types of activities including the political (Duncan and Lukes, 1963). This classical democratic vision of maximum freedom and full release of human potential is violated by the pluralists' insistence that organized political activity take place solely for interest bargaining. The tendency to consider ritualistic participation by citizens in periodical elections as 'functional' has also been criticized. 5 The pluralist response to these questions takes the form of an apology. In large and complex societies political equality can only take the form of equality of opportunity (Parsons, 1969). The pros­ pects for creating organized collectivities are to be extended to sectors on the margins of the existing pluralist competition. In theory this opportunity already exists. Thus in the United States the poor, the black, the women, and the consumers are exhorted to organize. Equality of the vote is expected to guarantee results through the creation of cartels, monopolies, or vote banks. Over a period of time, it is hoped, if more and more groups become organized along the lines of interest demands the rewards of the system will continue to trickle down to those currently excluded from the pluralist universe. This optimism is expressed even after recognizing the tendency for handicaps and advantages to be cumulative in advanced industrial societies (Dahl, 1970, 109). Support is sought in the European experience, where inequali­ ties of income and wealth declined as a result of the democratic process during the period of capitalist economic expansion. In recent years it has become increasingly clear that there exist structural barriers which the pluralist system is incapable of over­ coming in order to allow the percolation of rewards to all sectors of society. It should be noted, however, that in the advanced industrial societies these sectors do not represent the mass of population and hence should not be equated with social classes in a state of exploitation, in the sense that the system scarcely lives off their labour. But their continued pauperization and disfranchise-

Introduction 5 ment should serve as a warning against the pluralist optimism about the diffusion of rewards in developing societies. Even in advanced industrial societies the rapid rise in incomes for most sectors of society appears to have obscured the fact that the structure of rank and privilege has remained relatively unchanged. In light of this evidence, the validity of the percolation thesis, which takes competitive elite bargaining as its basis, becomes questionable. It is undeniable, however, that during the period of liberal capitalist expansion democracy as the ideological super­ structure of the rising bourgeoisie did in fact work towards changing the standard of life for the wage-earners in Europe (Strachey, 1956). It was assisted by the rapid development of the forces of production in satisfying the necessary as well as superfluous needs of the general population (Galbraith, 1969). The persistent pockets of deprivation in the affluent society al least show that there is no inherent logic of democracy facilitating dispersion of rewards. This question is of obvious importance in dealing with developing societies characterized by low growth rates. Even more important is the rapid decline in the quality of human life in societies under advanced capitalism with corresponding pluralist political systems. Growing affluence in advanced capitalist societies has been accompanied by the decreased importance of all but technical considerations in political decision-making. Questions of the good and just life, which once belonged legitimately in the area of democratic dialogue, have been subsumed by the infinite possibility and desirability of material progress. The latter supports a popular belief in the justness of a 'scientific' civilization and has become the source of acclamation and legitimation of an emerging technocratic elite. 6 PLURALIST DEMOCRACY IN INDIA

None of these doubts, reflections, and criticisms about the coexis­ tence of pluralist democracy, elitist decision-making, apathetic popular consensus, and the separation of ethical and technical issues in human life have found their way into the analysis oflndian politics. It seems to be assumed that concern about the irrationality of industrial democracy is a luxury that a poor and underdeveloped society like India can afford only after it arrives at the industrial stage. This evolutionist demand for a strict separation and sequential treatment of the development process ignores some basic rational considerations. If the pluralist model of democracy is to be applied

6 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule to India it must receive scrutiny in both its American and its Indian manifestations based on each experience. If Third World countries must follow all the major steps of the West towards industrialization (either capitalist or socialist), then the ultimate destination itself must be examined in the light of the experiences of both modern and traditional societies. In ignoring the evidence of a continuing separation of elite activity from popular participation in the Western democracies, pluralists apply an ideologically determined model to the Indian context. They seek associations and interest groups that can manifest what they consider to be the growing 'rational' orientation of the citizens towards the polity. In the electoral system, in various traditional groupings such as castes, and in political parties they seek evidence of a growing orientation towards the government as an arena for interest bargaining. They interpret electoral fluctua­ tions and the internal factionalism of the Congress Party as signs of growing demands by the citizens and an increasing responsiveness of the political elite. They search for evidence of the articulation of demands and for the expression of contingent support by citizens and organized interests. 7 ParaJlels between the pluralist vision and the Indian reality are not obvious. On the surface India is a continent with a nearly unfathomable diversity of languages, sects, castes, religions, regions, and cultures. Its population appears mired in traditional super­ sititions and prejudices and incapable of involvement in conscious, interest-based activity through organized groups. Its citizenry, largely illiterate and rural, seems incapable of articulating dis­ satisfaction with the ruling elite. Indians appear susceptible to passionate appeals, linguistic, regional, ethnic, and religious, lead­ ing to outbursts of anger and violence. In short, India looks like a backward country where chaos, disintegration, force, and instability must rule. 8 In contrast to this surface image of Indian society, Indian politics since independence seems unusually stable and sophisticated. The federal democratic form of government has operated success­ fully for over twenty-five years. Elections, held regularly and at all levels of government, are open and free. The voter turnout is comparable to that in all the Western democracies. Voters appear to discriminate between parties and candidates. The Congress Party, in spite of its long history and consequent predominance, does not receive on average more than half of the total ballots. The electorate surprises sophisticated pollsters and politicians by

Introduction 7 rejecting old favourites and electing an occasional neophyte just as it does in societies with a long democratic tradition. Presented with such a paradox it is hardly surprising that serious political scientists of the behavioural school have applied advanced techniques and ingenuity in seeking an explanation for the stability of the political system in India. They have sought organized interests in 'caste associations,' 'opposition parties of pressure,' and intra­ Congress factions (Weiner. 1962; Rudolph and Rudolph, 1967; Kothari, 1964, 1970a; Franda 1971: Das Gupta, 1970; Nayar, 1966; as well as most studies of state politics dealing with regional and linguistic groups). Kothari, for example, treats the Congress Party itself as a 'functional equivalent' of a pluralist system of bargaining, compromising, conflict-resolving, and decision-making. In the absence of a well-organized opposition (as in a two-party system) the Congress Party is claimed to have permitted open competition from within between the forces of the left and the right. The eventual articulation of interests is expected to lead to the creation of two major parties (or coalitions) representing vaguely polarized leftist and rightist dimensions. The ultimate outcome of such development, implicitly, is an output system characterized by midstream, centrist decisions. 9 The analysis of groups focuses on the phenomenon of caste. It is asserted that castes are not using politics any more; instead 'it is the latter which uses the former and even changes in the process' (Kothari, 1967, 265; also Bhatt, 1963). Individuals, it is argued, are now competing for power in an open polity and looking for new sources of support. creating groups and loyalties on new and varied bases. Corresponding to this presumed rise in interest­ group activity, pluralists have looked for and found a new secular identification and commitment among voters. This new and grow­ ing rationality is said to cut across traditional, primordial relation­ ships and to provide a new linkage with secular authority. A rapid rise in 'party identification' has also been noted (Kothari, 1967, 1970; Eldersveld, 1970). Since the notions of growing interest­ group activity and rising secular orientation of voters constitute the bases of the pluralist analysis, we shaJI later examine them in detail in the light of both the evidence adduced in their support and our own findings with respect to Maharashtra. It may be noted here that pluralist analysis suffers from deficiencies similar to those pointed out by critical theorists in the West. For example. the percolation thesis of political rewards guides the pluralist vision of the political structure in India. In this vision

8 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule there exists at the top a responsive and progressive modernizing elite committed to the goal of rapid national development. As part of its value system and its strategy this elite has accepted the demo­ cratic form of government. In the middle the vested interests of tradition are slowly, under the pressure of elite manipulation, yielding place to modern interest groups. At the bottom is the slowly but increasingly conscious, issue-oriented, and partisan electorate. If the government is going to lead the development process, it must enlist not only popular support but also popular energy behind its efforts. Active public participation, a 'ferment from below', must accompany the 'pressure from above' (Field, 1972). In this view of political mobilization the ferment from below is to be generated and carefully moderated by the modernizing elite. It is expected to result in greater legitimation of the modernizing elite and not in a challenge from the alienated or dissatisfied masses or from the vested traditional interests. Although initially the benefits from democratic development are reaped by the traditionally dominant elite, no doubts are raised about the ultimate percolation effect. The percolation thesis also assumes a resistant rural mass of undifferentiated peasants whose carefully moderated mobilization into electoral and partisan politics will automatically make them demand a greater share in the benefits derived from the process of development. While pluralist analysis may well ignore as marginal the barriers faced by the disadvantaged groups in the industrial societies, such a disadvantaged section forms the majority of the rural population in India. Nor is the rural social structure in India amenable to the assumptions of an undifferentiated, immobile mass of peasants. The structural barriers to percolation of rewards are much more complex and impenetrable than the pluralists are willing to recognize. The claim that the ruling elite seeks to involve the entire popula­ tion as partners in the process of development is even more doubtful. So also is the assumption that overlapping interest groups are replacing traditional vested interests. Various programs of decen­ tralization of development administration have been interpreted as evidence of percolation of rewards to lower levels through a ferment from below. There is no evidence to support the assumed disjunction between the modernizing elites in the central and state governments and the rural elite. It is naive to assume, therefore, that those who are demanding greater access to governmental resources through 'democratic decentralization' are representatives of the mass of rural peasantry (Lele, 1966).

Introduction 9 Our analysis of the pluralist model and its application to India underscores their common assumption. Democratic development is construed as a sequential evolutionary process with clearly identifiable stages. The pluralist faith in the percolation thesis derives from the European experience of early capitalist expansion and the concurrent development of democratic institutions. Many American pluralists, when confronted with the challenges to their own established institutions in the sixties, came to accept some of the limitations of their analysis (e.g. Dahl, 1970; Binder et al., 1971). Similar acceptance in the Indian context is hindered because there exists the escape route of underdevelopment. The system's inability to generate rapid growth and redistribution of resources can be conveniently blamed on the early stages of economic and political development. The self-analysis of American pluralism also suffers from what could be called a truncated view of the evolutionary process of development. In its simplest form it treats the democratic associa­ tion as one of the latest to arrive in a sequence of 'evolutionary universals' . 10 Dahl, for example, concludes that, in relative terms, polyarchies are 'incomparably closer to genuine rule by the people' and 'much more humane, decent, benign and responsive' (1970, 145). The structure of polity is thus isolated from a discussion of human values and goals simply by comparing it with past and present alternative modes of sociopolitical organization. Critical sociological thought questions the adequacy of the structures and organizations in advanced capitalist societies and challenges some of their assumptions about democracy. It shows that formal democratic institutions and procedures permit adminis­ trative decisions to be made largely independently of reflection on the practical life-world of the citizens. The legitimation processes elicit only geheralized motives and diffuse mass loyalty but forbid participation (Habermas, 1973). The presumed efficient and effective interaction between the citizen's will and collective decision­ making in democratic societies does not exist. The legitimation of the rulers' right to rule is not predicated on their vigilant sensitivity to the normatively guided motives of the citizens. Instead, it rests on their ability to steer and manage the mechanisms of periodic affirmation of authority. TRADITION AND MODERNITY

When the prospects for pluralist democracy are thus placed in a

I 0 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule comparative perspective they seem to hinge not on the evolutionary axis of tradition and modernity but on the question of legitimacy of the rulers in various societies. In post-Enlightenment social and political thought in the West the notions of modernity and legitimacy of authority have become interlinked. This at least partially explains why the literature on political development separates the questions of legitimacy in developing and in modern states (Nash. 1970). Modernity in this thought is equated with the institutional change brought about by the extension of rational action, Zweckrational action for Weber (I 968, 24-30). A range of paired concepts (status-contract. Gemeinschaft-Gesel/schaft, mecha­ nical-organic solidarity. informal-formal group, culture-civilization, traditional-bureaucratic authority, sacred-secular society, status­ class) that emerged in early capitalist Europe tried to grasp the structural changes that followed the overthrow of feudal society (Habermas. 1970. 90-1). These dichotomies quite clearly illustrate a premise of post-Enlightenment thought, that Western civilization had witnessed a total and irreversible break from tradition. These and many subsequent analyses assume that traditional society is characterized by a central world-view based on myth and religion which legitimatcs political power. Power is thus converted into authority. 11 The institutional framework of tradi­ tional societies is grounded in the unquestioned legitimation of mythical, religious, and metaphysical interpretations of reality. These societies do, of course, have spheres of economic activity. Technical rationality (Zweckrational action) brings about the structural changes necessary for the production of surplus. They do not affect the general interpretations of reality. These inter­ pretations stem from the institutional framework, the superiority of which remains unquestioned. The political systems receive their legitimation directly from tradition and therefore are not subject to questions that may arise from the differentiation of economic activity. The latter also remains circumscribed by the limits of tradition, unable to grow enough to threaten traditional authority (Habermas. 1970, 90-6). Both Marx and Weber (and their later followers in the fields of sociology and politics) saw a fundamental break in the forms of legitimation of political power with the advent of the capitalist mode of production. Traditional legitimation of rulers, based on a universal religious and social world-view, was associated with the communal origin of the political function. Marx, for example, saw the villages in India as dispersed communities with the despot

Introduction 11 appearing as the father of them all. The unity of this society was given by its communal origin, which the despot symbolized. For Marx, 'it therefore follows that the surplus product belongs to this highest unity'. It was a tribute to the glory of the unity partly symbolized by the person of the despot and partly by the imagined entity of the god whose legitimizing powers were beyond question (Marx, 1972). For Weber also traditional authority signified a legitimation of rulers that rested on an 'established belief in the sanctity of imme­ morial traditions'. The position of the ruler is thus assumed to be traditionally sanctioned and the ruler occupying that position bound by tradition. The communal origin of the political function thus introduced invariable constraints on the uses of authoritative positions by traditional rulers. In its simplest form traditional authority is based on personal loyalty to the ruler, who is obeyed because of the total belief in traditions which define the rulership status. Innovations in the relationships between the ruler and the ruled have to be either justified under traditional beliefs or relegated to the limited sphere of discretion. Weber was keenly aware of the variations in concrete cases and hence developed a detailed typology of traditional authority. However, as the essential aspect of all traditional authority, he emphasized the consensual community (1968, 215-16, 226-35, 1011-22). Based on historical knowledge of pre-capitalist Europe and on secondary reports of European writers on Asia, this emphasis on the solidarity of the kinship group and its inevitable extension to the political authority is not surprising (Bloch, 1961 ; Morgan 1964). Marx's theory of the Asiatic mode of production and Weber's understanding of traditional authority led them to underplay the importance of their own crucial insights into the problems of legitimation. LEGITIMATION AND MARX

In his discussion of the variations of the state in pre-capitalist societies Marx starts with their common origin in pre-settlement, pre-agricultural tribal property. The latter originates in the capacity of human groups to possess land. This, of course, requires a prior group cohesion, an organization. The principle of this organization is primary role relationship, based on age and sex, within the kinship system. The tribal social life is institutionalized within the framework of kinship, and a tribe can usually be characterized

12 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule as a large extended kin group. The rela lion of memhers to the land signifies their fullest social identification. This, in other words, is a society from which the state has not emerged as a distinct entity. The emergent complex societies which follow. especially the Asiatic Society under despotism and the Classical Polis, retain. according to Marx, the tribal communal property into the agri­ cultural stage. These are not the communistic societies of the tribal variety, however. Stratification has appeared and the economic surplus of direct producers is appropriated by either the despot (whom Marx describes as the symbol of the total society) or by the urban patriciate of landowners as in the Classical Polis. In each case the basic type of property is identical; it is the communal form of property. The difference, however, lies in the fact that at the primitive stage of society there exists little motivation to produce more than what is necessary to satisfy the basic needs. With Asiatic and Classical societies we enter an era of surplus and its appropria­ tion by those who are not the direct producers. The state arises. in other words, simultaneously with the surplus and with the class of non-producers. In this conceptualization of state and society is embedded the basic problem of legitimation of political power. This is, in effect, Marx's answer to the questions: why legitimation and how to secure it? The answer, as a simplification of Marx, would be that under a mode of production in which the means are communally owned the appropriation of surplus production by an individual or a group is antithetical to the very social nature of human organization; consequently legitimation of such an appropriation must appear in the form of a communal identity or communal function. Thus one learns from Marx that the despot, in the Asiatic pattern, appears as the father of the many communities and that the surplus product belongs to him as if he were the symbol of the inherently supreme unity. In classical antiquity the notion of the community of land­ owners justifies exclusion of the direct producers (i.e., the slaves) and monopolization of political power by a class of non-producers. Marx's own emphasis, in his study of pre-capitalist forms of economy, was on showing the movement towards individualization of man and privatization of the property whose origins are com­ munal. He was much less concerned with the specific forms which the process had taken. These specific forms are, in fact, the various ways in which the privatization of communal property was legiti­ mized. They had one thing in common. All the legitimation claims were made in the name of the community as a whole. The early

Introduction 13 agricultural soc1et1es, which still retained communal property in name, had differentiated out of the kinship system. The idea of the despot as the patriarch in Asia and that of the urban patri­ ciate of the citizens in Greece became legitimating myths for the privatization of the socially produced surplus of the direct producers. The conquered slaves of foreign wars in one case and the conquered local populations in the other were 'defined out' as non-members of the community, as Anthropodons in Greek cities and as 'outcasts' in rural India. 12 In these and other class-based societies which followed, the ruling classes that appropriated the social surplus claimed their right to rule in the name and the interest of the social community. Challenges to these justifications often arose from within the community, since these claims were often based on fundamental contradictions. 13 Under capitalism the obvious and immediate domination by a conscious ruling class disappeared behind the cloaks of legal institutions including that of private property. The state was ideologically defined as a protector, not of the specific interests of the bourgeoisie but of 'just exchange', in which the property-owners exchanged commodities for the labour-power of the propertyless. The justice of this exchange was to be guaranteed not by tradition but by the reciprocity of rational, atomized indi­ viduals. For Marx, therefore, the legal relations as well as the constitutional state were to be understood in terms of the real economic relations between the classes (Marx and Engels, 1968, 181-224). This analysis assumes a level of atomistic individualization in industrial societies such that the legitimation of political authority derives directly from domination in the sphere of production. Each individual exchanges his labour for other commodities in a system of exchange. The state is bureaucratized and acquires a high level of impersonality. Its existence and functions are justified as necessary for maintaining the relations of production. This is how the development of liberal capitalism was seen and analysed by Marx. Such high levels of individuation were not attained by the industrial societies either during or after the lifetime of Marx. It is also clear that Marx encountered his greatest theoretical difficulties with what he saw as the anomalies of the state in both Britain and France. Since civil society as capitalist society was seen as common to all Europe, he found it difficult to ignore the problem of the variability of the state. Marx encountered similar problems with nationalism. His analysis of trends in the emerging

14 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule capitalist system of production and the constitutive elements of bourgeois society continues to inspire innovative critiques of the crisis of advanced capitalism. However Marx's tendency, per­ petuated by later Marxist analyses, to relegate the state to an epiphenomenon presents serious difficulties in understanding nationalism as a legitimizing ideology in emerging bourgeois society. The traditional symbols of legitimation did not lose their effectiveness under capitalism (Marx and Engels, 1968, 252-73, 315-35). The ruling class uses the state to assert its domination in a variety of ways. It not only claims the right to control the economic resources of society but locates this right within the cultural tradi­ tion and order of the community, thus claiming for itself the cultural leadership of society. It is able, as a consequence of this recognized leadership, to choose from the cultural order elements it considers salient, interpreting them in the practical context of collective decisions and actions. Such hegemony allows the rulers to form alliances with subordinate classes or groups on its own terms in the interest of preserving its domination. The functioning of the state in all societies can be seen, therefore, as the conscious activity of the ruling elites as cultural and political leaders of societies. In this sense the ruling classes are 'hegemonic' in all class-based societies (Gramsci, 1971 ). Those who fail to make this important modification to Marxist theory face major problems in applying Marxian insights to any period of human history. Analysis of the pre-capitalist period which assumes the superiority of tradition misses the rich variety of legitimating strategies involving cultural and political alliances of the rulers. Challenges to the legitimating elements of culture arise in all societies and lead to modifications, new alliances, or the overthrow of the ruling elite regardless of specific economic condi­ tions. A study of these challenges points to the continuity of the human capacity to apprehend the contradictions in the cultural order and to act on them. While the source of these legitimations, their contradictions, and the challenges is firmly located in the relations of productions, their variations need not be. These varia­ tions in turn can have a significant impact on the development of specific economic relations. 14 A deterministic economic model encounters similar problems in dealing with societies that are not fully capitalistic but are part of the modem world. Most of these societies have political structures developed during periods of colonialism and imperialism. They

Introduction 15 are by no means clumsy imitations of industrial models, democratic or socialist. However, they are involved in complex interactions with industrial societies with consequent impact on the composi­ tion of the ruling class and its legitimation. In deterministic models, societies like the Indian or the Chinese are unjustifiably treated as stages in an evolutionary sequence drawn from the history of industrial societies, stages that often relegate crucial variables to inconsequence. The elites in these societies are assumed to have no problems of legitimacy because they are traditional. Alter­ natively, where they do have such problems, these are explained as resulting from the fact that the elites are upstarts, urban or Western­ educated intellectuals, and hence without traditional legitimation. Both of these assumptions appear to be simplistic and contrary to the facts. Models of a neocolonial economy and its integrated political elite help explain the significance of the colonial experience to some specific sectors of the economy. They either ignore or do not succeed in explaining the growth in influence of the middle class farmers (see, for example, Rhodes, 1970). The government is often portrayed in these analyses as simply a compromise between big business and big landlords whose links with the international money and commodity market are visible (Baran, 1969). Whereas the non-Marxist view of political development in the Third World is generally ahistorical, the orthodox Marxist view tends to under­ play the contemporary political reality in favour of a historically derived role of imperialist and capitalist exploitation. In both cases countries with mixed economies are treated as mere stages in the evolution of world capitalism or democracy. Evolutionary perspectives of tradition and modernity by themselves also fail to account for the increasing privatization of decision-making in advanced industrial societies. Stripped of its connotations of tradi­ tion and modernity, the essential insight of Marx remains valid. The rulers' quest for legitimacy is not a problem specific to the bourgeois state but common to all surplus-producing societies in which the social surplus is appropriated by a ruling class. As noted earlier, privilege, a combination of wealth, power, and social rank, tends to be cumulative even in advanced industrial societies. The institution of private property ensures that this unequal distribution is considered legitimate. To be able to enter the arena for bargaining, a group of individuals must possess a massive array of such resources (Baskin, 1970, 74-5). The con­ centration of these resources makes the contours of the ruling

16 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule classes in the United States more and more identifiable (Sweezy, 1973). Pluralist democracy, wherever it functions, operates within the context of a relatively privileged class of elites. The tendency of pluralist democracy is to cumulate privilege rather than re­ distribute it to ever widening sectors of the population. In other words, the pluralist model of democracy works both in India and in the United States, but not for the reasons that pluralist scholars are prone to assume. In reality, pluralism serves as an important ruling class strategy for the exclusion of other sectors from access to public resources except on terms set by and acceptable to the elite. Our focus on the separation of the public and the private spheres, following Marx, forces us to look back in history to the stages of pre-capitalist economic formations and their associated legitimat­ ing ideologies. It also sheds new light on the viability of formal democracies under advanced capitalism reinstating the concepts of legitimation and ideology as valid for all societies generating a surplus product. Analysis of contemporary and historical societies along these two dimensions is scarce. Its progress is hampered by a belief, shared by contemporary social scientists, in a critical break between pre-capitalist and later sociopolitical orders. The derivative concepts of tradition and modernity seem to pose more problems than they can solve. On the other hand the distinction between the public and the private spheres of life in societies helps raise relevant questions about the relationship between politics and society at various stages of economic development. In all societies beyond the tribal stage, distinct identifiable units such as kinship and class develop their own needs and interests and seek satisfaction. Although the related activities are social, they are not identical with those involving decisions of allocation of the surplus product of the society. The latter activities are characterized by domination ( Herrschaft) (Weber, 1968, 941-55). Domination involves demanding a certain set of conducts and receiving obedience from the members. In all societies it is this domination in the public sphere which requires legitimation. Either the rulers may claim to embody, represent, or be responsive to the community, or they may claim to be merely the servants of the community. They may even enter into temporary alliances with the subordinate classes and choose appropriate elements of the cultural order to create, dismantle, or justify such alliances. However, as long as their actions and decisions, claimed to be based on the community's goals and values, are taken under conditions of domination, they

Introduction 17 are not truly communal, open to free discourse and doubt by the community as a whole. Conditions of domination forbid this necessary institutionalization of doubt for a truly communal action. A dialogue on the normative validity of these claims between the members of the community as equals cannot take place without institutional safeguards. In their absence, chaJlenges to legitimation take the form of uninstitutionalized conduct. The ruling classes seek either to suppress or to mystify such actions based on doubt. In emerging bourgeois society, the democratic ideal claimed to institutionalize doubt so that the communal goals and values could be scrutinized. Whereas the private sphere was characterized by the ego-focal interests of the individuated members, the public sphere of democratic institutions was to be an ennobling experience for the citizens. In their public manifestations the ego-focal indi­ viduals of the civil society were to constitute a community of critical, restless, and dissatisfied citizens (Duncan and Lukes, 1963). Unfortunately, in both its Greek and its bourgeois manifestations democracy rested on the exclusion of the direct producers. In the claims to moral self-negation of a bourgeois citizen Marx clearly saw the falsity of a dual existence. If the class of direct producers were allowed to participate in these intended avenues of institu­ tionalized doubt, Marx rightly observed, it would spell an end to the capitalist economy and bourgeois society, 1 5 unless of course such an inclusion was accompanied by the separation of the sub­ stantive content from the instrumental aspects of communal decision-making. In the advanced stages of capitalism this separation becomes a reality. Democracy is given a new meaning. It combines civil privatism with a periodic affirmation of a system which ensures stable fulfilment of the ego-focal interests of the individuated members. Decision-making on substantive communal goals becomes more and more privatized in the name of complexity. Science and technology, sustained by the primacy of ego-focal goals of material progress, become the new legitimating strategies of the elite, combining easily with the new democracy defined in terms of the responsiveness of the elite, apathy as the measure of satisfaction, and a formalistic openness of the arena to aU interests. The effects of this combination can be seen in the public squalor that accompanies increasing levels of private affluence. Systems of public transportation, public utilities, public educational systems, and general welfare programs face constant neglect and scarcity in the midst of private abundance and waste (O'Neil,

18 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule 1968). The ego-foca1ity of the 'modern' man, characterized by a purposive-rationality that enshrines the control of nature, helped the rapid expansion of the capitalist economy. It also helped sup­ press the fundamental class antagonisms under a system of managed conflicts in the form of collective bargaining (Goldthorpe et al., 1969). The privatization of the public sphere was accomplished under both liberal and pluralist democracies by minimizing the claims of all vaJues other than the infinite pursuit of material progress. Ethics was permanently divorced from politics. The goal of rapid economic growth is now accepted as a creed by the rulers in the developing societies. Along with other situation­ specific reasons, the exclusion of the population from communal decision-making is practised on the unchallenged assumption that development goals are beyond the domain of discussion. The complexity of the modernization process is also used as an excuse. The formal structure of democracy can coexist in a society with increasing privatization of decisions, as it does in the advanced capitalist societies. 16 A ruling class conscious of its right to rule and a population that accepts this right as legitimate are the onJy requisites of a pluralist democracy. How the privatization is actually legitimized depends on the specific institutional and economic contexts of a given society. ln other words, it is a matter of choosing the appropriate strategies of rulership. STRATEGIES OF RULERSHIP AND WEBER

Weber uses tradition, charisma, and bureaucracy as the pure types of legitimation of domination. Seen from the perspective of the rulers, these become rulership strategies. ln dealing with the dilem­ mas of the traditional ruler, Weber shows how the sources of legitimation are put to a strategic use. In this case, at least, Weber does not see them as evolutionary or mutually exclusive (Mom­ msen, 1965). Rather than being treated as given and hence as limitations on the authority of the rulers, these modes are viewed as manipulative strategies for excluding a11 other strata from a share of privilege derived from the public office. The justification of this exclusion, if pure mercenary force is not to be continually resorted to, must rest on a real or mythical consensual community. 17 The specific rulership strategies in democratic societies have been the patriarchal, the patrimonial, the personal, and the bureau­ cratic. The first three sources of legitimation were associated by Weber with traditional societies and the fourth with modern

Introduction 19 society. In the pure form of patriarchalism there are no legal limits to domination. The roots are in the authority over the kinship unit, and the compliance of those subjected to authority is on the basis of norms derived from tradition. The arbitrary violation of custom by the ruler would evoke the subjects' dissatisfaction and disapprobation. This gave an effective protection to the ruled. The ultimate power was the power of tradition (Weber, 1968, 1008). In its pure form patriarchialism demands from the subject piety towards the master and towards tradition. Since it evolves out of kinship authority control of the means of production is initially in the hands of the patriarch. The important 'strategic' feature of a patriarchal rule, therefore, is the emphasis placed on custom and tradition. It is coupled with a minimization, in overt interaction and rhetoric, of the coercive sanctions for violations. In patrimonial rule on the other hand the subjects include not only those given kinship status but also a number of service groups. The exploitative power of the ruler depends entirely upon effective control over the means of production. However, emphasis is still on the consensual community, whose symbols may be found in traditional village assemblies, common grazing lands, a system of land rents, or ritual participation by the subjects in the religious events in the household of the patriarch. Any decline in the salience of these symbols leads to the unmasking of the basically coercive character of the relationship and calls for the creation of new myths and new symbols and in rare cases for a new locus for the sentiments of consensual community. Another source of loyalty is personal rulership. In its pure form the loyalty of the subjects is based neither on the personal qualities of the ruler nor on the legitimating traditions but is inextricably linked to material incentives and rewards. While political obligation does not derive directly from the established order and enactments (as in the case of roles based on official competence), it can exist only within the context of some established and accepted norms of reciprocity. Although it implies personal loyalty to the ruler, its basis is in material incentives and rewards and not in custom or feudal fealty. A personal ruler himself trans­ cends the bases of legitimacy and uses them wherever necessary or possible but typically combines them with material incentives in his exercise of rulership. The establishment and acceptance of the required norms of reciprocity rests on the ruler's consciousness of his right to rule and his domination of both the economic and the cultural orders. Where the ruler is not an individual but a class,

20 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule the relationship between its members (as individuals or groups) takes the form or alliances based on considerations or reward. In dealing with the subordinate populations, however, the class as a whole selects the most salient elements or the cultural order as its legitimation strategies. The fourth strategy of legitimation with which Weber deals extensively is the legal-rational authority that goes with bureau­ cratic domination. The key to this form of legitimation, for Weber, is that the interactions involved in relationships of domination and subordination are impersonal, governed by legal norms, and function-specific. Both the ruler and the ruled are in a legally defined relationship for the rational pursuit of their interests. In fact what creates and defines a public sphere as separate from the private sphere is precisely the bureaucratic-rational pursuit of interests. To Weber, the political neutrality of the bureaucracy as 'the civil service mentality' was an article of faith. It is now a commonplace in sociological literature that the pure form of bureaucratic­ rationality does not exist in any organization, including a profit­ oriented business firm (Cyert and March, 1965). If anything, with the rapid growth of rationalization of decision-making in govern­ ment and industry (as shown by the use of systems analysis, cybernetics, perspective planning, and research-development techniques) personal rulerships (whose basis is in material incentives and rewards) emerge with greater frequency. Weber had been aware of the possibility of increasing rationalization through the use of automatic and cybernetic techniques in the impersonal bureaucratic structures. That personal rulerships could emerge within such a bureaucratic-rational apparatus, Weber failed to see. The growth of state intervention in social life to correct the cause of dissatisfaction and the increasing concentration of privilege, i.e. wealth, power, and rank (with the added dimension of control of knowledge and information through systematic retrieval techniques), in fewer hands both in corporate sectors and in public bureaucracies are facilitated by the existence of personal rulership strategies. The existence of 'industrial feudalism', which is in fact personal rulership, has been noted in the literature on industrial bureaucracies (see Roth, 1968). Developments in the American Presidency and the Russian Central Committee and the personalized offices of prime ministers in parliamentary regimes such as Canada, Britain, and India point towards the growth of personal rulerships based on direct manipulation of rewards and incentives in order to gain personal loyalties of the bureaucrats. The correspondence

Introduction 21 between growing centres of contact between the public sphere and private life and the increasing personalization of institutions in the public sphere is more than a coincidence. The coexistence of formal procedure. general rules, and impersonal hierarchy with personal rulerships changes the bureau­ cratic phenomenon itself into a strategy of rulership. The literature of political development, however, does not recognize this as a universal characteristic of bureaucracy. It interprets corruption in the Third World bureaucracy as transitional and functional (La Palombara, 1963). It also emphasizes the verbalized conflict rather than the collaborative activity between bureaucrats and politicians. The evidence from the advanced industrial societies suggests that bureaucratic organizations tend to be more goal­ oriented than rule-oriented at the highest levels of hierarchy, while the lower echelons are more rule-oriented because of their interest in upward mobility through the ranks. This allows the higher public servants to collaborate with the politician and still retain the loyalty of the lower ranks. The latter tend to identify with the official values of the organization. Corporate identity is fostered by associated rituals. Bureaucracy as a whole, far from being the Hegelian universal class or a Weberian epitome of purposive­ rationality, becomes an instrument for the satisfaction of specific interests. The rulers, functioning as top bureaucrats, and the poli­ ticians, with the support of the ranks, can fulfil a range of private interests and justify them in the name of generalized, neutral, and sacrosanct rules presumed to have been made in the public interest. Bureaucratic organizations practice rule-rationality only when the goals of the rulers warrant it (Gouldner, 1954; Crozier, 1971; Tourraine, 1971. 139-92; Bailey, 1969, 81-2). The politics of personal rulership is dissociated from ethics, from considerations of a good and just communal life. It is the politics of a hegemonic class seeking to transform the community into its own image. To attain that goal it selectively uses the available sources of legitimation. Internally, its politics is that of competi­ tion, coalition, and collusion. Personal rulerships thrive under a pluralist democracy as adequately as they do under state capitalism (Djilas, 1957). Avenues intended for a rational dialogue on com­ munal goals and values and for institutionalizing doubt become debating societies. At best they discuss procedures that increase the capacity for the control and stability of the society and contribute to material improvement. Prospects for a substantial and continuing material improve-

22 Elite Pluralbm and Cla:.� Rule ment remain restricted to the ruling classes in the Third World. In the advanced industrial societies generally, only the marginal populations have been excluded from them. In the countries of the Third World the elites articulate the utopias of infinite material progress to gain the loyalty of the populations: so do the elites in the industrial world. The differences in the economic well-being of the populations of the two worlds separate their elites in a basic way but also unite them. The people in the two worlds live on the two poles of poverty and affluence but are similarly managed. For opposite reasons. stemming from opposite economic condi­ tions. the managers of these societies share an ideology and a mutual self-interest. The most obvious linkages between them are in the capital-oriented sectors of the economy. These connections have been documented and discussed in the literature dealing with colonialism, imperialism, and multinationalism (see, for example, Baran, 1969; Frank, 1970; Rhodes. 1970; Baran and Sweezy, 1968; Sweezy and Magdoff, 1972. also Calleo and Rowland, 1973). The concentration of managerial resources, political, economic, and military, in the hands of complementary or unitary elites in all nations, provides the basis for a shared interest in internal and international stability. Stability and peace have a special meaning in this case, because protection of the ruling interests is the primary concern. Stability of the institutions geared to material progress is maintained through international. regional, and con­ tinental collaboration. The growth of monopoly capital in the industrial societies requires that a system is established for policing the world. The crisis of poverty in the Third World requires that some marginal improvements lo the life of the people be made so that the stability of the management mechanisms is ensured. These marginal improvements are made through mechanisms of inter­ national aid and loans. Where they prove inadequate for stabilizing power relations, limited war provides an answer. Coalitions and bargaining are the normal mechanisms of elite relations within and between nations. Massive penetration of the economic systems of the Third World with aid and loans goes along with the expansion of private capital. The essential elements of this immensely complex phenomenon should not be overlooked. The problems of legitimation for all regimes stem from the economic organization of their societies, which, notwithstanding their glaring differences and performances. are based on one common structural characteristic: they are class societies. They have an identifiable ruling class with hegemonic

Introduction 23 r r�1 ,.,ions. Whether we are presented with a dominant farming c,1·,lt a self-consciow, bureaucracy, a group of single-minded t� hnocrats, or a team of corporate capitalists and managers, 1l1l, .ill posse:.-i:. similar attributes. Their coalitions arc intra-national t•, well as international. The international dimension uncovers th1.. major ne,·· ways with which the myth-making potential of a 1,:itional elite is augmented. In any society, to be a ruler is to be :AMe lo separate self from the community. To be a ruler is to be ; ble to claim 1he community's surplus. To be a ruler is also to be ,ible to recombine self with the community but in such a way that the surplus 1s retained. In this ability to dissociate from the com­ munity in the name of the C(•mmunity lies the origin of the strategic manifestation of claim:. lo solidarity. To be maintained (whether a single patr�arch, a class, 0r an impersonali£ed state apparatus) in power over long stretche: of cime requires that the ruler should come to term,; with the community, should legitimize the power, transform 1t i. to authority. With the need to legitimize comes the need to identify consciously rhc an.::ho1 pornts of loyalty for exploitation. Where they are real. only the Jeg1t1·nation of the c;eparation of the public sphere itself acquires a mythical quality. Where no anchor points exist, new mythical ones are created. Affect towards these objects of loyalty is cultivated through elaborate socialization mechanisms. Since they arc only rollow creations of the rulers, the affect can be shared by all. while the contents are perceived differently by different members. Freedom, democracy, progres:-, development, national interest, peace, old an,l new symbols or human community become the weapons of manipulation. Tl-iey are visible and potent in both modern and traditional societies. Wars are fought in the name of stability and freedom, citizens incarcerated in the name of development and peace. Progressive depoliticization of decisions is justified in the name of efficienc1. Responsiveness and respon­ sibility are translated into indoctrination or trivia. Unfortunately, we cannot .!A,,mine these tende ·1cics in detail. They are integral parts of a par.Orama of which p1uralist politics is a smalJ aspect. Our scar.;h has been primarily jirectcd towards a general frame­ work of analysis which can compensate for the one-sidedness of the pluralist view of Indian politics. The deficiencies of the pluralist model were located in the dichotomy of tradition and modernity, emphasized by most contemporary social scientists. That dichotomy and its subsequent manifestations in purposive-rationality,. objcc-

24 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule tivist science, and apolitical politics (McCoy and Playford, 1967) have pushed into the background the central question of legitima­ tion and its public-private dialectic. We cannot explore here many of the hidden dimensions of this dialectic. For two reasons we have touched upon some crucial similarities, differences, and inter­ dependencies between contemporary societies and their histories. First, the analysis of even a small unit of an integrated polity, if isolated from the context of total human liberation, wiU fall victim to the tendencies criticized above. Second, we have none­ theless generated a set of specific concepts amenable to empirical analysis. We have been able to clarify the relationship between patriar­ chalism, patrimonialism, personal rulership, and bureaucracy. From the perspective of the ruling elite, they can be seen as strategies of legitimation. The development of patriarchal and patrimonial social organization in rural India was the historical base from which the contemporary use of patriarchal-patrimonial legitimation strategies is derived. The related concept of a hegemonic class amplifies the meaning of rulership strategies. An assertion that a small, organized ruling elite manages a society should not be misinterpreted to mean that members of the elite are in a conscious conspiracy against the masses. The openness of the democratic arena, the existence of relatively uncontrolled press and media, the diversity of the publicly expressed views and competitive activities of the elite can be given as evidence against such claims. In the idea of hegemony there is no implication of a conspiracy. The elite penetrates the cultural order of the society. In analysing the avenues of public debate such as the free press, the media, the legislatures, and the universities, the hegemonic aspects of elite rule must be examined. The institutionalized processes of public debate assume a corresponding motivation and ability on the part of the citizens. The pluralist literature refers to some of these quali­ ties as politicization (Almond and Verba, I 965; Milbrath, 1966). Voting as an aspect of this politicization is said to be inherently important as an input to collective decision-making (Parsons, 1969). Voting remains the only political activity of the population as a whole in pluralist democracies, and its real character and meaning for the electorate should be fully examined. Given the gulf that separates the elite from the citizens, concepts that lump the political consciousness of the citizen and the elite together must be questioned. For the elite, politicization constitutes the exercise of hegemonic consciousness; for the citizen it turns out

Introduction 25 to be a ritual ratification of the regime. For the elite, political participation involves manipulation of two strategies: legitimation in the eyes of the citizens and the personal rulership strategies of intra-elite interaction. The latter deserve a detailed examination because they constitute the common denominator of the increasingly managed life of citizens in all human societies. Developed or underdeveloped, societies seem to be governed more and more by personal rulerships, with citizen participation reduced to ritual acts of acclamation. The older symbols of legiti­ mation, patriarchal and patrimonial, and the newer ones of pro­ gress, control of nature, and national pride coexist and contribute to the hegemony of rulers. These trends will be illustrated by an analysis of rural politics in one of the states of India. Similar analysis of other parts of the Third World and of industrial society, though possible and desirable, is beyond the scope of this study. The rest of this chapter gives a general introduction to Indian politics and develops a model of rural polity in Maharashtra. The patriar­ chal-patrimonial village organization under the Maratha hegemony is presented in the second chapter. The third chapter discusses citizens' access to the avenues of public debate, discourse, and resource distribution. In the fourth chapter the strategic mani­ pulation of the electoral, partisan, legislative, and administrative process by the ruling elite is discussed in general terms. The fifth chapter presents two specific and detailed case studies and shows the manner in which the regional hegemony of the rural elite merges with the national political organization. The argument is directed towards showing how Indian rural elite circumscribes the political arena in a manner similar to that of the democracies elsewhere. ln comparison with the expectations that the foregoing analysis may have created, the ensuing effort is obviously modest. But without the general framework it would appear fruitless. The detailed description of political and social behaviour in Maharashtra may, perhaps, stand on its own as a critique of the percolation thesis. But as such it would be only an internal criticism, subject to incorporation into a modified pluralist vision by a liberal or conservative critique (see Dahl, 1970; Lloyd and McLeod, 1968; Lowi, 1969). On the other hand a strict Marxist analysis of the plight of the bottom half of the rural society would lead to roman­ ticist forecasts of an imminent revolution. Even though the land­ scape remains unfinished it must be sketched. The last chapter once again raises the question of the prospects for true democracy,

26 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule for a society in which the community determines its goals con­ sciously and rationally through discourse free of domination. POLITICS IN INDIA, GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS

Emphasizing the rural hegemonic class has obvious justifications. India is primarily an agrarian society, so that any effort to under­ stand it must come to terms with rural society. Usually the tenn 'peasantry' is given no precise meaning. In spite of massive anthro­ pological research on village society, a general analysis of the rural class structure and its links with the outside world is not available. The political influence of the rural elite is generally recognized too, but it has been analysed only piecemeal in the studies of state politics. In contrast, the more urban sectors of the ruling class have been examined in much greater detail. It is much more vocal, articulate, more obviously cohesive. Its hegemony in the cultural and the economic domains is easy to recognize. It includes big business (see, for example, Hazari, 1966) with its visible links with the imperialist capital (see Kidron, 1965; Bagchi, 1973), the bureau­ cracy, both public and private (see Chanda, 1960; Braibanti and Spengler, 1963; Prasad, 1968; Maheshwari, 1972), the semi-attached intellectuals and professionals (see Shils, l 973; Rosen, 1966), and the military (Maddison, 1971 ). All these groups are a legacy of the colonial rule, surviving a smooth transition from the colonial regime to national independence. Their interests were protected and have thrived since. Although these groups appear to bring a wide range of perspectives to bear on development policies, their mutual relationships have been collaborative. A study of major economic and social policies reveals that their interests have not suffered in spite of the slogans of socialism and state control. • Taxation has had little influence on urban income distribution. Health and education programs have benefited the upper income groups in urban areas. Vigorous state intervention bas widened the scope and size of the bureaucracy. No significant structural changes in recruitment, training, and behaviour of administrators have been allowed (Lele, 1971; Maheshwari, 1972; Maddison, 1971). The same is true of the armed forces (Press Institute of India, 1969). Both the bureaucracy and the military have continued to be rigidly hierarchical, separating the elite from the ranks. The number of professionals and highly trained intellectuals has grown rapidly, contributing to the stability of the system through their

Introduction 27 participation in planning and policy-making and gaining privileges in return. Together, these sectors of the urban ruling class had contributed to a kind of cultural renaissance of India. The British encouraged their growth as the need for indigenous support for its rule grew. Legal, bureaucratic, and educational institutions were expanded to accommodate the aspirations of the rising, loyal middle classes. Slowly those aspirations grew beyond the capabilities of a colonial regime (Panikkar, 1963). Because of their affinity with colonial customs and ideas these classes were in the forefront during the transition to independence and put their own stamp on the economic and political institutions of independent India. Although diverse in appearance and segmented in interests, the urban class shares a reformist, modernist perspective about society and culture. They communicate effectively with each other (thanks to the English language) and operate a collaborationist strategy for the satisfaction of their interests. Their hegemony is not difficult to identify. The identity of the hegemonic rural class cannot be established as easily. Dispersed in thousands of villages separated by strong regional and linguistic barriers, its points of contact with national politics and economy are not obvious. This does not mean, how­ ever, that in terms of interests, cultural domination, and economic control there are no identifiable strata within the rural society. Nor does it mean that there are no institutional mechanisms for asserting their interests and claims beyond the village. Neither the hegemonic character of the rural ruling class nor its channels of influence have been sufficiently identified; this study attempts to do so. The basic themes of the cultural order are those of the existing social organization: kinship and caste. The primary coercive resources are economic, based on the ownership of land. The most significant aspects of kinship and caste are expressed in the concept of the dominant caste, which combines cultural and economic domination. A dominant caste usually has the following attributes: the ownership of substantial agricultural land, ritual rank, numerical strength, and a willingness to use this strength to assert domination (Mandelbaum, 1970, 358-80). Although kinship is the basic unit of landownership and land use, the caste is equally significant because it is, for all practical purposes, an extended kinship unit (Mayer, 1965; Karve, 1961, 17). In spite of the internal inequality of land distribution, the caste as a whole maintains a position of cultural and economic domination. The cultural force of the

28 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule dominant caste becomes obvious because of its place as a 'reference group' for the other castes in a village (Merton, 1968, 292-3; Mandelbaum, 1970, 442-99; Damle, 1963; Srinivas, 1962). The long tradition of slow but persistent mobility of lower castes has been noted by many anthropologists. A caste group which acquires sufficient wealth and a numerical strength makes an effort to improve its rank, usually taking the dominant caste as a referonce for emulat­ ing customs and adopting new practices and a new name. The dominant caste leads the village culturally and economically, and even its less wealthy members are able to share the hegemonic consciousness with their more fortunate kin. The relationship of the more wealthy and powerful members to the others within a caste roughly follows the patriarchal pattern. Filial piety and respect for tradition are emphasized. The poorer members share a sense of domination by asserting a kinship bond with the rich, though such claims are sometimes tenuous and farfetched. The relationship between a dominant caste and the other castes has two dimensions: economic dependence and a reference orientation. In this sense the relationship is patrimonial in character. 1 8 The coercive aspects of economic dependence are kept hidden. Emphasis is placed on a shared tradition whose superiority is held to be beyond challenge. Elaborate and periodic rituals are associated with the major events in the households of the rulers and in the village itself. The rank order, whose base is wealth and power, is expressed primarily through rituals emphasizing hierarchy (Mandelbaum, 1970). Patrimonial relationships, as Weber clearly pointed out, were not necessarily harmonious or cohesive. 19 The service castes, in contrast to the labouring castes, have some ability to bargain, and a few cases of collective action by one or several of these caste­ groups have been noted. But the ability of these castes to stand their ground, although greater than that of landless labour, is severely limited. The cause of a struggle against a dominant caste is often a desire for recognition of higher rank, and emulation of the practices of the dominant castes is often the basis. Since a village is the primary unit of the relations of production, the exercise of dominance is generally restricted to a single village. Kinship and caste relations, however, often extend to several villages. Traditional caste councils (caste panchayats) extending over several villages have existed for a long time but have rarely been extensive enough to provide the basis for a regional interest group. Nevertheless, pluralists have identified a few such interest

Introduction 29 organizations, suggesting that politics now uses castes by trans­ forming them into interest groups. A closer look at some of these associations shows two tendencies: the more successful ones are usually those of the dominant castes, and they are generally formed to reassert claims to dominance after a decline. Alien groups such as moneylenders, expansionist feudal nobles, their administrators, and the administrators appointed by the British had often cut into the patriarchal-patrimonial domination of the ruling members of the dominant castes. The revolts of the Vanniyars in Tamilnadu against the Brahmins (lrschick, 1969), those of the Rajputs in Gujarat in association with other traditionally dominant landown­ ing castes against the Patidars (Shah, 1964; Kothari and Maru, 1965; Somjee 1971), of the Jat organizations in Uttar Pradesh (Pradhan, 1966) and in Rajasthan against the Rajputs (Sisson, 1972: Kamal, n.d.) can be explained as a reassertion against the externally imposed power and influence of the alien or indigenous castes. Such conflicts are a part of the established pattern of inter­ action within the ruling class and often give way to collaboration and alliance formation if shared interest in material enhancement or domination emerges. The dominant castes are better situated for advancing regional hegemonic claims because of their tradi­ tionally strong regional caste councils (Mandelbaum, 1970) and also because they were often linked by kinship bonds to the regional feudatory lords during the pre-British period. Since their hegemonic claims are rooted in patriarchal-patrimonial tradition, their regional aspirations are accepted without challenge by the other castes. If we contrast their success with the failure of the regional organiza­ tions of the labouring castes, the pattern of dominance becomes obvious. 20 Within a dominant caste the leadership of a single patriarch may be accepted by all or divided between two or more rivals from the leading lineages. such intra-caste competition not being anything new. Leadership, during the Muslim and British regimes the function of the headman, was usually in the hands of a senior member of a high-ranking lineage within the dominant caste. Its origin can be traced back to the period of early migration from the north and the settlement of the -villages. The headman of a village, at this early stage when tribes were splitting up to settle new villages, was linked to the regional rulers by kinship ties and part of the patriar­ chal framework (Kosambi, 1969; Altekar, 1927; Drekmeier, 1962). During the subsequent invasions, usurpations, and alien rule, the beadmanship became a reward with which the alien rulers tried to

30 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule gain the loyalty of some members of a dominant I ineage and through it control over the village revenue. Competition arose between the ambitious members of the prominent lineages of the dominant caste (Kumar, 1968: Frykenberg, 1963). With the emergence of new centres for the control of public resources (the panchayats and the co-operatives) the factional struggle has shifted to the newer, more substantial rewards but remains restricted to the members of the dominant castes (Mandelbaum, 1970). Whereas the links between the village elite and the regional rulers date back to the period of early settlements, competitive factionalism arose only when the alien rulers could not claim legitimation through the traditional anchor points of patriarchal authority. They had to establish a new system of rewards and resorted to the strategy of personal ruJership. This was particularly true during the pre-British period when the Mogul aristocracy and the auto­ nomous princelings were competing with each other for the control of the land and revenue. 21 In contemporary politics the exercise of rulership begins with the competitive factionalism of the ruling class and works through a complex hierarchy of levels of party organization and the legisla­ tive and administrative units of the government. Although this complex web of interactions remains hidden behind formal consti­ tutional structures, its influence on the policies of the government is not hard to decipher. Economic planning by the federal and state governments has created an infrastructure to facilitate investment decisions by private capital without encumbrances. In the industrial sector the government provides unusually long periods of gestation and protected markets, entering the economy in those vital sectors private capital considers too risky. In the agricultural sector it provides the surplus-generating, landowning farmers with cheap inputs, institutions for cheap and easy credit and marketing, protective prices, and tax-free profits (Frankel, 1971, chap. 7; Maddison, 1971). Such policies are justified in terms of a purported national interest: to improve India's balance of trade in the world market and to ensure relative autonomy in essential commodities and capital goods. The Indian government follows the route of all the governments in capitalist societies; the state corrects the imbalances of the markets and ensures stability and peace needed for free investment decisions by private capital (Habermas, 1973). The middle class farmers scattered in thousands of villages cannot and do not affect policy-making through formalized pressure groups or associations. Such associations are in fact conspicuously

Introduction 31 absent among the dominant landowning castes. Middle class farmers enter the decision-making processes directly, as a hegemonic elite, selecting appropriate myths from the cultural order and combining them with strategic control over major access points to public resources. This activity of the rural elite vis-a-vis the population and the state is our basic theme. Its intricacies will be elicited with the help of a model of the rural polity in Maharashtra. CONTEMPORARY RURAL POLITY: THE MAHARASHTRA MODEL

The basic units are the old administrative divisions: village, taluka, and district. The constituencies of the state legislature correspond roughly to the boundaries of the talukas. The traditional adminis­ trative units now correspond to the new units oflocal government: the panchayat (village), the panchayat samiti (taluka), and the zilla parishad (district). The rural elite controls all these units as well as the semi-public co-operative and educational institutions. Policies on all relevant public resources are made and implemented through these units using fully articulated legal, legislative, and formal procedures by which members are recruited, deliberations carried out, decisions made, and policies implemented. The ruraJ elite has put its own stamp on these procedures and institutions. It has established associated informal structures of factions and alliances corresponding to these levels of government. Factions and alliances operating under the umbrella of the Congress Party give the rural elite its control, and the mechanism that mediates between the formal and informal structures is patronage. The faction

Competitive factionalism of the ambitious members of dominant lineages has been noted in all parts of India (Mandelbaum, 1970). The causes of the rise of factions are varied. Regardless of their origins, factions form an important part of the elite strategy. The following schematic picture of the constitutive elements of a faction only approximates the complex reality. Schematically, a faction consists of I a faction leader, who usually belongs to a (or the) dominant caste, and his immediate, extended family, 2 other kin of the leader who are economically independent, 3 real or fictitious kin of the above who are economically dependent (tenants, labour),

32 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule 4 the middle castes economically interdependent with the above, 5 the service castes that serve the above groups, and 6 the tenants and the landless labourers of the non-dominant castes dependent for their livelihood on the above groups. I The faction leader and kin In a large majority of the villages of Maharashtra, Marathas are the dominant caste. Villages with other castes in dominant positions exist but are few in number and normally conform to the require­ ments of the regional Maratha dominance (Orenstein, 1963, 1965). In most villages Marathas constitute a very substantial portion of the total population, but in a given village only a few Marathas have the concentration of wealth, power, and rank. The latter two are often the consequence of the first but were in the past closely linked with the hereditary headmanship (patilki). The faction leaders are usually from this privileged group. The rival factions within a dominant caste consciously coalesce in the event of threats to their dominance from other castes. Given the social structure of domi­ nance, such threats are rare. Competition. not action in defence of the shared interest, is the normal pattern of interaction. 2 Independent kin Along with the faction leader's household, the economically independent kinship units constitute the privileged inner core of the dominant caste. To this group belong the individuals who may develop their own political aspirations to become new rivals to the existing faction leaders (Miller. 1965, 23). These prospects provide some uncertainty and a degree of flexibility which brings dynamism to the competition between the rival faction leaders. 3 Dependent kin The third group consists of the less privileged members of the dominant caste. They are owners of very small parcels of land, tenants, labourers. Their ties with the faction leaders are basically of economic dependency, culturally reinforced through the invoca­ tion of real or fictitious kinship. This group shares with the privileged members a sense of hegemony and domination. In spite of the coerciveness of dependence it provides the continuing basis of support for the faction leaders. 22

Introduction 33 4 Middle castes Members of the middle castes are usually small traders and those whose services are not covered under the baluta system. Many have acquired reasonable amounts of land and often have members of the family working outside the village. The dominant caste constitutes a reference group into which they seek an entry or strive for a parallel ritual rank and with which they rarely compete, except where they have numerical and economic strength equal to it. In short, they confirm the cultural leadership of the dominant caste. 5 Service castes Whereas kin and caste interactions extend over several villages, economic relationships remain predominantly within the village boundaries. Historically they formed a system in which specific kinship units belonging to some of the service castes were tied to landholding families in a baluta relationship. Inputs for agricultural production as well as services were provided in perpetuity by specialized kinship units to the families of specific landlords but were separated from the criteria of rewards. A hierarchical obliga­ tory relationship was established in which the landholders controlled the resources for the satisfaction of the vital needs of the dependent service castes. The decline of the baluta system due to the penetration of the cash economy has not completely abolished the hierarchical, dependency relationships within the villages. Some members of the service castes are still nearly totally dependent on landholders. Attachment to specific families and payment in kind at harvest time are not uncommon. Many others have become tenants or labourers and remain attached to the landlords with an increased sense of dependency. The ritual aspects of the baluta system, still adhered to by most villagers, help retain a sense of dependence on the landlords even where no direct obligations are involved (Mandelbaum, 1970, 161-80; Karve, 1961; Karve and Damle, 1963; Orenstein, 1962). 6 Tenants and labourers This group is primarily composed of the scheduled castes (un­ touchables) who have traditionally worked as menial servants or

34 Elite Pluralism and Class Ruic landless labourers. In this case. while the relationship to the faction is that of obvious economic dependence. traditional loyalty is generally effective and threats of coercion are uncommon. The structure of factional loyalties, which is mainly rooted in economic dependence, receives strong reinforcement from the cultural order, which is by no means inherently superior as the tradition-modernity axis tends to assume (Bendix. 1964). A faction leader must endeavour to retain the loyalty of his supporters and must resort to different strategies in dealing with the various elements of his faction. Tradition acquired the role of a strategy. In the case of the loyalty of the immediate extended family of the faction leader and that of the economically independent Maratha households. the stress is on kinship loyalties. This does not preclude the splitting off of an ambitious rival. but the latter must oflen depend on external support for initiating a new faction. The existence or the threat of a rival faction introduces a new element into the relationship between the leading members of the dominant castes. Although kinship bonds are still basic, they lose their effectiveness when loyalty claims are made by two members of the same family. Material incentives and rewards then enter the scene. If and when alternate avenues for interest satisfaction emerge, the personal loyalty relationships between a member and the faction leader tend to break: the member may shift to a more powerful faction or may himself become a faction leader and is likely to take along with him the support of members of the dependent castes affiliated with him. In spite of this competitive relationship among the Maratha elite, the structure of privilege within a village does not change. A faction leader actively seeks access to public resources, primarily to satisfy his own needs and the demand for rewards and incentives from his leading associates in his own caste. For dependent Marathas kinship bonds perform the strategic function. Following Weber I have called this the patriarchal strategy. The other dependent castes do not form part of the kinship network. Hence the legitimating strategy is to invoke the symbols of community through ritual interdependence. The functional, econo­ mic dependence relationship is camouflaged under rituals of interdependence associated with the fairs and festivals of the village deity or with initiation ceremonies (birth, wedding, funeral) in the leader's household. Weber's concept of patrimonialism applies to this relationship. In other words a faction leader uses the patrimonial strategy towards the dependent castes. The same strategy also

Introduction 35 applies to the independent middle castes which recognize the cultural leadership of the Marathas. 23 The structure of competitive factionalism in the village propels a faction leader to seek as exclusive an access to public resources as possible. The immediate unit of interest is usually the village panchayat, a local co-operative, or a school board. An office within the Congress Party is also a possible avenue for eventual access to public resources. Since these units are the lowest in a hierarchy that extends to the state government through the district and the taluka, a faction leader also needs links with the elite in control of the higher units. With them, he must seek a mutual, collaborative relationship. He must form political alliances.

The alliance

An alliance is a relationship of support between several faction leaders and a person who holds or aspires to a political office within the governmental hierarchy and normally at a level above that of the village. Most of these offices are elective, and anyone aspiring to them has to gain electoral support. A local governments consti­ tuency usually comprises all adults from a group of several villages. The constituencies for co-operatives and educational bodies are more limited but still extend lo several villages. The support struc­ ture of a single village faction is thus not adequate; hence the necessity for alliances. At all levels there is a close relationship between factional loyalty and electoral support. For its leader a faction does not exist pri­ marily as a channel for delivering votes; he commands their loyalty in other spheres of action as well. In dealing with the alliance leaders, however, his ability to deliver votes has significant benefits even if he does not aspire to electoral office. With his bloc of votes he enters into an exchange relationship and gains for himself a privileged access to public resources. These in turn can be channelled to less stable elements of his own faction as rewards for loyalty. rf he himself aspires to electoral office, he can use his access for establish­ ing his own alliance with other faction leaders. An established alliance leader who has been in a political office a long time will usually receive many offers of support. A new aspirant must put together an alliance from the faction leaders who have been outmanoeuvred by their rivals in establishing supportive relationships with an established leader. An alliance will usually endure as long as none of the parties expect to improve their

36 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule prospects by shifting allegiance to a rival. During periods of electoral and general political stability alliances last much longer than during periods of acute instability. Duration is primarily a function of the recognition of the fact that an alliance is a mutual, optimally rewarding relationship. Alliances are mechanisms of organizing political support. One of their important functions is to deliver votes to the alliance leaders at the time of the election. The larger the constituency, the greater the number of villages included in it, and hence the larger the number of faction leaders. The greater the number of faction leaders, the greater the demands for access to government resources. These demands will have a wider variety and their satisfaction will require greater and more complex manipulation of the formal governmental mechanisms. During elections the strategies of legitimation appear as strategies of gaining and retaining the support of the faction leaders through successively more inclusive higher-order alliances. Alliance leaders primarily use personal rulership strategy to gain the support of the faction leaders, with whom they rarely have patriarchal or patri­ monial ties. The material incentives and rewards within the political domain come primarily from the resources designated as public. The alliance leaders can rarely afford to muster enough private resources for continuous demand satisfaction of supporters. The prime mechanism of transferring what is explicitly defined as public to the satisfaction of private and personal needs of the political actors is patronage. Patronage

While personal rulerships ensure that access to the distributive channels of public resources is controlled and manned by members of the ruling class, patronage becomes the actual mechanism of the transfer of those resources. Personal rulerships and their class base are reflected in policy, which tends to protect the common interest of the ruling class. Patronage fulfils specific demands for material rewards, demands basic to political support, which is in turn basic to the acquisition of an elective office, which in turn is used to influence public policy. Personal rulers, through their participation in the legislative and bureaucratic apparatus, ensure that polcies and procedures do not work in favour of antagonistic causes. However, policies have always to be made with a general applicability to the entire popu-

Introduction 37 lation, and the formal rationalily of public policy applies to both legislative action and implementive procedures. Patronage thus bypasses the requirements of the general distribution of resources and makes possible their privatization. Acquiring a public office is not in itself an act of patronage. Personal rulerships which gain loyalty through promise or delivery of material rewards are also not, by themselves, exercises of patronage. Bypassing the public commitments of resources to satisfy preferentially the demands of supporters is. One encounters difficulties in distinguishing between patronage and corruption (Scott, 1969). Patronage usually remains within the legal parameters of public policy and depends heavily on discre­ tionary powers associated with implementing procedures, stretching these powers to a point where their legality comes in doubt. When the exercise is explicitly illegal, patronage becomes corruption. In practice most acts of public officials remain within the twilight zone of stretched discretion. Where bureaucratic rigidities allow little discretion, patronage often appears in a symbolic form as an implied promise of a future material incentive or reward. A public handshake, excessive praise, a central position at a dinner party, almost any act can turn into a symbolic reward provided not only the giver and the receiver but the entire constituency or the 'clien­ tele' of the receiver understands it as a promise. In this sense patron­ age is not psychic but symbolic, a promise recognized by the relevant community. Wherever public policy impinges on the personal domain, opportunity for direct patronage exists. Along with the rapid increase in state intervention into more and more social institutions in the advanced industrial societies, a substantial increase in patron­ age has been noticed. It accompanies the rise in personal ruler­ ships in formal bureaucratic public organizations. 24 For a middle class farmer in Maharashtra, contact points between the personal domain and public policy are many. An owner of a reasonably large piece of cultivable land needs a range of inputs, seeds and fertilizers, credit, and facilities for storage and marketing, for which he must enter the economy outside the village. That control and allocation of most of these scarce resources is located in the public sector can hardly be an accident. The more ambitious of the rural entrepreneurs seek to enter the world of processing industries either as clients or as entrepreneurs. Their demands include credit, technical advice, imports of machinery, sites for location, and opportunities for the export of products.

38 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule For all these they must seek permits, licences, preferred crecllt, and export facilities through the public sector. Without some leverage in the bureaucratic apparatus most of these demands cannot be easily fulfilled. The ruling elite uses the rational-bureau­ cratic framework to restrict access to resources. At each level (of village, 1aluka, and district) is a body of elected officials associated with the units of development administration. In addition, at each level there are semi-public or publicly supported bodies such as co-operative credit and marketing societies and educational institutions. This hierarchy of access points makes it possible for those seeking resources in the public domain on an exclusive basis to relate to those whose aspirations for an office are geared to that level. The fluid internal dynamics of factions and alliances operates within the stable structure of obligations. This structure consists of the levels of government, the associated electoral constituencies, and the parallel factions and alliances. It connects the viJlage with the state and national governments, through the panchaya1 institutions, the co-operatives, and the party units and is a product of conscious public policy. Its enactment was a deliberate decision on the part of the rural elite as the hege­ monic class (see Government of Maharashtra, I 961 ; Lele, 1966). Underlying the model presented here is the assumption that elite Maratha politics is synonymous with Congress Party politics in rural Maharasbtra. The other political parties, ineffective in receiv­ ing singular, long-term affiliation from a substantial section of the ruling elite, have operated primarily as temporary havens for disappointed rivals of the successful alliance leaders within the Congress Party (see chapter 5). The Congress Party is successful because it is essentially the party of the rural middle classes. Its public policy in the area of agriculture has been geared to the satisfaction of the interests of these classes. From the point of view of the rural elite, the Con­ gress Party has been an effective mechanism for enhancing their self-interest. Like their loyalties in the alliance structures, their identification with the Congress Party is a function of its ability to deliver rewards and incentives. THE CONGRESS SYSTEM AND THE ELITE

Temporary withdrawal from the Congress Party in order Lo defeat a rival alliance leader is a common feature of the pre-electoral strategy of the rural elite. Opposition parties with weak structural

Introduction 39 bases are used for such manoeuvres, as will be shown in later chapters. Consequently the Congress Party rarely receives much more than 50 per cent of the vote in the rural constituencies (Baxter, 1969). The urban picture is different. The opposition parties seem to find more permanent pockets of support among the urban elite. The petty bourgeoisie (including higher-income white-collar workers, teachers, professionals, traders, shopkeepers, etc.) tends to support such parties as the Jan Sangh, while big business has provided support for the Swatantra Party. The organized working class is split into unions which support a number of different parties including the Congress, the Socialist, and the two Communist parties. While we cannot examine the complex support networks of the various parties in the urban centres of Maharashtra, it is clear that the Congress Party receives its support from all segments of the urban elite. The interest of the elite in maintaining a relatively stable, competitive political structure is reflected in the orientations of all the major political parties including those claiming to be on the Left. The results of the hegemonic domination of this elite in all parties, including the Congress, can best be seen in state policy. The major impact of government policy in the urban, industrial sectors has come in the form of investments in heavy industries and in sectors neglected or feared by private capital. the improve­ ment of material and human infrastructures (transportation, education, health, new towns, major housing and building construc­ tion), restrictions on the activities of the private sector in industry (detailed controls), active promotion of private small-scale industry and some marginal welfare activity (for amelioration of the plight of the unemployed, slumdwellers, etc.). The creation of the public sector and development of heavy industry were supported by and have in turn benefited big private capital (Bettelheim, 1968). The policy of controls and licensing may have caused some inconve­ nience for investors, but the net result, in the form of restricted entry and protected markets, has been beneficial to them. While a progressive tax structure was proposed and partly introduced to rechannel excessive earnings, because of a high evasion rate its distributive impact has been negligible (Maddison, 1971). On the whole, the so-called socinlist pattern of industrial economy has been accepted and supported by big capital, whose satisfaction with the system is reflected in its substantial financial support to the Congress Party. The interests of big capital have so far not clashed with those of the urban or the rural petty-bourgeoisie, including the bureaucracy and the farming castes.

40 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule The banking industry and private finance capital generally has not been so fortunate. The commercial banks have provided substantial financial backing Lo the village moneylenders, the indigenous local bankers, and the traders in agricultural produce (Reserve Bank of India, 1961). These interests have always been antagonistic to the rural class. The banks made no effort to extend liberal credit terms to the agricultural producers directly. In the initial development plans Congress policy, in order to avoid conflict with organized finance capital, supported a massive structure of credit and marketing co-operatives - primarily financed or protec­ ted through public resources. This was an effort to bypass the banks and undermine Lhe traditional lending agencies. The co­ operative structure soon became choked by overdues, mismanage­ ment, and fraud (Dandekar, 1973; Kamat, G.S., 1973). The govern­ ment therefore turned to the thriving commercial banks and nationalized them in order to supplement the sources of credit for the rural class (Shah and Kulkarni, 1973). Some conflicts with the industrial sector, especially in the processing industries, have begun to occur, and the rural petty-bourgeoisie is emerging the winner. A case in point is the rapid growth in the co-operative sugar industry in Maharashtra (Kamat, G.S., 1973). The private sugar industry has declined rapidly with the highly favoured treatment by the government to the industry of the rural petty-bourgeoisie. A similar pattern may be emerging for the oil mills, paddy mills, and spinning mills. The earlier policy of the abolition of the zamindari (a land revenue collection system set up by the British granting hereditary and transferable property rights to tax collectors over sustantial land holdings) and the later abolition of privileges of the princes also benefited the rural petty-bourgeoisie. In addition, the lack of an effective, progesssive tax structure has also meant a bonanza for the rural elite (Maddison, 1971 ; Etienne, 1968, 8 I). The programs for community development have done for the rural middle class what the public sector and infrastructural investment have done for private industrial capital. The Congress Party in structure, process, and policy primarily represents this dominant rural landowning class. Jn the forthcoming chapters we examine in detail how the struc­ tures are created and sustained, how the elite manipulates them, and what the policy outcomes are. The data come from one state only, so that generalizations and conclusions on the basis of our model should be treated as hypotheses. Preliminary evidence

Introduction 41 suggests that with some modifications the analysis applies to the situation in most part of India. CONCLUSION

Since major analyses of Indian politics begin with pluralist assump­ tions, this study began with a description and a critique of pluralism as practised in North America. We then examined the pluralist analysis of Indian polity and investigated the reasons for the lack of a critique of it parallel to the one in North America. The basic difficulties of pluralist analysis arise not from its ahistorical depend­ ence on behavioural criteria but from its unstated faith in the polar concepts of tradition and modernity. Even the arguments about the modernity of tradition begin with this ideal dichotomy (Rudolph and Rudolph, 1967). Our search for a more comprehensive expla­ nation of why pluralist explanations thrive in both industrial and Third World politics led us to Marx and Weber. In Marx we locate the basic insight about legitimation and ideology as necessary restraints on the rulers who privatize the surplus social product. Weber provided us with the typology of rulership strategies through which the ruling classes utilize ideologies and myths to legitimize the basic contradiction of the privatization of the public sphere. These insights were then used to present a general picture of Indian polity and its specific manifestations in Maharashtra state. The discussion has stressed the parallels in the activities of ruling classes and states between advanced industrial and Indian society. This emphasis is intended in part to show the inadequacy of the tradition-modernity dichotomy but also to focus on the possible consequences of following the Western industrial path to economic prosperity. The privatization of the public sphere and the dissocia­ tion of the political from the ethical result in private affluence coupled with public squalor. The argument is that the politics of the middle classes tends to follow this pattern in societies at highly disparate stages of economic development. An analysis of rulership strategies by itself does not bring human liberation. But the discovery that rulerships based on domination are inherent social contradictions will enable man, some day, to resolve them to his satisfaction. Liberation cannot be achieved by creating 'utopistic' solutions (Bloch, E., 1970, 89). Nor can it thrive on a romantic search for a revolutionary activity by one deprived group or another. Since privatization of the public sphere is the basic contradiction from which domination springs, its resolution

42 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule lies in the recognition of the legitimating strategies as myths, the opacity of which conceals the genuine communal potential of man (Lefebvre, 1968). Caught in this web are not only the dependent classes but the hegemonic class as well; both are deprived of a genuine community of man. The hegemonic class (or a despotic ruler) in appropriating communal surplus sees an appropriation of the community itself and feels powerful, while the deprived classes are able to recognize their powerlessness and the absence of a genuine community only when the myths become transparent. Recognition of the inhumanity of their existence, according to Marx, gives the dependent classes a revolutionary edge, while satisfaction based on a false sense of community makes the ruling class conservative (Marx and Engels, 1956). The same false consciousness of the relations of the hegemonic class with the dependent population, however. bides a genuine emancipatory intention. Grounded in the community of social labour, the idea of evolving human community forms the itinerary of the species. Even in the face of successive mystifications it has 'resounded and informed from time immemorial' and is 'still displayed and proposed in the face of it' (Bloch, E., 1970, 91; also Habennas, 1974, 195-252). The resurgence of this idea when combined with the revolutionary edge of the deprived classes produces efforts at demystification, but these attempts often fail to recognize social labour as the basis of surplus and domination as its cultural framework. Where economic scarcity is treated as a given condition of existence, revolutionary upheavals become expressions of ressentiment and end either in tightening an old class rule or in the emergence of a new hegemonic class (Habermas, 1971, 43-63). Where scarcity is recognized as the limiting condition of community and freedom, the revolutionary effort directed towards its annihilation becomes a journey towards freedom and true democracy. Models of economic development separate production from distribution and emphasize the primacy of the first (Maddison, 1971). In this they perpetuate liberal ideology and its faith in the pluralistic percolation of rewards. The thrust of the present argu­ ment is that such faith is unwarranted and misleading. If liberation from want and liberation f rom domination are to be achieved in all societies, then demystification of domination must be simultaneous with the efforts of economic development and not subsequent to them. Marxist as well as liberal orthodoxy denies that this simul­ taneity is either desirable or possible.

Introduction 43 The chapters that follow make a modest effort at demonstrating only a few of these general concerns. The next chapter examines the patriarchal-patrimonial base of the rural polity in historical and contemporary Maharashtra. From the analysis of survey data, a picture of socioeconomic and cultural life emerges, dominated by the Maratha elite. This sociocultural domination is transmitted to democratic politics through the electoral process. The third chapter examines some political variables of politicization on which the pluralist argument rests and tries to demonstrate, using behavioural techniques of pluralist analysis, that democratic institutions and their policy outputs tend to cumulate privilege in the hands of the elite. This becomes glaringly obvious when we separate the elites from the population and examine the salient aspects of politicization for each, as is done in the fourth chapter. We see how democratic structures, defined as public, are managed by the ruling class through the use of a personal rulership strategy. Chapters 4 and 5 show how the rural elite identifies politics with a bargaining arena for the fulfilment of its own exclusive interests, which do not allow for a good and just life for all. 25 The image of politics and the politician created by the ruling class is that of an efficient operation governed by the principles of work-rationality. The behavioural manifestations of this image are described in the fifth chapter. The analysis is presented in the form of two case studies of which the focal point is Y.B. Chavan, who was one of the two most important figures in the federal cabinet of Indira Gandhi. Chavan provides a link between state and national politics. All these chapters focus on rulers, the impact of whose activity on the bottom half of the population can be observed only indirectly. The fact that the lower classes cannot occupy the centre of the study reflects the fact that prospects for a major transformation in contemporary lndia are slim. Discussion of the revolutionary potential of the working classes - urban and rural - normally fails to comprehend the complex myth-making apparatus created and sustained by a hegemonic ruling elite (Gough and Sharma, 1973). The persistence of poverty and underdevelopment is not in itself a generator of consciousness. Nor is affluence. Sporadic spurts of diffuse collective behaviour, increasing acts of diviance such as crimes against persons and property, or the growth of corruption are not the harbingers of the class consciousness of the urban proletariat. Similar conclusions must apply to the activities of those landless labourers or tenants who have been on the fringe of the patriarchal-patrimonial rural organization, notably the

44 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule heterogeneous tribal groups in Naxalbari and Andhra. Recognition of the futility of their politics and a reanalysis of the mythical character of democracy and development in India go together. The crucial question is that of the simultaneity of effort against want and domination; we return to it in the final chapter. Primarily this is a book on Maharashtra politics. But it is also a book on politics in general, because an analysis of Maharashtra politics would be incomplete without general concern about politics and human freedom. The incompleteness of the discussion in part reflects the inadequacy of contemporary political analysis in general. I have therefore tried to develop an agenda for a new political sociology, for a general approach to politics, for a frame­ work for a creative politics. Having presented a rough sketch of the over-all tasks of a critical political sociology, we now proceed to address ourselves to one small but major detail within that framework.

2 Kinship, Village, and the Maratha Hegemony

A detailed critique of pluralist politics must accomplish two tasks: identifying and describing the hegemonic elite that treats politics as a bargaining arena and examining the rulership strategies of the elite in maintaining its legitimation. This chapter therefore presents a brief history of the growth of Maratha hegemony and its contemporary manifestations and discusses the strategic use of patriarchal and patrimonial loyalties for maintaining domination. The idea of community is an important element in the cultural order disseminated by the ruling elite in India. 1 The sanctity of the ancient village communities, claimed to be harmonious and equit­ able, has become the justification for the hegemonic rule by the landowning castes. Even historians, in trying to explain the current state of factionalism, often blame it on the ravages of British rule. The policy-makers extol the virtue of village life and demand the reconstruction of the village economy and society. It is extremely difficult, therefore, to find in the literature a critical analysis of the development of the patterns of domination and their contemporary manifestations.? The first part of this chapter tries to reconstruct the history of the village communities in order to trace the origins and the continuity of the hegemony of the elite Marathas. In the second part specific social structural aspects of Maharashtra villages are described. In the last two sections the structural and hegemonic aspects will be related to contemporary, ongoing patterns of inter­ action. Using data derived from an intensive survey of 730 sampled villagers from five districts of Maharashtra, we examine the role of kinship and caste in the social, economic, and political life of the villages as well as the extra-village patterns of interaction and their relevance for the political system. Finally, two case studies

46 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule of the panchayat elections illustrate the role of the elite Maratha hegemony in factional politics. ON THE HEGEMONIC CONSCIOUSNESS OF THE MARATHA ELITE

The originc; of the Maratha hegemony have to be reconstructed from scanty evidence. The Rathas (or the Maharathas) were probably a Northern settler tribe that first came to the region. Several tribes spun off from the Rathas and settled in villages, changing from food-gathering to agriculture. Eventually, they formed dynasties (Altekar, 1927; Sardesai, 1946). Kosambi sets the early settlement period in the second half of the sixth century ec (1962, I I I). At an early stage of settlement the original tribes grew larger with the rise of the agricultural surplus and split into subtribes and families which began to settle new areas and created networks of villages. In the initial stages at least, most of these sub­ tribes (the Satavahanas, Bhojas, Kadambas, Silaharas, Yadavas, Chalukyas, Rashtrakutas, Paramars, and so on) were linked by fairly close kinship ties. Their links with the leaders of the village settlements were also traceable to kinship bonds. The pattern of loyalty between the village elite and the regional chieftains must have been for a long time genuinely patriarchal in character (Sardesai, 1946). The tribal chieftainships emerged and prevailed in the Maharashtra region during and after the period of agricultural settlement until the time of the Mauryan conquest (270 BC). The villages were settled primarily by the members of these clans. The patriarchs of the most influential families became the headmen (Altekar, 1927). The development of trade from the north propelled some of the tribal chieftains with standing armies and regular taxes into claims to absolute monarchy. The need thus arose for much more explicit legitimation of the rulers than had been neces­ sary before. Direct patriarchal links with the village headman had been sufficient for claiming part of the productive surplus from settled agriculture. Now individuals had to justify their claims to the traders and kings of the North. The rise of Brahmin domination in the South may have come directly through the legitimation needs of the once-tribal chieftains who sought kingship status. By the middle of the fourth century AD some of the chieftains had become local kings through rituals and ceremonies specially designed by the Brahmins for this purpose (Kosambi, 1955).

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 47 It can be surmised without much difficulty that these major chieftainships, some of which became dynasties, were the begin­ nings of the contemporary Maratha clans and of their hegemonic domination and an alliance with the Brahmins. Many of the local tribes had not developed military organizations but had turned into craft guilds or castes, adapting to the dominant settlers and becoming part of the urban or rural economy. 3 They shared neither kinship origins nor cultural traditions with the Northern tribes. However, under the relations of economic dependence and with the Brahmins' ideological ingenuity, their cultural symbols and beliefs also found accommodation within the Hindu tradition. Hierarchy, which originated in economic dependence, received a cultural sanction and was incorporated into the elaborate symbols of ritual interdependence. In spite of the scanty evidence and the problems of determining the exact time periods, the pattern of emergence of the elite Maratha hegemony becomes quite clear. The villages became differentiated at relatively early stages of settlement because of the accommoda­ tions reached with the conquered or unarmed local tribes. The dominant lineage within a village was the one closely related to a chieftain by kinship ties. Its patriarch became the headman fpatil] of the village. The poorer or the distant kin in the village accepted his patriarchal status and gave him their loyalty and a predeter­ mined share of their surplus. While patriarchal ties linked the lineages of the dominant caste, a new form of patrimonialism evolved which maintained domination over the craftsmen and the serfs. Tradition became a strategy of rulership, a way of makjng craftsmen and helpless serfs accept their dependency, mystified as a reciprocity based on custom. Since the village was not a real consensual community of shared tradition, the consequent reduc­ tion in exploitation that Weber (1968, 1010-11) posited was not accomplished. Instead, the community became a myth from the beginning of the village settlements. The long process of stabiliza­ tion included accommodation with the beliefs, deities, and cults of the conquered tribes. However, no changes in the hierarchy of the relations of production were found to be necessary. Balutedari, a variant of the jajmani system, became the way of organizing the relations of production. Dependent castes were assigned specific service functions and rewarded by the landowners with a predetermined share in the harvest. Whether the actual share in the harvest was exploitative of the servants is less important than the fact that the balutedars, the servants themselves. did not

48 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule view the system as exploitative (Orenstein, 1962; Mandelbaum, 1970). Even today, when cash payments have replaced most tradi­ tional arrangements, the ritual interdependence between the landowners and the balutedars continues to be stressed. It softens the exploitative character of the relationship between the dominant Maratha elites and their dependents. For some time the lineages of the chieftains were linked by genuine kinship ties, and even though they occasionally fought each other their relationships were governed by the patriarchal tradition. This pattern must have changed, however, when alien rulers, such as the Muslims of the Bahamani period, became the rulers. The efforts of the few Maratha chieftains who tried to acquire dynastic status and to create their own empires failed when the Muslim conquests began towards the end of the tenth century (Sardesai, 1946). Most of the chieftains had not tried to create political kingdoms, nor could they have succeeded. All of them eventually became 'tributory overlords' of the Muslims; their interests were best served by creating a relationship of accom­ modation with the new rulers (Stein, 1969). The Muslim rulers themselves obviously could not invoke tradition to legitimize their rule. Hence, the pattern of personal rulerships between the Muslim kings and the Maratha overlords became fully established. The loyalty of the chieftains had to be gained through personal material rewards. In turn, the chieftains used their traditional links with the village headmen to secure their part of the surplus. Had this mutually supportive relationship created by the early Muslim kings not been violated by their more fanatically religious successors, the history of the Marathas would have probably followed a different course. One possible conjecture about an alternate direction for the course of history can be made on the basis of the Bhakti movement. Even though there was some regional turmoil due to the feuds between chieftains, the villages had remained relatively untouched, except through the meditations of the headmen. The patriarchal­ patrimonial system had found its basic strength in the internal organization of the kinship groups. The villagers, caught in depend­ ence based on an imposed 'tradition,' must have turned to their own kin for community and consensuality. The patriarchal kinship unit, and not the village, became the focal point of social interaction, while it also provided the patrimonial rulers with a model for stabilizing their domination. But at the same time the village, in spite of its strong patrimonial superstructure, was essentially the

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 49 unil of political economy. The Brahmin-generated rituals were mostly associated with inter-caste relations. Each caste retained its own system of beliefs and rituals adminis­ tered through strong caste councils (Kosambi, 1969, 50-1 ). The Bhakti movement (Macnicol, 1915, 120-6) began as a revolt against the superiority claims of the Brahmins. Its first exponents were Brahmins who rebelled because of 'some stains in their inherited purity' (Ranade, 1961, 81). They were joined by a spectacular array of poets and exponents of rebellious ideas from a number of dependent castes. These challenges to Brahmanic interpretations of the relations between man and God were heeded by large seg­ ments of the dependent castes. Had this challenge matured into its fullest implications it might have engulfed the false patrimonia­ lism of the Maratha elite along with its Brahmanic legitimation. The decline of the Muslim kingdoms of the region and the assaults of the Northern Moguls provided at least one of the Maratha chief­ tains with an opportunity to create a dynastic empire. Fluctuations in the fortunes of the Muslim regimes were reflected in rapid shifts in the loyalties of the Maratha chiefs, held to them by nothing but material rewards. These movements further exacerbated the political uncertainty characterizing the entire region during the sixteenth century. At the same lime there existed a state of unrest in the countryside against the attempts of Islamic proselytization by the Mogul armies (Sen, 1958). Shivaji, who had inherited the territory around Poona from his father, used these uncertainties and fears in the cause of his ambition for founding an independent state. His efforts were naturally looked upon with suspicion by the other Maratha chieftains and by their Brahmin allies. The latter refused to recognize him as a Kshatriya. Much like the other chiefs he used the strategy of personal ruler­ ship and made all sorts of military and marital alliances. He even joined hands with the Moguls to defeat other local chiefs (Sardesai, 1946). Into his own army he recruited hundreds of low-caste peasants and artisans whose loyalty was secured with promises of religious and economic security and just rule (Sen, 1958). The prospects of booty from ransacking enemy territories were no less auractive, of course, given the near starvation imposed by one of the worsl famines of the century (Kulkarni, 1969; Braudel, 1973). Shivaji successfully rode the rising tide of religious populism. In the face of the growing danger of Islam he was able to reassert the hegemonic alliance between lhe Marathas and the Brahmins. The growing populist attack of the lower castes had been redirected

50 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule away from the established ritual and the political elites towards the Northern invaders. Shivaji insisted on being called 'the protector of the cow and the Brahmin,' in spite of the Brahmin opposition to his coronation. He appointed several Brahmins as senior advisers and administrators. In order to overcome the initial resistance of the major Maratha chieftains and possible rejection as sovereign by the dependent population, he needed legitimation based on ritual and tradition. The Bhakti movement during Shivaji's ascen­ dance, instead of becoming the harbinger of a new society, became a stabilizer of tradition. The lower-caste poets asked their followers to take pride in their traditional occupations and to seek salvation through hard work. 'We are the barbers who shave very smoothly; we cut the nails of greed and anger' said a barber poet with pride (Karve, 1962, 21). What was hailed as the beginning of a reformation (Ranade, 1961, 69-92) transformed itself into a cult. 'The revulsion against social injustice' was not 'translated into action' but remained 'as mere platitudes in the verses of the saints' (see Karve, 1962, 21). The Maratha hegemony was re-established and strengthened at alJ levels in Shivaji's kingdom. Whether Shivaji played a conscious role in the diversion of populism is not the question at issue. The outcome of his rise to power was clearly the stabilization of the old village order and the regional system of tax collection, a system jointly run by the Maratha and Brahmin elites (Kulkarni, 1969). The later decline of the house ofShivaji and the effective takeover of power by the house of the Brahmin prime minister (peshwa) did not alter the basic pattern of village and regional authority. The peshwas did introduce their own Brahmin mamlatdars, trusted and loyal supporters of the regime, to supervise tax collection, but the patils and the deshmukhs remained an alternate channel of protection for the villagers (Kumar, 1968, 12-16). The patrimonial authority of the Marathas must have increased under this system. However, a patii household could sell all or part of its rights (Mann, 1967, 128-38). This practice and the desire of the deshmukhs and the peshwas to increase their spheres of loyalty contributed to factional struggles within and between the elite Maratha lineages. The factional rivalries between the dominant Maratha lineages increased substantially during the early years of the British rule. The patils and deshmukhs were turned into salaried employees of the regime (Omvedt, 1973). The factional rivalries as well as the stringent revenue demands of the regime led to increased indeb­ tedness among the Maratha elite. The Deccan riots of 1875 occurred within tnis context. They have been interpreted as revealing great

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 51 social and economic unrest among the peasantry. In fact, the dominant Maratha lineages with large landholdings were the leaders (Catanach, 1970, 21-2). They had the best credit (Charles­ worth, 1972, 403). The subsistence farmer still operated within the traditional mould of patrimonial obligations. As a reaction against indebtedness, the Deccan riots were led by patil lineages in the elite Maratha heartland of Poona, Ahmednagar, and Satara. The patils were threatened by the increasing dominance of the alien commercial castes. The riots were aimed primarily at the money lenders some of whom were Brahmins. They spread from village to village with remarkable speed. They showed the strong networks of interaction and a shared sense of rulership among the Maratha elite. The elders from Kallas, for example, rebuked the ones from Akola for not joining. The recalcitrants were threa­ tened with ostracism (Kumar, 1968, 185-6). The Deccan riots are discussed here only as a minor, overt, expression of the hegemonic consciousness of the Maratha elite. They did not culminate in a regional reassertion equivalent to Shivaji's accession to power. The British insensitivity towards the basic patterns of traditional legitimation had already caused a substantial decline in the Maratha hegemony. A large civil and revenue administration had been created, and Brahmins mono­ polized the middle and lower ranks. The alien traders had penetrated the agricultural markets. Above all, the new British laws of property were used by both the Brahmins and the traders against the tradi­ tional rulers of the village society. The temporary amelioration of the debtors' grievances did not change the new forms of domi­ nation. While most of the village population was not affected, for the dominant, surplus-producing Maratba the educated urban Brahmin was no longer an ally in legitimizing his rulership but had gradually turned into a formidable rival. The reaction developed only slowly. Ironically, its pioneer was Phule, a low-caste Mali, educated by the English missionaries. He started the Satyashodhak Samaj ('Truth-Seeking Society', aimed at reducing Brahmin dominance in education, politics, and religion) in 1873. He exposed the exploitative nature of Brahminism and the pretensions of the elite Marathas (Omvedt, 1971). He had only a few followers, and their symbolic performance of rituals without priests was often ridiculed by the village elite (Latthe, 1924, 373). About 1920, Shahu, the Raja of Kolhapur, angered by the Brahmin refusal to accord him 'twice-born' status, took up the cause of the anti-Brahmin movement. In Sbahu, the

52 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule Maratha elite found a strong regional leader to whom the British regime accorded due respect (Copland, 1973). The other middle and lower castes became the new allies of the elite Marathas. The anti-Brahmin movement developed as a parallel to the nationalist movement led by urban Brahmins. At first the anti­ Brahmin leaders correctly analysed the source of Brahmin domi­ nation in Western education and hence concentrated on enlarging educational opportunities. Shahu took an active role, travelling across the province to encourage educational activities in other states as well (Latthe, 1924). The British administrators with good reason spoke confidently about the rejection of nationalists by the 'fine leaders of a sturdy peasantry' (Catanach, 1970, 146). The Maratha elite ignored the nascent nationalist movement and worked in support of the British regime. The new local governments and co-operatives were taken over by the Maratha elite and made part of their structure of domination (Ibid; Ghurye, 1961, 191: Rosenthal, 1970a, 42). The impact of the anti-Brahmin movement on the life of the rural masses was minimal. By accepting other lower castes as allies the Maratha elite did open for them some avenues of education and advancement in the urban centres. But for most of the poorer Marathas, the middle castes, and the scheduled castes, these opportunities were remote and expensive. However, the movement succeeded on three fronts: it increased the solidarity of the depen­ dent castes with the Maratha e)jte; it frustrated the efforts of the nationalist Brahmins to penetrate the rural masses; and it created a new, educated, regional leadership in the rural areas and small towns which facilitated the elite Maratha entry into the urban middle class and bureaucracy. The new solidarity between the Marathas and the dependent castes did not start a social revolution. It was not directed against all privilege. It merely reaffirmed the 'reference group' status of the Maratha caste. The number of those who called themselves Marathas increased rapidly without raising their economic, political, or social status. With the rise of a mass-based nationalist movement under Gandhi the capture of power appeared to be on the horizon in the thirties. Many of the Maratha elite entered the Congress Party at this stage. Jedhe came from a traditional deshmukh lineage (Kulkarni, 1969, 68) and a wealthy family in Poona. Active in the anti-Brahmin movement in the twenties, in 1929 he and several others like him joined the Congress Party. In 1932 he became vice-president of

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 53 the Maharashtra Pradesh Congress Committee. During the war years Jedhe started a Peasants League within the Congress Party, ostensibly to gain support for the Nationalist cause. It was seen as a challenge to the Brahmin leadership. Between 1920 and 1946 the number of elite Marathas within the Congress Party grew rapidly (Rosenthal, 1970a, 316). However, the provincial leader­ ship remained in the hands of a Brahmin {Kher) and a Gujarathi (Morarji Desai) who had direct ties with the national leadership. In 1946 they rejected Jedhe's recommendations for the cabinet posts from Maharashtra and precipitated the resignations of elite Maratha leaders such as Jedhe, More, Wagh, and Jadhav (Rosenthal, 1970a; Kale, 1969, 20-2). The rise and fall of their Peasants and Workers Party (PwP) can be seen as another example of the hegemonic nature of the elite Marathas' aspirations. Born of dissatisfaction with the urban non-Maratha leadership, the party used Marxist language, but its appeal was directed mainly at the Maratha peasant-proprietors. For this reason the Socialists and the Republicans (a party of Untouchables) were unwilling to form alliances (Rosenthal, 1970a; Kogekar and Park, 1956, 31-44). The strength of the PWP appeal for the Maratha elite was reflected in its electoral success in 1952; only four years after its start, the party emerged as the major opposition to the Congress Party, winning twenty-three seats in the state legislature. If the claims of nearly total Maratha domination of the rural scene are correct, the question arises why the elite Maratha party failed to gain a total victory. In fact its share in the total vote was less than 9 per cent. It lost eighty seats out of the I 03 it contested, and thirty-two of its candidates lost their deposits (Baxter, 1969), while the Congress Party won its usual share of votes and a comfort­ able majority. The answer to this puzzle does not contradict but reveals the nature ofMaratha hegemony. When the more prominent Maratha leaders deserted the Congress Party, its leadership came into the hands of two young and ambitiousMarathas. One of them, Y.B. Chavan, was a product of the educational programs started by the anti- Brahmin movement. A man of modest family back­ ground, he saw an opportunity for rapid political advancement and stayed with the Congress Party in spite of pressure from his former allies and made mammoth efforts to stem the PWP tide. Chavan emphasized national issues and Nehru's leadership as assets, but above all, he said, 'ours was a party in power, we could

54 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule go around and talk to them; try to help them in difficult matters, so in a course of a year and a half I think we swamped them' (personal interview, 1971 ). Under the euphemism of 'help in difficult matters' was hidden the power of patronage, a strategy of personal rulership. After I 952 Chavan moved closer to the centre of state power. The Community Development Program. started in 1952, had begun by I 957 to bring into the rural areas substantial public resources whose desirability and potency was felt by the rural Maratha elite. Chavan's success in Maharashtra politics is primarily based on his ability to provide the Maratha elite with control over access to the most valued public resources. These 'opportunity structures' (Rosenthal, 1970a. 26) in the form of local governments, co­ operatives, and educational institutions gained him the loyalty of the hegemonic Maratha elite. Even the stalwarts of the PWP were pursuaded to return to the Congress Party. Chavan success­ fully resolved for them the dilemma whether to reassert dominance through an opposition party and risk the loss of access to public resources or to safeguard access to patronage through the Congress Party. Chavan, like Shivaji in his own times, was at first rebuffed as an upstart by the dominant Marathas; eventually they recognized his control over valued resources and joined him in alliances. Under Chavan the regional hegemony of the Maratha elite was once again established and became fully entrenched. The democratic form of government became another strategy of rulership. 4 This brief outline of the development of Maratha hegemony puts contemporary political processes into a historical perspective. Pluralist analyses of rural politics in Maharasbtra ignore this historical dimension. The continuity of tradition is generally treated as a transitional process, considered either as an obstacle to or as an accelerator of political modernization but never as an aspect in itself of the modernity of the ruling classes. In reality this con­ tinuity constitutes precisely the public-private dialectic within which hegemonic rulers and their legitimation strategies function. It is commonly assumed that the Marathas dominate under the democratic regime because of their numbers. Without drawing on Maratha history it is difficult to explain the structural inequality within that caste and between its elites and the other dependent castes or to understand the nature of solidarity between the elite and the deprived Marathas. A look into history shows that the numerical strength of the Marathas bas itself been a function of the rulership strategy of the elite.

Kinship, Village aod the Maratba Hegemony 55 SOCIAL STRUCTURE OF THE VILLAGE

Using sample survey data based on interviews of citizens and village leaders, this section presents a description of the socio­ economic structure of Maharashtra villages. Supporting evidence from other sources is also used to develop the classification presented in the first chapter. The Marathas The historical development of the relationship between the elite Maratbas and other residents of the village bas been described. We have called this a hegemonic relationship and have described the nature of dominance as patriarchal and patrimonial. Patriar­ cbalism is restricted to the relationships between members of an extended kinship unit. For the purposes of interaction the entire caste can be treated as an extended kinship unit, according to Karve, including all people who can be shown to be related to one another, directly or indirectly, by affinal or agnatic ties (1961, 17). For the elite Marathas this opens up the possibility of absorb­ ing the elements of the non-elite segments of the caste at will and whenever advantageous. Such an extension of kinship ties is in practice highly selective and not too frequent. Preference is given to those of an equal or higher traditional rank when establishing marital ties. However, unlike many other castes the Maratba elite do not have a formal organization to ensure conformity and to maintain internal integrity (Orenstein, 1963). Because of their practice of making, disbanding, and rearranging alliances, the boundaries of their unit of identity have been flexible (Sen, 1958, 8). The flexibility should not be mistaken for a lack of a sense of soli­ darity. It simply keeps open the possibility of lucrative alliances. This flexibility can be observed through the centuries of Maratha history, facilitating patriarcbalism in the relationship between the elite Maratbas and the others who also design ate themselves Maratbas. It also assists shifts from patrimonial to patriarchal ties with other agriculturist castes which are seeking a Maratha identity. The elite Maratha hegemony rests on this cultural domination which sustains hierarchy with some prospects of upward mobility. This belief comes to be shared by both the privileged and the subordinate. Those who do eventually rise within the hierarchy develo.i,> a strong vested interest in keeping the others in place. An example of the alliance strategy is the case of the Kunbis. As a result of the conscious effort started by the elite Marathas in

56 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule the twenties, a large mass of this caste claimed Maratha status. Though successful in getting themselves called Marathas in the census reports, they have not been accepted by the elite Marathas into their kinship structure or into the related sharing of privilege (Karve, 196 l , 46). Village studies often mention the dominance of the elite Marathas and their refusal to accept non-elite Marathas such as the Kunbis into their kinship structure (Ghurye, 1960; Karve and Damle, l 963). At the village level elite Marathas can be usually identified as those who belong to the lineages within which once the pa1ilki and deshmukhi rights were vested (sPS, 1963, 81). Although privilege, a composite of wealth, power, and rank, tends to be cumulative, its constitutive elements can be independen­ tly manipulated. Each of them is capable of translation into another; of the three, however, rank is by far the most difficult to attain. In India it is closely tied to caste, which in turn rests on kinship. In spite of the fluctuations in their fortunes in terms of wealth and power, the elite Marathas have been able to retain their hegemony through the flexibility of their caste boundaries. Other agricultural castes such as the Kunbis, the Malis, and the Dhangars have succeeded in producing wealthy individuals, but their acceptance within the Maratha hierarchy has been highly selective. In the literature on rural Maharashtra there is a tendency to ignore the distinction between elite Marathas and newer arrivals such as the Kunbis. Hegemonic consciousness of the elite Marathas has not been studied in depth. The lack of organized caste councils and the flexible boundaries have been interpreted as an indication of a nebulousness and lack of consciousness of the boundaries (Orenstein. 1963). For a full and convincing analysis of elite Maratha domination, detailed ethnographic studies of their lineages and their political activities are required, but such works are quite rare (Karve, 1965, 174-94; Carter, 1974). Our data, mainly sample surveys, are not capable of showing in detail how the dominance is exercised. The categories used during data collection and the emphasis on elective public offices made that task rather difficult. Still, a disporportionately large percentage of the elite Marathas were shown to be in the higher levels of social, economic, and political positions. The sample of fifty villages from five districts of Maharashtra included several villages with majority concentrations and domina­ tion of the lower castes (e.g., Mahars, Vanjaris, and even Muslims). In spite of this, over 65.5 per cent of the leaders were found to be

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 57 TABLE I

II 2 (38.4) NOTE:

x1

(44.()

P

Marathas, and of these nearly 65 per cent were identified as having

patilki or deshmukhi lineages. More than 85 per cent of the Maratha

leaders earned over 1200 rupees a year. A comparison of socioeconomic characteristics between village leaders and citizens shows that the Marathas have a dispropor­ tionate share in leadership positions, with the elite Marathas predominating. This can be seen from a comparison between the Maratha leaders and the Maratha citizens. Over 85 per cent of the Maratha leaders have an income of over 1200 rupees as against only 35 per cent of the Maratha voters (Table l ). A similar pattern can be observed in education, a major avenue for rapid upward mobility in developing countries (Coleman, 1968). In India the rapid expansion of educational institutions into ruraJ areas has created an impression that access to education is now wide open to all sectors of the population. Recent evidence suggests that this has not been the case; in fact the lowest income groups have not had open access to these institutions (Bhagwati, 1973). In Maharashtra the elite Marathas recognized the value of education even before independence, a fact noted earlier. A comparison between the village leaders and the voters on education also re­ veals the pattern of elite Maratha dominance (Table 2). This disparity between the Maratha village leaders and citizens

58 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule TABLE 2

(39.5)

P = = forms the basis of our differentiation between the elite and non­ elite Marathas within the village population. (The data for the citizens come from a random sample of the voters; the village leaders were selected from the same areas but on the basis of posi­ tions in the governmental structures and reputation). Within the sample of 730 voters, nearly 50 per cent identified themselves as Marathas, and they have been divided into two categories, High and Low, on the basis of income and education. High Marathas may be assumed to constitute a pool from which recruitment for leadership positions takes place. In this category are included all Marathas whose income is greater than 1200 rupees and who have more than two years' education. The two criteria are interrelated, reflecting the state policy of treating those with an income of less than 1200 rupees as underprivileged and therefore eligible for educational subsidies. Since education beyond the level of mere literacy involves a financial strain and frequently a need to com­ mute, it is assumed that the benefits of even primary education are more likely to accrue to the elite groups (see Bhagwati, 1973). The proposed division between the High and Low Marathas should not be interpreted as a clear demarcation between the elites and the citizens. The High Marathas are essentially constituted of two elements: those who can be identified as dominant elite and those who aspire to elite positions on the basis of their nearness in rank and wealth to the existing elites. Of the High Marathas with

NOTF.:

1

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 59 incomes over 2000 rupees, equivalent to over 50 per cent of the village leaders but only 17 per cent of the total population, at least 53 per cent were from patil or deshmukh lineages. Similarly, of those with education of over five years at least 48 per cent had an elite background. Thus over half of the High Marathas are likely to be in the recruitment pool. Granted there are inherent difficulties in using income and education as determinants of elite status, nevertheless such a classi­ fication provides the best approximation under the limitations of the data. It is consistent with the other evidence available on the rural social structure and the historical analysis of the hegemonic domination of the elite Marathas. In terms of our model of faction­ alliance-patronage, the High Marathas constitute a class of popula­ tion within which competitive pluralist politics is contained. In terms of the strategy-of-rulership thesis, they constitute the patriar­ chal inner core of the patriarchal-patrimonial strategy. The Maratha elite of the dominant lineages interact on the basis of extended kinship loyalties and rivalries. If and when they deem it desirable, they incorporate some segments of the pool of non-elites into the interaction systems. While the aspirants desire and work towards their own rapid rise in terms of privilege, they simultaneously exclude all others from access to the sources of privilege. The Low Marathas find themselves within the same general framework of aspiration and hierarchy, sharing the sense of cultural dominance with the High Marathas. But they are caught in a bind. They share only one attribute with the High Marathas, namely, caste. They are not part of the patriarchal inner core of the factional organiza­ tion. They are, at the same time, the unlikely partners of the deprived lower castes with whom they have a great deal in common, including a lack of wealth and power. The upper castes

The last section touched upon the rise and fall of the Brahmins and the alien trading and moneylending castes in the rural power structure. In contrast with the Low Marathas, the Brahmins, Gujaratis, Marwaris, and the members of other upper castes are more often in non-agricultural occupations and small businesses than in cultivation. They are usually better educated than other citizens and tend to have higher incomes. None of these attributes, however, give them the hegemonic dominance. The nearly total eclipse of the upper castes from democratic politics in Maharashtra

60 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule came after independence, but it had begun with the Satyashodhak Movement (Rosenthal, 1970a; Omvedt, 1971). In most villages upper-caste households are few. The temporary political ascendence of some of these families is still remembered, but their contemporary influence is totally insignificant (SPS, 1963). Their decline demons­ trates the importance of hegemony and shows that wealth and education by themselves are not adequate resources for rulership. The upper castes, mindful of their weakness in this respect, take on non-controversial roles and seek to identify with the dominant factions within the village or remain politically neutral. The middle castes The castes included in this group (mostly the traditional balutedars such as the Sutar, Lohar, Sonar, Shimpi, and Parit) are similar to the upper castes in some respects and to the Low Marathas in olhers. This category includes some agriculturist castes such as the Malis and Dhangars but not the scheduled castes (the ex­ untouchables). While some traditional occupations have declined because of changes in the external economy (e.g. Sonar and Kumbhar), other traditional skills are still practised (such as those of Sutars and Lohars). Those who have lost their traditional skills have mostly become tenants or labourers or have moved away to the cities (Bramhe, 1973). Malis and Dhangars on the other hand have often succeeded in entering cultivation and have become prosperous, a fact that explains the rather wide occupational dispersion of thls category (see Table 3). They have been grouped together because of their relationship to the elite Marathas. Those middle castes which have become economically independent still aspire for the elite Maratha status. This reference-group orientation makes them the allies of the elite Maratha faction leaders in the villages where they are not dominant. The same reference-group orientation prevails even in the villages where middle castes are both wealthy and numerous (Orenstein, 1965). Hostility, as described earlier, takes the form of ressenti­ ment if and where competition develops. Over those middle castes which have lost their traditional skills the elite Marathas continue to hold economic dominance. There are villages of course in which the traditional rulership rests with non-Maratha lineages, but such situations are not very common. Where they do exist, the lineages of that specific caste usually have the attributes of the elite Marathas. The Marathas are usually a minority and tend to behave like the

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 6 l

I

II

(I (1.7)

(9.8)

59

55

= P= upper castes in the Maratha-dominant villages (Orenstein, 1965). Given the over-all regional hegemony of the Marathas, such middlecaste elites have little choice but to collaborate with them. This pattern will become obvious when we study a village in which a Muslim lineage occupies the dominant position. NOTE:

2

Mahars and the other scheduled castes

The scheduled castes form the majority of the castes in total dependence on the elite Marathas, excluding the Low Marathas. They formed more than 14 per cent of the rural population in Maharashtra in 1971 and over 23 per cent in the sample. Of the latter nearly 11 per cent were Mahars and over 12 per cent from other scheduled castes. In a recent survey of the scheduled castes in the various parts of Maharashtra, over 64 per cent were found to be landless labourers. Of those who owned land, more than 75 per cent had less than five acres. On the whole the scheduled castes were observed to be involved primarily in agricultural labour or in the traditional menial occupations under balutedari (Gare and Limaye, 1973, 170). The scheduJed castes are generally highly dependent on the agriculturists for livelihood and accept the hegemonic domination of the elite Marathas without serious revolt. The Mahars are in a certain sense an exception to this unques-

62 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule tioned acceptance of dependence. Even in the context of balutedari their traditional occupation was of service to the village elite. As menial servants they were assigned a number of responsibilities; they were in charge of guarding the boundaries of the fields and acted as village messengers, guides to strangers, and watchmen. As a result of their contacts they had from an early stage developed a consciousness of their separate status and an orientation to the outside world (Mann, 1967; Miller, 1967). In addition, they were responsible for cleaning the village meeting hall, the cattlesheds, and the yards of the elite homes. They lived in settlements away from the rest of the village and had to use segregated wells. As village servants they either had inam lands or balura shares in the harvest. Some Mahars have retained small parcels of inam lands, but these are often given to tenants. Since Mahars did not have any skills other than those of menial servants, the decline of the village services has deprived most of them of their traditional livelihood. Many have entered work outside the villages. They have been the major recipients of the special educational facilities offered since independence (Brahme, 1973, 1-14). The Mahars produced an exceptionally talented leader in Dr Ambedkar (1891-1956) who understood the plight of the scheduled castes and attempted to create a sense of militancy among them. The response to his organizational call came primarily from the Mahars. Ambedkar saw the basic problem in the elite Maratha dominance as legitimated by the Varna-Jati ideology. Jn order to overthrow the patriarchal-patrimonial hegemony of the village elite, Ambedkar issued a call to all the scheduled castes to renounce Hinduism, which legitimized the oppressive social arrangements of rural life. He held a symbolic conversion to Buddhism in 1956 in which hundreds of thousands of Mahars participated. However, neither his earlier efforts at reformism within the Hindu system nor his symbolic break with it have provided Mahars with the complete 'ideological disconnection from the system' that was hoped for (Miller, 1967, 641). Though technically they became Buddhists, they could not discard their economic, political, and ritual dependence. Conscious of this dependence, they still live under fear of and oppression from the elite Marathas (Gare and Limaye, 1973). The picture is only slightly different where the scheduled castes have both an independent source of livelihood and sufficiently large concentrations of popula­ tion. The elite Maratha leadership has been willing to form temporary alliances with their leaders in the pursuit of power.

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 63 The major examples of these alliances are in the urban centres, as for example in Nagpur (Wirsing, 1973). Many of the educated rural Mahars, on the other hand are virtually lumpenproletariat, unwilling to return to the land as labour and unable to find other employment. They are also incapable of organizing a sustained revolt or forming beneficial alliances with the elite. The cultural order which emphasizes hierarchy also adversely affects the relation­ ship of the various scheduled castes with each other; kinship and caste solidarity make the recognition of shared interests impossible (Bramhe, 1973). Our analysis of the structural aspects of the socioeconomic life of the Maharashtrian village, based on studies done by others and on our own survey data, contradicts the assumption of a communal and relatively undifferentiated rural life. The ideology of a harmonious and equitable village community is reflected in the policies of the government with respect to rural development. The elite Maratha control of the development machine is considered to be a democratic triumph of the peasantry over the urban and alien groups. The Maratha elite holds and incorporates this image of the peasant community in its ideology. Given the structured inequality between the elites and the masses, such an ideology obviously serves the purpose of justifying domination, a relationship which perpetuates itself through all the major domains of inter­ action. PATTERNS OF INTERACTION: DOMINANCE AND DEPENDENCE

We have seen that historically the village has not been the basis of a consensual community but a unit of political economy. Kin­ ship and caste are the main units of consensuality and provide the model for the patriarchal-patrimonial legitimation. This section shows how, through interaction, the patterns of domination and dependence are maintained. We have identified three major areas of interaction [occupational, financial, and familial] and added to them the dimension of electoral choice. Voting is the only political act in a democratic society open equally to all citizens, though its implications and meaning are not discussed in this chapter. Data on consultation with respect to voting is presented here to show how new interactional requirements become absorbed within the existing patterns. In response to all the questions on sources of help, the answers

64 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

(7.4)

(6.0)

II

(

II

54

CIOO.Ol

demonstrated the overwhelming importance of kinship and caste (Table 4). The self-sufficiency of a family unit declines first at points of economic interaction. In this broad sense of the term the village is a primarily political unit. Nearly 45 per cent of the respondents go outside the family in financial matters, and nearly 43 per cent do so in matters of occupation. Given the village social structure, this means a continuing relationship of dependence for the needed services on the caste leaders, village officials, landlords, employers, moneylenders, and politically sponsored institutions. Since elite Marathas dominate most of these avenues the pattern of dependence needs little comment. The dependence on kin itself has different significance for different castes. For example, under conditions of financial distress a poor person can receive support from his kin only if the latter happens to be capable of giving it. Since caste operates as an extended kin group, families with rich caste members are in a different position from lhose without affluent households. This places the Low Marathas in a different category from the other less-privileged castes. Like the upper castes, the Low Marathas depend much more heavilv on their kin for financial help than do

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 65 5

5

I

I

I

I

II

5

5

I

133 NOTE:

2

=

=

P

=

the other dependent castes (Table 5). The Low Marathas remain within the patriarchal framework of dominance, while the other dependent castes are nearer to patrimonial ties. The Mahars, the other scheduled castes, and the middle castes are more dependent on landlords, moneylenders, employers, and other organizations dominated by the elite Marathas. The same respondents, examined in terms of their occupations and incomes, bring out the pattern of dependence even more clearly. The Marathas and the more affluent middle castes who are the cultivators depend on the kin and the village officials, while the scheduled castes, the Mahars, and the poorer middle castes, who compose the categories of landless labour, tenants, and traditional services, depend on landlords, employers, and moneylenders. Similarly, the Low Marathas in the lowest income groups depend on kin, while the other low-income groups depend on landlords, moneylenders, and employers. In consultation on voting the importance of kinship ties seems to be much greater than in financial or occupational matters. Of those respondents who answered the question over 60 per cent

66 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule TABLE 6 Vo1ing: relation of consultant and caste of re�pondent (percentages in parenthesis) Relation of consultant

Scheduled Row Middle Mahars Low Upper High Maratha, caste, and lOtal castes Maratha, castes tr.ibes II

Kin

(61.7) Caste leaders. elders

I (6.3)

Village officials

I

Landlords. employers. moneylender,

0

I

9

5

Politician,. institutions, organizations (I I.I)

Total

23 2

df =

P

36

=

depend on kin for advice on voting. Those respondents who did not answer this question were often unaware of the need for delibera­ tion or advice, indicating a much higher ritualized dependence on others in the voting decision. While most respondents keep the voting decision within the household, those who do not show an interesting pattern. The High Marathas depend on village officials, politicians, and external stimuli for the voting decision, while the Low Marathas depend primarily on kin and on landlords and politicians. In fact, of those who depend on external stimuli, the upper castes, the High Marathas. and the more affluent middle castes are the most prominent. Low Marathas, like the poorer middle castes. are dependent on landlords, employers, and money­ lenders. They also depend on politicians, who are primarily the elite Marathas. The Mahars and the other scheduled castes show a characteristic level of caste solidarity and a dependence on caste leaders for cues (Table 6). The implications of this solidarity for political action will be discussed in a later chapter. Although the numbers involved in these tables are admittedly

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 67 small, the patterns are significant. They suggest that within a village a meaningful differentiation in the patterns of interaction reinforces the structure of domination and inequality. Since villages in India have rarely been totally isolated from each other or from the nearby urban centres, the patterns of interaction which extend beyond their boundaries are equally important in a study of rural polity. These interactions are considered to be even more important as a source of mobility and change by pluralists, who take the external orientation and contacts by villagers as implying greater moderniza­ tion and hence as precursors of increasing political participation (Sheth, 1971 ). In order to explore such assum ptions fully not only the extent but also the nature of external contacts must be examined. And both should be related to the structural categories. A very substantial majority of respondents had some external contact. For most of them, however, it was limited to their kin (over 66 per cent). Of those who have other types of interaction, the High Marathas have noticeably greater external contacts with politicians and administrators. The affluent among the middle castes and the Mahars have significant political contacts too. The middle castes, the Mahars, and the scheduled castes have more economic than political contacts, indicating their occupational specialization (Tables 7 and 8). The economic contact of the High Marathas demonstrates their growing involvement in the external market economy. The Mahars and the scheduled castes, like those in the traditional services and in non-agricultural employment, and the High Marathas who form a small part of those who call themselves cultivators were observed to have frequent (more than once a week) or regular (more than once a month) contacts outside the village. The Low Marathas, the bulk of the cultivators and tenants, have infrequent or no contacts (Tables 9 and 10). The members of the scheduled castes, including the Mahars, show almost as high a frequency of external contacts as do the High Marathas. That these contacts are primarily based on kin­ ship should not obscure the fact that the next most important base for the High Marathas is political, while that for the scheduled castes is economic. The latter shows an increasing dependence on external employment. If external contacts are, by themselves, considered the major determinant of economic or political advance­ ment, the plight of the Low Marathas would seem to be even worse than that of the scheduled castes. It would be natural, if one were to remain within the tradition­ modernity framework, to treat all kinship contacts as a sign of

68 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

High

55

II

23

II

NOTE:

2

P=O.OOI

=

55 II

I

(IS.I)

NOTE:

2

=

5

I (I I.I)

64

P

traditionalism and the political and economic contacts as a sign of modernity. In our framework, however, kinship constitutes a legitimation base and hence forms part of the rulership strategies. other words, for those who already control major access to resources, kinship solidarity can become an important mechanism for the exclusion of others. Kinship solidarity can activated for political purposes if the kin group as a whole is politically

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 69

NOTE:

2

=

P= village,

8

Regularly

5

None

64 NOTE:

2

=

=

80

644

P=

conscious and active. Respondents were thus asked about their party support and about the party support of their kin (Table 11). Those respondents who support a party and whose kin also support a party live in a more vibrant political environment than those who neither support a party nor have kin who support a party. Those whose kin support a party while they themselves do not are possible entrants to a politically active interaction network. The

70 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

(64. 9)

(46.0)

5

94 2

same is true of the apolitical kin of party supporters. The High Marathas and the Mahars appear distinctly more involved in vibrant political kinship networks than the Low Marathas, fewer of whom are party supporters. A good many of the former have kin supporting a party, who are presumably the elite Marathas with whom they seek to identify. The more affluent of the middle castes are also to be found in the politically conscious kinship structures. The preceding description of party support is presented here mainly to qualify the nature and extent of external contact and not as an aspect of relative politicization (which is the subject of the next chapter). We have observed the silent-partner status of the Low Marathas. In view of the model of faction-alliance politics the kinship basis of the external contact of the High Marathas acquires a new meaning, brought out by exploring the political character of their kinship networks. In the absence of social rank and wealth, the politically active kinship networks of the lower castes do not have the same meaning.

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 71 PAN CHAY AT POLITICS OF THE VILLAGE ELITE: TWO CASES

All the evidence presented so far adds up to a rather convincing inference that the socioeconomic structure of the village is conducive to strategic manipulations of the political process by the elite Marathas. Survey data alone cannot take us to the next step of demonstrating the strategic elite behaviour which results in the privatization of the public avenues of decision and resource distribu­ tion. In order to offer a glimpse of some relevant activities, we now consider two case studies of village panchayat (council) elections. These studies will show, first, how panchayat politics remains primarily restricted to the rural elite who manipulate the formal requirements to their own advantage, second, how the loyalty of the members of the factions can be taken for granted in manipulative activities, third, why the caste solidarity of the lower castes provides little ability for interest-bargaining, and, fourth, how even a strong alliance leader has to bargain with and reward the rival faction leaders. The first of the two villages is a typical Maratha majority village with two lineages holding the traditional patilki functions and forming rival alliances. The patriarch of one of the lineages is a major aJliance leader at the district level. We shaJI refer to him as Patil and call his village Patilgaon. The second village is within Patil's alliance network but is atypical in that the majority of its inhabitants are Muslims and the patilki functions were divided between two dominant Muslim lineages. We shall call this village Musalgaon. Since Patil's own alliance rivalries directly affect the factional politics in both villages, some of our later discussions of personal rulerships will be anticipated in discussing these cases. The focus in this chapter is on the village level, and the choice of the two villages was guided by a desire to keep the issue of Maratha hegemony at the centre of attention. Before discussing in detail the events surrounding the panchayat elections, I should point out how these activities primarily concern the elites only. In Patilgaon, for example, over 80 per cent of the households have an annual income of less than 1000 rupees. The annual income of the nine panchayat members averaged 4500 rupees. One of them was a scheduled caste member with an income of less than 1000 rupees. Patil's rival had a declared income of 10,000 rupees. In Musalgaon, where the land is poorer, incomes are lower. Even then the Muslim members of the panchayat averaged

72 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule over 3000 rupees, while the scheduled caste members had an average income of less than 850 rupees. At the time of the panchayat elections in Patilgaon, Patil had been president of the zilla parishad (the district council) for five years, a position with great patronage potential. He had recently given it up to be elected a member of the state legislature (he was old and poorly educated and hence did not expect to be made a cabinet minister). During his rule as the president of the zilla parishad, political institutions in Patilgaon had remained in the hands of the loyal members of his faction. A close friend had been the sarpanch (chairman of the village panchayat) for over eight years, followed by a loyal first cousin, Pandu, who had been in the seat for two years. The local multipurpose co-operative society was presided over by Tatya, a relative. Its secretary, Narsu, was also a relative and an active and loyal supporter of Patil. Narsu bad been secretary for twenty years, and he ran the society as he pleased. He had been a police parii before, and under Patil's patron­ age he became a power to be reckoned with. 5 Pandu, Tatya, and Narsu were the three main pillars of Patil's faction. Because of Patil's position as alliance leader, the rival faction had been, in a sense, co-opted into his structure of patronage; it was at least dormant as long as Patil was the president of the zi/la parishad. Characteristically, it consisted of the members of a rival bhauki. 6 While Patil's lineage had the police patilki of the village, the rival lineage had the mulki patilki. Its former patriarch, Bandu, had been considered the most influential person in the village prior to Patil's rise. During the period of Patil's dominance, there were many cleavages within the rival lineage until one of them, Anna, asserted himself over the others. Within the Congress­ based opportunity structures, Anna created for himself a small place not in conflict with Patil. He became a member of several co-operative societies in the taluka and was, for a year, the chairman of the Purchase and Sale Union. He became a member of the panchayat, the secretary of the area committee of the Congress Party, a member of the land mortgage bank, and a director of the local co-operative society. In the last of these roles he came in contact with Narsu. Narsu's relations with Patil's other ally, the chairman, Tatya, had deteriora­ ted, and a new split within the Patil faction was about to arise. At the same time the rival faction was beginning to gain ground under Anna's leadership. Patil soon became aware of this threat. Anna had come to the Congress in 1962 with many other senior

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 73 leaders of the Peasant's and Worker's Party. He had possibilities for associating with a rival alliance but had made no overt efforts to challenge or displease Patil. When Patil was moved out of a high patronage position to the distant and ordinary position of member of the Legislative Assembly, and when two of Patil's major local followers came in conflict with each other, Anna saw an opportunity for the reassertion of his factional dominance. Patilgaon was divided into three electoral wards. Each ward was to elect three members to the panchayat. As is customary for an alliance leader, Patil visited the village prior to the date of nominations. Since unanimity symbolizes cohesion and cohesion demonstrates total dominance, alliance leaders place a high value on ·no contest' elections in their areas of influence. 7 Patil managed to get 'no contest' elections in two wards. Nominees were chosen to represent both factions. But a problem arose with the third ward. The scheduled caste candidate for the reserved seat was picked without difficulty. 8 But Anna had held one of the seats from his ward for nearly five years and had no desire to vacate it. In fact he had decided to become a sarpanch. Precisely for that reason, Patil desired his defeat. He allowed an open contest and set up a nominee against Anna. In the only election held for three seats on the Patilgaon panchayat, Anna won the largest number of votes. Patil had failed to penetrate his patriarchal-patrimonial stronghold. Patil's next move was to stop Anna from becoming the sarpanch. Tatya had been elected from the second ward because Patil wanted him to be the sarpanch. Wishing to retain total control over all the major political institutions, Patil encountered strong opposition from none less than his most influential supporter, Narsu. Although both Tatya and Narsu were members of Patil's lineage, Narsu decided to back Anna in order to stop Tatya's rise. In the end Patil had to give in to his wishes. With Narsu's support and Patil's acquiescence, Anna was unanimously elected sarpanch. Patil, to save face, asked his other loyal supporters not to oppose Anna. An appearance of unanimity was retained. In our interview Anna praised Patil as 'the only leader of the village whose great service to the people has given him incomparable personal prestige'. These appearances were not intended or expected to be permanent. During the next five years the upheavals that shook the national level of the Congress Party had repercussions on Patilgaon. On the eve of his election as sarpanch, Anna had said to us: 'There has been little room for conflict within the panchayat

74 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule and the co-operative. This will not last too long. Patil's strong influence over the village has already begun to weaken because he has gone to the legislature. With Chavan [referring to Y.B. Chavan] far away in Delhi the rivalry within the village has increased'. Anna's last comment refers to a long and close personal relation­ ship between Patil and Chavan. Patil's rise to alliance leadership was a result of Chavan's sponsorship. As predicted by Anna, Patil's influence in the village rapidly declined. Anna contributed the most to it. He was elected sarpanch in 1967. At that time all the members had declared themselves to be the loyal members of the Congress Party. By March 1972 Anna had joined an alliance of rebel Congressmen in defiance of Patil, and after the subsequent panchayat elections nine out of ten elected members were of his rebel alliance. From Patil's village this was indeed a surprising result (Sakal, 3 April 1972). In May 1972 Anna became a candidate for the zilla parishad seat once occupied by Patil. Since Patil was on the selection committee for the Congress Party, Anna did not make the futile effort to seek a nomination there. Instead, he remained with the rebellious front of PatiJ's longtime rival alliance leader, Kiwal. Anna held a meeting of two hundred rebels in Patilgaon where Kiwal made a speech supporting Anna for the zilla parishad. Patil, using the strength of his ties with the state leaders and the help of his traditional allies, managed to have Anna defeated. Anna had already arrived on the district scene with his prospects linked with those of Kiwal's alliance.9 In 1974, Anna became chairman of the Agricultural Produce Market Committee of the taluka. In Musalgaon an open challenge to Patil's leadership did not arise. However, the rivalries between alliances at the higher levels did affect the village. Musalgaon, like Patilgaon, was divided into two major factions from within the lineages of the Muslims who shared the two patilki functions. Patil was the main alliance leader and remained so during his term as the president of the zilla pari­ shad. He supported the dominant faction within the village. Its leader, Abbas, had been the sarpanch during the entire period of Patil's presidentship. The leader of the rival alliance (Gafur) remained a member of the panchayat during this period. ln 1967, Gafur decided that it was time for him to assert his influence. Since neither Abbas nor Gafur was an alliance leader, their primary support was located within their own wards: Abbas in ward three and Gafur in ward two. Gani, who belonged to a leading patil lineage but had returned to Musalgaon after an absence of seven

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 75 years, lived in the first ward. He had been in the village for only a few months prior to the panchayat election and had had little time to establish a factional organization. Hence, in the first ward several aspirants ran for office on their own. A few were pro-Abbas or pro-Gafur, but most, including Gani, ran as independents. There were ten candidates for three seats. In the other two wards the two established faction leaders set up 'panels' of three candidates each in order to maximize their gains from the caste loyalties of the voters. The five Maratha candidates included an old woman of seventy who was asked to run for office by her son who had been a member of the panchayat before and by her nephew who ran with her as a panel of two. She and her nephew were part of the Abbas faction with peripheral rather than central loyalties. Table 12 gives the details of the caste composition of the three wards, the distribution of candidates, and the pattern of voting. Each ward was to elect three candidates, and each voter had three votes. Both factions nominated a roughly proportionate number of candidates for each major caste. The voting pattern indicates that the voters did not strictly follow caste lines. The dominant Muslims were able to gain the votes of most of their traditionally dependent castes as well as those of their Muslim supporters. In the first ward, where Maratha and Muslim voters were in almost equal numbers, only one Maratha candidate, Gangu, the 70-year­ old woman, got elected. Since both Abbas and Gafur did not live in this ward their influence on the candidates was much less direct. Gani won the highest number of votes in spite of the fact that he bad arrived only two months before the election. The caste identification of the Mabars and Mangs is much stronger than that of the Muslims or of the local Marathas. But the former two do not identify with each other as the deprived scheduled castes. They vote rather with intra-caste solidarity and not with the conscious identity of a shared lack of privilege. The Maratbas, deprived of an elite position in Musalgaon, show patterns of dependence similar to the other dependent castes. Even though there were seventy-six Maratba voters in the third ward, neither faction expected bloc voting from them and hence did not include a Maratba on the slate. In the third ward, incidentally, Abbas him­ self did not run but asked his nephew, Mahmud, to take his place. Gani's success in the first ward, Gafur's ability to have a Chamar woman elected on his panel in a ward with only fifteen Chamar voters and Mahmud's own substantial vote as a successor to Abbas are a few indicators of the complete Muslim hegemony of the village.

TABLEl2 Castes. candidates, and voting in Musalgaon

NOTE: Asterisk means elected member of panchayat; sc means scheduled caste; f means female.

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 77 Beyond the village level the status of Musalgaon's leaders is different. For that we must now turn to the election of the sarpanch. With Gani's election from the first ward as an independent there were three, instead of two, aspirants to the sarpanch office. Mahmud as the successor to Abbas, Gafur as the challenger, and Gani as the self-styled mediator, began to work towards building liaisons of convenience with the other six elected members. At this stage their politics became linked to the taluka and district politics. Abbas had been a member of Patil's alliance. In 1967 when Patil gave up his zilla parishad seat the new nominee, Dada, had become the patron. Gafur on the other hand was linked with the rival alliance of Kiwal (with whom Anna from Patilgaon made a com­ mon cause in 1972). Kiwal had in his alliance a Maratha sarpanch, Dopre. In 1967 Dopre wanted a Congress Party seat on the =illa parishad but was rejected in favour of Dada. a Patil ally. Dopre now sought another avenue to the zilla parishad: the electoral college of sarpanchas (see Lele, 1966, 17). In this he needed the support of the Musalgaon sarpanch. Even though both Gafur and Dopre were in the Kiwal alliance, they bad been each other's rivals in the co-operative and labour union fields. Dopre, anxious to have Gafur defeated, backed Mahmud, a member of the Patil alliance, whose chances of success were high because of Abbas's prestige in the village. Gafur took this threat seriously. Instead of going to his own alliance leader, Kiwal, for help, he went to Patj) and brought pressure on Abbas to make Mahmud withdraw from the race. Patil did not want to see Dopre win and was glad and able to stop Mahmud. Schematically these shifts in loyalties are represented in Figure I. Now the .competition was between Gaf ur and Gani. Gafur was unable to win Mahmud's vote even though the latter had withdrawn under pressure. In fact, Mahmud supported Garn, who was willing to Join the Abbas faction. In order to win, Gafur needed four other votes. Umar from the third ward was inclined towards supporting Gaf ur since he himself had no chance of winning. This vote was secured with a promise to make him the deputy sarpanch. Vithu, a loyal Mang supporter, came over with his faction leader, Umar. For the fifth vote Gafur approached Gangu, who had been set up by her ambitious relatives to gain some advantage. With a gift of a thousand rupees and a few other promises Gangu shifted her loyalties to Gafur. The two case studies illustrate how the structure of inequality in the village, supported by the interaction patterns based on elite

78 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule Figure 1

Alliances, Loyalties, and Leaders in Satara District

--.. - means positive communications ......,....__,, means relations of rivalry hegemony, facilitates the encapsulation of supposedly democratic politics into a privatized arena of bargaining. They also illustrate the nature of the loyalty of the non-elite members of the factions as seen in the behaviour of the scheduled caste members. Their support is taken for granted; in fact unquestioned loyalty is their only qualification for panchayat membership. There exist a few dissatisfied and educated members of these castes in both villages, but they have no leverage with the dominant elite. In Musalgaon we also see the example of caste solidarity of the scheduled caste voters become nullified by a lack of recognition of a common interest. The Mahars and the Mangs were not able to make common cause. But then, it would have made little difference anyway. The case of Patilgaon illustrates the relationships between faction leaders and an alliance leader when the village is part of a Maratha hegemony. The faction leaders can and do develop their own aspira­ tions for higher offices and rewards and can bargain effectively with the alliance leaders. In contrast, in Musalgaon the Muslim elite had to depend on the internal rivalries between the alliances for devising strategies. For Anna, Tatya, and Narsu, the alliance memberships were a matter of convenience and choice, while for the Muslim elite of Musalgaon the alliance was a necessity. A

Kinship, Village and the Maratha Hegemony 79 Muslim faction leader could not even dream of acquiring alliance leader status. In both cases the competition between the factions was conducted with dignity and decorum. Compromises were proposed, accepted, and broken with an air of urbane understanding. The impersonal, rational, and universal rules of the system were fully understood and cleverly used. Open tests of strength were scrupulously avoided until all other avenues had been fully explored. Possibilities of defeat were weighed in advance and current losses were minimized but accepted with a view to the maximization of future gains. Patil, for example, not only allowed Anna, his rival, to become sarpanch but supported him. In tum Anna praised him as the acknowledged leader of all. Mahmud quietly withdrew from a contest under pressure from a strong alliance leader, no doubt to wait for a future reward. The language used in justifying these actions to outsiders was that of the community's interest, party loyalty, the democratic will, and the interests of the 'common man'. These and similar cases raise serious doubts about the assumption of the traditionality of the peasantry contrasted to the modernity of democratic politics. That village politics so closely resembles sophisticated multi­ party politics in Western democracies is not a matter of surprise only if one recognized the inherent similarity of the public-private axis and the hegemonic character of all ruling classes. CONCLUSION

This chapter began with a critical history of the Maratha hegemony. Its rise out of the consensual tribal community and its transforma­ tion into a patriarchal-patrimonial system showed how the problem of the privatization of the communal surplus first came to be resolved. The brief and unsuccessful challenges to the hegemonic rule reflected both an infrequent but genuine recognition of the contradictions of privatization and the effectiveness of the hege­ monic class in destroying these challenges. Through strategic alliances with some of the non-elites, hegemonic classes retain their domination. Their cultural and economic control facilitates such alliance-making. The contemporary manifestations of the patriarchal-patrimonial system were then described in terms of the socioeconomic charac­ teristics of the different castes and illustrated with reference to the various interaction patterns, including those with other villages and towns. We examined the nature and extent of contacts, the

3 Social Structure and Politicization

A panchayat is only one of the several units of government in which control over public resources is vested. The ideal of classical democratic theory is that in a democratic society every citizen should have equal access to these resources. In the pluralist version, the ideal is translated into access to the governmental elite which controls the resources. 'For if democracy means anything, it means that in some way governmental elites must respond to the desires and demands of the citizens' (Almond and Verba, 1965, 340). In the pluralist view of democracy the vote plays a critical role in selecting 'from among the many the few who are to rule' (Prewitt, 1970, 3). For the classical theorists the act of voting was an exercise of public responsibility by a rational citizen. Marx recognized the emptiness of such an ideal in a competitive society of unequals. He saw, however, that the universal franchise, once translated into a truly universal access to public resources, could write a death warrant for all oppressive relationships and thus for the state itself. Pluralists discard Marxian and classical considerations as un­ realistic. A 'realistic' theory tends to accept reality as given, even though made by man, and seeks justifications for what exists. The relationship between the citizen and the government is discussed in terms of the knowledge a citizen has of the government, the contacts and communications he can establish with governmental agencies, or in short his ability to gain access to public resources through the governmental elite. A citizen's orientation towards the issues and his choice of a political party are considered to be aspects of his ability to influence the government. So is his participa­ tion in the activities of a political party. All these activities along with the social environment which facilitates them are treated

82 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule under the common concept of ' politicization' (Almond and Verba, 1965; Milbrath, 1966). The following section examines the dual meaning of vote in pluralist theory. a duality resulting from the tradition-modernity premise. We explore its consequences and examine similarities in voting patterns in pluralist democracies despite variations in the levels of modernity. The second section analyses the evidence on the citizen's access to the government and the effects of the structure of inequality in India, discussing the degree of a citizen's awareness of various governmental agencies and what contacts he has with them. Within the concept of politicization pluralists include two other dimensions of a citizen's political activity: his ability to evaluate the political system and its performance rationally and his participa­ tion in various partisan activities. These will be discussed apart from questions of access to the government. A citizen's ability to evaluate the polity and his ability to use it for personal gain coincide in pluralist theory and in reality. However, the coincidence obfus­ cates the dialectical nature of the relationship between the public and private spheres. The ·governmentalization' (Hoselitz and Weiner, 196 I) of a citizen is viewed here as his ability to privatize the public domain. As against this, the ability of a citizen to reflect upon the political system as a whole (upon what makes it work, who succeeds and why. or who can do a good job of solving basic problems, and so on) is potentially significant for a dialogue on the basic values and goals which can lead to the transformation of a society. Such a dialogue can occur only in a society free of all domination and in which the contradictions of the public-private dichotomy are resolved. The presence or absence of critica l judgment in the various sectors of a society gives some indication of its transformative potential. Morever, a citizen's participation in partisan politics is potentially distinct from his govermentalization. In the pluralist vision, partisan activity is considered to be either rewarding in itself or a training ground for the governmental elite. But in it may be recognized the capability of a society of advancing towards an . open debate over values and goals. Where citizens treat partisan politics as nothing more than a psychic reward or a training ground for governmental functions, the possibility of a political party becoming a spearhead for a domination-free society is admittedly remote. While the absence of partisan activity or of ritualized participation are symbols of satisfaction for a pluralist, they may instead reveal the weakness of the transfor-

. Social Structure and Politicization 83 mative potential of a society. The third section looks at the citizen's discriminating abilities and partisan activity. This chapter focuses on the inherent contradictions of the pluralist vision of a developing democratic polity, drawing on evidence from the survey of voting behaviour, governmental access, and partisan orientation to show the complex patterns through which hegemonic dominance pervades a formally democratic system. THE MEANING OF THE VOTE

In pluralist theory a vote expresses mass preferences about who should govern. There is a qualitative difference between the masses choosing between two or several sets of elites and their making claims on public resources. A massive amount of behavioural research on elections has thrown little light on this qualitative difference. Since it is assumed that the electorate will present radical approval or disapproval of a specific set of elites whenever crucial questions are at stake, the stable, unchanging voting patterns are treated as revealing satisfaction with the system. Voters identify with a political party on the basis of early experience within the family (Campbell et al., 1966) and, unless jolted out of this pattern, remain satisfied with their party. A great deal of voting behaviour can be explained through party identification, long term loyalty to a party. However, what causes these loyalties, how they are altered, or how and when issues become salient are questions rarely contemplated (Seely, Wildawsky, and Glaser, 1967; Goat, 1972). Answers to these problems cannot emerge merely from increased sophistication of techniques. The problem lies in treating electoral behaviour in isolation from the total life concerns of the citizens. A great deal of expertise has been invested in dealing with variables such as class and ethnicity, opinion-leadership, and cross-pressures. Constructs of party identification, normal vote, and critical and realigning elections have been developed from survey data. The basic questions of what a vote means to a citizen, why he does not reflect on its meaning, and why he finds satisfaction in routine identification with a party are not asked. The image of the citizen-voter in a modern society drawn from pluralist findings is inconsistent with the pluralist concept of rational modern man. Party identifications, not issues, predict voting behaviour. The typical citizen has little knowledge of the political situation, is quite uninterested in politics, and frequently takes cues from others. Identification is usually acquired very

84 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule early and outside the context of policies and ideologies. Voting, then, is only a ritualized affirmation of psychic dispositions, an act satisfying in itself and closely linked to the primordial and parochial origins of the personality. This hardly conforms, of course, to the image of a modern man implicitly held up as an ideal for so-called traditional societies. A modern man is supposed to be free from traditional authority, identifies with non-parochial leaders and organizations, and is interested in public affairs and parti­ cipates in them. His orientation to politics and government is based on the acceptance of rational rules says Inkeles (1969). Democratic or not, any modern polity is supposed to expect or even require this 'syndrome' in a citizen. How are these images of what exists and what is desirable to be made compatible? Is an ignorant citizen who votes ritually to be preferred to the modern citizen who participates? Pluralists, in keeping with their historical­ ideological heritage, offer a compromise. 'Non-political' interests are supposedly of such great importance to a modem citizen, that it would be irrational for him actively and rationally to attempt to understand and vote on issues (Almond and Verba, 1965). From this it is only a small step to the argument that it is the unhappy burden of those who can afford the time, energy, and resources to be participants. Empirical findings readily confirm a theory from which they are derived. It takes Little ingenuity to realize that this explanation of the ritualization of vote is an indirect admission of its meaninglessness to the modern citizen. In his scheme of priorities the public sphere has a very minor place, and the act of voting is only a small part of that sphere. The pluralist uses this fact not to question the basis of his democratic theory but to justify the privatization of the public sphere. He does not see that an increasing monopolization of the public sphere by a few privileged members may itself make the act of voting meaningless. Since a citizen's alternatives become pre-defined by the elite, they only have an appearance of a choice. Ritualization of the vote is an indication of stability, but not one based on the conscious reflection of citizens. Such reflection is rendered inoperative in pluralist theory and practice; the absence of dialogue is treated as the absence of a need for a dialogue. Ritual voting is equally predominant in the rural Indian setting where, as we have seen, kinship and caste are the primary contexts of a voting decision. In Maharashtra this of course allows the elite Marathas to make effective use of the numerical strength of their caste. The Low Marathas faithfully deliver their votes to a candidate

Social Structure and Politicization 85

5 44

50

NOTE:

2

=

=

P=

preferred by the dominant faction leaders. The elite also expects patrimonially sanctioned compliance from the lower-caste members of their factions. The act of voting, for the majority of the un­ privileged sectors of the village society, becomes a ritual assertion of a relationship of loyalty based on hegemonic rule. Tradition becomes a manipulative strategy of rulership for the elite who control the political system to which they must deny access to others. The evidence for the ritualization of voting comes from a variety of sources. Our respondents were asked a purposely vague question about the object of their vote. They could thus identify the object in one of three possible ways: the candidate, the party, or the party symbol as printed on the ballot paper. It seems reasonable to assume that those who decide their vote primarily on the basis of the symbol rather than the candidate or the party regard voting less as a deliberate act and more as a ritual. The symbol is a vivid, easily identifiable cue that the elite can communicate to their loyal supporters with little explanation and at very short notice. The upper castes and the High Marathas think primarily in terms of the candidate and the party, whereas the Low Marathas, the scheduled castes, the Mahars, and the middle castes think primarily in terms of the symbol (Table 13). The conclusion, that symbol signifies ritualization of the voting decision based on cues, receives further support from another

86 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

comparison. After the elections the respondents were asked the question Wbo won? While few knew the outcome, a very large majority of those did identify the winner by the pany and the candidate, not the symbol (Table 14). This comparison suggests some important conclusions. First, the symbol is not simply another way of referring to the party or the candidate. In describing the outcome of the election it is rarely used. It seems plausible, there­ fore, to assume that the faction leaders use the symbol as an easy shorthand for the candidate of their choice in issuing cues to the dependent members of their factions. The information about the outcome of the elections is not likely to come from the faction leaders. who have no need to make it known. The other sources, such as the media, do not use the symbol as a reference. Thus the information received is about the candidate and the party. This fact also brings into question a common assumption that in rural India symbols themselves acquire an affect of their own, with voters habitually voting for the symbol they have come to like. The voters in Maharashtra did not vote that way during the elections in 1957 when a mu1tiparty coalition opposed the Congress Party and the Maratha elite supported it (Stem, 1970). Equally convincing is the evidence from the electoral success of Mrs Gandhi's Congress Party in 1972, when it was denied the use of the 'pair of bullocks' symbol of the old Congress Party. It seems that the rural elite first make a choice based on their own hegemonic considerations and then seek a ritualized, loyalty based vote from their followers. The same conclusion is suggested by a set of responses about the timing of the decision on voting. Those who depend on others

Social Structure and Politicization 87

5

NOTE:

3

I

2

for a vote-decision and those who wait until the day of the election before deciding were separated from those who identified with a political party or showed signs of deliberation and reached an early decision. Among the less privileged, the predominant pattern was that of a lack of deliberation (Table 15). (The Mahars show a distinctive pattern of behaviour compared to the other unprivileged groups. The reasons for this, discussed briefly in the last chapter, will be re-examined below.) The inference that an act of voting is a ritual, especially for the less privileged sections of the population, receives additionaJ support from one other source. The approach to the voters in the rural areas by the candidates and campaigners tends to be very personalized and less dependent on mass rallies (Sirsikar, 1973). It is also surprisingly brief. Asked only two weeks before the general elections, 70 per cent of the respondents said that no campaigners had approached them. When interviewed immediately after the election and asked if they had been con­ tacted prior to the election by the candidates or their camp­ aigners, over 65 per cent replied in the affirmative. This brief but extensive campaign can only mean that communication takes the form of cues more often than discussion, deliberation, and persuasion. This is much more so for the less privileged than for the potential elite. The respondents were divided into four cate­ gories: campaigners, those approached early, those approached late, and those whom no campaigners visited. The politically active

88 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

5

5

41 -.;n, E:

xz

P

and early approached were the High Marathas and the more affluent middle castes. The unprivileged groups, including Low Marathas (but excluding the Mahars), tended to approached late or not at all (Table 16). For the pluralists this ritualization of the vote by the Indian citizen is a sign of a traditional, parochial, and subject culture to which the panicipant, modern culture is contrasted. Attempts are made to find a movement from tradition to modernity. In the general elections of 1967 the Congress Party suffered a serious setback in several states and faced a period of instability. Studies conducted during that period, based on a national sample, 1 make claims of growing issue-orientation (Kothari, 1970b: Sheth, 1971 ; Madsen, 1970), party identification (Eldersveld, I 970), and a rational defection from the Congress Party for poor performance (Kothari, 1970c; Eldersveld, 1970). On the basis of these findings, Kothari claimed a major realignment in citizen loyalties and the

Social Structure and Politicization 89 beginning of a new era in electoral politics. The contrast between these claims and our data cannot be explained away by adducing the uniqueness of Maharashtra. In 1967 the Congress Party retained its solid support base in Maharashtra, though it received a serious setback in most others. While the dominance of elite Marathas using the Low Marathas as silent allies is unique to Maharashtra, similar patterns of dominance by alliances of castes have been observed in other states also (Roy, 1968). Kothari claims that the vote bankers and intermediaries are being bypassed by the voters (1970c). In the absence of a comprehensive analysis of all the underlying data, it is difficult to evaluate the strength of these claims. The aforementioned analyses raise many questions and demand further exploration. For example, Kothari used fasts and government control as two major issues on which to evaluate the change in Congress Party support. Over 80 per cent of the respondents had an opinion on both issues, but many more were concerned about fasts than about government control. This fact and the fact that those who vote for the opposition parties have more polarized opinions are treated as indications of growing issue-orientation. The issues were picked by the researchers and presented to the voters. They were asked to voice an opinion in the form 'agree or disagree'. Our own data suggest that interviewer pressure and ease of response make such questions more popular with the respondents than the open-ended questions where they have to articulate the issues they consider salient. Whereas only 36 per cent did not answer questions of the former type, in our sample, over 72 per cent had no answer to an open-ended question. This implies a lack of deliberation rather than a strong issue­ orientation among the voters. This suspicion receives some con­ firmation from another analysis based on the Centre data used by Kothari and others in which little relationship between partisanship and issues related to party politics was found. In fact a large per­ centage of the respondents contradicted themselves on the question of a multiparty system, indicating less-than-consistent orientation to issues (Marvick, 1970). When most of the issue questions were considered together, the only way to relate the responses to partisan­ ship was to use combinations that seemed to raise doubts about consistent or rational issue-orientation (Madsen, 1970). Eldersveld refused to call 1967 a 'critical election' because two-thirds of the same respondents had no real interest in it (1970). Kothari himself seems to accept that the major shifts have occurred in urban areas, whereas Congress Party support was quite solid in the rural areas

90 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule (Kothari, 1970b). The most significant result of this other survey concerns the salience of caste. The conclusion appears to be that intra-caste socioeconomic heterogeneity (as observed by us in the case of the Marathas) does not necessarily lead to a reduced signi­ ficance of caste in politics. The fact of dominance - the traditional status position - is very important in retaining caste salience for politics even within a heterogeneous caste (Ahmed, 1970). The claim that the voters show signs of increasing party identi­ fication also raises questions. The data appear based on questions such as which party respondents felt 'close to' (Marvick, 1970); it is not clear whether they were presented with a list of parties or asked to volunteer a name. No more than 55 per cent of the respon­ dents seem to have a clear sense of party support. In our sample nearly 38 per cent were such party supporters. Given the absence of urban voters in our sample this compares favourably with the Centre data. Of these, nearly 77 per cent identified with the Congress Party. which, coupled with their vote performance, indicates a routine, ritualized response rather than a conscious sense of identi­ fication. We have no idea of the degree of Congress Party support in the Centre data. A study based on a similar but larger sample found that over 88 per cent were Congress Party identifiers (Field, 1972). The expressions 'being close to' or 'support' are open to wide interpretations by both respondents and analysts, and estimates of changes in party identification based on such responses should be treated with great caution. Events since the Congress Party split, such as the 1971 parliamentary elections. the 1972 general elections, and the post-election supremacy of the Congress Party in most states, brought back the stable, intra-Congress elite compe­ tition. Weiner was correct in treating the 1965-71 period as an interlude rather than a realignment (1971 ). An independent piece of evidence also casts doubt on the idea of increasing issue-orientation. In 1971, there were parliamentary elections 'delinked' from the elections to state legislatures. A 6 per cent drop in voter turnout was observed and attributed to the 'delinking' (Chandidas, 1972). Our data has revealed a high degree of similarity in responses to the objects-of-vote question between legislature and parliamentary elections (see Tables 13 and 14). There was little vote-splitting, and the relationship between the two votes was very high (r = 0.559 at 0.001 significance). The lack of interest in a strictly parliamentary election is best explained by the lack of interest in parliamentary politics among the elite rather than the voters. Indirectly this confirms our thesis of

Social Structure and Politicization 91 continuity in the ritualization of vote. In spite of claims that Mrs Gandhi defied the traditional view of politics in 1971, regionalism seemed to be significant at the issue level, indicating the importance of the local elite (Weiner, I 971 ). Claims against the idea of ritualiza­ tion of the vote become tenuous when analysed in total context. The evidence supports the continuity of the Congress system more strongly than discontinuity, a thesis advanced amid the peculiar events following the 1967 elections. I do not mean to imply that none of the issues and the associated activities reach the rural voter. Some issues do directly touch upon his basic beliefs. But if and when such an issue is encountered. it likely goes through something similar to the two-stage communi­ cation model developed by American psephologists in which opinion leaders interpret the issues for the voters (Berelson, et al., I 966). In 1967 the Jan Sangh Party tried to make an issue of the demand for a ban on cow-slaughter. The Congress Party refused to take a stand. Through the fast of a major Hindu religious leader (the sankaracharya) in favour of such a ban, the issue had acquired a great deal of intensity for the Hindus. The national leadership of the Congress Party was known to be divided and concerned about the impact of the fast (hence, perhaps, Kothari used 'fasts' as an issue in his questionnaire). In one of our villages a Congress faction leader, at a public meeting, gave this interpretation: Every Hindu has love for the cow. When Jan Sangh favours a ban on cow­ slaughter and wants to create a 'Hindu empire' it really means a 'Brahmin empire'. We are farmers, agriculturists. We do not need these outsiders to tell us that the cow is like a mother to us. We worship her more and with greater understanding than they do. They are trying lo take advantage of your religious_ feelings and you know it. It is doubtful whether the sankara­ charya is really fasting. His secretary said the other day that he eats secretly al night. With the innuendoes about Brahminism and cheating and with subsequent references to Gandhi's murder, the issue was deflected to fit the interpretation desired by the faction leader. One mythical issue was countered with a stronger one. In light of the limitations of survey analysis in unravelling such nuances of elite and mass behaviour, we must remain sceptical about the claims of rapid growth in issue-orientation among the Indian voters. Why do pluralists consider the lack of issue-orientation in the

92 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule American voter to be rational and yet expect to see its rise in the Indian voter? The answer seems to lie in the assumptions of the tradition-modernity axis. Rising issue-orientation is considered desirable only if it is coupled with increasing party identification (Kothari, 1970b), which, in the American context, signifies ritualiza­ tion (Campbell et al., 1966, 198). In the Indian case the pluralist belief in growing issue-orientation arises from an evolutionary ideology in which a movement from tradition to modernity is assumed to be a movement from parochial-subject to participant cultures. The necessary end product of this evolutionary process, in the pluralist vision, is a stable democratic regime with adequate but not excessive participation, adequate but not excessive aware­ ness of issues, and adequate but not excessive interest in politics. These attributes will be coupled with a sense of duty toward the system, a feeling of efficacy about one's abilities, and satisfaction with the performance of the elite. 2 It is not part of a pluralist's project to consider whether such a system is genuinely rational or whether a sense of efficacy and satisfaction with the elite are indications of the declining significance of the political sphere due to its increased monopolization by the elite. The ruling elite may strengthen its monopoly either by catering to the citizen's self-interest (if that is a dominant theme of the cultural order) or through an appeal to the loyalties of kinship and caste. In both cases, by becoming integrated with kinship and peer group loyalties the act of voting retains only a psychic significance and loses its meaning as a 'public' act. GOVERNMENTALIZATION OF THE RURAL CITIZEN

Even if a citizen believes that his vote is an act of public respon­ sibility, it becomes an effective lever on the governmental elite only in the aggregate. Individually. by itself. a vote is only a periodic affirmation or rejection of a segment of the ruling elite. A citizen's ability to make the elite respond to more specific demands and desires rests on channels other than voting and is usually examined under the rubric of politicization. Ideally, all public resources should be equally accessible to all citizens. If this were actually to happen it would mean an end to the pluralist model, in which scarcity and competition play an important role. Pluralists there­ fore substitute for equality of access the principle of the formal openness of the public arena to which anyone with the necessary ability can gain access. Those who do not actively seek it are assumed

Social Structure and Politicization 93 not to have the desire or interest, at least in specific resources at a specific time. Since the ability to enter the political arena is given such a crucial place in pluralist democratic theory it ought to be evaluated among the various groups of rural citizens in Maharashtra. At a minimum, whether or not a citizen seeks access to the government depends on whether he has some knowledge of the complex structures and processes of decision-making and imple­ mentation. He must know what the components are, who occupies the positions in them, what their jurisdictions are, and what they do or have done in tenns of their functions. These dimensions of a citizen's knowledge can be grouped under the concept of aware­ ness. The usual measures of awareness include questions about persons in office, party leaders, and seats of government. Jn rural India a great deal of political activity centres on the panchayati raj, whose units bring a range of valued benefits to the villages. Knowledge of the duration of their existence, the location of their offices, and their activities are important for a measure of awareness. Those who know the points of access to the political system are better placed lo use it to their own advantage than those who are ignorant of them. For these reasons our respondents were asked several questions about levels of government, the occupants and aspirants of public offices, and the various services rendered by the local governments to the rural areas. Essential to an awareness of the government is knowledge of the various levels. Since the governments are hierarchically orga­ nized, the higher units have wider authority and control but are also progressively more remote in location from the rural citizen. An awareness of the higher levels of government is therefore bound to indicate greater politicization. A Guttman scale analysis (see the appendix for details) of the three levels (panchayat, panchayat samiti, and zil/a parishad) produced excellent results, indicating the cumulative nature of the awareness of these levels among the citizens. Table 17, which relates awareness of different levels of government (based on the scale items) to caste, brings out the differences clearly. High Marathas have a disproportionate share in knowledge of the government. In contrast, Low Marathas, the scheduled castes, and a substantial percentage of the middle castes know much less. Mahars have an advantage, but not comparable to that of the High Marathas. But awareness of structures is only one aspect. Knowing the officials who occupy positions in the government is even more

94 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

44

44

3

NOTE:

z

=

=

P=

important for securing benefits. lf the items relating to the aware­ ness of public officials are subjected to a scalogram (Guttman scale) analysis, the results once again show the same pattern of privilege (Table 18). Mahars, Low Marathas, the scheduled castes, and the middle castes are much less aware of officials at the higher levels of government than the privileged groups. 3 Another equally important aspect of the awareness of the govern­ ment is that of the knowledge of the various services rendered by the governmental agencies. Most of the important services can be grouped under these headings: health, construction (roads, bridges, buildings), education, agriculture, and co-operation. Respondents were asked to name the various projects in these areas. Not all these services are equaUy significant for everyone. Health and educational services are usually formally open and available to all citizens and have a high salience for everyone, regardless of occupation or economic status. They cannot be formally made exclusive to specific groups if public funds are expended on them. This is not true about the services in the domains of agriculture and co-operation, whose importance varies according to the occupations of the citizens. They can be made selectively available by formal criteria of exclusion such as credit worthiness, deadlines for applica­ tions, or long and difficult application procedures. The choice

Social Structure and Politicization 95

II

(I I.I)

II

NOTE:

2

=

=

P

=

32

(30.9)

NOTE:

1

P

96 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

59 5

NOTE:

I

2

=

P=

=

Row

63 II

5

8

2

=

=

P

l

Social Structure and Politicization 97

5

5

NOTE:

2

P

of sites for buildings, bridges, and roads is usually selective, although once constructed they are accessible to all citizens. Their impor­ tance is probably greater for those involved in commerce or commuting, while for some they mean jobs during construction. Public health programs geared to the control of epidemics are highly visible and often compulsory. This may also account for a widespread awareness of the existence of the health projects. Of the few not touched by any of the health activities the scheduled castes, the Mahars, and the Low Marathas constitute the largest number (Table 19). Awareness of construction projects, in contrast, follows a different pattern (Table 20). The High Marathas and the richer middle castes use them a great deal and know a lot about them. Mahars and some members of the scheduled castes also seem to have a fair knowledge of them. These variations result from differences in occupations (Table 21). Rich cultivators, non­ agricultural employees, and businessmen are externally oriented and affected by improvements in communication networks. Poorer cultivators and tenants, the labourers who come primarily from the ranks of Low Marathas and scheduled castes, rely on construction projects for employment during the off season. Better roads, bridges, wells, and buildings, of course, contribute to the general welfare of the rural people. However, in the case of the privileged they may make a long-term infrastructural contribution, whereas for

98 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

5

II

5 72

5

NOTE:

P

2

5

8

5

I

II

9

5

20

5 64

NOTE:

2

=

=

P

=

II

Social Structure and Politicization 99

34

II 5

5

II (100.0)

NOTE:

2

P

the unprivileged they may mean little more than a one-time sub­ sistence wage. Even in education, where formal requirements of free and compulsory primary education exist along with special funds and facilities for the unprivileged groups, the lower castes do not show great awareness. The Mahars, as before, are an excep­ tion (Table 22), but they are rarely able to use their education except, possibly, when they move out of the village. Agricultural projects touching the rural citizen are many and various. They include, for example, agricultural schools, improved implements, cash crop encouragement, horticulture, development of local fertilizer, plant protection, intensive food grain cultivation, and seed multiplication, as well as the routine distribution of such inputs as credit, seeds, and fertilizers. It is not surprising, therefore, that nearly 50 per cent of the respondents were aware of some agricultural activities (Table 23). These were primarily from among the cultivators and tenants (Table 24), and, more important, among the Marathas they were mostly the privileged. The scheduled castes (representing landless labour) are not involved in any meaningful way in the programs of agricultural development. Similar patterns are observed, but even more vividly, in the area of co-operation. All the villages have been officially covered by means of government-sponsored, highly subsidized primary socie­ ties, which numbered over twenty thousand in 1971. From our sample of citizens, even those in the more privileged caste groups were not greatly involved in the co-operatives. Those who are

100 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

5 17

Z = = P= involved generally come from the upper caste and High Maratha groups (Table 25). In occupational terms, awareness of co-operative activities is much greater among small businessmen and cultivators than among tenants, labourers, or traditional servants (Table 26). Some independent evidence on the High Maratha monopolization of co-operatives comes from a report by the minister of co-operation in Maharashtra state. By 1970 only 27 per cent of the primary co-operatives in Maharashtra had achieved the goal of I 00 per cent membership. [n most of the societies existed a dominant, fully entrenched group in command that had become an obstacle to the openness and progress of these societies (Mohite, 1970). The report goes on to add that of those who have not become members, a large percentage consists of the very small landholders. Of those who have formally been made members, only 45 per cent have been able to use the credit facilities (Kamat, G.S., 1973). The entrenched dominant group comes primarily from the High Marathas and the upper castes. In occupational terms they are the more affluent cultivators and businessmen and are mainly in higher income brackets. The marginal benefits to the small farmer and labourer in the form of dividends and jobs distributed by large co-operatives such as the sugar mills (Rosenthal, 1973) hardly justifies the rakeoff from the public sphere they cause through monopolistic inefficiencies and misappropriation of public grants and subsidies. These abuses also incapacitate the depressed groups for a conscious organization of their interests (Baviskar, 1969).

Social Structure and Politicization IOI by

55

NOTE:

2

=

=

P

by

NOTE:

2

=

P

These several indicators oflevels ofawareness have been grouped under a composite index (see the appendix for details), which brings out quite clearly the unequal pattern of awareness of the various aspects of the government that impinges rather heavily on the rural citizen. Table 27 shows the relative advantage of the High Marathas, the upper castes, and the affluent among the middle castes. The Low Marathas and the scheduled castes show much less awareness of the governmental system. The Mahars are almost equally distributed among those with high, medium, and low awareness.

102 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

5

NOTE:

P=

=

1

88

46

NOTE:

2

=

=

40

P=

The plight of the unprivileged castes is even more striking when one looks at their actual contacts with the officials of the govern­ ment. Using the Guttman scale, their visits to various government offices prior to the survey were analysed. Those who had frequently resorted to government offices at the higher levels in the hierarchy were from the upper castes and the High Maratha group (Table 28). Even more prestigious, in normal, non-punitive contexts, are visits from government officials. Very few in any of the castes were fortunate enough to have such visits. The upper castes and the High Marathas were the most visited (Table 29). The total absence of visits from officials to over 60 per cent of the rural people appears

Social Structure and Politicization 103 even more striking when we note the fact that under the panchayat raj, for nearly ten years, every village had had a development worker claimed to be the kingpin of a program for the rural citizen's development as a total human being. 4 These and other variables were grouped into a composite index of political contact which brings out the inequality structure even more vividly (Table 30). The actual past and present interactions between citizens and government provide some indication of their abilities to obtain the needed public resources. Pluralist studies of politicization also emphasize the importance of political contact but often ignore structural variation of the kind found in our study. Such studies seem to assume that as long as some citizens have contacts with government that is a sign of development. However if such develop­ ment is not initially democratic, that is, spread evenly between all sectors, then it is not likely to become so later (Dahl, 1965). More­ over, the government touches a great many aspects of the daily life of a rural citizen in India. For the much-needed agricultural inputs, deferral of loan payments, licensing for feasts, processions, and flour mills, and on a hundred other occasions the citizens must approach the state officials. In fact, for almost any activity, including much of the traditional routine of daily existence, there appears to be some impingement of the governmental structure on the citizen. s Some political scientists suggest that citizens in India are highly politicized. The independence movement, in this view, produced many organized interest groups. These observers also claim that in India there is a tradition of expecting the government to perform all welfare functions (Hoselitz and Weiner, 1961 ). It is important to recognize that the group bases of these two facts are distinct from each other. The development of interest groups during the independence· movement was among those who are now in ruling positions, including urban capitalists, bureaucrats, intellectuals, and professionals. The independence movement did little to organize the interests of the poor peasant and landless labourer (Hauser, 1963; Omvedt, 1972). The traditional expectation that those oc­ cupying positions of authority should help ameliorate the ills of unprivileged groups is part of the patriarchal-patrimonial cultural order defined by the ruling elite and subscribed to by the unprivi­ leged. When a poor peasant, a tenant, or a labourer approaches the men in authority, elected officials, or career civil servants, he does so with the humility of a petitioner, as a beggar and not as a democratic citizen who is making his demands and desires

104 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

=

NOTE:

=

P=

=

P=

(30,4)

NOTE:

2

=

known lo the ruling elite. While interest groups make the govern­ ment an arena for the rich, it continues to be the 'Maa-Baap Sarkar' (paternalist regime) for the poor (Tinker, 1959).

The structure of inequality in rural society and its political con­ sequences for the rural citizen have been reviewed in terms of access to the public resources. If we assume for a moment that all citizens are able to reflect on how democratic procedures and legitimizing myths help perpetuate the inequalities and differential access to the public sphere, the impact of such reflections would be

Social Structure and Politicization I 05 different on different groups. Those excluded by the system may reject its legitimacy and seek its transformation so that access becomes genuinely open. Those who benefit from exclusive access are likely to see it as necessary for the stability and perpetuation of the cultural order. This primary distinction between conse­ quences of citizen rationality is usually ignored in the studies of politicization. We now consider some evidence on the views of different groups on the performance of the system. In the context of the transformative potential of a society this ability to reflect on the system is important and will be referred to here as political judgment. Our data show that the rural citizenry is unequally di­ vided in its ability to judge the processes and consequences of the system along much the same line as in being able to use the system to advantage. The High Marathas show a substantially greater ability to evaluate the system in comparison with the Low Marathas, Mahars, and the scheduled castes (Table 3 I). In occupational terms the latter include the small peasants, tenants, and landless labourers (Table 32). It is of course true that where the ability to judge the impact of a political system is low among the deprived sections of the popula­ tion, partisan activity by itself will not lead to an open debate and there will be little critical discussion of the goals and values of society. Taking this fact as its starting point, pluralist theory treats political parties as the organizers of competition in a political market based on procedural consensus (Lipset and Rokkan, 1967). The European political experience shows a long tradition of mass, working-class parties espousing goals and values which critically challenge the ideas of a political market and elite hegemony and do not merely compete within the procedural consensus. By chal­ lenging the dominant cultural order they demonstrate some potential for rational and free discussion. It is true, however, that the incorporation of these parties into alliances with hegemonic rulers has been growing rapidly in Europe during the post-war years (Parkin, 1971; Kfrchheimer, 1957, 1966; Frankel, 1964). This development corresponds to our model of hegemonic rule in which strategic alliances with unprivileged groups impede their judgment. The objection to treating partisan activity as an aspect of arena bargaining is based on the potential, not the actual, transformative capabilities of deprived groups. Where hegemonic classes have effectively incorporated the mass parties into the market system or destroyed them through re­ pression, partisan activity within a multi-party system becomes

106 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

High Medium

Low

NOTE:

266

(46.2) 9

=

=

only a medium of psychic rewards. Party identification for most citizens is a ritual identification with political actors. Politics begins to resemble a spectator sport. A passion for a party or a candidate becomes a substitute for meaningful participation in politics. A sense of deprivation is avoided by becoming an 'active' spectator. A sense of efficacy is derived from participation in non-essential political activities such as voting, campaigning, and party support. The victory of the winning team is treated as one's own victory. Partisan activity becomes a manipulable myth and an element in rulership strategy. This analysis, if correct, explains why for the first time we observe a very weak relationship between a political variable and the caste of the respondents (Table 33). In general, participation beyond the level of voting is very small. Less than 27 per cent had attended any rallies, 11 per cent had advised others to vote, and only 7 per cent had actually campaigned for a party or a candidate. The prominence here of the Mahars along with High Marathas upholds the trend that that deprived group has consistently shown in almost all political activity, combining a high level of political awareness with a far lower level of political contact. The Mahars attain a high rate of participation but not a comparable level of judgment, lacking typically those attributes crucial for either bargaining within or transforming the system. In their inability to penetrate the socioeconomic stranglehold, the Mahars and the other scheduled castes resemble Blacks in the United States (Verba, Bhatt, and Ahmed, 1971). The Republican Party, within which the partisan activity of the

Social Structure and Politicization 107

Row

288

548

(8.4) NOTE:

2

=

(lC>O.0)

=

P

=

SI

68 NOTE:

2

5.

89

(44.4)

P

poiiticized Mahars took place, has suffered from internal factional­ ism caused by the alliance strategies of the hegemonic rulers. The party had never shown a high level of militancy. The recent emer­ gence of militant groups such as the Dalit Panthers has been restricted to urban centres because even slight deviations from the patriarchal-patrimonial order have been severely punished in rural areas of India. Under these conditions partisan activity for the Mahars has had only a symbolic protest value. In spite of their inability to grasp critically the injustices of the political system, the unprivileged groups are in general more sceptical about the ability of partisan politics to solve their basic socioeconomic pro­ blems (Table 34). Even though the dissidents are few, given their general dissociation from the public sphere, illustrated once more by their inability to articulate significant issues and problems (Table 35), this dissatisfaction with the system is significant.

108 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

0.5460 0.4048

60

5

2

=

=

=

Govemmentalization, in the language of the public-private distinction, is symptomatic of an orientation towards privatization of the public sphere. Considering separately the questions of politi­ cal judgment and participation throws light on the frustrated potentiaJ for social transformation and the efficacy of the rulership strategies of the hegemonic elite. The judgment of deprived groups remains weak because they are susceptible of management by democratic and traditional myths. The ruling elite in all democracies displays a continuing ability to make temporary aJliances with conscious segments of the deprived groups. Once their leadership accepts the procedural norms of centrist, parliamentary politics, it becomes incorporated within the political market system. Parti­ cipation becomes a training ground for the privatization of the public sphere for a few; for others it is turned into a vicarious, psychic activity.

110 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule have no meaning for lhe pluralists; when noted, they turn up as affirmations of the healthy progress towards development for democracy in India (Field, 1972; Kothari, 1968). A proper com­ parative understanding of hegemonic rule, of the comradictions of the public-private distinction, and of the myths and legitimating strategies of the ruling elite is thus hampered by the acceptance of the tradition-modernity perspective. This became clear when we examined the comparative evidence on the ritualization of vote in the United States and India and the contradictory interpretations given by pluralists. The treatment of politicization variables leads to the same con­ clusion. No distinctions are made between abilities that enhance the privatization of the public sphere and those which have the potential for a critical and rational examination of the system itself. Pluralists usually put them within the same dimension of a citi­ zen's efficacy in dealing with the governmental elite. I have suggested that this composite treatment is meaningful only for the ruling elite who control the system itself; their ability to control is en­ hanced by an over-all view of the system. Were the deprived classes to develop such critical abilities, they would question the system. In pluralist studies of politicization critical questioning of the system is conspicuously absent. Similar ideological perspectives guide pluralist interpretations of partisan activity. Its absence among most citizens is considered rational in the West but traditional in India. More significantly, partisan activity is not treated as distinct from governmental. Parties are assumed to be organizers of competition in the political market. Even the European experience, where partisan activity bas often meant a critical and system-transformative dialogue is ignored as an ideological heritage of a dying tradition (Epstein, 1967). Our data tend to confirm the pluralist description of reality but cannot be said to validate the pluralist ideology. The distinction lies in the descriptive and critical perspectives from which the two orientations begin. A descriptive behavioural perspective is in­ herently ideological in that it becomes a justification of the status quo. It universalizes a single historical phenomenon. A critical perspective seeks to relocate that phenomenon within the contexts of human history and human potential. So far we have dealt with the citizen-·elite relationship, the elite in this case being only the potential elite in the form of High Marathas. They are the beneficiaries of the system, its supporters, and the hegemonic class of rulers. However, they are not, most of

Social Structure and Politicization 111 them, active participants in the management of government either in the villages or at higher levels. The rulership strategy between the elites and the ruled was described as patriarchal-patrimonial, and its manifestations were discussed in this and the second chapter. The intra-elite interaction is characterized by personal rulerships, which enhance elite privatization of the public sphere while retain­ ing the myth of open competition. The next two chapters describe and examine the elite Maratha predominance in the political elite structure, their geographic distribution, and the factional-alliance pattern within which elite interaction takes place.

4 Political Arenas and the Elite

To participate in a pluralist democracy is to learn how to use the government to one's own advantage and to derive psychic satisfac­ tion from minimal partisan involvement. This is true of a citizen in an industrial society as well as of a rural citizen in India. Participa­ tion beyond the level of ritual voting and party identification is rare among citizens in most democratic societies. The low level of activity and involvement is particularly evident in unprivileged or low-status groups. The more privileged citizens do not necessarily become occupants of public offices, but they do constitute a recruitment pool (Prewitt, 1970). In Maharashtra the High Marathas, the predominant members, are much more politicized than the rest of the population and live in a vibrant political environment of politically conscious kin. As hegemonic rulers they dominate the economy and the cultural belief systems and use both in manipulating the loyalties of less privileged citizens. This chapter deals with those who expect to or actually do occupy offices in the public sphere. We consider the positions in panchayats, co-operative societies, and educational institutions at the village, taluka, and district levels. For those who aspire to or occupy these positions, politics is obviously not a spectator sport. For them, but only for them, the pluralist vision of politics as a bargaining arena is real. The homogeneity of a hegemonic class rests on its shared cultural and ideological world-view and its relative control of the economy. This does not mean, however, that all the interests of its members are identical, nor does it imply an internal equality of rank. The level and nature of economic interest and relative position within the structure of rank often coincide. One also finds within this class a hierarchy of political interest reflected in dif­ ferential participation in the government. We examine the structures

Political Arenas and the Elite 113 of hierarchy of privilege within the elite and the corresponding differences in their participation. While our data come solely from Maharashtra, similar patterns have been observed by others in the rest of India. Even though the hegemonic elite in India is widely dispersed across regional and linguistic barriers, its collaborative strategies have insured for it nearly total control of all levels of government. The policy outputs of the national government have mostly supported the interests of the dominant landowning castes. Even the much-publicized socialist policies have benefited them. Unfortunately we know very little about the informal political links between these dispersed groups. Studies linking local and state politics with the national level are rare. The major processes which link these levels are those of more inclusive alliances and associated patronage; complex and subtle, they remain largely unexplored. Similar studies of elite ranks and variations in participation are also missing in industrialized societies. This is probably a result at least in part, of an apparent disjunction between local, regional, and national governments. The hierarchy of control of resources and the vertical integration of these units have increased sub­ stantially during the post-war years (Warren, 1963). Links between the elites of the dispersed hegemonic class, their differential participation in the emerging hierarchy of governments, and the implications for national policy-making have not been explored. At best, only the formal interdependence of the governments and the changing orientation of the local elite have been noted. The dispersion of the hegemonic class is a phenomenon not unique to India. One can see in the United States, for example, that although the ruling elite are dispersed widely over localities and between occupational groups, they share the basic attributes of a hegemonic class. 1 They dominate the economic and cultural orders and con­ trol local and regional governments. Their economic interests are intertwined with those of the large corporations as stock­ owners, and they often seek entry into regional and national politics depending upon their place in the intra-elite rank structure. The existence of similar hegemonic classes in Europe has also been noted. Their simultaneous domination of the economic and cultural orders since the war has contributed to the decline of the radical orientations of lower-class parties alluded to in the last chapter (Parkin, 1971; Kirchheimer, 1957). It is not enough merely to identify the existence of a hegemonic class, however; its structure and its implications for the privatization of the public sphere need

114 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule a detailed examination. The domination of these widespread hegemonic classes bas given pluralist democracies their strength and vitality. But such classes do not result only from industrialization or urbanization as the tradition-modernity theorists would have us believe. An unques­ tioned faith in the evolutionary perspective of modernity makes many students of comparative politics blind to the public-private tension between the ideology of the rulers and their governmental practice. 2 The analysis of elite behaviour presented in this chapter could be considered a partial corrective to these evolutionary misconceptions. The hegemonic elite is widely dispersed even within a single linguistic region such as Maharashtra (we have seen that the Marathas have no regional caste association and their caste bound­ ary has been traditionally flexible). The exercise of hegemony takes place through hierarchically organized and integrated political structures, using formally predetermined levels of autonomy and decentralized decision-making. The autonomy allows the control of the public sphere without an overarching regional organization, while the hierarchy and inclusiveness of the units guarantee the interdependence of various levels. Together they ensure an over­ all economic, cultural, and political hegemony. The hierarchy of the units maintains an internal rank-order and at the same time guarantees gradual and stable upward mobility for the more ambi­ tious within the elite. Simultaneously, formal structures exclude the unprivileged. The relative openness of the hierarchy, the possibility of move­ ment upwards, and the existence of formal democratic and deliberative procedures gives the various units in the public sphere the appearance of an open arena, although in reality only the elite can engage in market-type, competitive activity. We have identified the three levels of hierarchy within the rural sector as the village, the raluka, and the district. The major arenas are those of the panchayat raj, co-operatives, and educational institutions, each arena having units at each level. The units of the panchayat raj are obviously the most hierarchically organized in tenns of more inclusive authority and control over resources. The co-operatives do not exactly parallel thaLstructure, but those at the higher levels usually have more resources, cover wider areas, and have larger memberships. Similarly, the educational institutions al the higher levels tend to be bigger, richer, and more generously supported by public funds.

Political Arenas and the Elite 115 Since the elite enter the public sphere with the intention of controlling it and having their specific interests safeguarded through governmental action, we should expect to find a good deal of varia­ tion in their participation. The privatization of the public sphere cannot be accomplished by direct and open violation of the rules designating resources as public. The major mechanism of elite manipulation therefore has to be patronage. It links the interests, rank, and activities of the elites to the appropriate levels of govern­ ment. At the lowest level of the hierarchy are the faction leaders, who, as owners of substantial land, must seek various inputs out­ side the traditional avenues of exchange. Inputs of seeds, fertilizers, credit, storage, and marketing are all located within governmental or semigovernmental agencies. A village leader, if and when he becomes leader of an alliance, must satisfy not only his own needs but those of the other faction leaders whose support he needs. Patronage in this context means either occupying positions within the government or maintaining a patron-client relationship with someone occupying such a position. The appropriate level of involvement is determined by the nature and intensity of interest in the acquisition of resources. Since patronage involves mono­ polization of or preferential access to goods and services formally destined for general distribution, the line between legal and illegal monopolization is very narrow. As far as possible patrons and clients will seek to retain the legal fiction, so that patronage, be­ comes difficult to locate in concrete terms. An ability to retain the legal limits without losing exclusive control over the resources implies a high level of political sophistication and skills of mani­ pulating a variety of rules, regulations, and personalities. SOME ILLUSTRATIONS OF PATRONAGE

Survey data cannot show how an official position allows one to privatize the public sphere. Since the relevant activities always appear along the thin line of discretion and violation of formal rules, they are difficult to identify as patronage. Whether it is party funding in industrial societies or small bribes to accelerate the work of a public servant in India, we are witnessing only the tip of a mammoth iceberg. It is therefore important to recognize its essential aspects: it is a mechanism of translating the designated resources in the public sphere into privileged, selective rewards of private benefit. For the hegemonic elite involved in a hierarchical relationship with other members of their class, it is a mechanism

I 16 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule for the exercise of personal rulership. There are a number of ways in which an executive officer (a chairman or the president) of a zilla parishad or a panchayat samiri can use his office to secure political loyalty from the subordinate alliance leaders. The transfer of teachers is one of the most com­ mon fonns of the exercise of patronage in the zilla parishad.s. Many schooheachers are recruited from within the district, oflen the kin or political allies of a village faction leader. Regulations require that teachers be transferred at regular intervals. The faction leaders and the teachers, however, desire that the latter be allowed to stay in or be retransferred to their own villages. For gaining employment for the kin and allies and for ensuring that they are located in specific villages, the elite in the zilla parishads approach the civil servants over whom they exercise some authority. They are asked to ignore or bend the general rules ostensibly created for the purpose of general welfare. Similarly, licensing, introduced ostens­ ibly to ensure the supply of goods to the general population, is turned into a source of rewards for political support. The same rules can be used as negative sanctions against teachers or clients who support a rival alliance leader. Whenever convenient an alliance leader takes shelter behind bureaucratic norms and formal rules to avoid an undesirable or politically inconsequential request for the exercise of patronage. An even more glaring example of the exercise of patronage comes from the manipulation of a program expressly directed at poorer farmers and tenants. Known as the 'Page scheme,' it was intended to provide small farmers with milk cows at minimal cost. The intention was to provide milk for the family and to supple­ ment their incomes through the sale of milk. The elite managed to privatize the program in three ways: a son of a rich farmer would be designated a small farmer and the family given the cow; a widow's name was used to give a cow to her rich inlaws; or a cow was as­ signed to a poor tenant or labourer but was in fact used by the elite patriarch. By themselves these may appear to be small and insignificant cases of patronage. They are cited here because they are among the few brought out into the open and for which evidence exists. They are part of an established and widespread system, not just stray aberrations. The examples are from a panchayar samiti which operates at the taluka level. A more substantial case was found in a co-operative district land development bank. The state Depart­ ment of Co-operation charged the chairman of the bank on the

Political Arenas and the Elite 117 following counts: changing the figure of a bank-sanctioned loan to his cousin fromRs I 0,000 to 25,000, approving a loan ofRs 35,000 to his brother-in-law for a non-existent irrigation project, giving himself a loan of Rs 35,000 using as collateral his already heavily mortgaged land, using bank funds to purchase and repair motor vehicles which were sold for personal profit, and forcing his em­ ployees to comply with these fraudulent intentions. 3 These allegations suggest the various possibilities for privatized allocation of public funds. The bank chairman in this case was a major alliance leader, one of the elite respondents in our survey, with a reported annual income (in 1967) of Rs 10,000. He came from a village where his father had been a patil. He admitted to owning 35 acres (the limit under the Ceilings Act) of good land and was known to have over four times more. He was not a small and poor public official giving himself a little extra reward. He was practising personal rulership by ensuring the support of the factional leaders, who in this case happened to be his kin, as well as embez­ zling some public funds. The circumstances under which the charges were brought against the chairman are also significant. He belonged in turn to a higher alliance whose leader was engaged in intense rivalry with the minister for co-operation. The rivalry had intensified with the decline in Y .B. Cha van's dominance in the district (a consequence of Chavan's decline at the centre; see chapter 5). The chairman's opponents took this opportunity to attack him with the help of their senior alliance leader, the minister for co-operation. The chairman was subsequently removed from his post, though never charged in a court of law, an ally of the minister succeeded him. In this case the minister was claimed to have used his formal bureaucratic powers to enhance the cause of his alliance. At higher levels of government, patronage usually takes this kind of indirect form. A senior alliance leader, in this case the mini­ ster, creates opportunities for his loyal supporters to have direct access to public resources, their loyalty depending on it. The bureau­ cracy is also used against supporters of rival alliances, although, since all supporters of a rival alliance are potential supporters of one's own, punishments are limited and temporary. The hierar­ chical organization of bureaucratic units allows for greater use of indirect patronage at each higher level and gives higher-level alliance leaders greater access to negative sanctions through the use of formal and legal or bureaucratic and regulatory structures. Since exposure by rivals for 'misuse of public funds' is always a

118 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule possibility, privatization must always operate within some kind of a procedural consensus between rivals and within a relatively stable structure of obligations. This explains the predominance of sym­ bolic rewards in the routine exercise of patronage. Rewards for loyalty are given in the form of gestures of recognition of various kinds. A senior alliance leader such as a cabinet minister may choose to stay with one ally and not another in his visit to a district, may ask one but not another to share a platform at a public meeting, may take more favoured allies into his own car during a motorcade, or do a hundred other things which discriminate, only symbolically, in favour of an ally whose support is considered most valuable at a given juncture. Such symbolic acts are carried out in full public view, and the message is intended more for those who are watching than for the one singled out for the favour. This distinction is crucial. We are not concerned with the psychic aspects of the interac­ tion between the leader and the ally but with the symbolic aspect. The meanings attached to the actions of the alliance leader are shared not only by the two but by all the relevant others. The action is intended to symbolize the patronage potential of the chosen ally based on his easy access to the senior patron. 4 Such symbolic re­ wards, in order to retain their meaning for the participants, must be translatable and actually translated into material rewards. They may take the form of the acceleration of the bureaucratic process, an eventual appointment to a public office, or some such expression of privileged access to the public domain. There is a strong emphasis on maintaining the myth of the universality of the legal and bureaucratic structures of democracy. The patron-client relationships minimize overt flaunting of rules and regulations. Symbolic rewards become a highly sophisticated and widely shared substitute currency for exchange in patronage­ based alliance relationships. Since fluctuations in the fortunes of rival aJ1iances are continuously taking place, the danger of con­ sequent negative sanctions for violation of law is ever present. Even if no severe consequences follow, exposures cause embarrass­ ment and at times a loss of power. The ability to transmit and interpret symbols signifying patronage becomes essential for successful participation in the governmental sector. This dimension of personal rulership, however, is not easily accessible through survey data. Nor is it easy to illustrate the use of patronage through elaborate content analysis of the evidence of legal or executive punitive actions. For every reported case of corruption there are likely hundreds of cases of legally justifiable or unjustifiable but

Political Arenas and the Elite 119 unreported corruption or patronage. What is possible, however, is an inference about rulership strategies from the composite evidence on differential participation by the elite in the various arenas. PATRONAGE POTENTIAL OF DIFFERENT ARENAS

Access to public resources can be gained and controlled through participation in various arenas, which in this sense represent alter­ nate opportunity structures (Rosenthal, 1970a) for the hegemonic class. Its members can choose to participate in those arenas which provide the most desired resources in adequate quantities. There are major differences, for instance, between the panchayati raj and the co-operatives. The units of the panchayati raj are all­ pervasive, including a wide range of activities. Their leaders are elected through adult franchise and are formally responsible to the entire electorate, whereas co-operatives, formally speaking, are, voluntary organizations and their boards of directors are only responsible to their membership. In the former, membership consists of all the citizens of the district, while in the latter the membership itself can be used as a mechanism for excluding many from access to resources. The co-operatives are also less open to demands for equity and justice and hence need less effort to maintain the democratic myth. As a result they have become a much more lucrative way of monopolizing the resources of the public, given to them in the form of government subsidies and exclusive markets. In addition, the executive branch of the panchayati raj is formally more protected from direct coercive sanctions by the elected elite than that of the co-operatives. The personalization of decision­ making, therefore, has to be more indirect in the panchayati raj. Prospects for the exercise of patronage are much greater, however, because the resources available per unit are varied and larger. In the final analysis, the affairs of the co-operatives are also hierarchi­ cally organized through credit control and supervision by the co­ operative banks and finally by the state government. For those members of the rural society who seek direct patronage through privileged allocation of inputs (seeds, credit, fertilizers, licences), the co-operatives are much more important than the panchayati raj. In addition to the panchayati raj and the co-operatives, educa­ tional institutions also exist as possible arenas for elite participation. Their potential for direct patronage is much less. The state govern­ ment pays all the costs of primary education and most of the costs

120 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule of secondary and post-secondary education. Prospects for direct personal rewards from sponsoring educational institutions do exist. Rosenthal mentions drawing on students and teachers as political workers, padding attendance records, kickbacks from teachers' salaries, and contracts for services and accommodation as direct patronage possibilities (1974a, 83). All these were observed to be in existence in our studies of district politics. There ha, been quite a rapid expansion in the number of educational institutions in rural Maharashtra, indicating that al some levels of political aspiration educational institutions constitute a significant arena. The panchayati raj, the co-operatives, and the educational institu­ tions constitute the three major governmental arenas of patronage. The organization of the Congress Party, on the other hand has no direct patronage potential. It is important for the elite because it constitutes the major link between patronage-based aspirations and the formally democratic processes of adult franchise. The primary function performed by the party organization is that of screening the applications of aspirants to various contests in the governmental sector. The Congress committees at the various levels of raluka, district, and state become the meeting places for all the major alliances which rival each other for control of political offices (Rosenthal, 1974b). Leaders of all alliances are usually represented on the various Congress committees. The quality of mediation varies depending on whether there is a dominant al­ liance in full control at a given level. The party organization acquires importance when the rival alliances are evenly matched; its activities become a ritual acclamation of a dominant alliance if the rival alliances are splintered or weak. All the major political arenas are hierarchically organized. For those in the government sector, final supervisory and financial control rests with the state government. As far as the Congress Party in Maharashtra is concerned, until 1972 and after mid-1974 its leadership at the state level was fully integrated with the leader­ ship of the governmental wing of the party (see chapter 5). The over-all dominance of Y.B. Chavan was nearly complete until 1972 and constituted the major integrating force even in 1975. This does not mean that at the state level rival alliances and competition did not or do not exist, merely that they remain fuJJy contained within the party apparatus. The disciplined competition between rival alliances is facilitated by the correspondence between the hier­ archical levels of the various arenas. The panchayati raj units correspond to the traditional political units of village, ta/uka,

Political Arenas and the Elite 121 and district. The major co-operative activities of credit, marketing, and input distribution (central co-operative banks, land develop­ ment banks, sale and purchase unions) also correspond to these units. In the case of the Congress Party organization, there are corresponding units for a group of villages (mandals), a taluka, and a district. The rough correspondence between these units and their final integration with the state administration also facilitate closer links between the governmental and partisan activities of the elite at all levels. The specifically partisan aspects of the personal rulership strategy consist of matching the arenas of patronage with the aspirations of the various contestants. This is accomplished through the com­ plex system of alliances. These alliances are not temporary patch­ works of diverse interests brought together by a desire for electoral gains. Their continuity and flexibility distinguishes them from the painful and largely unsuccessful deliberations between various opposition parties that try to fonn electoral alliances with the inten­ tion of defeating the candidates of the Congress Party. The key to the stability and flexibility of the Congress Party is in the sophis­ tication with which the Maratha elite manipulate the structure of alliances in such a way that the aspirations of most of the dominant Marathas-and a few non-Marathas-are adequately met over a period of time. Distinctions are sometimes made between the various arenas by assuming that they represent conflicting interests within the rural society. Wherever conflicts occur between the elites in different arenas they are mostly between different alliances rather than in­ terests. In spite of the differences in patronage potential, the tendency among the elite is to seek to command and dominate as many arenas as possible. On the basis of data collected in 1963, Carras, for example, posited the emergence of a conflict between various economic interests; she saw zilla parishads becoming a battleground between political and economic interests in Mabarashtra (Carras, 1972). Such polarization has failed to materialize. In fact the rural gentry seems to treat all the arenas as equally open for the fulfilment of their aspirations for control of public resources ( Rosenthal, 1972). Simultaneous control of different arenas enhances the patronage potential of an alliance leader. The Maratha elites try to become multiple entrepreneurs covering the entire gamut of the available arenas. Sometimes the battle lines may appear to be drawn between the arenas, but all the evidence indicates that such situations are only temporary. There

l22 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

=

2

=

=

P

P

=

are differences in the patterns of participation in the different arenas because of the differences in their patronage potential. However. the elite also try to gain control over as many of the arenas as possible. PARTICIPATION IN DIFFERENT ARENAS

In describing the hierarchy of elite participation we are dealing with those who aspire to offices and those who occupy them at levels above the village. 5 We have separated the village leaders from this group (data on village leaders were collected separately and are often not comparable). Roughly speaking, village leaders

Political Arenas and the Elite 123

P

2

58

2

P

can be identified as the faction leaders in our model, and the res­ pondents included in this chapter as the alliance leaders, although this is not true in all cases. A dominant village leader from a large village may simultaneously command alliance-leader status; several of the aspirants to public offices included in this chapter were not alliance leaders. The roughness of these classifications notwith­ standing, we .are able to see an overwhelming predominance of Marathas at all levels of government when we look at the distribu­ tion of the voters, village leaders, and alliance leaders (Table 38). Moreover, the wealthier and the more educated among them tend

124 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule to become alliance leaders (fables 39 and 40). The comparable data on landholding for the elite also suggest that the bigger land­ holders gravitate towards the higher levels (Table 41). Since the rural elites are primarily cultivators (over 70 per cent of the village leaders, for example) the size of the holding must play a crucial role in their choice of the level of activity. Over 80 per cent of our village leaders owned more than ten acres, and 40 per cent had more than twenty. As producers of agricultural surplus, they have a major stake in the public sphere. They must try to gain as much of a privileged access to resources as possible. Those with more substantial landholdings are likely to try to diversify their enterprise and hence may wish to move towards the higher levels in the hierarchy. This group of alliance leaders includes a few non-Marathas. Within the non-Maratha castes the patriarchal-patrimonial struc­ ture exists also, and wherever numbers permit it may lead to a hierarchy of alliance structures. For reasons discussed earlier, these leaders and their alliances are localized and participate only on the terms set by the Maratha elite. Of those whose applications for Congress Party nominations were rejected, some were leaders of weaker alliances, while others were only front-candidates for disgruntled alliance leaders. Similarly, many of the opposition candidates were not leaders of any substantial alliances. In looking at the data on the nature of participation in various arenas of politics these factors should be kept in mind. They have also con­ tributed to the fact that among the alliance leaders included in our sample are several who belong to the unprivileged groups in terms of caste, income, and landholding. Their presence points to the formal openness of a pluralist democratic system. But a detailed look at the pattern of participation reveals the structure of inequality built into these formally open arenas. Let us begin with participation in the village panchayats. 6 We first distinguish the officials (sarpanch and deputy sarpanch) and those who are active in the village government from ordinary members. The official positions are primarily held by the Marathas and to some extent by the upper and middle castes. The scheduled castes are practically excluded from the leadership of the affairs of the village (fable 42), as shown by our data on village leaders collected from over fifty villages in five districts. The presence of the scheduled castes in the panchayats as members is a result of the formal requirement for their representation. Over 60 per cent of our respondents were primarily involved in

Political Arenas and the Elite 125 panchayat,

II

NOTE:

2

=

=

P

1a/11ka

I

NOTE:

2

=

P

units other than the village panchayat. At the two higher units of the panchayati raj (the panchayat samiti and the zilla parishad) as well the Marathas control key positions and members of the scheduled castes are practically excluded (Table 43). They are elected to these units from the reserved constituencies but are given positions only when legally required. The officials at these levels come mostly from high- and middle-income groups. Positions within these higher units allow the occupants a wide range of dis­ cretionary powers with respect to the distribution of resources

126 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

5

20

7

28

19

NOTE:

2

P

=

5 37

II 54 NOTE:

2

=

P=

(examples of these were cited earlier). There is a major difference. therefore, between an official and an ordinary member in the panchayati raj. Those who become presidents of the zilla parishads or chairmen of committees, like Patil in our case study in the second chapter, usually enjoy the status of major alliance leaders. These or similar alliance leaders also rise to the top positions in the structure of the co-operatives, such as the large sugar mills and the co-operative banks. The two most significant factors for dominance in co-operatives are caste and income (Tables 44 and 45). ln contrast with the two major arenas of direct patronage.

Political Arenas and the Elite 127 TABLE46

5

NOTE:

2

P

membership and domination of educational institutions shows no significant pattern in the relative privilege of the participants. Some of the rich Marathas become involved in these enterprises, perhaps because it adds to their prestige as Rosenthal points out (1974a). In fact there may be a mutual accretion to prestige for both the institution and the major alliance leader whose name is associated with a school or college in some trusteeship or executive capacity. In comparison with the leadership of the panchayati raj and the co-operatives, where they are totally excluded, a strikingly large number of members of the scheduled castes have official positions in educational institutions. Members of the upper and middle castes are also involved in their management (Table 46) in part a carryover from the sectoral nature of the enterprise before independence (Rosenthal, 1974a). Because of the constitutional provisions for educational facilities for the scheduled castes, special educational institutions (hostels, trade schools, etc.) exist whose control is frequently in the hands of the leaders of the scheduled castes. This also accounts for their presence in the management roles in the educational sector. One other area of political activity was investigated which has no patronage potential whatsoever but is important in view of the citizen's ability to reflect on the system as a whole. Marches and demonstrations to protest against the policies of a government, when not part of a partisan activity, suggest a possible doubt about the normal institutionalized procedures for demand articulation.

128 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule TABLE 47 Position in para-partisan activity, by caste (percentages in parenthesis) Member

None

Row totals

(20.0)

9 (60.0)

53 (58.2)

63 (56.8)

I (20.0)

3 (20.0)

16 (17.6)

20 (18.0)

3 (60.0)

3 (20.0) 15 (13.S)

22 (24.2) 91 (82.0)

28 (25.2) Il l (100.0)

Official I

Maratha Upper and middle castes Mahar and scheduled castes

5

Total

(4.5) NOTE:

X' = 3.90561,

df = 4,

P = 0.419

In spite of the futility of such efforts under entrenched hegemonic regimes, their presence is often a sign of some critical consciousness or frustration among members of a society. Further, even the party or regime-supportive non-institutionalized activity is associa­ ted with an element of doubt about the system. In any case when we look at these extrasystemic activities (involving, for example, organizational work among slum dwellers and wage-workers, marches protesting the national policies, or work in special fund campaigns) their unattractiveness to the hegemonic elite becomes quite visible. This also seems to be the only type of activity in which the unprivileged take the initiative and become leaders. However, the numbers are too small to allow any significant conclusions (Table 47). Nevertheless, participation in para-partisan activities gives aspirants from unprivileged groups an opportunity to become involved in politics. In some cases the most vocal and the most able do become absorbed into the domain primarily controlled by the privileged Marathas. Their inclusion invariably takes place on terms set by the elite, but at the same time it gives an appearance of equality of opportunity and the possibility of redistribution of privilege. lt also destroys critical attitudes towards oppressive institutions. PRINCIPAL ARENAS AND LEVELS OF GOVERNMENT

The elite Maratha participation in the leading positions in the

Political Arenas and the Elite 129

5

5

NOTE: )( 2

=

I

5

=

=

P

=

P=

5

NOTE: )( 2

=

panchayati raj and co-operatives is in striking contrast to its minimal interest in heading the para-partisan activities and its less than total involvement in educational organizations. The same contrast manifests itself when comparing principal arenas of activity. The principal arena was defined in this case as the one in which the person held his highest official position or, if he had no official position, the one in which he spent the maximum number of years ofhis public life. Party politics is included as an arena. The Marathas are concentrated in the panchayati raj and the co-operatives,

130 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule whereas the Mahars and the other scheduled-caste elite are primarily to be found in other, para-partisan, or educational activities. The upper and middle castes are concentrated more within the party organization than in the co-operatives or panchayati raj. The Mahars and the members of the other scheduled castes also have more than a proportionate share of party positions. Those who are inactive in all arenas tend to be primarily from the unprivileged castes (Table 48). Even within the two most lucrative arenas the Marathas, especially the very rich (Table 49), tend to prefer the co-operatives to the panchayati raj. While party organization is of great importance to all the political elites, it is not the principal arena of activity for the more privileged. Apparently those members of the rural elite who are at the highest level of privilege do not bother to involve themselves directly in the organizational activities of the party. Many of them are usually members of the party execu­ tive and exercise influence on the deliberations of the party machine without treating that role as their major preoccupation. The image of co-operatives as the exclusive clubs of the most influential and the very rich is further substantiated by the facts in these tables. If the party organization is indeed an arena for hard bargaining between rival alliances, it does not seem to have that kind of impor­ tance in the minds of the more fortunate members of the rural elite. Long service within the party organization does not auto­ matically or necessarily open the doors to offices of patronage. Members of the rich, dominant elite, primarily the High Marathas, concentrate their efforts in the arenas in which they can maximize their gains. They may enter other arenas as and when it is necessary or beneficial or as a token of their involvement in all aspects of democratic politics, but they leave these arenas open to the few less privileged but politicized members of the rural society. Such arenas, as in the case of the educational institutions, are not necessarily devoid of rewards to participants. Wherever the rewards are small and the risks high or where competition with the parvenus is likely to be intense, the pragmatic, well-established middle peasant leaves the arena to the unestablished or the under­ privileged groups. He can enter or leave them at will. What's more, he can control the entry of the others into any arena he wishes to monopolize; direct or indirect coercion, direct or indirect patron­ age. and the openness of the peripheral avenues of participation are all used strategically to maintain the personalized rulerships of the leaders of the entrenched alliances. 7 The dominant elite chooses not only the arenas in which it

Political Arenas and the Elite 131 participates but also the levels at which it wishes to concentrate. The importance of the hierarchical nature of the units of the panchayati raj, co-operatives, and the Congress Party organiza­ tion was emphasized earlier. The two political units operating at the village level are the panchayats and the multi-purpose co­ operative societies. Neither of them, especially the panchayat, has substantial discretionary powers for disbursement of public funds. Their budgets are small and their subsidjes almost totally under the control of the higher units. Their powers of taxation do not enable them to raise adequate funds for autonomous expendi­ ture. A village co-operative is somewhat more autonomous in its dealings but still cannot be considered a source of large-scale patronage. The typical village co-operative society is a credit society. However, many of them have been turned into multi-purpose societies. In addition to handling the disbursement of loans to members, they may be involved in handling the distribution of agricultural inputs and the marketing of agricultural produce. The credit aspect is linked to the district central bank and through it to the apex state bank. The officers of the Co-operation Depart­ ment of the state government are located at the raluka and district levels and are expected to exercise some control over the units below them. Even though the village co-operative can be used to gain direct access to the primary inputs, much wider opportunities for patronage exist at the higher levels: the taluka or djstrict banks or larger producers' co-operatives (e.g. sugar mills) whose finances are substantial and whose clientele extends over many villages. The Congress Party maintains no active units of organization at the village level. The comparable unit of the party, the Manda! congress, covers several villages. It performs few functions, is generally excluded from alliance bargruning, and does not appear in the deliberations for electoral nominations. Together, the units at the village level at best provide the minimum of direct personal access to inputs on an exclusive basis. For any activity in need of more resources or a more complex combination of them, an aspirant must look at the higher levels in the hierarchy. The units at the taluka level have a much greater possibility for delivering patronage; but the most important units below the state for all arenas are located at the district level. The various co­ operative banks, the zilla parishads, and the district Congress committees perform the majority of important discretionary functions in their own domains and have the greatest salience for the alliance leaders who seek to maximize control over the district.

132 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule TABLE 50 Level of polilical activity, by caste (percenlages in parenthesis) Taluka

District

Row to1als

(33.3)

23 (76.7)

22 (53.6)

54 (55.1)

4 (14.8)

6 (20.0)

10 (24.4)

20 (20.4)

9 (22.0) 41 (41.8)

24 (24.5) 98 (100.0)

Village Maratha Upper and middle castes Mahar and scheduled cas1es Total NOT£:

X1 = 19.4494.

9

14 (51.9) 27 (27.6) df = 4,

I (3.3)

30 (30.6)

P < 0.001

Membership in an organization is usually necessary but is not sufficient by itself to provide the ability to control it. Only an official position guarantees control. A few political actors at the village level may eventually transform themselves into alliance leaders, but most of them cannot. Many maintain direct access to the alliance leaders but usually on terms set by the latter. In short, in terms of the most rewarding level of activity a village has little to offer the rural elite. The Marathas are primarily involved, therefore, at the taluka and district levels. We are dealing not with those who have chosen to be village leaders but with aspirants and occupants of higher offices. Hence the total number of those active only at the village level is very small. It is significant, however, that of those aspiring to higher positions only the scheduled caste members failed to progress beyond the level of the village (Table 50). The Marathas are more heavily concentrated at the taluka level because most of the big processing co-operatives are treated as ta!uka-level units. The more-than-proportionate participation of upper and middle castes at the district level reflects their continued participa­ tion in the party organization. We have discussed elite participation in various arenas and at various levels as a matter of choice between various alternatives. For many members of the elite, it is a question of deciding where they can most effectively concentrate their effort and from where they will be able to maximize the benefits. The basic tendency for the elite, however, is to gain control of as many arenas and at as many levels as possible. New arenas obviously enhance patronage

panchayat

apanchayat 6

NOTE:

2

=

=

5

P

panchaya,

apanchayat

I

NOTE:

2

=

5

P

5

134 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule is tantamount to control over all the lower levels in a given hierarchy. There are exceptions in specific cases where an alliance leader formally operating from a lower level controls more resources than those at the higher levels. The most inclusive and desirable position, therefore, must be the one which gives direct access to all major arenas at all levels. Next in priority should be the control of several activities at the highest, the district, level. Control over all units at the village level also signifies the status of an unchallenged alliance leader. Active participation in fewer activities than these shows declining ability to control the resources. Although we are dealing with small numbers in this case, the pattern is significant. As multiple entrepreneurs, the Marathas are disproportionately in command (fable 51 ). The upper castes and the other middle castes share the honour, while the members of the scheduled castes remain active mostly at the village level and in fewer than three activities. These data are based on official positions as well as memberships. The mere number of activities of involvement is not a definitive indication of control. Even with this reservation, however, the pattern of simultaneous domination by the elite Marathas as rich landlords is quite obvious (fable 52). Another clear indication of the preference of the elites for multiple membership can be found in the manner in which memberships and positions held in various arenas overlap. The most conspicuous were the overlaps between the official positions held in the units of the local government and the party organization (r = 0.2896 at the 0.001 level of significance), the co-operatives (r = 0.2130 at 0.00 I), and the educational institutions (r = 0.2178 at 0.005). All three, it should be recalled, have direct access to resources in the public realm. Official positions in them, not mere membership, give the ability to use discretionary powers. The most significant overlaps in membership were observed between the co-operatives and the units of local government (0.2795 at 0.001) and the party (0.3297 at 0.001). The party retains its significance for those who have yet to attain official positions in the co-operatives but not for those who have already gained that status. In the local govern­ ment units on the other hand, even for the officials, the party is important as an arena for bargaining with rival alliances. Their constituencies include all citizens and several factions and alliances; they must face periodic electoral contests; and through the party organization they can try to secure the co-operation of rivals. The desirability of multiple membership and control of official positions must be obvious to the politicized rural elite. Those who

Political Arenas and the Elite 135 cover the widest range at the highest level and occupy relatively high official positions are in the best position to secure the maximum benefits from governmental resources. From each of the various vantage points in our analysis the elite Maratha dominance is unmistakable. Entry into higher positions in these arenas is rarely automatic or instant. Information collected by a single survey cannot rule out the possibility of upward mobility. Possibly those at the village level may slowly rise to the higher levels and enter several arenas through democratic competition. On the face of it this may appear reasonable. Nearly 60 per cent of our elite respon­ dents first started at the village level. Some of them are oon­ Marathas who are now active at higher levels and in several arenas. A look at their time of entry into politics shows that of those who entered politics after independence all started at the village level. Of those who were in politics before, many were non-Marathas, active in the independence movement. If we exclude them from the general picture because of their small numbers and declining years, we are left with a pattern in which establishing oneself in politics at the village appears to be a necessity for further advance­ ment. This only means that in the post-independence period one cannot expect to enter the political system without an ability to exercise the patriarchal-patrimonial strategy. Democratic politics requires an ability to control the economic and the cultural order of the society so that the loyalty of the citizens can be secured without effective major changes in the structure of privilege. In rural India this means the exercise of hegemony by the dominant castes. It is not surprising therefore that, although all political aspirants started at the viJlage level, in the three decades after independence only the elite Marathas succeeded in rising rapidly to the higher levels and taking control of all the major arenas. There seems little reason to believe that unprivileged aspirants who also started at the village but have remained there will, through the magic of formal democracy, suddenly begin to move upwards. There is, in fact, good reason to believe that those members of the upper, middle, and scheduled castes who are at the higher levels today are a carryover from pre-independence politics. Prior to 1947 nationalist politics involved some hardships. Forty of our respondents were over fifteen years of age in 1942 when the major civil disobedience movement started. Nearly 70 per cent of those who could have thus entered the independence movement did not. The rich Marathas were in a disproportionately large number among those who chose to stay out or support the regime at that

136 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

5

2

=

=

9

P=

5

2

=

P

time. Although the numbers are small, they suggest a pattern. The elite Marathas entered local politics in large numbers only when its contribution to the hegemonic dominance became safe and substantial (Tables 53 and 54). Non-participation in the inde­ pendence movement does not seem to have hurt the prospects of the rich Marathas in post-independence politics. It is of course true that none of the scheduled-caste respondents had participated in the independence movement. The Congress Party had done little radical to cure the basic economic ills afflicting the scheduled castes. Its emphasis under Gandhi was on communal harmony and ritual equality between castes. 8 The only major

Political Arenas and the Elite 137 effect of the Gandhian concern for the depressed castes has been the increased educational opportunities and the subsequent rise of a /umpenproletariat in the rural sector (Franklin, 1970). The literature on political development assigns to education a very important role (Coleman, 1968), including that of changing the class structure (from a pyramid to a diamond : Nie, Powell, and Prewitt, 1969). The rise of the politically impotent educated sections within the unprivileged classes raises serious doubts about the redistributive potential of increased education in the Third World. The rewards from special programs for the education of the depres­ sed castes have been only marginal. The over-all progress of education has primarily benefited the rich and dominant Marathas (Kamat, A.R., 1968, 1973). More evidence to show that education need not be endowed with near-mystical qualities in the political sphere comes from our own data. We have in the previous pages studied the behaviour of the elite on eight different dimensions, in none of which was education found to be a statistically significant attribute. The best relationship was between village panchayat activity and education (at a low level of significance, P = 0.1 ). It is hardly necessary to point out that the emphasis on education stems from the evolu­ tionary vision of the pluralists which posits a unidirectional march of modernization to a more egalitarian society. CONCLUSION

This chapter has examined the evidence on elite participation in the various sectors of the public sphere in rural Maharashtra. Within the governmental elite we observed a structure, a hierarchy of inequality. Formal democratic systems require that all avenues of government remain open to all citizens. Since very few studies exist of the motives and interests of the elite, of their internal hierarchy, and of the patronage potential of the various arenas, the deceptive appearance of openness readily reaffirms the demo­ cratic myth. We have therefore subjected these variables to a detailed scrutiny. After elite participation is approached from a variety of perspectives, one unmistakable conclusion emerges: the elite Marathas determine the pattern of participation for all classes of rural society in Maharashtra. Their own participation is governed by their primary interest of privatization of the public sphere and the maintenance of hegemonic domination. Democratic and bureaucratic structures are strategically used to this end.

138 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule This chapter has also attempted to demonstrate the exercise of personal rulership. From the internal hierarchy of rank within the hegemonic elite we have seen how the various levels and arenas of politics can be djfferentiated according to interests based on this rank structure. Since the essence of personal ruJership is loyalty based on material rewards, we have examined patronage as the mecharusm of turning public funds into private rewards and looked at the patronage potential of various arenas. Data on participation showed that the Maratha elite tends to concentrate in arenas with the greatest patronage potential and at levels which provide the greatest control and access. These patterns appear even more convincing when participation is seen from the point of view of the principal arenas of elite activity and primary levels of participation. The tendency of the Maratha elite towards simul­ taneous domination in several arenas is also an indication of their hegemony and their command of the personal rulership strategy. One of the striking features of elite participation was found to be the irrelevance of education, as such, for a place within the elite hierarchy. lts impotence in providing mobility for the depressed castes is a function not merely of the traditional character of the society and polity but also of the low salience of education within the cultural order. To be educated in India is like being a humanist or a classicist in a society in which science and technology have become the dominant ideologies of the ruling classes. For the Maratha elites education in itself is not insig nificant. It is an impor­ tant tool in their ability to deal with and use the civil service and the external world in general. Given all the other attributes of privilege, education adds to the general stature of the elite and provides the necessary medium of communication. Those who attribute to education the function of increasing rationality, modernity, and urbanity have simply failed to observe these attri­ butes already in existence among so-called traditional elites. Analytical tools often turn into blinders. Our analysis should be considered a partial corrective to the evolutionary misconceptions about the middle classes in the Third World societies. The description of the hegemony of the Marathas and of their effective management of formal democratic structures is intended to show that in societies at different stages of economic development the middle classes show very similar patterns of political orientation because of the nature of privatization of the public sphere in which they are active. The wide dispersion of the Maratha elite (and of the landowning dominant castes in general),

Political Arenas and the Elite 139 the absence of a regional caste organization, and a flexible caste boundary also show that a hegemonic elite is not necessarily a conscious, homogeneous class of conspiring oppressors. Occupa­ tional differentiation, dispersion into a large number of autonomous communities, and multiple group participation need not negate the hegemonic consciousness of a ruling class. Hegemony implies not only economic and political but also cultural domination. Belief in the superiority of science and technology, acceptance of an inherent necessity of control over nature. and faith in infinite material progress have been basic to the Western cultural tradition at least since the Enlightenment (Habermas, 1970, 1974; Goldmann, 1969). These values are upheld and transmitted by the hegemonic classes and accepted, generally without question, by those who are not the major beneficiaries from the resulting institutional framework. The dispersion and differentiation of the beneficiaries and the dissemination of this cultural order need not be equated with the absence of these values. Their integration takes place through the corporate economic sector and politics. Our hypothesis, that the application of the public-private dichotomy to industrial societies and a consequent examination of middle class hegemony will reveal more than superficial parallels across the tradition­ modernity axis, does not seem farfetched. If confirmed, such a claim can throw light on the emerging centralizing tendencies in all democratic regimes. The projected rise of technocracy need not spell the end of democracy but may imply its continued use as a strategy of rulership. Major decisions about values and goals of the society, removed from the assemblies of public debate as they often are, nonetheless have to be made. Many are made either in secrecy or within the parameters of techno­ logical feasibility. In industrial as well as Third World societies the goals of economic recovery or development, national security, or integrity are considered too sacrosanct to receive scrutiny as ruling class ideologies. Moreover the basic practical decisions that ensue with respect to institutional arrangements and the nature of human development are being progressively entrusted to a limited alliance of the technocratic, economic, and political elite. Once the continuous and widespread existence of public apathy is assured by means of modulated prosperity, and the continued satisfaction of the hegemonic demands of the ruling elite is guaranteed through its participation at levels determined by aspiration, the centralization of decision-making may begin to appear a necessity to the citizens of all democratic societies. Pluralist

140 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule theory has already created the intellectual justifications. Mrs Gandhi's actions in 1975 should not be judged in isolation from the centralizing tendencies in all democratic regimes. Even under conditions of relative affluence every economic crisis leads hege­ monic classes to assert their interests and domination overtly. Social democratic regimes, which derive their support from the less-privileged groups through their ameliorative programs, have to yield power to those who promise protection to the institutions and interests of the hegemonic classes. The legitimizing goals are articulated in terms of stability, prosperity, and national interest. The widely dispersed hegemonic classes can hardly be considered a source of countervailing power (Galbraith, 1972). They actively support policies and decisions that contribute to the global planning of a society's future within technologically determined parameters. Such planning contributes to the protection and enhancement of their privilege. At the same time democratic institutions assure them the desired access and leverage. They will be able to have a place within a cybernetic order of relative autonomy and al a level that corresponds to their aspirations. Given the hierarchical organization of elite ranks and political units and the relatively autonomous power of decision-making within a globally planned society, the hegemonic classes will continue to uphold the democratic ideals and a technocratic reality. The exact manner in which aspirations are matched with access has not been described in this chapter. Once again, survey data fail to provide the information for such elaboration. In Maha­ rashtra. as in all democratic polities, political parties play a major role in this process. Parties usualJy have structures that parallel electoral constituencies or units of government and mediate between aspirations and access. Despite the diversity in the nominating procedures for public offices, political parties always play a signi­ ficant role in determining the most likely candidates. They also function as a training ground, attracting, on the level of active participation, only those who aspire to some control over the resources in the public sphere. Members of the hegemonic class usually dominate the party organizations, although they are open to necessary working alliances with other sections (Eldersveld, 1966, 47-97; Lele, Perlin, and Thorburn, 1972). The relationship between the hegemonic classes, their partisan activities, and their governmental aspirations warrant a detailed analysis in all demo­ cratic societies.

5 Democracy and Elite Interests: A Case Study

The last chapter showed how the High Maratha elite tends to be concentrated in official positions at higher levels and in arenas with greater patronage potential. The elite seeks control of as many arenas as possible but allows the entry of non-privileged persons where there is no threat to its over-all control, where the rewards are not substantial, or where formal rules require a token representation. The competition between the members of the elite and the absence of formal restrictions on entry create the illusion of openness and an expectation of the gradual percolation of rewards throughout the population. The strategies by which the elite maintains internal competition and rapid mobility for itself while circumscribing the public sphere from the possible entry of unprivileged groups are those of personal rulership. This chapter explains how these strategies are exercised in interpersonal relations. In the first part the discussion is kept at a general level, dealing primarily with electoral and partisan activities; this part is followed by two detailed case studies. ELECTIONS AND PERSONAL RULERSHIP

We have seen how the party organization is treated as an arena on a selective basis by the elite. The Congress Party has maintained an unbroken majority rule in the state since independence. The personnel of and the interactions between the party and the govern­ ment are often indistinguishable. For the elite, partisan involve­ ment is a precondition for entry into the governmental arenas. Under the system of adult franchise the basic partisan activities in pluralist democracies are choosing the candidates and running the campaigns. In India too the seekers of official positions in the

142 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule governmental arenas communicate formally with senior alliance leaders through the mechanism of the party. The established leaders thus use the party organization to increase, strengthen, or alter the membership of their alliances. The most sought-after party for electoral nominations is the Congress Party. In the light of its unbroken rule since independence this hardly needs an explanation. The Congress Party sets the tone for the activities of all other parties in Maharashtra and has succeeded in decimating the leader­ ship of the other parties through strategic absorption. The continuity and the stability of the Congress regime in Maharashtra should not be mistaken for a monolithic leadership. In fact the flexibility in the relationship between various alliance leaders, flexibility which results from fluid loyalties of clients and patrons, ensures stability. The support of the lower-level alliance and faction leaders should not be treated as routine and taken for granted. Its un­ certainty, paradoxicaJly, guarantees the stability of the Congress Party in Maharashtra. Basically, the Congress system is a set of rival alliances, fonning a hierarchy of inclusiveness, the units of which roughly correspond to the legislative-administrative units of taluka, district, and state. The lower-level alliances promise and deliver support to senior alliance leaders in anticipation or on delivery of rewards. The major manifestation of support is the delivery of the votes controlled by the faction leaders to an alliance leader or his designated candi­ date. The alliance leaders are the manipulators of the loyalties of their clients and of the public resources over which they have control. Their task is to match the two and create a mix that will maximize their own control in the public sphere. Alliances usually parallel electoral constituencies and include several factions. The system remains open for the competing alliances. With changing prospects for control over the public arenas, prospects for support from the factions and subordinate alliance leaders are also subject to rapid shifts. Since total un­ certainty is not desired by any of the alliance leaders, they often search for non-material bases of loyalty. Appeals to kinship and caste are common but may not be very effective beyond one's own village. However, since most alliance leaders begin as faction leaders they seek to retain that base by securing the loyalty of rival faction leaders, usually their kin; the desire to secure the loyalty of the entire village was illustrated by the example of Patil in chapter 2. The willingness of rival factions to remain donnant or be co-opted when a faction leader becomes an alliance leader was

Democracy and Elite Interests 143 also noted. These accommodations, however temporary, provide stability in a highly competitive system. The problem of the personal rulers becomes essentially the problem of manipulating the electoral process so as to keep the competition restricted to themselves while creating a myth of openness. The Congress Party organiza­ tion is used by both the aspirants and the established elite for matching patronage with electoral support. The two stages in which this matching takes place are the nomination of candidates and the election itself. The party has an elaborate set of procedures to ensure a proper hierarchy of control culminating in the Central Election Committee (CEC) at the national level. Committees with similar functions are maintained at the state level, such as the Pradesh Election Com­ mittee (PEC), and at the district level (DECs) Observers from the centre and state monitor the selection at the lower levels and report to the higher units (Roy, 1966). In spite of all these formal safe­ guards, selection committees are essentially the creatures of dominant alliance leaders. The national and state leadership maintains the fiction of formal rules so that they can be put to strategic uses. The main function of the committees, in fact, is that of effecting compromises between competing alliances. Even in districts and talukas in which nearly total control rests with one alliance, the rival alliances retain pockets of strength. To neutralize their possible revolt, the dominant alliance leaders, willingly and at times with the persuasion of the senior alliance leaders, give them a place on the selection committees and negotiate with them. The strategy of the weak in this case is to retain whatever access to resources they currently have, trying to prevent inroads by the stronger alliance into their own zones of support. The hierarchical nature of the governmental arenas facilitates compromises. The strong alliance leader offers positions to the weak on units of government below the level from which he operates. A state cabinet minister, for example, may concede to a rival alliance leader an official position on the zi/la parishad. The latter accepts it in order to retain his potential for patronage necessary for maintaining the loyalties of the supporting suballiances. He also expects to use such a position to enlarge his loyalty base by seeking alliances with other disgruntled suballiance leaders within the party. Thus contain­ ing the revolt of his rival, the stronger alliance leader can then work towards further erosion of the latter's support base. Through his access to greater and more important resources his task becomes easier. Every election can bring him closer to the goal of the extinc-

144 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule tion of his rival. However, complete extinction is rarely possible, and the process is constantly reversible. For a senior alliance leader the strength of one of his suballiance leaders may also present a threat; suppon could easily give way to competition. He must always keep open the option of shifting his patronage to a weaker suballiance leader. For this reason he may force some of his stronger supporters to make compromises with their weaker rivals. If the senior alliance leader is already threatened by a strong rival his strategy of compromise will be aimed at stopping the weak subleader from joining the competing alliance. Such strategies constitute the game plans of the alliance leaders. They become operative during the deliberations that go on in the selection committees at the various levels. The process of nomina­ tion of the party candidates to various electoral offices, a major mechanism for bargaining and for subsequent realignments. is usually conducted through a sophisticated interplay of formal and informal deliberative, persuasive, and punitive activities but rarely through an overt display of power. In the case of the senior alliance leaders, such as a minister for example, the rivals within the cons­ tituency may be so weak that they do not even apply for the party nomination for his legislative seal. They accept their subordinate alliance positions until they are relatively confident of success. When a cabinet minister is challenged by several others from his constituency, it is generally a sign of the rising strength of a rival alliance.• The existence of two nearly matched alliances leads to different configurations. Where a strong alliance leader is challenged by a nearly equal rival, the formal procedures for intervention from and an appeal to the higher unit are used. Informally, a senior alliance leader is called in to arbitrate. The prospects of a decline in support are far too great for both the competing alliance leaders, and compromises are not easy in such situations. Every official position within the governmental hierarchy becomes crucial. The game plans of the rivals therefore become much more complex. If one of the alliances is in charge of the party organization and thus dominates the selection committee, the rival may begin by challeng­ ing its legitimacy. Demands for its dissolution are made. Its recom­ mended list of candidates is appealed, and an alternative list is submitted. Depending upon their relative strength and on that of the higher alliances to which they are linked, the rebels are either chastized or supponed by the higher units. In the former case, efforts for compromise are intensified. Various indications of

Democracy and Elite Interests 145 relative strengths are sought (for example through an informal polling of the relevant faction and alliance leaders by an observer nominated by a higher unit). These are brought to the notice of the competing alliance leaders in order to make them see the advantages of a compromise. If the alliance leaders judged to be weaker by these indicators accept their validity, compromises are accepted and the real battle is postponed. If these or other indica­ tions convince a senior alliance leader that the challenging alliance is stronger, be may throw his weight in its favour. Through his control over the higher units of the party, be may arrange to have the local party unit and the selection committee dissolved. A substitute unit is then created with the rebels in control, and rival alliance leaders are invited to join in subordinate roles. But chal­ lenges and resolutions of this type are rare, usually occurring in situations where the electoral outcome is really unpredictable because the alliances are either equally strong or equally weak within the context of the total hierarchy in the state. Such a situation may arise when a senior alliance leader in a district or taluka dies or loses his links with a strong higher alliance. The various suballiances in his alliance, finding themselves without a sponsor or an arbitrator, are usually anxious to fill the gap, each with one of its own, or senior alliance leaders from neighbouring districts may seek to incorporate the leaderless suballiances into their own support structures. ln either case the competition shifts to a higher level. The rival alliances, out of weakness or strength, engage in a severe conflict. They are most unwilling to accept com­ promises. They expect no major gains or serious losses to their existing position through pragmatic alliances with the other aspirants. As long as senior alliance leaders do not perceive or cannot establish a clear-cut pattern of dominance, they are afraid of providing open support to any of the competitors. None of the rival alliances is able to make major gains in the control of official positions; patronage potential remains divided, and so do the loyalties of the suballiances. The nomination process in this case fails to resolve the conflict, and the battle is carried over into the electoral arena. The formal procedures of the Congress Party make it possible for all applicants to appeal to the CEC against the nominations made by the PEC. Compromises are usually attempted at each of the lower levels prior to the finalization of the PEC recommendations. In a district with a dominant alliance leader, the approved list of candidates usually reflects the relative strength of the strong and

146 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule weak alliances. When the list is forwarded to the PEC some adjust­ ments are made in consideration of interests of the alliances at the state level. Alliance leaders from a district, if dissatisfied with the compromises worked out by the DEC, seek support from the state­ level alliance leaders from other districts and sometimes succeed in getting parts of a list favourably altered. If a given district leader holds a strong position at the state level, such alterations are rare. On the other hand if he belongs to a weaker state alliance his rival may be able to negotiate a major share of seats. In Maharashtra most aspirants do not press their appeals beyond the PEC. Until 1972, Y.B. Chavan was considered such a supreme state leader that all nominations had to be approved by him before they were submitted to the CEC. In 1967 one of his rivals at the centre tried to intervene in favour of four of his allies from Maharashtra. Chavan could be persuaded to accept only one of these requests. 2 In 1972, however, when Chavan's position at the Centre had weakened, he was unable to stop the nominations of several of his local and national rivals. ln states without one recognized dominant leader, the battles for the entire lists of nominations end up with the CEC. It tries to resolve the conflict through protracted negotiations and if necessary resolves it by decree. The latter course is adopted only after fully considering the possible consequences of displeasing one or the other set of alliance leaders for the success of the party candidates. For most aspirants, the announcement of the list of candidates represents the end of the road. Some of the rejected applicants withdraw from the scene in order to renew their quest for another office at another time or at another level. Alliance leaders often apply for a nomination at a level higher than they really wish to attain in order to enhance their chances for the desired office. Some, having recognized their weakness through the demonstration of lack of support, do not expect to be nominated for any office and remain where they started, hoping to stage a comeback after improv­ ing their position. All these aspirants accept the verdict given in their favour or against by the senior leaders of the party. A dominant alliance leader like Chavan rejects applications not only from members of rival alliances but also from some of his own supporters. In neither case is the decision challenged. This acquiescence rests on the calculation of relative strength. Continued loyalty to the party is assured because of expectations of future rewards. Aspirants remain within the party and stay attached to their alliances even though their ambitions may have been thwarted and no political

Democracy and Elite Interests 147 office is offered. Proximity to an alliance leader in office is preferred to joining an opposition party which has no access to resources. Although most aspirants do not challenge the party openly, in some cases major shifts in alliance loyalties take place before and after the nomination process unfolds. These moves are made after detailed calculations of the possible costs and benefits. It would be a mistake to treat the willingness of the 'rejects' to remain loyal to the party as an indication of strong party identi­ fication. Whereas the voters' identification with the party is basically an expression of ritualized loyalty, that of an alliance leader is mostly a reflection of his calculations of gain. The party organiza­ tion, through formal and informal procedures, attempts to resolve the conflicting claims of rival alliances in such a way that the system is not threatened with a breakdown. The manner in which the compromises are worked out have the appearance of 'interest aggregation and articulation' (Almond and Powell, 1966). The shared interest which both divides and unites the ruling elite is control of the arenas of public life. Uncertainty and competition are accepted as necessary and desirable as long as they do not threaten the stability of the system. The common goals of maintain­ ing stable hegemony and the concomitant procedural consensus by the competing elites which characterize the interactions between the elites of different political parties in pluralist democracies (Mann, 1970) can be found within the Congress Party in India. So long as the outcomes of competition can be predicted with reasonable confidence, the rival alliance leaders accept the formal and procedural constraints established by the Congress Party and remain its loyal supporters. For them party identification remains the best possible alternative. When the outcome is quite unpredictable, however, the competition does not remain contained within the nomination process and directly enters the electoral scene. The electoral outcome, in the final analysis, provides conclusive proof of the dominance of a specific alliance. The levels of dominance are based on the degree of inclusiveness of the electorate and the number of associated factions and alliances within an area. Over­ all dominance is maintained through the control of all arenas. Jn order to establish its dominance, an alliance must win a substantial number of seats and offices in various arenas through elections. In co-operatives the membership constitutes the electorate; in local, state, and national governments the entire adult population is involved. In this case the role played by the citizens through electoral

148 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule participation gives rise to a tempting conclusion that a ruling alliance gains its mandate from the people it serves. But the man­ date is in fact not from the electorate but from the leaders of the factions and suballiances who deliver votes in return for patronage. It is a mandate by and for the ruling class. If the uncertainty of an electoral outcome were to rest directly on the perceptions and interests of the voter, one would expect to see a much greater effort by the alliance leaders to assess the strength of such interests. Instead, their calculations rest only on the interests of the rival faction and alliance leaders. A rejected candidate may therefore doubt the assessment of outcome made by the senior party leaders. If he believes that shifts in the loyalty of the faction leaders will follow a different course, he may decide that the only way to settle the issue is to challenge the party leaders in an open electoral contest. For a rusgruntled reject, the Congress system itself provides several alternatives, of which an open contest is the most extreme. He may, as suggested earlier, accept the verdict with some un­ happiness but continue to support bis senior alliance leader. He may actually work for the success of the official nominee. This course of action is usually followed by a reject if the nominee, although a rival, belongs to the same higher alliance. His senior alliance leader expects him to support the official candidate. A reject. through his support for the nominee, displays his loyalty to the senior leader and expects future rewards. He thereby retains his proximity to power if that appears to be the best alternative. He may on the other hand remain loyal to his alliance leader without supporting the official candidate. This course is tacitly encouraged by a senior alliance leader if the nominee belongs to a rival alliance of another senior leader. Formally the nominee is accepted as an official candidate while covertly the senior alliance leader seeks his defeat. The withdrawal of support by a reject or bis leader takes one of two forms: he may remain completely neutral or he may covertly support the candidate of an opposition party. The choice in this case depends on a number of factors. He must evaluate the strength of the backlash from the rival alliance. Such a baclclash may affect the prospects of success for the senior leader if be is contesting election from a constituency of which the official no­ minee's zone of influence forms a part. He must also evaluate the likelihood of success of the opposition candidate due to his support. If a reject can be sure of such a success through his support he is most likely to give it. This action is expected to compel the higher

Democracy and Elite Interests 149 alliance leaders responsible for rejecting him to recognize his strength. Directly, it also helps to weaken the alliance of the official nominee. If the nominee appears strong enough to win in spite of the opposition, a reject is likely to remain neutral. If a reject is confident of defeating the official nominee, based on his own strength and on the new configurations resulting from the nomination process (intentions of the other rejects and their strength, for example), he may decide to challenge the official nominee in an electoral battle. This course of action is made easier if a senior alliance leader lends covert support. Important risks are involved in this strategy. A defeat may mean being cut off from an access to patronage for a length of time, especially if the rebellion is staged against the wishes of a strong senior alliance leader. How­ ever, the fruits of success are likely to be so substantial that a reject may decide to risk this possibility. The rewards of a successful rebellion against the party come in the form of a triumphant re-entry into the executive offices of the party and a reinstatement as a dominant alliance leader. This is accepted both by senior party leaders and defeated rivals. Successful rebels may remain formally outside the party until the rules are changed to accommodate them or until the required period of banishment is over. Withdrawal from the party for the purpose of the elections is an accepted informal norm within the Congress system. In order to facilitate this a reject usually challenges the nominee as an independent and not as a candidate of another party. He explains his rebellion as being not directed against the party or a senior leader but against 'a few selfish, power-hungry, disloyal persons,' who happen to be temporarily at the helm of the organiza­ tion in his own district. Claiming to abide by the policy of the party on policy issues, he blames his rejection on faulty selection and nomination procedures, on caste and kinship loyalties, or on the personal ambitions and unscrupulousness of those in charge of selec­ tion in his constituency (Interviews by author, 1968, 1974). He even argues that these undesirable elements are harmful to the interests of the party and its leadership. In keeping with these claims, a typical reject, in rebellion, does not associate openly with an op­ position party. Official nominees in turn demand disciplinary action against overt and covert rebellions. Routine proclamations of disbarment are sometimes issued by the party. Depending on the outcome of the contest they are either temporarily enforced or quickly forgotten. The calculations and manoeuvres used during the election process

150 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule 55 Zilla parishad

5

47

92

are geared towards challenging or correcting the judgrnents made by the alliance leaders about the relative strength of the con­ testants. The candidates are usually aware of the actions of their rejected rivals during the electoral campaigns (Table 55). This table reveals a new consideration, the size of the constituency. A zilla parishad constituency is small, consisting of about twenty villages and including approximately 35,000 people. A legislative consti­ tuency on the other hand often includes an entire taluka with nearly a hundred villages. A reject for the nomination to the legislature is less likely to be from the same group of villages over which the nominee's alliance has an influence. This make it easier for him to accept the nominee since his success does not pose a direct threat to the reject's alliance. Only a few members of the state legislature become ministers and thus have a substantial control over patron­ age. If the nominee is not a dominant leader his chances of inclusion in the cabinet are usually meagre. As an ordinary member he is relatively ineffective and hence not a serious threat to an established but rejected alliance leader. Even if the selected candidate is a major district leader with ministerial prospects, loyalty to him is

Democracy and Elite Interests 151 usually the best strategy for a reject. It may result in a nomination to the ::ii/a parishad, a co-operative board, or a state-appointed commission. In a majority of situations it is much more rewarding, therefore, to remain loyal to the party and support a state legislature nominee rather than to oppose him. The size of the legislative constituency demands a much more inclusive alliance and is often beyond the ability of a weak alliance leader to create unless he can count on the full support of a strong senior alliance leader such a, a cabinet minister. In a zilla parishad constituency the situation is different. The nominee is likely to be an immediate threat to a reject's domain of influence. Since electoral success leads lo increased opportunities for gaining the loyalties of new faction leaders, a reject has reason to fear an erosion of his influence. Support of the nominee is al:..o less likely to produce patronage rewards commensurate with the aspirations of a reject. Given the small size of the constituency, prospects for succe:..� in an open revolt are also much greater. As suggested earlier, most alliance leaders can count on the �upport of their own village through temporary co-optation of rival faction leaders. Securing the support of one's own village is a very significant element in all elections but is particularly important for the zilla parishad. Given the size of the constituency, a candidate from a relatively large village can influence the outcome if he is successful in receiving most of the votes from his own village. Since he is generally linked through kinship ties to the other faction leaders and has greater ongoing interaction with them, he has a good chance of co-opting the various faction leaders through pro­ mises of patronage. The aspirations of an average faction leader are usually moderate and within the range of satisfaction for a member of the zilla parishad. A High Maratha aspirant, given his patriarchal-patrimonial hegemony and his relationship with the faction leaders, has little difficulty in gaining substantial electoral support from his own village. Support for this hypothesis comes from thirty-four =ilia parishad constituencies in Satara district for which data were readily avail­ able. Over 68 per cent of the candidates were able to secure more than 80 per cent of the votes from their own villages (Table 56). Only one candidate secured less than half (41 per cent) of the votes in his own village. He was a Dhangar from a predominantly Maratha village. His case is typical of the lower-caste aspirants in Maharashtra and therefore worth mentioning at this point. He had participated in the independence movement, worked primarily

152 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

21.0

in educational, labour. and party organizations, had held no positions in co-operatives or the panchayati raj, and his activities had been primarily at the village level. He had loyally i.upported a senior alliance leader in the district throughout this period. In 1967 he applied for a seat in the legislature. He was rejected in favour of a High Maratha who had supported the same alliance leader. The Dhangar choi.e to remain loyaJ to the party and the aJliance and worked for the ,;uccess of the Congress nominee. Subsequently, he was rewarded with a nomination to the zilla parishad. It is obvious that he could not count on the support of the High Maratha faction leaders from his own village in spite of his total loyaJty to the party and to the senior alliance leader. These facts about electoral strategies and village support emphasize the integration of the various levels of politics and provide a key to the choice of democratic institutions by the Maratha elite for maintaining their hegemony. We have noted earlier that all the aspirants studied began their political career at the village level. Of those, only the High Marathas moved rapidly to the higher levels and into more lucrative arenas. Given their ability to secure factional loyalties through patriarchal, patrimonial, and personal rulership strategies, their domination of an enclosed competitive system that ensured mobility was guaranteed. The importance of the village base and hence of the patriarchaJ­ patrimonial rule by the dominant castes in democratic politics can hardly be overemphasized. On this base successively more complex alliance arrangements are built. extending upto and beyond the state level. The uniting interest which fosters consensus on procedures among the elite is that of access to patronage. The Congress system is therefore subject to influences both from above and below. Its flexibility in the enforcement of formal, organiza­ tional rules ensures its stability and also gives it an appearance of a mass party. Our analysis shows that it is a party of the dispersed hegemonic elite. Its stability is based on competitiveness, which

154 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule temporarily regain the loyalties of those alliance leaders who would have deserted her had she been defeated. Chavan, for example, remafoed within her alliance after the party split in 1969 even though it meant the clear acceptance of a subordinate status. Staying close to the sources of patronage is the optimal strategy for a weak alliance leader. Chavan had acquired and used this insight in his state politics. As later events showed he retained his domination in the state for a much longer duration than those state leaders who left the Congress Party in 1969. Through the elections held in 1971 and 1972 the Congress system recovered from its crisis and acquired relative stability, indicated by its substantial electoral gains. This did not mean, however, that Mrs Gandhi's control had become permanent and total. As the events of 1975 show, the uncertainty injected by the decision of a court against her election brought her domination and the stability of the party in doubt. This time both had to be restored through overt, coercive, and 'undemocratic' measures (Fallaci, 1975). Although Chavan remained close to the sources of patronage, his dominant status was eroded through direct interventions by Mrs Gandhi in Maharashtra politics and because of the emergence for his rivals of an alternative source of patronage. The story of the shifting fortunes of Y.B. Chavan and his management of Maha­ rashtra politics illustrate the major contours of the system of pluralist politics based on patriarchal-patrimonial and personal rulership strategies. He used the aspirations of the High Maratha elite to nurture a competitive system which ensured access to patronage to all the elite aspirants without transforming the hege­ monic control of the High Marathas and its patriarchal-patrimonial base. He also created for himself a position of supremacy which allowed him to manipulate their aspirations. Our emphasis on the emergence of personal rulerships in pluralist democracies and our use of Chavan 's politics to illustrate it may lead to a misunderstanding of the general argument. Let me there­ fore briefly recapitulate it. The concept of personal rulership, taken from Weber's analysis of legitimation, describes the manner in which a person in a position of dominance gains the loyalty of his subordinates through the promise and delivery of material rewards. It should not be confused with arbitrary or authoritarian rule or with violations of traditions, custom, or law. A personal ruler operates within the limits established by these legitimizing institutional arrangements but wherever necessary secures the loyalty of subordinate political actors by offering material rewards

Democracy and Elite Interests 155 or sanctions. Weber distinguished personal rulership from other sources of legitimation such as tradition, charisma, and bureau­ cratic rationality but did not treat any of them as mutually exclusive. The increasing use of personalized staff who remain loyal as long as leaders occupy positions of power in presumably rational political and industrial organizations is a case in point. Personal rulerships emerge and exist within institutions characterized by formal legal structures or by traditional and customary arrangements. Cbavan's activities, which we shall now review, should be looked at from this point of view. The limits to what he can accomplish and the methods he can use are set by the existence of a hegemonic class, conscious of its history of dominance and anxious to enhance it through state power. This behaviour cannot be judged as a con­ spiracy against the ruled or against the elites that he bas been managing. Chavan's success is best explained by his understanding of the limits of his own actions and aspirations and of the aspira­ tions of the class he must serve. The fact that he is a Maratha is of course significant, but that he is not himself from an elite family is also important. He uses it to illustrate the openness of and to justify bis belief in the democratic system (Interviews by author, 1970, 1975). Mrs Gandhi's behaviour in 1969 and in 1975 is amen­ able to a similar analysis. Born in 19 I 4, Chavan became associated with the Satyashodhak movement in the thirties. He soon dissociated himself from it and joined the Congress Party under Gandhi's leadership. He parti­ cipated in the 'Quit India' movement in 1942, supported the underground, engaged in acts of sabotage in his district, and was arrested and incarcerated on several occasions. During this period he came under the influence of a revisionist Marxist, M.N. Roy, whose ideas have retained some influence on Cbavan's thinking to this date. This was also the period during which he became involved in the local politics of bis district, Satara, and began to build the political associations and alliances that were to assist his rise in the state and national politics in later years. In 1946, on the eve of independence, the Congress government of Bombay under Kher offered him a place as a parliamentary secretary. With this offer his entry to the governmental sources of patronage begins. 3 Chavan's elite Maratha mentors and allies, bypassed by Kher and Morarji in forming the cabinet, advised Chavan to reject the offer of a junior portfolio in protest. Chavan debated the issue but finally accepted the offer. The Maratha elite decided to form a new party,

156 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule and they parted company with Chavan on the question. Chavan spent the next several years destroying the challenge of these men and persuading them to return to the Congress to share access to patronage. ln this effort he was joined by Hirey from Nasik who also decided to remain within the Congress Party. Chavan's politics thus became linked with Hirey's and subsequently with that of Nasik district as a whole. The two districts of Nasik and Satara present a striking contrast in many respecb. While Satara is at the centre of High Maratha heartland, Nasik has always been on the periphery. Satara city was the seat of one of the two Bhosle houses after the split following Shivaji's death. The Maratha nobility of the courts of the Bhosles was spread across the region of Western Maharashtra, which includes Poona, Kolhapur, Sangli, Sholapur, and Satara districts. In the subsequent periods Satara became a major centre for the activities of the Satyashodhak movement, supported by Shahu, the Raja of Kolhapur, and more recently it has been a major nerve centre of the Peasants and Workers Party. Maratha nobles in the past showed less interest in the region of which Nasik forms a part. Except for the maintenance of necessary fortifications for occasional sweeps into the North, the Maratha armies were unable or unwil­ ling to secure this region for their regimes. The villages under the Maratha deshmukhs and patils became interspersed with villages and districts over which Kunbis, Muslims, Kolis, and Vanjaris, men from the lower castes and tribes, had acquired revenue rights. From the perspective of sociopolitical history. caste composition, and economic development, the two districts have distinct identities (Campbell, 1883). It is also obvious. however, that they share the general structural characteristics of the state and have been subjected to similar political stimuli during the modern period. Jn both districts, for example, the major support for the Congress Party during the independence movement came from the upper castes. The Maratha gentry remained aloof from the early struggle for independence. In both districts ruralization of the Congress and consequent increase in the influence of the Maratha leaders began in the thirties. The new Maratha elite in both districts showed the same kind of resentment towards the Brahmin-Gujarati provincial leadership. In Nasik, this leadership bypassed many High Marathas; an oil mill owner and a wealthy businessman were selected for the legislature in 1952. In Satara too the young Maratha activists were ignored. Hirey from Nasik and Chavan from Satara were the exceptions. 4

Democracy and Elite Interests 157 After many of the Maratha leaders had left the party in 1947 under Jedhe's leadership, the responsibility was shared jointly by Hirey and Chavan as president and general secretary of the Maha­ rashtra Pradesh Congress Committee (MPCC). ln 1952, through extensive use of their positions in the government, Chavan and Hirey were able to blunt the PWP challenge. Soon afterwards, however, the issue of a unilingual Marathi state, dormant so far, came to life. The High Maratha elite had always supported the demands for a Marathi language state as a way to establish its hegemony in state politics. The Congress leadership from Maha­ rashtra, including Hirey and Chavan, were also in favour of its creation. But the national leaders refused to consider the demand at this stage. Although Hirey and Chavan managed to win their own seats in 1957, most of their Maratha elite allies deserted them and the Congress Party suffered many losses. 5 In Gujarat, Morarji Desai, who had opposed the idea of linguistic states, was defeated in his own constituency but was brought back to become the chief minister. Hirey and Chavan again entered the cabinet as ministers. Chavan had worked with Hirey in the party and with Morarji in the cabinet (as his parliamentary secretary) since 1946. After 1952 a serious rift between Hirey and Desai had begun to emerge. Part of the problem was the Maharashtra state issue. In spite of Chavan's claim that he managed to gain the confidence of both Hirey and Morarji, it is clear that he had begun to take sides in the conflict. Chavan continued to support the demand for a Mabarashtra state, but in his personal and political relations he cultivated Morarji, a staunch opponent of this demand and of linguistic states in general, (personal interviews with Chavan, Morarji, and other key informants, 1967). Between 1952 and 1960 Chavan's relations with Hirey deteriorated steadily. His action was in keeping with his future performance. He perceived the Morarji alliance as more organized and stronger than Hirey's diffuse support group. During this time Morarji had a close associa­ tion with Nehru. As in 1946 with Kher, Chavan again chose to maintain allegiance to the more powerful of the two alliances. His association with Morarji, which bad begun in 1946, lasted throughout the period of Morarji's ascendancy in spite of some irritations during and after the Maharashtra agitation (Desai, 1974). 6 Hirey's loyalty to the cause of the unilingual state was more direct, and be began to use the leverage of his dominant position within the party to further the cause. Chavan on the other hand,

158 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule in a speech in 1956, declared his total loyalty to the national leader­ ship of Nehru and the Congress Party and agreed lo accept lheir judgment on the issue. In terms of immediate popularity with the press and the Maratha elite in Western Maharashtra, Hirey gained immensely, while Chavan suffered a great deal. However, Chavan's loyalty to the party and his close association with the ruling alliance within the state and at the centre did not go unrewarded. When the larger bilingual state, including Gujarat, Western Maharashtra, Vidharbha, and Marathwada was formed, Cbavan, with Morarji's blessings, formed an alliance of the members of the legislature primarily from regions other than Western Maharashtra. In 1956, in an open display of his conflict and rivalry with Hirey, he contested and won the leadership of the Congress legislature party. As the first Maratha chief minister of the interim bilingual state, Chavan excluded Hirey from his cabinet. He also began to take interest in the politics of Nasik district with the intention of destroying if possible, or at least circumscribing Hirey's alliance base in order to eliminate any threat to his new status as supreme alliance leader of the state. In 1960, as a result of the strength of the agitation and Chavan's persuasion, the National Congress agreed to the creation of Maha­ rashtra state, and Chavan became its first chief minister. Once again he excluded Hirey from the cabinet. In November 1962 Chavan was asked by Nehru to replace Menon as defence minister of India. For a seat in the parliament he chose the Nasik consti­ tuency, which had become vacant. Until 1967 be represented Nasik in parliament, but then returned to Satara. His interest in Nasik politics continued in spite of Hirey's death in 1961. After 1967 be influenced it indirectly through a number of local allies. Between 1962 and 1967 Chavan's influence a� an alliance leader increased rapidly at the centre, and this supremacy was reflected in the relationship of the state-level alliance leaders to him. In spite of mutual rivalries and the desire of some to undermine him, all claimed allegiance to him and accepted his mediations and arbitration. By remaining loyal to Nehru, he gradually blunted opposition of several state-level alliance leaders and escaped the 'Kamaraj Plan' by which Nehru eliminated several competing aJliances at the centre and in the states (see Brecher, 1966). During the first succession after Nehru he sided with the stronger 'syndicate' supporting Shastri and angered his long-time mentor, Morarji. Once again, in 1966 he rejected Morarji's overtures and supported Mrs Gandhi for the prime ministership. When the

Democracy and Elite Interests 159 uncertainties preceding the elections in 1967 suggested that he might lose his dominance as a result of a compromise between Morarji and Mrs Gandhi, he became her early supporter, ensuring his supremacy in the state and making it impossible for her to put bis position at stake during the bargaining (interviews with Chavan, Morarji, Nijalingappa, and several other leaders, 1968). The strategy of remaining close to the dominant alliance was basic to Chavan's rise at the centre and his continued hegemony in the state. When serious uncertainties threatened the stability of the Congress system after the 1967 elections, overtures were made lo Chavan by senior alliance leaders, including Morarji, suggesting that he might have better prospects of supremacy in the party if he were to join a revolt against the prime minister. Not unaware of such possibilities, Mrs Gandhi had begun to treat Chavan's allegiance with suspicion and caution (interviews with Chavan, Morarji, Masani, and several key informants, 1970). Finally, in 1969 Chavan joined the rebellion in recommending Sanjiva Reddi for the national presidency. Mrs Gandhi outwitted her rivals, and the decline of Chavan's influence at the centre and in the state began. After she won a substantial majority in parliament Mrs Gandhi's alliance tried systematically to undermine Chavan's influence in Maha­ rashtra. Chavan's dominance was openly challenged by the alliance led by Shankarao against the chief minister, Naik, a Chavan ally. Chavan temporarily succeeeded in averting the conflict, but by 1975 Mrs Gandhi's concern over a new rebellion grew to a point where she unceremoniously dismissed Naik and appointed Shankarao after only a token consultation with Chavan (Chavan interview, 1975). Subsequently, when the high court ruled against her election she invoked emergency powers to forestall the rebellion of her rival allies. We cannot dwell in detail on the various strategies adopted by Chavan, Mrs Gandhi, and the other national alliance leaders in their exercise of competitive politics of personal rulerships. Most of these strategies had repercussions on the alliance politics in the two districts that we propose to examine next. It should be clear from this brief review that the pattern of strategic behaviour of the elite at the centre bears a close resemblance to that described for the state. The integration of the various levels of politics is also reflected in these strategies, especially in the efforts by Mrs Gandhi to undermine Chavan's dominance in his own district. By the same token, the decline of Chavan's dominance at the centre

160 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule affected the alliance politics in the state and the districts, including his home district of Satara. SATARA DISTRICT

Satara is directly linked with Chavan's personal rise as the supreme alliance leader of Maharashtra. During his formative years it was a hotbed of the Satyashodhak movement. During the struggle for independence it produced a unique underground challenge to British authority in the form of a 'Prati-Sarkar' or a countergovern­ ment. Chavan was influenced by the former and actively participated in or supported the latter. During the period in which Prati Sarkar was building up resources through raids and robberies and threate­ ning the British regime through other 'non-legitimate' means. rivaJry between alliances had already begun to develop. The two major alliances within the movement were led by Kisan Veer and Nana Patil. Both of them had shown unusual courage and skiJI in defying the coercive power of the British regime, and their popular­ ity had acquired legendary proportions in the district. Chavan remained closely linked with Veer's alliance, while Nana Patil, a Maratha patil, and his several Maratha colleagues joined the Peasants and Workers Party. Veer, a Shimpi, chose to remain with the ruling Congress Party. While the socioeconomic conditions of the region of which Satara forms a part and the movements and events of the early years of his career are important in the formation of Chavan's own political style, its fullest manifestation came only after the state of Maha­ rashtra was created with Chavan as its chief minister in May 1960. The first two years were spent mainly in consolidating the gains and in persuading the elite Marathas who had left the Congress Party to return to its fold. In the general elections that followed in 1962 we get the first glimpse of the alliance politics that Chavan helped to stabilize in Satara and in the rest of Maharashtra. Let us begin with a simple example. The politics of Khatav, one of the talukas in Satara district, was dominated by two cousins from a rich, elite Maratha family of patils. Both had been involved in the later years of the independence movement and joined the Socialist Party after independence. Keshav, the older of the two, was elected to the state legislature in 1957. Chander, the younger cousin, who had supported Keshav earlier, was persuaded by Cha van to leave him and join the Congress Party soon after Keshav's election. According to Chander the politics of the opposition had

Democracy and Elite Interests 161 not helped the region over which the two patils had maintained political control. Chander's personal am bition was to advance rapidly as a leader in his own right, and Chavan assured him support. Chander joined the Congress Party and in 1959 became the secretary of the occ. In 1962, with the help of Chander and his growing suballiance, a Congress candidate defeated Keshav in the legislative elections. Chander was rewarded with a seat on the =ilia parishad and was made chairman of the panchayat samiti. However, the two alliances retained nearly equal strength, and Keshav was able to frustrate Chander's efforts to consolidate his position within the patronage politics of Khatav panchayat samiti. 7 The rivalry between the two alliance leaders was still in the idiom of interparty conflict. Although Keshav had retained enough support to bar Chander from gaining total control, he himself could not participate in the system of patronage. He had thus begun to lose, gradually, his faction-alliance support, as shown by his loss at the legislative elections. For Chavan also the existence of a matching rival within the Congress system was necessary for the use of the personal rulership strategy. As a result, Keshav was, persuaded by Chavan to join the Congress in 1964 and promised a place in the zil/a parishad. 8 In 1967 both Keshav and Chander sought the nomination to the state legislature. Chavan picked Chander for the legislature, while as promised, Keshav was to be given a seat on the zilla parishad. Keshav, who had been the senior alliance leader of the taluka, assumed that the promise of the zilla parishad seat implied a bigger promise of dominance in the panchaya t samiti and a major executive position in the =ilia parishad. When the nominations were actually made by the occ, Chander, exercising his already established al­ liance with Jagtap,9 built during his first term as member of the legislature, managed to have five of the seven zilla parishad seats in Khatav allocated to his own allies. As promised by Chavan, Keshav was given a seat, but with only one of his allies. Had Con­ gress won all the seats it would have ensured Chander's dominance in the panchayat samiti. Angered by Chavan's unwillingness to intervene on his behalf, Keshav set up his own allies as independent candidates against Chander's. Chander retaliated. In the elections that followed, Chander's alliance won only one seat more than Keshav's on the panchayat samiti. A Jagtap ally (Bagal) who had first helped Keshav against Chander in 1962 and had subsequently left Keshav in 1967 to join Chander, was made chairman of the panchayat samiti. In

I 62 Elite Plurali::.m and Class Rule 1972 once again both Chander and Keshav applied for a seal on the legislature, and Chander was picked because of Jagtap. This time Keshav decided to stage an open rebellion and was helped in this effort by Veer's alliance. He also joined hands with the ex­ ruler of the state of Aundh who had opposed him in 1967 and whom Keshav described as 'an immoral man who distributed liquor, cash and free meals to voters' (interviews by author, I 968). Keshav defeated Chander for the seat in the legislature, and his alliance gained control of the panchayar samiti. These shifts in loyalties are not unique to Khatav. They become even more significant in the context of the politics of the other talukas and of the district as a whole. Jagtap, for example. who belongs to Karad and not Khatav raluka, first entered politics in Satara raluka as a rival of Ghorpade, Veer's ally. This rivalry with Ghorpade, and therefore with Veer, was partly responsible for his alliance with Keshav first and Chander later. Among those who have successfully established alliances which cover several talukas we must count Veer, the mosl senior colleague and mentor of Chavan. Balasaheb, whose structure of aJliances at one time included several districts. Mobile, the minister of co-operation who joined the Congress Party al Cha van's persuasion in 1962, and Jagtap. Each one of them has a raluka as a base of operation in which at some time his alliance has held a position of dominance. By the same token, each of them faces a rival alliance in his raluka. The story ofSatara politics is thus a story of continuous shifts and readjustments in the loyalties of the alliance leaders. Khatav is only one piece in this complex puzzle. AJI these alliance leaders except Veer had been ministers in the state cabinet for a fair length of time. Balasaheb had been picked by Veer and Chavan as an attractive candidate in their effort to seize control of the district local board in the forties. 1 ° For a long time Chavan used Balasaheb's support in maintaining his control over the district. But when Chavan was called to the centre in 1961. instead of of­ fering the chief ministership of the state to Balasaheb, he gave il to a senior lower-caste politician from Vidharbha. Chavan's move was understandable as an effort to keep o pen the possibility of returning lo lhe state if things did not work out in Delhi. 11 Had he given lhe job to Balasaheb, a High Maratha, Chavan would have had difficulty maintaining his dominance over the various alliances. Balasaheb had al that lime a nearly total control over Palan raluka and some support in parts of Karad and Man. Cha van was afraid of Balasaheb's emergence as the supreme stale alliance leader.

Democracy and Elite Interests 163 It would have threatened his support base in Satara district and particularly in his own taluka, Karad. In 1964 when his first choice died, Chavan picked Naik, another low-caste leader from Vidharbha, to succeed him. To avoid the possibility of an open rebellion, Balasaheb was made the deputy leader of the legislature party as well as home minister. Since both the preceding chief ministers bad been appointed prior to the general elections they were considered temporary by Balasaheb, and he expected the job to be given to him in 1967. However, two succession struggles for the prime ministership intervened during which Naik had proved to be a very useful ally for Chavan in his strategies. Hence, it seemed that Naik could expect to continue to stay in his office even after the 1967 elections. Just before the elections, therefore, Balasaheb began to make moves to claim the job through a display of the strength of his own alliance network. Several ministers from Vidharbha, Naik's rivals, joined Balasaheb in a secret alliance. Chavan became aware of its existence before the nominations for the legislature had been finalized. His first move was to deny nominations to as many Balasaheb supporters as possible and to increase the number of Naik supporters from Vidharbha. This of course did not mean that Chavan could drop alliance leaders with established strength without a threat of rebellion. 12 However, he made sure that Bala­ saheb did not have a majority in the Congress legislature party. During the campaign Balasaheb secured the support of major alliance leaders from Satara. He got Jagtap's support because Jagtap had opposed Naik's alliance and was likely to be dropped from the cabinet. He also wanted to undercut Veer's alliance through Balasaheb's support. 13 Mohite, who was then a deputy minister in Naik's cabinet, also joined Balasaheb, 14 explaining this to Chavan by pointing out that there were some twenty villages in his legislative constituency where Balasaheb controlled most of the strong factions. Perhaps there were other, more compelling reasons. Mohite's constituency also included areas over which another alliance leader, Bapu from Sangli district, had control. Bapu was also a deputy minister in Naik's cabinet. Because of the rivalry between Dada and Naik at the state level, Bapu, a rival of Dada in Sangli district, was an ally of Naik. It seemed likely that if Naik were to continue as the chief minister, Bapu would be promoted but not Mohite. During all this period Chavan's own position at the centre was the strongest of his entire career in Delhi. 1 s No effort at a major

164 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule alliance realignment could succeed without his consent. Balasaheb's efforts to defeat the Naik alliance were therefore covert. He hoped to persuade Chavan of his strength as well as loyalty by gaining the support of his kin, such as Jagtap. He also helped many rebel candidates against Naik's allies. Once it became clear that Bala­ saheb did not have a clear majority in the caucus, Chavan moved quickly to further clip his wings. Naik had many of his allies in the cabinet declare to Chavan that they would be unable to work with Balasaheb even as a deputy leader. The important Home Ministry was taken from him and returned to Naik and a second deputy leader appointed. Shankarao, a senior minister from Marathwada (he emerged as a rival for Naik in 1972 and succeeded him in 1975), was given the post. In a symbolic display of party unity, Balasaheb, as befitted a defeated rival, proposed Naik's name for leadership, and the election was made unanimous. Chavan presided over the meeting and made a plea for unity within the party and the cabinet. While Balasaheb was thus reduced to a secondary position at the state level, Chavan recognized his nuisance value within the district and also the necessity of retaining his loyalty. He was placed in charge of all the nominations for Lhe =ilia parishad elections. Chavan appeared with Balasaheb at several public meetings and made speeches aimed at dispelling the belief among the allies of a serious rift between the two. Yet Balasaheb remained disgruntled with his secondary position. When Chavan came into difficulty at the centre in 1969 Balasaheb was one of the alliance leaders courted by the allies of the prime minister to lead a revolt against Chavan within his own district. Balasaheb reported these moves to Chavan and promised loyalty with the hope that he would be reinstated in his previous dominant position. When this seemed unlikely he made some tentative moves against Chavan. In 1971, in a stormy party meeting in Bombay, many Chavan allies attacked Balasaheb for making anti-Chavan speeches and for using vile language. Chavan's speech which fol­ lowed appeared to support these attackers. According to several persons who attended that secret meeting the message was quite clear. Afraid of a removal from the cabinet Balasaheb offered his resignation, perhaps in the hope that Chavan would try to stop him as in the past. Instead, Cbavan advised him to take it to the chief minister, who promptly accepted it. The biggest voice raised against Balasaheb was that of Veer (interviews by author, 1972). Another alliance leader to receive overtures from the prime minister was Mohite. A High Maratha like Balasaheb with claims

Democracy and Elite Interests 165 to nobility, Mohite was active in the Peasants and Workers Party in the southern part of Karad. From there he was elected to the state legislature as an opposition candidate in 1952 and in 1957. His colleague in these campaigns was another High Maratha, Anandrao, who was elected to parliament. 16 In order to reduce external opposition to his own alliance in the taluka, Chavan persuaded both Mohite and Anandrao to join the Congress Party after the creation of Maharashtra state. According to Chavan, they had resisted his overtures for ten years because they considered themselves to be aristocrats. Eventually they recognized the futility of remaining outside the Congress system. In 1962, soon after Mohite joined the Congress Party, he was made a deputy minister. He became briefly allied with Balasaheb during the 1967 elections but abandoned him immediately afterwards. Between 1967 and 1972 his relationship with Chavan, which was at best only cordial before, rapidly improved to a point where Mohite rather bluntly repelled the prime minister's overtures in 1971 and reported these to Chavan (anonymous informant and Chavan interviews, 1974). Within thedistrict Mohite's aspirations were for a total hegemony, in loyalty to Chavan as far as possible but with a view to an eventual rise to the chief ministership. In this desire he had come into a continuous conflict with Veer, whose three decades of alliance with Chavan had made him the most powerful alliance leader. Veer's low caste made it very difficult for all the High Marathas, including Mohite. to accept him as a senior alliance leader. When Veer and his allies saw Chavan's growing dependence on Mohite they be­ came concerned about an eventual confrontation and about Chavan's role in it. Chavan simultaneously, because of growing uncertainty about his dominance at the centre, became aware of the possibility that many of his former allies might drift away from him and join the rival alliances in the district and the state. His new dependence on Mohite was based on this awareness of the emerging adverse shifts at the state level which he had temporarily overcome in 1972. While he may not have intended to affect the alliance relations within the district, this is not how the various alliance leaders in Satara perceived it. In a characteristic move several of them came together, in 1972, to try to defeat Mohite in his legislative constituency. The group included Balasaheb, who had been forced to resign by Veer earlier but whose hopes for a return to dominance had been revived after Chavan's decline at the centre. They re­ ceived support from Veer's alliance. Mohite, who had never been defeated from this constituency, became sufficiently concerned to

166 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule appeal to Chavan for help. In an uncharacteristically strong speech Chavan called those seeking Mohite's defeat, ·rats infected with plague genns' and asked for their political extermination (Sakal, 4 March 1972). In Chavan's relationships with Balasaheb and Mohite we have seen the use of personal rulership strategies by the various alliance leaders, including Chavan, in their effort to remain in control of public resources. Chavan's entire strategy in Satara was predicated on maintaining relatively stable and equal rival alliances which could be so manipulated that by increasing or decreasing rewards their loyalty to him could be permanently secured. In his treatment of Balasaheb, Veer, and Mohite he followed this balancing strategy at the district level until the legislative elections in 1972. The success of this strategy depended, as Chavan was quite aware, on his own position within the state and national alliance structure. Aware of the uncertainties and dangers associated with the exercise of personal rulership, Chavan appears to have followed another subsidiary strategy. He sought to depend on the traditional sources of patriarchalism by introducing a number of his kin into the politics of the district. Chavan used his kin to create rival alliances in places where a single alliance leader was likely to become relatively autonomous. The first kin to be so introducted was Jagtap, who was married to Chavan's wife's sister. In Satara tafuka, Ghorpade, a High Maratha with claims of kinship ties lo Shivaji's family. had been an ally of Veer from the forties. 17 He had no serious rivals in the tafuka and was easily elected to the legislature in 1952 but lost his seal lo an opposition candidate in 1957 because of the Samyukta Maharashtra movement. In 1962 Chavan gave lhe legislature nomination to Jagtap instead of Ghorpade, the latter being given the post of vice-president of the :ilia parishad. Between 1962 and 1967 Jagtap intervened in panchayat samiti politics through a subordinate alliance leader, making him chair­ man. An ally of Ghorpade was defeated, and the strategies of blockading access to resources similar to those in Khatav were followed by both alliances. In 1967 Jagtap retained his seat in the legislature. Ghorpade's bid for both the legislature and the ziffa parishad was denied. lie was, however, made the president of the occ. In spite of his support of Balasaheb's bid for chiefministership, Jagtap was promoted from deputy ministership to a minister of state. After the elections in 1972, however, Jagtap, whose loyalties to Naik had been suspect during the pre-election manoeuvres,

Democracy and Elite Interests 167 was dropped. By supporting Naik in this move, Chavan also hoped to reduce the growing complaints and restore the flagging loyalty of the Veer alliance. The second of Chavan's kin to enter politics was Kale, a brother's son-in-law. Chavan introduced him into Patan taluka where Balasaheb's domination was total. As a check on Balasaheb, whose manoeuvres in the legislative elections had come to Chavan's notice, Kale entered Patan politics as a zilla parishad candidate in 1967. BaJasaheb, as noted earlier, had been put in charge of the nominations for the entire district. By encouraging, or at least by not discouraging, Kale's seeking a seat from Patan, Chavan was putting Balasaheb on trial. As a result, Kale was not only given a seat on the zilla parishad but was made a chairman of one of the committees. 18 By 1972 he had succeeded in establishing a reasonably powerful alliance base within Patan taluka. The third entrant was Kotwal, a sister's son, who, like Kale, left his government service in late 1971 to seek the nomination for legislature from the Karad seat formerly occupied by Patil, whose alliance politics was discussed in chapter 2. In Karad taluka, Chavan had always had a rather formidable local rival in Kiwal who had supported Balasaheb during most of his earlier political career. Chavan expected a challenge to his dominance from the prime minister's allies through Kiwal. Partly in order to forestall this move and also to ensure continuing support for himself in the taluka, Chavan bypassed many established allies, including Patil, to nominate Kotwal. KotwaJ won the election only with the support of Mohite's alliance. Kiwal openly declared himself an 'Indira supporter' in opposition to Chavan, but the prime minister refused to intervene directly. His manoeuvres against Kotwal had received covert support from the Veer-BaJasaheb alliance. Kiwal's open revolt against a dominant senior alliance leader was premature and uncharacteristic of the personal rulership strategy. His later dif­ ficulties resulted from the violation of the basic norms of compromise politics. Tukaram was another Chavan kin active in Koregaon taluka. After many years in Bombay before returning to local politics, he applied for a seat on the legislature in 1967 but was rejected in favour of an older and more established local ally of Veer. Tukaram then entered co-operatives, becoming vice-chairman of a new sugar mill. For the entire period under review there have been several minor alliance leaders in Koregoan but no dominant leader. Veer's control of the taluka was strong at this point. Tukaram's entry into

168 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule Koregaon politics thus follows the pattern set by Jagtap in Satara taluka. However, Tukaram, moving gradually and cautiously, managed to secure a position without coming into conflict with any of the allies of Veer. An owner of a substantial amount of irrigated land, be at first restricted his activities to the fields of education and co-operation. In 1972, he was given a seat on the zi/la parishad. 1 9

One other Chavan kin who has not been so successful is bis wife's brother, More, who had desired the Phaltan legislature seat since 1962. It was held by the former ruler of Phaltan state, Nimbalkar, who had supported Chavan during the difficult days of the Samyukta Maharashtra movement. Because of his inde­ pendent, traditional support base he could not be easily replaced in his taluka, and in 1967 he expressed a desire to give his seat to his son. Chavan, whose dominance in the state and at the centre was then at its peak, decided to risk his support to a rival alliance. When the decision had to be made on the replacement, Chavan came under intense pressure from his wife to give the nomination to More (interview by author, 1967). The leader of the rival alliance was opposed to this and suggested the name of Bhoite, who had been Nimbalkar's protege before he was nominated. The NimbaJ­ kars spoke with affection about him even after the elections in which Nimbalkar's son had opposed him (interview by author, 1968). More temporarily joined Nimbalkar's alliance and tried unsuccessfully to defeat Bhoite. Unlike Nimbalkar he remained in the Congress Party. 20 He had been active and successful in co-operative and municipal politics, but both in 1967 and 1972 his desire for a legislative seal was thwarted because of Bhoite. During Bhoite's ascendance in Phaltan politics he came in conflict with a rivaJ alliance led by Kadam. The two alliances kept joining and opposing Nimbalkar's alliance between 1967 and 1975, when More once again became a pawn in the politics of Phaltan. At this time Chavan exerted immense direct pressure on Kadam not to oppose More's candidacy for the post of mayor of Phaltan. He used promises as well as threats, said Kadam (interview by author, 1975). More had been persuaded to run by Bhoite. Kadam's refusal to comply indicated the near-equal strength of the rival alliances and symbolized Chavan's declining dominance in the district. Kadam's candidate was Bhosle, a long-time opponent of Nimbalkar and hence a Bhoite supporter in 1967. More on the other hand had opposed Bhoite in 1967. In spite of the support from Bhoite and Chavan himself, More lost the election, but only

Democracy and Elite Interests 169 by a small margin. By 1975 even Chavan's direct intervention and the designation of More as the official Congress candidate had Jost their decisive influence on the rival alliance. Until 1972 Chavan had only slowly and cautiously allowed some of his kin to enter and establish themselves in district politics. He had generally used them to establish a system of stable and compet­ ing rival alliances within several talukas. While Chavan denies being motivated by a desire to create counteralliances in areas where a single suballiance leader has shown tendencies to become very powerful, the net effect of his actions appears to have been just that and is definitely perceived as such by most politicians, especially those whose careers have been directly affected. Chavan claims to have been pressured into acceding to the desire of his kin to strike out on their own in politics. In all these cases, according to Chavan, there was adequate political background, experience, and intelligence to match candidates already in the field. He claims to have specifically warned his kin not to expect special favours from him. On the other hand the facts are that two of his kin were given positions of substantial patronage immediately after entering electoral politics. By 1972 Mohite had proven to Chavan his loyalty in times of adversity. He did not fear a direct intervention by Chavan if he chose to challenge the Veer alliance openly. He also saw that all of Chavan's kin were feeling thwarted by Veer's alliance. 21 Until 1972 Veer's dominance in the district politics had steadily grown through Chavan's support and his own astute alliance manage­ ment. In 1966 Veer had become the chairman of the District Central Co-operative Bank (DCCB), which controlled the financing of major rural enterprises. In addition to his influence in governmental politics, Veer now controlled one of the most important sources of patronage. In 1970 Mohite became openly critical of the leader­ ship of the Bank and attacked Veer as a 'white elephant' strangling the interests of the peasantry. 22 In the zilla parishad elections of 1972, Mohite saw an opportunity and a necessity for a decisive challenge to Veer's alliance. In this he could now count on the support of Chavan's kin. This conflict came to centre on the post of the zil/a parishad president, for which Ghorpade was the Veer alliance candidate. Ghorpade had wanted to return to the legislature in 1972, at a time when Veer's alliance bad the control of the DCC of which Ghorpade himself was the president. His alliance openly opposed Jagtap's nomination from Satara, and the ta/uka Congress even

170 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule passed a resolution saying that Jagtap should not receive the nomination because he was an outsider. Chavan had then intervened on behalf of Jaglap, asked Ghorpade not to press the matter, and offered to make him president of the zilla parishad (Sakal, 22 July 1972, 8 February 1972). In spite of a public declaration of support by Ghorpade, Jagtap complained that covert efforts had been made to defeat him. 23 In the subsequent zilla parishad elections the usual strategies associated with nominations and elections were followed by most alliance leaders. Pressures were exerted on the DEC in view of the forthcoming confrontation between Veer's alliance and Mohite's compact with Chavan's kin. On the completion of the nomination process in which many compromises were worked out, many rejects from both alliances contested as rebels and subsequently returned to the Congress Party in the zilla parishad (Sakal. 1 August 1972). Of the fifty-seven elected Congress members, fifteen had left the party to contest successfully as rebels. The activities of alliance leaders during this period followed all the patterns described earlier. Between the zilla parishad elections and the election of the president and the vice-president, there was a period of two months during which efforts to assess the strength of the two alliances were made by each of them and by Chavan. During this period a number of important secondary leaders had an opportunity to negotiate with the major alliance leaders. They abandoned older alliances and chose new ones on the basis of their assessments of the potential for patronage and the strategies of their rivals. For example, in Khatav, since Chander had become closely associated with Jagtap, Keshav declared himself in support of the Veer alliance. Thus ended his temporary alliance with the Aundh ruler who returned to his earlier alignment with Chander. Kiwal joined Mohite and Chavan's kin at this stage because of a promise of a chairmanship. 24 Vasant, Dada's kin from Koregaon who had been defeated by a Veer rebel, also joined with Mohite. All these taluka alliance leaders were primarily concerned about their own prospects for patronage positions on the zilla parishad. The same was true of Bhilare, who led the dominant alliance in Mahabaleshwar, and Mane, the leader of the dominant alliance in Man. In spite of his earlier promise to Ghorpade, Chavan could now see that an effective challenge to Veer's domination had emerged as a result of the compact in which his kin had joined hands with Mohite. Since a supreme alliance leader thrives on his ability to balance relatively equal suballiances and since Chavan's strategy

Democracy and Elite Interests 171 of personal rulership had been to retain loyalties of all rivalling suballiances wherever possible, be could not have looked upon this situation with disfavour. The two alliances were now poised for a battle, with Chavan trying to mediate. Both claimed total allegiance to Chavan as the supreme leader but neither was willing to concede dominant status to the other. The one small complication in this confrontation was Cbavan's promise of the presidency to Ghorpade. A compromise formula was therefore worked out according to which Gborpade from the Veer alliance and Kale from the Mohite alliance were to become president and vice­ president. The Veer alliance had accepted this compromise. But for many of Mohite's new allies this meant disappointment, and they wanted to keep things fluid. At the last minute Mohite's alliance saw the compromise as a concession to Veer. The former also felt they could win a decisive victory over the Veer alliance through the support of some of the wavering alliance leaders, so that it was in their interest to break the compromise if possible. Cleverly, and without appearing to defy Chavan's authority, they suddenly withdrew Kale's name from the vice-presidential candi­ dacy and substituted Buwa's (key informant interviews, 1974). The acceptance of Buwa's name would have meant symbolic defeat for the Veer alliance. During the campaign preceding the elections Buwa's claims had rested on the need to challenge Veer's excessive dominance. Once a protege of Veer, Buwa was from Veer's own raluka, Wai. His election to the vice-presidency would strengthen his already robust counteralliance within Veer's raluka. Aware of this implication the Mohite alliance pressed hard for this com­ promise, but, as they expected, the negotiations broke down. An open contest was held. The two alliances were evenly matched, each candidate receiving twenty-nine votes. When lots were drawn, Bbagwat 25 of the Mohite alliance was declared elected president and Buwa vice-president. Chavan's promise to Ghorpade remained unredeemed. Veer's allies called this a rebellion against Chavan by his kin and Mohite. With cleverly manipulated reporting in the major news­ papers (key informant interviews, 1974), they caused a great deal of embarrassment for Chavan whose own problems at the centre bad multiplied. Chavan was now forced to propose a new com­ promise formula just prior to the elections for the chairmanships. He recommended that three members of the Mohite group, Kale, Mane, and Bhingardive, should be elected chairmen of the commit­ tees but the president and the vice-president would subsequently

172 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule resign and a new compromise with Ghorpade as president be worked out. This of course meant that both Bhilare and Kiwal who had joined the Mohite alliance only to gain chairmanships were to be sidestepped. The Veer alliance, taking advantage of this situation, invited them to shift and offered them the chairman­ ships. Kiwal and Bhilare, who had once been major leaders of the anti-Veer alliances in their ralukas, now joined his slate for chairmanships along with Shinde. 26 With their switch the success of Veer's alliance against Mohite's was now assured. At this stage, Kadam, who had opposed the Veer alliance, was also approached by his father-in-law, Vilas, who had recently joined Veer's alliance. Vilas was now the president of the DCC. He persuaded Kadam to switch. Kadam hoped to be able to challenge Bhoite for the forth­ coming legislative elections by giving crucial support to Veer's emerging dominant alliance which had supported Bhoite in the past. i, Chavan had up to this point made no decisive moves to change the balance of forces. Only when it became clear that the balance was shifting once again in favour of the Veer alliance did he intervene to give it a small but necessary push. Thus he sought to re-establish his bona fides with Veer, Ghorpade, and their allies. His intentions about the desired outcome of the first presidential election had been purposely left vague. The credibility of his claim that he had always directed the suballiance leaders to support Ghorpade had come in serious doubt. However, neither of the rival alliances could afford to stage a total break from Chavan, nor could Chavan afford (or desire) to intervene to ensure the dominance of one of the two alliances. His earlier compromise formulas had been openly flouted first by Mohite and later by Veer. The nearly matched status of the two alliances had made all compromises unacceptable. Once the Mohite alliance was defeated in the chairmanship elections, Chavan found it possible to redeem his promise to Ghorpade. He asked his kin and Mohite to lend their support to a motion of no confidence against Bhagwat and Buwa. The motion was passed, only the direct allies of Bhagwat and Buwa voting against it. Some Jagtap and Mohite supporters stayed away, while Kiwal, who had openly defied Chavan earlier, remained neutral. Ghorpade was finally elected president; for vice-president Veer picked Shankar from Koregaon. 28 This truce between the Mohite alliance and the Veer alliance was forced and temporary. A few months later a motion of no confidence was introduced against the three chairmen belonging to the Veer

Democracy and Elite Interests 173 alliance, and the earlier alliance pattern reappeared. Having fulfilled Chavan's promise to Ghorpade, the allies of Mohite, including Chavan's kin, were free to challenge the Veer alliance and wanted to claim their share of the :ii/a parishad patronage. However, the expected shifts in their favour did not materialize. The only victim of this move was Kiwal. Realizing that neither of the two alliances wanted to support him, he resigned before the meeting was held. The success of his strategy of independence and challenge to Chavan had been very short-lived. In his place Jagannath (an ally of Vilas). who had successfully challenged Kiwal's alJiance in Karad Panchayat Samiti. was elected. The elections to the offices in the party organization had preceded Ghorpade's final election as president. In them the Veer alliance had won the control of the occ, and Vilas had become its president. The elections to the various co-operative institutions followed Ghorpade's victory. The new realignments were also reflected in those elections. Veer retained nearly total control of the bank (with thirteen out of seventeen seats on the board of directors). In Patan, Shivaji (Balasaheb's son) won against Bhagwat. In Karad Panchayat Samiti, the Vilas alliance won decisively. In Mohite's own sugar mill the conflict was between two rival suballiances, both loyal to him. Towards the end of 1974 there was an appearance of stability, with the dominance of the Veer alliance temporarily re-established. While Cha van remained publicly aloof from both rival alliances and hence was given overt allegiance by both, there was a great deal of resentment among Veer allies against his strategic moves in support of his kin. Publicly, only the kin (and not Chavan) were made the targets of their attack. Before 1969 Chavan's support for his kin was cautious and gradual. Coming during the period of his total dominance of state politics, it had been noted by others, but no overt reaction against it had materialized. During this period Chavan's use of patriarchal loyalties was subsidiary and for the purpose of maintaining the competitive system of alliances. In 1972 both Chavan and his non-kin ames appear to have exceeded the self-imposed boundaries associated with this strategy. Up to that point he could claim that his kin put pressure on the aJliance leaders which they found difficult to resist and in order to please him they accepted the pleas of the kin even without his own direct intervention. The end result had been that the rival alliances. came to depend on him for access to patronage. Even when they sought to undercut each other's influence they swore allegiance to him.

174 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

In being responsive to the fluidity of loyalties and in ensuring that alternative support !)tructures are always available, alliance leaders like Chavan respond to the pressure of the aspirations of the elite but at the same time mould the relations between them to ensure competition within an enclosed system of power. This arrangement obviously depended on Chavan's ability to control the sources of patronage at the apex. It came under increas­ ing doubt after his attempt in 1969 to challenge Mrs Gandhi as the senior alliance leader failed. Her candidate for India's presidency defeated the candidate supported by Chavan and the other national congress leaders (for details see Rahman. 1970: Chatterjee, 1971). Chavan's decision to remain within the Gandhi alliance was in keeping with his previous performances based on his analysis that it i!) essential to have direct access to governmental arenas of patron­ age for retaining the structure of political loyalties. Until after her decisive victory in the parliamentary elections of 1971, Mrs Gandhi's dominance at the national level was in doubt. Chavan had hoped to be in a strong bargaining position with her after the elections (interview by author, I 970). Once her dominance was established, it became apparent to Chavan that he could not take the loyalty of his state level allies for granted. She had now increased her efforts to directly assert her own dominance (interview by author, 1974). With Chavan's decline at the apex and with the opening of alternative channels of patronage for the rival alliances, Chavan's control of the established system declined. both at the state level and in his own district. If Chavan had continued to lose his grip on the politics of the district it would have had repercussions on his position at the centre. Chavan's overt support for an alliance of his kin with Mohite, beginning with the general elections of 1972, acquires a new mean­ ing in this context. Personal rulerships are generally stable only under guaranteed access to patronage. Since Chavan cannot be sure of his continued presence in central politics, he must search for other sources of loyalty before it is too late. The patriarchal strategy, which was only a substitute before, may now become a primary source of loyalty. It would be an exaggeration to say that kinship loyalties have no 'value in themselves' for the ruling elite. If so they would not be put to a strategic use in the public realm. The point being made here is that they are imported into the public domain as and when considerations of rulership so require. For example, Balasaheb promoted his cousin, Bhagwat, between 1962 and 1972 in Patan.

Democracy and Elite Interests 175 Because of Balasabeb he became the president of the zilla parishad. By 1972 Balasaheb's son had become chairman of the co-operative sugar mill and was developing his own ambition for a place in zilla parishad politics. Balasaheb then abandoned bis cousin to support his son. 29 Often, when leaders of rival alliances are ready to collaborate against an external threat or when they try to work out compromises, the mediators are those who have some kinship ties with the rivals. 30 Since kinship obligations are still rooted in the ethos of reciprocally meaningful tradition, they can become strategic sources of loyalty in situations of great uncertainty. When compromises between two rival alliances are to be worked out, for example, the likely source of trust in an environment of competition and distrust is found only in kinship loyalties. However, to the extent that they are used to service the aspirations of the members of the ruling class, patriarcbalism and tradition are essentially sources of strategic manipulation of patronage. They do not always work and often become less salient than direct promises of material rewards. To equate patriarchal strategy with the 'traditionalism' of the rural elite is an oversimplification, and its validity is brought in serious doubt by the evidence presented here. This is not the place to discuss in detail the events which led Mrs Gandhi to invoke the emergency powers in 1975. It seems the adverse decision of the Allahabad High Court introduced an element of uncertainty into her alliance structure and brought forth the ever-present, underlying challenge by her rivals within her own party. Events beginning with Jayaprakash Narayan's exhortation to Chavan and Ram to overthrow the prime minister strongly support this conclusion. The fear of a loss of support from these allies in adversity and her open espousal of and dependence on her son during the subsequent period imply the subsidiary impor­ tance of patriarchal loyalties in the politics of personal rulership (Holden, 1975; Wood, 1975). As far as politics in Satara district are concerned, the strategic manoeuvres of the rival alliances continued even after Naik had been unceremoniously dismissed as the chief minister. He was replaced with Shankarao, whose appointment Chavan had pre­ viously opposed. Chavan's allies from Poona (Sharad), Satara (Mohite), and Sangli (Dada) had joined hands with Shankarao, at least temporarily, with the blessings of the prime minister's alliance (Chavan interview by author, 1974). While Chavan remain­ ed within the prime minister's alliance, none of the state leaders,

176 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule including Shankarao. offered an open challenge to his position within the state. The two rival alliances within the district continued to support Chavan but now approached Shankarao with requests for intervention in order to restore the situation of their decisive dominance (Sakal, 30 August 1975 and 12 Sept. 1975). The abroga­ tion of the constitutional rights of the citizens was obviously not intended to affect the competitive, democratic politics of the rural elite. It was a manoeuvre to strengthen the dominance of the alliance headed by the prime minister in view of the growing challenge to it from within and outside her party. Chavan's dominance within the district and in state and national politics had suffered a temporary decline. Whether it would cause his total eclipse or a new reassertion would have depended on the shifts in the fortunes of the dominant alliance of the prime minister. Since the emergency measures were invoked primarily to protect the stability of the dominant alliance system they had little impact on the structure of the hegemonic rule. 31 Even though Chavan remained a major cabinet minister in the central cabinet between I 972 and 1976, the symbolic and strategic moves by the prime minister were correctly viewed by the alliance leaders in Maharashtra as indicative of his subordinate status. This situation had serious repercussions on his control over the alliance system in Satara and required on his part a change in the rulership strategy, which still did not avert the erosion of his support. It is also true, however, that the only reason for the con­ tinuation of his status as the supreme alliance leader in Maharashtra, however weakened, is his access to patronage through participation in the central government. Chavan was able to affect the political process not only in Satara but also in most other districts in spite of his decline. But his effectiveness had very substantially declined, as we saw in the case of the zilla parishadpolitics in Satara. A similar rise and fall in fortunes as an alliance leader can be seen in the district of Nasik, in which he was, for the most part, only indirectly involved. His first entry into the politics of Nasik was as a rival of Hirey; for Nasik, Hirey, as long as he lived, was the supreme alliance leader. NASIK DISTRICT

Like Chavan, Hirey came from a Maratha peasant family of modest income. Like Chavan, he was active during the independence movement. He joined the Congress Party in 1936 and participated

Democracy and Elite Interests 177 in the politics of the local boards. Hirey became the president of the Maharashtra Congress only after the elite Maratha leadership deserted the party in 1947. Like Chavan, Hirey worked incessantly to counter the attack of the Peasants and Workers Party all across Maharashtra. The two found in this situation an unprecedented opportunity for political advancement. In 1952 when Morarji became chief minister, Hirey, who had been a member of parliament, entered the state legislature and joined Morarji's cabinet as agriculture and revenue minister. Chavan also joined the cabinet. Between 1952 and 1956, while Hirey and Morarji drifted away from each other, Chavan consolida­ ted his alliance with Morarji and, through him, with the national leadership of the party. 32 Hirey on the other hand followed a confrontation strategy in which he counted on the support of the High Marathas within and outside the party. He expected them to be loyal not merely to their own self-interest but also to his unwaver­ ing commitment to the cause which was supposed to advance their interest. In the end these calculations proved wrong. Chavan's strategy of gradualism and shifting alliances worked, while Hirey's influence on the state level rapidly declined. In 1956 when Chavan became chief minister of the bilingual state he did not invite Hirey to join the cabinet. In 1960 when the state of Maharashtra was created, Chavan became its chief minister. Once again Hirey was not invited to join. rn November 1961 he died of heart attack. While Hirey's fortunes rose and fell at the state level in quick succession, he remained the dominant alliance leader within the district. Between 1952 and 1961 he sponsored and presided over a wide variety of co-operative institutions which received massive state aid and protection. The institutions of co-operative banking as well as the first few co-operative sugar mills came and remained under his direct control during this period. Hirey also started and controlled a number of educational institutions within the district. As a result, he acquired a massive potential for patronage. Chavan was well aware of Hirey's strength and its potential danger for his own alliance at the state level. With his own enlarged potential for patronage he supported an alliance to rival Hirey in the politics of Nasik. V.N. Naik, a Vanjari leader, and Pandit, a High Maratha, became willing allies of Chavan. Naik had run against Wagh, a PWP leader, in 1957. In 1958, under Hirey's persuasion, Wagh himself joined the Congress Party and Hirey's alliance. Hirey involved him in his co-operative empire, and Wagh became a major patron in the district politics. The Pandit-Naik alliance

l 78 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule had little strength of its own within the district, but in Chavan it had secured the backing of a strong senior alliance leader. Even though it could not really thrive, it could not be eliminated. In 1961 when the nomination process was set in motion, both Hirey and Naik alliances were able to bargain for seats, and although Hirey had his way in most of the constituencies Chavan protected his own allies with a compromise formula befitting a weaker alliance. No open conflict or rebillion was staged, and the Congress Party was able to regain almost all the seats it had lost to the coalition of opposition parties in 1957.33 Before Hirey's death his son Vyankat had aJso become involved in the co-operative enterprises of his father. Vyankat was ambitious for exclusive control over the system of patronage which bad now come under Wagh's power. He rebelled against Wagh's leader­ ship, and in the zilla parishad elections held in 1962 Wagh was defeated in his own constituency by Vyankat's and Naik's alliance. The original dominant alliance was split when Vyankat and his supporters switched their aJJegiance to Chavan. Wagh's defeat in his constituency meant that his ambitions for the presidentship of the zilla parishad were shattered. Nasik politics was now trans­ formed from a dominant-secondary alliance system into a system of two strong, competing alliances. Although Wagh was unable to gain total control of the zilla parishad, his alliance was strong. He controlled many co-operative and educational institutions. He had in his aJliance several older suballiance leaders, including Pawar, the ex-tribal chief of Surgana. He retained control of the party organization in which Pawar defeated Vyankat for the presidency. Vyankat in turn controlled several patronage-generating institutions and gradually increased bis hold on the zilla parishad. Kavde, who was first chosen as a compromise candidate for the president­ ship in 1962, moved closer to Vyankat. Many of Wagh's former allies. including some members of the legislature, also joined Vyankat's alliance, sensing the prospects for greater patronage. D.B. Patil, a director of one of the co-operative sugar mills control­ led by Wagh, joined Vyankat and was rewarded with a seat in the state legislature in 1967. In the nomination process for the legislative elections of 1967 the two alliances met in a head-on collision to decide the issue of dominance as unequivocally as possible. Since the occ was control­ led by Wagh, it excluded many of Vyankat's allies from the list of candidates. The list was duly submitted to the PEC for approval. ln a countermove, Vyankat submitted his own independent list,

Democracy and Elite Interests 179 with Chavan·, encouragement and approval. Since the PEC wa, aware of the strength of both alliances, a long process of delibera­ tions was started with the hope that a compromise. favourable to Yyankat. would emerge. Since the stake, were high for both the alliance-. and the outcome uncertain, no compromise was accept­ able to them. In the end the PEC ignored the official list of the DCC and accepted Vyankat's. The DCC appealed the decision to the Cl c. Cha van had prei.ided over the nomination process at the ,talc level. It was his decision to ignore the entire Wagh alliance. In 1967. he was also one of the mo,t powerful members of the CEC. Under his directive the CEC rejected all the appeals of the Wagh alliance. The DCC was dissolved and replaced with an ad hoe commi1tee of forty members entirely of Yyankat\ choosing. It was then charged with the responsibility of conducting the party campaign. In rejecting the claims of the Wagh alliance to dominance, Chavan took a calculated risk. If he had perceived the relative strength of the two -.uballiances as being equal he would not have rejected the Wagh list in total. Vyankat's intransigence during the negotiations wa.., predicated both on his own perception of his ..,trength and on the guaranteed support from Cha van. By support­ ing Yyankat, Chavan tried to cut Wagh's alliance down to proper size. He did not intend to eliminate the rivalry between the two. He only expected to prove the dominance of one suballiance of which Vyankat was the leader and thus reduce the conflict to manageable proportions, rendering greater stability to both alliances. In supporting Vyankat, Chavan .ilso resorted to the patri.irchal strategy. Hirey had been the accepted dominant alliance leader. and claims of loyalty to his memory and to his contributions to the prosperity of the district were profu,e. There had been a sense of resentment against Chavan for his treatment of Hirey. By supporting Hirey's son, Chavan argued, he was making up for the conflict and the neglect he had inflicted on Hirey in the fifties. In his support for Vyankat. Chavan declared, he was paying his debt to the revered, dead leader of the district. 34 But, more important, in making the decision to support Vyankat, Chavan took ri,ks which were based on a deep understanding of the goals and strategies of the various alliance leaders. Chavan anticipated many of the moves of the Wagh alliance. By dissolving the DCC he forced the Wagh alliance to leave the party, thus prohibiting it from sabotag­ ing Vyankat's alliance from within. Wagh's alliance was thus

180 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule forced to follow the strategies of a weaker alliance. This in itself contributed to the defection of some suballiance and faction leaders supporting Wagh. Wagh followed the predictable moves typical of a weaker alliance. Even when forced to leave the party, he and his allies did not join another party. They formed themselves into the 'Jana Congress', a name taken by many major Congress dissident groups in other states. He specifically rejected the overtures of a compact of opposi­ tion parties. 3 5 By calling itself the Jana Congress the Wagh alliance (like the dissidents in the other states) wanted to keep the doors open for re-entering the Congress Party. It co-operated with other political parties, in and out of the compact, for sharing specific seats and support. Essentially it followed a two-pronged strategy. In constituencies where it was confident of success, it placed its own candidates in opposition to the Congress and the other parties. Where the official Congress candidate appeared strong, support was given to the most popular opposition party candidate. Where the Congress candidate was an obvious winner Wagh did not put up any opposition, in expectation of an eventual rapprochement with the stronger rivals. The basic purpose of the rebelling alliance was not to defy the Congress Party or its leadership but to demons­ trate its own strength. Thus, for example, Wagh supported a Jan Sangh candidate against Naik. He provided substantial financial support as well as workers for the Jan Sangh campaign. But he also persuaded a Muslim to become a candidate in the same consti­ tuency to divert the Muslim vote, which would have gone to the Congress candidate because of the anti-Muslim image of the Jan Sangh. This Muslim candidate had no expectation of winning but was only displaying his loyalty to Wagh for patronage rendered in the past. Had Wagh only wished to defeat the candidates of Vyaokat's alliance he could have done better by throwing all his support behind the opposition candidates. Without any of his own men in the legislature, however, he would not be able to claim his share in patronage for his own alliance on return to the Congress. Wagb's alliance came close to the attainment of its goals in several constituencies but actually succeeded in only one. Vyankat was elected from Dabhadi constituency, where Wagh did not set up a candidate. Pandit, an ally of Vyankat at this point, and Chawre from lgatpuri were also not opposed by Wagh's alliance. They won with large pluralities of votes over their opposition party rivals. With Wagh's help three of the opposition candidates won. The only successful rebel candidate was a protege of Pawar, the former

Democracy and Elite Interests 181

1

b

8

1 <
late and hence still had a few former allies within the state of Maharashtra. Jn spite of his seniority

230 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule and the fact that Chavan was once his protege, Morarji was unable to have his way. 3 A good and critical biography of Chavan does not exist. Journalistic or uncritical glorifications of his political life shed little light on his political style and the influences which have shaped his political philosophy and behaviour (Kale, 1969; Kunhikrishnan, 1971). My study is based on over thirty hours of taped interviews with Chavan and discussions with many national, state, and district leaders. 4 While Satara had a large number of hegemonic elite Marathas who left the Congress Party to form the PW Party, Nasik, given its lack of entrenched Maratha hegemony, could boast of only one, D.S. Wagh. Wagh, who came from Niphad raluka was active during the independence movement. He was also an ardent Satya Shodhak and was responsible for the initiation of a Maratha educational organization. Hirey persuaded Wagh to return to the Congress in 1958. Along with Hirey he became a founder of many major co-operative enterprises and controlled several of them, including a couple of sugar mills in Niphad raluka. He died in 1973 at the age of 76. 5 A good published account of this movement and its implications for elite Maratha interest is lacking. For a brief survey of the period see Stem (1970). 6 Personal interviews with Chavan and Morarji, 1970. According to Morarji, Hirey had refused to join his cabinet in 1952 because the emerging elite Maratha leaders were being slighted. According to him, Hirey advised Chavan not to join. When Morarji asked Chavan if he would join, he said, 'What is your advice?' Morarji claims to have said, 'I will not give advice, it is for you to decide' and 'If you agree with my policies, join. If you agree with Hirey's, don't. Even if you agree but are afraid for your future because Hirey is vindictive then also don't join. It did not take much persuasion and be said yes.' 7 Even civil servants, such as a block development officer, became fair game in the conflict. When Keshav accused him of partisanship, Chander spent enormous energy and resources to ensure that he was not transferred to another taluka. Similarly, on most other issues the two alliances continued to clash. Since they were evenly matched, no easy resolution of the conflict was possible (Author's field notes, 1970). 8 Keshav was proud of what he had accomplished in his raluka before Chander left him to join the Congress. However with the entry of patronage politics within the taluka with Chander's membership in the Congress, Keshav realized the futility of his opposition from the outside (Interviews by author, 1967 and 1971). 9 The relationship between Chander and Jagtap had been quite different

Notes to Chapter 5 231 in 1962. Jagtap is Chavan's kin; he opposed Veer's alliance at the district level. Since Chander was the official Congress candidate supported by Veer in 1962 Jagtap had supported Keshav even though the taller was a Socialist Party candidate. In 1967, given Jagtap·s desire for a ministership in the state cabinet, Chander's support was desirable; he therefore opposed Keshav's alliances. I O This early conflict in Satara symbolized the shape of things to come in the rest of the state. The former leader of the district local board was a Parsi industrialist who led a few Brahmin and Maratha allies. Chavan's challenge to this group was a major reassertion by the High Marathas of their traditional hegemony. In picking Balasaheb for the job, both Chavan and Veer were consciously looking for a High (Kulin) Maratha (Interviews by author, 1970, 1971). 11 Chavan was sceptical about his future in Delhi. He was replacing Menon, who had failed to meet the Chinese challenge as defence minister. The war was not going too well for India. Several state and central leaders who had their eyes on the job made Chavan's life extremely difficult during the first few years. He expected his term to be rather short (Interview by author, 1968). 12 Chavan offered a seat to the rival of Khedkar, a senior Vidharbha leader and an ally of Chavan. Khedkar had become a major supporter of Balasaheb, and he suspected that Chavan was going to replace him in the cabinet with his rival. He admitted, rather triumphantly, that he had worked successfully for the defeat of his rival 'to show that it is a mistake to try to elect men who have been disloyal to the party all their life' (Interview by author, 1968). 13 Balasaheb called a meeting of many suballiance leaders from Wai at Jagtap's residence to ensure the nomination of a rival of Veer. The two urged them to lend unanimous support to their candidate. Chavan. of course, denied the nomination to this man, Pisa!, and gave it to an ally of Veer (Interview with Pisa!, 1968). 14 In a public meeting while campaigning in his constituency along with Balasaheb, Mohite launched an unexpected attack on the leadership of Naik. It was followed by some rather exaggerated words of praise for Balasaheb. Even Chavan was puzzled by this open display of support for Balasaheb. Mohite had to explain this to Chavan later, where he used the problem of his constituency as the reason (Interviews by author, 197 I). 15 In the second succession he had supported Mrs Gandhi from the outset and had become one of her close confidantes (Brecher, 1966). 16 Mohite makes jokes about his 'kulin Maratha' status and says that during the 1952 elections both he and Anandrao were eligible bachelors.

232 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule

17

18

19

20

When one of them dropped in to talk lo some nch. elite Maratha faction leaders who had marriageable daughters he casually mentioned the name of the other as a possible bridegroom. In no time. says Mohite, they had the whole elite Maratha leadership wound around their fingers. It is not surprising that they were among the few PWP legislators to be elected in 1952 (Key informant interview by author, 1974). Ghorpade is one of the few exceptions 10 the general rule that most High Marathas did not participate in the early years of the independence movement. Although the taluka Congress Party had suggested another candidate, Balasaheb found it 'impossible to deny nomination to a relation of Chavan. Of course, there was no need for any pressure from Chavan· (Interview with Khasherao, a member of the selection committee, 1967). Most alliance leaders, including Kale, had expected Chavan to insist on giving him the =ilia parishad presidency. Chavan finally seems to have given up this idea in order to avoid total alienation of Balasaheb's alliance, which still had major pockets of strength. Balasaheb was allowed to nominate his own kin. Bhagwat, for the job. In 1972 the legislature scat from Koregaon was given 10 Vasant, a brother-in-law of Dada. a major alliance leader from Sangli and a strong contender for the chief ministership. Vasant was nominated by Chavan to keep Dada's loyalty, against the wishes of the Veer alliance. A rebel candidate from Vecr's alliance easily defeated him in the election (Interviews with Barge, Bhoite, and other key informants, I 974). Nimbalkar, the former ruler of Phaltan state, was one of the few major allies of Morarji from Western Maharashtra. He was taken into the cabinet by Morarji after he voluntarily merged his princely slate with the newly independent India. He became a loyal supporter of Cbavan during the Morarji-Chavan alliance and continued to provide support even afterwards. In 1967 he wanted a scat on the Rajya Sabha for himself and to give his legislative seat to his son so as to introduce him into state politics. Under strong pressure from Veer to refuse this request, Chavan suggested a compromise by which Nimbalkar would have remained in the legislature and his son would be sent to parliament. Nimbalkar rejected the compromise. His son contested as a rebel candidate against Bboite and was narrowly defeated because of an interesting electoral arrangement in which regions with loyalty to Nimbalkar were combined with regions with loyalty to Veer in a single legislative constituency. Chavan's gamble worked, and Nimbalkar and his son were defeated, but only temporarily, in the

Notes to Chapter 5 233 politics of lhe taluka. For a detailed and perceptive discussion of Phaltan politics see Carter (1974). 21 We have already spoken about the Veer-Jagtap rivalry. In Patan a new alliance had emerged between Veer and Shivaji (Balasaheb's son) during and after the legislative elections in 1972. Balasaheb, in his effort to return to the cabinet, sought to defeat Mohite, whose constituency is partly within the area of Balasaheb's influence. In the subsequent zilla parishad elections Balasaheb wanted his son to emerge as the dominant alliance leader. In this he was now supported by the Veer alliance because of Balasaheb's rivalry with Mohite. This had a direct effect on Kale's own aspirations for a dominant place in the zi/la parishad. Tukaram and More were denied legislature seats, and Kotwal was covertly opposed in his election by Veer. 22 For example, in his speech in Karad in 1970 he attacked the concentration of power in the DCCB (Sakal, 21 Jan. I 970). As minister for co-operalion he vowed to work for the reorganization of the structure of co-operative credit and to punish inefficient units. 23 Such compromises were possible because ofChavan's long-recognized position as senior alliance leader. If this were not the case, the conflict would most probably have led to a breakdown in negotiations. 24 Kiwal was the only alliance leader who openly took an anti-Chavan stand at the time of the zilla parishad elections. He called himself an Indira loyalist. For this he became unacceptable to both alliances, as we shall see later. 25 Bhagwat was a cousin of Balasaheb from Patan. His alliance had been in conflict with Kale's in 1967 when Balasaheb made him the president. In 1972, when Balasaheb joined with the Veer alliance to promote his son, Bhagwat joined Kale and entered the Mohite alliance. 26 Bhingardive and Shinde belonged to a scheduled caste and were on the slates because it was legally required. Neither of them had a strong alliance base of his own. Like all other members of the scheduled castes they became pawns in the rivalry of High Maratha leaders. 27 Kadam's entry into Veer's alliance posed a direct threat to Bhoite's future prospects. He left the Veer alliance and hence in 1975 supported More against Bhosle. Even though More was defeated, Bhoite was reinstated into Chavan's alliance directly. If Chavan were to retain his supremacy Bhoite's prospects for retaining his legislature seat were thus substantially improved. He saw his support to More as a mere strategic manoeuvre. Had More won, it would have been a victory over Kadam. Even though he had lost, Bhoite had still done a favour to a Chavan kin (Interviews with Bhoite, Kadam, and key informants, 1975). 28 Shankar, a low-caste barber (Nhavi), had worked with Veer during

234 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule the independence movement. He had no major alliance of his own nor any serious rivals. Since his ascending to the vice-presidency was no threat to any of the High Marathas, no defections from the alliance were likely. Shankar's bids for a patronage position had been denied in the past. Veer could now argue that the claims of weaker sections as well as neglected regions (Koregaon) were at last being fulfilled (Interviews with Shankar and others, 1967. 1971, 1974). 29 ln early 1970 Bhagwat went to Chavan, pledged his loyalty, and dissociated himself from Balasaheb. who was making threatening moves against Chavan and Naik. Chavan called Balasaheb's ambition for his son his 'feudal loyalty.' Balasaheb was probably only substituting a more intensely patriarchal arrangement for a weaker one that had failed (Chavan, Bhagwat interviews by author, 1970). 30 In 1969 when Nimbalkar jointed the syndicate Congress Party. the meditator chosen by Chavan to persuade him not to do so was Mohite, the minister for co-operation. Mohite's wife and Nimbalkar's daughter-in-law being sisters. When Kadam of Phaltan joined the Veer alliance after a long period of conflict with Adsul it was arranged through bis father-in-law, Vilas. Dozens of other examples of this kind were found in all the districts. 31 Even after the emergency was declared, governments controlled by the opposition party coalitions continued to operate in Gujarat and Tamilnadu. The dissatisfaction with Mrs Gandhi's moves remained contained within the petty bourgeoisie in the urban centres. The leaders of the parties representing these groups were arrested in large numbers. In rural areas the emergency did not make much difference. This was reflected in the fact that in November 1975, in the municipal elections held in Gujarat, urban centres came under the control of the opposition parties but the rural elections favoured Mrs Gandhi's Congress. This is an indication of the perception by the rural elite that the locus of patronage had decisively shifted in her favour (see Holden. 1975). Since the situation in Tamilnadu did not seem to respond in a similar manner. Mrs Gandhi's decision to introduce central rule in early 1976 was reminiscent of her actions after the parliamentary elections of 1971. It is open to the interpretation that the move was intended to reduce the DMK's patronage potential in view of the following elections to the state assembly. 32 In the elections in 1952. Morarji was defeated in his constituency. Hirey, rather than claim the office of chief minister for himself, insisted that Morarji should fill it in spite of his defeat. Chavan called this an act of imprudence and said Hirey missed the chance of his life. whereas C.D. Deshmukh. one-time finance minister of India,

Notes to Chapter 5 235 called this an act of nobility which did damage to Hirey's own personal prestige and popularity. According to Morarji, however. the pressure for his acceptance of the chief ministership came from above, from Nehru and Kher, and also from the various party organizations from the province. Hirey joined in, said Morarji, to ensure a seat for himself in the cabinet and to get a prestige portfolio. (Pawar and Jagtap. 1966; interviews with Morarji andChavan.] 33 Chavan claimed that a successful rapprochement between him and Hirey was in the making just before Hirey's death. Hirey had shown willingness to co-operate withChavan, and the distribution of nominations between the two alliances was carried on in an atmosphere of friendJy exchange. 34 Chavan claimed that he had accepted Vyankat's list because it reflected the wishes of the late Mr Hirey. 'This is what he would have liked to be done' said Chavan. In fact eight of the twelve sitting members of the legislature were renominated under Vyankat's list. Most of these had been Hirey's nominees in 1962. In contrast to this high percentage for Nasik (66) the state average for renomination of members was much smaller (32). 35 The goal of this compact was to bring into Maharashtra the Marathi-speaking regions of Goa and Belgaum. In trying to resurrect the nostalgia of I 957, the parties joining the compact failed to see that for the dominant Maratha elite the peripheral regions ofGoa and Belgaum were of little significance in their control over avenues of state patronage. 36 Wavre had been vice-president of the DCC until 1971 and became president, under the rules of the party, when Kavde resigned after being re-elected to parliament. The DCC on which he was called upon to preside was an ad hoe group, like the one in 1967. Wavre was identified with the Pandit alliance by Vyankat's supporters. 37 MrsGandhi's acceptance ofChavan's strategy for Nasik was based on the fact thatChavan's own dominance was not likely to improve substantiaJly within the state if this strategy succeeded. It wouJd have provided the necessary stability under which she could have weaned the dominant alliance away fromChavan after the elections. This was reflected in her support of at least one of the nominees, Deshmukh, a kin of Balasaheb from Satara. 38 Deshmukh and Vinayak were the only two aspirants in direct contact with major alliance leaders outside the district. Dcshmukh's son was married to the daughter of Balasaheb, a one-time rival of Cha van

236 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule and a possible ally for the prime minister in her attempts to reduce Cbavan's influence in Satara. Vinayak was supported by at least three Chavan allies, Wagh, Dada, and Sharad. 39 The level at which Bhoye had access to patronage (membership of the legislature) was very insignificant. In contrast, Pawar not only could appeal to the traditional patriarchal loyalties but also had major arenas in the taluka under his control. Had Bhoye been made minister the situation could have been different.

40 Wagh's candidate received over 55 per cent of the votes from Vinayak's village while the other two candidates received only 17 per cent each.

41 According to one unconfirmed report. Vinayak, because of his ambition of a ministership in the cabinet, began to move away from Wagh as well as from Dada, whose alliance he did not expect to succeed in the struggle for chief ministership at the state level. This estrangement from Wagh led some of Wagh's close alJies (Borasle, for example) to work secretly for Dulaji. Wagh had not come to Nasik to campaign for Vinayak until very late in the campaign (Key informant interviews, 1974). 42 The calculations of Vyankat and Pandit about the affairs of the state alliances were wrong. Although the conflict over the chief ministership had come into the open, Chavan had succeeded in retaining his dominance by persuading the prime minister to keep his ally, Naik, in power. Jn this he was supported by several other aspirants for the chief ministership from Western Maharashtra, including Dada. The rival alliance of Shankarao of Marathwada was thus rendered temporarily ineffective. 43 The Aghadi first came into existence in 1967 under the name of the Jana Congress. ln 1972 it provided an umbrella for the rebel Congressmen in the legislative and zilla parishad elections. The Aghadi had retained its core since 1967 with Pawar as the leader. The new rebels entered and left the Aghadi whenever it was convenient. 44 When Gyanu and Lalji both joined the Aghadi, in a press conference held at Pawar's residence, Gyanu had declared, in July 1972, 'Jn spite of any temptation, Lalji and I will not enter Congress' (Sakal, 4 July 1972). In mid-August, 1972 both Gyanu and Lalji were back in. 45 His ally defeated a Pandit ally for the chairmanship of the Land Development Bank. The latter took the matter to the court, however, and had the new election nullified. Immediately after this, the Co-operation Department was asked to appoint an administrator to

Notes to Chapter 5 237 take over the affairs of the bank from the Pandit ally. Both sides filed court cases accusing each other of criminal misappropriations. 46 Homogeneity need not be based on caste as it is in Maharashtra. In Bihar (as in several other states) three or more dominant castes together constitute a hegemonic ruling class with structured, institutionalized processes of conflict management (Roy, 1968).

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Name Index 255 Sonawane,Madhukar (Sonawane) 186,188 Tirpude,N.K. (Tirpude} 229 Vairale, Madhusudan (Vairale) 229 Veer, Kisan (Veer} 160, 162,163, 164, 165,166, 167, 168, 170-4, 186,191,231,232, 233-4

Wagh, Deoram Sayaji alias Kakasaheb (Wagh) 53, 177, 178-84, 230,236 Wankhede, Sheshrao K. (Wankhede) 229 Wavre, Shantarambapu (Wavre} 182,186,235

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General Index

Ahmednagar District 51,53 Alliances 31,35-6, 38,62-3,70, Il l,113,120,121,130,141-53, 157,158,160, 163,169,182, 189,200 Alliance leaders 35,36,59,73, 78,115,116,117,118, 120, 123-4, 126,131,132, 133, 134, 141-53 ff,154,158, 159. 162, 164,174,182.187,192; see Faction leaders,Village leaders. Ambedkar, Dr B.R. 62,223 Andhra Pradesh 44 Aristotle 220 Balutedari (Baluta System) 33,

47-8,60,61,62,224 Banking industry 40 Bhakti Movement 48-9,50,206, 229 Bhauki 72,225 Bihar 222,237 Brahmins 29,46-7,49, 50,51,52, 53,59,156,223 Britain 13,227 Buddha,Gautam 220 Bureaucracy 18,20-1,38,39,52, 115,116,117,118,155,191,204, 207,223

Canada 193, 227 Capitalism 13-14,17, 18, 21,30, 196,201, 202,205-6,207,208, 219,221,222,223,224 Carras, Mary 121-2 Caste 6,7,16,27,28-9,45, 49, 61,63,64,70,84,90,92,106, 126, 136,142,149, 196,220, 222,237 Centre for the Study of Developing Societies (the Centre) 88-91,225 Chamars 75 Charisma 18, 155 Chavan, Yasbwantrao Balwantrao: see Name index. Civil privatism 17,208,209; see Political apathy. Class societies 11-14,42,196,197 Communist parties 39 Community 10,11,13,14,16-17, 18,23,34,42,45,47,63,79, 109,198,201,218,221,223-4, 225,229 Community development program 40,54,63,203-4 Congress Party 2,6,31,38,53-4, 72,73,136,141,142,145,147, 152,161,165,168,228; electoral

258 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule 201,204-5,206,220,221;and support 39, 53. 86,88-9, 90, stability 204 6; and agriculture 91,152,153; selection 203-4; developing societies 5, 6, committees 143,144; district election committees (DEC) 143. 14-15,18, 22, 25, 41; planning 146; Pradesb election Committees 208; and corruption 21; and education 57-8,137;and (PEC) 143,145-6, 182, 183,185, bureaucracy 38 229; Central Election Committee Dhangars 56, 60, 151 (CEC} 143,145,146, 153, 182, Dominant castes 27-30,31, 32,34, 184, 229; 'syndicate' 158,234; 90. l 52,206,218,222,237 crisis and split (1969 70) 2, Domination 16,41,42,44, 45, 153-60,174; see Maharashtra 51,52,55, 61,63-70, 147. 154, Pradesb Congress Committee. Congress system 38-41,142,149, 194, 197,201.222 Dravida Munnetra Kazagam 152-3,154,159,165,186,193, 199-200 {DMK) 234 Co-operatives 30,31, 35,38, 40, Durkheim, E. 224 52,54, 72,91-100, 121; as political arena 112,114,119,126, Educational institutions as political 127,129,130,131,134,147, 151, arenas 3 I,35, 38,54,57, 112, 191; Department of 114,119-20,126, 127, 130,134, Co-operation,Maharashtra 116, 138,192 131; district central co-operative Elections 3,6, 35,36,43,53,71-9, banks (occa) 131,169; district 83, 89,90-1, 131,134,140, land development banks 116 141-53, 159,160,165,166,192, Corruption 21,37,118,119,223; 200,225; see Voting. see Patronage. Emergency 154,159,175,176,217, 229,234 Dahl,Robert A. 217 Dalit Panthers I 07 Factionalism 30,45, 50, 225 Oeocan Riots 50-51 Factions 7, 30,31-5,38,46,59, Desai,Morarji R. (Morarji): see 60, 70, 71,111, 142 Name index. Faction leaders 31,32,35, 76, Democracy I, 2,17,25-6,42,44, 78-9, 85, 86, 91,115,116, 122-3, 54,81,109,118,135,191,196, 142,151; see Village leaders, 201-2,210,217,223; see Liberal Alliance leaders. democracy, Pluralist democracy. France 13 Deshmukhs (dcshmuk.hi) 50,56,57, Fu.rnivall,J.S. 219-20 59,156,206 Development: political 6-7,67, Gandhi,Indira, Mrs: see Name 80, 83,103,137, 138-9,196,202, index. 220,226; models of I,2,5-6, Gandhi,Mohandas K. 52,91, 9,41,42,63,103,195,196,199, 136-7,155,229

General Index 259 Govemmentalization 82,92-104, 108, l()(J Gram sevak (village level worker) 103,226 Green revolution 202-4 Gujarat 29,157,158, 223,229,234 Gujaratis 59, 156,223 Guttman scales 93, 94, 102, 213-14, 226 Hegel, G.F.W. 21,224 Hegemony 14,24,25,26, 27, 32, 45,46, 51, 55, 59, 78, 79, 100, 114, 147,152, 191,226 Hegemonic class 14,21-4, 26, 27-30,31,32, 42,43, 110, 112-15, 119, 124,135,137,139, 140, 155, 157,195,197,199,203, 208, 219, 220; see Ruling class. High Marathas 38,43, 45,47, 51,52,55,58-9,63-70,79,84, 85, 88, 93,97,99- l 12ff, 124-8ff, 129,130, 132, 134,135,136, 137, 138, 141, 152,154,155, 156,157,158,160,162,164, 165, 166, 189, 191, 193, 197-9,200, 203,204,206,207,228,231,232, 233,234 Hsiao, Kung Chuan 217-18 Intensive agricultural development program (IADP) 203-4 Interest groups 1,2,3,6, 7,8, 29,43,103,104, 210 Jan Sangh 39,91,180 Jana Congress 180, 236 Janata Aghadi 185-6, 188,2-36 Jats 29 Kamraj plan 158 Kinship 11,13,16,27,28,29,31,

34,45,46,56,59,63,64,67, 84,92,142,149,151,174-5, 190,201,207,219,224 Kolhapur District 156 Kolis 156 Kosambi, D.D. 46, 224 Kothari, Rajni 7, 88-90, 91,220, 225,226,227 Kumbhars 60 Kunbis 55-6, 156 Legitimation 8,10-18,23,196, 197,222 Liberal democracy 5, 17,18, 42; see Democracy, Pluralist democracy. Local government 31,35,38, 52, 54, 93, 134, 147, 199; see panchayati raj.

Lohars 60 Low Marathas 58-9,63-6ff,84, 85,88,89,93,94,97,IOI, 105 Mahars 56, 61-3,63-6ff,75, 85, 87, 88, 93, 94, 97, 99, 101, 105, 106, 107, 129, 228-9 Maharashtra: rural politics model 25,31-8, 43,59,70, 80,89 Maharashtra Pradesh Congress Committee (MPCC) 52, 157, 177, 187 Malis 51, 56, 60 Mangs 75, 77 Mao Zedong 200 Maratha caste 32, 38,45-59,60, 63-70ff, 75, 90, 114,139-40, 151, 152,155,160,189, 198 Marathwada 158, 164 Morchas and demonstrations as political arenas 127-8,129 Marwaris 59,223

260 Elite Pluralism and Class Rule Panchayati raj 8,38, 93, 103, 114, 119,120,126,127,129, 130,131 Panjab 202-3 Parits 60 Partisan activity 8,82, 89,105-7, 110, 128, 141-53 Party identification 7, 38, 69-70, 83, 88-90, 92,106,109, 112, 146-7,218 Party organization as political arena 30, 35,38, 72,120,121, 129,130,131, 132,134, 141, 143,192 Patidars 29 Nadars 222 Patil (patilki) 32, 47,50,56,57, Nagpur city 63 59, 71,72,74,117,156,160,161, Narayan,Jayaprakash 175,229 206,225 Nasik district 156,158,176-89, Patriarchalism 18,19,25,28,29, 192,230,235; District Central 34,36,43,45,46,47,48,55,59, Cooperative Bank (DCCB) 188; 62,63, 65,73,79,103,107, Il l, District Congress Committee 135,152,154, 190,197,201,206, (occ) 178-9,186,235; Land 209,226; see Strategies of Development Bank 236; Dabhadi rulership. constituency 180; Igatpuri Taluka 180; Niphad Taluka 184, Patrimonialism 13,18,19,25, 28, 29,34-35,36,43,45,48,49,55, 230; Sinnar Taluka 181,183, 59,62,63,65,73,79,85,103, 185;Surgana 178,181;Yeola 107,111,124,135. 152, 154, Taluka 183 166,173,174; see Dominant Nationalism 13-14 castes,Strategies of rulership. Nationalist Movement 52,135, Patronage 31,36-8,53,54,59, 136,160 113,114, 115-22,124,130,131, Naxalbari 44 138,141,143,144,145,148,149, Nehru,Jawaharlal 2, 53, 157,158, 151, 152,153,156,161,174, 234,235 182,191,192,193,200,201,223 Neocolonial economics 14-17,22 Peasants and Workers Party Nhavis 233 (PWP) 53--4, 73,156, 157, 160, Nietzsche 221 165,177,230, 237 Peasants League 53 Opportunity structures 54 Percolation thesis 4, 5, 7-8,9,25, 42, 141,191,202,220; see Panchayats 30, 31,35,46,71-79, Pluralist theory,Pluralist 80,81,112,124-5,131,198,225 democracy. PanchayaJSamitis 31,116,125,161

Marx,Karl JO,11-18,41,81,197, 198,211,221,224 Marxism 14,42,81,155,196,209, 210 Menon,V.K.K. 158,231 Middle castes 32,33,35, 52,60-1, 63-6ff,85, 88,93, 94,97,124, 130, 132, 134,135 Middle class 15, 27, 30-1,37, 38, 39,41,52,138,222,227 Muslims 56,71,74, 156, 180 Muslim rulers 30,48,49,206

General Index 261 Personal rulership 18, 19-20,21, 25, 36, 43, 45, 54, 77, 111,116, 117, 130,138, 141-53, 154, 155, 159, 166,167,191, 197,201, 207; see Strategies of rulership. Peshwas 50 Phule,Jyotirao 51 Pluralist theory (pluralism) I, 2,4, 9,24,28,40,41-2,43,67,80. 81, 82,84, 91-2, 103, 110, 139, 140, 217-18, 219-20; critique 41-2, 80, 83-4,91-2,109-11, 137,139,189-90,192, 194, 195-202,210, 219; see Pluralist democracy. Pluralist democracy I,2-5,9, 16, 17,18, 23,24, 59,79,81,82,92, 109, 112,114,124,139-40,141, 147,189,191,192,193, 195, 197; critique 3-5, 7,45, 202-6, 219; in India I, 5-9,54,124, 193; in United States I,3,4, 6, 9; see Pluralist theory. Political apathy 2,4, 5, 17,139, 218; see Civil privatism. Political arenas 2-3,15,16, 17, 43,54, 92-3,113,114, 119-22, 129,142,147,152,192, 198, 200; participation in 112, 115, 122-37, 141; principal arenas 128-37; see Co-operatives, Educational institutions, Panchayati raj, Party organization. Political awareness 24,82, 93-101 Political contact 67-68, 70,82, 102-4 Political culture 84, 92, 220,221 Political efficacy 92, 110,199 Political judgment 82, 104-9,110 Political mobilization 2, 8,226, 227 Political participation 6, 8, 9. 25.

67, 108, 112, 113, 210, 227 Political parties 38,39,140,141-2, 147,148,149,153, 180 Political socialization 197,200, 208, 221 Political sociology 2,44,201, 206-11, 222,226 Politicization 24-5,43, 70,80, 81-2,92-104,109,110, 198-9, 200; see Governmentalisation. Poona district 51, 156,175 Prati Sarkar 160 Privatization 12, 13, 15,17,18, 36-7,41, 71,78,79,108,109, 110,113,115,117-18,119, 137,199; see Public-private distinction, Patronage,Public policies. Privilege 5, 15,20,34,43, 56, 59, 113,135,140 Public policies 2, 3,5, 26,30,31, 36-7, 38,39,40,43,113; see Public-private distinction, Privatization. Public-private distinction 16, 17, 20, 21,23,24, 35,36, 38,41, 43, 54, 71, 79, 82, 84,109,114, 124, 139, 198, 199,200,210- l l ,224;see Privatization, Public policies, Patronage. Radical romanticism 25,41,44, 203-4 Rajasthan 29, 223 Rajputs 29 Ram, Jagjivan (Ram) l 75 Reddi, Sanjiva 159 Rejects 124,144,146-51,153 Republican Party (RPI) 53,10