Sistemas De Gestión De Bases De Datos

This chapter explores how the rules that govern øris, low-key as they have been shown to be, are performing in the reality in the study area. It will go more deeply into the aforementioned discussion in which øris are understood to be examples for “traditional” community management; it will examine the notions of

“community” and “tradition”.

Generally, in the cited studies, there is a striking distinction between, on one hand, “traditional”, “continuing”, “user-

friendly”, “village organisations”, “community” and, on the other hand, “external” or “modern” agencies. As Mukundan puts it:

“Village irrigation organisations manage and distribute water according to traditionally established rights and claims. They consider this to be fair and equitable. Attempts by an external agency, such as the PWD, to impose a new system in the name of equity was not welcomed by the cultivators.”306 Mukundan’s censure pertains to both the work of the PWD in general (Public Works Department, the state’s institution pertinent for the maintenance of the most visible structures of big øris), and

specifically, to a program of øri modernisation (financed by the European Economic Community and applied in Tamil Nadu through the PWD and Anna University) in which equity is, in fact, an issue. In the interim evaluation of 1999 it reads:

“In any impact analysis, the equity impact is considered relevant and important. The equity is a measure of the ratio of net income of a head reach farmer to net income of a tail reach

306

Mukundan 1999: 247.

farmer. … The inequity is minimum in all the tanks [covered by the programme] which may be attributed to tank modernisation, …”307

In contrast, for Mukundan the compliance with “traditionally established rights and claims” per se warrants equity.308 _{Hence, equity is understood as the outcome of structures that are deemed to be} equitable because they are “traditional” and thus appropriate, long standing and local — which the PWD is understood not to be. The criticism of the PWD is topical. K. Sivasubramaniyan has

meticulously researched two large PWD øris in north Tamil Nadu. He presents striking examples for the negligence and inability of the PWD to maintain and supervise the øris and for the

misappropriation of public funds by PWD officials.309 He details that both the funds allotted for øri

repair and the staff are inadequate, especially as many vacancies are not filled. The latter holds less for the higher echelons of the Department than for its actual labourers (laskars): “The number of persons employed in this category in the system as a whole is barely half the sanctioned strength.”310 _“The allocations have been inadequate to ensure proper maintenance of irrigation facilities” — that is how A. Vaidyanathan concludes his analysis of money spent by the Government in the past decades.311 _He remarks that the PWD does not even maintain an up-to-date inventory of tanks and the areas irrigated by them.312 _{Robert Wade notes that in general, PWD officials are not trained to take care of irrigation} works.313 Nirmal Sengupta, in a study of various øris in India, observes that “the irrigation

administration considers the users rivals rather than partners in development”.314

As a consequence, various authors propose to relieve the State from its pertinence for øris and hand it back to “the people” or “the communities”. Mukundan speaks of a “complete failure of the pilot projects” financed by the European Economic Community to modernise øris and create farmer committees and postulates: “ýris should once again become the property of village communities”.315 Vani states: “What is needed today … is the reapplication of the scientific and legal principles laid

307

Centre for Water Resources 1999: 88. 308

See also Vani 1992: 173: “The very fact of the physical continuance of the tank system in South India establishes the appropriateness of the technology, even in modern times, where ‘sustainability’, ‘equity’ (i.e., decentralisation) and ‘eco-friendliness’ are the watchwords of the progress.”; Sengupta 1991: 98: “In their characteristic way of functioning, these farmer-managed systems meet many different objectives … and even equitable benefit distribution.” Hence, equity is an outcome of equitable structures. Relating to the distribution of water in the acreage irrigated by an øri, Meinzen-Dick 1984: 109 operates with two definitions of equity: firstly, “Equity refers to access to water by all ayacut [area irrigated by the øri] cultivators” and secondly, “equity … is based on delivery of water to those who pay the management costs. This form of equity is less readily apparent to outside observers of an irrigation system because it requires knowledge of the various costs involved in water management”. In addition to that, she states: “A somewhat even distribution of landholdings may be a precondition for effective local cooperation in water distribution.” Logically it cannot be a

precondition as well as an outcome. 309

Sivasubramaniyan 1995: 124 — 6, see also pp. 145 f., 245 f. Vani 1992: 167. 310

Sivasubramaniyan 1995: 100. 311

Vaidyanathan 1998: 35. For example, according to Agarwal and Narain 1999: 261, the Sivaganga Block in Pasumpon Muthuramalingam district got only Rs. 20,000 a year for the maintenance of about 400 øris under the control of the pancÁyattu Unions. See also p. 324 and von Oppen and Rao 1987: 28.

312

Vaidyanathan 1998: 26, see also 274, where he hints at corruption. 313

Wade 1982: 55 314

Sengupta 1991: 150. Interestingly, the mentioned authors’ argument is in line with observations and a proposal a representative of the Raj had made himself over a century ago: in a letter of 1875, Charles Steward Crole, then Sub-Collector of the Chingleput District to which the study area belonged at that time, criticises the “impracticable constitution of the Public Works Department” and the “totally insufficient sum annually devoted to repair.” As a remedy, he proposes finding alternatives for the PWD’s administration of øris — see chapter 3.2. 315

down by our forefathers in medieval times, to the physical systems that they have ensured that we would inherit.”316 Meinzen-Dick317 and Vaidyanthan suggest that the government should act as facilitator and counsellor in the management and maintenance of øris and aim at the improvement of the “traditional systems”. Vaidyanathan writes: “Ideally, the local communities should be given an active role in construction of works … The state agencies must therefore concentrate on creating an ambience and a framework in which the affected communities can explore, in an informed and transparent way with the support by expertise from the government and the NGOs, the nature of the improvements needed and evolve a package which is generally acceptable.”318 Sengupta pleads for an holistic approach overcoming the distinction between modern and “traditional” by suggesting the notion of “user friendliness” instead: “User friendly irrigation systems are not necessarily distinct units. They are designs which may as well be incorporated in the existing ‘modern’ systems to make them user-friendly. … Without such advanced technological aids facilitating better supply, the small localised systems will not rise much above what they were in their heydays.”319 _{However, he still} implies a dichotomy between “modern” and “other” ways to manage øris, whereby the “other” ways are understood to have had heydays in the past.

In the study area, the local branch of the Public Works Department is situated in Tirukkalukundram. It is headed by Dhanashekar, a civil engineer in his fifties. His native place is Chidambaram where he also did his studies. Since this is located in the delta of the Cauvery river, it is the area of Tamil Nadu where rainfed øris such as those in Tirukkalukundram play an absolutely minor role. Dhanashekar got his placement in Tirukkalukundam in 1998, shortly before my fieldwork started. He does not live in the place but commutes daily from Chengalpattu. However, most of the day-to-day work lies in the hands of his staff who are deeply rooted in the locality: one peon and two irrigation workers (laskars), Somasundaram and Vamanam. They have been working for decades in their jobs. Somasundaram hails from Tirukkalukundram, Vamanam from nearby Sohandi. They explain that they have arranged their work so that none of them is responsible for his own place in order to avoid partiality. Each of them is responsible for the øris of 22 villages. Like Sivasubramaniyan, they complain about lack of funds.

The Big øri of Tirukkalukundram is covered by 1.5 metres of silt, they say, and desilting work was carried out in 1998 by means of an extra grant of Rs. one million. However, the effect was piecemeal, explains Somasundaram: the contractor did earthwork on the bund for five lakhs, had gravel shovelled on the bund and repaired two weirs. He also removed 60 centimetres of silt of a patch of 400 square metres, which is tiny in relation to the size of the entire øri bed. Somasundaram estimates that desilting the entire øri would cost Rs. 10 million. Year after year, the foreshore area silts up two to three more inches, adds Somasundaram.

Every year in the first week of April, an assembly [jamÁpanti] is held in the taluk office during which farmers can petition concerning the maintenance of the irrigation structures, explain the PWD officers. The tahsildar320 _{and the local MLA take part in these sessions so that they are informed of the flaws} and issue directives.

316 Vani 1992: 173. 317 Meinzen-Dick 1984. 318 Vaidyanathan 1998: 287. 319 Sengupta 1993: 125. 320

To all appearances and to judge from the statements of farmers, there is no difference in the level of upkeep between øris taken care of by the PWD and the pañcÁyattu Union that has to care for øris that irrigate less than 40 hectares, such as Irumbuli øri. Both government institutions provide a certain kind of basic service for them. Yet they do it little by little. Recent actions include the mentioned desilting of a part of Tirukkalukundram’s Big øri, the repair of broken sluices in the Big øri of

Tirukkalukundram, in the small øri of Oragadam, in the øri of Irumbuli and Madulankuppam. Every year, gunny bags are piled up in Tirukkalukundram’s tÁÉkal, as well as, in Oragadam, Mangalam, Teacher’s Nagar and other reservoirs of the area (fixing the gaps with stones and earth would be more stable; piling gunny bags is always a provisional arrangement as the fabric of the bags is easily ripped and the sand washed away).

In P. V. Kalattur, repair work has been going on for three decades and is still far from being completed, reports K. Sellamuttu, resident of that place and himself a contractor. The repair is on a channel that had connected the tremendous øri of that place with the Palar river at a distance of about 10 kilometres, helping it to a rather dependable water supply, until it broke. Turai of Tirukkalukundram, another contractor, adds that even if repairs are carried out completely, they might not keep for long. His answer to the question why øris break is as follows:

“Because they are not constructed properly. If supposing we take a tender [of Rs. 100] and undertake the work, one can make a nominal profit of just one Rupah or one can make an exorbitant profit of Rs. 90. One can normally complete the work at half the charge and take away the remaining [as profit]. But nowadays the trend is for a Rs. 100 work, the contractor bribes the officer with Rs. 25, completes the work at Rs. 25 and takes away the remaining 50 for his own pocket. When a person undertakes such kind of work, there are bound to be breakes. If you do the work for Rs. 50, bribe the officer with Rs. 25 and take the remaining Rs. 25 as earning, such constructions would last longer than the aforementioned.”

Other informants estimate the cost of bribery as high as 60 percent of the tender’s total sum. Thus to fix the dams once and for all would not only surmount the financial possibilities of the respective departments. It would also deprive a number of local contractors of a reliable source of income, and it would block smoothly running streams of money in local society. Finally, it would deprive political leaders of a way to solicit voters.

As often in the context of big sums of money, the conversation quickly sidetracks to politics. Obviously it is considered to be the personal aptitude of the local MLA to secure this kind of extra grant. The shady PWD bungalow in Tirukkalukundram is the hangout of several sturdy men with polyester shirts and the modern type of loose trousers. They are contractors keeping company with the officials and hoping to be considered for contracts for small repairs. Yet they are unlikely to be awarded contracts of bigger scale. It is general knowledge that only proteges321 of the MLA get those. The role of the MLA in patronising the irrigation is generally acknowledged in his locality.322 “Only those who have political influence [araciyal celvÁkku] will take up this job. Whoever is ruling at a

321

The word used is piùÁmi, which means the registration of property in the name of somebody else. 322

Mollinga 1998 also alludes to the importance of local MLAs in irrigation matters. Von Oppen and Rao 1987: 27 observe that “Tank construction today is regarded as a welfare activity”. Akhil Gupta 1998: 138 describes a

particular time will use their power and take the contract”, say M. Palani Mudaliyar and Tulaci

Naicker, farmers of Mangalam. Their colleagues who had gathered for the interview nod in agreement. In addition to personal contacts, the adherence to a party seems to be a decisive factor for the

eligibility for a contract. In Irumbuli, farmers do not use the term “contractor”, but “party follower” [katcikkÁrar] to designate those who fix the øris on behalf of the Government. The aforementioned Turai says about repairs in Tirukkalukundram’s Big øri: “I belong to a different party, they will not give the contract to me.” He states this without wrath, just as a matter of fact. He has desilted many

øris, strengthened their bunds and constructed sluices in localities that are dominated by his party (ADMK, whereas the MLA belongs to DMK). There are no restraints in talking about this topic in public, as the following news item features:

In June 2001, the AIADMK government of Tamil Nadu approved of a tank modernisation scheme mooted by the previous DMK regime. In its frame the World Bank gave a loan of Rs. 1,060,000,000. A newspaper reporter wrote: “Early this year, tenders were invited and about two months ago, the lowest and qualified bidders tentatively chosen.” Yet in the next paragraph he continues: “Immediately after the change of government last month, doubts were raised in PWD circles whether this scheme would survive or not, because of the perception of some newly elected AIADMK MLAs that only those contractors, well disposed towards the DMK, would get the contracts. However, the administration, realising that the time was running out for the implementation of the scheme, cleared it.”323

Hence, in Tirukkalukundram, just like the øris are physically interwoven in the local landscape, their management is embedded in the local society. The PWD office is located quite nearby the centre of the agglomerate and receives frequent visits by the people of the area, last but not least to visit the god Àáumukam whose idol somebody discovered in the garden of the PWD office and which stands there now to be worshipped. Both irrigation workers (laskars) live in the area and have been working there for decades. The contractors are people of the region as well. The MLA is himself a local person. He resides in Tirukkalukundram and owns a wide array of resources and manufactures in the area. His numerous family is deeply rooted in the local society, working as teachers, running businesses etc. By means of the so-called “finance” business, family members of MLA Tamilmani have extended petty loans to a vast number of local people, many of them shopowners. Last but not least, the MLA is directly involved in øri affairs as his family owns many fields below the Big øris of Tirukkalukundram and Oragadam.

Likewise, the Block Development Office, that has to take care of small øris such as that of Irumbuli, is situated at walking distance from that øri. The way the official maintenance of øris functions, from the point of view of a farmer, is reflected in a passage of an interview with Sammanda Mudaliyar of Irumbuli.

Sammanda Mudaliyar: Irumbuli øri is maintained by the pañcÁyattu Union.

Bettina: Do they maintain it well?

Sammanda Mudaliyar: Yes.

Bettina: How often do they come here?

Sammanda Mudaliyar: Not always, because the members are not so active. If you put case in which labourers deliberately let go of the opportunity of profitable work with the government sponsored program of widening the village pond in order not to become entangled in partisan politics.

323

pressure on them, they would oblige. They would say that they would visit, but they do not turn up. But if we force them, they would come and carry out the work. At times during the rainy season, the øri overflows. Then they undertake the task of buying gunny bags and try to prevent the øri from braking. This measure would last for about five to six months.

Sammanda Mudaliyar worked for decades with the state’s milk cooperative, is more familiar with submitting representations to the pertinent government office than with picking up spades and clearing an øri’s channel himself. Likewise, for today’s generation of farmers, submitting petitions towards the repair of the øri’s structures has become as normal an activity as visiting the “English doctor” (term for an Indian trained in western allopathic medicine) or sending their children to school. Several of them are government employees themselves or businesspeople who have to deal with “Government” (in its local avatars, called by the English term or aracu) in various other respects as well and, hence, are used to it.

The memory of D. Elumalai Mudaliyar, son of Dharmaraja, is still alive today among the inhabitants of Irumbuli. E. Maharani, his widow, continues to live in one of the well-to-do houses of the hamlet. Elumalai “died too early”, says his grandson and former neighbour B. Damotharan (Elumalai suffered from a heart attack in 1992 at the age of 52), otherwise he would surely have done more good for Irumbuli. Elumalai worked with the Union Office and