Around 80 young men and women from villages in Kendrapara, Jagatsinghpur, Kahdhamal, Ganjam and Gajapati came together in Mohuda village recently for conversations around what they do, sharing experiences in a workshop on “Enriching young minds in village action”. Very rarely are young people invited to share their dreams and ambitions, and the space was charged.
Reflecting on the idea of Gram Swabhiman, Anshu Gupta, the founder of Goonj asked “what do you need?” inviting some swift predictable responses. His next question stumped them “what are your strengths, your assets?” There were tense silent moments before someone opened up to say “we have the best mangoes”, “xxx varieties of rice”, knowledge of trees in the vicinity, and much else. The atmosphere was buoyant. He then asked “how many of you are poor”. The entire room raised their hands to answer in the affirmative!
The response was incongruous coming soon after the response on their strengths. The two did not tally in any way.
The irony was evident. Who decides who is poor!
Gram Swabhiman (self respect/dignity of the village) is at the heart of the work facilitated by Goonj, which has been working with village communities across the country for the past 25 years.
Anshu Gupta writes about the Goonj experience in the chapter “Goonj — Reviving the barter economy and changing the lens with dignity at the centre” in the book “Anchoring Change — Seventy five years of grassroots interactions that made a difference”. An excerpt is shared here:
Learning about dignity and material poverty
In the creation of Goonj’s model, India’s villages have been our first university and our biggest learning ground about people and their needs, and the issues at the root of development. In my initial years of work in the villages, I was intrigued by the absence of beggars in some of the poorest villages, in complete contrast to the sight of them in many metros. Wherever I went in rural India, I also experienced a warmth towards outsiders and a strong sense of community among the people.
The biggest learning I would like to share from our journey is the need for dignity to replace charity. This one insight changed the direction of our thinking and work, away from what could easily have been a traditional model based on charity. It came from understanding the value that people in villages place on their self-respect and dignity and made me pause to reflect on how Goonj should manifest itself among these proud, warm, and courageous people. This is how human dignity emerged as the core value of our work.
The other insight is related to the giving and receiving of material. People commonly use the word ‘donation’ for such giving, but can we honestly term the giving of second-hand clothes or used household material, a donation? Are we not really ‘discarding’ what we do not need or use anymore. It also underlined the deeply flawed language of development, which refers to people who receive materials as ‘beneficiaries,’ whereas they help us extend the life-span of our material, prevent it from clogging our landfills and water bodies or polluting the air; indeed, we should actually be grateful to them.
Charity worldwide creates a divide between givers and recipients, with an inherent power dynamic that goes against the grain of development. It acknowledges and legitimises only some kinds of giving and givers — of money, material, expertise, and solutions, but fails to recognise and value the giving of the poor, instilling instead a narrative of their being the resource-less recipients of ‘help’ from the world. After a disaster we all need a helping hand to get back on our feet, therefore post-disaster aid or charity is needed for some time, but development that is built on an unequal paradigm of charity cannot lead to successful outcomes. Every one of us is an equal stakeholder in the world and when we are active participants and feel valued, heard, and respected, we can make the impossible possible. I equate it to the ‘havan’ the holy fire ritual common in India. In a havan everyone makes an offering, someone puts in the wood, another lights the fire, people pour havan material into the fire to strengthen it, and so on. The havan is successfully concluded with everyone’s contribution. If the match that lights the havan fire believes that the havan happened only because of it, that could be described as misplaced arrogance.
People experience poverty in different ways, which underscores the need for customised, localised solutions. Working across over 20 states, Goonj’s core design principle of ‘Let’s improve the world before we change it,’ focuses on acknowledging these different contexts, valuing what people already know and have in these diverse settings, and transitioning from the traditional model of trying to introduce something from outside in the shape of assistance, new skills, or materials. Our work has been around mobilising and motivating individuals and families to take their own decisions and actions, through their own creative thinking and effort, for their own empowerment and improvements in their quality of life.
Nudging People Towards a Shift in Mindset
At the core Goonj is nudging for a shift in people’s mindsets about themselves; around their own dignity, agency, poverty, capacities, and knowledge. As a community we mobilise and collectivise people to try and bring about a visible, measurable change in their own ecosystems, helping them with two key questions: Is it worth it? Can I do it? Initially the Goonj family kit becomes the motivation and nudge for people to apply their skills and local resources; their freedom to decide which issue they will tackle with a local workable solution makes it worth doing. In many instances people have gone on to doing similarly self-mobilised work on other (non-Goonj-led) issues, learning from their earlier experiences.
When we ask people in cities to give their surplus for a good cause, it embeds the habit of continuously looking through their possessions with the thought of helping another person; in the process, it builds an attitude and culture of continuous mindful giving. Such an attitude and culture among our volunteers and contributors has, in turn, over the past decades ensured a continuous supply of material for sustained rural development work. Our partner grassroots organisations in the rural areas work on diverse issues like land rights, health, education, nature conservation, etc., where the material inputs from Goonj nudges them to examine the needs of their communities in a broader way, helping to bring them closer to their communities. On a systemic level, we have firmly established that material (earlier considered fit only for charity) is a powerful tool and resource for social change and development.
Goonj’s work has been about recognising the many ‘taken-for-granted non-issues and people’, and the viable solutions around us. In an era of machines, Goonj is about valuing the role of the needle: we see cloth as a needle in the overall human development process, and a piece of cloth in the form of a sanitary pad as a needle in the larger struggle of millions of women for dignity. I see the power of ordinary people as a needle to improve our own world. Despite our investment in large amounts of intellect, resources, good intentions, and hard work to improve our societies, we have not been able to solve the problem of poverty and other troubling issues. Perhaps it is time to change our vocabulary and the narrative around problems and solutions, the givers, takers, and doers. I often say that half the world does not need a disaster, as poverty is the biggest ongoing disaster. That is why we must listen to and work with people who are most impacted by the development and disaster agendas and policies. That I believe calls for a humble re-look at our own lens and how we define knowledge, intellect, and what is valuable. I wonder what we need to do for that.
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