MASSES IN ACTION

 Co-operative Credit Banks.

Alongside the Cane, there sprung up the Co-operative Credit Bank movement, since loans over the period from sowing to crop time were essential. In fact, credit facilities played an even greater role in the young rice industry. A number of Co-operative Credit Banks were established early in the century, but they became really important as the cane farming movement intensified, as the rice industry grew, and when the popularly influenced Local Government Board took over the scheme in 1916. At the end of 1915, only three banks were registered; at the end of 1916 they had increased to 18; and by 1918, there were 26 Co-operative Credit Banks in existence. The number of shareholders increased from 220 in 1915 to 5,815 in 1918; and in the same period, the working capital had risen from 611 dollars to 28.020 dollars.

The operations of the Ann’s Grove—Clonbrook Co-operative Credit Bank can be taken as a typical example. During the year 1918, it issued loans to 156 shareholders amounting to 2,508 dollars. These extended over periods of from one to twelve months and involved sums of from five to twenty dollars. Clients were chiefly paddy growers, along with pro­vision and cane farmers, hucksters, coconut-oil makers and small businessmen. Their efforts were obviously small, since there were narrow limits to what could be wrung from the colonial regime.

 The Reaction of the Plantocracy

Every one of the tendencies so far pinpointed represented a direct or potential threat to the old colonial system. The opening up of the interior, the end of Indian indenture, the rise of cane farming and the organization of the proletariat were all seen by the plantocracy as undermining the structure of the sugar society.

In the 1890s, when the gold fields were opened, the sugar planters found great difficulty in maintain­ing a steady supply of labour at the wages they offered, and this was the situation which gave rise to the Royal Commission in 1896. But the recommendation of the Commission that the Crown Lands should be opened up to peasants was anathema to the planters. According to J. Eleazar, a Georgetown solicitor, “the Crown Lands were locked up and kept from the people’s reach for many, many years because it was thought by the planters that anything done to settle the people on the land would tend to take away labour from the sugar estates”. That was common knowledge among the masses.

By the end of the war, the planters were more anxious than ever, because bauxite, balata, rice, gold, diamonds, cane-farming and irrigation schemes offered alternative employment to Guyanese workers formerly bound to the sugar estates. The planters therefore embarked on a counter­revolutionary offensive,

After the 1896 Commission, the proprietors of Vryheid’s Lust (Berbice river) encouraged the cultiva­tion of canes on their estates by farmers, the lands being given free of rent. This practice was adopted by a number of other estates. In December 1918, the cane farmers were suddenly told that they would have to pay nine and twelve dollars per acre. No notice was given, neither was there any increase offered to the fanners for their canes. La Bonne Mere was the only estate which did not pursue this reaction­ary policy. In vain did the farmers propose alternative schemes for the continuation of the cultivation of estate lands. What the planters wanted was an excuse to introduce legislation for further immigration, the only method which they knew to maintain the hierarchial plantation system. They took land out of pro­duction which the cane farmers were eager to work; and within a short period, in Berbice alone, the estates of Adelphi, Canefield, Bath, La Retraite, Highbury, Goldstone Hall and Everton were closed, ostensibly because of shortage of labour, when in fact there were many people willing to work, if only the starvation wages were increased.

The Colonisation Scheme

Early in 1919, the Chairman of the Planters’ Association approached the Attorney General claiming that there had been a reduction of 6,000 acres in the cane industry, and that there was a prospect of greater reduction if planters did not get new supplies of labour. Out of this request was born the Colonisation Bill, which aimed at introducing into Guyana another influx of cheap labour, preferably from India.

The planters introduced the measure at a time when wartime Defence of the Colony Regulations were still in force. Thorne complained that “it was manifestly unfair that when the labourers who were interested in the matter were told they were not to deal with the matter as a result of the times in which they lived, that on the other hand, the capitalists could meet together and formulate a scheme”. However, the workers refused to be gagged. They recognised the Colonisation Scheme for what it was—an attempt to undercut local labour and keep them in a position of subjection. They campaigned vigorously against the proposal when it was before the Combined Court, and warned the elected representatives that they should express popular opposition to the bill. A Chronicle editorial countered by saying that “the elective members would be very foolish to be terrorised by agitators, who warn them not to vote for these proposals at the peril of their seats”. It hinted darkly that such action would supply the strongest arguments for the creation of Crown Colony Government. Such threats did not stop the workers all over the country from making their position plain. Every one of the Anti-Colonisation meetings held all over the country was a success, while the Pro-Colonisation faction found that their meetings were invariably fiascos.

Although the Combined Court did send a mission to England and India, nothing came of the Colonisa­tion Scheme. Nevertheless, it was the most important issue of public debate in Guyana at the end of the first World War, and it showed decisively how keenly the masses were assessing their colonial situation and how determined they were to put an end to it. In the mood they were in, nothing escaped the vigilance of the masses. When the government introduced legisla­tion to ban the import of Negro American literature, the workers fought this on two occasions; when a reactionary Jury Bill was brought forward, the work­ers again fought bitterly, though without success; and on yet another occasion, popular opposition nipped in the bud, a proposal of the Governor’s that a Vagrancy Law should be passed to coerce labourers to work on public works at ridiculous wages.

The Constitution

A reminder of the type of political system existing in Guyana is necessary at this juncture. In 1891, the Court of Policy, which was until then a purely nomin­ated body, was reformed to allow the election of fourteen members along with eight members nomin­ated by the Governor, who together sat in the Com­bined Court. There were also two elected Financial Representatives, though the power over finance was constantly in dispute, because it introduced a clash with the executive authority of the Governor. In any event, it took some time before the governing body reflected the change in the Constitution, the nature of that change being to give some representation to the coloured and Portuguese “middle class”.

Given the very narrow and restricted franchise, it is obvious that the new representatives in the Com­bined Court after 1891 were not elected by the work­ers, and did not represent the workers. But some benefits were derived by having in the centre of local political power, a group of individuals who were opposed to the planter class and to many aspects of the old colonial system. For instance, as Raymond Smith noted, it is probably significant that the rice industry started at a time when the sugar industry was depressed, and when the new “middle class” were com­ing into power after the Constitutional reforms of 1891. Besides, the “middle class” themselves were not satisfied. They clamoured for more control over the affairs of the country, especially in the financial sphere; and as so often happens, they encouraged the workers to shout along with them to make as great a noise as possible.

1916 appears to have been a decisive year. A Recall Movement was launched against the then Governor, Egerton, who had become unpopular with the Georgetown merchants because he interfered with their unwholesome speculation in rice exports. How­ever, the “middle class” played to a public gallery which had its own reason for abhorring the colonial system and its representative, the Governor. The workers, too began to take up the cry for a more democratic Constitution and for a political programme for their own betterment. As one correspondent of the Chronicle wrote in October 1918, “It is a common thought among the poorer peoples of this colony that places under British rule do not make rapid progress … Until the policy of a country gets into the hands of the people through their representatives, it is bound to make slow progress”.

By the end of the war, the electorate was faced with a ‘Progressive Party’, which was not an organ­isational unit, but an alliance of politicians, which had emerged out of the Recall Movement with the intention of capturing all fourteen of the seats which were to be filled by election. Again, they identified them­selves with the masses, and this itself was to provide grounds for disillusionment when they were success­fully elected.

Political Influence of the Masses

The influence which the workers wielded under the limited franchise of the pre-Adult Suffrage era is usually under-estimated. The physical unrest of the masses was one factor which had always to be taken into account. During the first three decades of this century, disturbances and riots erupted with great frequency. They were called “Bread riots”; and one could not ask for more blatant examples of people asking for bread and being given bullets. The breath­less haste with which the colonial regime read the Riot Act was a testimony to their deep-rooted fear of mass action which they had inherited from the sugar planters and slave owners.

Quite apart from the threat of violence, the workers made an impact through public meetings. Georgetown workers met under the auspices of the B.G.L.U. to discuss the relative merits of Percy Wight and P. N. Cannon, concluding that the latter was an enemy of the working class; workers in New Amster­dam met and demanded that Eustace Woolford should return to the constituency and give an account of his stewardship in the Combined Court, and especially to explain his ambivalence on the Colonisation Bill which the workers had denounced; while peasant farmers of the East Coast Demerara met at Victoria Village, condemned the government in power, and agreed to form a ‘Political Association’, embracing members from Ann’s Grove and Bachelor’s Adventure. All this was in the period after the Recall Movement and the formation of the ‘Progressive Party’, and it may appear futile because the workers had no vote.

Yet the popular clamour had its effect on those who held the vote and those who appeared as repre­sentatives of the people. By 1923, for example Cannon had lost the Georgetown mayoralty, and while he himself retained a seat in the Combined Court, the candidates whom he supported were all unsuccessful. Proof of the impact of popular agitation against the Colonisation Bill came when the government itself decided to hold a number of public meetings to win support for the measure. The workers simply invaded those meetings, held in 1919, and passed resolutions of their own calling for improvements in sanitation, drainage and irrigation and wages before they would consent to a further influx of immigrants.

The Suspension of the Constitution in 1928

Everyone felt that the Constitution of 1891 had outlived its usefulness. The “middle class” wanted more power, especially over the finances and the executive; while the planter class, having already ceded some of their authority to the “middle class”, and seeing the spectre of mass power if more liberal reforms were granted, were willing to let the British crown take direct responsibility for the colony of British Guiana. Dissatisfaction with constitutional forms was in fact general in the British West Indies after the war, and resulted in the appointment of a royal commission, which visited the area and reported in 1922. The Wood Commission, as it was called, rejected the de­mands of the Guyanese planter class to take a step backward, but neither did it allow the presence of elected mcmbers on the Executive as the “Progressive Party” requested. No important changes were made, so the elections of 1926 were held under the Constitu­tion of 1891.

A.R. Webber, one of Guyana’s few historians, and an individual who was himself personally involved in the politics of this period, wrote that the elections of October 1926 were “fought with unexampled ferocity”, and that “the declaration at the polls showed a sweeping victory for the Popular Party; and a com­plete and devastating rout of their opponents, who were well possessed of this world’s goods”. (8) But practically every seat was judicially challenged, and eventually five members of the Court of Policy were unseated on legal technicalities. No doubt the Colonial Office was being informed of these develop­ments, as well as receiving advice from the planter group to put an end to the Constitution which gave power to the upstart “middle class” and encouraged the workers to dabble in politics.

As mentioned before, as early as 1919, there were dark hints that if the elected members allowed themselves to be influenccd by popular agita­tors this would “supply the strongest arguments for the creation of a Crown Colony government”. Again in 1925, this idea was publicly voiced by the Governor of British Guiana when he returned to England; and in 1927, it was decided to put it into practice.

No one quite knew what was the purpose of the Commissioners who visited Guyana in 1927—at least not until the following year when it became clear that they had been seeking excuses to suspend the Constitu­tion. At any rate, the Constitution of 1891 was so radically changed that the effect was to remove all power from the elected representatives. It is clear that even the small measure of representation under the Constitution of 1891 was seen by the colonial regime as a threat. Thus in 1928, not for first time nor for the last, a constitutional coup d’etat was effected to break local resistance to the British imperialist system.

Race and Class

In so far as reflection on the period under dis­cussion is understandably influenced by the present conjuncture of circumstances in Guyana, it is obvious that the question of the inter-relation between race and class consciousness is of the utmost importance. In the decade after 1955, these two factors proved antagonistic, and consequently the anti-colonialist struggle of the Guyanese masses received a serious set­back. However in 1900-1928, the situation was entirely different. Then, it was the awareness among both Indians and Negroes of the peculiar disadvant­ages under which their own race laboured which precipitated an attack on the colonial society.

Racial consciousness was mobilised when a group felt that it laboured under special disadvantanges. Indian Opinion launched an attack on the govern­ment for keeping the East Indian masses in a state of illiteracy It pointed out that of 20,000 children of East Indian parentage of school-going age, only 6,000 were attending school. This was branded as “a neglect not only inexcusable, but culpable”. On an issue such as this, communal anger was jointly directed against the colonial regime, because the Negro masses were at that very moment waging a struggle to lay the foundations of a more democratic educational system, rejecting the “Payment by Results” and other limitations which were in vogue since the Elementary Education Ordinance of 1876. Incidentally, the struggle of the teachers not only on their own behalf, but for a system of education which would benefit their pupils and the country, is un­doubtedly one of the most magnificent in the annals of the history of the Guyanese working class.

Apart from the demands for more education, there was also some consideration given to the curri­cula, and one of the suggestions of the East Indian community was that Indian languages should be taught. One striking feature of the debate on the issue by the Teachers’ Association was the position taken by R. French, who argued that unless they took steps to teach the Indian languages, the latter would disappear, as the African languages of the slaves had disappeared, and the community would be the poorer. This, and many other views on related topics, indicated that the racial groups in Guyana were seriously addressing themselves to an examination of where they stood, of what they possessed of value, and of what changes were desirable. At every juncture, they were unmasking the colonial society as the enemy.

When in 1917, the East Indians succeeded in having marriage ceremonies by Moulvis and Pandits recognised, they had gained a victory over the white-christian-capitalist conception of the society. (9), and it was against this, that the Negro masses too were directing their fire. They joined in the refrain of the Negroes of the U.S.A. that blacks had fought side by side with whites during the war, and now they should be given new opportunities.  It is extremely significant that the colonial administration saw the associations such as the Negro Progress Con­vention not as racist groups but as class formations. The literature from the U.S.A. was anathema because it was being widely read by “the poorer classes of society; and it was suggested that the local branch of Garvey’s movement should be banned because it was ‘Bolshevik’.

The Rev. Frank wrote in January 1919 of the Negro masses of Guyana, “the possibilities wrapped up in them and the powers within them are immense”. This applied equally to the East Indian masses; but for the release of the energies of all concerned, there was necessarily a process of self-realization, which was taking place in a framework of racial grouping rather than in the context of ‘nation’. That process of communal self-realization did not inevitably bring the races into conflict, nor retard the formation of organisations along class lines, nor weaken the struggle against colonialism.

What occurred in the period after 1955 was that communal awareness was for various reasons turned inwards to exacerbate racial contradictions among the Guyanese workers and peasants. I say ‘exacerbate’, because racial conflict in Guyana was an inevitable concomitant of the fact that indentured labour (East Indian, Chinese and Portuguese) was conceived specifically to break the back of Negro opposition to the planter class. Throughout the decades after Indian immigration began in 1838, there were differences over wages between racial groups on the sugar estates, brought about by the deliberate policy of the planters of playing one group off against another. No doubt, racial conflict bred racialism, and vice versa; and indeed, there are a host of other such inter­connections that one could make. What is certain is that simple and definitive explanations must give way to a more sober analysis of the complexities of the development of the Guyanese mass movement, of the relationship between racial consciousness and racial prejudice, between economic competition and racial conflict, between communal identification and class objectives.

Notes

• For an exception to this pattern, see New World Quarterly, 1. No. 1.
• This article is largely based on the news­paper reports for the period, as contained in the Chronicle and the
• Pendle: A History of Latin America.
• Chandra Jayawardena: Conflict and Soli­darity in a Guianese Plantation. (London 1963) p. 12.
• T. Smith: British Guiana suggests that this was because the East Indian “middle class” was not accepted by the already established coloured and Portuguese “middle class”.
• T. Smith: British Guiana.
• Peter Ruhomon: Centenary History of the East Indians of British Guiana (Georgetown 1938). He gives the credit for founding the Association to his brother, Joseph Ruhomon, who started an East Indian Association in Berbice in 1916. However, this Association was virtually defunct in 1919, when the Georgetown effort was made.

(8)    A. R. Webber: Centenary History and Handbook of British Guiana (Georgetown 1931)

(9)     I have been unable to ascertain the exact terms of the concession, but the matter was by no means satisfactorily dealt with, and further measures had to be taken in more recent times.