‘Fund the change you want to see’

The promising new initiative by the Indian National Congress for what is now called crowdfunding brings to mind the days of the freedom struggle when such an initiative was not a novelty but the norm.

When announcing the campaign, the Congress did indeed cue the legacy of the freedom struggle by linking the amount sought (Rs 138 and multiples thereof) to the founding of the party and by mentioning Gandhi’s campaign to raise Rs 1 crore for the Tilak Swaraj Fund to be able to carry on the constructive work of the Congress during the Non-Cooperation Movement in 1921.

Gandhi was undoubtedly a great fund raiser, even charging a few rupees from those who wanted his autograph! But the legacy goes beyond that, involving as it did the masses in making their own contribution to the movement for independence.

Almost four decades ago, when a group of us from the Centre for Historical Studies, JNU, with Prof. Bipan Chandra in the lead, began travelling to different parts of the country to collect the oral testimonies of participants in and observers of the freedom struggle, this was one of the questions we asked repeatedly: “Where did the funds come from?”

The most common answer we got from activist-participants was that there was very little need for funds. Political activists narrated, in their own inimitable style, the story. They emphasised the fact that political workers were extremely reluctant to take any money for expenses incurred.

Most of the activists supported themselves from family sources, only the really needy took a paltry subsistence allowance. Even in such cases, sometimes the whole village took on the responsibility of looking after the families of those who could not work to support them.

Essentially, the movement supported itself. During satyagraha campaigns, when Jathas or groups of activists walked through villages, their food and stay would be looked after by the villagers. Langars that catered to thousands at huge rallies (which were then called conferences), were run by donations of grain made by peasant households.

Both leaders and cadres on tour would eat and sleep at the homes of local activists. The big leaders would be provided board and lodging, and usually a car, by a well-to-do local family with some nationalist sympathies. Even the horse on which the big leader usually rode at the head of the procession from the local railway station or crossroads to the venue of the conference was lent by whoever happened to have a good horse.

Activists would even manage to save some of the grain and funds collected for conferences to take care of other expenses such as running the office, invariably a very simple affair—a room or two in town. This office usually doubled up as a ‘hotel’ for visiting activists.

Elections were also financed in the same way, with collections made in small amounts of 2 or 4 annas. In fact, election expenses were so low—not more than Rs 2,000–3,000—that often money would be left over for other expenses. There is no evidence of Congress party funds from the all-India level being made available to the provincial party. The flow, if any, was in the opposite direction: a share of membership fees had to be sent by the Pradesh Congress Committee to the AICC.

When a big leader, such as Jawaharlal Nehru or Sardar Patel or Jayaprakash Narayan, was to address a mass public meeting, political activists would visit villages at least a fortnight before the date to invite peasants to attend. They would also ask for contributions of grain for the langar at the venue of the meeting.

An activist in Punjab testified that on one such occasion they collected 1,800 maunds (one maund being equal to roughly 40 kg) of grain. Shopkeepers in towns were asked to contribute small amounts of cash. With these contributions, they ran the common kitchen, and saved a bit to run the local Congress office for some time.

Thus, anti-imperialist political activity was financed essentially by the people themselves. Financing of political activity—whether through small donations in cash and kind for conferences, or by feeding and housing volunteers and activists, or through the four-anna membership fees and similar donations at election time—was also a form of participation. It was, in itself, a political act.

There was, thus, an inverse relationship between the popularity of a movement and the money required from outside for its sustenance. A popular movement could generate its own resources—it rarely suffered from a shortage of funds. Conversely, a shortage of funds was usually a sign of the weakness of the movement, or of its exhaustion.

People gave willingly, because they wanted to invest in the movement—it gave them a sense of ownership and dignity. Gandhiji understood this and tried to dignify the poor by encouraging their active participation in the struggle, through concepts such as Daridranarayan, the idea that God resides in the poor. This aspect was recognised by the British government as well.

A report on Congress finances by the director of the Intelligence Bureau in March 1939 concluded that the ‘Congress has also very important substitutes for regular finance. The “appeal to patriotism” saves a lot of cash expenditures. Free travelling by railway or public motor transport, fees levied on all transactions at markets, voluntary contributions collected at meetings, fairs, etc., by Congress volunteers are examples.’

The Viceroy, Lord Linlithgow, had also specifically asked “whether Congress can, for long, continue an existence divorced from the Gandhian moneybags”. The answer he got in the same report was the following: ‘Both for normal Congress activities and for election purposes, the moneybags are less important than the Gandhian superstition [read Gandhian influence] and the powerful influence of Congress ministries in office.

With these influences to support them, local Congress organisations can command so much support from the public and also in more or less disguised form, from the official machinery, that they are in a position to fight elections without needing much money.’ (Home Department, Political Branch, F.4/14-A/1940, National Archives of India)

Clearly, the moral code of politics at that time was one that enjoined upon activists that they were simply to contribute and sacrifice, without taking or expecting anything in return from the movement. This obviously went a long way in reducing expenses and keeping the need for funds to a bare minimum.

If activists by and large financed themselves, and meetings were held in public places, mostly in the open, where was the need for large amounts of money? And if people were willing to sacrifice standing crops, then where was the question of paying to hire a venue?

To cite just one example, in 1936, when permission to hold a big public meeting on the village commons in Bundala was refused by the authorities, Harkishen Singh Surjeet sacrificed the crops which could have easily sustained his family for at least a few months. He made his 4-acre private land available for Nehru’s meeting, which was a great success.

This generosity was evident in our own case as well, when we went from village to village and town to town to garner the collective wisdom of the freedom movement. People we had never seen or heard of before became our travelling companions and unpaid interpreters in areas where we knew neither the terrain nor the local language; we were repeatedly the beneficiaries of free board and lodging in villages and small towns where we might not otherwise have ventured because there were no hotels.

The families of freedom fighters, uncomplainingly provided meals, snacks, tea and coffee when we invaded their homes.

Having experienced this first-hand, we could at last begin to understand the expression of amusement and bewilderment that animated their faces when we asked: “Where did the funds come from?”