A Note from the Editor

Conversations: a trialogue on organization, power and intervention in fisheries Item Type book Authors Sall, Aliou; Belliveau, Michael; Nayak, Nalini Publisher International Collective in Support of Fishworkers Download date 01/10/2021 04:59:51 Link to Item http://hdl.handle.net/1834/18202 1 CONVERSATIONS A Note from the Editor his work is based on a trialogue Tthat took place among three socially and politically committed individuals in the winter of October 1999, seemingly light-years ahead of the morally, ideologically and humanistically horrendous events of the recent past, which manifested themselves as eruptions of violence that cared little for lives, let alone national boundaries—whether these be of Afghanistan, Palestine, Israel, India, Pakistan, Indonesia, the US… Conversations is being published at just such a time, in the wake of killing and suffering. It is important to locate it in this historic context, where the sounds of gunfire and laser-guided artillery drown the natural tendency of humans to seek one another in that most primeval of urges—the need to reach out and communicate. Or, simply, converse. Even at an epochal period when the terms of discourse and engagement seem to have been permanently mutated. 2 CONVERSATIONS Though focused on the specific milieu of fisheries, Conversations deals with themes that are timeless—power, discipline, intervention, organization, motivation, will, identity. Part oral history, part polemic, part ideology, part philosophy, the trialogue takes on the nature of a freewheeling disquisition in search of understanding. It is this spirit of open-minded and open-ended discourse that we hope Conversations will invoke in the reader, who must remember that these discussions took place at a time when the world was a slightly more peaceful place and when different cultures were not boxed into antagonistic stances. Michel Foucault, the French philosopher of power, said, “In our time, history is that which transforms documents into monuments.” While not wishing to sound grandiloquent, we at ICSF hope that Conversations will be such a transforming document. 3 CONVERSATIONS In Memoriam Michael Francis Belliveau 31.7.1942 — 26.1.2002 ndeed, it is with a strange feeling Iof incredulousness that we dedicate this book to one of its creators. We do so with pained hearts and with near disbelief, as it is difficult to accept that Mike Belliveau, but for whom this work would not have seen the light of day, has left us so suddenly— even before this book was published. Yet, at the same time, we can console ourselves with the satisfaction that we have, in some measure, been able to capture within these pages the essence of Mike’s lifelong search to 4 CONVERSATIONS understand the processes that lead to social inequality, in this case, with specific reference to fishworkers. I first met Mike in 1986. His participation that year at the founding meeting of the International Collective in Support of Fishworkers (ICSF) in Trivandrum, India, had been recommended by a Canadian friend of mine, Gaetane Gascon, who, in the mid- 1960s, had worked in the Marianad fishing village, just outside Trivandrum, where I too had lived and worked in the first decade of my involvement with fisheries. Gaetane had subsequently met Mike through her work in Development and Peace (D&P), one of Canada’s leading international development agencies. Although ICSF, as an international NGO, has always had a pronounced Southern bias, Mike’s commitment to the inshore fishery and his sensitivity to development issues were so evident that, despite belonging to the geographic North, he was immediately requested to become a member of the first Animation Team (AT) of ICSF. He accepted only reluctantly— as I did too—wondering whether he would be able to do justice to the task. Our close interactions at AT meetings and during discussions on various issues, in those first three years, created a long-lasting bond, which helped us examine our involvement in fisheries with a rare degree of simultaneous objectivity and subjectivity. Having myself been professionally trained in organization methodology, and having spent almost a decade in mass mobilization work among Indian fishworkers, I found in Mike a trade union leader with a difference. He seemed to ideally, and simultaneously, blend aspects of both a professional trade organization campaigner and a political trade unionist. My own experience in India, on the other hand, was that these aspects run parallel to, and quite apart from, each other. Although Mike and I constantly discussed these issues and wildly dreamt of throwing the debate open through the pages of ICSF’s 5 CONVERSATIONS SAMUDRA Report, that never happened—for lack of time. It was only years later, in October 1999, that, along with Aliou Sall of Senegal, we got the opportunity to sit together for nine days to share our experiences more comprehensively. Our conversations took place at the little Treasure Guest House in Accra, Ghana. ICSF’s AT had planned to meet there that year in order to familiarize ourselves with the work David Eli (Co-ordinator of the NGO Technical Services for Community Development, TESCOD, Accra, Ghana and an Associate Member of ICSF – Ed) was involved in as a member of ICSF. Mike, Aliou and I decided to meet there two weeks earlier in order to record our discussions for possible future publication. Though we were all equally keen on putting something down on paper, we were also interested in just talking, getting things off our chests and inviting feedback from friends we trusted. All of us had been through difficult times in our work, which raised several questions in our minds, and we really needed to work through them. Though we wanted to get together in conversation, none of us had had the time to think through what we intended to do, nor the manner in which to do it. All we knew was that we had asked David to book accommodation for us from a particular day onwards. I went to Accra via Dakar—it is still convenient to travel to West Africa through Europe than directly from India—and picked up Aliou. That was important because I knew that Aliou is not an easy person to pin down! I arrived at Accra with Aliou, only to hear that Mike was held up in Canada due to discussions on the native people’s issue, and so would be a few days late. The delay ultimately turned out to be four days, and that meant we would get only nine full working days for our discussions. As Aliou and I had other work to complete in any case, we went ahead with our plans. After Mike arrived and briefed us on recent events in the fisheries of the Maritimes, we decided to get a good night’s rest, before starting work the next morning. 6 CONVERSATIONS When we did commence in the morning, we started talking with no fixed agenda or plan. We talked from 10 a.m to 8 p.m., with a brief break to eat. Being out in the garden meant there were no smoking breaks either, and Mike puffed away while continuing to speak. When we decided to call it a day and go for a break, Mike said, “Hey! But how will we get this book done? I do have a tape recorder but I wonder whether those little cassettes are available here, as I have only one.” We burst out laughing, with Aliou adding, “This time Our Barbarian is so high-tech that we will not find his technology here!” We often called Mike “Our Barbarian” as the poor guy had to suffer all kinds of experiences accommodating to Third World lifestyles. He ended up signing his letters to us that way too! As a ‘dutiful, responsible’ woman, I told Aliou and Our Barbarian, “OK, you guys go and have fun, but get a good night’s sleep. Maybe the night will bring good counsel about how we should proceed. Let’s be ready to start work tomorrow morning at ten.” While they were out, I went up to the computer and tried to reconstruct the conversation of the day from memory, recalling each one of us speaking. None of us had taken any notes, and one precious day had already gone by. In the morning, I reread the notes, edited them—and then realized that the whole thing sounded like a great conversation. Why not just record our conversation, I thought, so that it remains spontaneous and relevant to our own needs? I was agog with excitement at this feasible proposition. When the guys awoke, they were not looking very bright because the night had obviously been too short, fatigue had built up, and no bright ideas had surfaced. Mike said to me, “You look pepped up. What have you got up your sleeve?” I read my notes out to them, and asked, “How does it sound? Why don’t we just call it ‘A Conversation?’” They were both quite amazed. “It sounds great. I didn’t see you take any 7 CONVERSATIONS notes. How did you recall it all? It’s a great idea, but does it mean you are going to do that kind of job every day? How much sleep did you get last night?” each of them asked alternately. “Well, if you think that’s fine, then let’s just proceed. I’ll take care of the writing,” I replied. And that’s exactly how this book got on its way. We just talked non-stop for eight continuous days. When we got into very personal details, we would say, “This is off the record.” Those pauses also gave my hand a rest! I took handwritten notes, and succeeded in keying in almost all of a day’s conversation into the computer every night, trying to be as verbatim as possible.

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