1In sixteenth-century Goa, the consent of local elites to Portuguese imperial rule evolved from overt acknowledgment to a more subconscious and internalized acceptance by the end of the century (Xavier 2022a, 2022b). Portuguese imperial dominance frequently disrupted local hierarchies, often with the collaboration of indigenous elites, to solidify control over the region. This essay scrutinizes three pivotal political and administrative moments, each intertwined with Christian evangelization and the regulation of land and wealth. In these instances, imperial authorities sought the cooperation of local elites in drafting documents aligning with their political objectives. The presence of unequal and hierarchical power and knowledge dynamics and military supremacy was a common thread across all instances, undoubtedly influencing the consent offered by the local elites. However, since it is not possible to evaluate the impact of these contexts on the decision-making processes, here I delve into the nuances of these consent decisions, aiming to unravel their underlying motivations and implications.
2To address these inquiries, this essay is structured into three sections. The initial section, “Political and Administrative Consent in Early Modern Goan Villages”, introduces and contextualizes the three case studies. The subsequent section, “Repertoires of Consent in Early Modern Portugal and Goa”, provides a comparative examination of consent within the Portuguese and Goan contexts. A third section, “Interpreting Political Consent in Early Modern Goa”, examines the consent decisions explored in the preceding sections. Drawing upon the discourses of consent among “colonizers” and “colonized”, this essay argues that these acts of consent represent micro-level decisions with macro-level effects. In the final remarks, I aim to demonstrate how the initially pragmatic decisions, motivated by short-term considerations aimed at preserving local order and the status of the local elites, gradually bound these elites to imperial rule. Despite their immediate benefits, these decisions may have failed to anticipate their long-term consequences. This is because the local elites involved in these consenting processes were probably unaware of the significant shifts occurring within the Portuguese imperial model during the early sixteenth century and their structural impacts on their future.
3The Portuguese imperial presence in Goa started in 1510, when Afonso de Albuquerque, aided by Timayya, a privateer aligned with both the Vijayanagar empire and the Portuguese, successfully captured territories from the Sultan of Bijapur. These territories included Tiswadi, Chorão, Dívar, Jua, Salcete, and Bardez, commonly known as the Old Conquests of Goa (Thomaz, 1994). Among these territories was the town of Gopakapattam, Govapuri, or Govem, which the Portuguese subsequently named Goa, along with approximately 130 villages. Immediately relinquished to Bijapur, the villages of Salcete and Bardez were definitively incorporated into Portuguese control in 1543. As this essay focuses on processes initiated in 1510, it only pertains to the regions under Portuguese dominion since that year, which comprised 31 villages (fig. 1).
Figure 1. Map of Tiswadi, Chorão, Dívar and Jua
Source: Xavier (2022a).
4Sixteenth-century Portuguese historical sources indicate that the local populations acclaimed the conquest of Goa by Afonso de Albuquerque following which Albuquerque established a contract with them. In this contract, the Portuguese acknowledged the property rights of non-Muslim locals, alleviated the tax burden they had previously borne under the rule of the Bijapur Sultanate and ensured the preservation of their temples and devotions (Thomaz, 1994). Immediately afterwards, Albuquerque appointed Timmaya as aguazil-mor (chief judicial and administrative officer) and captain-general of Goa in exchange for the military defence of the region, the representation of the local population’s interests, and 60,000 pardaos of gold per year. Later, Malhar Rao, brother of the King of Honavar (soon himself the king), acquired the same office in exchange for 40,000 pardaos of gold (Madeira-Santos 2018; Xavier 2022b). However, by 1515, King Manuel I (1495–1521) decided to assume a direct mode of government by implementing administrative practices employed by the “kings and lords of the land from the time of the Moors” to mediate the relationship between the Estado da Índia, established by that time in Cochin, and the territories of Goa (Madeira-Santos 2018, 273).
- 1 See also Rao (2022), Xavier (2022a), Pinto (2018), Magalhães (2013), and Souza (2012).
5Even though the information available about that period is insufficient to understand the forms of government that operated during “the time of the Moors” in Goa (Bahmanid and Bijapur Sultanates, between 1470 and 1510), historiography generally agrees that the Bahmanid rule involved relatively little interference in the local political equilibriums. When its control capacity became more robust, it failed, leading to the disintegration of the sultanate into five smaller ones, including the Bijapur Sultanate (Fischel 2020). Regarding Bijapur, Hiroshi Fukuzawa identified the territory of Goa as a muamala, a territory directly ruled by the Sultan and considered his property (Fukuzawa 1963). The leading officials were a havaldar (the governor), a thānedār (the chief fiscal and police officer) and a deshpande (the general scribe) (Fukuzawa 1972). Of these three offices, the Portuguese adopted and modified the role of the thānedār (tanadar in Portuguese sources). This official emerged as the crucial intermediary between the government and the gaunkari (the village’s body responsible for managing the village affairs, land usage, and associated rituals), playing a pivotal role in the administrative framework established by the Portuguese authorities.1
6While the Sultan of Bijapur asserted ownership over these territories, the exact boundaries and nature of this ownership were unclear, as well as the political and legal status of the villages and the rules governing them. It is also difficult to ascertain the extent to which the previous administrative practices could be distinctively Islamic, given the relatively scattered and brief duration of Islamic rule in the region. It is probable that the influence of other Karnataka rulers preceding Islamic domination, from the early medieval Kadambas to the late medieval Vijayanagar empire, was more critical in shaping the administrative order in Goa, but the information on the latter is scarce (Bhat and Rao 2013; Rao 2022). This lack of clarity led to the compilation of the Foral dos usos e costumes dos Gancares e Lavradores da Ilha de Goa e outras annexas a ella (hereafter Foral de Mexia) in 1526. In this document, Afonso de Mexia, the chief comptroller of the Treasury, assembled a selection of the “uses and customs” of the villages of Tiswadi, Chorão, Dívar, and Jua, also known as Ilhas (islands). It is, therefore, a valuable source for understanding the political and legal status of the lands, the tributes and rents they produced, and those who governed them. By 1541, another document apparently sealed the decision to transfer to the Christian cult the village’s rents of lands and goods dedicated to the local temples and deities. Finally, thirteen years later, in 1554, the Portuguese started a Tombo (or Foral), which listed these goods and lands and included information related to land ownership, rents and tributes.
7These three documents adapted the writing protocols common to Portuguese administrative procedures of that period to Goa. Typically, they involved signatures by members of the communities vested with decision-making power, thereby legitimizing the agreements and reinforcing their coercive power. Seeking or heralding consent could also serve as a significant political tool, particularly in situations where imperial power was relatively weak or sought to implement dramatic changes, as was the case with the Portuguese authority in Goa between 1526 and 1554.
- 2 See Baden-Powell (1900), Kosambi (1947), Subrahmanyam (1997), Axelroad and Fuerch (1998), Axelroad (...)
8The Foral of 1526 defined the local elites, known as gaunkars, as “governors, ministers, and benefactors”, recognising their authority to make decisions concerning the villages as a whole, particularly in their dealings with political authorities. During that period, a narrative of the gaunkari's timeless existence was constructed, presenting a portrayal of the gaunkari system, advantageous to its actual members, often overlooking its historical development (Xavier 1903-1907; Pereira 1978).2 Despite numerous studies dedicated to the gaunkari, there is uncertainty regarding its uniformity across all villages. Portuguese sources report variations: some mention a gancar-mor (principal gaunkar), while others refer to gancares mores or principais (principal gaunkars) and gancares do accordo (gaunkars of the agreement). Considering that some Goan villages were granted to Brahmans during the medieval period (Rao 2004; Bhat and Rao 2013), it remains unclear whether the organization of some villages resembled the jajmani system, where rural servants served a dominant family or caste. Conversely, the majority may have resembled the balutedari system, where specialized rural servants served the entire village community, with offices typically passed down hereditarily (Fukuzawa 1972, 17-18; Magalhães 2013, 9). Nevertheless, there were more commonalities than differences among them: privileges associated with the lineages of gaunkars and other officers concerning the villages’s land; judicial powers; responsibility for resolving minor grievances and punishing those that failed to fulfil their obligations; and authority to make decisions affecting the entire village.
- 3 See Foral dos usos e costumes, in Archivo Portuguez Oriental (hereafter APO) fasc. 5, v. 1, paragra (...)
- 4 See, for example, the document annexed to paragraph 33 of the Foral dos usos e costumes.
9Resulting from the interactions between the officials of the Portuguese crown and several gaunkars of different villages, the Foral de Mexia highlights how consent operated within the village in particular situations. It employs the phrase “all the Gaunkars of the village” to denote the necessity of their approval in communal land transactions. Similarly, individual land transactions required the consent of “all the inheritors” to proceed.3 However, not all were content with the agreement outlined in the Foral de Mexia's agreement. In 1534, for instance, three Brahmans from an influential Goan family contested their father's inheritance based on two different local customs. One faction argued that the Foral of Mexia only addressed one of these customs because Afonso de Mexia failed to gather “sufficient information” on inheritance rules. To resolve the issue, the governor Nuno da Cunha instructed the ouvidor (the principal judicial official) to consult additional individuals, including legal experts of terra firme, which referred to the lands belonging to the Sultan of Bijapur. Ultimately, the governor consented to incorporate another inheritance custom into the Foral.4
- 5 On that, see Herzog’s essay in this volume.
10During the same period, the systematic conversion to Christianity of local populations became gradually a policy of the Portuguese crown, essentially requiring subjects to adopt the religion of their ruler (Thomaz 1994; Mendonça 2002; Xavier 2022a). King Dom João III (1521-1556) believed that by offering “all kinds of benefits”, locals would integrate into “the community of the kingdom” through conversion. In a manner reminiscent of the Castilian Requerimiento of 1513, it was implied that refusal could result in conversion “by the force of arms”, indicating conquest or violence (Xavier 2022a).5 Faced with these alternatives and considering the potential negative repercussions of refusal, local elites had several choices available to them. A later fictionalized account detailing the conversion deliberations of a gaunkari from the village of Carambolim in 1559 sheds light on this situation. Since 1510, the inhabitants of Carambolim had engaged in negotiations with the Portuguese government, including discussions surrounding the Foral de Mexia. In 1559, they weighed their options: leaving the village and settling in lands under the control of the Bijapur Sultanate; waiting until the conversion efforts ceased; or converting, as few believed that evangelization would persist. According to the account, the Jesuit Francisco de Sousa noted that the prevailing sentiment led to the collective conversion of Carambolim (Robinson 1998, 52; Xavier 2022a).
11Active resistance to conversion, characterized by abandoning villages and revolting was observed in approximately 30 percent of the population of Goa, while passive resistance – pretending to have converted – was even more widespread (Axelroad 1996; Xavier 2022a). Additionally, accommodation played a role, particularly for the disadvantaged, for whom joining the Christian order offered a means of subsistence and, potentially, some improvement in their economic and social conditions. Conversion could also be attractive to those who found the “benefits” promised by the Portuguese appealing to their aspirations. Lastly, the “upper groups” were compelled to convert to avoid the downgrading of their political, social and symbolic status and wealth (Mendonça 2002; Xavier 2022a). The process of conversion began with the destruction of the local temples, deities, and books, as well as the expulsion of the local priests and temple servants from 1540 onward (Axelroad 1996; Xavier 2022a). In 1541, meetings between Fernão de Castelo Branco, the chief comptroller of the Treasury, and the gaunkars of fifteen villages deliberated on the fate of the lands and rents that had previously sustained them. It is important to note that there were approximately 155 temples/deities (the terminology is imprecise as the Portuguese used the term “pagoda” to refer to both) in total, averaging about five temples/deities per village. Furthermore, some villages had more than 20 shares of the village lands, with approximately one-third of the best village lands dedicated to them and administered by the mahajanas (patrons of the temples) (Rao 2022; Xavier 2022b).
- 6 A summary of this copper plate, translated into Portuguese, can be found in Barros (1988-1994, v. 2 (...)
12The meetings held by Castelo Branco revolved around discussions regarding these lands and rents, as well as the document that formalized the agreement between the government and the villages. Castelo Branco explained that following the destruction of the temples and deities, the gaunkars had decided to retain ownership of the lands and goods that belonged to them without paying any tributes. This assertion stemmed from the local interpretation of the specific nature of these assets. In 1532, Locu Sinai, one of the most prominent Brahmans of Goa, contended that the lands granted to the temples were exempt from taxation. Sinai’s argument referred to a grant made by a king called Mantrasar to a temple of Goa in 1421, as well as Indian customary law, which stipulated that religious lands were not subject to taxation (sarvamanya, a legal institute also observed in some places in Karnataka). This king was probably Madhav Mantri, who served as Goa’s governor during the rule of Vijayanagar and established a brahmapuri (a Brahmans’ settlement) on the island of Dívar, which later became a significant pilgrimage site (Vasantamadhava 1988, 23).6
- 7 APO, f. 5, v. 2, 161-170.
13The Portuguese crown officials rejected Locu’s argument, instead insisting that the rents from those lands be allocated to finance the Christian cult, including the construction of churches, convents and monasteries, and the payment of priests, among other expenses. The remaining rents would be distributed among the poor who had converted to Christianity. Castelo Branco emphasised that this decision was crucial for demonstrating to the locals that that Portuguese rule also encompassed “spiritual” concerns. Upon hearing this proposal, the gaunkars requested time to deliberate on the matter. After a period of discussion, they returned to Castelo Branco’s residence with a new proposal. They agreed to voluntarily sign an agreement on behalf of “all the people of those Islands”, pledging to pay the crown “every year and forever” 2000 tangas brancas. However, this payment was contingent on three conditions: first, the king of Portugal must recognize the gaunkari ownership of those lands and rents; second, the surplus of 2,000 tangas brancas was not an obligatory payment but rather an expression of their free will; and third, the crown would refrain from making any further demands concerning those lands.7
- 8 Historical Archives of Goa, nº 7595, Foral das Ilhas de Goa.
14Castelo Branco accepted these conditions on behalf of the Portuguese king and proceeded to sign the agreement alongside the gaunkars of fifteen villages. Present at the signing were Krishna, the principal thānedār, Locu Sinai, and Gopu, another powerful Brahman of Goa. Notably, among the locals, only Miguel Vaz, from the village of Agaçaim, was already a Christian. Additionally, three gaunkars from the destroyed pilgrimage site of Dívar were also present. The willingness and voluntary agreement expressed by the gaunkars of these villages in signing that document, despite the destruction of their temples and deities, is intriguing, even if temple destruction was not unknown in the Indian subcontinent. Equally intriguing is the content of our third document: the Tombo of 1554, also known as the Foral, which openly contradicted the clauses outlined in the agreement of 1541.8 The inventory of lands and rents was conducted village by village, overseen by the principal thānedār, Antonio Ferrão, with assistance from other crown officials. Examining the situation in the village of Carambolim in January 1554 sheds light on the gaunkari's involvement in this process:
The said Antonio Ferrão Tanadar-mor went to the village of Carambolim, the fifth main village of this island of Tiswadi, of Goa. And he took with him the Licenciado Barradas, Attorney of the College [of Saint-Paul], and Antonio Coelho, Clerk of these Islands of Goa by El Rei nosso Senhor, who before the Tanadar-mor, mentioned above, serves in what fulfils the office of Tanadar-mor; also me, André de Moura, the Public Notary; Vitu Sinai, Clerk of the Câmara Geral of these Islands; Santu Sinai, Language, and Interpreter of this Tombo. When all the Principal Gaunkars of the village of Carambolim were present by order of Tanadar mor, and Hari Sinai and Mangopa, the clerks of the said village, were present, the said Tanadar mor took the Provisions of the Lord King, gave them to the Principal Gaunkars and to their clerks to read and obey them. Furthermore, they handed them over to the said Santu Sinai, Language and Interpreter of this Tombo, for him to read and notify them to them, which he read and notified by command of the said Tanador Mor.
- 9 Foral das Ilhas de Goa, ff. 38-38v, 60-62.
15This first step made the enquiry legal, particularly after the Provisions were read aloud in Konkani. They instructed the gaunkars to list “all the lands and Properties of all sorts and conditions that were formerly of the Pagodas of the said village, and their servants”, emphasizing that “they should declare, display, delineate, name, and account for every one of them, ensuring nothing was omitted”. The consequences of concealing information were clear, with heavy punishment threatened for non-compliance.9 The gaunkars complied and elected João Zuzarte (already Christian), Goinda Porobo, Vadito and Rahul Porobo to oversee the process “following their customs”. The register comprised one hundred eighteen paragraphs, each corresponding to a property that had belonged to the temples, their priests and servants. Just four years later, the Tombo of Tiswadi, Chorão, Dívar and Jua was completed. The transcriptions were read aloud and cross checked with those done by Vitu Sinay, the clerk of Câmara Geral. Any disparities between the two were reconciled. Subsequently, Portuguese officials asked the village gaunkars and officials, both in Portuguese and Konkani, if they concurred with the document. Following this, the principal gaunkars signed the registers pertaining to their village. In the case of Carambolim, nine signatories were already Christians, but five were not. Additionally, the Portuguese crown official involved in the process also signed the document. The clerk of the Câmara Geral, the village clerks and the archive of the viceroy’s palace retained copies of the registers for preservation.
16The descriptive power and the extent of genuine consent by the local elites to the contents of those documents, alongside the familiar administrative rhetoric, warrant caution. Scholarship has primarily examined political consent in early modern Portugal in two main contexts: the Cortes' consent to the imposition of new tributes by the king and the consent of the Portuguese three estates (nobility, church, and people) to Habsburg rule in Portugal, as evidenced in the Estatutos de Tomar of 1581. Additionally, the consent of local rulers in treaties with the Portuguese king in Estado da Índia has been studied concerning overseas territories (Hespanha 1994; Saldanha 1997; Cardim 1998; Bouza 2006). These studies have illuminated the presence of a culture of consent concerning internal and external political matters among the “colonizers”. How pervasive was this culture, and what were the repertoires of consent among the “colonized”? Employing a historical semantic approach, this section aims to examine textual references to consent in early modern Portuguese and Indian dictionaries, epic literature, theatrical plays, and other historical sources to gain insights into the prevailing repertoires of consent in Portugal and early modern Goa, thereby complementing existing scholarship on these topics.
- 10 Corpo Lexicográfico do Português, viewed on 18 May 2023; Bluteau (1708-1712, v. 1, 440-442, 474-475 (...)
17I start with the Portuguese case. Until the end of the eighteenth century, Portuguese dictionaries scarcely used the word consent. The dictionaries of Portuguese/Latin of Jerónimo Cardoso (1562-1563) and Agostinho Barbosa (1611) do not use the noun consentimento (consent), but the verb consentir (to consent) and its Latin correspondence. In both, the first translation is assentior (to accept/agree). However, Barbosa adds the word consentio in translating the verb to concord, while in concordia, one of the Latin translations is consensus. One century later, these meanings did not change. In the Vocabulario Portuguez & Latino, Bluteau quickly refers to the noun consentimento, indicating the action of consenting in a contract, but also to omnio consensu (consent of all). Consentimento was mainly related to private issues like marriage and land transactions. However, there are also references to top-down consent, that is, the consent given by an authority to a subaltern, allowing them, or a collective body, to do something in particular. Theoretically, these forms of consent were the result of (free) will. This political latitude was present in Bluteau’s definition of acordo (agreement). Also the word concórdia (concord) could refer to the agreement within the political body. In the definition of these words, Bluteau also referred to the political agreement between the king and the people.10
- 11 See these search results in Arquivo Nacional da Torre do Tombo search portal, viewed on 20 April 20 (...)
- 12 See these search results in Arquivo Nacional da Torre do Tombo search portal, viewed on 20 April 20 (...)
18The digital catalogue of the Portuguese National Archives is also expressive for the period 1500 to 1800: contrato (contract) is the word that appears more frequently in documents, mostly related to matters of private law, like marriage, land transactions, and business in general. By number of occurences, acordo, concerto (agreement), pacto (pact) and composiçam (composition) are next.11 Acordo, concerto and composiçam refer to private agreements, even if, sometimes, there are documents that use these words to express the agreement between different collective bodies (the crown and a municipality, for example). Surprisingly, the word pacto, which, in medieval political culture, was paramount to refer to the link that united the king and the kingdom, appears in the documentation of the Inquisition, referring to people’s “pact with the devil”.12
- 13 Auto feito na Vila de Santarém, 1566, by António Pires.
- 14 My translation of “Mas o Reino, de altivo e costumado/A senhores em tudo soberanos,/A Rei não obede (...)
19In other types of historical sources, like the Portuguese plays of the sixteenth century, acordo (agreement) is the word that prevails to refer to a consensual decision. At the same time, concordia was mainly used to express peace situations. In most occurrences, consent was asked in matters of love, but consent also occurred when sins took place. In one of the plays, however, there is a peculiar figure called “The doorway of consent” (Porta do Consentimento) without any further explanation.13 In contrast, in the Os Lusíadas of Luís de Camões of 1578, consent and its derivatives appear eighteen times, mainly referring to top-down consent. Only once did he use it to mention the refusal to consent of the governed to the government of king Sancho II. Says Camões: “But the Kingdom, proud and accustomed/ To lords in all things sovereign,/ To a King, it neither obeys nor consents/ Who is not more than all excellent”.14
- 15 The negotiations between Philip II of Spain and the Portuguese nobility, Church and “people” presen (...)
20Published eight years before the beginning of the Iberian Union, Camões’ verses are crucial for the understanding of political consent, frequently invoked towards the end of the sixteenth century and throughout the seventeenth. This is evident in documents such as the Estatutos de Tomar of 1581, agreements reached in the Cortes, and numerous protests against the Habsburg rule, where the violation of the Estatutos de Tomar served as a central argument.15 It is reasonable to conclude that a lexical family related to the semantic field of consentimento (consent) was readily recognizable to early modern Portuguese society, evoking notions of fairness and justice. The complexity of this scenario increases when we consider free will. In the Respublica Christiana, free will (liberum arbitrium) was a concept that structured Christian theological thought since Saint-Augustine’s On the Free Choice of the Will and On Grace and the Free Choice, with consequences to Canon Law, too (Cavallar and Kirshner 2020). To contract marriage, free will was necessary. This requirement was reaffirmed in the decrees of the Council of Trent concerning marriage, and it was theoretically applied to marriages in India under Catholic rule. For Catholics, individual free will and the ability to choose between good and evil, virtue and vice were critical to salvation or damnation. This involved consenting to engage with one option over another. However, the political implications of these understandings of free will in the Portuguese world remain unstudied. This aspect must be taken into account, as the Portuguese “colonizers” were Catholic and intended to convert the locals to Catholicism.
- 16 For the Indian subcontinent see, among others, Pollock (2011), O’Hanlon, Minkowski and Venkatkhrish (...)
21A similar exercise becomes even more complicated when we consider the early modern Indian subcontinent, particularly the region of Goa. In addition to the challenges involved in translating contemporary concepts to earlier periods and across cultures, the Portuguese destroyed almost all written texts that existed in Goa before their arrival. Furthermore, inscriptions in palm-leave manuscripts (olas) that survived to the destruction campaigns, did not withstand the erosion of time and the shift to paper as the primary material for administrative writing. This makes it challenging, if not impossible, to access the understanding of consent or similar practices among the Goan inhabitants at that time. In addition, four languages were in circulation in that region: Sanskrit (only in written form), Maratha, Konkani and Kannada. Lastly, unlike other parts of India, the bibliography on the intellectual history of the Goan region up to the sixteenth century, partially due to the scarcity of historical sources, is still insufficient to advance this type of inquiry (Gomes 1996).16
- 17 Concerning earlier periods, some inscriptions written in Sanskrit also subsisted (Rao 2004, 2022; B (...)
22Despite all these obstacles, focusing on the semantic family of consent in Sanskrit historical sources proves to be helpful. Among the few texts that survived the destruction of that period, two were local versions of the epics Mahābhārata and Rāmāyaṇa, narratives retold, adapted, and performed in various contexts across the Indian subcontinent. The incomplete Goan versions of old Konkani were produced in the villages of Keloshi and Kunshashtali of Salcete, in the first decades of the sixteenth century, when these villages were still under the rule of the Bijapur Sultanate (Gomes 1996). These two villages were Smarta’s agraharas (lands given to Brahmans for religious and educational activities), possibly founded during the Kadamba’s rule. Their clerks frequently served as scribes in the courts of Vijayanagar and Bijapur in the late-fifteenth and early-sixteenth centuries. They certainly knew Sanskrit, besides the local languages (Pollock 2006; Talbot 2001). Since the old Konkani versions of the Mahābhārata and the Rāmāyaṇa are inaccessible at the time of writing this essay, I will use English versions to examine the uses of the word “consent” in these two epics.17
- 18 See online Monier-Williams Sanskrit-English Dictionary, entries 7, 281, 21; Digital Corpus of Sansk (...)
23Anujñā (अनुज्ञा) and its derivations by prefix or suffix is probably the word closer to consent, translating as “to permit; to grant; to consent; to authorize”, among other meanings. Most of the time, the word described a top-down relationship, the consent, permission or authorization given by a superior to their subaltern to perform something. However, as anujñām, it could mean other types of consent, like in the phrase “anujñāṃ tu mahārāja bhavān me dātum arhati” of the Mahābhārata, which meant “O great king you deserve my permission”. In addition, when added with the particle sama (सम), it became samanujña, that is to say, an agreement between two people or two parties. This type of consent was expressed, for example, in the Kharepatana plate that testifies to a grant given by the Silaharas –other medieval rulers of Goa– to the Avvevashara temple in Ballipatana in 1010. This grant states that the Silaharas obtained the consent of ministers and citizens before issuing it. Similar meanings can be found in earlier texts, such as the Srauta Sutra of Apastamba (1500-1000 BCE), which describes the rajasuya –the ritual of the consecration of a king, performed in South India until the early modern period –and refers to symbolic forms of consent or agreement concerning the new kingly status by the governed (Knipe 2015, 237; Simmons 2008, 228).18
- 19 See von Buitenen (1975, 14, 87, 196, 198).
24Top-down consent, bottom-up consent, mutual consent, political, ethical or another type of consent –the Mahābhārata is exemplary of situations in which different forms of consent took place; or were morally desirable and did not happen. One such example in the text is when Yudhishtira, the king of the Pāheisti, desired to be titled King of Kings. Krsna advised him that this was not just a matter of his will, but that consent should be sought from other kings. Another illustrative situation is the dice game between Yudhishtira and his cousin and rival Duryodhana, the heir of the Kauravas, which leads to the loss of the Pāndava brother’s kingdom. To play that game, Yudhishtira asked the consent from King Dhritarashtra (a superior) but not from his wife, Draupadi (a kind of equal). However, after losing the dice game and the kingdom, Yudhishtira and his brothers sought Draupadi’s consent to leave the court and exile.19
- 20 See Kane (1940, v. 4, 173), Olivelle (2013, 186, 205, 248, 642), Davis Jr. (2010, 95, 131), and Isl (...)
- 21 See Griffith (1870-1874, Cant X, 53, 59, 60, Cant XIV, 80-81, Cant XXXIV, 153).
- 22 The Manusmirti has several references to “consent”, related to marriage, land transactions, inherit (...)
- 23 See Vidyarnava (1918, 126-127, 133, 142), Colebrooke (1984). Mitāṣksāra became one of the most impo (...)
- 24 Foral dos usos e costumes, paragraphs 22 and 30. However, the interference of Portuguese law was al (...)
25In the Rāmāyaṇa, an epic depicting the conduct of a righteous prince who embodying dharma, Rama sought Sita's consent (Rama’s wife) in certain situations, although in many others, he did not. These examples align with the observations of V. M. Kane, Patrick Olivelle, Donald R. Davis, Ludo Rocher, and other legal historians, who have noted that most situations involving consent pertain to private legal matters, such as marriage. Land transactions (particularly communal ones), judicial decisions, or the consent of a superior allowing their subordinates to act in a certain manner were also common occurrences.20 This is reflected in the Mitāksāra, as well. In its English translation by Rai Bahadur Srisa Chandra Vidyarnava, the term 'consent' specifically relates to situations concerning marriage and sexual relations.21 Although no extant copies of it exist, it is probable that the Mitāksāra, a widely disseminated commentary on the Yagnavālkya Smṛti (together with the Manusmirti, the two most important legal treatises of classical India), probably circulated in Goa’s region.22 The author of Mitāksāra, Vijñaneśvara, wrote his treatise during the Chalukya government of Vikramadatya VI (1076-1126), when Jayakesi II, the Kadamba rāja of Goa between 1125 and 1147, was a feudatory of the Chalukyas. Given that Jayakesi II was married to a daughter of Vikramadatya VI, it is reasonable to assume that the Kadamba rāja’s court was under the sphere of influence of the Chalukyas.23 Some rules of the Yagnavālkya Smṛti inspired the laws concerning inheritance included in the Foral de Mexia and an eighteenth-century dispute between “Hindus” of Goa studied by John Duncan Derrett (1977, 206, fn. 6), further reinforcing this hypothesis.24
26However, legal consent could also carry political implications: it could entail permission from the ruler to individuals or groups to undertake certain actions; but also, in certain circumstances, the consent of the governed to the ruler. The classical treatise Arthaśāstra, dedicated to theorising the art of government, also examined forms of consent required to maintain a peaceful rule. Examples of such consent included the people's agreement to collect or introduce new tributes, the approval of ministers to make pivotal decisions, and the support of vassal kings for engaging war. Interestingly, the translator of the version used in this essay favoured the word agreement over consent to describe many of these situations. While consent was dominant in private matters, such as marriage, agreement was typically used in legal and political contexts (Olivelle 2013, 186, 205, 248, 642). Despite limited studies on its dissemination, the Arthaśāstra was a foundational work for subcontinent politics from the classical to the early modern period. For instance, Narayana Rao and Sanjay Subrahmanyam (2009, 183) noted that the Vijayanagar emperor, Vira Narasimha Raya, who ruled between 1505 and 1509, was familiar with this treatise. Burton Stein (1989, 70, 156, 197, 220, 429) observed that inscriptions of early sixteenth-century Vijayanagar often used the word consent, usually referring to political agreements between unequal parties. Considering that the region of Goa was part of this empire until 1470, it is reasonable to think that this treatise, portions of it, or some of its principles, were known to certain elites of the region (Gune 1953, 49, 63, 376, 378).
27A similar examination should also encompass an exploration of the concepts and practices of consent in regional, local, and village assemblies, either religious, like the dharmasabas, or political and administrative, like the villages’ administrative bodies (the Goa’s gaunkari and Câmara Geral). Although already challenged, the Orientalist narrative often portrayed them as “democratic”. Nonetheless, it is true that collective decision-making was a hallmark of these administrative bodies, much like in the Portuguese medieval municipalities. This suggests that the cultures of consent among the 'colonizers' and the inhabitants of Goa shared, at least superficially, some similarities, particularly in matters relating to marriage, top-down consent, and decision-making in collective assemblies. However, unveiling the deeper meanings of these similarities is challenging, particularly considering that their conceptions of time (linear or cyclical), sin and salvation, the relationship between the worldly and the divine, the nature of the self and community, as well as the balance between free will and determinism, could vary significantly.
28It is plausible that the consent practices involved in Foral de Mexia referred in one way or another to these repertories of consent. As mentioned above, the characteristics of the initial Portuguese imperial presence in Goa –suzerainty instead of sovereignty– were not significantly different from the two previous powers: the Bahmanid Sultanate and the Bijapur Sultanate. That is to say, as it was common in that period, it did not uproot pre-existing political and social organization, integrating the local elites into the political system, making of it acceptable (Fischel 2020, 3). In the case of Goa, that meant to integrate the gaunkari, which made collective decisions, in the political process. Decisions that concerned village affairs, known as nemos, were made by all gaunkars or, at least, by the gaunkars of the agreement. In many villages, regular meetings of the gaunkari took place weekly. The paragraphs 11, 13 and 14 of the Foral illustrate well the decision-making procedures in the village and in the Câmara Geral, another institution where collective decision-making played a central role. Comprised of members from the gaunkari of the most important villages, it served as a superior level of intermediacy between the government and the villages.
- 25 On the role and status of interpreters, see Couto (2003) and Flores (2015 and forthcoming).
- 26 Foral dos usos e costumes…, introduction, paragraphs 11, 13 and 14.
29The above mentioned village of Carambolim was part of this assembly (Pinto 2018; Xavier 2022b; Rao 2022). Moreover, the involvement of interpreters and clerks in the production of the Foral de Mexia added new layers of interpretation of the dialogues between the government officials and the locals.25 Inside the village, the clerks registered the nemos of the gaunkars, which were “the scriptures that commanded the villages” of the region, proclaiming them with a loud voice, what made them valid. Concerning the Câmara Geral, besides its clerk and the representatives of the main eight villages, the principal thānedar, his Portuguese clerk and the local clerk, a Brahman, were also present. Clerks were supposed to register the decisions and agreements made in the meetings of Câmara Geral, where the most important gaunkar of the village of Neura proclaimed the nemo.26 Moreover, if we consider, following Veena Das, that when the state “institutes forms of governance through technologies of writing, it simultaneously institutes the possibility of forgery, imitation, and the mimetic performances of its power”, the Foral could entail some positive implications for the local elites. Recent scholarship in early modern India has explored, precisely, the ways administrative and legal writing offered new “strategies of subversion”. Following Das, Bhavani Raman, for example, has stressed that “listing, and registering generate domains for all manner of transactions at the margins of the documentary state” (Raman 2012, 3).
30These observations are adequate to describe the processes of compiling the Foral de Mexia. Even if it had the form of a royal edict –a document given by the king to his vassals– the preamble refers to the “diligências e exames” (enquiries) made by the Portuguese officials to collect the information to be included in the document. This implied asking the gaunkars, with the help of interpreters, to inform them about the gaunkari and village norms. As a result, the Foral clearly expresses the command of the Portuguese crown, while some of its norms show the gaunkars' ability to protect their interests, like the recognition of their perpetual right to be the heads of the villages and responsible for the decision-making (Pinto 2018, Xavier 2022b; Rao 2022). In addition, in the writing of Foral de Mexia, the officeholders probably intentionally concealed specific dimensions of village life, namely concerning inheritance and lands belonging to the temples, seeking to preserve the villages’ relative autonomy.
31In 1541, only one Christian signed the document that confirmed the destruction of the religious life of the village before the Portuguese arrival. The others were not. Is it possible that in the eyes of the locals, the document's legality of 1541 depended on these other gaunkars' signatures? The act of signing an agreement held significant weight for the validity of a document, especially those not constituting royal edicts personally endorsed by the king and sealed with his insignia. This principle is elucidated in the Sm ticandrikā (Moonlight on the Laws), a treatise concerned with legal evidence in courts, written in twelfth-century South India (Olivelle and Davis Jr. 2018). Overall, the Portuguese endeavored to adhere to procedures that would foster acceptance of the validity of their political and administrative documents among the local population. For instance, in the aforementioned 1534 case concerning inheritance laws in Goa, the Portuguese governor initiated inquiries into those laws to ensure the acquiescence of the local elites who raised objections to the procedures leading to the compilation of the Foral (Xavier 2022b).
- 27 APO, fasc. 5, v. 1, 161-170; Paes (1952, 67-75).
32However, it is likely that the Portuguese were unaware of the intricacies of the protocols for validating legal documents that may have been in operation in Goa. Therefore, it's reasonable to assume that signing the document of 1541 (or similar ones) didn't necessarily indicate genuine consent from the locals regarding its contents. Could there have been a deliberate dissociation between the symbolic act of signing (affixing a signature) and the actual agreement itself? Another possibility is that the signatures of 1541 were authentic but had different meanings than those attributed to them by the Portuguese. This document legally recognized the gaunkari as the owners of the temple lands, stipulating that neither the governor nor any other Portuguese crown official could violate that ownership.27 As such, this provision bolstered the economic power of the gaunkari and, consequently, the village elites, while simultaneously assuming their status as patrons of the Christian cult. In reality, the payment of 2,000 tangas brancas, an average of 64,5 tangas brancas per village, was negligible compared to other taxes paid by these villages to the Portuguese crown. For example, Neura, a Grande and Carambolim paid 2,745 and 3,217 tangas brancas annually (Paes 1952). It was also negligible compared to the value of the agricultural production of rice, coconuts, and other commodities from these lands. It's conceivable that the gaunkars of the fifteen villages of Tiswadi sought to outmaneuver the imperial power and exploit the misunderstandings that prevailed.
33In 1554, the insistence on severe punishment for locals who failed to disclose all properties belonging to the temples, priests, and servants indicates a shift in attitude toward the locals and the authenticity of their compliance to the demands of the Portuguese crown. The growing knowledge of local order, governance and elite operations enabled rulers to reduce the space for ambiguous negotiations and forms of consent. Mistrust, instead of trust, pessimism instead of optimism, was becoming the norm in the relationship between the government and the governed. Concurrently, locals who had converted to Christianity gained privileged access to the cultural codes of the “colonizers”, which they leveraged to their advantage. Between 1554 and 1558, when the Foral was concluded, all this was probably at stake. Five years were needed to finalize the visits to 31 villages of a small territory, witnessing that this task was much more difficult to accomplish than Foral de Mexia had been. Between 1554 and 1558, when the compilation of the Foral was completed, complex dynamics were likely at play. The five-year period required to finalize those visits underscores the considerable challenges involved in listing the villages religious properties, far surpassing those encountered during the compilation of previous documents.
34In this essay, I argued that the ways in which the Goan elites consented to the Portuguese imperial rule during the sixteenth century evolved from overt acknowledgment to a more subconscious and internalized acceptance by the end of the century. By analysing three situations, I have identified three ways of consenting that signalled an unequal distribution of power, violence, and knowledge, and produced different immediate results. The first manner of consent, expressed in Foral de Mexia which characterized the period between 1510 and 1526, was the result of a situation when mutual knowledge was still scarce, allowing a safe space for misunderstandings, being probably the most similar to previous forms of political consent that characterized the past of the Goan territories. In line with the initial years of Portuguese presence in Goa, and despite witnessing interference of the imperial power in the village life, particularly concerning land ownership and its rents, it sealed a relationship based on suzerainty.
35The second way of consenting, expressed in the agreement of 1541, a year when the violence of the Portuguese imperial rule was at its height and systematic conversion to Christianity was already underway, expressed the “strategies of subversion” that the growing interference of the imperial government in the village life could entail. The voluntary transfer of 2000 tangas brancas to promote the Christian cult, after the destruction of their temples and deities, appears to be a device used by the local elites to mitigate the dramatic effects produced by the destruction of their temples and deities. By signing the 1541’s agreement, the local elites guaranteed forever –or believed they did– the ownership of the lands and rents that previously belonged to those temples and deities. Considering that the villages dedicated circa a third of the best village lands to them, this was not a minor achievement, reinforcing the landed power of those elites and possibly re-signifying the traditional temple-power relationship. Drawing upon incomplete Portuguese knowledge concerning the true value of those lands and rents, this consent –and the signatures that sealed it– can be perceived as fraudulent. It witnessed an interaction between violence, represented by the Portuguese, and local knowledge, exemplified by the local population, who exploited the ambiguity surrounding land ownership to their advantage.
36The third way of consenting expresses a significant change in the Portuguese imperial rule, a new distribution of power and violence, and a new regime of knowledge transaction. The transition from suzerainty to a sovereignty imperial model was accelerating. By 1554 –when the Tombo of Tiswadi started– a number of local elites had already converted to Christianity, opening a structural breach in village life. Inside many villages, the majority of the gaunkars became Christians, pragmatically or not. In practice, that instituted a new regime of knowledge transaction and increased their decision-making power compared to those that did not convert (Mendonça 2002; Xavier 2022a). The consent of local elites to engage in listing and registering the lands and rents referred to in the agreement of 1541, reversed what had been sealed in that agreement. It represented a significant reduction in the margins of free will of those that did not convert, who saw their status inside the village decrease. It also witnessed another re-signification of the traditional temple-power relationship, as the converted gaunkars refashioned themselves as Christian mahajans through their involvement in the fabrica of the church (the legal institution that guaranteed the financial sustainability of a church) or the membership in Christian confraternities. However, the duration of the process probably witnesses the resistance involved in it, which is not particularly visible in the written document.
37In The Presentation of the Self in Everyday Life (1959), Erving Goffman discussed the interplay between internalised, regulated routines and the creativity found in everyday practices. These practices often involve a subjective appropriation or alteration of general rules, giving them alternative meanings. Later, Michel de Certeau (1990-1994) introduced the term micro-libertés (micro freedoms). In the cases analyzed in this paper, the gaunkars of Goan villages shared various repertories of consent expressed through the exercise of micro-freedoms and micro-decisions. Their decisions were initially rhizomatic and had a short time span, typical of micro-politics as understood by Deleuze and Guattari. This micro-politics operates in the concrete, seeking to satisfy basic needs, often aiming for little more than immediate gratification. While pragmatically seeking to preserve the existing order, the outcomes of micro-political decisions can be unpredictable (Deleuze and Guattari 1980).
38The accumulation of these micro-decisions by Goan villagers and their effects on the distribution of power, knowledge, and violence reinforced, in the long term, the Portuguese colonization project. For Christian gaunkars, this implied changes in their consent strategies due to increased knowledge about Christian power dynamics, enhancing, at least theoretically, decision-making power. However, over time, the accumulation of these situations led to a moment when consent to imperial rule became internalised. By the end of the sixteenth century, the decisions of the gaunkari had to be written in Portuguese, on paper from Portugal (Xavier and Županov 2015, 58-59). Each time the gaunkars signed their weekly nemos on Portuguese paper, they were, perhaps unconsciously, or perhaps passively resisting it, internalising the Portuguese administrative modus operandi, thereby reinforcing the durability of Portuguese rule. However, the multifaceted nature of consent and its numerous layers are difficult to capture, rendering this examination a preliminary, introductory, and non-exhaustive exercise in understanding how it functioned in the political sphere of early modern Goa.
