The work culture of the Assamese people

Himangshu Ranjan Bhuyan

(The writer can be reached at himangshur1989@gmail.com) 

Amid Assam’s rich natural landscape and fertile land, the state of work culture that characterizes our society today is deeply concerning and, to a large extent, disappointing. Historically, we were an agrarian society where almost every individual produced nearly everything required for daily life through personal effort. Over time, however, this idea of self-sufficiency gradually gave birth to an unusual sense of comfort-seeking and idleness. Our land is so fertile that many things grow with minimal effort, and this abundance of nature has, in many ways, distanced us from the spirit of hard work. At a time when people across the world, in this era of globalization, understand the value of every passing second and compete relentlessly, we continue to embrace a philosophy of ease as the guiding principle of our lives. A glance at the marketplace reveals that, from our daily food items to materials used in construction, we depend heavily on other states for almost everything. Our fields remain uncultivated while we sit comfortably in our drawing rooms discussing unemployment. This is perhaps the greatest irony of our work culture — we feel ashamed to work, yet never hesitate to complain about scarcity. Physical labour is still regarded as inferior in our society, causing educated young people to distance themselves from productive occupations while wasting their valuable years chasing secure government jobs. Such a mindset has not only weakened us economically but has also shaped us into a psychologically dependent society that fails to utilize its own resources.

Another major reason behind the decline of work culture in Assamese society is our distorted perception of social prestige. We tend to judge an occupation not by its dignity or economic value but by whether it enhances or diminishes our social status. An Assamese youth often feels embarrassed to tile his own land or sit by the roadside selling vegetables, yet does not hesitate to perform far more demanding work as a security guard in Delhi or Bengaluru. The reason is simple—there, no one knows him. Our work culture, therefore, is influenced more by the fear of public opinion than by personal aspiration or necessity. This obsession with “What will people say?” has rendered thousands of capable hands unproductive. If we observe our neighbouring states, we find that people there respect every form of work, and that is precisely why nearly ninety percent of business and commerce in Assam today remains under their control. While we continue raising slogans about protecting indigenous interests, the economic foundation of our land steadily slips into the hands of others. Today, even an indigenous Assamese family requires migrant masons to build a house, while carpenters, bricklayers, and skilled workers of every kind have to be brought from outside the state. This alone demonstrates how completely the dignity of labour has eroded in our society. We have created an environment where a hardworking labourer is dismissed as a mere manual worker, whereas someone who spends his days doing nothing is often regarded as a respectable gentleman. Unless this poisonous social outlook changes our work culture can never improve.

The relationship between our education system and work culture is equally fragile. Our educational institutions have largely trained us to become degree-holding job seekers rather than entrepreneurs or skilled professionals. Once a student earns a graduate or postgraduate degree, the belief naturally settles in his mind that employment is now his only option. He begins to consider his own hands unsuitable for productive work. Technical education and practical knowledge, which deserve significant emphasis within our institutions, continue to receive inadequate attention. Consequently, a vast generation of unemployed youth has emerged—young people who possess degrees but lack specialized skills. In today’s highly competitive global economy, skills matter far more than academic qualifications. Because our youth often lack these practical competencies, they struggle to survive in the private sector. Government employment appears to be their only hope. But how many jobs can the government realistically provide? This limitation has fuelled widespread frustration, pushing many young people towards substance abuse and even criminal activities. The blind obsession with government employment has itself become a major obstacle to our work culture. Many believe that securing a government job guarantees a stable salary with minimal effort and lifelong security. Such an obsession with security has gradually extinguished courage, innovation, and entrepreneurial spirit within our society. A society in which an educated young man prefers standing in line for a fourth-grade government post rather than establishing his own enterprise can never hope for a bright economic future.

The growing culture of extortion in present-day Assam has become the final nail in the coffin of our work ethic. For certain groups, collecting money through intimidation and coercion without working has effectively become a profession. Under various organizational banners, many exploit the language of nationalism to create an atmosphere of disorder, making it impossible for a healthy work environment to flourish. When a businessman or entrepreneur is repeatedly obstructed and compelled to surrender part of his hard-earned income to such self-appointed leaders, his motivation to continue working naturally declines. This system sends a dangerous message to young people—that wealth can be acquired not through education or hard work but by joining an organization and displaying aggression. As a consequence, genuine workers and talented individuals are increasingly marginalized. At the same time, the countless festivals and celebrations observed in our society consume enormous amounts of productive time, though few ever account for this loss. The enthusiasm with which people spend months collecting donations and preparing for Bihu celebrations, if channeled into productive economic activity, could have transformed Assam altogether. There is nothing wrong with celebrating festivals. What is destructive is suspending productivity in the name of celebration. We seek enjoyment without corresponding labour, encouraging consumerism while steadily reducing productivity.

Another disturbing aspect of our work culture lies in our lack of respect for time. For many Assamese people, time appears to be an endlessly elastic concept. Whether in government offices or personal commitments, there is an alarming absence of professionalism and responsibility regarding the completion of tasks within stipulated deadlines. The attitude of “If not today, then tomorrow” has pushed us far behind in an increasingly competitive world. Among many local business owners, one often notices that there is no fixed schedule for opening or closing shops, while even basic courtesy towards customers is frequently absent. They behave as though customers should feel grateful for purchasing goods from them. By contrast, migrant businessmen often treat customers with utmost respect and dedicate themselves sincerely to their work. The marketplace has no place for emotional attachment; it rewards only quality service and healthy competition. Unless we improve our punctuality and our sense of responsibility towards customers, we will continue to become strangers in our own homeland. Furthermore, the growing class of middlemen has broken the backbone of genuine producers. A farmer who struggles to cultivate a crop often earns far less than the intermediary who merely trades it. The dominance of these middlemen has discouraged ordinary people from engaging in productive occupations. Consequently, the rural economy has entered a severe crisis, while young people abandon agriculture and migrate to towns in search of low-paying jobs.

Reviving the work culture of Assam requires reconnecting our religious and spiritual philosophy with the value of labour. Srimanta Sankardeva taught us that work itself is worship, yet we confined that ideal within the walls of the Namghar. True religion is expressed through service to humanity and society. Had we regarded every piece of work as an act of worship, our condition today would have been very different. We must remember that there is no substitute for hard work. Every nation that has achieved prosperity has reached that position through relentless labour and sacrifice. It is not enough to glorify our past; we must embrace the challenges of the present. Our younger generation must learn that there is no loss of dignity in getting one’s hands dirty with honest work. True loss of dignity comes only from extending one’s hand before others in dependence. Those among us who have succeeded as farmers, entrepreneurs, and businessmen deserve recognition as role models so that others may draw inspiration from them. Until an educated young person begins to regard selling fish or ploughing a field as honourable occupations, the crisis within our national life will remain unresolved. Work culture cannot be imposed from outside; it forms an inseparable part of a nation’s character. Building that character must begin now.

A careful examination of the entire situation makes it evident that the absence of a healthy work culture in Assam is not merely an economic problem but a profound psychological and social crisis. We live amidst a strange contradiction—we desire a better standard of living while refusing to undertake the labour necessary to achieve it. Instead of recognizing the opportunities surrounding us, we waste our time envying the success of others. This culture of jealousy has replaced cooperation with division. Whenever an Assamese individual ventures into something new, society often concerns itself more with pulling him down than supporting his efforts. This is perhaps the ugliest dimension of our work culture. Unless we learn to move forward together, we can never compete with powerful external investors and business houses. What Assam needs today is a form of economic nationalism—not one rooted merely in linguistic sentiment, but one founded upon a collective commitment to establish our rightful place through productive work. If we are to reclaim the fields of economic activity that have gradually slipped from our hands, transforming our mindset has become unavoidable. For hardworking people, opportunities exist everywhere in the world, and any nation that truly loves its land should never hesitate to make that land yield prosperity. Work alone is the true identity of an individual, and only through that identity can we build a strong, self-reliant Assam.