Commons and Care in Senegal: Social Security in the Face of Social and Environmental Change in Casamance

Abstract

This article examines shifting practices of commoning among the Jola in the Casamance region of Senegal. Drawing on ethnographic fieldwork and a theoretical background of New Institutional Political Ecology as well as commoning, it explores how a collective social security system formed through collectively labored rice fields is increasingly strained by socio-economic pressures and environmental change. While migration due to environmental change is often cited as a primary cause for labor shortages in the rice fields, the study highlights deeper transformations linked to a powerful naturalist ontology leading to deagrarianization. Newly formed systems of solidarity, such as the association Servir Bubajum Áyii, adapt persisting commoning principles to contemporary needs, maintaining commoning principles rooted in pre-colonial commons and support mechanisms with values such as discretion and dignity despite the changes.

1. Introduction

As argued by Achille Mbembe, the study of Africa has long been dominated by two modes of argumentation, one of which he calls descriptivism. “[I]t is a way of defining and reading African life-forms that simply relies on a series of anecdotes and negative statements or that simply turns to statistical indices to measure the gap between what Africa is and what we are told it ought to be. This way of reading always ends up constructing Africa as a pathological case, as a figure of lack” [1] (p. 26). The literature that portrays Africa as a figure of lack neglects the colonial history of Africa, where colonialism has created fundamental economic, political, and social structures that have increased vulnerability [2]. One example of descriptivism is the presumed lack of food and social security systems in Africa. Researchers and policymakers have frequently claimed that social security systems are either absent or weak in African contexts. However, such assessments often rely solely on Eurocentric models of social security, thereby overlooking longstanding systems that are based on different principles [3]. When it is argued that social security systems do not exist in Africa, this implicitly suggests that the continent is ill-equipped to cope with times of crisis. Such claims, however, often fail to consider the historical context, particularly the ways in which (post)colonial practices have contributed to the erosion or disappearance of pre-existing systems of social security. As various scholars have shown, many systems of social security in Africa were based on collectively managed resources and took diverse forms. In Botswana and Zimbabwe, for example, communities cultivated fields together, and the harvest was stored by a chief. These reserves were then used during periods of drought or to support the poor [4,5,6,7]. In other systems, for example among the Leya in Burkina Faso, individuals were required to contribute a portion of their surplus to a local authority, who in turn redistributed these resources to care for the vulnerable and to provide support during times of crisis [8]. Most of these interrelated food and social security systems in common property were undermined or disappeared during colonial times [9].

However, in the very southwestern part of Senegal, surrounding the village of Oussouye, a system based on collectively managed rice resources persists. This common-pool resource (CPR), referred to as Huyinum in the language of Jola-Kasa1, which is based on the collective care of several rice fields. These fields are overseen by a figure translated as “king” (áyii)2, who is, among other responsibilities, charged with supervising numerous spirit shrines, organizing various initiation rituals, serving as a judge, and ensuring the rice supply for the population [21,22]. The rice is cultivated by various village communities. The harvest is stored at a central location at the residence of the áyii’s wives (called asékéne in Jola-Kasa) and can be discreetly requested by those in need. Unlike the other CPR-based systems mentioned above, this system has prevailed despite changes due to colonialism, capitalism, and climate change.

This article draws on the literature of New Institutional Political Ecology (NIPE) [23], which examines transformations in common property systems under the influence of external forces and embedded power structures, as well as on scholarship on commoning, which emphasizes the collective social practices through which commons are constituted [24,25,26,27,28]. These two approaches are mutually complementary: while NIPE provides a robust framework for uncovering power dynamics and examining the external drivers of change, the lens of commoning foregrounds the everyday practices through which commons are enacted and sustained. This case study offers a particularly valuable opportunity to examine the dynamics of the commons in the context of structural transformations affecting social security. It represents one of the few remaining systems of social protection rooted in common-pool resources (CPRs), while the rice fields—and thus the Huyinum—are increasingly impacted by both environmental and societal change [14,29].

It will be analyzed how the commoning practices around the common property food security regime Huyinum changed under the influence of powerful external factors rooted in a naturalistic ontology that divides nature from culture under the colonial and postcolonial capitalist regime [30]. The article suggests that the collective rice fields are cultivated less intensively due to external factors embedded in the dominant ontology of naturalism, which shapes younger generations’ increasing reliance on monetized livelihoods, typically earned in urban contexts, and their declining valuation of collective rice farming. As the decline in rice cultivation limits the áyii’s ability to fulfill his role of being responsible for coordinating and ensuring the community’s rice supply, the population has innovatively established a new system of assistance supporting the old one. It will be argued that in this newer system, the core principles underlying the practice of commoning in the collective fields that ensure social security—such as broadly shared access to the resource, the discretion surrounding requests for assistance, and the enduring role of the “royal” family in overseeing the process—remain intact. Moreover, it will be shown that, in line with Wilhelm-Solomon, Kankonde Bukasa, and Núñez, plural ontologies coexist within the same societies and spaces [31].

The next section provides an explanation of the theoretical framework that structures the analysis, namely NIPE and commoning. This is followed by a brief introduction to the research site and to the methods applied. The Section 4 begins with a normative analysis of how the principles of commoning operate in the context of the Huyinum and the distribution of rice. It then examines the key factors driving change before presenting the new system that has been introduced in response.

2. Theoretical Perspective

This article will mainly be informed by two theoretical strands of the commons debate: First, NIPE [23], and second, commoning [24,25,26,27,28]. Commoning is not a comprehensive concept like NIPE but rather characterizes a distinctive approach to the subject of commons that provides important analytical features not included in NIPE. Although commoning critiques institutional approaches, I argue that both concepts offer valuable insights that enhance the analysis presented in this study.

New Institutional Political Ecology (NIPE) combines the concept of New Institutionalism (NI), as proposed by Douglass North [32] and extended with insights from social anthropology [33], together with Political Ecology (PE). New Institutionalism, contrary to Old Institutionalism, is generally associated with a framework that views institutions as mechanisms for reducing transaction costs, thereby neglecting issues of power. However, both North and Ensminger “looked explicitly not just at institutions as a means to reduce transaction costs, but at actors’ power as bargaining power and their options to select rules and transform as well as ideologically legitimize multiple institutional settings” [23] (p. 90). Thus, Ensminger proposed a model of institutional change where external changes in the spheres of environment (both social-economic and physical), population, and technology result in the transformation of relative prices of the commons. The changes in relative prices (for example, common-pool resources) then impact local bargaining power. Those actors with more bargaining power have better capacities to maintain, select, and/or change institutions (rules, regulations, law, norms, etc.), legitimize this use by ideology (discourses and narratives), and shape forms of organization. This is a process of negotiation in which powerful actors try to select from plural options of rules and regulations (institution shopping). This process leads to distributional effects and an adapted social, political, and/or economic behavior [33]. Political ecology, on the other hand, “deals with crucial views on environmental degradation discourses and materialities” [23] (p. 92). The focus lies on why land managers degrade environments, thereby incorporating processes of politics and power (asymmetries). PE in NIPE adds a power analysis to each step of Ensminger’s model: Under what conditions of power did external change come into being? Through whom and based on which power relations did the relative prices change? Who has the material and discursive power to choose which institutions and ideology to mobilize organizations? On what ontological power are such discursive selections of institutions rooted? NIPE’s strength lies in its systematic approach provided through NI and its strong power analysis provided by PE. It furthermore incorporates explicable historical changes triggered by colonialism and capitalism and discusses how the value of CPRs has changed and is internally negotiated and distributed. Its explicit reference to common-pool resources lends it analytical acuity, especially from the point of view that “commons are those goods that depict a high degree of subtractability of use and a high difficulty of excluding potential beneficiaries” [25] (p. 10) (in reference to Elinor Ostrom and her colleagues).

Commoning theorists, on the other hand, explicitly criticize the institutional commons approach for its limitation to common-pool resources [24,26]. Commoning approaches are also focusing on non-material commons in cultural (e.g., language), social (e.g., education, health), and knowledge-based (e.g., scientific, indigenous, technical) domains [26]. While the rules of subtractability and excludability apply to biophysical commons, they do not apply to immaterial commons: they generally do not have exclusion rules and are not overused but benefit when used more often. Scholars have introduced the concept of commoning to overcome the distinction between material and immaterial commons [24]. The focus of commoning lies on relational aspects: “In this way, the commons is not a static community that exists a priori or a society to come a posteriori but something that is only ever constituted through acting and doing in common” [24] (p. 96). This means that commons do not exist a priori based on an ownership framework but are created through commoning activities. Therefore, something becomes a commons only when people engage with it primarily through commoning [25]. However, this does not contradict a NIPE framework, as commoning focuses on the practices that constitute commons. At the same time, NIPE analyzes the drivers of transformation processes affecting commons, as well as the resources underlying them.

However, the criticism of institutional CPR work by commoning researchers is more profound. Neera Singh, in line with Patrick Bresnihan [24], argues that “working on the same methodological individualist assumptions of the neoliberal economy that it critiques, it assumes that without proper rules, incentives, and sanctions, individuals will degrade and ultimately destroy common resources” [28] (p. 752). However, the above-proposed NIPE approach does not make claims to implement proper property rules but provides a tool for systematically investigating institutional change.

On the other hand, the commoning literature lacks a thorough analysis of power. In their insightful definition, Gibson-Graham, Cameron, and Healy propose to view “commoning as a relational process—or more often a struggle—of negotiating access, use, benefit, care, and responsibility […]. Commoning thus involves establishing rules or protocols for access and use, taking care of and accepting responsibility for a resource, and distributing the benefits in ways that take into account the well-being of others.” [26] (p. 195). This internally coherent definition will be employed in the following chapter to analyze commoning processes. Moreover, this definition provides a framework for examining power dynamics, as it suggests that commoning is often a contested process in which questions of access, allocation of benefits, usage practices, and care responsibilities must be actively negotiated. However, discussions of power dynamics remain underdeveloped in the commoning literature. Noterman likewise takes a step in the direction of a power analysis with his framework of differential commoning, arguing that “individual commoners engage with shared resources and each other in differing ways and to varying degrees” [27] (p. 4). Yet, this perspective offers limited interpretative depth, as it merely acknowledges that participation in commoning occurs at different levels, suggesting that some individuals hold more power than others.

On the other hand, one of the key strengths of the commoning literature is its focus on activities such as care. Care in commoning literature is most often defined as “a species activity that includes everything that we do to maintain, continue, and repair our world…that world includes our bodies, ourselves, and our environment, all of which we seek to interweave in a complex, life-sustaining web” [34] (p. 40). Care is considered to be a central practice in sustaining the commons as well as “cultivating commoner subjectivities” [35] (p. 532). Maake Masango’s definition of an African concept of care leads in a similar direction. He argues that “the African concept of caring involves all the members of the village or community, family, relatives, tribe, and ancestors” [36] (p. 916). It stands in line with a non-naturalist ontology where no divide between nature and culture is made [30] and is visible in various African philosophies and ethics such as Ubuntu [36].

In summary, both theoretical approaches offer strengths that can be utilized in this study. NIPE provides a comprehensive framework for making power dynamics visible and identifying and analyzing external factors driving change. This is crucial for understanding processes of colonialism and capitalism, along with their impacts on commoning practices and the commons. Commoning, on the other hand, allows for focusing on practices that establish the commons, thereby shedding light on why individuals engage in these processes in the first place [28] and continue to do so. By focusing on access, use, benefit, care, and responsibility, a commoning-centered analysis can incorporate the external factors driving change, ontology, and power dynamics emphasized by NIPE.

3. Methodology

This study was conducted in the Casamance region, specifically around the town of Oussouye in southern Senegal, in the so-translated kingdom Bubajum Áyii [21]. It is an ensemble of 16 villages and exists next to the state apparatus [21,37]. It is not a kingdom in the Western sense but rather a plurality of overlapping politico-religious spheres of influence, understood both topologically and hierarchically [38]. The áyii of Bubajum Áyii is no absolute monarch but has several functions. He is the high priest of the Jola religion, where he, among other things, oversees many of the spirit shrines that function as a regional integration and establish the connection to the spiritual world. Furthermore, he is responsible for several initiations, also associated with the spirit shrines. In case of disputes over family and land issues, he acts as judge, and he can change the holy laws. In an economic sense, he is responsible for the rice of his population [21,22]. The Casamance landscape is known for its Bolongs—tidal creeks that weave through mangrove forests—as well as for its fertile land and long-standing landscape of rice cultivation [39,40].

Fieldwork took place over three months in total, spanning January to March as well as December 2023. During this period, the author lived with two different families in the villages of Edioungou and Oussouye. In Edioungou, accommodation was arranged with a Catholic family consisting of a rice-growing mother and her school-teaching children, while in Oussouye, lodging was provided by the first wife of the áyii. The research was conducted at the beginning of the dry season, which coincides with the rice harvest period. Active participation in the rice harvest took place on communal fields in the villages of Oussouye and Kahinda. This involvement provided direct engagement with local agricultural practices and offered the opportunity to observe community dynamics related to collective labor.

The primary research methods employed were participant observation and semi-structured interviews [41,42,43,44]. The first phase of participant observation served as an exploratory approach, facilitating familiarity with the field site and the establishment of trustful relationships with local actors [43]. This phase also involved learning the basics of Jola-Kasa, local norms, customs, and social dynamics through firsthand experience. However, unlike in many exploratory studies, the research topic had already been clearly defined prior to fieldwork, meaning that the identification of thematic complexes was not a primary goal. This was due to the matter that the project formed part of the SNF-Synergia project Foodways in West Africa [45]. Nonetheless, the first phase facilitated the establishment of connections with individuals involved in the collective system and provided insight into the significance of these fields in various locations. Participant observation was crucial in this study, as the topic of food assistance is rarely discussed openly. Individuals globally often feel ashamed if they lack resources and need to seek help, making assistance a highly discreet practice [46]. Especially among the Jola, requests for help are made in confidence to trusted individuals and discussing them with third parties is discouraged. Given these sensitivities, relying only on interview methods would not have been sufficient to capture the nuanced ways in which assistance is sought and provided. Through prolonged immersion, a deeper understanding of social interactions was gained, going beyond what could be articulated in formal interviews. Living within families in the field was also crucial for building trustful relationships, as people would often downplay the situation surrounding rice cultivation when they did not know me well. Furthermore, participant observation was essential because interviews alone would not have reflected how people in the field acquire information and learn. Instead of asking questions and providing answers, learning happens primarily through observation and adaptation, a characteristic also noted by other researchers [14,47]. This suggests that individuals were less familiar with the question-and-answer format, resulting in responses that tended to lack depth that was nonetheless provided when people talked naturally on their own terms without being asked questions. The approach of participant observation enabled the incorporation of a decolonial research method by engaging in a local form of communication, despite the absence of proficiency in the Jola-Kasa language [48].

During the day, data was collected and recorded through field notes using a note-taking app on the phone. These brief notes were expanded in the evening into daily entries in a research journal, which served both as a data source and as a tool for reflection [49]. The research journal helped to identify patterns over time and cross-check observations made in different contexts. Additionally, writing these reflections daily allowed to remain mindful of positionality and influence in the field.

Another key method involved conducting semi-structured biographical interviews [44]. Participants were selected either because they held a position within the Huyinum system or because of closer personal relationships. Establishing prior relationships with participants proved essential, as responses from unfamiliar individuals tended to be superficial. However, this insight became particularly evident post-fieldwork. Interviews were conducted in participants’ homes, often with multiple people present, who occasionally contributed to the discussion. The presence of others did not appear to significantly affect the depth of responses. For approximately half of the interviews, a translator was required, while the remainder were conducted in French. Working with translators presented both challenges and benefits. While some nuances may have been lost in translation, the use of local translators ensured that participants felt comfortable during the interviews. Moreover, the translators functioned as gatekeepers in certain instances.

The data analysis followed an inductive approach in line with grounded theory (Silverman 2014, [50] (pp. 110–134)). Transcription of interviews began in the field, allowing for the clarification of aspects that were not fully understood during initial conversations or that appeared contradictory. This iterative process was crucial in refining the understanding of key themes and in adapting subsequent data collection efforts accordingly. Upon returning home, data analysis proceeded with open coding to identify relevant themes, followed by the application of more focused coding techniques [41]. Through this iterative and reflexive coding process, patterns were identified that informed the direction of further inquiry during the second field trip.

James Clifford asserts that ethnographic work always constitutes partial truths, meaning that no study can fully capture or reproduce a social phenomenon [51]. Additionally, Abu-Lughod emphasizes that these truths are also situated [52]. Even as a researcher without prior connections to the field, the research process remains embedded within a political and historical context, influencing which aspects of the field receive attention. Recognizing these limitations, the research was approached with reflexivity, constantly evaluating the role and interactions to ensure a more nuanced ethnographic account.

4. Results

4.1. Commoning Practices of the Present-Day Huyinum

In this section, contemporary commoning practices in the collective rice fields will be examined through a lens of access, use, benefit, care, and responsibility—dimensions identified by Gibson-Graham, Cameron, and Healy as core “ways of commoning” [26] (p. 197)—and at the same time, institutional elements by NIPE will be highlighted. This analysis offers a normative snapshot of the present moment, setting aside for now the historical dynamics that have rendered vulnerable these practices over time. These broader transformations will be explored in the following chapter.

The fields are located in three villages of Bubajum Áyii, the “kingdom”, that share the same religious practices called Esusaan3 [53]. It is also the inhabitants of these villages that primarily take care of the tasks on the fields when an áyii is enthroned. The work is divided along gender lines: men are responsible for clearing the fields as well as for the plowing and for the dam construction work, while women prepare the seedlings and transplant them, manure the fields, harvest the rice, and transport it to the granary. Furthermore, women will cook for the workers. Menstruating women are not allowed to work in the field. While the Jola inhabitants of these villages are primarily responsible for the work on the fields, residents from other villages within Bubajum Áyii may also assist with the tasks when requested. The atmosphere while working is marked by a lively and convivial spirit. Social interaction such as joking, casual conversation, and moments of friendly competition often accompanies the labor, infusing the work with a sense of collective engagement and playfulness. People with a religious occupation (who oversee a specific spirit shrine) are responsible for informing the commoners when work is scheduled. These people will be informed by the áyii, and they in turn inform their extended family. The men that convey information in the villages where the Huyinum is to be found are holders of the principal spirit shrine called Élenkiin [37]. The intersection of those people with a political-religious role as information agents indicates, as discussed by Steve Lansing in the context of the Balinese rice irrigation [54], that agriculture is not to be separated from other spheres of society. Those people in charge of a spirit shrine hold—despite being a more or less egalitarian society—more power and thereby are more listened to by the inhabitants.

While people generally agreed on how production is organized, the matter looked different for how distribution occurs. Broadly speaking, a person in need can ask the áyii for help. Usually, it is in the hands of the women to manage the rice granary, and therefore it is also her task to ask for nutritional help if she remarks that she does not have enough supply. She would therefore make a demand to the áyii. From here on, different versions exist of how help is provided. One frequently told mechanism is that of fetching the rice at night at the front door of the granary:

It is his ‘Majesty’ (áyii) who instructs the princes and princesses to fill the basket. It is they who will fill the baskets as instructed. Then, at night, the solicitor will come to take the rice, and no one will know who came or who left with the rice, as it is strictly forbidden to know. In the morning, the basket will be put away, and that’s it (first wife of the áyii, around 45 years old, living in Oussouye. Excerpt from an interview conducted in February 2023).

Rice must be requested and distributed with great discretion—hence the distribution takes place at night. No one is allowed to say or see who received rice, and if someone sees another person receiving it, they are expected to remain silent. This system of discretion allows individuals to maintain a life of dignity, even when they lack the most basic necessities. It represents a form of care, as it allows those affected by (temporary) poverty to maintain their dignity by preventing them from having to beg on the streets, thus avoiding the need to openly reveal their most pressing need: the rice they lack. As all research interlocutors agreed, everyone who does not have enough to eat can ask for this rice. It does not matter what religion someone pursues, which ethnic group one belongs to, what color the skin is, or where one has grown up or lives. In addition to providing assistance to those who do not have enough to eat, the rice is also used for events or ceremonies (Húmabal and Kule) organized by the áyii. As he is responsible for the rice of the population, he is not only accountable for the Huyinum that enables him to distribute rice but also for festivities where he, among other things, ensures the prosperity and fertility of the harvest [37]. This once again highlights the connection between agricultural production and religion.

As previously discussed, theorists of commoning critique the strong emphasis on collective ownership found in institutional commons studies. They argue that commons can emerge under any form of property regime and are not, in themselves, a specific form of ownership [24,26]. The case study does not dispute this assertion; rather, it contends that collective ownership prevailed during pre-colonial times and that local actors continue to assert claims to common property. Under post-colonial rule, the fields are situated on land that is categorized by the state as state property, with a usage right for the peasants [55,56]. However, this state-centric perspective does not align with the perception of the people around the region of Oussouye that is grounded in pre-colonial practices. In everyday language, the fields are commonly referred to as the áyii’s fields. However, as people stressed, they actually belong—at least in the cases of Oussouye and Oukout—to various families who have made them available to the áyii for an indefinite period. These families are known as Katahuyinum, the owners of the Huyinum. Despite this ownership, they are not permitted to use the fields on any occasion. Ownership is symbolically transferred by the families during the enthronement of a new áyii, thus ensuring that the sense of ownership prevails. It is therefore true that common regimes evolve on different kinds of official, state-infused property arrangements. Yet, this does not mean that prior to colonial rules, there had been no sense of ownership. Not being in proper ownership of one’s grounds or not having a legal backing of the usage right also renders people vulnerable to land grabbing processes, as the land formally belongs to the state, which may apply to register the land for the purposes of operations declared to be of public interest [56].

4.2. Pressure from Powerful Post-Colonial Entanglements and Ontologies

The accounts given in the previous chapter reflect a rather static portrayal, as they do not consider external factors driving change, nor do they engage with questions of power and ontology. This chapter therefore seeks to explore these dimensions in greater depth. The following statement effectively summarizes the cause of the existing problems:

It’s different now. If you tell people to go for the áyii’s harvest, few of them will go. But in the past, that was not the case (Women responsible for the spirit shrine “Houbéne” in secondary position and thereby responsible for informing the women of Oussouye to conduct work in the collective fields, around 40 years old, living in Oussouye. Excerpt from an interview conducted in December 2023).

This statement is also consistent with my field observations. When I assisted in the harvest in Oussouye, there was a shortage of women available to assist with the harvest. As a result, younger men participated using an adapted technique: instead of the small knives usually used by women, they used sickles, which allows for faster harvesting but negatively affects the longevity of the rice. In Kahinda, the issue arose already earlier in the agricultural cycle, during the preparation of the fields. The area of the Huyinum in Kahinda is relatively large compared to the smaller population, and there was a lack of male labor to prepare the fields during the rainy season. Additionally, the dikes are no longer adequately maintained, leading to salinization of the fields due to the intrusion of saltwater from the nearby river. Whenever I asked why people did not participate in the collective work as earlier, interviewees often stated that it was up to each person to deal with their own conscience regarding their lack of contribution.

Scholars have long noted a labor shortage in the rice fields. While some explanations point to reduced rainfall since the 1960s as a cause for migration to cities and thereby a lack of workforce in the villages, Martin Evans [29] and Camille Ollier [14] argue that this view oversimplifies the issue. They emphasize that migration for work is a longstanding practice, even predating environmental changes. Both men and women, aged 20 to 40, seasonally migrate(d) to cities like Dakar or coastal tourist areas for various jobs, sending remittances back to the village. They would come back for the periods of agricultural tasks such as preparing the fields or harvest. However, environmental changes have complicated this, as the study of Ollier has shown. The rainy season now starts later and ends earlier, forcing faster, more intense work in a shorter time frame. Furthermore, the certainty of rainfall has become less reliable. These environmental changes, combined with the financial burden of travel, prevent many men from returning home to prepare the fields for the new agricultural cycle [14].

This analysis builds on data collected on private fields that are cultivated by families. As people recounted, in the past, the Huyinum was cultivated first. Only when people had worked in the Huyinum were they allowed to start with their own fields. The communal fields thus served in the past as a means to structure the work processes on the other fields, and at the same time a penalty mechanism was installed for those that did not help. Today, this mechanism is no longer in place, and peasants prefer to labor in their private fields first, also to gain a harvest that is needed to undertake the initiation rites. Given the existing labor shortages in the private fields, the situation is even more critical in the collective fields, where participation is even lower. While it has become more difficult today to reconcile migration with agricultural labor, this is not the sole reason for the decline in rice cultivation, as this study argues. Some interviewees who provided an explanation why many people did not work in the Huyinum argued that women nowadays had la paresse, meaning that they were too lazy to undertake the hard work on the rice paddies. Others also drew attention to the matter that women had other liabilities, such as having to work for money, which would render it difficult for them to work voluntarily for no salary. Another aspect that was put forward is that people would not participate unless the catering was adequate. More generally, conversations with younger people in the field revealed that many did not envision their future in rice cultivation, as they were reluctant to engage in physically demanding labor like their parents and struggled to understand the rationale behind such work nowadays. These processes can be understood with the concept of deagrarization provided by Deborah Bryceson [57]. “Deagrarianization is defined as a long-term process of occupational adjustment, income-earning reorientation, social identification, and spatial relocation of rural dwellers away from strictly agricultural-based modes of livelihood” [57] (p. 726). According to her, the economic rigor of structural adjustment programs led to an increase in daily financial requirements, whereas the returns from peasants’ commercial agriculture became less predictable. In the case of the Jola around the village of Oussouye, people never relied on an agricultural income, as it is not allowed until today to sell the self-grown rice. Since the introduction of a cash-based economy, they have relied on employment outside of agriculture to meet their financial needs. However, the financial expenses have expanded during the last decades. One major cost is school fees, which was during fieldwork in Edioungou CFA 20,000 per month and child. In addition, there is increasing expenditure on food; as fewer people cultivate their own rice, they are forced to purchase more, deepening their economic vulnerability in a kind of vicious cycle. Furthermore, access to running water and electricity, along with spending on clothing, hygiene products, healthcare, and consumer goods such as phones and TVs, represents a substantial portion of household budgets. Another aspect is that deagrarianization primarily targets economic practices rooted in neoliberal traditions and structural adjustment programs, and the statements of research participants reflect different aspirations for their lives than their parents had. Another important aspect is the increasing commodification of practices and items that were previously not embedded in a cash economy. For example, during funerals, individuals of a certain age and social standing are expected to distribute cloth, which represents a considerable financial burden for them. Likewise, religious prayers and rituals often involve monetary expenses, such as the purchase of palm wine required for prayers. These developments evoke what Georg Elwert referred to as venality, highlighting the commodification of social relations that increases cash demands [58,59].

Underlying these changes are conflicting ontologies: on the one hand, Western naturalism, which underpins neoliberal logics, the imperative to earn money, and the rise of a more individualized society; on the other hand, a non-naturalistic ontology grounded in communal well-being and an emphasis on the more-than-human world. This tension gives rise to ontological pluralism and insecurity, as described by Wilhelm-Solomon, Kankonde Bukasa, and Núñez [31]. As the focus shifts increasingly toward income generation, driven by economic necessities and changing value orientations, forms of labor that do not yield monetary gain, such as the collective care of rice fields, tend to receive less attention and recognition. Thereby, although people are not affected by large-scale land acquisition or commons grabbing processes and/or are not directly drawn into the cultivation of capitalist cash crops (even though this has been the case, particularly in the northern part of the Casamance, where peanut farming was introduced during colonial occupation and continues until today; see, among others [15]), capitalist processes, rooted in a naturalist ontology, have nonetheless transformed people’s lives and moral frameworks. This results in the matter that fewer people participate in the work on the fields, and thereby, care for the fields is less frequently practiced.

4.3. Evolved Commoning Practices

As demonstrated, it is not only private fields that are under pressure, but also collective fields intended to provide food for the most vulnerable. As one research participant explained:

Today, much of the rice that is distributed is bought. It comes from the shop. It’s imported rice (treasurer of the association Servir Bubajum Áyii, man, around 40 years old, living in Oussouye).

Not only due to a less abundant harvest, but also because the population has grown and because people need money to undertake activities, the rice of the Huyinum has not been sufficient enough to care for the population, as is the task of the áyii. Therefore, people decided collectively at the legislative space of Bubajum Áyii, called Húnii, to expand the ways of providing assistance. This process resembles bottom-up institution-building processes described by Haller et al. [60], although in this case, no external, neutral platform was needed as pre-colonial institutions are still intact. Following this decision, Servir Bubajum Áyii was established. Its main goal is to secure funding both from within and outside the Jola community to support people in need. The money is utilized for both immediate food aid and community-benefiting projects such as agricultural initiatives (e.g., solar-powered irrigation pumps) or the support of small local restaurants. Servir Bubajum Áyii is assisted by a network of volunteer helpers. While the association began informally as a group, the people are now in the process of formalizing its structure to become an official organization, aiming to gain trust also from external partners, where traditional titles do not inspire confidence among funders. It is the first queen (called asékéne) that takes on the leading role in this association. In this role, she frequently travels to build networks and secure funding, engages in phone calls and negotiations with various partners, listens to the concerns and problems of community members, and strives to support them. Her commitment knows no fixed working hours, and she remains accessible even in the middle of the night.

This shift from the áyii (Huyinum) to asékéne (Servir Bubajum Áyii) is largely due to the matter that the áyii has a clearly defined role that restricts activities related to fundraising—dealing with cash—such as traveling outside the kingdom or eating in public. The asékéne, on the other hand, has greater flexibility—she is able to adapt her role more freely than the áyii. However, she enjoys the same level of trust as the áyii in this issue. This is because, just like the áyii, she also does not have private ownership. This means that everything given to her must be redistributed by her.

5. Discussion

The commons of the Huyinum consist of collectively cultivated rice fields that nourish those in need and provide food for guests during the áyii’s festivities. These fields are primarily maintained by inhabitants of the Esusaan villages (Oussouye, Kahinda, and Oukout), but other villages within the kingdom may also contribute to the workforce when needed. Rice can be requested from the áyii and is distributed to those in need in the most discreet manner possible to protect their dignity. Although no large-scale land-grabbing processes have occurred, the commons are under increasing pressure. As the analysis through New Institutional Political Ecology has shown, the pressure stems from a mixture of external factors: First, climate change, which has altered the seasonal timing of rainfall and thus disrupted the agricultural labor calendar, making it difficult for men to reconcile fieldwork with income-generating employment in the cities. Second, a broader process of deagrarianization is underway, as people shift their focus toward earning monetary income due to structural pressures. Third, social relations are becoming more and more commodified. Underlying these external factors is the powerful ontology of naturalism that infuses daily life, competing with the longstanding non-naturalist ontology that people still value.

As this study demonstrates, the NIPE-perspective is effectively complemented by insights from commoning, particularly through its focus on everyday practices such as care. While this study placed less emphasis on the internal dimensions of the NIPE model—particularly ideology, bargaining power, and organization—due in part to the absence of a major openly led conflict, the application of commoning approaches provided valuable insights into the practices through which the commons are sustained. Interestingly, several of these aspects of commoning align with the “institutions” dimension within the NIPE framework, particularly concerning questions of access, use, benefit, and responsibility. Interpreted through the lens of commoning [26], it becomes evident that both commons-based systems, the Huyinum and Servir Bubajum Áyii, share core principles, as illustrated in

Table 1. Comparison of Huyinum and Servir Bubajum Áyii.

	Huyinum	Servir Bubajum Áyii
Access	Access to the fields broadly shared, restricted for menstruating women. Rice is broadly shared when people know how to ask for help.	Money is broadly shared when people know how to ask for help.
Use	Managed by people with religious occupation, especially Élenkiine owners and the áyii.	Managed by one asékéne and a cashier.
Benefit	Rice benefits anyone who asks.	Money benefits anyone who asks.
Care	Performed mainly by the Esusaan-population and spirit shrine holders. Collective commitment to discretion.	Performed mainly by one asékéne and the voluntary workers. Collective commitment to discretion.
Responsibility	Assumed mainly by spirit shrine holders but also everyone who helps.	Assumed mainly by an asékéne but also voluntary workers.

. Access to the Huyinum fields is broadly inclusive but not entirely unrestricted. For instance, menstruating women are excluded. In both systems, resources—whether rice or money—are widely shared, although recipients must understand the norms around requesting support. The use and management of the Huyinum is primarily overseen by individuals in religious roles, particularly Élenkiine owners and the áyii. By contrast, Servir Bubajum Áyii is managed by an asékéne and a treasurer. This shift in responsibility from áyii to asékéne stems in part from the áyii’s strictly defined role within a non-naturalistic ontology, which restricts him from public fundraising activities such as traveling outside the kingdom or eating in public. The benefits derived from both systems are intended to serve the broader community as they maintain the food commons system and adapt it to the capitalist impacts. In the case of financial support provided through Servir Bubajum Áyii for small businesses, the underlying aim is that these ventures will, in turn, benefit the community and create incentives for them to stay in the countryside. Care work is primarily performed by community members. For the Huyinum, this responsibility mainly falls on Jola inhabitants of the Esusaan villages, who maintain the communal fields. In the case of Servir Bubajum Áyii, the asékéne shoulders most of the work, often remaining occupied throughout the day, while volunteers are primarily tasked with distributing assistance discreetly. Within the Huyinum, religious figures bear a disproportionate share of responsibility, as others can more easily withdraw from their obligations. The áyii holds a particularly central role, as he is accountable for ensuring the community’s rice supply and performs rituals intended to secure agricultural fertility. Similarly, within Servir Bubajum Áyii, responsibility is unequally distributed, with the asékéne carrying the bulk of the work through her ongoing fundraising and logistical coordination efforts.

One key shift from the Huyinum system to Servir Bubajum Áyii is the declining involvement of residents from the Esusaan villages in commoning activities. In the Huyinum, their participation is essential; without their labor, the collective rice fields cannot be cultivated. This is most clearly seen in Kahinda, where not all fields are maintained. The diminishing influence of individuals with religious roles, among other things responsible for mobilizing community labor, suggests a potential loss of authority. However, as these figures noted, while they can no longer effectively convene people for collective agricultural work, they continue to be approached for spiritual services such as offering prayers. This reflects a shift in community dynamics: while individuals may no longer contribute to collective efforts (e.g., rice cultivation) as they once did, they still expect to receive support from religious figures through prayers, rice, or financial aid. This imbalance coincides with the gradual adoption of more individualistic values, associated with a naturalistic ontology, which emphasizes personal over collective well-being. Importantly, this shift may not be intentional or fully conscious; somewhat, it is likely shaped by structural pressures, such as the increasing need (and willingness) to earn cash to cover needs, which in turn constrains people’s capacity to engage in communal labor and, by extension, to enact practices of care. However, the collective rice farming system continues to persist despite external pressures stemming from capitalism leading to deagrarization, which has led to a shortage of helpers within the rice cultivation system. This resilience is due to its embeddedness within a commoning system that remains valued and constitutive of common property. Moreover, innovative rule-making processes have emerged that counter the naturalistic ontology by establishing a new support mechanism grounded in its principles, while simultaneously respecting values of the naturalistic and non-naturalistic ontologies. In this way, care continues to be provided under the condition of discretion and through the involvement of a socially significant figure embedded within the non-naturalist ontology, namely the áyii’s wife. Through Servir Bubajum Áyii, future efforts aim to support the labor involved in Huyinum by providing financial resources to ensure food for those working in the fields.

6. Conclusions

The practices of commoning in the collective rice fields have undergone change under the influence of external factors shaped by a naturalist ontology. At the same time, certain aspects have remained consistent. Labor shortages in the rice fields, for instance, stem partly from the need for individuals to engage in other, paid forms of work, influenced by external pressures and a naturalistic ontology. In the newly established support system Servir Bubajum Áyii, the population of the Esusaan villages plays a less active role. Furthermore, the management of the resource, formerly overseen by the áyii with the assistance of individuals in religious roles, has shifted to the asékéne and a treasurer. Nevertheless, a comparison of commoning principles [26] shows that many aspects of the new support system remain similar to those of the Huyinum. This is particularly evident in the continued open access to the resource, as well as in the fact that the institution remains managed by members of the royal family. Likewise, the practice of care—carried out with an unwavering commitment to absolute discretion—has endured.

NIPE, when complemented by a commoning framework, has proven to be a valuable conceptual approach for analyzing social security systems grounded in CPRs. Given the limited research on CPR-based social security, future studies should examine comparable systems in different contexts. This would help establish analytical comparability while highlighting multiple forms of social security arrangements [3]. While this study has drawn attention to the central role of the asékéne in the functioning of Servir Bubajum Áyii, the broader analysis of gender roles remains limited. This is partly because existing research has not foregrounded gender in this context, and the available ethnographic material does not allow for a more in-depth examination of its historical dimensions. Nonetheless, the findings suggest that gendered forms of labor and responsibility are significant and merit closer investigation. Future research should therefore pay greater attention to the gendered dynamics within commons-based social security systems. Finally, this article highlights long-standing social security systems in Africa, challenging dominant narratives that portray the continent as a “figure of lack” [1]. As this study shows, communities have historically developed systems of mutual support grounded in collective care work, assisting individuals in times of need. The Huyinum system has endured despite structural disruptions caused by (post)colonial interventions and the spread of a naturalist ontology, though it now faces increasing pressure. Contrary to prevailing assumptions of passivity or dependency, local actors have recognized these challenges and, through the creation of Servir Bubajum Áyii, have established new forms of solidarity and support that respond to contemporary realities, beyond the scope of formal state provision. This study illustrates that social welfare cannot—and should not—be understood solely through Eurocentric, state-centered frameworks. In addition to state institutions or humanitarian organizations operating in African contexts, community-based systems play a crucial role. As a collectively organized resource, land remains central to these grassroots safety nets. Unlike international aid organizations, local actors are well positioned to respond to the population’s specific needs—for instance, by ensuring discretion in the distribution of support and by fostering a model of unconditional solidarity. In such systems, assistance is available to all individuals, regardless of ethnicity, religion, nationality, or legal status.