In the rain-soaked hills of Basque Country, Spain, a factory worker casting engine parts earns no less than one-sixth of what the highest-paid manager takes home — and that manager was elected by the very workers on the shop floor. Meanwhile, in Kalol, Gujarat, a marginal farmer holding two bighas of land collects his subsidised bag of Nano Urea from the local society, blissfully unaware that his purchase traces back to one of the world’s largest fertiliser cooperatives headquartered over a thousand kilometres away in New Delhi. Two cooperatives. Two continents. Two radically different answers to the same question: can ordinary people govern an enterprise worth billions?
I have spent years covering India’s cooperative sector for IICTF, and no comparison sharpens the ideological fault lines of the movement quite like placing Mondragón Corporation beside IFFCO (Indian Farmers Fertiliser Cooperative Limited). One has no CEO and lets workers vote on salaries. The other has a Managing Director, a government-linked board, and serves over 35,000 member cooperatives across India. Both are wildly successful. Both claim the cooperative identity. Yet their DNA could not be more different.
