15 May

The Tyranny of Trifles

Posted by vramani in irony, public affairs.

In his interesting book on his travels from Turkey to Pakistan, “Stranger to History”, Aatish Taseer has devoted one chapter titled “The Tyranny of Trifles” to the ways in which authoritarian regimes seek to maintain their hold on power. As he puts it “The emphasis on trifles, and the hypocrisies that came with it, had been institutionalised, turned into a form of control over the people…” This is not surprising in many countries to the west of India’s borders, where theocracies and terrorism have sought, with varying degrees of success, to impose their writ on the populace at large. It is far more surprising, not to say disturbing, when this obsession with trivia lodges itself in as vibrant and chaotic a democracy as India. And yet, events in India, in recent months and years, point in the direction of attempts to establish a monolithic society, through use of different instruments of the state and society.

Actually, this trend towards straight jacketing thought and action has its roots in historical events. We can hardly forget the treatment meted out to the celebrated artist, M. F. Husain, for his pictorial depictions of Hindu goddesses, leading to his flight from India and eventual death in exile. The longstanding prohibition regime in Gujarat state has exposed the hypocrisies of state action: if people want to drink, they can gain access to bootlegged liquor, often of the lethal variety. The only ones laughing all the way to the bank are the liquor suppliers and the arms of the state machinery in league with them.

But it is the recent efforts to dictate what the individual citizen should see, read, study, eat and create (through the written or visual medium) that give cause for concern about the encroachment on the freedoms guaranteed to each and every individual by the Indian Constitution. Let us first take the unsavoury furore over the screening of the documentary “India’s Daughter”. To display its masculine might, the Government of India applied its not-so-sensitive suasive powers to black out the documentary from social media. The law of unintended consequences kicked in here with a multiplier effect: the uproar drew public attention and led to probably a thousand fold or more increase in the number of Indians who, through one method or the other, viewed the documentary. A similar phenomenon was witnessed when, probably exhausted by a protracted court battle and recognising the harsh reality of a supportive social and political environment, a leading publishing house pulped the works on Hinduism of the scholar Wendy Doniger. To be honest, I, and probably 99.999% of all Indians, had never heard of her till the controversy blew up in public. The result: many more Indians, out of sheer curiosity if nothing else, acquired her books (till they were available) or googled to read more about her. Doniger should be grateful for the free publicity undertaken for her by obscurantist groups determined that only a particular view on the myths and legends of India should prevail.

The efforts to impose a particular world view on the educational system are part and parcel of this attempt at social engineering. We have already gone through the tamasha of the meaningless replacement of German by Sanskrit in the Kendriya Vidyalaya curriculum. As I observed in an earlier blog, this will neither help the students nor serve the cause of Sanskrit. Students will merely do what is required to secure good marks and forget about this language thereafter. To think that this step will promote Sanskrit scholarship in India is akin to chasing a mirage. The same argument applies to Yoga as well: Yoga goes far beyond mere physical training and involves complete development of the individual. Imposing it on school students, many of whom are unaware of and possibly also unwilling to follow its discipline will only devalue one of India’s major contributions to the world. Then again, the teaching of the Bhagavad Gita in schools represents a very unidimensional approach to promoting ethical values and the spirit of pluralism that characterises a multicultural society. There is no recognition of the lessons that other religions can contribute to the development of a tolerant, compassionate human character. Within the Hindu religion itself, there is no one accepted book; some follow the Upanishads, others the works of revered saints and seers, like the Thirukkural and the Ashtavakra Samhita, while many others follow oral traditions without reliance on any one book or treatise. Ditto for the efforts to rewrite history with a northern, Hindu perspective intended to eulogise India’s “glorious” past. Short shrift is given to Ashoka and Kanishka and the spread of Buddhism, the promotion of religious syncretism by enlightened rulers like Akbar and the magnificent kingdoms of the Chalukya and Vijayanagara empires in South India; revanchist history would have it that Hindu greatness died in the ninth or tenth century CE, never mind that the Vijayanagara kingdom fell only in 1565 CE.

My karmabhumi Maharashtra has not lagged behind in this obsession with trivia. We had policing of public morals in Mumbai with the ban on bar girls; not to be outdone by the previous government, the present one has intervened in the eating and entertainment habits of citizens. An almost two-decade old state legislation banning slaughter of bulls and bullocks was dusted off and given sanction recently by the central government, run by the same political party that did not see fit to give approval to this legislation when it was in power for six years at the turn of this century. Incomes and livelihoods of thousands of farmers, butchers and traders have been imperilled by this move, with grave consequences for social harmony. The law of unintended consequences (referred to earlier) will kick in here, with enormous rent-seeking powers being placed in the hands of the enforcement machinery in the police and municipalities. The compulsion on multiplexes in Mumbai to show Marathi movies in the primetime slot, since modified to a slot in the matinee and evening period, will benefit neither the multiplexes nor Marathi movies, if multiplexes run to poor audiences. How to make the Marathi film industry more robust and in tune with public tastes (a la Tamil cinema, never mind the quality) may yield better financial dividends for all concerned.

But it is in the arena of religion that one witnesses the greatest attempt at trivialisation of what ought to be one of humankind’s deepest experiences. The ghar vapsi (homecoming) campaign of some hard-line majority community groups has sought to make a big issue out of conversion of people born in the Hindu faith to other religions. Ignoring the fact that the Hindu religion has no provision for proselytisation, efforts are being made to reconvert people of other faiths (almost always from the lowest pecking order of Hindu society) to Hinduism. There are very serious issues of inequalities in Hindu society arising from the caste system, eloquently articulated by Dr. Ambedkar, which deserve introspection among all sections of Hindu society. Instead of focusing on what needs to be done to promote equality in Hindu society, attention is (probably deliberately) being drawn to the dangers of “minoritisation” of the majority community: yet another instance of seeking to preoccupy people’s minds with irrelevancies rather than getting them to confront (and change) uncomfortable truths.

So does all this give cause for concern? Yes, to the extent that it displays bigotry and a refusal to acknowledge the pluralistic nature of Indian society. And yet, in a chaotic, throbbing democracy like India (unlike its theocratic and autocratic confrères elsewhere), one can draw hope from a number of factors, borne out by the changes in Indian society and by recent history. India’s burgeoning middle class is irreverent in its treatment of the absurdities that too often characterise political and social discourse in India. Indeed, the foibles of political parties and “religious” outfits are grist to the mill for cartoonists, commentators and bloggers like me. With its innate capacity for jugaad, the Indian public will find ways to circumvent illogical and absurd governmental decisions. Wherever possible, the aam aadmi or aurat will blissfully ignore whatever executive fiats are hurled at her. Finally, if her patience is exhausted (which it will be if governments expend their time and energies on irrelevant issues rather than on crucial matters of governance), the Indian voter will exercise her prerogative in the exercise of her democratic rights: she will change the government without bloodshed at the next available opportunity (the most apt definition of democracy by the philosopher Karl Popper).

1 May

Who will guard the guardians?

Posted by vramani in public affairs.

Let me tell you a true story. The protagonist and the locale do not matter; this happens to the poor every day in Bharat that is India. However, to make storytelling easier, let us call our main character Sunil, a name one could encounter anywhere in India. Sunil is a migrant who runs a very small shop, polishing the meagre gold jewellery owned by the poor residents of his locality. Since this is scarcely enough to keep body and soul together, he takes on the occasional, temporary job of driving private cars and auto rickshaws — very much a member of the huge unorganised sector in India.

It all started one fine winter morning when four hefty men barged into Sunil’s small shop and forcibly bundled Sunil into a private vehicle parked outside the shop. No one knew who had taken him away or where he had been taken. His mother, frantic with worry, called his close friends, who started the search for him. Almost six hours later, they located him in a police station away from his locality, detained for questioning in a jewellery theft case. A known jewellery thief, in the custody of the same police, was present there, testifying that Sunil had acted as a fence in melting stolen gold jewellery and reselling it. The local head of Sunil’s clan, all petty jewellers, also rushed to the police station to try and secure his release.

This is where the story takes a twist. The sub-inspector of police on duty claimed that Sunil had helped in the disposal of Rs. 25 lakhs worth of stolen jewellery. He offered to drop the case if Sunil arranged for the payment of an amount of Rs. 25 lakhs. After much bargaining, the sub-inspector agreed to give Sunil a day’s time to arrange for the money. In parting, he also let drop casually that Sunil should not think of approaching any influential person to help him; in fact, he should not even try to get any legal help in his case. Else, the policeman warned, he would arrange for Sunil to be implicated in a number of theft cases, which it would take him years to wriggle out of. The message coming through loud and clear, Sunil returned to the police station the next day with the head of his local jewellers’ association to negotiate the terms for his freedom. After a daylong haggling session, the sub-inspector finally magnanimously agreed to settle the case for Rs. 75000. Sunil raised Rs. 50000 from the local moneylender for immediate payment. A delay in settling the remaining Rs. 25000 saw another visit from the police, following which Sunil moved pillar and post to square his accounts with the police. A shaken Sunil decided to close down his jewellery business and concentrate on setting up a small eatery, apart from occasional driving assignments, to feed himself and his family.

There are thousands of Sunils across the length and breadth of India who have to confront the criminal justice system on a daily basis. I refer here to the three arms of this system: the police, the jails and the courts. Even where they are not invested with special powers, the police represent a very repressive arm of the state. Small wonder, then, that most ordinary citizens give them a wide berth, notwithstanding encouraging slogans on police vans like “With you, for you, always”. Nearly all public institutions in India have a strongly extractive (and extortionist) nature: the police, with its immense powers, are only an extreme example. Once a common man enters the chakravyuha of this system courtesy a criminal case, getting out is a herculean task, especially for those with limited means and no influence. Investigations are rarely completed and charge sheets are often not filed in the prescribed 60 or 90 day period. If the unfortunate “accused” is not able to raise bail, he remains incarcerated for months (and sometimes years) on end in jails that breed criminality. The new entrant into this system is exposed to hardened criminals and, with a police record against his name, may find it easier to join their group if and when he is finally released. This may take many years, given that the wheels of justice grind so slowly in India. Paying even a hefty bribe is seen as preferable to getting entangled in the coils of this system.

So what needs to be done to ensure that Article 21 of the Constitution of India becomes a reality, rather than a dream, for the aam aadmi, with his right to life and liberty being safeguarded? While there have been a host of reports on improving the criminal justice system, some suggestions to guard the ordinary citizen against unnecessary arrest and incarceration are being given here. When the commission of a cognisable or non-cognisable offence comes to or is brought to the notice of the police, a First Information Report (FIR) should be registered online, with the Aadhaar (unique identity) of the suspect being entered; where there is no such Aadhaar number, the Aadhaar identity should be obtained within twenty four hours. The FIR will go into a database which has details of every single individual who is being arraigned before the criminal justice system. Where the individual is committed to police or judicial custody, the database will keep track of the custody period so that bail can be offered; where the individual is not in a position to arrange bail, the case should be pursued expeditiously through the investigation stage and filing of chargesheet to final disposal by the court. This is imperative since the 2012 report of the Law Commission of India has observed that over 66% of those in India’s overcrowded prisons are undertrial prisoners. A time limit should be set for conclusion of trials and for hearing of appeals on conviction or acquittal, say, one year for offences punishable with imprisonment upto three years and two years for offences punishable with imprisonment for more than seven years.

National Crime Records Bureau statistics show pendency in courts, as of end-2010, of over 12 million cognisable offences under the Indian Penal Code and other local and special laws. With the backlog of cases increasing over the years, there would be well over 15 million cognisable criminal cases pending in Indian courts as of 2015. Not only does this confirm the adage “Justice delayed is justice denied”, it also enables the wealthy and influential to subvert the processes of justice, leading to a gradual erosion of faith in the rule of law among the general public. Measures like increasing the size of police forces, establishing an independent investigative agency, improving the quality of public prosecution and speedier trials, as well as using modern technology in a range of areas from forensic investigation and digitisation of police records to videoconferencing for judicial/police remand and use of online systems to speed up judicial decisions are all welcome and will contribute to the effective delivery of justice. But, in the final analysis, it is the actors in the drama — policemen, prosecutors, jailors and judges — who will determine the quality of criminal justice. Unless there is total dedication and commitment in all these players, no amount of sophisticated technology or superior monitoring systems will make any noticeable difference. The Roman satirist Juvenal employed the term “Who will guard the guards themselves?” in his Satires in the early years of the millennium, although he used it in a different context. This concept, in the context of accountability of power, is generally ascribed to Plato’s Republic, where the main character talks of men being responsible for their own actions. This swarajya, where each citizen, but especially those entrusted with governing others, are aware of their responsibility in sustaining and nurturing a free society will, in the final analysis, determine the contours and directions of democracy in India in the coming decades.

 

 

 

 

 

15 Apr

The case for an anonymous bureaucracy

Posted by vramani in public affairs.

The controversy over the death of a young bureaucrat has stirred up a hornet’s nest: its rumblings have been felt, of course, in Bengaluru, the city where it occurred, but also as far afield as the Indian Parliament in Delhi. There is no need to analyse the causes of the suicide; this is a task far better left to the investigating agencies. What has been disquieting and disturbing is the manner in which no party has conducted itself with dignity and honour in this unfortunate episode. The media needed no urging to jump into the fray: like piranhas waiting to lacerate their prey, they conducted their own onscreen trials to fix guilt, alleging deep political conspiracies to silence an honest officer. Politicians are never ones to be left behind: they are copiously shedding crocodile tears and organising padayatras and dharnas. Government has behaved no better: the Police Commissioner of Bengaluru voiced his opinion on the reasons for the suicide when investigations were still on; the Chief Minister and Home Minister added their interpretations of the incident. Most unfortunately, the relatives, especially the parents of the young man, also descended into the fray with the demand for an investigation by the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI). The result has been a sickening voyeuristic drama, with all sorts of theories being floated around and with no concern for the truth. Fiction, rather than fact, appears to be the order of the day.
What is a real pity is that the officer concerned apparently never once raised any concerns about the reasons for his move from his earlier position or about any pressures he was facing in his current job. The publicity he never sought while alive seems to be chasing him after his unfortunate death. Now that the CBI has been entrusted with the investigation, we will hopefully be spared further divine revelations. But there is still the disquieting issue, in this day and age of mass (or is it crass?) media, namely, about the undesirable visibility that the modern-day bureaucrat attracts and its adverse impact on efficient but understated governance.
One of the reasons for this unfortunate exposure of the bureaucrat to the public gaze has been the changing ethos of the bureaucrat himself. Thirty five years ago, when I joined the bureaucracy, bureaucrats were known more for their ability to quietly but forcefully put forth their views, in writing and orally, to the political class. In the better ruled states, mature politicians listened, even if they did not always follow this advice. In other states, a transfer was the result of a fallout between the politician and the bureaucrat. But, in all cases, the bureaucrat handled the consequences quietly; there was only the print media and almost no bureaucrat would have aired his grievances in public. The onset of public interest litigation (PILs) in the 1980s saw the beginnings of the bureaucrat going public with alleged misdeeds by politicians (and bureaucrats) in connivance with powerful vested interests. Nothing wrong, you might say, to expose corruption. Except that, once bitten by this bug of public airing of views, a narcissistic streak emerged in bureaucrats, who emerged from the shadowy maze of their offices into the public limelight, especially after the electronic media revolution. This has had at least three unfortunate aspects.
The first has been the undermining of team effort. At the best of times, it is an arduous task to get all sections of the bureaucracy rowing in the same direction, except at election time. From personal experience, I can say that the process of reform of policies and institutions in government has always been a case of “two small steps forward, one huge step backward”. When a media-happy bureaucrat takes to the printed pages or the air waves, there is a huge setback to institutional morale. In recent years, media dissection has been accompanied by anti-corruption enquiries as well as a spate of PILs. Even statutory authorities like the Comptroller and Auditor General have not been immune to this epidemic: their reports are sought to be treated like judicial pronouncements rather than points of view which can be rebutted by reasoned argument. It is little wonder then that the honest but risk-taking bureaucrat fears taking decisions which could tie him up in enquiries and court appearances well into his retirement years.
It is also generally the case that maverick bureaucrats have terrible inter=personal relations with their peers, seniors and subordinates, a fact testified to by a number of my ex-colleagues who have had to work with or under them. Their self-righteous attitude to life leads them to suspect the bona fides of any one holding a contrary view. Over time, their bitterness over what they perceive as not being appreciated or understood by the system translates into attempts to undermine the system. Individuals, rather than systems and institutional arrangements, are sought to be held responsible for lapses. The “self-righteous” bureaucrat never tries to attempt institutional improvements, which need patient behind-the-scenes work and an attention to detail. In any case, meeting the media need for sensational information and training all his administrative energies on building up airtight cases against his “corrupt” colleagues and their “partners in crime” gives him little time to focus even on routine office management.
A major casualty of the bureaucrat’s hunger for publicity is the quality of the written advice given on government files, the drafting of legislation and contracts and the ability to suggest well-thought out, rational government policy that meets the twin objectives of reconciling conflicting stakeholder interests and meeting all legal and constitutional requirements. A former Finance Minister of India has recently commented on the shoddy drafting of Section 66A of the Information Technology Act, which was struck down as unconstitutional by the Indian Supreme Court. In this regard, the crusader bureaucrat has the company of the ambitious bureaucrat, who shuns dreary file work for the excitement and the privileges of prestigious field-level and public sector postings, not to mention assignments with international organisations. Forgotten is the bureaucrat’s maxim “The pen is mightier than the word” (or, in modern day parlance, the computer keyboard is mightier than the sound bite). Bureaucrats, including those from the prestigious Indian Administrative Service, no longer treasure the art of pleasing prose, a quality valued in their forbears of past generations. Even simple letters, in English and regional languages, require redrafting three or four times.
Ultimately, the greatest adverse impact is on the individual bureaucrat himself. In this era of “twenty-twenty” cricket matches, the bureaucrat ceases to think about his long-term performance and contribution to the growth of public institutions. He becomes a modern-day Don Quixote tilting at windmills. In the process, given the media attention focused on him, every single action of that individual becomes invested with the aura of a battle against vested interests. Even tactically unwise steps or breaches of institutional discipline are hailed as examples of dynamism. The bureaucrat starts to think of himself as larger than the system; when his confreres do not back him, he bemoans the lack of support from the civil service — a rather unrealistic expectation given that his actions place him on a limb where others are loath to join him. In any case, members of the civil service have their own career interests to pursue, which they will not jeopardise even for an honest colleague, who gets a raw deal when working quietly and without publicity. The tragic denouement arrives when the media loses interest in the bureaucrat’s battle: he is then left all alone, with no support. In the final analysis, the anonymous (but contented) bureaucrat is probably better off following the words of the great poet, Rabindranath Tagore “Jodi Tor Dak Shune Keu Na Ase Tobe Ekla Cholo Re” (If no one responds to your call, then go your own way alone). Or else reciting the Tamil dialogue of the iconic cine star Rajnikanth “En vazhi thanee vazhi” (My path is a lonely one).

1 Apr

Playing Eye-spy with the Petroleum Ministry: Implications for India

Posted by vramani in public affairs.

“The ship of state is the only ship that leaks from the top”: these words of Sir Humphrey Appleby in the Yes Minister series came to mind when the news broke that five people had been arrested for espionage in New Delhi’s Shastri Bhavan, home to many of the key ministries of the Government of India. That the ship has sprung a number of leaks is becoming apparent as the Power, Coal and Environment Ministries join the list of ministries from where secret information has allegedly been passed on to private companies. In the age of Edward Snowden and high-tech mechanisms for leaking secrets, it seems almost anachronistic that old-fashioned methods like photocopying are being employed to steal information. Be that as it may, the net widens daily to snare company executives and journalists, apart from the ministry moles. The action by the Delhi police followed a period of intense surveillance; there are also indications that this ‘corporate espionage’ had been going on for over a decade. At least three aspects emerge from this entire episode: (a) the implications for the Indian growth story; (b) the outdated, unchanged government processes and procedures that created the environment for what happened; and (c) the failure of the rule of law to enforce norms of ethical behaviour.

The government is patting itself on the back for detecting and taking action on what it perceives as a violation of the law. What it needs to worry about is the impact on government-industry relations, never cordial at the best of times. For the first forty years after independence, it was assumed that the public sector would drive the engine of growth. After a brief honeymoon post-1991, the government and the private sector have had what can, at best, be termed an uneasy coexistence. If commentators on the left are fond of describing the last twenty years as the era of crony capitalism, we need to remember that the forty years prior to that represent the age of crony socialism. The private sector thrived in a limited sphere, based on its proximity to the political elite. An inefficient public sector acted as the cash cow for the political elite, which disbursed contracts and jobs at will. The post-1991 years represent a lost opportunity to free the economy and the country from the stranglehold of government. Governments, both at the central and state levels, still interfere too much in business and neglect their basic tasks of building up physical and human infrastructure. The last nine months have seen a lot of promises of action, but little on the actual ground. The present “Shastrigate” episode will only worsen investor sentiment; there is already talk that bureaucrats will not directly meet industrialists. In any case, it will be a very bold bureaucrat who interacts with businessmen to understand their point of view.

A second issue relates to government procedures and processes. Things don’t seem to have changed much since my days at Shastri Bhavan twenty years ago. Despite all the hype about computerisation, the Indian government system is still very far from the digital era. With every second file being marked “secret”, Shastri Bhavan would have run out of almirahs to store these files, more so if they are to be in the safe custody of a Deputy Secretary. Getting information from the government is extremely difficult, even with the Right To Information (RTI) Act. Section 4 of the RTI Act mandates online access to a vast body of departmental information. Not one department at the central or state level has complied with this legal requirement. When getting even routine information is such a laborious task, it is hardly surprising that individuals (and companies) resort to James Bond-like tactics to procure information. If 90% of material in government archives were readily accessible, bureaucrats could attempt to keep the remaining 10% in safe custody.

Finally, there is the question of application of the rule of law. Indian legal systems are notoriously slow: “Justice delayed is justice denied”. Anti-corruption cases move even more slowly: the access to lawyers well-versed in exploiting every legal loophole ensures that the corrupt are rarely punished in a timeframe that serves as a deterrent to would-be offenders. We should count ourselves lucky if the present case reaches closure by 2035. The Lokpal Bill went through its own tortuous legislative process; as of today, more than a year after the Act came into force, there is no Lokpal in place. India still has no law in place similar to the 1977 US Foreign Corrupt Practices Act, which penalises companies for underhand dealings in obtaining or retaining business. Even a stronger anti-corruption law in India remains mired in interminable discussions amongst Amartya Sen’s “argumentative Indians”.

The cocktail of an unhealthy government-business relationship, antediluvian government processes and a sluggish rule of law does not augur well for either democracy or for sustained economic growth. Government needs to act fast in all these three areas if India is to meet the challenges of an increasingly complex global economy. Otherwise, it faces the danger of a Luddite backlash from vested interests wishing to preserve the status quo.

 

(The writer, a retired IAS officer and Shastri Bhavan veteran, comments on public affairs and policy and matters of human interest. Contact him at ramaniv@gmail.com and www. vramani.com)

15 Mar

Cry, the Beloved Country

Posted by vramani in public affairs. Tagged: , .

As an Indian, I hang my head in shame today. Just over two years after the horrific New Delhi rape, opinion makers in the national capital, New Delhi, and elsewhere have suddenly woken up to the need to protect the country’s honour. The controversy has conveniently been focused on the interview given by a convict on death row to a documentary maker. The uproar over the proposed screening of the documentary “India’ Daughter” on India’s NDTV channel led to its being shelved. A Delhi court has since stayed the exhibition in India of the interview with the convict. To forestall the viewing of the video through social media, the Government of India “requested” Google to remove the video clip from Facebook; anxious to maintain cordial business relations, Google complied, with neither party emerging with credit from the episode, given that thousands of people had already viewed the “offending” video.
Possibly the only issue in question in this entire drama is the legality of the convict’s interview and whether it prejudices his rights, when his appeal is still pending in the Supreme Court. This is a matter that the Supreme Court will decide at the appropriate time. There is, therefore, no reason for the public to get steamed up on legal issues. If any violation of legal rights of the convict is substantiated, action can be taken against those in government who authorised the interview. What is surprising (and, indeed, disturbing) is the jingoistic response of supposedly liberal-minded individuals and the feeling of victimisation that India is being unfairly singled out for what is a worldwide occurrence.
Before analysing the nature of the response to the screening of this documentary, let us look at the position of women in the India of the twenty first century. Girls’ education levels, in spite of social hurdles and less than average service delivery in the public education system, have registered significant improvements in the last two decades, especially in urban areas. The internet and mobile revolution and the phenomenal growth in outsourcing opportunities have created major avenues for employment of women. With the explosion in connectivity, a new vista is unfolding before the Indian woman: she is aware of the freedoms her sisters across the globe enjoy and is keen to be a part of the globalisation process. This has bred considerable insecurity in the Indian male, who finds his age-old dominance over the other sex under serious threat. This insecurity can be viewed from two perspectives.
The first level of insecurity relates to the challenge posed to the traditional patriarchal system by the growing financial and social independence of an increasingly assertive Indian woman, confident of her individuality. The male hierarchy has traditionally viewed women as property, to be protected; the tendency is to elevate her (rather hypocritically) to the status of a goddess, who should confine herself to the temple of the house, serving her husband and bearing children to ensure continuity of the clan. (Spokesmen of the present ruling dispensation have sanctified this view, at least for the majority community, by their exhortation to women to bear at least five to ten children each). This arrangement has been very convenient for the male: he takes very limited responsibility for running the house, with the woman being expected to sacrifice her career, social life and health in attending to the family chores. This situation obtains even where, for economic or other reasons, the woman also works — the man often appropriates her income and she has to juggle home and work duties. Lest there be any misapprehension that this mind-set prevails only in the poorer sections of society, let me unequivocally state that this attitude cuts across caste, religion and income levels. The architects of the Indian Republic were far more progressive than their successors: they adopted universal franchise right at the time of independence, a right that women in the United Kingdom and United States of America had to struggle for generations to get. Contrast this with the attitude of the defence force top brass and their political masters today — women still cannot hope to get permanent commissions in combat formations in the armed forces. Even in 2050, India will not have a full General or Admiral, though she may have had a number of female Presidents and Prime Ministers by then.
The second, rather dangerous level of insecurity ties in with the first — the feeling that the Indian woman has secured education and job openings at the expense of her male counterpart, coupled with difficulties the Indian male has in accepting different cultural norms of dress and behaviour. Added to the limited employment opportunities available, it breeds resentment among young men who find it difficult to stomach the spectacle of women out on their own at the late hours of the night and visiting bars and pubs, long considered an all-male preserve. The statements of the convict and his defence lawyers betray this mind-set, with even violence against women being justified in such scenarios.
Two factors have contributed (and continue to contribute) to what can only be termed a diseased mentality: education systems and the overall social milieu. Knowledge (especially bookish knowledge) and wisdom (the ability to discriminate) are by no means synonymous. The Indian education system operates by rote learning: there is no attempt to develop analytical abilities. An additional factor is the weak base of liberal humanities education in any discipline, whether law, medicine or engineering courses, or even in the humanities disciplines themselves. The individual does not emerge from this system with a broader world-view, nor does he question assumptions handed down to him by flawed education and social systems. The social environment skews the situation still further. The Indian woman runs a steeplechase all her life. Before she is born, parents are going in for sex determination tests to determine whether to allow the new life to exist at all. If they are unsuccessful in this, the newborn is sought to be added to the rising numbers of India’s “missing women”. Poorer health care, nutrition and education (relative to her male siblings) mean that the Indian woman starts off with a significant handicap in life. If she crosses these hurdles, her family (and society) seek to tie her up in matrimony and family responsibilities, which again restrict her expression of her fullest potential: all this, of course, in addition to domestic neglect and violence that is the lot of a large number of women in India. The greatest tragedy is what the educator Paulo Freire termed the “duality of the oppressed”. Having internalised the system of patriarchal domination, many women seek to perpetuate this system: they fear the freedom that a change in the situation will necessarily bring about. The harassment of young brides for dowry (generally with the active involvement of mothers-in-law) is only a case in point.
It is this social environment which inhibits the fullest development of a woman’s individuality that needs to be introspected on. India is not in a ranking competition with other nations in what is a matter of shame for the entire human race. That it exists in other nations is no matter of great satisfaction for us — it is as meaningless as the assertion many years before that corruption is a worldwide phenomenon. To talk about national prestige and not do some agonised soul-searching on why we as a society are what we are is to refuse to face the stark reality that women in India are confronted with on a daily basis. To all those politicians, members of the legal profession and media persons who vehemently pressed for a ban on “India’s Daughter”, my only response would be “That country has no honour which does not honour its women”.

(The writer, a retired civil servant, comments on public affairs and policy and matters of human interest. Contact him at ramaniv@gmail.com and www. vramani.com)

28 Feb

Reconstructing the bureaucracy

Posted by vramani in public policy. Tagged: .

Anyone familiar with the “Yes Minister” and “Yes Prime Minister” television series that highlighted how the British government bureaucracy ran rings around their political “masters” would have realised that its Indian counterpart is no laggard when it comes to teaching its political bosses some of the tricks of the trade (and more). It was only after forty years of mutual coexistence of the babu and the neta that the political class, in a crisis situation in 1991, started to tinker with the apparatus of controls that had placed the babu in an all-powerful position. But there was a flaw in this approach: while the license-permit raj was dismantled, the babu raj was left to flourish merrily. Successive governments in the past twenty years have blithely ignored the recommendations of the Fifth Central Pay Commission (FCPC) (1997) on downsizing the bureaucracy as well as the weighty (literally!) reports of the Second Administrative Reforms Commission (SARC) (2009). While the present government in New Delhi promises to sweep the stables clean, there is the ever-present danger that the sprawling babudom right from Delhi to the galli will ensure that all efforts at reform of systems and institutions are brought to nought. The BJP government in Delhi would, therefore, do well to carry out fundamental reforms in the selection and functioning of the bureaucracy, in Delhi for a start, in the states run by its governments as a parallel measure and, through public support for improved governance consequent on such reforms, at levels of local governance.

At the apex level, the bureaucratic structure comprises the All-India Services (the Indian Administrative Service (IAS), the Indian Police Service (IPS), the Indian Forest Service (IFoS)), the Indian Foreign Service (IFS) and the various All-India Services with specific functions, like the Revenue Service, Postal Service, Audits & Accounts Service, etc. Below these are the vast army of subordinate services that man the Secretariats in Delhi and innumerable field offices in Delhi and all over the country. The first issue that arises in any discussion on administrative reforms is the range of functions that the national government in Delhi has arrogated to itself, through both legislative measures and administrative diktats. Drawing on the views expressed by the FCPC (though not entirely agreeing with it), the national government should confine its functioning to the areas of national security, international relations, macroeconomic management, natural resource management and major infrastructure development. This obviously implies a steep reduction in the number of government departments and agencies at the national level. The national government can be whittled down from over 80 Ministries and departments to barely 20. Most of the functions that need to be carried out at a national level can be entrusted to specialised regulatory bodies and agencies. A majority of these functions should be handed over to the states, with professional advisory bodies providing knowledge inputs in the areas of urban management, health, education, rural development, etc. The national government then plays the role of an enabler and facilitator, with state governments implementing policies in a wide range of areas, free of central control.

The sweeping changes in the scope of responsibilities of the national government will have major implications for the structure and management of governance systems at the national level (as well as for state and local governments, where similar reforms should be carried out in a phased manner):

  • The existing top civil service systems should be recast. The All-India Services had a vital integrative function at the time of independence, as envisaged by Sardar Patel. The challenges faced in the post-partition period and the imperatives of nation building in a country with a multiplicity of administrative systems, inherited from the British and the princely states, necessitated a professional civil service which provided a link between the national government and the states. With established political systems in every state and a growing integration of peoples, arising through inter-state migration, (although the occasional regrettable xenophobic incident rears its ugly head from time to time) the need for persons of one state being sent to man the administrative apparatus in another state is an idea that has outlived its utility. The All-India Services can, therefore, be phased out in a fixed period of time, with currently serving members being given time to acquire the skills/expertise necessary to enable them to readjust themselves in the new dispensation at the national level or to seek employment opportunities in state governments, local governments or the private sector. Other central services will continue, with a truncated role, based on the functional requirements of the national government.
  • Ministries will be lean (though not mean!) In line with what the SARC has recommended, it is proposed that the standard ministry at the Secretariat level will have just three levels of staffing,one at the top management level, the second at the middle management level and the third at the back office support level. Since a large number of even such functions as remain with the ministries will be hived off to autonomous regulatory bodies and specialised agencies, the ministries will be thinly manned, with their major functions being piloting legislation through Parliament and securing budgetary support for the organisations functioning in their sectors. Regulatory bodies and agencies will also have the same three-tier structure of staffing. With the clubbing together of departments under nodal ministries, each Ministry would function with one Secretary, a number of Deputy Secretaries covering the departments under the Ministry and assistants to handle back office responsibilities.
  • Public service employment will be for fixed contract periods. Recruitment to government will be only on a contractual basis, at all levels, for a period of five years. Persons will be free to move from the government to other sectors on completion of their contract periods, with movement in the other direction also being actively encouraged to draw the best capabilities into the public governance stream. Qualifications for hiring will be based on the specific skills and knowledge, as well as experience, required for each level. While the upper age limit for holding a post would be 60 years, there will be no age bar for entry into government jobs at any level.
  • Any citizen of India will be eligible to apply, subject to meeting the necessary qualifying standards. At the end of the contract period, the post(s) will be advertised afresh, with the current incumbent having the right to compete with new applicants for the post. The same process will be followed for ministries, regulatory bodies and agencies. Applicants for positions in the Government of India will be expected to have passed qualifying examinations in English, Hindi and any one other language listed in the Eighth Schedule of the Constitution of India; at the state and local government levels, working proficiency in English and one of the languages used in that state and listed in the Eighth Schedule can be made mandatory.
  • Performance norms will be enforced. Contractual appointees will be assessed on the basis of their performance during the contract period. Ministry/agency heads will be judged on the basis of their attaining the specific objectives/outcomes they have committed to achieve. Performance of other levels will be assessed on the basis of their contribution to the organisational goals. At the time a post comes up for fresh appointment, one of the criteria for considering the current incumbent will be her performance (in terms of outcomes achieved) during the contract period. Annual remuneration will be tied to performance achievement, with variable pay determined both by the performance of the individual and the performance of her organisation during that year. Established misconduct and/or financial turpitude will lead to termination of the contract, after due process of law is followed.
  • Perquisites will not be offered. With a downsized bureaucracy, the national government will be able to offer attractive pay packages that, even if not in line with private sector packages, will, nevertheless, be attractive enough to attract talent drawn from a cross-section of society covering serving and one-time babus, academia and the private sector. All perquisites currently on offer, including transport, housing, etc. will be withdrawn, with contractual employees expected to arrange for their accommodation and travel to and from work.
  • The business of government will not be business. Ministries will divorce themselves from the day to day management of public services and public sector undertakings. The national government will reduce its holdings in all public sector companies such that it no longer exercises management control over these enterprises. This will include the railways and banking sectors, with the railways being spun off as a series of companies, managed by a holding company. As a shareholder, government will be entitled, like other shareholders, to appoint its nominees as directors on the boards of these companies in line with its share of equity. This will cover all sectors of the economy, including defence and atomic energy. After all, if the country can rely to such a great extent on foreign supplies of defence equipment and foreign knowhow for atomic energy plants, there is no reason why the domestic private sector cannot be a participant in these ventures. Infrastructure projects will be managed by special purpose vehicles, manned by contractually appointed professionals. Procurement and purchase decisions will be made within the respective organisations, with strict tendering norms being followed.
  • Accountability for decisions will be rigorously enforced. The public ombudsman, the Lokpal, will exercise scrutiny over the actions of public officials at the national level. She will be assisted in this function by an audit wing, on the lines of the Comptroller and Auditor General and by an investigative wing similar to the Central Bureau of Investigation. Special courts will expeditiously dispose of cases where the Lokpal sees fit to launch prosecutions against officials. Any official convicted of an offence will, apart from being liable for penalties under the law, be debarred from thereafter applying for public office. The Lok Ayukta will have similar powers to deal with state level and local public servants.

 

One can already hear howls of protest from politicians that they are being denied the right to take decisions in important matters like procurements and purchases. Given the track record of political decision-making in these matters over the past so many years, I don’t think too many tears will be shed on the abridgement of this dubious “privilege”. Standardisation and automation of procurement procedures will remove a large element of discretion in such decisions. The fear of prosecution and lengthy jail terms will deter public officials from taking anything other than professional, impartial decisions. Elected representatives, in any case, have a choice: if they so much wish to be part of the decision-making process, they are free to apply for any post in government that is advertised. Since bureaucrats and politicians both have five year terms, with no guarantee of reoccupying the position after five years, they are more or less on the same pedestal. As for the babu, the removal of lifelong security of tenure will, it is hoped, remove the national obsession with “sarkari naukri” and create an atmosphere where innovation and entrepreneurship will be fostered.

 

15 Feb

AAP Ki Kasam

Posted by vramani in public affairs, public policy.

January 2015 has been a watershed month for the Indian political system. A David has single-handedly slain not one, but two Goliaths. Delhi witnessed scenes of exultation probably last seen after the defeat of the Congress party in the 1977 general elections. As the Chief Minister and his Council of Ministers seek to come to grips with governing a highly complex metropolis, a number of question marks will inevitably raise their heads. These arise after going through the party’s manifesto for the Lok Sabha elections (“the Manifesto”) as well as its 70 point Action Plan for Delhi (“the Action Plan”). Though the former gives pointers to the overarching strategy of the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) in its search for a national presence, it is the latter that assumes more immediate relevance, since the day has dawned when promises will have to be translated into performance. Without wanting to sound like a modern-day Cassandra, I see three areas where AAP will need to clarify its approach, if it is to meet the aspirations of the people of Delhi and emerge as a viable national alternative by 2019.

The first relates to what may be termed an “anti-institutional” worldview. The AAP was born out of the ferment of the Jan Lokpal agitation of 2011. At that time itself, the effort of the agitators was to virtually stampede the government of the day and Parliament into passing the Jan Lokpal Bill as formulated by them, without debate and without taking other points of view into consideration. It is true that the speed of functioning of all public institutions in independent India is enough to drive any Indian to tears. Still, that does not justify an attempt to push through legislation which, if enacted in its proposed form, could have impinged on the right to liberty of the citizen. The Manifesto and the Action Plan repose their confidence in the very same, unadulterated version of the Jan Lokpal bill, which vests enormous powers in an individual, virtually ushering in a fresh era of the Jacobin Terror with the Lokpal as Robespierre. Not only that, the Manifesto also talks of seizure of assets of corrupt judges. The very foundation of a democracy based on separation of powers would be shaken if the judiciary is sought to be regulated by an outside agency. In fact, the thrust of AAP seems to be on punishment of errant individuals rather than the reform of outdated laws and systems that, coupled with a judicious use of information technology, could vastly circumscribe the scope for corruption.

A second area of concern is the apparent disregard for the principles of sound public finance. The Action Plan promises many concessions and substantial public expenditure on items ranging from concessional power and water to toilets, education, healthcare, housing and social security. The emphasis appears to be on the government as the sole provider, without any involvement of the private or non-profit sectors. Services are sought to be ramped up by increased public employment, without analysing why existing staff (which is considerable) has not been able to deliver, especially in the crucial health and education sectors. There is no mention in the Manifesto of the large, often dysfunctional public sector that bleeds the financial resources of the country and what steps will be taken to make it more efficient. Also, while the poor implementation of social sector schemes has been mentioned in the Manifesto, there is no elaboration on whether these schemes will be redesigned to plug leakages and reach those really in need. The Action Plan also talks of introducing the lowest VAT rates in Delhi. Put all these together and what you are headed for is a huge budget deficit. Delhi may still survive on hand-outs from the central government, but the picture will change for the worse if AAP seeks to run any other state government or, indeed, the central government, on the same financial principles.

The third area of unease relates to the likely impact of AAP’s economic policies on growth. In its Manifesto, AAP talks of placing India on “a sustainable, equitable, globally competitive and high-growth trajectory”. The Action Plan wants a “Delhi that is prosperous, modern and progressive”. But a number of points in the Action Plan are calculated to make private investors wary. It opposes contractualisation of labour and supports permanency of employment in jobs that require round the year employment. While this has been stated in the context of public sector employment, it is quite likely that the same dispensation will extend to employment in the private sector as well. This is going to dampen private investor sentiment; companies need to have the flexibility of ‘hiring and firing’ in a globalised economy (of course, with social security mechanisms and job/skill retraining opportunities). The Action Plan opposes FDI in retail; this is in line with what the party calls “trader-friendly policies”. The problem is that policies which meet trader interests often act against the interests of farmers and organised industry. The repeated references to “crony capitalism” and “encouraging honest businessmen and traders” seem to indicate a mistrust of large-size businesses. Again, one needs to stress that strong institutional mechanisms, including competent regulatory systems and simplified procedures, are crucial to checking corruption. India has an abysmal record in the speed of starting and ease of doing business: one certainly looks forward to the end of the Inspector Raj, enunciated in the Action Plan. Finally, the budget deficits inherent in a populist economic approach and the consequent increased government borrowing will have its adverse impact on private sector access to low-cost capital.

This is not intended to be a critique of AAP’s policies, just a flagging of some concerns that are too often given short shrift by intellectuals and the media in the first heady flush of victory. The AAP has been given a historical mandate. “Aap ki Kasam” can be translated as “on my honour”. To honour its commitment to good governance, AAP needs to adopt a pragmatic and non-confrontational approach to issues, guided by economic realism and political and social realities. It’s progress in national politics will be determined by its success in managing its government in Delhi. To the extent that it is able to do this, it can have voters on a larger platform crooning (in 2019) that popular song from the film Qurbani:

आप जैसा कोई मेरी ज़िन्दगी में आए, तो बात बन जाए…

(If someone like you comes into my life, then my life is made)

 

 

31 Jan

Mind your language

Posted by vramani in public affairs, public policy.

For those uninitiated in the intricacies of getting into the higher echelons of the Indian bureaucracy, CSAT stands for the “Civil Service Aptitude Test” — a test at the preliminary stage for assessing the suitability of aspirants for “India’s steel frame”. Much energy was expended earlier this year by civil service candidates in protesting against the inclusion of a mandatory English proficiency portion in the CSAT. While the opposition was ostensibly to the unfair advantage conferred on urban-type English speakers, the doubt was raised in certain quarters as to whether the protest was against the test of aptitude, which militates against the time-honoured rote method of ingesting and expurgating information, without using reasoning abilities. However, the present blog is limiting itself to the issue of language, a vexed issue in a polyglot society, ever since Pandit Nehru and C. Rajagopalachari first grappled with the issue of formation of states based on linguistic considerations.

The subject gained fresh impetus when the Education Minister backed the introduction of Sanskrit at the expense of German in the Kendriya Vidyalayas. This storm unfortunately unfolded when the Prime Minister was meeting his German counterpart in Australia, earning him a free lecture from Frau Merkel. The issue generated even more nationalistic emotions, with various politicians harking back to our glorious traditions. Forgotten was the abysmal quality of Sanskrit taught in schools: I speak from personal experience. In my middle school years, I was exposed to Sanskrit as the third language, after English and Hindi. Our teacher, one of Delhi’s well-known theatre figures, tried hard to get the language into the skulls of forty riotous boys, for whom India’s beautiful ancient language was just one more subject in which pass marks had to be secured. The wonders of declension and grammatical construction passed us by and we ended up with little or no knowledge of the language. I doubt if most of us can read Sanskrit or appreciate the beauty of the language. I have been a little more fortunate; subsequent exposure to devotional songs and religious texts enabled me to acquire at least the ability to understand Sanskrit texts.

Why talk only of Sanskrit: all languages are taught extremely poorly in most schools, with the result that we are unable to put together a coherent paragraph in any language. I thought our problem was only with the English language till I encountered notings in Marathi on government files in Maharashtra which revealed the shoddy quality of even written Marathi. In fact, using language (any language) to express oneself cogently and clearly is a dying art.

Language has always been the medium for transmission of ideas and knowledge. Before Gutenberg initiated the printing revolution, knowledge was conveyed from one generation to another solely through the spoken word: hence the term “smriti“, which refers to the traditions and wisdom passed on from master to disciple – the mind was the manuscript. Ancient scriptures were thus preserved: this has probably contributed to the Indian’s phenomenal memory, reflected in our emphasis in today’s education system on rote learning rather than critical thinking.

So what is a practical approach to language in a country boasting of over five hundred languages, as per a recent survey? From before Indian independence and, again, fifty years back, the attempt to impose a national language by executive fiat came a cropper, with anti-Hindi riots breaking out in Tamil Nadu. The situation on the ground has undergone a sea change since then. Large-scale interstate migration to avail of employment avenues has made most Indians multilingual. It is fascinating to hear a burly Sikh speaking Tamil with no trace of an accent; one has to, of course, hand it to the Marwari businessman, who can pick up the local language after a short stay in any state. For that matter, sheer survival instincts prompted my quick adoption of the Marathi language. The prospect of signing a government file with Marathi notings which I did not understand filled me with dread.

The best (also most pragmatic) approach would be to offer a wide variety of languages, both Indian and foreign, with excellent facilities for both online and offline learning. If you (and your children) are going to be staying and working in Karnataka for the next thirty years, you are hardly likely to opt for Gujarati. If your offspring is planning to look for employment opportunities in Serbia or neighbouring countries, there is no reason why she should not become proficient in Serbian or Serbo-Croat languages. If you travel extensively in India, especially in the north, you will, of necessity, have to acquire adequate proficiency in Hindi. Whether one likes it or not, the vast majority of Indians (all of whom aspire for upward mobility) are going to want to learn the English language. Rather than demonise the teaching of English, it would make far more sense to offer quality English language courses, with well-trained teachers. Today, if you want to learn even an Indian language, there are very few good online courses imparting written and spoken language skills.

What, one may ask, will be the language of communication in government offices? In Government of India offices, it makes far more sense to conduct business in English, since there is going to be a large volume of communication with the world outside India. I could never understand the inanity of notes for the Cabinet of Ministers in Delhi being prepared in both English and Hindi. The Hindi copies, faithfully distributed to all Ministers, were read only by a small proportion of Ministers from the Hindi-speaking states. It would have saved many trees if each Minister had been asked to state her (or his) preference for either English or Hindi, with only those many copies being printed. Ministers from non-Hindi speaking states are generally quite comfortable with English and conduct most of their business in English. In the states, the local language spoken by the majority of residents can be the official language for conducting government business, as is the case even today. The inexorable pull of the market will inevitably decide which language(s) will gain prominence. States are today actively selling themselves as investment destinations; a state whose bureaucrats and politicians are not able to communicate effectively is going to fall behind in the sweepstakes.

Finally, I wish to dispel the myth that making a particular language the medium of instruction is going to turn out students fluent in that language, let alone instil in them a love for the rich literature that is the heritage of all Indian languages. It is more desirable to have a hundred students fascinated by and conducting research on Sanskrit texts than to have ten thousand students who painfully scrape through the language with no intention of ever returning to it. If knowledge of German is going to open avenues of knowledge and employment in one of the world’s great economic performers, why deny Indian students a piece of that very scrumptious cake?

15 Jan

The God That Failed

Posted by vramani in Innovation.

“The God That Failed” is a book that describes the association of six prominent Western intellectuals of the twentieth century, from Andre Gide to Arthur Koestler and Stephen Spender, with communism and their subsequent disillusionment with and repudiation of the communist philosophy. While I am not analysing their motivations in first ardently espousing and then just as emphatically rejecting the charms of communism, the subject set me thinking on the very human need for a greater force (or purpose) to give meaning to human lives and how this impacts and has had particularly earth-shaking effects on human life and conduct, especially in the last one hundred years or so.

What has set off this train of thought has been my own experience of encountering individuals in the course of my life who have moved from the extreme left of supporting a people’s war movement to the extreme right of religious conservatism in the span of a few decades. I entered Delhi University in the fourth year of the 1970s when the pro-Naxalite movement in its elite colleges had run its course and those who had forsaken their college education to work for the cause of the oppressed were returning to the routine existence of university life. There were enough ideologues spouting Marxist philosophy in Delhi University itself; one did not need to turn to the other major university in South Delhi to encounter those who were spellbound by Marxist economics and Communist politics. What has since caused me immense surprise is to find many of those in the vanguard of left revolution in the 1970s ensconced in the camp of staunchly rightist parties with a strong religious ideology by the start of the twenty first century. Now I am not for a moment suggesting that we should be fixed in our ideological views over a lifetime; what I do find interesting and worthy of more detailed analysis are the possible reasons for this dramatic change in worldview.

I will only mention in passing the possibility that the shift in loyalty to a different ideology is occasioned by a cynical calculation of where one’s interests lie. In today’s amoral, consumerist age, the desire for fame and social position may lead one to make conscious choices to espouse an ideology which offers social and economic advancement. Such a person will switch sides with alacrity once he senses that the boat he is on is sinking: just study the recent instances of candidates for elections to the Indian Parliament and state legislatures nimbly party-hopping to secure their electoral futures. Setting aside the cases of those falling in this category, I am more concerned with those who blindly adhere to a specific ideology. What motivates such people and what implications does this have for the evolution of human society, given that this phenomenon pervades all countries and societies?

The basic urge for holding to an ideology is the fear of loneliness of the individual. As a social animal, man seeks to conform to accepted social norms to acquire a sense of belonging. Established religions have shrewdly recognised this urge and created a culture of myths and legends to attract followers and hold them in thrall. Deviations from the accepted wisdom have been severely punished. Many ‘heretics’ perished in the Inquisitions of the Middle Ages. Galileo escaped by the skin of his teeth by recanting on his view that the earth revolves around the sun, though he is supposed to have defiantly muttered under his breath “Eppur si muove” (and yet it moves). Even today, followers of organised religions severely punish what they see as transgressions from the laid-down laws, sometimes with the full concurrence of the government of the day and often in flagrant breach of the rule of law. The victims range from ordinary citizens of different countries to air travellers to, as we saw recently, schoolchildren and cartoonists. In India, religion has fed on a sense of lack of identity and a feeling of victimisation in the majority community, to generate historical grievances which are apparently to be corrected in the present day.

The Industrial Revolution and its aftermath saw a weakening of the hold of religion on the populace. As education spread and the Age of Reason extended its influence, a new prophet appeared on the scene in the shape of Karl Marx. As the old order collapsed with the onset of the first World War, Communism entrenched itself, first in Soviet Russia and then, in stages, in Eastern Europe and, most significantly, China. The promise of equality and a classless society came as a whiff of fresh air to a host of Western intellectuals, disillusioned by the operation of the capitalist system. Not surprisingly, the infection also caught up with restless youth in countries like India, especially when the Nehruvian experiment started unravelling from the mid-1960s onwards. However, the senseless violence of the Naxalite movement and the severe state repression it invited led to rapid disenchantment with ‘armed revolution’ and the idealistic youth were soon engaged in making their way up in middle-class India, in the bureaucracy, academia or journalism.

With ideology in the form of a classless state having lost its charm, more so as the horrors of China’s Cultural Revolution have come to light and as that country itself has abandoned the socialist path, the Indian middle class has now latched on to a heady mixture of the desire for a strong man, coupled with a yearning for an idealised, mythical past. Central to this development is the loss of individual identity in an economy and society buffeted by the storms of globalisation and liberalisation. Weak governance systems have failed to provide the citizen with the comforts that would be taken for granted in a developed country. At such times, there is inevitably the longing for a political messiah who will cut through the slough of despondency and hopelessness and lead the nation to a brighter future.

And so we move from the ideology of religion to ideology in the form of a philosophy, epitomised by a strong party/state and the omnipotent individual.  The twentieth century moved through the absolute domination over large parts of the world, from Soviet Russia to China, North Korea, Kampuchea and Libya, by powerful dictators, whether they espoused a left or right of centre philosophy, or indeed no philosophy at all. But what is it that impels the individual to associate himself so totally with a dominant ideology, party, state or individual? It arises out of the sense of personal insignificance of the individual and his fear of the finiteness of his existence. Religion at least gave the individual solace that there was an afterlife, that wretchedness in this life would be compensated by rebirth, hopefully in happier surroundings. The rudderless individual, confronted by a world that he is unable to deal with, desperately seeks to merge his identity in a larger than life entity to get a feeling of security and belonging. It is here that the tragedy of the Indian intellectual can be clearly observed. The scholar/sociologist Dipankar Gupta in a prescient article last year in the Times of India drew a sharp distinction between intellectuals and ideologues. While the former maintain impartiality and independence in their analysis of affairs of the world, the latter are co-opted into a dispensation which uses their skills of “intellectual” jugglery to bolster its position and gain legitimacy. Some of these ideologues do benefit in terms of social or official positions but the greater benefit lies in the secure cocoon of a political formation that gives meaning to their lives.

Where does all this leave us circa 2015? The continued existence of a democracy is crucially dependent on independent, sceptical commentators who are wedded to the concept of a liberal, open society. They are not against any person or political formation — rather they recognise the truth of Lord Acton’s dictum “Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” The twentieth century has seen enough instances of systems and individuals promising utopia to their masses, only to bring them rudely down to earth. The second portion of Lord Acton’s statement, which is never quoted, is relevant in this context “Great men are almost always bad men.” Lest this be interpreted as a sweeping indictment of statesmen and political leaders, let me hasten to add that the inexorable operations of social and political systems invariably cause even leaders who start with noble intentions to adopt the path of curbing political freedoms to remain in power, ostensibly to attain their lofty goals. The need of the hour, not only in India but elsewhere as well, is for thinking individuals who seek to influence public opinion to critically examine trends in social and political life and ask searching questions of those in power. Ultimately, we should all echo that little child as he beheld the emperor’s new clothes “But he hasn’t got anything on!”

 

31 Dec

It’s a dog’s life or Why We Are Going To The Dogs

Posted by vramani in public affairs, public policy.

A relative of mine recently wanted to bring her 11 year old pet dog on her annual visit to her family in India. She came up against the latest instance of bureaucratic obduracy that is the hallmark of Bharat Sarkar. The regulations of April 2013 allow the entry into India of only those pets whose owners are shifting residence to India after a continuous stay of at least two years abroad. But the killer clauses came thereafter: no one on a tourist or business visa could bring their pets into India, regardless of the period of absence from India. What was dogging our policy makers became clear to me after searching the net and talking to the representative of an agency that handles import and export of pets into India. Apparently, breeders were using the tourist visa facility to merrily bring dogs into India, adding to an already huge canine population. The solution was the typical sarkari one of using a sledgehammer to kill a fly (sorry, dog!): you may enter the country with up to two pets, but only if you are relocating to India. When I brought to the agent’s notice the fact that the dog in question had been a regular visitor to India from 2003 to 2009 and had a valid certificate of export from India, she relented to the extent of saying that the dog could be imported via Bengaluru or Mumbai airports, but not Chennai, since the animal quarantine authorities in the latter had doggedly refused admission to even one pet ever since the 2013 government circular came into force. It was game, set and match to the animal quarantine authorities once it was established that my female relative could not bring the dog as accompanied baggage, since the name on the last export certificate was of her husband.

I thought thirty years in the Indian bureaucracy would have inured me to all its foibles and idiosyncrasies, but the latest example of masterly bureaucratese left me dumbfounded. Four years after leaving the hallowed portals of government, my own brushes with the bureaucracy have convinced me that it is a zero-sum game, zero for the citizen and all for the government. Take the KYC norms, termed “Know Your Customer” but which I interpret as “Keep You Confused”. Early in 2011, I was told that I had to fulfil KYC norms to be able to operate my bank account, demat account, etc. Then followed the tiresome routine of gathering documents to prove my existence and place of residence. Just when I thought I had finally laid this ghost to rest, my bank manager told me in 2013 once again that the KYC formality had to be gone through. Apparently, there is some lurking suspicion in Bharat Sarkar’s mind that I am operating ghost accounts under a fictitious name and address.

Let us take a third example: suppose you run a business with an income-tax permanent account number (PAN) and a service tax registration. These two taxes (one direct and the other indirect) are administered by two departments coming under the same Ministry of Finance. And yet the entire process from registration to payment and filing of returns is handled by two agencies, with two websites, separate processes and separate returns filing systems. Add to this the payment of state-level sales tax and local taxes on shops and establishments and you have a veritable nightmare of departments and offices, not to mention personnel, with which the businessman has to deal. With (hopefully!) the introduction of the goods and service tax (GST), the multiplicity of taxes will be reduced. But don’t bet on life becoming simpler: some taxes at state and local levels will continue and reporting requirements to multiple agencies may still be required.

The final icing on the bureaucratic banana peel is the eternal Aadhaar scheme. When there was already an identity card in the shape of the PAN card in place, was there really need to introduce another identity card? Votaries of Aadhaar will immediately point to the likely misuse of PAN cards and how the biometric identification of Aadhaar cards will eliminate duplication and false registration. But is this really so? We have instances where animals and inanimate objects have been vested with Aadhaar cards. What is to prevent an individual from registering for Aadhaar cards at four different locations? Is there a mechanism which will identify that the biometric identification has been duplicated on more than one Aadhaar card? In any case, could the biometric identification (presuming it is technologically fool proof) not have been built into the PAN card registration process itself to reduce the number of identity proofs that an individual has to carry? What will be the relevance of the Aadhaar card for those sections of the population that do not need to or wish to avail of any benefits from the government? I would be most happy if I received some enlightenment on these issues from a more-Aadhaar educated person.

The problem, I think, lies with our innately suspicious nature as Indians, particularly if we are required to deliver a public service benefit. We are convinced that the other party is, through some jugaad or the other, going to acquire some benefit. In the process of making the process foolproof, the bureaucracy builds in provisions that make it willy nilly impossible for the ordinary citizen to comply with. Two consequences result: either the scope for discretion (and, hence, corruption) increases, creating new markets for the ubiquitous Indian dalaal, or the citizen decides to simply ignore the irritating provision, probably one reason why service tax is evaded by large sections of professionals. Simplifying tax regimes and reporting requirements as well as making access to public services easier would encourage compliance and strengthen the case for more punitive actions against wilful evaders. There has been a lot of storm in recent days on the kissathon in different cities; what government agencies need is also a KISSathon, KISS standing here for the well-known “Keep It Simple, Stupid”.

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