Thursday, July 29, 2010

Big money, big mess (July 30, 2010)

By Swapan Dasgupta

For a person who is so unmistakably Anglo-Saxon by temperament, Mani Shankar Aiyar has never been partial to the understatement. Whether in private or in his public utterances, this "man of letters" (an unlikely honour accorded to him by an equally unlikely judge of the arts) has packaged his undeniable wit in reckless hyperbole, an impishness that once prompted me to describe him as the Beast of Myladuthurai—a recondite allusion to a character from juvenile literature of another age.

Ever since he came into public gaze as a functionary of the Prime Minister's Office way back in 1985, Mani has provided hours of amusement to all those who appreciate his brand of adult puerility. Unfortunately, Mani has a niche appeal and his wit has invited the righteous indignation of those not fortunate to have been raised on a diet of Carry On films and Kooler Talk. The weightier bits of Mani's interventions have been obscured by his merciless asides.

So it was with his spontaneous outburst against the Commonwealth Games, due to be hosted by Delhi in October. Having decried the thousands of crores being wasted on such "circuses", Mani fell back on Biblical imagery to suggest that "Those who are patronising the Games can only be Evil. They cannot be God." But it was his coup de grace that had the CWG officialdom reaching for their guns: "I will be very unhappy if the Games are successful because they will start bringing Asian Games, Olympic Games…" An incensed boss of the Indian Olympic Association Suresh Kalmadi, the prime target of Mani's ire, responded by calling him "anti-national", a charge that in public discourse is almost akin to questioning the marital status of one's parents.

If Mani had been playing the loose cannon yet again, his intervention would have been treated with the familiar Mani-is-Mani refrain. Unfortunately for the Government, and despite his characteristic overkill, Mani's gripe touched a responsive chord in a Delhi has been mute witness to an orgy of inept and profligate spending of taxpayers' money. In normal circumstances, the media and the political class have voiced the disquiet of citizens. In the case of the CWG, blessed with a mega-Budget of unimaginable proportions, there have been scattered voices against particular projects—the renovation of bus shelters in roads where buses don't run, the re-paving of perfectly decent pavements, the slipshod finishing of sporting venues, et al. Sadly, these haven't been accompanied by any dissection of the event in its totality. The reasons for this lapse are a matter of conjecture.

Mani's contribution lay in being bold enough to say that the Emperor has no clothes. Had he not done it aplomb and polemical exaggeration, no one would have taken notice. Now the growing scepticism over the CWG can't be ignored. In riding his socialistic hubby horse, he has unwittingly created a window of opportunity for a widespread expression of disgust.

Beginning from the Berlin Olympics of 1936, international sporting events have become the occasion for countries and their governments to showcase themselves to the wider world. Yet, to succeed, official endeavours have to be accompanied by a huge measure of popular involvement, the Sydney Olympics of 2004 and even the just-concluded soccer World Cup in South Africa being case studies of purposeful harmony. What is striking about the Delhi CWG is the marked alienation of local citizens from an event that is also aimed at leaving behind a tangible legacy for the future.

Part of the reason lies in the sheer arbitrariness that marked the decision-making over civic improvements. In normal democratic societies, the re-fashioning of a city ought to have been preceded by widespread consultations between planners, local authorities and civil society. In the case of Delhi, tardiness at the initial stages led to a flurry of rushed decisions that left no time to observe the niceties of consultation. Whereas the objective of civic improvements should have been to create a better city, the late start meant that the completion of projects by October 2010 became the sole criterion. The inevitable consequence was a series of decisions that post-CWG Delhi may well come to regret.

The rush to meet an inflexible deadline has, of course, resulted in shoddy civil works that could result in some of the sports complexes becoming unusable in a year's time. But more galling has been the overhead route of the Delhi Metro that runs precariously close to residential areas, schools and even hospitals. Equally offensive has been the systematic felling of trees, the destruction of storm water drains and the questionable aesthetics of beautification. From being a city of parks, Delhi is in danger of becoming a city of parking lots.

This celebration of brashness isn't confined to the murder of aesthetics alone; it has a bearing on public finances. When the NDA Government cleared the proposal to bid for the CWG, it was said that the cost would be Rs 150 crore. To enhance the quality of the bid, the figure was raised to nearly Rs 1,900 crore. Some cost over-runs were predictable—the cost of hosting the London Olympics in 2012 has risen fourfold from £2.3 billion to £9.4 billion—and dependant on the scale of the legacy projects. In the case of the CWG, there is a mystery over the actual costs with estimates ranging from Rs 30,000 crore to Rs 50,000 crore.

How much of this money has been judiciously spent to create tangible assets for the future? Scepticism is justified when people see perfectly decent pavements in Lutyens' Delhi being uprooted for something new and then new one being again uprooted because someone forgot the drains or the water pipes. If there is a subsequent audit, it will reveal innumerable horror stories, enough to keep the ubiquitous CBI busy for years to come. If there isn't, the CWG will set a new benchmark of brazenness.

The CWG will have beneficiaries. Regrettably, it won't be the people of Delhi.

Asian Age/ Deccan Chronicle, July 30, 2010

Battleground heats up as the Hand plucks at the Lotus, one petal at a time (July 29, 2010)

By Swapan Dasgupta

During the 2007 election campaign for the Gujarat Assembly, an election which the Congress believed was eminently winnable, BJP's central observer Arun Jaitley maintained a checklist of must-do items for the evening. Early in the evening, there was a mandatory meeting with the low-key, soft-spoken V.Satish, a RSS-full-timer in the BJP, who would brief him on organisational matters relating to the entire Sangh parivar. This would be followed by a leisurely dinner which resembled a convivial dinner, attracting all manner of people from journalists and fellow lawyers to political tourists. Then, every alternate evening, there would be a 30-minute car ride to the spartan official residence of Narendra Modi in Gandhinagar, a private meeting that stretched well past midnight. On the other evenings, the post-prandial confabulations were reserved for a quiet meeting with the only other man who had his pulse firmly on the politics of Gujarat: Minister of State for Home Amit Shah.

If public profile was any guide, the portly, balding and scraggily bearded 46-year-old MLA from Sarkhej—the glittering part of 'new' Ahmedabad where the BJP majority, it used to be said, was weighed rather than counted—was just another junior minister in a government where the Chief Minister towered over all others. To those in the know of things, the taciturn Amit bhai had a reputation for quiet efficiency and enjoying the trust of a Chief Minister who chose to be regally aloof. His lowly status as a junior minister never reflected his true status as perhaps the most important political manager of the Modi dispensation. This must have weighed in the calculations of those who gave the CBI its political clearance to charge Shah with murder, extortion and obstruction of justice.

On his part, Modi never had the slightest doubt that the Supreme Court had unwittingly handed the Congress Party a deadly weapon of political combat by directing the CBI to investigate the 'encounter death' of Sohrabuddin Sheikh, a criminal who shot to national fame after his death became the issue of a Modi-Sonia Gandhi sparring match in 2007. From early May, coinciding with the arrest of IPS officer Abhay Chudasma, he had alerting the national leadership of the BJP of what he believed were the real intentions of the CBI inquiry: to drag Shah into the case and pave the way for a legal-cum-political assault on the Chief Minister himself. Those puzzled by the BJP's unrelenting assault on the "Congress Bureau of Investigation" throughout last May and June were possibly unaware of the sub-text of the counter-offensive. Equally, those mystified by the BJP's eccentric choice of senior criminal lawyer Ram Jethmalani for the Rajya Sabha, may now gauge that the Gujarat Chief Minister was in the process of 'capacity building' for what promises to be long and bitter fight. Ironically, the Congress spokesperson Shakeel Ahmed gave some of the game away when he demanded last Sunday that it was Modi who needed to answer various questions about the transfer of IPS officers linked to the case.

Whether the "Delhi Sultanate", as Modi derisively describes the Union Government, will opt for a frontal assault on the man who worsted Sonia in the 2007 'mauth ki saudagar' electoral encounter or prefer the death by a thousand cuts approach isn't clear as yet. For the moment, the political message of the CBI against Shah is that, far from being a doughty protector of national security, the Gujarat Government used robust patriotism as a cloak for running a protection and extortion racket with Shah as the mastermind and compliant policemen as foot-soldiers. It has been suggested that Sohrabuddin was eliminated, not because he was involved in a plot to kill Modi, but because Shah had taken a supari from some frightened marble traders of Rajasthan.

A more ridiculous version of events suggests that it was Sohrabuddin who was the 'actor' in the sex film of the discredited BJP general secretary Sanjay Joshi. As such, or so the argument goes, he had to be eliminated to prevent the sordid truth of the BJP internal feuds from coming out in the open. Mercifully, this fanciful version of political intrigue, attributed to a prominent human rights activist, doesn't find a place in the CBI version of events.

High level functionaries in Gujarat suggest that the CBI went the whole hog to try and link Shah to hawala operations and the benami purchase of land with the proceeds. It is understood that the CBI questioned nearly one thousand village patwaris to find out if land had been purchased by Shah or members of his family. This over-zealousness, it is whispered, even prompted Modi to remark that the CBI would be better served by going through the computerised data bank of land records. The premier investigation agency even organised its own sting operation through an arrested policeman who has allegedly turned approver to demonstrate that 'encounter specialist' D.G. Vanzara had acted on Shah's telephonic instructions.

The legal minds in the BJP national leadership who have studied the CBI charges say that, as of now, the case against Shah is flimsy and based on inferences and testimonies of people with very dubious backgrounds. Shah, it is true, made innumerable telephone calls to the various policemen who have also been charged with murder but, curiously, there are no records to show any conversations on the day either Sohrabuddin or his associate Tulsiram Prajapati were killed. This lacuna is being sought to be filled by verbal depositions from approvers—ex-DSP N.K. Amin has already been outed as one—or through sting operations. In the words of a BJP leader, the CBI's modus operandi was "arrest first and then discover the evidence."

The BJP believes that the Congress objective in the coming weeks is to create a hype of Modi's increasing vulnerability in Gujarat which it hopes will unnerve the bureaucracy. This impression of fragility will create conditions for many more officers to 'sing for their supper' before the CBI and reveal embarrassing truths or untruths that will nail Shah and, at a pinch, even implicate Modi.

The attempt by the CBI, through the media, to paint Shah as a shady figure, habitually inclined to accept bribes and come to the rescue of stock market scamsters appears to be part of the strategy to destroy the halo Modi has built around himself as the foremost practitioner of good and honest governance. It is a small but noteworthy detail that the bid to derail Modi as the 'mass murderer' of the post-Godhra riots has been shelved for the moment. It was seen to be yielding diminishing returns. The focus is on instances of arbitrariness that establish a moral equivalence between Modi and other 'lesser' politicians: the 'Lion of Gujarat' cannot claim special status.

At a national level, the Congress appears to have mounted a full-scale political assault on the BJP. The past fortnight has seen resurrection of the 'Hindu terror' revelations that came to an abrupt end after the 26/11 attacks in Mumbai, the agitation against the alleged illegal mining operations of the Reddy brothers of Bellary in Karnataka and, finally, the arrest of Amit Shah.

Part of the operations may have coincided with an attempt to break the show of Opposition evident in the Bharat Bandh of July 6. It is possible the Congress will be partially successful in this venture although it is doubtful that the resentment against price rise will disappear just because the BJP is portrayed as a disreputable party. On the flip side, however, the determination of the BJP to fight "Congress skulduggery" could see the derailment of the Government's legislative programme. It is understood that the Prime Minister is concerned that any appeal to the BJP to cooperate with the Government on the Nuclear Liabilities Bill—something that is calculated to sweeten the visit of President Barack Obama in November—will not bear fruit.

The tensions within the Government over the rushed CBI chargesheet could even offer a possible lifeline to the beleaguered Shah.


 


 

Regardless of whether or not the CBI succeeds in convicting a man who was an undeniable asset to Modi, even the most ardent supporters of the Gujarat Chief Minister cannot deny that the events of the past week have been a major setback. The BJP may well be convinced of Shah's complete innocence—something that Modi took care to proclaim publicly—but it will be a while before this can be established by a court. Having secured his arrest and played out the 'incriminating evidence' in the media, a process that is likely to persist for a few more months, there is no tearing hurry on the part of the CBI to rush through with the case. From the Congress' point of view too, unless it is convinced of securing a speedy conviction, it makes sense to allow the case to linger and for Shah to rot as an undertrial for the foreseeable future or at least until the 2012 Gujarat election.

Unlike some countries where the principle of innocent until proved guilty actually holds good and is supported by speedy justice, Indian public life works on the assumption that a chargesheet, accompanied by a prolonged denial of bail, is as good as conviction. Since the judicial process takes a decade or more to resolve complex cases—even the Supreme Court's monitoring doesn't appear to make too much of a difference—the accused are held to be guilty by default, and more so because there is a cynical belief that the rich and powerful always get away. To that extent, it would seem that the shrill media coverage and his imprudent disappearance from public view for two days have cast Shah as a villain and swayed middle class sentiment against both Modi and the BJP. This impression is likely to linger for some time.

Shah, however, is an incidental casualty of a Great Game: for the Congress, the only worthwhile target is Modi. The choice of Modi as Political Enemy No. 1 is partially based on the demonology around the man. As someone who has been reviled as an unrepentant 'mass murderer' and declared persona non grata by the Washington, the hate-Modi campaign has some obvious benefits. Apart from satisfying Muslims and other minorities who regard him as the man responsible for the bloody riots of 2002, it establishes the Congress as an uncompromising defender of secularism among liberal Hindus with distaste for political Hindutva. Since liberal Hindus have an influence far beyond their numbers and dominate strategic institutions such as the academia and media, a resolute anti-Modi positioning secures political benefits far beyond narrow electoral politics.

Within Gujarat, as past events have repeatedly demonstrated, targeting Modi doesn't automatically yield tangible returns. In the elections of 2002 and 2007, the Gujarat electorate has shown an inclination to be swayed by Modi's fierce mixture of regional and Hindu pride. As long as Congress lacks local leaders who can match Modi's charisma and as long as the BJP government can deliver a large measure of innovative governance, Modi can fall back on popular support to bail him out of a political offensive mounted against him from Delhi.

Yet, it is well known in BJP circles that Modi will not be content to spend the rest of his days lording over Gujarat. Having already established himself as the state's longest serving Chief Minister and having presided over the state's silver jubilee celebrations, Modi has an eye out for his moment nationally. Hugely popular among the BJP's committed supporters, Modi is aware that there is a section which believes that only he is capable of leading a demoralised party to recovery and, possibly, power at the Centre.

Unfortunately for him, this is a view that isn't uniformly shared, not even by those who admire the Gujarat leader and believe he is capable of playing a major national role. The scepticism is based on the cold logic of existing electoral politics.

The kerfuffle over advertisements praising Modi's assistance to the flood victims of the Kosi floods has resurrected the issue of the Gujarat leader's political untouchability outside his home state. Bihar Chief Minister Nitish Kumar's sharp reaction to Modi's self-publicity may have been triggered by those in his camp who see the Janata Dal (U) grabbing the entire 'secular', anti-Congress space, just as Lalu Prasad Yadav did in the 1990s. However, while Nitish is aware that such a move could well prove to be reckless at the present juncture—not least because he needs the BJP to garner the state's upper caste votes—he is equally concerned that Modi's presence during the forthcoming election campaign could lead to the consolidation of the state's 15 per cent Muslim vote against the NDA, as happened during the Lok Sabha elections of 2004. At the same time, there is no guarantee that, apart from enthusing BJP workers, Modi's presence would add value to the NDA campaign.

Although the hiccups of the BJP-JD(U) relationship appear to have subsided following a convivial dinner meeting between Nitish and BJP president Nitin Gadkari last week, the tensions in Bihar underline the problems Modi is likely to face in his quest for the national stage.

For the past eight years, Modi has consciously sought to reinvent himself as the upholder of purposeful and innovative governance. He has received glowing testimonials from India's corporate big-wigs and Gujarat has been consistently topping the economic growth tables. The Sohrabuddin issue may have been the last minute garnishing of the election campaign of 2007 but most observers recognise that the impressive BJP victory wouldn't have been possible had Modi not added an emotive appeal to a handsome list of tangible achievements.

Modi's biggest political failure has been his inability to unburden himself of the 'communal' tag he acquired after the 2002 riots. The image of Hindu Hridaysamrat is a heady one and assiduously promoted by Modi's fans on the internet. Unfortunately, this is an image that doesn't correspond with the priorities of today's electorate, as the BJP found to its cost after some of its supporters chose to tom-tom the shrill rabble-rousing of Varun Gandhi and the spirit of Hindu retribution in Kandhamal, Orissa. Additionally, most of the NDA constituents, with the sole exception of the Shiv Sena are uneasy with the image of Modi (though they have a convivial relationship with the man) and there is no surety the NDA wouldn't truncate further if Modi was anointed leader of the BJP.

Arguably, some of these losses could be offset if Modi brings with him a huge incremental vote, just as Atal Bihari Vajpayee did in 1996. Secularism has been shown to be eminently negotiable when confronted with the realities of the public mood. Unfortunately for Modi, the BJP of 2010 isn't the BJP of 1996 and riding the crest of an emotional Hindu upsurge. True, the mood could change abruptly and trigger a Modi wave. In its absence, Modi has to unburden himself of the 2002 baggage and appear as something different to the people of India. It is his tragedy that every step he takes in that direction is nullified by a secular onslaught centred on the memories of 2002 and the painting of Modi the 'Muslim killer'. The Amit Shah controversy may well turn out to be an elaborate piece of fiction but it has once again stereotyped Modi.


 

For Gadkari, the affable self-made businessman from Nagpur who was entrusted by the RSS to bring some order and purpose to a fractious and demoralised party, the dilemma over a role for Modi belongs to the distant future. His priority has been to secure a smooth succession to the post-L.K. Advani generation of leaders and to hold the BJP together for a time when the political climate is more conducive.

After seven months in office, Gadkari has made a hesitant beginning. On the positive side, he has somehow stopped bitter inter-personal rivalries from spilling into the open, prevented the RSS from micro-managing the party and initiated a capacity building programme that is based on management science. On the minus side, he has been personally drawn into controversy because of his penchant for colourful colloquialisms—some say he models himself after the Marathi film personality Dada Kondke—and for his inability to keep a tight rein on the state satraps. The latter failure saw the BJP being gazumped and made a fool of by Shibu Soren and his son Hemant in Jharkhand. Equally damaging was his inability to prevent the Reddy brothers from holding the Karnataka Government and Chief Minister B.S. Yedyurappa to ransom.

There is one feature of Gadkari that has endeared him to the party: his political integrity. He may have taken wrong steps or even erred in his judgment of people but it is accepted that his motives are not mala fide and devious. He hasn't let narrow caste or factional considerations get the better of political common sense.

Where Gadkari has made no impression as yet is in resolving the deeper existential dilemma of the BJP: how does the party confront the realities of an India that is no longer enamoured of identity politics?

In the 1990s, the BJP grew dramatically and came to occupy the centre stage of national politics because it had a Big Idea. Hindutva may not have been everyone's cup of tea but the idea did galvanise a tremendous amount of political energy in favour of the BJP. Today, the constant invocation to Hindu nationalism is yielding negative returns. The BJP knows it, as does the more worldly section of the RSS. Yet, there is a strange reluctance to face up to reality.

Taking comfort in archaic certitudes is ultimately a self-defeating proposition in a changing world. This may explain why a disproportionate amount of the BJP's energies are expended in either preaching to the converted or waging factional wars for a share of a shrinking political cake. Except in Karnataka, the BJP hasn't grown since 2004. It is in search of a leader and another Big Idea. Modi comes closest to offering some light at the end of the tunnel. Alone among the BJP leaders he inspires. This is why the BJP will cling to him, fight his battles, and why the Congress will go all out to demolish him in the eyes of the people.

Tehelka, Volume 7 (31), August 7, 2010

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Media: Plaintiff, prosecutor, judge


By Swapan Dasgupta
Next to playing God, contemporary journalism is built on the principles of infallibility and public gullibility. Journalists and pompous editors are disinclined to admit that, being humans, they too can make mistakes and commit errors of judgment. More crucially, a misplaced sense of self-esteem has proved inimical to a sense of contrition. Like love, journalism usually means never having to say you are sorry.
Of course, honest mistakes can and do happen. Since information is subject to human interventions and interpretation, the scope for being misled by ‘sources’ loath to see Yudhisthir as a role model, is enormous. This may explain why old-fashioned practitioners of the trade strove to highlight the important distinction between verified reality and unsubstantiated claims or allegations. Both have a place in reportage but only when it is clear which is which.
One of the casualties of the tabloid culture and popular TV is that scepticism (I’d even say cynicism) has been replaced by certitude. Like the old Bollywood potboilers, the media seems to be driven by a macabre desire to divide humankind into the good and the bad—with the media, naturally, on the side of their chosen good. This undaunted sense of partisanship (depending on political preferences, nationality and commerce) is compounded by some robust demonology that transforms the ‘bad’ into both the ‘ugly’ and the ‘evil’.
In a made-in-media society, this misplaced self-righteousness can have a hideously distorting effect on public discourse. Journalists are naturally dependant on non-attributable ‘sources’ for both insider information and perspectives. The problem, however, begins when the ‘sources’ start taking over the finished product. This seems to be happening in India with alarming frequency, especially now that the ‘sources’ have got it into their heads that they are not going to be held accountable for anything they dish out to news-hungry journalists in a fiercely competitive environment. The unending quest for the ‘exclusive’ has turned a large section of the media into stenographers.  It has become captives to official dictation.
In the past 48 hours, India has witnessed a fierce trial by media targeting the favourite ogre of the liberal consensus: the Government of Gujarat. The CBI has charged Amit Shah, one of Chief Minister Narendra Modi’s closest political associates, of a direct hand in the ‘encounter deaths’ of Sohrabuddin Sheikh, his wife Kauserbi and his associate Tulsiram Prajapati. It has alleged that Shah, who was Minister of state for Home till his resignation on Saturday, conspired to kill Sohrabuddin, not because he was a suspected terrorist intent on killing Modi—the police in Madhya Pradesh had recovered some 300 AK47s from his home—but because he was running a protection and extortion racket with his favourite police officers. It has been suggested that Shah targeted Sohrabuddin at the behest of some harassed marble traders of Rajasthan.  Prajapati and Kauserbi were on the other hand killed because they knew too much.
These are grave charges, particularly when levelled against a senior political functionary. It is almost akin to Home Minister P. Chidambaram or his Andhra Pradesh counterpart being formally charged with organising an ‘encounter’ killing of the CPI(Maoist) politburo member Azad and ‘journalist’ Pandey. If these charges are upheld by the courts they would undeniably constitute a damning indictment of the state government.
For the moment, however, the CBI’s voluminous chargesheet is at the level of accusations. Shah hasn’t yet presented his defence, and nor has the investigation been endorsed by the Supreme Court which is monitoring the case. On the contrary, the BJP has charged the CBI of being a compliant arm of the Congress.
Modi’s public proclamation of Shah’s innocence and the BJP’s decision to throw its political weight rests on the belief that Shah has been targeted on flimsy grounds, perhaps as a prelude to a full-scale legal assault on Modi.
The BJP leaders who have examined the evidence say that the case against Shah is based on three substantive points. First, it is claimed that Shah was in constant telephonic contact with D.G. Vanzara, the police officer charged with the ‘encounter’ killings. However, there is nothing in the records to indicate that on the days Sohrabuddin and Prajapati were killed, Shah spoke to either Vanzara or the other policemen charged with the killings.
Secondly, the CBI has relied on the testimony of Raman Patel and Dasrath Patel, two ‘history-sheeters’ who claimed that they met Shah to get cases against them under the Gujarat act against anti-socials removed. In that meeting, Shah is apparently said to have told these complete strangers that Sohrabuddin had to be eliminated for political reasons.
The BJP claims that there are no cases under the anti-social behaviour law against the two Patels and neither is there any record of any meeting of Shah with them. Moreover, as is well known in Gujarat, Shah is extremely taciturn and not given to boasting.
Finally, the CBI has relied on the testimony of a jailed policeman who claims that a phone call Vanjara received (said to be on the day Kauserbi disappeared) was “presumably” from Shah. There are apparently no records to substantiate the claim.
The weight of the evidence against Shah will be assessed by the trial court. What is clear is that the CBI charges don’t amount to an open and shut case which can be decided by a media combing the roles of prosecutor, judge, jury and executioner. There have been enough instances of tall claims made by authorities being effortlessly punctured in courts. However, since the legal process is lengthy, the mismatch between reality and claim rarely get reported. Media certitude is frequently shown to be baseless but who remembers what was said or printed three years ago?
This may be why it is rewarding to play stenographer to those who are politically on top today. Tomorrow’s flip-flop is another day. 

Pillai was right to tell all about ISI (July 18, 2010)

By Swapan Dasgupta

Those who were at the venue of the failed Agra summit eight years ago may recall the enormous hype surrounding the event and the sense of anti-climax that followed the inability of the participants to come up with even a goody-goody joint statement. They will also recollect the inevitable blame game which began the moment it became clear that President Musharraf would have to return to Islamabad without anything tangible to show for his undoubted flamboyance.

From the Pakistan side, the responsibility for transforming the media jamboree was pinned on two Indian ministers. First, the then Information and Broadcasting Minister Sushma Swaraj was blamed for an innocuous sound-bite to the media where she omitted Jammu and Kashmir from the list of subjects that were being addressed. Secondly, the blame for thwarting a draft agreement which the Pakistani side was supremely confident would get through was attached to an "invisible hand", a guarded reference to the then Home Minister L.K. Advani, allegedly the leading 'hawk' in the Cabinet.

The Indians too had their fall guy, except that the identity of the 'bad guy' ran along expected lines. The party pooper, according to ubiquitous 'sources' was none other than Musharraf. The General was blamed for souring the atmosphere of the talks with his robust answer to a question on Kashmir at a breakfast interaction with the media which was telecast live on Pakistani channels. Subsequently, he was blamed for attempting quick-fix solutions to problems that had defied resolution for decades.

The meeting of Foreign Ministers which ended last Friday afternoon was about as inconclusive as the Agra summit, but minus the same amount of pre-meeting hype. There was an expectation that the so-called 'spirit of Thimpu' would linger and be bolstered by another stiff booster dose in Islamabad. Predictably, much of the optimism was fuelled by the fast-growing 'conflict resolution' industry which has convinced itself and their gullible promoters that their rosy assessment of the future corresponds with market reality. But high hopes were also nurtured by a Prime Minister who has made the restoration of Indo-Pak bonhomie his personal theme song for the UPA-2. It doesn't matter that many of Manmohan Singh's Cabinet colleagues don't believe that the theme song 'aman ki asha' will make to the top of the Indian charts. Being a peacenik in the age of low intensity warfare is trendy.

For this gush-gush, love-thy-neighbour brigade, there was one villain of the unhappy Islamabad summit involving S.M. Krishna and Shah Mehmood Qureshi. His name was G.K. Pillai, a man who wasn't even in Islamabad to contest his equation with Hafiz Mohammed Sayeed of LeT notoriety. Two days before Krishna took off for Islamabad, Pillai, who also happens to be the Union Home Secretary, called the media and divulged crucial details of George Coleman Headley's interaction with India and US interrogators.

The transcripts, predictably, were explosive and suggested that the 26/11 attack on Mumbai was a carefully planned, joint ISI-LeT operation. Headley identified the chilling voices of the 'handlers' who had barked out execution orders of the hostages and even gave the names of other ISI operatives who had worked behind the scenes to spill innocent blood.

The public disclosure of what was known by top Home Ministry officials set the proverbial cat among the pigeons. The common-sense question that was asked by people was straight-forward: what do we discuss with a neighbouring country that is hell bent on exporting terror? It may be a simple question and not adequately profound to merit the attention of the conflict-resolution wallahs, but it was this question that made it impossible for Krishna to not be persistent in asking Pakistan: what are you doing about those who have been implicated?

Arguably, Krishna could have discussed what Pakistan hoped would be the agenda had Pillai not revealed too much to the media. To that extent, Pillai is indeed the man who made things awkward for Pakistan. He was indeed the party-pooper in Islamabad.

However, the suggestion that Pillai need not have revealed the Headley interrogation just prior to the Islamabad meeting rests on a very dangerous premise. It presupposes that India, as the big brother, must bend over backwards to accommodate the sensibilities of the younger sibling. In other words, the normalcy-at-any-cost approach must be based on self-censorship and overlooking the past.

Pakistan had calculated that the issue of terrorism had been firewalled as a Home Ministry issue and delinked from the composite dialogue which would focus on Kashmir (where Pakistan feels it is on a moral high after the recent stone-throwing upsurge) and Siachen. Pillai's intervention upset Pakistani calculations and it is not surprising that he is sought to be made the fall guy by the liberal media. Without saying so, the blame-Pillai brigade has tacitly admitted that the Indian people don't need to know the full details of the extent of Pakistani involvement in the carnage because that would derail the 'peace processes. They also confirmed that even Pakistan's well-wishers don't expect Pakistan to take any action against the murderous conspirators. What they omit to appreciate is the self-evident truth that any understanding based on concealment and duplicity is certain to be very fragile.

The Islamabad talks ended in acrimony and bitterness, not because Pillai jumped the gun or Qureshi was tactless. Like in Agra, there was an enormous gap in the positions of both countries. For the moment they seem unbridgeable but that situation isn't going to be permanent. Both sides need to engage frequently, at different levels, but without concealing their own fears and suspicions of each other. It is unrealistic to believe that such a deep-rooted acrimony can be lessened and a mutually beneficial bilateral relationship established without building trust. Unfortunately, very little of this exists and last week's faltering in Islamabad was yet another reality check.

Sunday Pioneer, July 18, 2010

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Face the questions (July 23, 2010)

The Prime Minister's role is becoming ceremonial in India

By Swapan Dasgupta

Once upon a time, India was inclined to replicate the institutions of Westminster. Tragically, one of Albion's great parliamentary traditions that failed to be transplanted into the dustbowl of Delhi was Prime Minister's Questions, the weekly ritual that compels the head of the executive to respond to questions, both legitimate and plain insolent. Although known to occasionally degenerate into a puerile, public school spat, the greatest virtue of PMQ is to hold the Prime Minister accountable for the totality of his government. The fear of being embarrassed or outsmarted on the floor of the House by either a sharp-tongued Leader of the Opposition or a persistent backbencher has forced British Prime Ministers to be attentive to the quality of governance and the integrity of ministers. The PMQ has made it impossible for a Prime Minister to duck issues: he is obliged to explain and justify.

In recent months, India is experiencing a system of governance that appears to have absolved the Prime Minister of any responsibility for either the actions of his Cabinet colleagues or wider developments. His role is increasingly becoming ceremonial.

Take two issues that have agitated the country over the past seven days. First, there was the meeting of foreign ministers of India and Pakistan in Islamabad, a summit that concluded in bitterness and acrimony. Restoring normal relations between the two countries has been one of Prime Minister Manmohan Singh's most significant initiatives, comparable to his gritty perusal of the Indo-US nuclear accord in the first term of the United Progressive Alliance Government. It is well known that Singh has persevered with trying to overcome the legacy of the 26/11 attacks on Mumbai, despite the known scepticism of many of his Cabinet colleagues. Under the circumstances, a Prime Ministerial intervention pointing to a possible way out of the stalemate and near-breakdown of talks was entirely in order. Instead, what the nation got was Singh complete silence and an ugly spat between the Home and External Affairs ministries.

Secondly, there was the horrific train accident involving the Uttar Banga Express in the early hours of last Monday that led to the deaths of nearly 60 passengers. The collision, coming in the wake of a string of accidents that indicated dangerous levels of negligence and incompetence, has led to a clamour for the resignation of Railway Minister Mamata Banerjee. It has been claimed, and perhaps with good reason, that Mamata is too preoccupied with preparations for next year's Assembly elections in West Bengal. Her commitment to the job of looking after the ailing railway network and her competence has been called into question by both the Opposition and large sections of civil society.

These are grave charges and have a bearing on the reputation of the entire UPA, not to mention India's most important mass transport system. A word of assurance from the Prime Minister that widespread public concerns will be speedily addressed would have been helped lower the political temperature. Once again there was not a whisper from Race Course Road. Indeed, Singh has made his position so aloof that the list of press releases from the Prime Minister's Office website does not contain even a ritualistic message of condolence. The man who thought it important to congratulate Saina Nehwal on winning the Indonesian Open Badminton Championship and the Indian cricket team for its success in the Asia Cup had not a word of comfort for the relatives of the 60 or so passengers who died so cruelly.

In taking note of the Prime Minister's hands-off approach, the idea is not to charge him with either dereliction of duty or callousness. It can hardly be the case that Singh, who has access to the best channels of information the country can provide, doesn't have informed views on grave matters of state. His silence on most matters—barring the economy and aspects of foreign policy—isn't born of indifference or even a management style centred on total delegation of responsibility to individual ministers. It is wilful and may well be based on the calculation that a large measure of detachment is the only realistic way to continue at the crease.

The assumption may well be correct, although it ignores the large dose of moral authority he possesses. However, in making a fetish of his relative lack of political authority in a dispensation where the final word rests with the UPA Chairperson, the Prime Minister has encouraged confusion over policy and a state of drift that would have been politically damaging had the Opposition Bharatiya Janata Party been a purposeful entity. Singh's inability to take the final call on major issues of governance is costing the country dearly and negating some of the optimism surrounding India's emergence as a global player of consequence.

The approach to the heightened Maoist insurgency is a case in point. The UPA Government, it would seem, is caught between two sharply divergent approaches—one articulated by Home Minister P.Chidambaram and the other by Congress General Secretary Digvijay Singh whose actions make it appear he has the tacit support of Sonia Gandhi. The issue is not so much which approach is more desirable, a conclusion that depends on perceptions of end goals. What is alarming is that the confusion over policy has led to operational disarray and given the Maoists an invaluable window of opportunity.

The inconsistencies of counter-insurgency mirror the UPA Government's inability to strike a workable balance between conflicting economic goals. The Finance Minister, for example, has made reduction of the fiscal deficit one of his priorities. The removal of subsidies on petrol and their reduction from the controlled prices of diesel, kerosene and cooking gas cylinders followed this logic. Yet, simultaneously, the Sonia Gandhi-led National Advisory Council, comprising activists of various descriptions, has deemed that the Right to Food programme be made far more ambitious than was initially envisaged by the Government. If one arm of the regime is stressing fiscal discipline, another arm has instructed the Government to ease the purse strings of welfare. The Prime Minister's instincts are in favour of what the Finance Ministry advocates but he is unable to tame the political assault of those who feel that the state must play the part of Lady Bountiful.

Managing contradictions is said to be the leitmotif of a coalition government, especially one where some of the partners have a narrow cash-and-carry priority. For six years, Singh has successfully meandered his way through uncharted territory, reaping the windfall of an entrepreneurial revolution that has somehow deftly negotiated state inefficiency. However, the system is creaking under the pulls and pressures of political expediency and could well burst at the seams. The upgradation of infrastructure has been mired in corruption and left the country underwhelmed; the Commonwealth Games which drained the exchequer of nearly Rs 30,000 crore of much-needed resources is caught up in scandal and mismanagement; and inflation is making the otherwise contended middle classes restive.

There is a need for some purposeful leadership that plays more than a symbolic role. Unfortunately, Singh never assumed or was never allowed to assume that role. A cynical Congress, it would seem, is content enjoying the state of drift till a 40-something leader who has never sullied his hands in the affairs of state comes to the rescue. At this rate, however, when Rahul Gandhi steps into his ancestral shoes, as the Congress has deemed he must, he will need a crash course in disaster management.

The Telegraph, July 23, 2010

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Taslima’s deportation would be India’s shame

By Swapan Dasgupta

In a month from now, on August 17 to be precise, the newly-opened Terminal 3 of Delhi airport could witness a disagreeable sight calculated to shame all Indians: the deportation of the Bangladesh-born writer Taslima Nasreen, presently living in Delhi.

Earlier this year, when her residence permit (issued first in 2003) was extended by a niggardly six months, the Home Ministry informed Taslima that this was the final extension and she must leave the country by August 17. She could, of course, re-apply for a residence permit at any Indian Embassy overseas but there was no surety it would be granted. Senior officials have told me in private that the basis of the decision is completely "political".

That Taslima can be a damned nuisance for politicians is undeniable. A writer who can best be described as feminist and secular-humanist (in the Western sense), she has angered conservative Muslims with her scepticism of faith, irreverence and candid approach to sexuality. In the Indian context this isn't unusual and Taslima has things in common with the atheistic, Dravidian rationalism of 'Periyar' E.V. Ramaswami Naicker, a man venerated by the DMK. But whereas Periyar confined his rationalism to an assault on the Brahmanical religion, Taslima has been preoccupied with Islam and its theology—not surprising because Muslims constitute a simple majority of the Bengali-speaking universe.

Taslima's critique of Islam and particularly Islamic dogmatism has been relentless but never outlandish, even though it touched many raw nerves among the believers. In 1991-92, militant Islamists mounted a vituperative campaign against her in Bangladesh after two volumes of her essays became bestsellers. Her works had enough literary merit to be awarded the Ananda Purashkar, India's most prestigious prize for Bengali writing, in 1992.

The irony is that despite her literary credentials, Taslima today finds it difficult to get her writings published in both Bangladesh and West Bengal. Many booksellers have been threatened for her stocking her writings and in this year's Kolkata Book Fair, self-appointed vigilantes—perhaps the same one who organised a violent bandh in 2007 against her living in the city—tried to make the occasion Taslima-free. Even those who published Hindi translations of her columns have developed cold feet.

The comparisons between Taslima and painter M.F. Hussein whose paintings are constantly targeted and who had to flee India, are striking. Hussein's plight outraged the intelligentsia. Tragically, the same people haven't up for Taslima. Even double-standards carry an eloquent message: All religions are sacred but some are more sacred than others.

If self-publicity was the only thing driving Taslima, she would probably have been glad to escape this tension and set herself up as an exotic exile in Paris—where her views on the anti-women bias of Islam would draw an appreciative audience. After all, she travels on a Swedish passport which was graciously given to her after Bangladesh withdrew her citizenship.

Taslima is unique in that she wants to live in India because it provides her creative nourishment. She seeks Indian nationality, views Kolkata as 'home' but is agreeable to living in Delhi till the dust settles. So far the authorities have grudgingly given her a toehold in India. In a month's time even her nominal status as an intellectual refugee is set to be undone.

On Novermber 28, 2007, Pranab Mukherjee had assured the Lok Sabha that "India has never refused shelter to those who had come and sought our protection…This civilisational heritage, which is now the government's policy, will continue, and India will provide shelter to Ms. Nasreen," Five months later, replying to an overseas Indian's plea on her behalf, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh conceded "Taslima has been a victim of the politics of hate that a small section of extremists…are now pursuing." Citing the sanctuary given to the Dalai Lama, Manmohan Singh gave an assurance: "We recognise Taslima Nasreen's right to remain in a country of her choice, viz India…"

The PM was writing as an enlightened man of letters. Now, as a politician, he faces the sorry dismal prospect of not only having to eat his words but worse, mocking at the idea of an India "where the mind is without fear…"

Sunday Times of India, July 18, 2010


 

Taslima’s deportation would be India’s shame

By Swapan Dasgupta

In a month from now, on August 17 to be precise, the newly-opened Terminal 3 of Delhi airport could witness a disagreeable sight calculated to shame all Indians: the deportation of the Bangladesh-born writer Taslima Nasreen, presently living in Delhi.

Earlier this year, when her residence permit (issued first in 2003) was extended by a niggardly six months, the Home Ministry informed Taslima that this was the final extension and she must leave the country by August 17. She could, of course, re-apply for a residence permit at any Indian Embassy overseas but there was no surety it would be granted. Senior officials have told me in private that the basis of the decision is completely "political".

That Taslima can be a damned nuisance for politicians is undeniable. A writer who can best be described as feminist and secular-humanist (in the Western sense), she has angered conservative Muslims with her scepticism of faith, irreverence and candid approach to sexuality. In the Indian context this isn't unusual and Taslima has things in common with the atheistic, Dravidian rationalism of 'Periyar' E.V. Ramaswami Naicker, a man venerated by the DMK. But whereas Periyar confined his rationalism to an assault on the Brahmanical religion, Taslima has been preoccupied with Islam and its theology—not surprising because Muslims constitute a simple majority of the Bengali-speaking universe.

Taslima's critique of Islam and particularly Islamic dogmatism has been relentless but never outlandish, even though it touched many raw nerves among the believers. In 1991-92, militant Islamists mounted a vituperative campaign against her in Bangladesh after two volumes of her essays became bestsellers. Her works had enough literary merit to be awarded the Ananda Purashkar, India's most prestigious prize for Bengali writing, in 1992.

The irony is that despite her literary credentials, Taslima today finds it difficult to get her writings published in both Bangladesh and West Bengal. Many booksellers have been threatened for her stocking her writings and in this year's Kolkata Book Fair, self-appointed vigilantes—perhaps the same one who organised a violent bandh in 2007 against her living in the city—tried to make the occasion Taslima-free. Even those who published Hindi translations of her columns have developed cold feet.

The comparisons between Taslima and painter M.F. Hussein whose paintings are constantly targeted and who had to flee India, are striking. Hussein's plight outraged the intelligentsia. Tragically, the same people haven't up for Taslima. Even double-standards carry an eloquent message: All religions are sacred but some are more sacred than others.

If self-publicity was the only thing driving Taslima, she would probably have been glad to escape this tension and set herself up as an exotic exile in Paris—where her views on the anti-women bias of Islam would draw an appreciative audience. After all, she travels on a Swedish passport which was graciously given to her after Bangladesh withdrew her citizenship.

Taslima is unique in that she wants to live in India because it provides her creative nourishment. She seeks Indian nationality, views Kolkata as 'home' but is agreeable to living in Delhi till the dust settles. So far the authorities have grudgingly given her a toehold in India. In a month's time even her nominal status as an intellectual refugee is set to be undone.

On Novermber 28, 2007, Pranab Mukherjee had assured the Lok Sabha that "India has never refused shelter to those who had come and sought our protection…This civilisational heritage, which is now the government's policy, will continue, and India will provide shelter to Ms. Nasreen," Five months later, replying to an overseas Indian's plea on her behalf, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh conceded "Taslima has been a victim of the politics of hate that a small section of extremists…are now pursuing." Citing the sanctuary given to the Dalai Lama, Manmohan Singh gave an assurance: "We recognise Taslima Nasreen's right to remain in a country of her choice, viz India…"

The PM was writing as an enlightened man of letters. Now, as a politician, he faces the sorry dismal prospect of not only having to eat his words but worse, mocking at the idea of an India "where the mind is without fear…"

Sunday Times of India, July 18, 2010


 

Friday, July 16, 2010

THE HINDU QUOTIENT (July 16, 2010)

By Swapan Dasgupta

An intriguing feature of the chatter that preceded the visit of External Affairs Minister S.M. Krishna was the apparent bewilderment of Pakistani commentators at India's continuing preoccupation with terrorism. It was suggested by well-meaning Pakistanis with an interest in the process of normalisation that the timing of the James Coleman Headley interrogation reports was wilfully mischievous. Why, it was said, would an Indian minister engage with Pakistan if the objective was to delve into a past tragedy?

The belief that Hindus, blessed with a very feeble sense of history, are incapable of sustained interest in something that is already some 20 months old is playing a role in shaping Pakistani perceptions of its large neighbour. There is a definite feeling that the great Hindu quest for lofty magnanimity can be manipulated in a diplomatic game.

This perception has a basis in contemporary history. In his autobiography published in 2000, Indira Gandhi's economic adviser P.N. Dhar argued that India showed exaggerated understanding towards a beleaguered Pakistan during the Simla negotiations in 1972. P.N. Haksar's plea that it would be unwise to repeat the follies of the Treaty of Versailles (1919) was bought by an otherwise hard-nosed Indira Gandhi. Dhar also revealed that it was a touching concern for the political future of Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto that deterred India from incorporating the permanence of the Line of Control in Kashmir into the Simla Pact.

In hindsight, the spirit of forgive-and-forget hasn't paid India any meaningful dividends in its relations with Pakistan. Yet, what is truly astonishing is the persistence of appeasement as a diplomatic strategy. In 1997, the short-lived United Front government did India a colossal disservice by attempting to pursue I.K. Gujral's doctrine of asymmetry in Indo-Pakistan relations. In ordinary language the Gujral doctrine implied that as elder brother of a large subcontinental family, India must always show generosity and indulge the more spirited younger sibling. The UF Government didn't survive long enough for this policy to be played out fully. Nevertheless, it was long enough for some over-zealous appeasers quietly dismantle India's intelligence and strategic assets within Pakistan as part of a confidence-building measure. Predictably, there was no reciprocal move by Pakistan to dissolve ISI networks within India.

The belief that India can be beguiled by sweet talk, flattery and exemplary hospitality into letting down its guard has become a part of Pakistan's strategic thinking. There is enough evidence to point to laxity along the LoC in the aftermath of Atal Bihari Vajpayee's bus trip to Lahore in 1999 which enabled General Musharraf to plan his audacious military strike in Kargil. A habitually bitten India, it would seem, isn't thrice shy.

A possible reason behind giving Islamabad the benefit of doubt on too many occasions is the rationalisation that Pakistan is schizophrenic and blessed with multiple power centres, each acting autonomously. The 'good' Pakistan, comprising civil society, literati, media and the beleaguered small nationalities, is thought to be constantly at loggerheads with the 'bad' Pakistan which is made up of the military establishment, the crazy religious fundamentalists and the civilian clientele of the cantonments. The self-perpetuating seminar circuit has forever advised India's policy-makers to be supportive of the 'good' Pakistan against the 'bad' Pakistan. 'Don't do anything precipitate to strengthen the hands of the military' is an advice well-meaning Indians have been repeatedly given by well-meaning Pakistan.

Today, this civilian army of the good has been advising Indians that it won't to do to continue harking back to the past, to the horrific events of 26/11. 'We are both victims of terrorism' is a common refrain of Pakistanis.

That Pakistan has suffered grievously at the hands of crazy suicide bombers and wild desperados is undeniable. Hardly a week passes without a fresh horrific bombing in a crowded bazar, a hotel or an army camp. Even the ISI hasn't been spared. Compared to Pakistan, India does appear to have got away lightly. Yet, there is a crucial difference in the jihadi terrorism in the two countries, and one that can't be brushed off lightly. Pakistan's domestic terrorism is largely a consequence of the larger turbulence within Islam, the war in Afghanistan and the interplay of both these with the Pakistani security apparatus. In India, however, apart from the Maoist depredations, terrorism has been largely a Pakistani export and a part of the low-intensity war that began with General Zia-ul Haq.

The importance of the 26/11 attacks in Mumbai lay not merely in the sheer scale of the operation. The capture of Ajmal Kasab and the subsequent unmasking of Headley by the US authorities have made it possible for the world to gleam the scale of the ISI's involvement in the attacks. Had Kasab not been captured alive and Headley not been outed, Pakistan would persisted in its steadfast denial of any involvement. Today, it has become untenable for the Pakistan Government to maintain the fiction that India is laying the blame for the alienation of its own minorities at the door of the neighbour.

It's the unviability of Pakistan's protestations of innocence that has prompted the spirited plea to forget the past and start afresh on a clean slate. It's a position that is difficult to sell within India, a reason why Prime Minister Manmohan Singh has had to control his instinctive desire for bonhomie at any cost. The Headley revelations have also made it impossible for India to firewall 26/11 as a Home Ministry issue, delinked from the concerns of civilised diplomacy.

Pakistan still believes that a protracted spell of diplomatic filibustering plus the embarrassment of the upsurge in the Kashmir Valley will wear India down. For the moment, Krishna has indicated that this time India will not be a pushover. The joint declaration (or even its absence) will reveal whether there is any ground to believe that India is finally allowing the lessons from the past to shape its journey into the future.

Deccan Chronicle/Asian Age, July 16, 2010

http://www.deccanchronicle.com/dc-comment/hindu-quotient-210


 


 

Thursday, July 08, 2010

An agreeable country (July 9, 2010)

Class wars and coalitions

By Swapan Dasgupta

Pieces of apparently non-political trivia can tell you more about the state of a nation than many parliamentary debates put together. Earlier this week, there was a minor flutter in London over parenting responsibilities. A well-to-do German couple living in the leafy Dulwich Village of south-east London was warned by the headmaster of their children’s fee-paying school that he would be obliged to report them to the local social services department for what seemed to him a grave lapse. The parents had apparently let their two children, aged eight and five, cycle each day to school without being accompanied by an adult. “We wanted,” claimed the father, “to create the simple freedom of our childhood.”

It is not that the children had to negotiate main roads with heavy traffic for their mile-long journey. Their route was relatively safe and there were lollipop ladies present at the only crossing near the school. Yet, the headmaster, who must have imbibed the expectations of the Social Services, felt this was a case of parental dereliction. Small children, it was expected, had to be accompanied. The alternative was akin to child abuse.

This trivial incident, which was gleefully picked up by the media, would have constituted yet another example of an intrusive state — something to momentarily invoke the ire of right-wing libertarians and conservatives and then forgotten. Not unnaturally, it caught the attention of London’s mayor, Boris Johnson, the enfant terrible of the Conservative Party who seems intent on showing up the rest of the party as boring, careerist fuddy-duddies. “In this age of air-bagged, mollycoddled, infantilised over-regulation,” he wrote in The Daily Telegraph, “it can make my spirits soar to discover that out there in the maquis of modern Britain there is still some freedom fighter who is putting up resistance against the encroachments of the state...” Lauding the parents, he added, with characteristic verbosity, that they “have taken the sword of common sense to the great bloated encephalopathic sacred cow of elf and safety.”

Johnson may have been guilty of some polemical exaggeration, but the gist of his rhetorical flourish would have struck a chord among many Britons who are convinced that the boundaries of the welfare state have been over-extended. The process that began with the Liberal Party’s budget of 1906, and got a fillip with the Labour Party’s famous victory of 1945, has reached an undesirable climax. There is hardly an area of civil life in Britain that is not governed by local, national or European regulation. From child-rearing and schooling to determining whether an aged person is fit to stay at home or be sent to ‘care’, individual discretion appears to have been banished. The ban on smoking in enclosed spaces has led to the closure of nearly 2,000 pubs; the legislation against fox-hunting in the countryside has led to the encroachment of urban foxes into people’s homes; race-relations legislation has forced self-censorship; and there are repeated moves originating in Brussels to standardize the consistency of cheese.

The irony of over-regulation is that it originated in good intentions. In 1945, a triumphant Labour Party rightly felt that the old ways of Britain had to be changed. It began with giving citizens complete, free access to education (including higher education) and health. In addition, at a time when Britain had near-full employment, it was felt that the state should take the responsibility for preventing destitution. Consequently, unemployment benefits, old-age pensions and disability allowances came into place.

Unfortunately, once it starts rolling, the machinery of statism starts acquiring a momentum of its own. How can a child, it was asked, take full advantage of schooling if its home environment isn’t conducive? How can slum removal be successful if there isn’t alternative, affordable housing? How can a child suffer if the parents are unemployed? How can pensioners cope with the prohibitive costs of heating in winter? Should the unemployed be deprived of holidays? Shouldn’t single mothers be given the right to preferential housing? If government housing isn’t available, shouldn’t local authorities rent private homes for the needy?

None of these questions is irrelevant. But the problem lay in the fact that to address these imperatives, Britain spawned a gargantuan bureaucracy that, in the process, lost sight of all social objectives. The huge National Health Service, it now emerges, has engaged more managers than doctors, and 30 of these apparatchiks are paid more than the prime minister. Earlier this week, the secretary of state for communities and local government, Eric Pickles, a tough-talking, working-class Tory from the north of England, suggested that it was about time people started asking whether some of this bureaucracy was at all necessary: “What does an audience development officer do? Is a ‘cheerleading development officer’ what taxpayers want? One council is even advertising for someone to spin for their bins last week. I wonder whether their residents actually want a ‘communications waste strategy officer’ or whether they’d prefer a few more bin men.”

Undeniably, Pickles was picking on the absurdities of a system that has turned roguish. But his assessment wasn’t a caricature. A senior diplomat in the British high commission in Delhi told me last month that there was a multiplicity of quasi-government bodies, including tourism bodies and regional investment boards, which had set up shop in Delhi, paying fancy salaries to their officers and working at cross purposes.

In its bid to build compassionate capitalism, Britain forgot to ask itself a fundamental question: can we afford this elaborate nanny state?

The answer is: clearly not. Public expenditure accounts for nearly 48 per cent of the British GDP and the fiscal deficit is hovering around 12 per cent of the GDP. The country is already grossly over-taxed and it is unlikely that squeezing the taxpayer more will be beneficial. Britain is living well beyond its means and must shed weight. As one commentator put it, Britain must be prepared to accept that it can no longer afford paid unemployment.

This is the context of the furious class war that Britain is likely to witness in the coming months as the Conservative-Liberal Democratic government cuts public expenditure by at least 25 per cent. Unlike Margaret Thatcher, who had to take on the organized might of the trades unions in her battle to “roll back the frontiers of the state” in the 1980s, David Cameron faces no significant threat of street protests and strikes. His threat comes from the misgivings of his Liberal Democratic coalition partner, which has been temporarily placated by the sop of a referendum to be held next summer on replacing the first-past-the-post electoral system with the alternative vote method of electing MPs.

For Cameron, the real challenge is to convince British voters that the country has been debilitated by an unaffordable, bloated state. Yet, the issue is not confined to managing huge savings in public expenditure. Cameron has to preside over another ambitious management of decline and re-forge the creative and entrepreneurial instincts of a nation (or nations) that has lost its raison d’être. The next few years could be momentous for Britain. An unprepared political class has been forced by circumstances to set in motion an upheaval that involves the fundamental reinvention of the kingdom.

Britain remains an agreeable country. Its ability to endure economic chemotherapy will determine whether it continues to remain jolly.

The Telegraph, July  9, 2010

Saturday, July 03, 2010

Ominous signs from Kashmir Valley (July 4, 2010)

By Swapan Dasgupta

At a time when the Kashmir Valley has reverted to its status as a persisting trouble spot, it may seem churlish to target Chief Minister Omar Abdullah. Political recriminations, it is accepted by most right-thinking Indians, can await a moment when things are relatively more settled.

Unfortunately, it would seem that the third generation Abdullah — who, like his father, has a considerable fan following outside the troubled State — doesn’t see things in the same way. In a statement from Srinagar last Friday, Omar argued that “the aspirations of the people of Jammu & Kashmir cannot be assuaged only by development, good governance and economic packages but needs a political solution”. Pleading the case for more autonomy, the Chief Minister added, “But I am not averse to move beyond it, if there is a solution other than autonomy that is acceptable to both India and Pakistan and meets the aspirations of the people of Jammu & Kashmir.”


Whether Omar is hinting his tacit support for the opposition PDP’s espousal of “dual sovereignty” involving India and Pakistan is unclear. What is interesting, however, that the earlier belief, mouthed by many well-meaning Indian liberals, that a long dose of purposeful, good governance can bring an alienated Kashmir Valley back to the constitutional mainstream, has been challenged by the Chief Minister. The significance of this assertion should not be under-estimated, not least because it loosely corresponds to the position taken by some of the 'moderate' sections of the Hurriyat Conference.


Omar’s assertion is calculated to inflict a great deal of collateral damage on another, well-entrenched position. Since 1948, the Nehruvian consensus has proceeded on the assumption that Jammu & Kashmir warranted exceptional treatment which would be guaranteed by the special provisions of Article 370. Although the parameters of this regional autonomy have been diluted, first in 1953 and then following the Indira Gandhi-Sheikh Abdullah understanding in 1974, the special status of Kashmir was protected by the Constitution. This meant that the State could either inch towards greater integration with the rest of India or regress into greater uniqueness. Whatever the to and fro movement of regional autonomy, it was believed that Article 370 would preserve Jammu & Kashmir as an integral part of the Indian Union. Now, Omar, a loyal ally of the Congress, has struck a hammer blow at one of the load-bearing pillars of the Nehruvian consensus.


The ‘political solution’ that the Chief Minister is alluding to is an euphemism for an understanding between India and Pakistan over the status of Jammu & Kashmir. Despite the presence of Kashmir on the dhobi list of the composite dialogue, it has been apparent for long that there is absolutely no meeting ground between New Delhi and Islamabad. India has maintained that Kashmir is an internal problem while Pakistan is equally clear that there is a liberation struggle being waged in a ‘disputed’ area whose future should be settled by a referendum.


It is conceivable that the Manmohan Singh Government has modified India’s earlier refusal to talk the internal affairs of Jammu & Kashmir with Pakistan. If so, this is something that the people of India, not to speak of Parliament, are clearly unaware of. Whatever the reality, Omar’s statement is certain to set the cat among the pigeons. Pakistan and its proxies within India have now secured an extra handle to press the case for the legitimisation of Islamabad’s ‘moral and political’ support for the azadi movement in Jammu & Kashmir.


It would be prudent to recognise that in the event the civil unrest in the Kashmir Valley is not brought under control fast and effectively, the issue of ‘dual sovereignty’ will gain currency. At an international level, Pakistan has already successfully sold the West its self-serving thesis that peace in Afghanistan (at least the termination of the Al Qaeda threat) is substantially dependant on the concessions it secures in Kashmir. India has so far managed to withstand international pressure by successfully leveraging its economic clout. However, there was also the fact that Kashmir was plodding gently along the path of democracy, development and a half-decent Government. Coupled with the greater sensitivity of the Indian security forces to ‘human rights’ issues, there was a marked disinclination of the West to draw a moral equivalence between a democratic India and a dysfunctional Pakistan.


According to the logic of Western diplomacy, Pakistan received bucketfuls of aid but India was someone you could do business with. India’s implied superior status may evaporate if the country is caught in a pincer movement of Left-wing extremism and Muslim separatism. If India isn’t to go back to the days of the first Clinton Administration when the very accession of Jammu & Kashmir was sought to be questioned, the Centre must ensure that peace returns to the State. Redeploying some of the forces is a small price to pay for preventing ‘dual sovereignty’ to make its appearance on the international agenda.


For long, India’s policy-makers have proceeded on the assumption that people are prone to rational political behaviour. In other words, it has been assumed that given a choice between a economically buoyant India and an imploding Pakistan torn between feudal decadence and Islamist lunacy, the people of Jammu & Kashmir would quietly prefer the status quo. Obviously this hasn’t happened.


The implications are disturbing. Either Omar is an inept administrator who has taken to equating personal failings with systemic failure. Alternatively, the hold of religious separatism is far more deep-rooted in the Kashmir Valley than was widely believed. For India’s sake, we can only hope that the disturbances in the Valley are all the fault of Omar Abdullah.

Sunday Pioneer, July 4, 2010

History can be sexy and the historian rockstar (July 4, 2010)

By Swapan Dasgupta

Novelists and poets have traditionally provided much-needed fodder to gossip columnists. Their little quirks, eccentricities and bohemianism have added spice to the more predictable tidbits concerning politicians, film stars and the category that has come to be known as “footballers’ wives”. As an enthusiastic consumer of tittle-tattle, it is interesting that there is a new category of people who have made it to the celebrity lists: historians.

The idea of a dreary professor who spends his days burrowing through the archives or slyly ogling the skimpily-clad undergraduate, making it to the gossip columns is, of course, absurd. Oxbridge life, as Rab Butler, a successful Conservative politician who went on to become Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, put it, was too mired in “endless Port and dignity” to warrant popular attention.

Fortunately, the better class of historian tends to be more exciting than the average, better-paid economist. AJP Taylor, the history don at Magdalen, Oxford, was unquestionably one of the most stimulating chroniclers of the past. Yet, he was passed over for the prized post of Regius Professor at the ancient university because he dabbled too much in the popular media including, horror of horrors, television. Had Taylor been alive today, he would have been a permanent fixture of London high society — by which I don’t mean Russian tycoons or cricket impresarios who drive around Buckingham Gate in Ferraris.

Fortunately, Taylor’s inheritance hasn’t been squandered. In the last few years, historians who invariably have the ‘right-wing’ prefix attached to them have become regulars on the society pages. There is Andrew Roberts, whose masterly studies of Lord Salisbury and Lord Halifax (Indians knew him as Lord Irwin, the Viceroy who invited the ‘half-naked fakir’ to the palace on Raisina Hill) are well worth perusing. His History of the English-speaking Peoples since 1900, an account of the Anglo sphere that includes a generous assessment of Lt Gen Dyer of Jallianwala Bagh, is worth recommending.

Leading the pack is, of course, Niall Ferguson, now professor at Harvard but more famous for his book and TV series, Empire. Ferguson makes his fellow historians (particularly the ones he left behind in Oxford) green with envy because he has proved that good history also commands a handsome market price. Now romantically linked to the Somali-born Ayaan Hirsi Ali, whose critique of Islam has made her a target of hate, Ferguson has deftly demonstrated that history is not a dead subject but has contemporary resonance.

Linking the present to the past has been the constant endeavour of the historian since Edward Gibbon published his classic The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire between 1776 and 1788. Gibbon did not directly allude to the present: the intelligent historian doesn’t have to. But anyone in the West reliving the steady erosion of Roman authority after Augustus and Tiberius, cannot but be struck by a sense of déjà vu.

Augustus, wrote Gibbon of another time, “bequeathed as a valuable legacy to his successors, the advice of confining the empire within those limits which nature seemed to have placed as its permanent bulwarks and boundaries.” Emperors who violated this unwritten axiom left Rome vulnerable to predatory ‘barbarians’.

Has the West over-reached itself in assuming the role of global cop in Afghanistan? More than 2,000 years after Augustus, the issue of the natural borders of a civilization has become the focus of a West that no longer has the resources and political will to sustain a war against today’s ‘barbarians’. The debate is no longer one of winning the ‘war on terror’ — the theme that resonated in 2001 — but the ‘timetable’ of withdrawal. Once there was a price on the head of Osama bin Laden and Mullah Omar. Today, earnest politicians talk of “including the excluded”.

Is Afghanistan symptomatic of a larger decline or is it an expedient step towards course-correction? Western politicians are naturally inclined to suggest the latter. Afghanistan, it is now being suggested, has always been the graveyard of empires. And there are always the celebrity historians to prove the point.

Delhi’s very own White Mogul and toast of the literati, William Dalrymple is now researching the First Anglo-Afghan War of 1838-42. The war, which bears uncanny resemblance to events of another century, was marked by the massacre of 16,000 Britons and Indians and the legend of Dr William Brydon, the only ‘white man’ to reach Jalalabad alive.

The legend inspired the Victorians to persist with Afghanistan. In the reign of this Queen, it has become the flashback for quiet retreat, masquerading as prudence. Maybe we should await an offering from Roberts on Lord Kitchener’s war against the Mahadi in Sudan to demonstrate that all history doesn’t point in one direction.

Sunday Times of India, July 4, 2010

Friday, July 02, 2010

Freedom from history (July 2, 2010)

By Swapan Dasgupta

An interesting, but not necessarily intriguing, feature of the summit that concluded in Toronto earlier this week was the nomenclature. To the British media, it was unquestionably the Group of Eight (G-8) Summit. Their Indian counterparts, however, preferred to view it as a conclave of the Group of Twenty (G-20).

Both were right. The G-8 Summit set the stage for the G-20 meeting, not least to demonstrate that the definition of Big Powers has been enlarged since the victors of World War II rewarded each other with permanent membership of the United Nations Security Council. The G-8 is a cosy, time-tested club, even if it includes an excitable Italy and a Russia that some are very wary of. The G-20 on the other hand is more diffused but includes, among others, China, India, Brazil, South Africa, South Korea, Indonesia and Saudi Arabia — countries that will shape the global economy of the future.

The perception that the G-8 constitutes a Super League is self-comforting for a country such as Britain that is increasingly unsure of its own future. Moreover, since news coverage tends to be shaped by national boundaries, it is understandable that the British media focussed primarily on Prime Minister David Cameron’s debut on the international stage. It referred to Mr Cameron being the “new kid on the block” and contrasted his social ease with the earnestness of his predecessor, Gordon Brown. Predictably, there was no mention of US President Barack Obama’s one-liner that when Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh spoke, the world listened. To them, it was more interesting that Mr Obama reinforced the “special relationship” between the two English-speaking countries by offering Mr Cameron a lift on his helicopter.

It is tempting for those who carry the baggage of “anti-colonialism” to rush to the conclusion that the British media’s coverage of the goings-on in Toronto points to an unwarranted arrogance that is typical of an erstwhile imperial power. Arguably, the attitudes of some Britons could do with some modifications. Fortunately, the conduct of foreign policy isn’t always linked to popular priorities. If that was so, India would barely be bothered to look beyond the emotive boundaries of its complex relationship with Pakistan.

The point to note is that Mr Obama’s flattering references to Dr Singh wasn’t an isolated act of generosity. In a move whose significance hasn’t been fully grasped as yet, the new Conservative-led coalition government in London has decided to refocus British foreign policy. According to an interview by its foreign secretary William Hague to a British newspaper, Britain will pursue a “distinctive” foreign policy and will no longer be obsessed by the three “blocs” — the US, European Union and West Asia: “Britain must forge a distinctive new global identity which focuses as much on emerging nations such as India, Brazil, Chile and the Gulf states”. It has been suggested that Mr Cameron is intent on a “special relationship” with India, the contours of which will be unveiled during his visit to Delhi in July.

It is unfair to expect any Indo-British “special relationship” to replicate the 70-year-old Anglo-American entente. There are large areas governing politics, intelligence and defence that will remain outside the orbit of special privilege until mutual trust deepens. It would be unrealistic, for example, to expect Britain to suddenly become publicly wary of Pakistan’s designs on Afghanistan and Kashmir. The misgivings — and there are many — of the multiple power centres in Islamabad will be private and understated, not least because Whitehall isn’t terribly anxious to provoke its citizens of Pakistani origin into making foreign policy a facet of its domestic agenda. Having burnt its fingers quite badly in the Afghan operations, a country such as Britain is likely to redefine its core competence away from war games. mr Cameron, for example, has already indicated that he doesn’t expect British troops to be in Afghanistan for more than four years.

The disengagement of North Atlantic Treaty Organisation forces from Afghanistan before either a political settlement or a military victory is worrying for India. Pakistan’s recovery of its “strategic depth” is bound to add to the existing complications in Indo-Pakistan ties. At the same time, it is also unrealistic to expect the US and Britain to continue to shoulder all military responsibilities in what is turning out to be an unwinnable war. New Delhi will have to undertake some innovative diplomacy, in conjunction with the West, to ensure that Afghanistan doesn’t revert to being a springboard for global, jihadi terror.

A policy based on mutual recognition of each other’s compulsions is the most viable architecture for India’s relationship with the West. A heartening feature of the new dispensation in Whitehall is that it doesn’t inherit the ideological baggage of the Brown government. For India, Britain is an invaluable trade partner, a source and destination for capital investment and a half-way access to both the European Union and the US. If a country with a toehold, albeit a tenuous one, in the G-8 is offering India a “special relationship”, it must be grabbed enthusiastically, even if there isn’t convergence on every issue.

India has to finetune its foreign policy to suit the imperatives of business. That involves underplaying strategic calculations in the neighbourhood and, equally, being less prickly in responding to slights, real or imaginary. For a start, India would do well to not react to every so-called “anti-India” demonstration, whether in Canada or Britain. South Block must realise that Canadian foreign policy isn’t shaped by fringe Khalistani groups in Toronto and Vancouver; nor is British foreign policy moulded by Balti restaurant owners in Birmingham.

The G-20 Summit was an occasion for some soul-searching. India figured positively because it has come out of the economic downturn relatively unscathed. New Delhi is in demand because its potential has been acknowledged. It would be silly to fritter away this advantage by pretending we are a helpless Third World nation and remaining a prisoner of history.

Deccan Chronicle/ Asian Age, July 2, 2010