By Swapan Dasgupta
Having been a frequent traveller to London for the
past 38 years, it has been interesting observing the shifting British attitudes
to India and Indians.
There was a time in the mid-1970s when every Indian
was eyed with suspicion as a potential illegal over-stayer by the immigration
officers at Heathrow. Those were the days when the salespeople in upmarket
establishments paid no heed to the shabbily dressed Indian shopper. They
focussed on rich Americans, Arabs and, of course, the Japanese tourist.
Sometime in the early-1980s, I recall visiting an Indian banker staying at the
Savoy and being asked by the supercilious receptionist: “Does he work in the
kitchen?”
All that, as they say, is history. Thanks to all the
BRIC hype and the mood of gloom and doom in Britain, Indians (from India) are
automatically assumed to be either IT millionaires or someone worth
cultivating. The riches of India were the talk of London in the early-18th
century when Lord Clive was astonished by his own moderation. Some 300 years
later the wheel has turned full circle. Once again, and this time thanks in no
small measure to Bollywood, India is beginning to be seen as a potential milch
cow. The perception may well be grudging but is nevertheless real.
This is why Indians
should be more understanding of the sense of outrage in Britain at the
government’s decision to persist with its Rs 1,940 crore aid to India. The sum
involved may be peanuts when compared to India’s development budget but that sum
could help save many public libraries in Britain and even add to the resources
available to the National Health Service. Given its parlous public finances,
Britain just can’t afford to underwrite well-meaning but ineffective
anti-poverty initiatives in India. The money, however small, can be better
utilised in Britain, for Britons.
Why was India—with enough
of its own money to burn on useless do-gooding initiatives—the biggest
recipient of British aid in the first place? If the idea was to use the
goodwill of generosity to influence India’s combat aircraft purchases, the ploy
hasn’t worked and the British Government stands embarrassed for even suggesting
it would. Why not give the aid to countries that have difficulties generating
resources internally, say some.
The reason may have a
lot to do with how the champions of enlightenment perceive themselves in
Britain. There was a time, particularly in the heydays of Empire, when the
notion of the wider good was viewed through the prism of self-interest. The
creation of an elaborate railway network in India didn’t come about because the
guardians of Empire wanted to promote religious pilgrimages and tourism. There
were hard-nosed strategic and commercial calculations that served British
investors and British industry and which were appreciated by the Indians.
British development assistance serves no such purpose now. It merely makes a
minusculity in Britain feel great about doing good.
It is this
gratuitousness that has come to define British public attitudes in many
spheres. I recently met a British diplomat who boasted having visited some 22
states in India before taking up his appointment in Delhi. His desire to look
beyond the drawing rooms of Lutyens’ Delhi was admirable. But what would be the
reaction if an Indian diplomat decides to spend three months traipsing around
Doncaster, Scunthorpe, Swindon and Hartlepool before reporting for work at India
House in Aldwych? Yes, his understanding of Britain would be enhanced
considerably. He could conceivably also be the candidate of choice for the post
of Aid Commissioner if India chose to re-plough the Pound 238 Million of
British aid back into the disadvantaged areas of the British Isles. But since
traditional diplomacy isn’t about “doing good” but promoting mundane things
such as trade, culture and keeping a good table, it would be a noble wasted
effort.
Sunday Times of India, February 12, 2012
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