By Swapan Dasgupta
Earlier this week members of the Lok Sabha cutting
across party lines were incensed by speeches made at Anna Hazare’s rally in
Delhi’s Janatar Mantar last Sunday. If the angry interventions by the Leader of
Opposition Sushma Swaraj, National Democratic Alliance convenor Sharad Yadav
and Congress backbencher Sanjay Nirupam were anything to go by, MPs felt they
were being caricatured and vilified by over-sanctimonious representatives of
‘civil society’ who wanted to enjoy power sans responsibility. Moved by the
anger of the elected representatives, the Lok Sabha carried a ‘sense of the
House’ resolution censuring members of Team Anna who, it would seem, were also
itching for a fight that would pit politicians against the anti-corruption
crusaders.
The social media isn’t entirely an accurate
representation of the true feelings of the Man from Matunga. In India, the
barrier imposed by the English language has ensured that this new form of
individual and collective expression remains, by and large, an instrument in
the hands of the educated middle classes. Yet, despite its social limitations, it
is noteworthy that the indignation of the MPs found almost zero support among
the ‘twitterati’. Instead, the general disdain for politicians articulated by
the likes of Team Anna member Arvind Kejriwal was multiplied many times over in
Twitter messages and Facebook postings.
It is always hazardous to draw profound sociological
conclusions from this mismatch of perceptions. The improved turnout at the
recently-concluded elections to five State Assemblies would suggest that
despite misgivings over the integrity of their elected representatives, the
people of India are in no mood to jettison parliamentary democracy and take
recourse to non-Constitutional means to effect change. There is precious little
in the political conduct of the Indian people that is likely to give
encouragement to radical dissidents such as Arundhati Roy and armed Maoists who
claim to speak for the people.
At the same time, there are reasons for those who
have a stake in the future of India to be concerned over the creeping
de-legitimisation of the political system. Arguably, this is not a new
phenomenon. The years following Indira Gandhi’s massive election victories in
1971 and 1972 saw a significant rise in middle class unrest. The stir had its
roots in both the failure of the Congress variety of socialism and the
associated rise in corruption. The phenomenon was repeated in the period
1987-89 when Rajiv Gandhi’s ‘Mr Clean’ image was badly tarnished by the Bofors
scandal and its attempted cover-up.
During both spells of breakdown in popular
confidence in the elected government there was a perceptional difference
between the classes and the masses. There was an Indian Establishment that
coupled its concern over political uncertainty with faith in the Prime Minister
and the ruling party. Its stabilising endeavours were, however, offset by a
willingness of a large section of the middle classes to repose faith in either
Jayaprakash Narayan’s movement or the Opposition grouping around Vishwanath
Pratap Singh. In other words, every political crisis since the 1970s produced
an alternative beacon of hope.
What should concern the custodians of national
interest in India is not merely the state of rot in the Congress Party or
evidence that a bunch of manipulative sharks have the ability to give a bad
name to economic liberalisation. Equally alarming is the mounting evidence that
the mood of cynicism, bordering on arrogance, isn’t confined to the ruling
party alone: it has both infected and debilitated the Opposition. The belief
that things will get better if the present government is booted out and
replaced by relatively untainted people is proving to be increasingly
unrealistic.
What has made a world of difference is the
termination of the Congress’ monopoly of political power. At one time, the
Congress controlled the entire system and managed a network of patronage that
began in the Prime Minister’s Office and worked its way down to the lowest rung
of democracy. The process incorporated the institutions of government both at
the Centre and the states, the public sector and even a struggling private
sector. To be a ‘fixer’ in the early-1970s, a person had to be well plugged
into the Congress Party in its entirety and the bureaucracy. The Opposition
parties did occasionally manage crumbs—mainly to offset their nuisance
value—but it is no exaggeration to say that parties like the Bharatiya Janata
Party and the various offshoots of Ram Manohar Lohia’s socialist movement
operated on shoe-string budgets and were disproportionately dependant on modest
contributions from members and sympathisers. It is also a fact that the
non-Congress parties were far more conscious of the need to extract full
mileage from every rupee spent on elections. By contrast, the Congress could
always bank on an unending supply of funds.
The real test of integrity, a veteran politician
once told me, is dependent on opportunities. “A man may be honest because he
has had no opportunity to be dishonest. The real test is to see how he reacts
in the face of temptation.”
Since 1991, Indian politics has witnessed three
significant changes. First, the Congress’ monopoly over power at all levels is
a thing of the past. Parties such as the BJP and regional parties are well
entrenched and in command of the states. Secondly, the removal of the licence-permit-quota
raj after 1991 devolved a great deal of economic decision-making to the states.
Indeed, states now began competing among themselves to attract investments
leading to a new regime of sops and incentives. Finally, the two decades of
liberalisation have produced areas of spectacularly high growth and patches of
obscene prosperity. Although inequality and unemployment persists, there is
more money floating about the country than at any time before. Mining and real
estate in particular are witnessing a boom, and local politicians have been
quick to exploit opportunities from the lease of mines and the conversion of
land use.
One of the emerging features of India’s political
economy is the connection between corruption and prosperity: the higher the
growth rates the more rewarding is political life. The real cost of elections,
in turn, are linked to the relative levels of prosperity. Elections in Bihar,
West Bengal, Orissa, Madhya Pradesh and the North-eastern states are still
relatively low cost compared to the southern states (minus Kerala), Punjab,
Haryana, Delhi and even Rajasthan. Among the high growth states, only Gujarat
has been able to escape the insidious consequences of big money power—and that
has to do with Narendra Modi converting Assembly elections into a de-facto referendum
on himself.
The net effect of these larger economic shifts is
that it has boosted competitive politics and created a level playing field for
all the major parties. The group that is not in power at the Centre is not
automatically disadvantaged by its inability to wield national power.
Marginalisation in Delhi is compensated by wielding power in the states.
In psychological terms, the hunger to replace a
decrepit regime at the Centre has waned in the opposition ranks. The BJP, for
example, is becoming less and less capable of popular mobilisation for the
simple reason that its survival no longer depends on winning power everywhere.
As long as it can hold on to some important states, its leaders are content.
The Telegraph, March 30, 2012
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