SHORTLY
before he died, Nani Palkhivala repeated his claim that the biggest mistake
the framers of India’s Constitution had made was to provide for a universal
franchise. The problem with giving the vote to everybody, he said, was
that all kinds of illiterate people now vote and elect entirely undesirable
persons to Parliament.
Given Palkhivala’s previous record (it is not too much
of an exaggeration to say that his basic philosophy could be summed up
in two principles: lower income tax and let the corporate sector run India),
the statement should not have evoked any response. And yet it provoked
streams of letters to the editor, mostly from middle class people who
praised Palkhivala for his unique insight into the failures of Indian
democracy and wished that the framers of the Constitution had followed
the Palkhivala prescription.
Of course, Palkhivala’s idea was both silly and unworkable.
The basis of democracy is that we are all equal and any restriction of
the franchise would destroy that principle. Further, there is little or
no evidence to suggest that educated people make better voting decisions
than those who are illiterate. Even after the horrors of the Emergency,
opinion pollsters were horrified to find that a majority of middle class
respondents did not think that the Emergency was such a bad thing and
even now, it is the middle class – more than any other class – that has
the shakiest commitment to secularism or to liberty. In many middle class
homes all over India, Narendra Modi is still a hero, and a bit of dictatorship
is not seen as such a bad thing.
Had the framers of our Constitution followed the Palkhivala
prescription, there is a good chance that (a) we would not have
remained a democracy and (b) the vast majority of Indians whom
Palkhivala would have disenfranchised, would have resorted to violence.
There remains also the possibility that in many states, institutions which
awarded bogus degrees would quickly have been set up by politicians who
would then have used these spurious qualifications to enfranchise their
supporters.
But even though Palkhivala’s idea is a non-starter at
every level – practicality, ideology, morality, and so on – it is astonishing
how often it crops up in middle class conversations. The prosperity of
the last decade should have made the middle class more content. Instead,
it has had the effect of alienating it further from non-middle class India
and from the political structure.
These days the Indian middle class – now around 200 million
people according to some estimates – is the big story all over the world.
Our economic growth has not been led by a surge in manufacturing, so relatively
few new jobs have been created. Instead, we have grown on the basis of
services, most of which enrich only the middle class. The two big Indian
phenomena of the last few years – call centres and software providers
– are middle class dominated.
All this has led to a huge rise in middle class confidence.
There was a time when an IIT educated engineer would have dreamt of going
to Seattle and earning a dollar salary. Today, he prefers to go to Bangalore
and enjoy a much better quality of life (servants etc.) than he could
ever have enjoyed in the US. Plus, the shops are filled with fancy goods,
new hotels and restaurants open every week, the real cost of foreign travel
has come down (holidays abroad are fast becoming the norm – last year
around six million Indians travelled overseas and outbound tourism now
vastly exceeds inbound tourism) and there is a very real sense in which
the global success of Indians in the services sectors (the knowledge businesses,
financial services etc.) has caused the middle class to shed the old Third
World mindset.
The
problem, of course, is that no matter how well the middle class does,
India is still very much a Third World society. Even as Chandrababu Naidu
was busy telling us how Hyderabad would become a cyber-city, farmers who
were unable to repay loans to rural money-lenders were committing suicide.
Even as L.K. Advani was telling the audience at an Economic Times
function that he thought that Indians were feeling good (he liked the
phrase, he said, when he first saw it in an advertisement for Raymonds
fabric), the electorate was gearing up to vote his government out.
So great
is the gulf between the two Indias that people who live in one have no
idea of what is happening in the other. It is easy to make fun – in hindsight
– of Chandrababu and Advani, both of whom fully expected to be returned
to power, but the truth is that nearly everybody else in middle class
India also got the election results wrong.
When the
BJP government ran its India Shining campaign, it was widely criticized
on the grounds that the ads amounted to a misuse of public funds for party
political purposes. Nobody made the point that India was not shining.
Almost all of the media actually believed the hype; we took measures of
middle class prosperity as indicators of the true health of India and
believed that A.B. Vajpayee was set for another term. But as the election
results demonstrated, there is more to India than the middle class.
Many
people believe that the gulf between the two Indias can never be bridged,
that we are headed towards a situation where economic progress will be
largely middle class driven while the political system (thanks to the
universal franchise that Nani Palkhivala abhorred) will operate independently
of the middle class and therefore, the English speaking media. Within
the BJP for instance there are those who believe that the party has no
hope of returning to power if it talks about progress and economic development.
To win over the masses, or so the theory goes, it must return to the politics
of Hindutva and carve out new constituencies based on caste.
As cynical
as this view may seem, it is undeniable that electoral politics today
is less ideology-driven or issue-based than at any time in the history
of our democracy. The vast majority of Indian political parties stand
for nothing except for caste and/or dynasty.
In Jammu
and Kashmir, both the National Conference and the PDP are family businesses;
in Andhra, the TDP stands for nothing more than Naidu’s personality (and
his father-in-law’s legacy); in Tamilnadu, the DMK is a family corporation
while the AIADMK is a sole proprietorship; in Orissa, the BJD is headed
by a former political novice whose only qualification is that he is Biju
Patnaik’s son; in Maharashtra, the NCP is an extension of Sharad Pawar’s
ego while the Shiv Sena is a dynasty; in Bihar, the RJD is Laloo Yadav’s
family plus a caste-base; in UP, the BSP is Mayawati plus a dalit vote
bank, while the Samajwadi Party is a collection of crony capitalists surrounding
Mulayam Singh’s family and its Yadav vote-bank; and so on.
This is
only a partial list but the story is the same in nearly every state. Few
if any of these parties actually believe in anything. They sell
themselves to the highest bidder when it comes to coalition building in
Delhi and appeal for votes at home not on the basis of any programme but
on the basis of caste or charisma. Thus, you now have the extraordinary
situation where one India – the middle class version – is moving forwards
while another – the mass-based electoral version – is actually moving
back in time.
Inevitably,
this increases middle class alienation from the electoral system. Why
is it, ask middle class people, that nine times out of ten, whenever a
criminal stands for election, he wins? Why do the people of UP not begin
to question Mulayam Singh Yadav’s commitment to secularism and socialism
(his party is called the Samajwadi Party, after all) even when it is clear
that he’s doing deals with the BJP and selling UP to capitalist cronies.
Why is Laloo
Yadav – who has run Bihar to the ground – seemingly undefeatable at election
after election? Why is Sukh Ram still a force to reckon with? Why does
Jayalalithaa keep popping up again no matter how often she seems down
and out?
There’s
really only one broad answer to this question – and it is not the one
that Nani Palkhivala gave.
The reality
is that for much of India, the democratic system is seen as having failed
to deliver on the promises it held out. And when a system fails, people
return to the loyalties that preceded the emergence of that system – caste
loyalties, ethnic loyalties, religious loyalties, and simple tribal loyalties
to totemic or iconic figures.
And yet,
the middle class does not recognize that the system has failed most of
India – after all, it has delivered pretty much everything that the middle
class wanted it to. The electoral behaviour that educated people find
so aberrant is blamed not on genuine frustration but simply on illiteracy.
The significance
of the General Election of 2004 is that it offers us a small hope of reversing
this trend, of stopping the two Indians from drifting further and further
apart.
Unlike
many others, I do not accept that the Congress won the election. But I
have no doubt that the BJP lost it. The mandate that emerged was not one
for Congress rule but it was, nevertheless, a sign that people wanted
a more equitable pattern of development; that they wanted a government
that cared as much for all sections of society as it did for the urban
middle class.
To some
extent, I suspect that the Congress recognizes the ambiguous nature of
the mandate. By refusing to accept the prime ministership that was her’s
for the taking, Sonia Gandhi has served notice that she will not run her
party like the RJD or the SP, like a family business. The choice of ministers
has been instructive. Manmohan Singh has virtually no political base outside
of the middle class but she preferred him to all other candidates because
she recognized that he was a reformer who understood the realities of
India (unlike say the BJP’s urban TV sound-bite specialists who have no
grasp of the big picture). If there is one man who is a middle class hero
but recognizes nevertheless that there is more to India than the middle
class then it is Manmohan Singh.
Laloo
Yadav who started out wanting to be deputy prime minister and then held
out for the home ministry was told that he would get nothing more than
railways. Mulayam Singh, who stood for the Lok Sabha, expecting to get
some major central portfolio, was told that neither he nor his party were
needed. Men of integrity with some commitment to more than just urban
India have been given portfolios nobody expected them to get. For instance,
Mani Shankar Aiyar was an obvious choice for the panchayati raj or rural
development ministries. But his principal qualification for petroleum
(traditionally, the big bucks ministry) was his honesty – it is a fortunate
coincidence that he’s also turned out to be one of the best petroleum
ministers in recent times.
All this
augurs well. So do the kind of speeches that Manmohan Singh has been making
– the clearest expression of his vision of India came when he inaugurated
the IGMT conference a month ago – in which he always outlines a more equitable
pattern of development.
Of course,
it is too early to be too optimistic. But my fear is that if this government
fails to bridge the gap between the two Indias, if middle class arrogance
grows and if public alienation increases, then we may be heading for tougher
times than most of us realize. The middle class will incline more and
more to the Palkhivala view. And the rest of India will use elections
only to bolster tribal and dynastic loyalties.
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