India /It's time parties made themselves heard

Harish Khare
The Hindu, 21 December

It is the basic obligation of a political party to engage regularly with the public at large, educate and persuade it about the merits and demerits of what its government is doing or not doing. Otherwise, the debate gets hijacked by non-representative voices.

THE MERITS and de-merits of the various arguments in the on-going Singur controversy notwithstanding, serious students of political exchange have noticed the crucial role that political parties are called upon to perform in advancing or slowing down a public policy. Even those who do not always admire the Communist Party of India (Marxist) cannot possibly overlook the vigorous role the party and its cadres have played so far in helping the West Bengal Government put in place a controversial decision. In particular, the CPI(M) cadres have been involved in "selling" the Tata project to the affected people and securing consent letters from the farmers. At the national level, the CPI(M) and its policy-literate leaders have robustly joined the public debate, defending the State government and debunking the Singur project's critics.

In total contrast is the Congress party's virtual silence on the equally controversial India-United States civilian nuclear cooperation pact. The task of selling the "deal" and persuading the country of its presumed benefits has been left to the Government. The arguments, for or against, have been made by a tiny slice of the so-called strategic community. No Congress party official has been heard in public defending the deal. On the contrary, some senior Ministers have been whispering their reservations, not necessarily because they are convinced of the deal's flaws but because they have concluded it is good politics to be perceived to be against the proposed bargain. The party has not deemed it worthwhile to be seen to have ever debated the pluses and minuses of the deal. There is a comforting collective deference to the Prime Minister's wisdom in the matter. The net result is that the critics continue to have the upper hand in the battle of public perceptions.

These two contrasting performances point to the larger problem: the inability of political parties to readjust their role in tune with the changed job profile of the Indian state. Most political parties have reduced themselves to "election machines," because success or failure in the electoral arena has come to define a leader's image and a party's political viability. This accent on electoral success has produced a leader-centric organisational model; the leader demands — and is conceded — an almost total sway over the organisation in return for his or her capacity to win votes for the party's electoral nominees. Except in the CPI(M) and the CPI, leaders in almost all political parties have come to be respected or rejected in direct proportion to their perceived ability to help the party win regional or national elections.

On his or her part, the leader once installed in the party hierarchy does not easily let go control over the organisation, irrespective of defeat or victory at election time. Two successive defeats, for example, in the Bihar Assembly elections have made no dent on Lalu Prasad's sway over the Rashtriya Janata Dal, just as two comprehensive electoral debacles have not affected Jayalalithaa's leadership profile vis-à-vis the AIADMK. And, the Akali Dal remains a Badal family outfit, win or lose. Similarly, there will be no diminution in Mayawati's hold over the Bahujan Samaj Party whatever be the outcome of the Uttar Pradesh Assembly elections early next year. Those who lose — like an Uma Bharati or a Vaiko — only fade away from the public (media) radar screen.

This peculiar convergence of an insistent leadership style and an election-centric organisational prejudice has come to distract the Indian party system from one of its essential roles. A democratic arrangement of government sustains itself on a premise that the authoritative policies would be in the interest of vast sections of society and would be calculated to enhance the public good. The extension of this premise is that a government that pursues policies that are perceived to be contrary to the welfare of the masses would end up being voted out. At the same time, in this globalised age, very few public policies lend themselves to be an easy explanation. Government leaders have an uphill task persuading even a relatively small policy-constituency, leave alone getting a huge electorate to support this or that initiative.

Hence it becomes the basic obligation of a party to engage regularly with the public at large, educate and persuade it about the merits and demerits of what its government is doing and — equally importantly — not doing. Otherwise, the daily battle of democratic noises gets hijacked by non-representative voices. Is the United Progressive Alliance Government "soft" on terror or is it calming the nation's collective nerves? Is the Maharashtra government "insensitive" to the plight of the farmers or is it letting them face the consequences of bad choices made? Is the "nuclear deal" against our national interest? Does it compromise national sovereignty? Is the Tata project against the best interests of the West Bengal peasants? Will the battle against terrorists be won only if Mohammed Afzal is put to death? Is the Special Economic Zone format a fair policy? A government that presumably is pursuing anti-people policies can be voted out, generally speaking, only after a gap of five years. But who will ask the questions in the meanwhile? Or, more precisely, who will be allowed to ask the questions?

In the post-1991 age of economic reforms, there has been a marked reluctance to refer policy issues to the test of popular acceptance or even public scrutiny. We have inculcated a fashionable intolerance for any kind of "public approval," debunking such yardsticks as rites of irresponsible "populism." A sub-text of this intolerance is the preference for approval from the chambers of commerce and the pink press.

Political parties have been made to feel defensive about wanting to voice the aspirations and hopes of the masses. The result is that we have had this peculiar record of public policy making: a bureaucratically oriented leadership puts in place a new policy paradigm, with little inclination or stamina to explain the rationale, while the "resistance" comes from a miniscule but determined group, invoking the masses' best interests.

Crux of the crisis

This brings us to the crux of the crisis of democratic governance in India: how to create conditions conducive to bringing about a basic transformation in society and, more importantly, how to garner a semblance of public approval for those transformative policies. All policies involve conflicting claims over resources; each policy ends up producing a set of winners and a set of losers. Those who stand to benefit (or think they are benefiting) from the status quo resist any change; slogans, arguments, emotions, and claims are devised and mobilised to resist change. Policy initiatives get mired in controversies, contests, litigation, leading to delays and cost overruns, further compounding the governance problems. Ideally, democracy should generate sufficient collective energy to enable individuals and groups to assess for themselves the balance of pluses and minuses. That is where the role of leaders and political parties becomes critical.

But this invites another question: how does a leader come to a conclusion that a particular policy prescription is in the best public interest? How does he or she decide what needs to be done at a particular moment of history? The answer varies from leader to leader. Some have the benefit of history and education or a rigid ideological indoctrination and then find themselves in a position to implement those insights. Some learn or choose to imbibe prescribed wisdom, say from the Davos club. Some acquire an understanding from an association with a "struggle" like the Nehruvian elite did during the first two post-Independence decades. And some leaders' thinking evolves because of involvement with democratic articulations and upsurges.

A leader becomes a transforming leader only when he or she is able to interpret correctly the public mood and popular aspirations. Such leaders and such moments are few and far between. For most of the time, leaders in democratic settings have to depend upon their political parties to create a constituency in support of their policy prescriptions. Only political parties have the requisite structure to tap emotions and sentiments that can be calibrated behind or against a policy. Without attending to the periodic task of re-establishing a dynamic synergy among the leader, the party cadres, and ideology, politicians would find themselves handicapped in delivering governance. The obsession with electoral success must give way to engagement with ideas and ideology if the political parties have to remain relevant instruments of a democratic arrangement.