Goverment In India Page 5

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  *Already referred to in my earlier book Journeys through Babudom and Netaland: Governance in India.

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  THE PARLIAMENT AND THE STATE

  LEGISLATURES

  he parliament is the repository of the sovereignty of India. In a democracy, the will of the people is represented in the chambers of the parliament; thus the British Parliament, the Indian Lok Sabha, the American Senate/House of Representatives, or the Japanese Diet are the highest decision-making bodies in their respective countries. The Indian Chambers are modelled on the British pattern, with the Lok Sabha (Lower House) comprising directly elected representatives and the Rajya Sabha (Upper House) composed of representatives indirectly elected by the state assemblies, and with some other distinguished persons nominated by the government. Together, the Lok Sabha and the Rajya Sabha are the supreme decision-making bodies, with power even to amend the Constitution. A similar pattern exists in the various states, with the Vidhan Sabha comprising elected representatives, and the Vidhan Parishad as the Upper House.

  The parliament or the state assemblies, as the case may be, are ultimately responsible for good governance; this includes power to enact new legislation, mandating the Executive and to approve government spending through the 'budget' – this is the foremost debating forum where public policies are debated, as also where the Executive is taken to account. The 'Question Hour' is the forum where members can elicit information on any aspect of the performance of the Executive.

  The House is basically separated between the government (treasury) benches, and the Opposition. The legislators are expected to study various aspects of the issues of governance and debate them in a manner that will benefit the lot of the common man, leading up to new legislation, or amendments to existing legislation as required. The key roles of the legislator relate to participation in policy making, development of new legislation, critical evaluation of the performance of the Executive and questioning its role where appropriate. The parliament is also the forum where the legitimacy of a government is tested periodically; a majority vote on a money bill or a critical issue is required for the government to continue in power – if it loses majority, the government of the day falls, for another government to form. In short, the parliament is the highest governance forum in the country; the legislator has a major responsibility cast on him to ensure good governance.

  The Past Record – Do we really need a legislature?

  Would one be deemed an anarchist if he asks the question, 'Has the parliament or the state legislatures contributed to India in any manner over the past sixty years?' In other words, would the country in any way have been deprived of anything significant or important if the parliament or state legislatures never existed? In many states, the Vidhan Parishad (Upper Chamber) has been abolished – this has not resulted even in the slightest tremor. If the Rajya Sabha in Delhi is abolished, will the country miss anything? Some may ask today – if the Lok Sabha does not meet at all, would the country be poorer? The same can be asked of the Vidhan Sabha. This is not as casual or frivolous a question as it would appear at first sight. Sixty years after Independence, it would be appropriate for the legislatures to report their achievements, contributions, failures, plans and programmes to the people.

  The only role one has seen the legislatures play is to periodically legitimise each government, by passing a vote of confidence, or throwing out the government of the day (Alas! the latter has now become a more frequent occurrence in place of the normal five-year tenure envisaged by the founding fathers). Despite the speeches in parliament being telecast live, I have not in many years seen or met anybody, who recalls actually listening to a speech given in the parliament or state legislature as the case may be (except periodically during trust vote time, when the interest is more on what the final voting outcome is, than on the contents of the speech). Over a hundred years back when the British parliament was not accessible to the general public through TV as it is now, thundering speeches used to be made by towering politicians which were quoted and cited by the general public. Even in India, when power was still based in Whitehall, the fiery speeches of the likes of Satyamoorthy were still talked about. Has any reader met anybody recently who can refer to a speech made in Parliament in the last thirty years, to refer to the lucidity of thought, forceful expression, suggesting a course of action? Nobody in the current scenario can accuse our legislators of being intellectuals; the parliament and state legislatures are therefore not arenas where major policy speeches that influence the direction of the country are made.

  Or, is it the forum where truth emerges? Hundreds of thousands of parliamentary questions have by now been asked, and answered by the Executive, at Delhi and other state capitals. Have any of these answers thrown additional light, new insight into any policy option or scam, or anything at all? Indeed, we get all our information from the TV and the newspapers; we can learn nothing new, in any sphere, from the legislature. The Right to Information (RTI) has now become law. The television channels and the newspapers have enough technology and resources to bring facts, opinions and perspectives (well or ill) than the Indian legislature has ever done. The RTI can elicit more factual information than a parliament question, in general. So, clearly parliament does not function as the arena where the government renders account, and accepts failures in policy or implementation. In the millions of questions that have been asked and answers given over sixty years in the legislatures, I would be surprised to hear if any government at any point in time had admitted to any mistake or failure, even of the slightest nature. If we go by parliamentary records, we have had perfectly functioning governments over sixty years; with this track record, why do we need a legislature to supervise, if indeed the government of the day is performing in an ideal fashion!

  Surely the annual budget and the supplementaries are to be passed by the 'supreme body' before public expenditure is effected, as a token of the supremacy of the citizen! Why cannot this be done, say once or at most twice a year, when the legislatures could meet for a two-day session to approve the expenditure programme of the state. Indeed I have not heard of any budget or expenditure disapproved by any legislature, except when political confidence had been lost and the government falls. The occasion of the annual two-day meet could also be used to take a proforma 'trust' vote. In late 2008, the national parliament passed eleven bills, some of them quite important with far-reaching consequences, in all of seventeen minutes; imagine how many bills can be passed in a day – hundreds! Surely we don't need more than two hunded Acts of Parliament every year – all we need is better implementation of the Acts already in our statute books. One read in the papers late in the latter part of 2008 that during the calendar year, the parliament had met only for forty days, the lowest number in the previous sixty. Presumably, almost certainly, this includes the large number of days when the parliament would have been adjourned for the day, due to commotion inside the House at the start of proceedings. We are, indeed, moving to the stage where the parliament and the legislatures meet less and less in the course of the year. Is it hostile or absurd to suggest that the process may be brought to a logical conclusion, with each legislature meeting for a total of four days every year, in two instalments of two days each, to conduct the formal business of passing money and other bills and conducting the trust vote. The rest of the conduct of governance could be left to the Executive, headed by the Political Executive – indeed, this will merely reflect the de facto position as it obtains now. While the above is a semi-facetious suggestion, it highlights the relative insignificance of Parliament or state legislatures in the governance of India. It is ironic that in a 'parliamentary' democracy, this should be so.

  One can point to a plethora of parliamentary committees who apply their 'wisdom' on specific legislative proposals. Insiders have surmised that this is merely a device for legislators to get travel and per diem allowances, when the sessions are not on. Many insiders feel that the committe
es frequently block needed legislation for long periods, and act as an additional unnecessary filter. There would be no harm in paying a suitable compensatory allowance to all legislators – at least huge 'collateral' expenses could be avoided. This proposal would also provide more time for MPs to concentrate on the field projects in their constituencies, funded by the Member of Parliament Local Area Development Scheme (MPLADS)!

  Role of the Speaker – the silent, partisan spectator…

  The speaker of the Lok Sabha at the centre and of the Vidhan Sabha in the states has the onerous task of ensuring orderly conduct of business inside the House. This includes permitting expression of different views as appropriate, maintaining proper decorum and conditions conducive to orderly debate, and also maintaining discipline in the House. The speaker is elected by the House itself, and naturally the largest or majority party is able to get its own nominee on this critical chair. The British model requires that once a person is elected to the chair, his role transcends that of an ordinary member, and he elevates himself to a position of a neutral non-partisan referee. Indeed in the first decades after India became a republic, G.V. Mavlankar and Anantasayanam Iyengar played this role, commanding much respect. However, over time, the speaker of the Lok Sabha started functioning more on party lines, than as a neutral umpire. Indeed, in many states, the speaker of the Vidhan Sabha has had a history of getting steeply involved in the intrigues and politics of the day, and frequently conspiring with the ruling party to prolong or continue its hold on the House, often without legitimacy. Sadly, much like many governors of states, who are supposed to be neutral heads getting embroiled with politics and playing games to support one group or the other, a similar spectacle has been provided by many speakers in various assemblies. In a period of coalition politics, the role of the speaker is that much more relevant; sadly the moral fiber of many of our speakers reflects the trends of the era.

  Another aspect needs to be referred to. As befitting the highest forum in the land, the parliament and the assembly are expected to be exemplars in behaviour and smooth conduct of public business. Differences there are bound to be, but these are expected to be expressed in a polite and civilised manner with use of logic and persuasion rather than lung power or intimidation as the main weapon. Alas, the six decades have seen progressive reduction in the quality of debate; equally a steady, secular increase in indiscipline, disorderliness and disruptive behaviour inside the 'hallowed' chambers. Often, brute majority carries the day, with no allowance given to logic or reason. Walk-outs, charging to the 'well' of the House, and other disruptive behaviour to hold up public business have become, if not the order of the day, distressingly frequent. The situation is even worse in many state assemblies, where fisticuffs and physical violence periodically break out. Countless times, mikes have been pulled out of the sockets and used as missiles – the House has been reduced to pandemonium more often than one cares to remember. Sadly, such occurrences have been on the increase.

  It must also be mentioned that the quality of the debate has deteriorated steadily over time. Most members do not care to spend time studying in depth the issues being debated; majority and numbers is all that matters. Even after parliament proceedings have been open for public viewing, hardly anyone in the country listens to any speech made there. One recalls, in the decades immediately after Independence the nation listened to the speeches of the prime minister or the leader of the Opposition of the day with rapt attention; today one would find it quite difficult to locate anybody who takes interest in the proceedings of the House or any particular speech. The quality of speeches as well as the lack of interest in the proceedings of the Houses has been both cause and effect for this sorry state.

  Indeed, there used to be a breed of parliamentarians in India in the past who could debate serious issues, spicing it with a sense of humour. The case of late Piloo Mody comes to mind. That was the time when Fakhruddin Ali Ahmad was the president of India and Uma Shankar Dikshit (father-in-law of the present chief minister of Delhi, and sycophantically addressed as Panditji Umaji Shankarji Dikshitji) was the home minister. When one member objected to a reference made by Piloo Mody's use of the word 'fool' on the grounds that it was a four-letter word, Mody in response got up, apologised profusely, and promised not to use four-letter words, and went on to refer to a discussion he had had with the Hon'ble President….Ruddin Ahmad and the distinguished Home Minister Uma Shankar Dick . . .!

  Evolution of a Politician – The birth of Venus . . .

  All members to the Lok Sabha or the Vidhan Parishad are elected through popular vote. Today most people who stand for election are politicians by profession. This was not always so. In the first decades after Independence, many professionals, lawyers, doctors, engineers, who had succeeded in their vocations wanted to contribute to the nation, and stood for election to the House, deeming it as a matter of honour. At any rate, once a person stands for popular election, his role becomes one of a politician. Thus, the House is populated by politicians. It will be useful to see how this class has evolved over the decades.

  In the 1950s, and well into the 1960s, most politicians belonged to a 'decent' rural background or with a professional urban background – large landowners, lawyers, doctors and the like. Generally they came from a reasonably educated background, and were honest, with a genuine desire to serve the public. Most had been successful in their vocations, and came to politics with a desire to contribute. Many of them were ignorant of the ways of bureaucracy, and in general were supportive of bureaucrats at all levels.

  In the 1970s, the politicians started to become 'savvy'. It was an era of shortages, and corruption entered politics in a significant way. Politicians went out of their way to assert supremacy over civil servants at all levels. In the mid1970s, the concept of 'committed bureaucracy' had already taken root with the strong push given by Indira Gandhi. In the beginning of course, 'commitment' was sought to be interpreted as dedication and zeal to perform one's functions, in other words, commitment to one's work – to treat it as a mission. Very soon, naturally, the meaning of the word commitment took additional dangerous hues; the commitment was now to the policy and programmes of the party in power; from there to the stage of personal loyalty to the minister was not far away; and then the commitment was to individual politicians, forging personal relations between individual bureaucrats and politicians in a mutually beneficial and lucrative long-term arrangement. Over the next ten years it further degenerated into a spectrum of willing bureaucrats ready to sell their souls for a handful of silver, crawling where even bending would have sufficed, becoming the chosen darlings and to become henchmen of any person in power – governments may come and go, but such officers were very useful to the ruler of the day, and remained untouched. Such bureaucrats were still the exception rather than the rule through the '80s, but in the next decade, the breed increased alarmingly. In 1977, at the end of the Emergency, when new non-Congress governments came in many states, it was a pathetic sight to see the senior-most civil servants, who were the chosen ruthless implementers of the Emergency policies, become 'turn-coats', to be willing collaborators of the new non-Congress governments, and who were most vociferous in condemning and castigating those guilty of Emergency 'excesses'!

  By the 1970s, the politician had started to get an understanding of his power and how he could use it. He discovered that he could effectively intervene with police inspectors and tehsildars to settle local disputes in a desired manner – in the early stages this was more to gain ascendancy in the political ladder; inevitably, in course of time, cash transactions started entering the picture. As governments in the states became increasingly less stable from the '70s onwards, the chief ministers had to rely on their members of legislative assemblies (MLAs) to hold on to power. A quid pro quo was inevitable; the legislators and local politicians started demanding an increased direct share in the day-to-day management of affairs at the local levels. Thus, the interventions started to get 'inconvenien
t', officials transferred or moved out, and to create space for wielding their own authority, again with an eye to gaining political popularity, as well as to line one's pockets. As the election processes became increasingly corrupt, the need for generation of 'party money' became paramount – much of it to line the individual politician's pocket. As instabilities and uncertainties increased in the 1980s and 1990s, the politician fully came into his own and started interfering in every aspect of administration, in the minutest detail, at all levels of administration. Thereafter, the local political chief in the district or tehsil was a key unofficial functionary, whose main role was to arbitrate on local issues and line his pockets. The massive expansion in development expenditures from the 1960s onwards provided a major fillip to the role of the local politician who devised ingenious schemes, in collusion with the local junior state government officials, to divert development expenditure. Rajiv Gandhi had once estimated that only about fifteen percent of development expenditure actually reached the targeted beneficiary.