That a politician was compelled to make
a public appearance despite ill health tells us something about the political
culture in India. Manohar Parrikar’s rather dramatic entry at the budget
session of 2018 should make us not only enquire into the short-term
machinations in contemporary politics, but also the culture in which the
visibility of the ruling authority is of paramount importance. For one thing was
crystal clear in the political spectacle surrounding Parrikar’s sudden
appearance at the budget session: the importance of his visibility for
colleagues, allies, and the masses.
It is interesting to note the role played
by public visibility in politics (and not just in the abovementioned incident).
As can be perceived from the appearances of politicians in inaugurating even
the smallest public works, to be seen in public ensures that the ruling
authority is recognized as such by the people. Recently, it was reported
that some sarpanches in Priol were upset because their names did not feature in
the inauguration plaque of new public infrastructure owing to a circular issues
by the government prohibiting the same. These upset sarpanches argue that it is
they who do most of the hard work to make a developmental work a reality, and
hence should not be excluded. The enormous outpouring of congratulatory
messages in the pages of newspapers (sometimes even occupying two full pages!) is
another case in point.
Public visibility and validation is
important in this sense as the legislator is not seen or does not operate as a
public servant (in the true sense of the term) but is a dispenser of
benevolence and favors; he
is the patron par excellence in contemporary democratic politics in
India. Hence, one can expect a conflict if a
sarpanch gets more visibility than, say, a minister. The importance of public
visibility and public validation for a ruling authority figure has a long
history in South Asia. For instance, the Mughal Emperor Akbar can be considered
to have properly invested and institutionalized the vocabulary and practice of
the ruler making a public appearance. Like the Mughal emperor, the ruling
authority continues as a dispenser of benevolence, favors, and justice down to
the smallest level of Indian governance.
Based on Indic and Persian models of
kingship, as well as the practice of worshipping the sun prevalent in ancient
Persia as in South Asia, Akbar would present himself to his subjects from a
window of his palace – the jharokha
– first to worship the sun and later to hear the petitions and grievances of
his subjects. This practice was continued by later Mughal emperors, reaching
its zenith in the reign of Shahjahan, with the magnificent Diwan-i-Aam audience
hall in the Red Fort. The practice was rooted to such an extent in Mughal
imperial culture that even Aurangzeb, considered to be a purist, carried it
forward for some years of his reign. By enacting such daily rituals, authority
and legitimacy to rule was vested in the figure of the emperor – a necessary
condition if a king or an emperor was to govern his empire and be recognized as
such in the eyes of his subjects.
What this history indicates is that the
visible presence of the ruling authority was a requirement not just during the
celebration of festivals of the state or some religious occasions, but was necessary
on an everyday basis. Political authority, therefore, is expressed as a daily ritual
in which the figure of authority needs to be visible. This figure of authority
needs to be seen as presiding over the governance of the land. Thus, the
authority figure needs to be seen not only in the parliament/assembly but also at
the ground level presiding over works of public infrastructure or overseeing
the successful dissemination of governmental schemes.
That such a pattern of authority continues
in our times – apparently a time of liberal and constitutional democracies – is
also indicative of the fact that political authority is understood largely as a
kingly-feudal authority. We understand our politicians as rulers and as
benevolent patrons of yore, rather than as public servants more suited for
constitutional and liberal democracies. Political figures are then given
deference by the masses, often commanded by kings; but which seems over the top
for public servants entrusted with the welfare of everyone. In this context, it
is interesting to note that as early as in the first half of the twentieth
century most of the Concanim newspapers referred to the Portuguese Governor
General as “Goencho Raza” or “Amcho Raza”. Given that by this
time the Governor Generals were appointed by elected representatives in the
Portuguese parliament, by no stretch of imagination, could the person who
headed the government in Goa during the last decades of Portuguese sovereignty
qualify as a king – a rajah! Neither was he a public servant; however,
it could be quite possible that the Governor Generals were seen as successors
of the Viceroys – effectively the deputies of kings in Goa and therefore
‘kings’ in their own right.
In such a scenario, visibility of the
political figure becomes one of the crucial ways in which authority is
legitimized. The flip side of the issue is that political authority gets
expressed in terms of feudal relations, thus hindering a transition to
egalitarian forms of governance. Even basic governance is held back because the
political figure is indisposed, and cannot lend his physical presence to the
government. In the final analysis, rather than promoting an ethos of committed
public service to all citizens, age-old hierarchies are maintained through the
cult of the individual.
(First published in O Heraldo, dt: 14 March, 2018)
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