LOCAL COMMANDS INSTEAD OF HIGH COMMANDS?

The entry of the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) on the Goan electoral scene has thrown up some interesting responses from their apparent rivals. One criticism of AAP is that it continues the culture of taking orders from the ‘High Command’ in Delhi, effectively being no different from other ‘national’ parties that have ruled Goa thus far. Given that Goa has been ruled by one or the other of the national parties in the last decade, one can understand the existence of such a sentiment against ‘High Command’ and ‘Delhi’ as these power blocs have overseen most of the political mess in recent times. On the other hand, raking up the problem of the ‘High Command’ is an easy go-to solution for Goan parties, like Goa Forward, which can also conceal their lack of political vision for the future.

Also, the above-mentioned criticism leveled is not unfounded. A year ago, its now-expelled founder-member Yogendra Yadav had issued a statement calling the functioning of the top leadership of AAP as “Delhi Durbar culture”. It also doesn’t help matters much that the sales-pitch of Goa’s AAP has been that their successful model of governance in Delhi will be replicated in Goa. Notwithstanding the fact that the conditions in Goa and Delhi differ, such a sales-pitch is uncannily similar to the one in which the ‘Gujarat model’ was held as applicable to and transformative for the whole country.

No doubt, AAP is not the only party to operate in the ‘High Command’ mode. Other ‘national’ parties like the Congress and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) too operate this way. Even an organization like the RSS which set up base in Goa so many years ago is part of the ‘High Command’ culture – the only difference is that the RSS is headquartered in Nagpur and not Delhi. Thus, one can go beyond political parties and see how the ‘High Command’ can thrive in different ways in different organizations.

 However, it can be argued that due to the centralized nature of the Indian State, diktats from Delhi are not simply limited to commands by the top-brass of political parties. They go much further, including laws, policies, and decisions that the states have to follow or enforce. The system of administration and governance in India does not follow a ‘federal’ model, and hence most of the important legislations are in fact made in Delhi. Terms like ‘national interest’ are indicative that the state at the regional level has very little say.

Take, for instance, the recent issue of ‘nationalizing’ Goa’s rivers. This basically means that the Central government will control the use of the rivers. The protests against such a move may have started now, but the proposed ‘nationalization’ was conceptualized way back in 2010. Similarly, the issue of holding Portuguese citizenship along with Indian citizenship is an example of a specifically Goan issue which Goans are not allowed to decide themselves. It is said that under Indian law ‘dual citizenship’ is not possible and when the issue was referred to ‘Delhi’, the concerned authorities determined the issue without giving due attention to Goa’s legal history or its present conditions.

So, the point to take home is that a culture of ‘High Command’ is not only intrinsic, but is also endemic to the political and administrative system in India. The alternative of a Goa-centric political outfit, in all honesty, hasn’t ever existed in Goa. In this context one can recall the government under the Chief Ministership of Dayanand Bandodkar. The surprise victory of Bandodkar in the first elections of 1963 halted the triumphal march of the Congress party. The Congress, despite being the sole ‘national’ party at that time, and one which had overseen the departure of the Estado da Índia, was rejected by the majority of Goan voters.

This is not to say that Bandodkar and his Maharashtrawadi Gomantak Party were consciously being regional, but to suggest that a combination of voting for a non-national party, and a politics of taking (Marathi) education to the bahujan classes led to approximately 20 years – from 1960s to 1980s – of Goa apparently avoiding the ‘High Command’ system and culture. At least to a certain extent. Against the ‘national’ policy of investing in higher education, Bandodkar focused his attention on primary education, as Parag Porobo argues in his book India’s First Democratic Revolution (2015). But while Bandodkar may have thus operated differently from the ‘national’ in some respects, there were other instances when he was under the pressure of powers from Delhi. For example, Bandodkar had to work closely with the government at the Center, as a chief minister of a union territory had fewer powers, during the Opinion Poll and very often claimed to be a Congressman himself.

As for a local party, there is no real alternative available largely because the regional parties have mostly preferred to sway the electorate with tired clichés about ‘Goemkarponn’ and ‘saving Goa’. Such tired clichés mean nothing as they are narrowly-defined to serve vested interests. Having a regional or local political outfit does not guarantee that the culture of the ‘High Command’ will cease to exist or that the interests of all kinds of Goans will be safeguarded. In fact, if observed closely the regional parties, like the national ones, always serve the interests of the elites of the dominant class and caste in Goa. Laws such as the Investment Promotion Act are fast-tracked in the name of national development. Either the Indian elites or the Goan ones, or both, get a lion’s share from Goa’s ‘development’ – be it in real estate or in mining. Ultimately what needs to be ascertained properly is how much power is shared by either the ‘High Command’ or the local power blocs with those who are not part of, or do not have access to, the state machinery and institutions. 

(First published in O Heraldo, dt: 28 September, 2016)

SAVIORS, TAMASHA, AND DESPERATION: A VICIOUS CIRCLE

The commencement of the monsoons about a week ago seems to have caught the authorities and public works departments napping. The pathetic manner in which public amenities and resources are (mis)managed add to the frustration and desperation that the citizens of Goa feel, and have felt for a long time. The water-clogged streets of Panjim, Mapusa, and Margao are a manifestation of mismanaged governance. If such incidents happen time after time, year after year, then one wouldn’t be off the mark in categorically stating that Goa is a failed State – in the sense of an administrative and political entity. It has been failing for a long time now.

Since the State fails repeatedly in its duties no matter which political party is in power, it could be suggested that Goan politics has been stuck in a vicious circle for some time now. The vicious circle begins with the repeated failure of the State regardless of the political party at the helm of governance and the ensuing frustration and desperation of the citizens. This leader of a political party or of a social movement – often a charismatic figure – emerges as a figure whose leadership provides the momentum for the change in political fortunes. This leader, invariably as he, is presented as the only savior who can bring about radical and revolutionary changes. Often this charismatic leader gains visibility through the successful staging of ‘spectacles’ such as protest marches or massive rallies at election times.

The argument here is that contemporary Goan politics is about the mobilization of people – in a metaphorical sense – from desperation to hope, and back to the cesspit of desperation. The fundamental and structural problems in Indian politics – be they of caste, language, region, gender, governance, unemployment – are left unaddressed. Problems that drive people into the vicious circle of desperation – hope – desperation in the first place.

While the vicious circle of desperation – hope – desperation may oppress us, to counter it we see the emergence of activists groups and movements, small and large, that attempt to correct the failing State. They are concerned with giving more power to the ordinary citizens in the process of governance. For instance, if there are massive irregularities in land sale across villages, we see many citizen groups emerging that attempt to stop it. They petition the State or they drag them to the court in order to stop the irregularities. So far such movements, though numerous, have had a very limited impact on the functioning of the State and its bureaucracy because their access to state machinery is limited. Such movements have to depend on the goodwill of the political bosses and the bureaucratic machinery to legislate laws that will work in their favor.

Since the activism route does not really work, one has to go back to electoral politics to gain access to the bureaucratic machinery. The only way one can do it is by organizing spectacular rallies. For instance, the case of the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) in Goa is quite illustrative. Members of AAP campaigned vigorously door-to-door before their massive public rally at Campal. Thus, the massive rally was a key moment both for the self-image of an outfit like AAP and also for others to take them seriously.

With Arvvind Kejriwal projected as a savior and the Goan State riddled with scams and corruption, AAP appears to be ideally positioned to give hope to the Goan masses. In Kejriwal, AAP has the ideal person who emerges from the bureaucratic system which has repeatedly failed the people, and who postures himself as someone who can run it efficiently; indeed, someone who can deliver basic amenities. Additionally he is also the activist who was frustrated by the bureaucratic system. The interesting thing about the AAP is that it acknowledges the problems existing in the State/bureaucratic machinery but emphasizes only the mismanagement and corruption of previous political parties. But this does not account for the fact that it is the state machinery that has seldom worked in the favor of the masses. Political parties come into power and then they are kicked out after a slew of controversies and scams, but the mechanisms of the state are longer-lasting. Bureaucratic machinery is more resilient than the fortunes of a political party.

It is necessary, however, to suggest that there is no point in indulging in utopian visions. There is a value to these visions as long as one also recognizes the urgent necessity of having options in politics; of having a cushion to fall back on in case grand political mobilizations fall flat on their faces. What is meant by having options in politics is akin to having dual citizenship (in the Goan context) allowing us to infuse Goan politics with regimes based on legal rights and also contribute meaningfully to the political systems that uphold these rights.

The word ‘tamasha’ in the title was used specifically for apart from highlighting the problematic role of spectacles, to also play on the two meanings of the word in many South Asian languages. In the first instance, a ‘tamasha’ could mean a performance for entertainment; in the second it could mean talk or actions devoid of any intrinsic meaning. Without recognizing that the State has failed on several counts and the people in Goa have no choice but to be stuck in a vicious circle, Goan politics will forever be a ‘tamasha’. The vicious circle, of course, may never be broken.

(A shorter version of this article was published in O Heraldo, dt: 22 June, 2016)