He who mobilises hope, wins
Since political parties claim to speak nothing but gospel truth, it may be opportune, as we squabble toward another general election, to raise a Biblical parallel. Which of the two fetches more votes? A sermon on the mount, with its appeal to the meek who shall inherit the earth, or resurrection, which promises hope in the mess of despair?
In 2009, Congress pulled off a political miracle. It managed to combine the votes of both Caesar and God. The business magnate was enthused by growth, the marginalised with welfare. Both believed that five more years of UPA would deliver India into an economic stratosphere. Today, both constituencies are lost in questions.
The last alibi wandered off into a darkening twilight when a pillar of establishment, the governor of the Reserve Bank of India, D Subba Rao, publicly chastised finance minister P Chidambaram, adding, in parenthesis, that the rupee crisis owed more to profligate spending in India than to any decision taken in America, which has been the stock explanation.
Chidambaram’s answer, given in Parliament, has been a list of 10 Commandments to cure an economy wheezing and gasping for life. The unsaid is so much more interesting than the said. He left out his eleventh commandment: blame predecessor Pranab Mukherjee for everything and see how far this ball travels.
Elderly politicians like the thought of moving upstairs when they are tired but not quite retired. Moreover, the perks at Rashtrapati Bhavan are splendid, from staff for every need to an endless supply of excellent sandwiches. Is there anything more one could ask for? Well, yes. A President of India expects release from that horrendous trap of democracy called the blame game. President Mukherjee has superb karma, but has not achieved moksha. Blame still trots to his doorstep.
What must hurt, however, is that this blame is coming from the very government Mukherjee protected, nurtured and saved time and again over eight years. Memory, in politics, is neither short nor long; it is merely convenient. The UPA seems to have forgotten that Mukherjee was for eight years the face and voice of an administration led by a dormant Manmohan Singh and a shielded Sonia Gandhi. Mrs Gandhi prevented Mukherjee from becoming president six years ago because she said, publicly, that he was invaluable in government.
In the house, Mukherjee commanded sufficient respect to rebuke, without response, a querulous opposition. The PM praised each of his three budgets. If indeed Mukherjee is responsible for the gathering gloom then the PM had more than one opportunity to change his portfolio, as had been done in the past. It is true that the graph had begun to bend when Mukherjee was finance minister, from 8.5 per cent to 7.5 per cent to 6.6 per cent growth. But the bend became a slipped disc under the care of Chidambaram; growth has collapsed to 4.4 per cent while the rupee slips toward oblivion.
The Chidambaram diet can be summarised: revive manufacturing, boost exports, contain deficit, increase capital expenditure in public sector units, resolve coal supply “issues”, end environment hurdles, and make land available more easily to industry. So why did Chidambaram not do any of this in July and August 2012? Ninety per cent are administrative decisions, not legislative; they do not need cooperation from the Opposition. If coal famine is killing power production, it is because of corruption. If the deficit is out of control, it is because of UPA’s spending. The environment minister sits in the same cabinet room as the FM and PM; what prevents them from solving a problem? The BJP does not determine capitalisation in PSUs. Nor can any opposition check inflation, which has gouged and maimed every family budget.
There is a simple truth staring at us. The UPA’s agenda is over, and its will is exhausted. It has no answers, beyond blaming the opposition on the one side and the president of India on the other. While the first is normal, the second is startling. A government does not determine who sits in the opposition, but it does choose a stalwart for president.
The crisis has moved far beyond the rupee or GDP statistics; this is becoming a crisis of the republic. Every election has a theme. 1952 established new horizons; 1957 welcomed hope; 1962 opened up a question mark; 1967 was the angry answer. 1971 saw a sudden leap of faith; in 1977 came the rage of faith forsaken. 1980 was punishment time for non-Congress parties, for their betrayal. 1984 affirmed nationalism, and 1989 indicated that corruption was a non-negotiable liability. In the Nineties the political gains of economic revival were destroyed by the politics of identity. In a unique variation, optimism became a common strand between two antagonist governments in the 21st century’s first decade. The wheel has slipped back into a quagmire of despair.
Voters live through five years of meek reality to vote, on one day, for redemption and resurrection. He who mobilises hope, wins.
The writer is a senior Indian journalist.
