In his televised address to the nation on Friday, March 16, Atal Behari Vajpayee promised not only a full judicial inquiry into the Tehelka expose but also an "overhaul of the electoral system and the system for funding political parties" to "cleanse political life and (the) administration". "You have my word," he said. "I shall spare no effort."
I was among perhaps a minority in the cynical city of Delhi who believed him. But as I write, every single thing that has happened in the six days since he made his promise has made me wonder whether my trust might not have been misplaced. During his speech, Vajpayee never once questioned the veracity of the tapes. But today, a bare week later, the bjp and Samata are accusing Tehelka of fabricating parts of it; and of conspiracy to destabilise the government and undermine India's security. No one is talking of prosecuting Bangaru Laxman. Instead, the government is seriously considering whether or not to prosecute Tehelka. If it does not do so, it will be in order to be spared the need to prosecute bjp president Bangaru Laxman too.
George Fernandes may have resigned but the Samata, bjp and indeed Vajpayee himself have gone out of their way to affirm their faith in his honesty. This affirmation of trust hasn't stopped with words. Fernandes continues to be nda convenor. If the government's decided Fernandes is innocent, why bother with the inquiry at all? In the face of these unambiguous signals, it would be a brave judge indeed who would inquire diligently into Fernandes' or other ministers' and senior officers' conduct. In the end, a few petty clerks and retired army officers will be thrown to the lions in the coliseum to satisfy the public's blood lust.
Questions are being raised not about the morals of those exposed but the ethics of Tehelka's method of exposing them. What Tehelka did may not stand in court but it is morally irreproachable. Every government in the world mounts 'sting' operations against subjects whom it suspects of being criminals. The subjects have exactly the same moral right to launch a sting operation against a government that they suspect of being actively involved in crime.
Much is also being made of the hearsay nature of the allegations. This charge has more substance. The mere fact that someone you have filmed taking a bribe says he has to share it with others does not automatically make the latter culpable. Had such allegations been all the Tehelka tapes contained, they would at most have deepened the distrust of the political system that already prevails in the country.
But the fact is that Laxman took cash and asked the representatives of West End Corporation to bring the next instalment in dollars. He claimed later on TV that he was taking money for the party. But under the law, parties can take contributions from corporations only if these are paid by cheque. A cash contribution is illegal, a contribution in dollars doubly so and a contribution from a foreign firm, trebly so. If V. Krishnamurthy, arguably the finest techno-manager the Indian public sector has ever had, could have been arrested and detained in a 'C' class cell in Tihar Jail for three months in the middle of summer while the cbi struggled to fabricate a case against him (and failed), why is Laxman free to walk the streets? Is it because politicians are, by definition, above the law?
Let us turn now to Jaya Jaitly. On camera, she accepts a donation to finance a meeting of the party.She also tells West End representatives that if they have a good product and if, for some reason, it isn't given its due share of attention, then it is always possible for the defence minister to instruct the authorities concerned that it should be properly evaluated. But the product must be attractive either because of its price or its quality. Taken separately, there is nothing much wrong with either action. But together, they create an altogether different picture.
Jaitly accepted cash on the Samata Party's behalf from an arms dealer trying to sell equipment to the Indian army and promised that the defence minister would intervene to make sure the supplier's equipment got a fair trial. In an honest evaluation system, why should the supplier have had any doubts? In an honest system, why would a letter or an official representation in writing not have sufficed? The least Jaitly's remarks show is that the system is not fair but is regularly weighted in favour of some suppliers as they are able to 'influence' the decision-makers. But that's not all. The fact that she took money shows the 'fairness' she promised was no different from the fairness that other contenders had been promised. Money, in short, is needed to level the playing field for foreign suppliers.
The literally hundreds of references to precisely how this playing field is 'levelled' by the other actors in the Tehelka drama need to be interpreted against this background. The plain fact is that in isolation, they too are mere hearsay, if not outright gossip. Taken against the background of the payments to Jaitly and Laxman, they provide an education in the way business is conducted by the government.
Vajpayee has made a promise to the nation. He would do well, for the sake of his party and the country, to redeem it. If instead of trying to find holes in the Tehelka tapes his spin doctors had watched the results of Tehelka's polls, he would know that 70 per cent of the respondents believe corruption pervades the highest levels of his government; 65 per cent believe Brajesh Mishra and N.K. Singh should be removed from the pmo despite the fact that their names have been taken only in passing. But 48.58 per cent believe the government shouldn't resign or be overthrown, against 46.27 per cent who do. The message is clear: as far as the public is concerned, Vajpayee has the slimmest of margins in his favour. But that will disappear if he doesn't act decisively to cleanse the rot.