According to Indian scriptures, we live in Kaliyug, the age of dark forces, of disintegration, greed, rivalry and moral decay. Just consider the spectacle unfolding before us: muck is raked, mud is smeared on men who had imagined they would ride the crest of public outrage against corruption to clean the system. Ever since Anna Hazare, a rather militant Gandhian, sat on fast at Jantar Mantar a few weeks ago, covert and overt attacks on the anti-corruption brigade have arrived from every direction. There’s the mysterious manufacture and dissemination of CDs, the appearance of an old political fixer like Amar Singh in the sordid drama, the planting of stories to discredit the father-son duo of Shanti and Prashant Bhushan, both lawyers, well known for crusading against corporate, government and judicial corruption. There’s an open attack by some Congress members, and then there’s the more highbrow criticism by civil society members and opinion-makers who worry that the institutions of our great democracy could be undermined by a Jan Lokpal with too much power.
Who would have imagined that a bunch of novices, would-be do-gooders, yoga masters, residents welfare association types would cause so much agitation and trepidation? Obviously, the anti-corruption movement has unsettled an entrenched class. The movement, backed by public sentiment, is something no one really knows what to do with. It’s a dynamic work-in-progress and it’s difficult to predict how the story will turn. But I suspect there’s something in the vocabulary and timing of the movement that indicates it won’t vanish overnight. In fact, the dirty tricks campaign against it could well prove counterproductive.
From being an absolute sceptic, I now confess to a grudging admiration for anything that rattles so many people. Clearly, there are serious policy concerns about the nature of the proposed Jan Lokpal bill, and I have the healthiest respect for those who are doing their bit to shed light on such weighty matters. But can we really use the “democracy undermined” argument while taking a position against the Jan Lokpal bill? Hasn’t all the loot been taking place under the nose of our hallowed democratic institutions? The biggest swindles take place because of the economic policies pursued by the government, which has the power to decide which business house gets which licence, quota or piece of land. As someone who regularly covers Parliament, I’ve watched the institution become a mechanism for the facilitation of plunder: parties even send MPs into committees framing policies in sectors in which the MPs have direct business interests.
I have no doubt that our parliamentarians, now increasingly dynasts and millionaires, will appear to act against corruption only if a screaming mob demands action. So if there are people who say they have a plan to counter corruption, we should perhaps listen to them before throwing the baby out with the bath water. For those who fear the Jan Lokpal will undermine democratic traditions, I have just one question: Why all the hair-splitting when it is Parliament that will pass the bill anyway, and no one can hold a gun to the heads of our honourable MPs?
I suspect that part of the problem is that many people who believe they are experts on policy are just uncomfortable with this lot suddenly landing on the scene, kicking up such a storm. But then if one bunch of activists can sit on the National Advisory Council (NAC) and frame policy, why can’t others be heard out and given a chance?
The aesthetics of this movement seems out of sync with the sensibilities of the left-liberal constituency. When I first sighted Anna Hazare under a big image of Bharat mata, with deshbhakti songs and Vande Mataram playing, I described the agitation as a huge jaagaran at Jantar Mantar. The vocabulary of the anti-corruption movement is in part similar to that used by Hindutva organisations. Hazare has probably fuelled such suspicions with his praise of Narendra Modi. In his work in Maharashtra, he is often very effective, although there are aspects of the Orwellian ‘Big Brother’ in the mix of moral policing and patriotism practised in his village. Yet that does not mean that Hazare is burdened by the sectarian agenda of the BJP-RSS. And given the public energy he has tapped, shouldn’t progressive forces align with him instead of trying to isolate him?
In the age of the venal and low, such political debates will perhaps have to wait. Will the would-be inquisitors be vanquished before Act II begins? Will an attempt to clean corruption just disintegrate into a tragi-comedy in which shadowy forces succeed in diverting attention from what should be the real purpose at hand?
