Double-Bill Disaster

Every government that has come to power at the Centre in India has enjoyed a period of unquestioning acceptance—a honeymoon period—in which it has had the freedom to initiate changes of policy without any serious let or hindrance. As a rule, this has seldom lasted for more than a year. The UPA government's honeymoon period has lasted for fifteen months, which is longer than most. But in the last few weeks there have been unmistakable signs of it coming to an end.

Two events have signalled the beginning of a withdrawal of unquestioning trust in the Manmohan Singh government. The first is the passage, after protracted soul-searching, of the Rural Employment Guarantee Act. The second is Sonia Gandhi's decision to host an all-party meeting to discuss, and possibly overturn, the Supreme Court's verdict barring the government from imposing a seat reservation policy on private educational institutions it had not funded. TheREGA has placed a question mark over the country's economic future. The resurgent spectre of job reservations threatens to weaken further the shaky foundations of our democracy. But, behind these a larger question has begun to disturb people's minds: who is governing the country? More and more people are beginning to wonder whether it is not Dr Manmohan Singh, but a shadowy cabal that works out of 24 Akbar Road, and theCPI (M)'s headquarters.

The REGA is a vast leap into the unknown for it violates no fewer than five canons of sound management: these are, never divorce power from responsibility; never reward non-performance; never spend money you do not have; never count the benefits of an innovation without assessing its cost; and never take a leap into unknown waters before testing them (in a pilot scheme) first. That same reckless streak underlies the uproar in Parliament against the Supreme Court's striking down of the reservation of seats for various backward classes in privately run and funded educational institutions. And, once again, the government's refusal to back the court and Sonia Gandhi's readiness to host an all-party meeting to discuss legislation that would overturn the court's verdict is forcing the people to ask: "Just who is governing India?"

Admittedly, two previous Supreme Court benches had delivered conflicting judgements that had made a mess of the admission policies of private colleges and institutes across India. But the seven-judge bench presided over by Justice R.C. Lahoti was aware of this and had set out to put its own house in order. It had done so by pronouncing a verdict that drew upon the principles of natural law to pronounce that if the government bore no part of the obligation of running an institution, then it had no right to tell it how to run itself. The court knew this might very well not be the end of the controversy, for each of the previous judgements had spawned its own challenges. It had, therefore, urged the government to resolve the issue by passing appropriate legislation. What it did not expect was a broadside from all political parties accusing it of entering into a confrontation with the chosen representatives of the people.

Since the first outburst, cooler heads have prevailed. Parliamentarians have reasserted their respect for the Supreme Court, and avoided saying anything in the House that could be taken as criticism of its functioning. But they have also made it clear that they don't intend to be bound by the principles that prompted the court to deny the government the right to impose reservation on private colleges.

In doing so, they have raised an even more fundamental issue: in a democracy, is Parliament supreme, irrespective of what it decides, or is it subordinate to the rule of law? In European democracies, this question was answered long ago, during the formative stages ofdemocracy. Its triumph was the triumph of 'natural law'—the law that emerged from man's need to live together peacefully—over 'divine law', then the property of monarchs and churches. India drew heavily upon the British and American models for its constitution. As a result, its democracy is based upon the latter assumption. This is implicit in the Supreme Court's right of review of the enactments of Parliament and has been reaffirmed every time a plaintiff has turned to it for redressal against a parliamentary enactment or for an interpretation of its clauses. This principle was reaffirmed as recently as Wednesday last week by no less important a person than Lok Sabha Speaker Somnath Chatterjee.

Parliament can, no doubt, pass a law forcing private educational institutions to reserve seats for the underprivileged. But if it did so, it would be violating the rule of law, and would set a precedent with incalculable consequences in the future. That does not mean that it should avoid the issue altogether. The best way would be to ask private educational institutions to lower the bar for admission for students from the scheduled and backward classes by a reasonable amount and admit all those who qualify. It can bring such a requirement in line with the principles of natural law by offering scholarships to the students who qualify. Many private schools and colleges have already made such provisions. Making them universal is the next logical step.

By contrast, reservation, irrespective of merit, will end by lowering the quality of the alumni and reducing their attractiveness to private and public sector employers. That will deal a body blow to the very raison d'etre of these institutions, and serve no one's purpose.