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The
Vision Thing In budget season the
finance minister's image could do with some spring-cleaning.
Last year, around this phase in the
budget-making stage, Finance Minister Yashwant Sinha talked about a tough budget, tough
decisions and asked to be judged by results rather than big talk. Two weeks from the Union
budget, Sinha will have the dubious distinction of being called a finance minister who
couldn't see the truth if it came and bit him on the nose. Privatisation is a mess, the
trade deficit is inching towards $20 billion, four times what it was in the mid '90s, a
quarter of government revenue goes towards paying interest on debt and industrial
production is a little over 3 per cent a year, close to the abysmal levels about a decade
ago.
All over the world, politicians speak with one voice at
home (Sinha's obeisance to swadeshi forces) and another abroad (his recent we're liberal
speech at Davos). This double-speak, usually taken as political prudence, is actually
confusing in this case. Few are clear about the priorities of this Government, which
clears foreign investment in one week and acknowledges organisations like the Swadeshi
Jagaran Manch in another -- and yet, does little to make the Indian economy competitive.
Sinha has also to live down the fact that more people think Foreign Minister Jaswant Singh
is in charge of economic policy; he's just the person who messes it all up. Economic
slowdown started with P. Chidambaram's tenure. He in turn inherited slack from Manmohan
Singh. Even they were ineffective with subsidies and privatisation. But they brought
across a vision, the fruition of which was prevented by the politics of the day. The
tragedy with Sinha is that nobody credits him with clear vision and therefore all the
knee-jerk activity, bureaucratic bungling and blocks are construed as his mistakes while
things that go right -- India riding out the South-East Asian meltdown -- are thought to
happen despite him. Sinha has one option. Stand his ground and push through tough policy
-- unless he really isn't the right man for the job.
And Then Fell Goa
For India's defection maestros it is now feni vidi
vici.
It is a comment on Indian democracy that
Goa's residents have welcomed the suspension of popular government and imposition of
President's rule. Over the past six months, the sea-front state has seen three governments
and -- had the BJP-Goa Rajiv Congress negotiations not failed -- was poised for a fourth.
At the root of the farce is a split in the Congress and the arrival of defections to Goan
public life. Displaying adroit political skulduggery, the state's MLAs have demolished any
misgivings about Goa's assimilation into the national mainstream. Despite joining the
Union of India only in 1961, Goa is now a fully paid-up member of the dystopic mess called
the Indian polity.
Amid cliches like "paradise lost" and "the
innocence has gone", it is easy to forget the larger message from Goa. The lesson is
actually two-fold. First, the lapsed state Assembly's precarious balance, which left any
government with barely a seat's majority. That India's politicians have simply not attuned
themselves to fractured mandates, thin majorities and hung legislatures has been apparent
for some time now. This has been true for Goa, for Uttar Pradesh and even at the Centre.
This is also why the word "governance" has vanished from India's collective
vocabulary. The second lesson relates to the sheer impotence of the anti-defection law. It
sanctions a split if a third or more of a party's MLAs break away. In tiny assemblies like
Goa's this provision is reduced to a joke, with every MLA within smelling distance of
becoming a one-man party. The defection cancer requires a final solution. It would be
advisable to amend the current Act so that any MP or MLA who leaves the mother party
perforce resigns. Some will call this draconian. They should be reminded that the Indian
political system is based on competition between parties -- not blackmail by rampant
individualism. |