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Indians' worst fear: the honest politician
For Indian voters, news of a corruption scandal is a sign of a political system in ruddy good health. It's honesty we distrust
When I was growing up in the south Indian city of Madras, there were only two political parties that mattered; one was run by a former matinee idol, and the other was run by his former screenwriter. My mother, giving me my first lesson in politics, explained that the difference between the two parties was that one party took large bribes and usually did the work that it was bribed for; while the other took equally large bribes and did not do the work it was bribed for.
Corruption, which does for Indian political life what sex scandals do for western democracies, is once again in the news in New Delhi, where the furore continues over the allegations that bribes colossal bribes, ranging into the millions of pounds were paid to some members of parliament in a bid to save the Indian government. After the Communist parties withdrew their support to Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, because of his decision to push through a controversial nuclear power deal with the US, his government looked likely to collapse. Yet when parliament met on July 22 to vote on Singh's future, he survived. A few opposition MPs, at the very last minute, changed their votes in his favour. A Communist leader alleged that the government's supporters had bought these votes with bribes he claimed that nearly three million pounds had been paid for each opposition vote. To add to the drama, three MPs smuggled in bags containing nearly a hundred thousand pounds in cash into parliament, and waved the money in front of the gathered journalists, alleging that the money was given to them in a bid to influence their votes. The government has survived, but the furore over the alleged bribes continues to grow by the day, dominating TV and newspaper headlines.
Has a scandal of such magnitude shaken the average Indian voter's faith in their democracy has it made him or her worry about the long-term health of the Indian polity? Quite the contrary, I suspect. The thought some of their elected officials might have taken millions of pounds in bribes last week is probably reassuring many Indians that their political system is in a state of ruddy good health.
Indians mock their corrupt politicians relentlessly, but they regard their honest politicians with silent suspicion. The first thing they do when they hear of a supposedly "clean" politician is to grin. It is a cliche that honest politicians in India tend to have dishonest sons, who collect money from people seeking an audience with dad. Once the son has taken his bag of cash, the favour-seeker meets the saintly father; they sit under photos of Gandhi and sip tea.
Even worse than the fake honest politician, is the genuinely honest one. In India, corruption is a form of patronage; a politician or bureaucrat who takes the bribe then has to let it cascade among a series of lesser bureaucrats and elected officials, who will make sure that the pet projects are completed. An honest politician has no goodies to toss around. This limits his effectiveness profoundly, because political power in India is dispersed throughout a multi-tiered federal structure; a local official who has not been paid off can sometimes stop a billion-dollar project. This is why many Indians have a sneaking suspicion and there is anecdotal evidence to back this up that only corrupt politicians are effective ones. Would you really want an honest man representing you in parliament? The neighbouring constituency may get that new cricket stadium you were supposed to.
Honesty is more than just a matter of ineffectiveness; it seems, in the Indian context, like a negative attitude to existence. There is no public project in India, however big or small, whether in construction, healthcare, or education, that would stand up to a rigorous audit; some numbers will never add up, because someone has pilfered money somewhere. You have to tolerate a certain level of dishonesty if the wheels are to turn. An inflexible insistence on honesty in Indian public life is, generally speaking, a form of moral myopia. The new government hospital may have cost 20% more than it ought to have, but if its opening is blocked by a public inquiry, which could drag on for years, thousands of poor people will suffer.
Consider the July 22 trust vote in the Indian parliament. The Communists, who have everywhere in India a reputation for (relative) honesty, are also known for their doctrinaire and inflexible politics. For ideological reasons for example, a reflexive hatred of the US they would have toppled the government, and plunged the country into political uncertainty. We don't know if there is any truth to the charges of bribery that are flying around Delhi; but like many Indians, I assume that at least one or two of the MPs who mysteriously changed their votes did so for the wrong reasons. And I'm glad that they did so. If they had stuck to their principles, and voted against the government, the country would be reeling, the stock market would have crumbled to dust, and the economy would have ground to a halt.
Like most people who live in India, I complain about corruption, but know that I can live with corrupt men. It is the honest ones I secretly worry about.
Aravind Adiga has been longlisted for the Booker prize, for his novel The White Tiger.
Aravind Adiga: Indians are most suspicious of honest politicians | Comment is free | guardian.co.uk
For Indian voters, news of a corruption scandal is a sign of a political system in ruddy good health. It's honesty we distrust
When I was growing up in the south Indian city of Madras, there were only two political parties that mattered; one was run by a former matinee idol, and the other was run by his former screenwriter. My mother, giving me my first lesson in politics, explained that the difference between the two parties was that one party took large bribes and usually did the work that it was bribed for; while the other took equally large bribes and did not do the work it was bribed for.
Corruption, which does for Indian political life what sex scandals do for western democracies, is once again in the news in New Delhi, where the furore continues over the allegations that bribes colossal bribes, ranging into the millions of pounds were paid to some members of parliament in a bid to save the Indian government. After the Communist parties withdrew their support to Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, because of his decision to push through a controversial nuclear power deal with the US, his government looked likely to collapse. Yet when parliament met on July 22 to vote on Singh's future, he survived. A few opposition MPs, at the very last minute, changed their votes in his favour. A Communist leader alleged that the government's supporters had bought these votes with bribes he claimed that nearly three million pounds had been paid for each opposition vote. To add to the drama, three MPs smuggled in bags containing nearly a hundred thousand pounds in cash into parliament, and waved the money in front of the gathered journalists, alleging that the money was given to them in a bid to influence their votes. The government has survived, but the furore over the alleged bribes continues to grow by the day, dominating TV and newspaper headlines.
Has a scandal of such magnitude shaken the average Indian voter's faith in their democracy has it made him or her worry about the long-term health of the Indian polity? Quite the contrary, I suspect. The thought some of their elected officials might have taken millions of pounds in bribes last week is probably reassuring many Indians that their political system is in a state of ruddy good health.
Indians mock their corrupt politicians relentlessly, but they regard their honest politicians with silent suspicion. The first thing they do when they hear of a supposedly "clean" politician is to grin. It is a cliche that honest politicians in India tend to have dishonest sons, who collect money from people seeking an audience with dad. Once the son has taken his bag of cash, the favour-seeker meets the saintly father; they sit under photos of Gandhi and sip tea.
Even worse than the fake honest politician, is the genuinely honest one. In India, corruption is a form of patronage; a politician or bureaucrat who takes the bribe then has to let it cascade among a series of lesser bureaucrats and elected officials, who will make sure that the pet projects are completed. An honest politician has no goodies to toss around. This limits his effectiveness profoundly, because political power in India is dispersed throughout a multi-tiered federal structure; a local official who has not been paid off can sometimes stop a billion-dollar project. This is why many Indians have a sneaking suspicion and there is anecdotal evidence to back this up that only corrupt politicians are effective ones. Would you really want an honest man representing you in parliament? The neighbouring constituency may get that new cricket stadium you were supposed to.
Honesty is more than just a matter of ineffectiveness; it seems, in the Indian context, like a negative attitude to existence. There is no public project in India, however big or small, whether in construction, healthcare, or education, that would stand up to a rigorous audit; some numbers will never add up, because someone has pilfered money somewhere. You have to tolerate a certain level of dishonesty if the wheels are to turn. An inflexible insistence on honesty in Indian public life is, generally speaking, a form of moral myopia. The new government hospital may have cost 20% more than it ought to have, but if its opening is blocked by a public inquiry, which could drag on for years, thousands of poor people will suffer.
Consider the July 22 trust vote in the Indian parliament. The Communists, who have everywhere in India a reputation for (relative) honesty, are also known for their doctrinaire and inflexible politics. For ideological reasons for example, a reflexive hatred of the US they would have toppled the government, and plunged the country into political uncertainty. We don't know if there is any truth to the charges of bribery that are flying around Delhi; but like many Indians, I assume that at least one or two of the MPs who mysteriously changed their votes did so for the wrong reasons. And I'm glad that they did so. If they had stuck to their principles, and voted against the government, the country would be reeling, the stock market would have crumbled to dust, and the economy would have ground to a halt.
Like most people who live in India, I complain about corruption, but know that I can live with corrupt men. It is the honest ones I secretly worry about.
Aravind Adiga has been longlisted for the Booker prize, for his novel The White Tiger.
Aravind Adiga: Indians are most suspicious of honest politicians | Comment is free | guardian.co.uk
