Hindustan Times: New
delhi: Sunday, September 29, 2013.
I got a big,
fat zero in a school biology exam once. I helped a classmate with the drawing
of a plant cell, being especially proficient in the depiction of golgi bodies.
But it turned
out that there was a rule against cheating, and no matter how noble I felt
helping out a friend, both of us faced the grim consequence of conducting an
illegal act.
Now, if I had
been in politics then, I suspect things would have been markedly different.
First, I would have announced that a charge of cheating against me was actually
a conspiracy by some other competing students trying to drag my marks in that
term down.
This appeal
would have resulted in the focus shifting from the real issue - us engaged in
cheating - to the cunning strategies used by diabolical teenagers to put fellow
students down.
Added to
this, the very fact that I had helped a classmate who was from a minority
community (nope, not Muslim!) would have certainly made it hard for the school
authorities to take any action against us.
But school
life is far more severe than political life in this country. To protect honest
politicians from political conspiracies, the whole bushel must be protected,
rotten apples and all.
When on July
10, the Supreme Court ruled that any member of Parliament or legislative
assembly convicted of an offence punishable by more than two years in jail
would be immediately disqualified from the office he holds, the bogeyman of
trumped-up charges against poor politicians were immediately invoked by, um,
politicians.
Based on the
existing Representation of the People Act, 1961, such a person would also be
barred from contesting elections from the date of conviction until six years
after his release. Over the years, that law has been made to sound downright
anti-democratic.
What those
appalled by the Supreme Court ruling were saying was that MPs and MLAs would
suddenly be exposed to dire 'competitive' forces that would file false cases
against all politicians and jeopardise and stall the very functioning of Indian
politics. Their argument: to ensure that a bent copper didn't stop your car to
demand a bribe, one should do away with traffic laws.
So the
central government, if memory serves me right, went into an overdrive to push
for an ordinance to overturn the Supreme Court ruling. This executive act,
invoking as always 'judicial overreach', sought to continue to cover MPs and
MLAs with a prophylactic latex sheath so that it could still freely conduct
intercourse with the Indian public without getting bogged down with
responsibilities or unintended consequences.
The
representatives of the people, went the logic of the UPA Cabinet ministers
earlier last week, couldn't afford to be bogged down by popular notions of the
law. Thankfully, later last week, the same lot flipped and followed the Pied
Piper of Congress when the flautist considered by the party to be far more important
than the Congress prime minister publicly opposed the ordinance and effectively
spelt its demise.
To be fair,
not everyone within the government had been comfortable with the proposed
ordinance. Minister of State Milind Deora was one who publicly stated last week
on Twitter that "legalities aside allowing convicted MPs/MLAs 2 retain
seats in the midst of an appeal can endanger already eroding public faith in
democracy". But hard-nosed politicians such as finance minister P
Chidambaram and law minister Kapil Sibal kept the ordinance flag flying.
The BJP,
whether after a change of heart or not, had also decided to oppose the
ordinance. Perhaps, with a BS Yeddyurappa waiting to be reinducted into the
party, the BJP's opposition was more aligned to oppositional politics rather
than to a demand to refabricate Indian realpolitik.
But it didn't
matter. To pass the ordinance would have been a slap on the Indian public, a
slap that would have accompanied the homily about it being for the nation's
good.
There has
been little shame and few derailments of professional careers among Indian
politicians going to jail. Part of this is because of a tradition of making
jailed politicians a worthy successor to pre-1947 freedom fighters and
Emergency-era anti-Congress leaders who 'filled prisons'.
Part of this
is also because for far too many politicians, protection from the law is the
very reason why they joined politics in the first place.
If Manmohan
and his honest hombres had earlier thought it fit to push through this
ordinance because of 'coalition compulsions', I'll bet my last golgi body that
this won't be the last time we'll see the 'turbaned cop-dimpled cop' routine.
That's the
only explanation for Rahul Gandhi not quietly telling the PM, "Boss, screw
that ordinance", instead of turning it into a civil disobedience movement.
The effect, after all, would have been the same - without the PM left holding
the can.
Perhaps, this
is a great time to check what the government thinks of bringing political
parties under the RTI. And then to check with the other guy.