The
Hindu: National: Friday, 20 November 2015.
Ten years of
implementation of the Right to Information Act has spawned a new breed of
activism and citizenship
The Right to
Information (RTI) Act has completed 10 years of implementation. According to a
conservative estimate based on the Information Commission’s annual reports,
there are at least 50 lakh RTI applications filed in India every year. The
Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative used the data to estimate that just under
1 per cent of the electorate uses the RTI every year. Over the last decade, at
least 2 per cent of the Indian population has used the law. For a law that
requires proactive initiative, those are extraordinarily high numbers.
Despite all
our justified complaining about poor implementation, bureaucratic resistance,
interference, absence of political and administrative support, threats against
users, and attempts at dilution, people have fiercely owned the law like no
other. They have defended it against every attack and put it to sustained use.
Popularity of
RTI
Many people
have tried to understand why the RTI has become so popular in India. Why does
use of the law continue to spread despite the odds stacked against the users
and applicants? What converts individuals into users and users into activists?
In the unequal battle of trying to hold power to account, perhaps it is the
real empowerment and sense of hope that the RTI offers to every citizen.
People need
to hope. About two decades ago, writer Arundhati Roy made a passing comment on
why peddlers of salvation, despite their unattainable promises, attract so many
people. They actually peddle hope. We want to be reassured that we can do
something to set things right. Bollywood films with happy endings, where the
single and determined fighter takes on all that is evil, are not only
three-hour escapades but indicators of our need to hope. The human desire for
dignity, equality, public ethics, and the capacity to enforce these even to
some extent needs an outlet. RTI, in many ways, offers that measure of hope.
In the world
of democratic politics, people face the bleak scenario of political, economic
and social promises being twisted to serve personal profit. Occasionally an
election re-infuses great hope. But political leadership apart, the long march
of attempting to make constitutional promises of equality and liberty is part
of the daily survival of millions of Indians. People struggle every day to
establish some reason in dealings in public life with assertions of
citizenship, entitlements, and ethics. Discussions and deliberations within
such groups and collectives gave birth to the process and principles of the RTI
movement. The genesis of the RTI addressed issues of constitutional rights:
empowering individuals and collectives to demand answers from a corrupt government.
In 1996, a
lawyer, who casually dropped in to talk at the first large RTI dharna in Beawar
in central Rajasthan, said, “This is a great cause and issue, but let’s forget
about ever getting the law. No corrupt system is going to expose its rotten
core.” Let us imagine for a moment that he was proved right, that India had not
passed a strong RTI law a decade ago. How different would things be?
The RTI is a
law that has spawned a new breed of activism and citizenship. RTI enthusiasts
do not only file RTI applications; they also spend countless hours debating
sections, cases, applications, and answers. These are ordinary people who have
suddenly become obsessed and even possessive about their particular connection
to this law. They are RTI’s foot soldiers and, at the same time, its generals,
who have used the law to shake India’s officialdom by its roots.
Questioning
authority
A decade
gives us an opportunity to see what RTI is doing to the much larger processes
of change. These are matters not of law, but of culture, of equations of power,
and of unquestioned norms. It is very rare that one gets an opportunity to not
just ask a question but change the basis of questioning. Without specifically
attempting to change relationships in society, the RTI has begun to do just
that. Without debating the hierarchies of who can ask questions and who must
provide answers, the Act has begun to encourage a culture of asking questions.
We are far from being an open society, but the RTI is opening our minds to what
such a society might be.
It’s not
often that one can see the impact of a law in terms of its social and
philosophical implications. The RTI is a process of dismantling illegitimate
concentrations of power. We can expose the lies and the cheating, not merely in
monetary terms, but unravel the promotion of conflict and exploitation of the
poor.
The RTI is
messy, untidy, incomplete, and, of course, imperfect. But that is its strength:
it acknowledges contention and builds its own theory of relativity. There are
many perspectives on each issue. The RTI provides a platform for each view to
engage with the other on the basis of a shared logic. It can help us escape
from policy paralysis, and build a more informed, equitable and robust
decision-making process.
A bureaucrat
friend, not particularly enamoured by the RTI, reluctantly conceded to us,
“There is one thing I must acknowledge when any government servant picks up a
pen to write on a file, he or she has RTI on their mind. This is one of the
best forms of deterrence against wrongdoing we can have.” That was an
acknowledgment of incredible universal impact covering everyone at all times.
If we want to usher in a paradigm of transparency, it is clear that bureaucrats
must have the friendly ghost of the RTI implanted in their psyche. And that is
how cultural change begins. As RTI users, we often say that the RTI helps
change the mindsets of those asking the questions as well, because the same
standards must obviously apply. More importantly, it is very likely that anyone
posing a challenge will invite one to themselves and just a willingness to be
prepared for such a situation means that an ethos of questioning is taking
birth.
It is widely
acknowledged that we are becoming a consumer-oriented, competitive society. In
fact our capitalist framework seems to encourage it. Should we not also
acknowledge other forces in society that are encouraging us to demand answers
of the powerful, use truth as a basis of demand for change, and provide tools
that strengthen the weak and make the strong accountable?
Let’s imagine
for a moment that India had not passed the RTI a decade ago. What would it be
like today? Not just a less accountable, more corrupt, opaque government, but
also a far more discouraging and despairing country. Despite what the sceptic
said in Beawar 20 years ago, India has passed a strong RTI law. The people of
Beawar held a meeting to celebrate ten years of the RTI, and said they had not
dreamt how far this would go in 20 years. Subsequently, the Municipal
Corporation of Beawar passed a unanimous resolution to build a memorial at the
spot at Chang Gate where the 40-day dharna took place in 1996, launching the
RTI movement in India. Its foundation stone was laid on October 13 this year.
To have a city celebrate a law and identify itself with it is a sign of strong
and sustained citizen activism. To have that sense of ownership spread across
the country should give the Indian citizen some hope of what the next ten years
might bring.
(Aruna
Roy and Nikhil Dey are social activists and members of the Mazdoor Kisan Shakti
Sangathan and the National Campaign for People’s Right to Information.)
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