The larger picture they reveal hasn’t attracted the requisite attention: the growing disconnect between the “hardware” and the “software” of Indian democracy. The “hardware” of democracy include legislative and executive institutions (Parliament, state assemblies, panchayats etc), the judiciary, official statutory and non-statutory bodies, political parties and the media. And the “software” relates to the observance of rules and regulations, conventions and precedents to enable the institutions to function in a transparent, accountable and effective manner. What is the record?
Judged according to these standards, our Parliament and state assemblies are little more than a hotbed of interminable intrigue, confrontation, mudslinging, filibustering and sometimes also outbursts of violence. This numbs the nerves of the executive and paralyses the legislature. The one cannot govern while the other cannot enact laws, adopt policies or, so far as the opposition is concerned, even act as a watch-dog of the government of the day. What stands out, therefore, is a mockery of their constitutional responsibilities.
The political parties are no better. Their public spats are less about policies and programmes and more about the acquisition of power and pelf. Many of them are akin to privately-controlled family businesses. Inner-party democracy is a rumour to them. The Congress, which has had the longest innings in power since independence, leads the pack. But others are not far behind: Thackerays and Badals, Karunanidhis and Pawars, Reddys and Yadavs. And then you have individuals without kith or kin who rule the roost in their parties: Mamata, Mayawati, Jayalalithaa, Patnaik et al. None dares cross their path. What “software” of democracy can they possibly bring to the table? Precious little.
But these permanently feuding parties from one end of the political spectrum to another can and do make common cause when their interests as a corporate class are in jeopardy. Consider their opposition to any serious effort to keep politicians with criminal backgrounds at bay. Consider, too, the alacrity with which they refused to come within the purview of the Right to Information Act. Such “software” contains far too many bugs to serve any worthwhile purpose.
The ailments of the judiciary, including, in the first place, that of the Supreme Court, are of another order. The alleged moral turpitude of some of the judges is only one of them. Even on this count, however, the judiciary is loath to allow an impartial and transparent probe by anyone other than the members of its own fraternity. The most recent instance concerns allegations of sexual misconduct against a recently retired judge of the apex court by an intern.
Add to this the growing interference of the apex court in legislative and executive areas that are, strictly speaking, beyond its remit. It is argued, doubtless with good reason, that such interference is inevitable when the government and the legislature are unable or unwilling or both to shoulder their constitutionally-mandated tasks. Governance, like nature, abhors a vacuum. But the danger in this argument is that it upsets the delicate balance of power between the three estates of the republic that the Constitution decrees. On this count, too, a lethal virus could render the “software” of democracy obsolete.
That danger is no less acute when governments, both at the Centre and in the states, deploy official agencies to get even with rivals. More often than not, such deployment is initiated outside the framework of laws, rules and regulations. Fake encounters and fabricated cases are evidence of this conceited insouciance.
But so is the intrusive surveillance of citizens suspected of making life difficult for the rulers of the day: rival politicians, nosey media persons, uncooperative civilian and police officials, NGOs. We recently witnessed such conduct in, among other states, Uttar Pradesh, Haryana and Gujarat. Surveillance of this nature, especially if it is pervasive, also contaminates the “software” of democracy.
The cases of Tarun Tejpal and Shoma Chaudhary of Tehelka and of Asaram Bapu fall in a different category. They relate to an unforgiveable betrayal of trust reposed in them by their readers, friends, colleagues and followers. What makes the betrayal odious is that these individuals professed to promote highfalutin principles of moral and spiritual rectitude. All three of them emasculated the substance of their calling and, in the process, polluted the “software” that is expected to keep state and society in India in fine fettle.