India is a democracy. This is supposed to mean rule by the people, or their representatives. But if you check out with voters – at least in Goa – you will find that most do not like many of the decisions of the government. Some voters might even be furious about them; and almost everybody feels helpless. Like when the members of the Goa government recently awarded themselves a hike in pay – how many of the voters of Goa agreed with this decision?
How many in Pernem support the recent zoning changes proposed by the government, converting huge swathes of non-settlement zone land into settlement? How many in Panjim like the incessant building and roadworks, and exorbitant projects of what can only be called ‘uglification’? How many across Goa like the great seemingly-unstoppable land-grab, which directly imperils the environment as well as the lives of all vulnerable peoples, even as there remains – according to official sources – a backlog of 16,000 hectares of destroyed forest waiting for afforestation?
Also, shouldn’t people in the government face punishment for their many and growing failures? Wouldn’t parents of Goan school children feel a strong need for some punishment handed out to the government officers responsible for midday meals, under whose watch worm-ridden food was served to school kids – instead of just dropping the particular supplier and getting another? And wouldn’t we have expected some punishment similarly for the scandalous collapse of the Kala Academy stage roof after spending crores of public money on its supposed repair? And for the absolutely criminal poison being added to our fish?
The list can go on and on – especially if you include what the central government has been doing of late, like arresting journalists under the draconian Unlawful Activities Prevention Act (UAPA). What seems to be increasingly clear is that, though we are formally a democracy, the people have very little say in what the government does, nor can we hold them accountable for their actions. Instead, we have governments working towards their own interests, functioning in a completely non-transparent fashion, and often using force against the people to get their way, so that, increasingly, the only way the people can find themselves heard is through extra-electoral and popular action, ie by taking to the streets. We saw this with the long farmer agitation in Delhi, and in Goa with the IIT Goa campus and other projects, and with the Pernem zoning proposal now – the government ignores the people, pushes ahead with its projects with all speed and force, and only backs down when faced with a desperate populace ready to fight and suffer the consequences. Is this rule by the people?
Now elections are on us once again. State-level polls for five states, which the media is describing as the preliminary round for the general elections next year. But who believes that elections will improve things?
No one. Resignation or cynicism is the norm. We have come to believe that things will not change, even that they cannot change, that democracy can only be this frustrating experience of voting for the ‘lesser evil’, or for charismatic politicians, with all the back-slapping and first-name-familiarity common in Goa, or for the politician who scatters the most money; and then of finding even our basic means of sustenance coming under threat from the government’s actions; and of being inordinately grateful when they keep even one small people-friendly promise.
But it was not always like this. As David Graeber and David Wengrow point out in their international bestseller ‘The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity’ (2021), people of the past, in different parts of the world, developed different ways to ensure that they would not be taken for a ride by those who were given power. Long before parliamentary democracies appeared in the world, in Tlaxcala (an indigenous American republic, and contemporary of the Aztecs), those who aspired to join the ruling council – far from displaying their personal charisma or outdoing their rivals – had to display intense self-deprecation, or even shame. They were required to subordinate themselves before the people, to face public criticism and abuse – in order to destroy any sense of ambition – and then, to undergo a long period of seclusion in which the aspiring politician suffered ordeals of ‘sleep deprivation, fasting, blood-letting, and a strict regime of moral instruction’. Even in Europe, ancient Greek writers spoke of how elections usually throw up charismatic leaders with tyrannical aspirations. This is why, for most of European history, the truly democratic way of filling offices was assumed to be by lottery.
If things could be different in the past, why do we imagine that they can’t change now? There have been moves from the top for cosmetic change – like NOTA, which is a toothless tiger since even a majority of NOTA votes mean nothing electorally, and the recently-cleared Women’s Reservation Act, which is not going to be implemented any time soon. Why would those in power want to rock the boat?
But there are lots of better ideas in the air – outside the establishment. Like the demand to change from the first-past-the-post system to that of proportionate representation, where power is shared between everyone who gets votes, not just the so-called ‘winner’. Or a return to the separate electorates system, broached by Dr Ambedkar and accepted by the British during the Round Table Conferences, where oppressed groups get their own representatives. The ‘right to recall’ the elected already exists in other countries. Another good idea would be to allow only one term in power per individual, so that ‘career politicians’ become a thing of the past, and more people take part in politics. An income and property cap, or ‘creamy layer’, is surely required too, to keep the current millionaires/billionaires out, and bring politics closer to the ground reality of the average voter.
All these are hardly impossible to achieve. Maybe it will take time but we have to push for change now, or watch as this dictatorship-in-the-name-of-democracy finishes whatever is left of our world.
(Amita Kanekar is an architectural historian and novelist)
