Hunger Fasts and Sluggish Democracy

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Hazare’s fast, it must be said, has generated some very lively debate about the pros and cons of extra-constitutional methods that politics in our country often takes. Quite a few people argue that the system is broken beyond repair and the only solution would be one that comes from outside the system itself. Some on the other hand raise questions about the direction this movement is taking, and justifiably so. This sort of direct action, while purportedly peaceful, often has some pretty ugly fall-outs which we’ve seen ever since Gandhi pioneered this form of politics in our country (and I hope to write more on the history of extra-constitutional methods in later posts).

A common complaint from the anti-Hazare camp though is that this method of process undermines representative democracy by giving powers to a person on the ludicrous basis of the his or her capacity to live on, or eventually die, without food. Here’s how Pratap Bhanu Mehta starts of his editorial in the Indian Express:

“Sometimes a sense of unbridled virtue can also subvert democracy. The agitation by civil society activists over the Jan Lokpal Bill is a reminder of this uncomfortable truth. There is a great deal of justified consternation over corruption. The obduracy of the political leadership is testing the patience of citizens. But the movement behind the Jan Lokpal Bill is crossing the lines of reasonableness. It is premised on an institutional imagination that is at best naïve; at worst subversive of representative democracy.”

Prima facie, the point is a cogent one. But the point assumes one given condition: that India is a representative democracy.

What is a representative democracy? Simply put, it’s one in which elected representatives represent the people, because direct democracy, i.e. actually involving the people directly in government is not feasible. It is,therefore, assumed that these elected represtatives will act as the voice of the people. Well and good, so far.

However, in India, our elected representatives cannot act as the voice of the people who voted them to power because of a nifty little provision called the Anti-Defection Law which effectively forces a representative to vote as per his party high command’s wishes.

So, for example, if we have a constituency which has a number of factories of X industry and at the moment Parliament is debating a bill which would slap heavy taxes on that industry, logically the constituency’s MP should do everything in his power to defeat the bill and naturally vote against it. That would be representative democracy in action. The MP acts as the voice of his constituency. But in India that is not how it happens. If it so happens that his party wants the bill to be passed, this MP, elected to represent his constituency, will have to actually stab his constituency in the back or risk disqualification.

In such a case one wonders how much sense it would actually make to call India a representative democracy. Maybe we'd need to invent a new term?

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A related post: A Very Costly Bill

Diss

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I’m usually not the nimblest of people when it comes to keeping up with slang but there is one word, apparently originating from Black rap, that I really like: diss. The word is rather usefull in a number of situations and, conveniently, conveys a shade of meaning that is a bit different from its mother word, disrespectful. Its rise, incidently, has been precipitous. I don’t remember it even existing, at least in an Indian context, five or so years back; today everyone’s using it. In fact it even made it to the Guardian today, in an article by Pankaj Mishra no less:

“….even dissing their murderous Hindu nationalism as opportunistic, a mere “talking point”

Good stuff.

English? #Fail

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For all our chest-beating about how important English has been to our economic rise, a recent survey ranks India 29th out off 44 countries in fluency of speaking English. To put that in perspective, China, a country against whom our trump card is supposed to be our knowledge of English, ranks just a place below us at 30.In fact, the Chinese people of Taiwan beat us by ranking four places ahead of us.

The Johnson blog at the Economist blames the elitism inherent in India’s approach towards English:

“Finally, one surprising result is that China and India are next to each other (29th and 30th of 44) in the rankings, despite India’s reputation as more Anglophone. Mr Hult says that the Chinese have made a broad push for English (they're "practically obsessed with it”). But efforts like this take time to marinade through entire economies, and so may have avoided notice by outsiders. India, by contrast, has long had well-known Anglophone elites, but this is a narrow slice of the population in a country considerably poorer and less educated than China. English has helped India out-compete China in services, while China has excelled in manufacturing. But if China keeps up the push for English, the subcontinental neighbour's advantage may not last.”

If language/linguistics interests you, the blog is highly recommended, by the way.

And since Gandhi’s methods and thoughts seem to be the flavour of the season—so influential has been Hazare’s fast that even Pappu Yadav, the Bihar strongman and convicted murderer, has gone on a bhook hartal against corruption—here’s an excerpt from a speech given by the Mahatma in 1916:

“I am hoping that this University (he was speaking at the Benares Hindu University) will see to it that the youths who come to it will receive their instruction through the medium of their vernaculars. Our languages the reflection of ourselves, and if you tell me that our languages are too poor to express the best thought, then say that the sooner we are wiped out of existence the better for us. Is there a man who dreams that English can ever become the national language of India? Why this handicap on the nation? Just consider for one moment what an equal race our lads have to run with every English lad.

I had the privilege of a close conversation with some Poona professors. They assured me that every Indian youth, because he reached his knowledge through the English language, lost at least six precious years of life. Multiply that by the numbers of students turned out by our schools and colleges, and find out for yourselves how many thousand years have been lost to the nation.”

Chokers

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I'm usually a nice sort of boy but I felt this piece of Internet vandalism was sorely needed. Here's a snapshot of the Wikipedia article on Choker, updated post the World Cup's third quarter final match:

Heh.

Punjabi Link of the Day

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Quite a few of you must have heard the Coke Studio song Jugni. Not my favourite Coke Studio song (I might be biased though--I don't know any Punjabi and I tend not to like songs I can't understand) but if Google is any indicator, it's the show's most popular song. But just what is the symbolism of Jugni and why it's such a popular trope in Punjabi music (it's made quite a few Bollywood appearances as well) is explained by this fascinating post on Kafila.

In 1906, the 50th anniversary of Queen Victoria’s reign, a Jubilee flame was taken across the British Empire to celebrate her rule. The flame, carried in a large gold container, was taken to the every district headquarters. As the flame arrived, the district government was supposed to greet it with pomp and ceremony. When the flame reached Punjab, there was nascent freedom struggle anger against the Empire brewing. Bishna and Manda followed the flame from district to district, performing their own poetry and folk music parallel to the pomp of the colonial government. Their versions contained references to Jugni, the rebellious woman. Bishna and Manda had misheard the word ‘Jubilee’ for Jugni and started writing verses that channelled the anger of the region against the British as symbolised by the Jubilee flame. As they travelled behind the flame, their popularity grew; people from all around came to attend their performances. Jugni became a metaphor for the growing unrest against the British.

British Humour

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Bernardo Hees, Burger King’s CEO, has apparently described the UK’s women and food as “terrible”.

The Independent, while reporting this, slipped in a snarky little come-back. The last line of their report, out of the blue, has this to say:

A Burger King Double Whopper with cheese contains 950 calories, half of a woman's recommended daily calorie intake.

As if to say, “we might be ugly but it’s because of you”.

Wrong End of the Stick

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The wise people at the Times of India published this amazing little one-liner as part of their Friday dine-out section:


Lent is of course a Christian tradition commemorated through abstinence and self-denial. Practically, most of it takes the form of giving up certain foods, meat being the most common, from what I've seen. In other words, using an all-you-can-eat food orgy to "mark the festival of Lent" is fairly unorthodox.

All that aside, however, Bernardo's is a nice place. I used to go there quite a bit to get my fill of fish (not many places where you get good fish in Delhi).

Also, why is there a question mark in the title?