THE last year witnessed an interesting development in the political arena: the ‘anti-corruption’ agitation. Many have been tempted to see it as an expansion of democracy. In one sense, this might well be true: just as the ’90s saw an expansion of democracy (described as a ‘second democratic upsurge’), with a pronounced shift of power to the OBCs, the anti-corruption agitation has aroused hopes that the large-scale participation of people may lead to a further strengthening and expansion of democracy.

The democratic upsurge of the ’90s had both a quantitative and social dimension. Many new sections then entered the electoral political arena in large numbers. The moment inaugurated (though we do not yet know how far it will sustain itself) by the anti-corruption agitation has articulated concerns about both quality and outcomes. Does our democratic politics produce democratic governance? Do we need to ensure substantialization of democratic procedures? Do we need to reform the polity? These are indeed valid questions. The answers the agitation has so far thrown up are, however, hugely problematic, though they have captured the imagination of the educated urban middle classes. The answers and tone indicate that the current moment may well be a moment of spurious democracy.

Two themes have dominated this current ‘wave’ of democracy in India: one is an anxiety about corruption as the core issue before politics and governance in the country, and the other is a deep-seated suspicion of the politician and of politics more generally. Imprisoned in these two themes, the new discourse on democracy can easily morph into an anti-politics position, one that runs counter to the idea of making our politics more democratic.

Before we turn to the proposals made by the supporters of the current democracy movement, let us first quickly review the context in which these proposals have emerged. While many political forces attempted to ride piggyback on the anti-corruption agitation, the agitation itself remained quite independent of (and even suspicious about) party politics. Second, most political parties went on the back foot in responding to the agitation. The refrain was: ‘Yes, corruption is an important issue and we seriously need to do something about it; and yes, though we ourselves might be responsible for it, we are ready for stricter regulation of public life.’ In a sense, the impression created was that many politicians pleaded guilty. While this introspection in itself may have provided a good beginning, it had a tragi-comic side to it as well. There was a rush to Ralegan Siddhi (Anna Hazare’s village) requesting him to ‘look into this or that matter’, even as he in turn assured them that he would take appropriate action.

Two tendencies combined to produce sympathy and support from a cross-section of society for the anti-corruption agitation. One relates to the disappointment over the way the political system functions and our political class has behaved. The sentiment against ‘politics’ was a binding factor in support of the anti-corruption agitation. The other tendency provides a deeper critique of the liberal democratic system alongside an ambition to make India’s democracy more democratic by pumping it with a ‘booster’ dose.

In the case of the former, the disappointment is understandable. The route and the logic for supporting the anti-corruption movement may have been varied, but it induced a cross-section to support the cause. The political class has undoubtedly failed us in more ways than one. Corruption is only one visible aspect of that failure – in fact more than corruption it is the crass self-aggrandizement that has repelled many people from the ‘politician’. One has only to look at the mindless banners and hoardings displayed across our cities begging for attention. This is being understood as ‘doing politics’. But the larger failure relates to the inability of the political class to shape a viable public interest. This overall disappointment provides a basis for the current aggressive criticism of the political class and the political system in general.

 

Seizing this moment of disappointment, a group of ambitious activists from the voluntary non-governmental sector sought to use the issue of corruption as a symbol of the failure of the political system. The Jan Lokpal Bill is a small instance of the ambition to rewrite the institutional design. It involves a radical regulation of all public servants, propounds a belief in the righteousness of the few well-intentioned regulators, and enunciates steps towards more drastic measures to address the political malaise. The agitation was suspended, not just with a threat hanging over the Parliament about how it should function, but also with the possibility of more radical propositions in the future: legislatures must consider proposals from the citizens, representatives must be subjected to recall and elections must consist of voters’ right to reject (all candidates), among others.

Taken together, these three and other similar proposals mark a departure from the existing institutional design of liberal democracy and attempt to introduce radical democracy of a more participatory and deliberative nature. The difficulty in engaging with such propositions is that they contain a populist tinge; any opposition to them can easily be termed anti-democratic. The proposals also find a resonance among the public generally, because should not democracy mean more participation by citizens in the functioning of their government? So, the core issue appears to be the tension between representative democracy and radical direct democracy.

 

Let us look at the three key proposals that are being discussed. All three relate to the issue of representative democracy – the assumption being that representative democracy is inadequate and unrepresentative. From the point of view of feasibility, perhaps the least controversial is the proposal that voters should have the right to reject all candidates. Though there already exists a provision for this, the demand is for a mechanism to reject through a separate alternative available anonymously on the electronic voting machine (EVM) itself. In itself this appears to be quite reasonable. If voters can reject the panel of candidates by writing in a register, why should it not be possible by simply pushing a button on the EVM? Of course, such a reform will have to consider what proportion of such ‘reject all’ responses would make the election in a given constituency liable to be cancelled or countermanded.

Since there will always be a small minority that disagrees with all candidates, the threshold will have to be thought out carefully. One will also need to decide when and how a representative is finally elected from such a constituency. Otherwise there is a danger that the constituency will either go unrepresented or government formation will take place in the absence of a representative from such constituencies. The proponents of the reform are, of course, unconcerned with these issues because they probably disagree with the idea that choice from among the available options lies at the heart of the system of elections, and indeed at the heart of the idea of politics.

 

Public initiatives for consideration of legislative proposals is another attractive idea. The Jan Lokpal draft proposal was a classic example of such an attraction. The idea is simple: in a democracy, any citizen can suggest legislation. The issue remains: when does it become mandatory for the legislature to consider the suggestion? And what does consideration mean? It would be patently problematic if someone were to say that I am proposing this legislation and I know it is best for the country or a state; ergo, it must be considered (and adopted) by the legislature.

During the Lokpal agitation we saw activists thronging the homes of representatives, asking them to give in writing that they would support the Jan Lokpal draft. That our representatives are so bankrupt to have either escaped by giving their assent or ducking the issue is another matter. To prove the point that everyone wanted the draft to be passed, the agitators initiated a signature campaign and also reportedly resorted to polling in some constituencies. So, it can be legitimately asked if such expressions of public support should be taken as democratic support for law making and policy making. It is conceivable that if we were to adopt this criterion, passing a legislation resolving the Babri Masjid dispute could have happened long ago during the rathyatra or Ram shila pujan.

Some humility would have convinced the leaders of the current agitation that in matters of defining and designing public interest, there is always the possibility of multiple alternatives. So, the idea of a public initiative can be deeply problematic because of the question about who represents whom or what, and how society authenticates the representativeness of one claim over another. The opponents of representative democracy would want us to believe that either the public expresses itself so unambiguously and in one voice that any aggregation and representation is unnecessary or that some sections (the wise middle class?), voices (the ever correct media?), organizations (so-called civil society?) or saintly leaders (Anna Hazare?) represent/articulate the public interest in a more authentic manner.

 

The third measure, the right to recall, is by far the most attractive for radical democrats and opponents of representative democracy. Again, like the other measures, it has deep-rooted feasibility issues, the most primary one being whether the non-voters will be entitled to voice their opinion in the recall process. Also, given the wide range of expectations voters have from their representatives, there will be very few representatives about whom some section of voters are not dissatisfied. Therefore, the proportion of voters required for initiating the recall process and the proportion required for actual unseating remain the other critical issues.

But more than the practical complications – about which the proponents of the measure must explain – the real question concerns the principle itself. The idea of recall negates the possibility of the representatives coming to an independent conclusion. Thus, recall reduces the institution of representation to one of a delegate or deputy. Moreover, the threat of recall would keep the representative under constant pressure of only catering to the constituency at the cost of larger policy issues or issues of greater public interest.

It is unclear whether proponents of the recall measure make the suggestion from a genuine concern about the lack of accountability of elected representatives or from a deep-seated suspicion of the idea of representation. If it is only the former, there can be discussion over alternatives, because nobody would dare support the irresponsible ways in which some representatives act at times. But contempt for representative democracy in favour of some form of ‘direct democracy’ is likely to weaken the very democratic process that the radical democrats want to strengthen.

While criticizing the way representatives behave or perform, it is necessary that we also appreciate the institution of representation and the tasks involved in representation. There is a tendency to ridicule all that goes with representation – characteristic of this tendency is the cry for reducing the facilities and allowances that representatives get. Anna Hazare has made a statement that probably resonates with the sentiments of the critics of representative democracy. He said that if representatives do not want to ‘serve’ the people, they should quit; why do they want so many allowances? Such an approach to the institution and functioning of representative democracy is deeply harmful to democracy, besides being superficially idealistic.

 

The proposals espoused by the anti-corruption agitation, nevertheless, alert us to the weak spots in democratic practice at two levels. First, and very validly, these proposals draw attention to the limits and distortions in the functioning of the representative form of democracy. Second, they also bring to centre-stage the limits of the system of representative democracy as practised in our country.

The practice surely leaves much to be desired. For representative government to function effectively, parties must be active and democratic. Do our parties match up to this expectation? Those active in the field of party reform and democratization of parties have long argued for a more democratic reorganization of political parties. The limitations of such suggestions notwithstanding, it is true that it is not easy for an ordinary person to get involved in party work. In this sense, our parties are primarily sub-democratic. Moreover, the fundamental problem with our parties is that they do not bother to engage with diverse expectations and aspirations; they do not ‘do politics’. Therefore, both in the field of institutions of governance and in political institutions, we require changes in both approach and attitude.

The supporters of ‘booster democracy’ need to be given credit for initiating a critical review of these institutions and practices. Their proposals also bring forth some crucial dilemmas facing democracy, and those faced by our democracy in particular. An awareness of these dilemmas would certainly make the discourse and practice of democracy much richer.

 

A fundamental dilemma facing us relates to the tendency to first create institutions and then institute mechanisms to watch those institutions because self-regulation does not work. Democracy as a routine mechanism of governance requires institutions, but institutions have an inbuilt tendency to misuse power. Therefore, the complex web of institutions and counter-institutions becomes almost endless. While the pluralist will likely be happy with such a situation, we also need to consider the governance implications of this scenario. Our own experience in India is perhaps instructive. If one lists the institutions that we have created, it makes for impressive reading. However, imagining institutions is not the issue, making them function is. The current crisis is mainly about institutions not working in the spirit of their creation.

 

The core problem is, of course, about the institution of representation itself. We briefly mentioned the limits of the functioning of political parties. Similarly, legislatures do not function in ways they are designed to. They do not legislate; when they do, the drafts are poor, discussions inadequate and the loopholes endless. Legislatures do not produce accountability of the executive. When they protest, it leads to pandemonium rather than accountability. When they debate, it becomes theatre (remember the debate on the Indo-US nuclear deal?). When they produce a semblance of an agreement, it smacks of collusion (raising the limit of area development funds for representatives). When there is a no-confidence motion, we do not know who is buying whose vote. When members ask questions, the shadow of a possible cash-for-question scandal envelops the query.

For each of these aberrations there are institutional correctives. But everyone, including the right-thinking legislators, remain skeptical as to whether the mechanism will work or be sabotaged. The skill to sabotage institutions appears to be neutralizing the skill to create institutions. When self-regulation fails, nothing works in a democracy. This failure at self-regulation applies to almost every branch and layer of government. Hence, the popular attraction for drastic measures to cut representative institutions to size.

The other dilemma pertains to participation. Democracy facilitates and requires citizen participation, but access to participatory capacities is often unequal among different sections of citizens. Therefore, to ensure that those with more endowments for participation (such as education, status, class, gender and so on) do not take undue advantage, institutional arrangements enforce a levelling of all citizens and their participation to the relatively lower and minimum level – an unsatisfactory arrangement from the point of view of fuller democracy. If on the contrary, institutional arrangements provide for/mandate more active participation, it is bound to institutionally reproduce the pre-existing social asymmetries in the political arena as well. Thus, measures of direct democracy are likely to facilitate institutional arrangements for the upper castes/classes to entrench their interests in the guise of public interest.

The proposals reviewed above, even if unlikely to destabilize representative democracy, remain problematic because they have the propensity to allow sections of people with skills of political expression to ‘represent’ what the public says and wants. While the methods may appear to be more democratic, they are likely to render the character of the public sphere less democratic (inclusive).

 

A democratic imagination presupposes an equal, intelligent and active citizenry. The empirical reality of all societies, however, is one of a disjunction between political equality and socio-economic stratification. Therefore, the challenge for any democratic system is to ensure political equality despite an absence of equality in other spheres. This can be achieved by forcing political democracies to become drivers of social democracy; and until that is achieved, political democracy must function through the institutional arrangement which hinges on minimal participation rather than maximum participation. Any effort to institutionally expand participation might end up unhinging the political levelling that democracy has achieved. In short, this limitation of democracy will always be in tension with democratic aspirations.

Proposals for democratic expansion/substantialization fail to take cognizance of these dilemmas because they suffer from ‘code mixing’ in their critique and alternatives. Representatives are expected to ‘serve’ the interests of the ‘constituents’, but it is not clear if they are also supposed to be serving the cause of public interest. As a result, when we reject all candidates, are we doing so because all of them are deemed personally unfit/unsuitable to represent a given constituency, or do we reject them because they/their parties have taken certain positions that we disagree with or is it because we distrust all parties?

 

Here is a two-fold code mixing – first, a cross-code between individual candidates and the party and second, a mixing of the constituency and the requirements of larger public interest. The third complication (or code mixing) emerges between the democratic code and the idea of a wise and good leader. While democracy strives to locate a good leader, the phenomenon of a wise (saintly and selfless) leader does not ipso facto bring democracy, but the supporters of democratic reform seem to believe that a wise leader is a signifier of true democracy.

The unease about the proposals for booster democracy (that are currently making the rounds) relates to their ambiguity – almost bordering rejection – regarding the idea of representation. A democracy without representatives will surely attract some, since it has a romantic evocativeness, but will it lead to an enriching of the substance of our democracy?