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Journalism of Courage
It is becoming increasingly clear that the Kosi floods reflect not just a one-off failure of the state, but deep disarray in our development paradigm for the region. As human misery continues to mount, the range of reactions is predictable. The first is the unhelpful blame game: Bihar blames the Centre, the Centre Bihar, elements from both blame Nepal; Nepal in turn looks to India for compensation. The second is the seeming disarray in relief operations. The enormity of the task suggests one should be cautious about underestimating the difficulties at hand. But there is little doubt that the structures of the state were simply not up to the challenge.
Matters have arguably been made worse by politicians deciding that this is more an occasion for competitive politics than constructive partnership, with the railway minister more intent on confusing lines of authority, than solving problems. The degree to which flood relief is still trotted out in the language of noblesse oblige is shocking for a democratic society. What was a sad old story of embankments not being repaired, under every regime, has now become a veritable nightmare. Nature it seems can change; our politicians cannot.
Much has been written about the necessity and possibilities of India-Nepal cooperation, about the opportunities to create win-win situations, but there has been relatively little progress. Despite rhetorical gestures and commitments to explore joint projects, it is not clear that there is going to be progress amongst the states of South Asia to manage their shared geographical destinies better, anytime soon. This will require magnanimity, a willingness to overcome real and imagined historical resentments, and pragmatism about development, that the states of the region cannot seem to commit themselves to. So our borderlands remain these nether zones of underdevelopment, abridged from their natural geography, less likely to be physically well-connected to the rest of the country, and also its mental consciousness. They are frontline victims of nation-state ideologies in the region.
The second issue this has opened up is our understanding of flood plains and their management. What is disquieting about this episode is not simply that there was no timely action on monitoring the breach, but the very premises of our flood control policy are being called into question. What needs to be done is a matter for experts to determine. But it is striking the degree to which the intellectual premises of our flood control policy seem to have gone into a kind of intellectual auto pilot, not able to assess the consequences of its own past interventions. The variance in discharge in North Indian rivers is such that our policies of encroaching on flood plains are misguided. Perhaps only a great flood in Delhi caused by the embankment of the Yamuna will concentrate our minds on a national flood plains strategy. By all accounts, this issue of how we manage our flood plains will become increasingly relevant for the rest of India as well.
The third issue is going to be one of state capacity. It is no secret that Bihar8217;s state capacity had been systematically decimated over the past two decades, and the recent turnaround in rebuilding is still tenuous. For most Indian states we do not have a systematic mapping of whether the state8217;s capacities match the frontline functions it is supposed to perform: how many engineers or health workers we have, what capacities they bring and so forth. Only in a disaster is this secret revealed. Many commentators have pointed out the crucial link between corruption and the choice and quality of projects we choose to invest in. There may be a story to be told about the relationship between embankments and corruption. But we should also not delude ourselves into thinking that corruption is the only source of weakness in the state. But the second aspect of state capacity is the ability for the state to prioritise. The strongest argument for the reform of the state is not to allow the private sector. It is the recognition that a state with too many limbs flailing all over the place is not likely to be well-coordinated when it comes to basic priorities.
The fourth issue is going to be the architecture of compensation and relief. If the reports of the amount of unproductive silt and gravel the Kosi is carrying are true, then there is little doubt that this flood episode will have long-lasting effects on the productivity of the region. This is a region already at the margins of existence, and there is no doubt that large numbers of people will require not just compensation, but support to rehabilitate them in different livelihoods. There is no evidence that we have any strategy in place for this.
Finally, there is the complicated question of our relationship to this enormous misery. We were all a bit slow in recognising what a national calamity this has been. As more news has come in, public consciousness has risen from its slumber; and as always, there have been brave volunteers soldiering in the field against great odds. But the striking thing about our discourse is this. We often think of civil society as filling in for the failures of the state. It could be argued that in these cases the relationship is the opposite. As the credibility of the state erodes literally, as its ability to stand in for public purpose diminishes and its ability to direct operations comes into question, civil society also falls into disarray. How does one constructively channel the reservoirs of sympathy and willingness to contribute on such occasions? Public willingness does not translate into public purpose without the mediating role of the state. In all likelihood, the systems that are in place will do some palliative relief work. But we will be discussing the same issues again, year after year as the same pictures of misery come in.
The writer is president, Centre for Policy Research, Delhi
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