Only on a Saturday

Something is happening to representative government. To begin with, its realm has been carved up into mutually exclusive compartments 8212; 8216;eco-nomic-administrative8217; and 8216;political8217;. This is not a new phenomenon, of course. The insulation of economic policy-making from populist-political pressures is an older process. And it is not a simple case of technocrats taking over the political space. It is, often, that the political class refuses to take the business of responsible government seriously. Politicians leave it all to the technocrats when they shirk the challenge of crafting imaginative policy frameworks.

In fact, it has been argued that the artificial partition creeping up at the heart of government was a reason why the previous regime met its comeuppance and that this one is committed to making economic policy more permeable to political demands. Yet, there have been enough signals to show that the basic process of alienation will go on as before 8212; with one crucial difference. The separation of the economic from the political, always a stealthy process, is now made brazenly physical. They have different addresses now, they will cross paths only on Saturdays.

What is more unprecedented is this: even that part of representative government that wasn8217;t being secreted away into the kingdom of experts, is now to be conducted away from the public glare. For economic policies, at least a visible line of ownership, if not accountability, is in place. Team Manmohan will leave its fingerprints on the budget, we can follow the trail to the good doctor8217;s desk. For political decisions, however, the buck gets tossed about between a plethora of advisory committees. Then it ducks behind 10 Janpath8217;s high security barricade.

But does anyone care? Public discussion seems complacent. After all, we know the reasons why. It is due to the schizophrenic circumstances in which this government was born. We gave Sonia the mandate and then willed her not to be PM. She bequeathed primeministership to Manmohan but by denying him a formal election by the Congress Parliamentary Party, withheld the authority to rule. The unnatural division of labour, the fuzzing of accountability, follows from the tightfisted nature of both our vote and her bequest.

It is the character of coalition politics, others will argue, which is rife with a million hidden negotiations. Coalition politics makes it so much more difficult to fix responsibility for policy outcomes.

It is a bit of both but it is more than that. The physical partition of representative government, retreat of the political and general public apathy are symptoms of a larger trend. At first glance, it appears to link up with what is currently happening in democracies in the west.

In Britain, a heavy pessimism has settled over democratic institutions and ideals. They are talking about the onset of 8216;post-democracy8217;. In post-democracy, governments conduct themselves like business firms. Decisions are taken by disembodied elites who resort to spin to manage and manipulate popular demands from above. People are bored, frustrated and disillusioned with politics. They have lost faith in their ability to make the political system work for them. They must be persuaded to vote by top-down publicity campaigns. More people vote for fleeting celebrities on Pop Idol or Big Brother reality TV shows than for MPs.

In the US, representative democracy is under siege in similar ways and a new one. The actions of the Bush administration since September 11 have caused many Americans to fear the national security state. Post-democracy in America presents a yet more dire spectre: in which officers charged with national security may think it necessary to end the rule of law, as well as the responsiveness of governments to public opinion. The real worry is that the public may accept these measures and acquiesce in governmental secrecy.

Could India be showing symptoms of post-democracy? Is this why governments can shield first economics and then politics from public answerability and get away with it? There8217;s something surreal about these questions.

After all, not so long ago, it was May 13. Indian democracy seemed marvellously, spectacularly alive. It had shattered hubris as only democracy can. An arrogant government, convinced of its own invincibility, was shown the door. The west looked at India with a barely disguised yearning.

Unlike the west, democracy is not slowing down in India. In fact, there are signs of its quickening in the last decade or so. Surveys of the electorate conducted by the Centre for the Study of Developing Societies during the 8217;96 and 8217;98 general election report a dramatic upsurge in all forms of political participation among the Dalits. The turnout of Adivasis recorded a sudden jump in the 1996 election. For women, the increase in participation has affected all levels except voter turnout. India may be the only major democracy in the world where turnout and political activism are higher among the very poor than among the upper middle class.

But the problem begins after the last vote is counted. Governments begin to retreat from the people and not enough questions are asked as they do so. Democracy in India is increasingly playing second fiddle to its own spectacle. We celebrate its scale but do not talk about the processes that must keep it open and accountable after elections are over. We have no blueprint of political reform that goes significantly beyond ensuring that elections are held free and fair.

It will take some doing to put politics back into politics in India. But perhaps we could begin by coining a new description for those 8216;8216;tainted8217;8217; ministers. The term is completely apolitical, it suggests passive carriers of an irresistible 8216;8216;taint8217;8217;. It relieves them of agency. It also absolves us of the responsibility of voting them into power and tolerating them there.