
Of all of India8217;s prime ministers, P.V. Narasimha Rao has left the most paradoxical legacy. He assumed office in the midst of an unprecedented national crisis. Rajiv Gandhi had just been assassinated, the Indian economy was on the verge of a fiscal meltdown, Mandal had created unprecedented divisions in Indian society, and the Ram movement was acquiring the character of a mass movement. To keep India on an even keel in such circumstances would have been a tall order for even the most gifted politician. But Rao, in some respects, converted this crisis into an opportunity to redefine India8217;s future. He had the perspicacity to see that the old economic order could not continue. He took the bold decision of setting India on the path of liberalisation and integration into the world economy. With hindsight, one can argue that he did not use the crisis to restructure the priorities of the state enough. But there little doubt, as even Manmohan Singh has acknowledged, that India8217;s reforms would have been inconceivable without him. Few leaders can boast that they changed a country in some significant respects, decisively for the better. Rao is one of them.
But in many other respects, his political style proved inadequate to address the various simmering political tensions that he had inherited. The demolition of the Babri Masjid and the carnage that followed, often gave the impression of a prime minister whose characteristic response to political challenges was to sit on them. Rao8217;s cynical political style only contributed to the growing cynicism about public life. Scams, corruption scandals, and the manipulative uses of state institutions became the staple diet of Indian politics. Rao took fleeting steps to revive the Congress Party by introducing a modicum of intra-party elections, only to revert to a strategy of undermining challengers. Perhaps this was a style that befitted a politician who never had charisma or a mass following, and whose success was premised largely on the politics of manipulation. Even in office, he was characteristically distant from the electorate at large. He exuded a certain kind of inscrutability allowed him to ride out serious crises. But that inscrutability also prevented the country from embracing him as their own. He commanded a cold esteem, but seldom warm affection.
Rao was, without doubt, one of the most intelligent politicians India has had. He was capable of a striking degree of self-reflection about his own actions. When these were put in the service of his considered convictions, as was the case with economic reform, the results were striking. That Rao the astute politician could not quite rise to the stature of a statesman is something many will regret; that he did leave a substantial legacy, few should doubt.