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Whose tomorrow is tomorrow?

In India8217;s seventh decade as a sovereign nation, it is worth pausing to ask how much of the promise of Independence has been fulfilled...

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In India8217;s seventh decade as a sovereign nation, it is worth pausing to ask how much of the promise of Independence has been fulfilled, and how much still remains to be done. India has transformed from a poor, agrarian society to a modern, industrial country, represented on the silver screen by Guru rather than Mother India. Few who are old enough to have experienced the heady, traumatic, period of Independence would have believed that Nehruvian policies, muddling along without deciding whether to head in a capitalist or a socialist direction, would result in the dynamic, aggressively competitive, fast-growing nation that is India today. Most of the attention that India now receives around the world is for its rapid growth as a center of global manufacturing and provider of services, and for the enormous potential of its domestic market. The clicheacute;d image of India as a land of poverty lies far behind. When people outside think of India, it is the software engineer, and the call centre worker, rather than the poor beggar, or Mother Teresa8217;s orphanages, that first come to mind.

But we need to think how far we have really come as a nation when approximately a quarter of our population still lives below the official poverty line. After sixty years of development efforts by the postcolonial state, why do so many of India8217;s citizens continue to be subjected to the cruelties of endemic hunger and malnutrition, and to the deprivation of basic necessities such as clothing, shelter, clean water, sanitation, and medical care?

Suppose there was a natural disaster 8212; a famine or an earthquake 8212; in which tens of thousands of people died. Many others were displaced from their homes, and separated from their families, food sources, or places of employment. There is little doubt that this would be considered a grave national crisis that required massive state and private intervention to aid in relief and rehabilitation. Now suppose that a disaster of this magnitude happens not once but recurs annually. The consensus among elites is that such disasters are inevitable and that relief efforts cannot by necessity aid all those who are affected. Some experts suggest that the best thing that the government can do to help matters is to concentrate on facilitating the rapid growth of the economy so that the victims can at least find employment and thus help pick up the pieces of their own lives. How would we react to such a 8220;solution8221;? Would we not find such a state of affairs to be appalling and perhaps even outrageous?

Yet this is precisely the situation in India today. Using a very crude calculation, I estimate that the number of 8220;excess deaths8221;8212; the number of people missing from the population due to malnutrition and morbidity 8212; as approximately 20 to 30 lakhs annually. In other words, if everyone in India lived as long as people do in Kerala, as many as 30 lakhs fewer people would die in a year. This figure overshadows the loss of human life due to all natural disasters globally. In the decade between 1991 and 2000, the annual death toll due to natural disasters, technological mishaps, and human conflict around the world totalled just over 3 lakhs. Yet, the very system of checks and balances represented by the free press, and the democratic, multi-party, competitive political system that has been so effective in sounding the alarm when famine, drought, or natural disaster have threatened, has failed to mobilize state and private resources to prevent a disaster of such proportions.

Why do we as a nation tolerate such a state of affairs, especially when we live in one of the world8217;s fastest growing economies? Why does something that should be considered exceptional, is not seen for what it truly is: a tragedy and disgrace. Why do the forms of violence that result in the deaths of millions of the poor, especially women, girls, lower-caste people, and tribals, become invisible to the middle class? How does one think about not only deliberate acts of violence such as police brutality, but also political, administrative, and judicial inaction that prevents poor people from making a living, obtaining medical aid, or securing the necessities of life in the form of food, clothing, shelter, and sanitation? Why is faster and more effective state and private intervention not forthcoming to relieve the suffering of millions of the poorest and disempowered? What are the juridical and social conditions that make the violence of such exceptional poverty normal?

Especially with the Employment Guarantee Scheme, the current government has made some bold moves to address chronic poverty. But are such measures enough? Do we need to approach poverty deaths as a national crisis, and mobilize massively in much the same way that we might after a cyclone or an earthquake? These are the difficult questions that face us as a nation seven decades after Nehru first claimed our tryst with destiny.

Akhil Gupta is a social anthropologist and professor at University of California, Los Angeles

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