Will they ever pay the moral price?

In fact, when Advani’s name came up in the Jain-Hawala case in January 1996, he resigned his Parliament membership and took a vow not to enter the House before the court exonerated him. His reaction reflected his party’s hard line on the issue. He knew he was being framed by the Government out of political vendetta and his resignation in no way suggested that it was an admission of guilt. The judiciary only vindicated his position as no charges were framed against him later.

He skipped the 1996 election, but rose to become the Home Minister as well as number two in the present Union cabinet. As someone who heads the Home Ministry now, what he does in the Ayodhya case is keenly awaited.Will he fudge his “moral standards”that a public figure facing trial should quit and return only if proved innocent? Or will he, like his party president Kushabhau Thakre, draw a distinction between corruption and “political offence”?

The BJP’s line so far has been that the Babri Masjid demolition case in which Advani, Joshi and Bharati are charged, is a political case and does not warrant their resignation. Pramod Mahajan, Vajpayee’s political adviser, while announcing the sacking of Buta Singh, drew the same distinction.

Two points need to be made here. First, if the Ayodhya case is not as “dirty” as a corruption case, what about the hundreds of cases against the ULFA, PWG and the TADA cases against minorities?

The second point is a larger point: the price a politician has to pay for his/her ideology. In the politics of principle — and the BJP thinks it is different from others on this — there is always a price tag for every commitment which is not always enforced through law.

For example, even before the Anti-Defection Actcame into existence in 1985, there have been several cases in which MPs have given up their House membership before switching parties. In the late ’60s, a committee of eminent people had expressed concern over defection for power and position. It had suggested denial of ticket or ministerial berth at least for a year from the date of defection. Jayaprakash Narayan had taken this view, unsuccessfully though, that parties violating this should be derecognised. The idea behind all this was: we welcome a legislator’s right to dissent or to join any political party of his choice. But he or she should be ever ready to pay the price for his principles.

Advani, Joshi and Bharati were prominent by their presence in Ayodhya in the afternoon of December 6, 1992. Joshi was then party president; Advani was the BJP leader in Parliament and Bharati was a member of the party’s national executive. All responsible positions and all three had publicly vowed to build a glittering Ram temple where the Babri Masjid stood. Allthree watched the demolition, their presence was certainly in solidarity with the Hindutva cause, a principle professed by the party and the sangh parivar. And their presence in Ayodhya showed how deeply committed they are to this principle.

Therefore, after the charge-sheets, their moral position is the same as that of Buta Singh, Sukh Ram or Muthiah. The question needs repeating: will they be ready to pay the price?

They cannot have it both ways. If they are asked to face trial and if they plead not guilty, are they admitting that they had nothing to do with the demolition of the Babri Masjid? And if they continue to admit that theirs was a political movement, then they should pay the price.

And what should the Prime Minister do? If because of political compulsions, he cannot ensure a uniform moral standard for his Cabinet, he needs to withdraw the Ayodhya case in the “public interest.” Like the Baroda dynamite case in 1977 in which the Cabinet cleared George Fernandes of charges of violentsubversion.

To do that, however, Vajpayee will have to convince first his allies, then Parliament and his Cabinet colleagues. The Prime Minister is a persuasive man — but persuasion and compromise are two different things.