Res Gestae

Tilting at windmills - Hindustan Times

2012-01-12T08:48:00.000+05:30

Power, Not Principles

2012-01-11T11:36:00.000+05:30

Anti-Congressism is the common plank of those motivated by short-term political gain.

Peeling the onion of political ideology in

India

is an assault on reason. You have Hindutva rabble-rousers who held sway from 1998 to 2004. Then there is the intellectually bankrupt Left that met its Waterloo on the India-US strategic partnership agreement. Sitting on opposition benches, their one-point agenda is to defeat – which is difficult – or cause problems – which is easy – for the Congress. It is a matter of wonder how closely these two so-called inimical forces, the BJP and the Left, have combined time and again to oppose the Congress for short term political gain.

There are also 1960s-style anarchic groups that include the Anna Hazare autocratic clique and Mamata Banerjee’s socially and intellectually challenged Trinamool Congress. Plunk into the mix the personality cults of Mayawati; the dynastic set-up of Mulayam Singh Yadav, Karunanidhi and Naveen Patnaik; the slippery appeal of Jayalalithaa and the holier-than-thou stance of Nitish Kumar. These are mercenary formations that will sway whichever way the wind blows, depending on the political advantage they can derive.

It is not clear what any of these groups stand for except opposition to the Congress. In 1974, the great anarch Jayaprakash Narayan talked of “total revolution” and called on the army to revolt against the Indira Gandhi government; today Anna has subverted his fight against corruption into an anti-Congress political movement. Talk about deja vu.

The foolishness of the Anna band of civil society buccaneers was exposed when the moving spirit, Arvind Kejriwal, was forced to issue a statement that they are not anti-Congress. Earlier, when cornered by thinking people on a television show, he said that India’s muchadmired parliamentary democracy is a fraud. Such increasingly shrill utterances suggest he is completely out of depth on the national stage.

Meanwhile, BJP leader L K Advani led a rath yatra against money in Swiss banks in a nonetoo-subtle bid to cash in on Anna’s storm in a teacup against corruption. Of classic RSS vintage, he believes no one remembers his other 1990 Ram temple effort which led to communal riots. So where is the “glorious” temple he promised? He served as home minister and deputy prime minister for the six years the BJP-led coalition was in power. Advani’s confusion was complete when he went to Karachi and lauded Mohammed Ali Jinnah as a secular leader.

There are many ideological fig leafs that political formations wear in their relentless grasp for power: socialism, casteism, social justice, identity, chauvinism, Hinduism. Scratch the surface and it all turns out to be an anti-Congress position. As such, political analysis in

India

is best conducted on a dyadic presumption: there is the Congress and there is everyone else.

So let’s look at the Congress record. It has been the default option for the electorate. In the past quarter century, it suffered seminal defeats in the elections of 1989 and 1996. In each case, it was voted out of power on allegations of corruption. Each time, a coalition of parties was hastily put together that stood for nothing except opposition to the Congress. In both those defeats, any objective analyst could conclude the Congress lost because its governments undertook significant reforms that hurt the status quo.

In 1989, an agglomeration of forces came together to restore the status quo of inequity and discrimination that Rajiv Gandhi had challenged. The motley crew of political parties that formed the opposition put together a makeshift government that did not last the full term; nor did they pursue the charges of corruption that brought them to power.

In the ensuing decade, the BJP’s unbridled appeal to communalism brought it to power: first, for 13 days in 1996; then in two desperate coalitions in 1998 and 1999. The saffron dispensation lasted until 2004 and was then showed the door because of its misplaced nationalism that saw India conduct nuclear tests that were replayed tit-for-tat by

Pakistan

and because of its insensitive “India Shining” hype.

Since then, the Congress has held sway. The key difference is the Congress’s approach to social harmony and economic development: the phrase “inclusive development” was introduced to the political vocabulary. In the interim, India, warts and all, grew to be a big player in the global dialogue. Most important, economic growth was accompanied by the largest-ever reduction in poverty. Today, thanks largely to the growth of the middle class, the Indian voice is heard in world forums.

Unmindful of these achievements, the anti-Congress brigade has spread several falsehoods: the prime minister is opposed by Congress president Sonia Gandhi; Manmohan Singh is weak; Sonia is the real power.

The truth is different: both Singh and Sonia are on the same page as they have always been. There has been in the history of the Congress no better combination. The former pushes reform in foreign and economic policy; the latter is the conscience to ensure there is a local sensitivity to these reforms. That is the operational definition of “inclusive growth”.

It’s ironic that the anti-Congress formations should denigrate both leaders. Singh is a highly respected economist who forsook academic achievement to serve the country first as a bureaucrat, then as finance minister and prime minister. Sonia, who adopted this country as her home, foreswore the office of prime minister in 2004 and became the conscience of the government.

The writer is a public affairs commentator.

Left and Right against the Centre

This article appeared in The Times of India on January 10, 2012.

Link:

http://epaper.timesofindia.com/Default/Scripting/ArticleWin.asp?From=Archive&Source=Page&Skin=TOINEW&BaseHref=CAP/2012/01/10&PageLabel=14&EntityId=Ar01400&ViewMode=HTML

Setting the Record Straight

2011-12-27T16:14:00.000+05:30

A mature response by the UPA government put an end to the disruption of Parliament led by the BJP. In a passionate statement, Pranab Mukherjee said, “I may be the most illiterate man in the House, but I fail to understand what purpose is served by dividing the House on a motion that seeks adjournment over black money in foreign banks. We have no conflict of interest on the issue.

We are with you on the need to curb the menace. So why have a division?”

Involving as it does international tax treaties and laws of privacy; extracting information on Indian holdings in foreign banks is difficult, the finance minister said. The Mukherjee speech rates, in my mind, among the better interventions in the 60-year history of Parliament.

Mr Mukherjee said there are enough laws on the books to deal with black money squirreled away in tax havens but they have not been effective. No banks will violate their secrecy code. Warming to his theme, he asserted that the BJP was in power for six years and had plenty of time to persuade foreign banks in tax havens to divulge their Indian secrets.

In his forceful speech, Mr Mukherjee implied that the BJP is not a serious player and simply obstructs Parliament with a view to showing the government does not enjoy majority support. In the event, the adjournment motion was soundly defeated, leaving the BJP with egg on its face.

The BJP’s assault on foreign holdings is meant to reinforce the canards they have spread for several decades that Congress leaders, especially the Gandhi family, have money stashed away abroad. It is of a piece with Anna Hazare not inviting the NCP’s Sharad Pawar to the muchhyped debate on the Lokpal Bill issue simply because they believe he is corrupt. Mr Pawar is the leader of a major political party that has a sizeable presence both in Parliament and in the Maharashtra state assembly. It has ministers in the Union Cabinet and in the state government.

Two decades ago, V P Singh played the same game. He campaigned in 1989 with a piece of paper saying he had the Swiss bank account numbers of various Congress leaders and their friends. He promised he would reveal names once he was voted into power. It turned out that with the support of the BJP and the Left, he did become Prime Minister and all he did was to unleash the Mandal mayhem. If we must talk of public life and political leadership, you have only to look at Mahatma Gandhi, Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi, three tall leaders who were assassinated by fanatics. Then there is Sonia Gandhi, who suffered the slings and arrows of the BJP propaganda machine for being Italian by birth; she stepped back when she was entitled to become the Prime Minister in 2004.

Since then, the BJP has pushed the line that Mrs Gandhi is the real power and Manmohan Singh is a mere puppet. The BJP leader, L K Advani, has been voluble in seeking to portray Dr Singh as a weak leader. I served on the Congress media committee for seven years and can say, having seen it at close hand, the relationship between Mrs Gandhi and Dr Singh was one of immense mutual respect.

The question needs to be asked: did Mr Advani, home minister in December 1999, display great strength and resolve when the government cravenly succumbed to the demands of the hijackers of Indian Airlines flight 814? Could the Congress have accused him of being weak? The answer is yes, but they did not. It was a matter of national security and the Congress lent its support.

The hijackers sought the release of three militants including Ahmed Omar Saeed Sheikh, a British-born terrorist with ties to al Qaeda, who was implicated in the murder of Daniel Pearl, a reporter for the Wall Street Journal.

The BJP had its chance from 1998 to 2004. It started out with nuclear explosions in May 1998 that altered the balance of power in the subcontinent negating the conventional edge that India enjoyed till then after Pakistan responded by staging its own nuclear tests. The curtains came down on BJP’s rule in 2004 when, turned off by an insensitive India Shining poll campaign, voters turned away.

Also, we must never forget the 13-day BJP government in 1996. That reckless act served to underline their lack of seriousness and their belief that being in government is about power and pelf, rather than service and sacrifice.

Fifteen years later, its obstructionism in Parliament confirms that the BJP is confused and desperate. Now, can we please get back to the business of governance?

• The BJP’s actions are about self-interest, not seriousness on issues of national interest

• In 1996, the party displayed it puts power and pelf above service and sacrifice

• Now, its obstructionism in Parliament confirms the BJP is confused and desperate

This article appeared in The Economic Times on December 23, 2011.

Capital Letter

2011-12-20T14:42:00.003+05:30

December 10, 2011

American Life: Washington Journal

Liberalism…

A Saturday afternoon at the Ronald Reagan National Airport in Washington DC: I am waiting for my bag. It shows up and so do my hosts Gautam and Rita and with them the promise of a fabulous weekend plus.

Gautam is the most insightful person I know. You really have to read his book, The Intolerant Indian, to know how perspicacious this man is. Yet, I have always thought of him a rock star, never mind he’s been the editor of The Times of India and founding editor of DNA. His book, however, leads me to believe there is so much more to Gautam than his editor persona or his Elvis singsong.

So there he was with his wife Rita, wheeling my bag to the parking lot. We drove to his house in Chevy Chase, savoring the prospect of the next few days. As soon as we got in his car, Gautam was all about business. And his business was about pleasure. “We’re going here, there and everywhere,” he says, in his Beatles-besotted way as he pulls his car out of the parking lot.

He makes me sit shotgun while Rita sits in the back; she is the “chopdi (book) aunty,” as a friend christened her once in Goa, for her encyclopedic knowledge about everything. That afternoon, she was leading the charge against “these reactionary Republicans.” In his wry way, Gautam reminds her that I am the only one in the car who had shaken hands and had a picture taken with George W Bush, the hate figure for American liberals.

We make our way through this gorgeous city and I can’t help but marvel at the stuff that flies by the car window; stuff we see all the time on television: this monument, that government building, whatever. It is truly a beautiful city and whether you like it or not, it is the capital of the world.

Driving through the city, we cross into Maryland’s Chevy Chase, where Gautam and Rita reside. The place has an air of understated class; which also describes my hosts.

Through the stay, I spent time with their friends and loved every minute of it. What was remarkable was these friends were as comfortable with me as I was with them; as though I’d known them forever. More likely, it was the old “any friend of Gautam and Rita’s” syndrome. Conversations were enlightened and at times, enlivened by my minor intrusions into their liberal groupthink.

They seemed to be all McGovern liberals. I gave up that ghost a long time ago when it became clear unadulterated American liberalism is about class and privilege, on the one hand; on the other hand, it has a streak of populism: a patrician dislike of business and commerce. Bill Clinton was not about that and W was a foaming-in-the-mouth response to classic American liberalism.

In the several salon-type interactions Gautam organized, it became clear the hatred for W and the Republicans among liberals is entrenched and ultimately as divisive as the agenda of their hate object, George W Bush. Equally puzzling is their lukewarm support for Obama, who has brought to the national scene the art of compromise and negotiation that is part and parcel of state and city politics in this admirable country.

The flight of liberals from Obama’s camp is, dare I say it, an expression of disappointment. They seem to be saying: we elected you, our first black president; you were proof of our liberal credentials and you compromise with all manner of people and policy positions that are anathema to us?

Much like in

India

, the ruling dispensation here seems to have lost its way between the assaults from the religious right and indignant liberals. The fate of Obama and Dr Manmohan Singh in

India

will determine the future of democracy and liberalism in the world. The EU crisis, as always with the Europeans, is about money.

On the way back to Delhi, at Dulles, I contemplated the stentorian arbitrariness of the Homeland Security system that stalks all American airports. Struggling through the gauntlet of not-so-bright people, who may have been recruited from the American jail regime or street gangs, I thought to myself: America national security state and

India

anti-corruption zeal are probably the two greatest threats to liberal democracy.

At American airports and in Indian media, it appears as though the regimentation and anarchy are on the rise. At Dulles, O’Hare, Kennedy and various points of entry, agents of the emergent national security regime evoke fear and awe, largely because they have the power to whisk you away and throw you in jail and keep you there for months without framing charges. In

India

, prodded by anarchists and their anti- corruption protests, the judicial system can do much the same.

###

This article appeared in The Times of India on December 17, 2011.

http://blogs.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/capital-letter/entry/american_life_washington_journal

Do leaders need a better image?

2011-12-09T14:28:00.002+05:30

Recently, Parliament has lost precious time, due to differences on various issues. NDTV's Pankaj Pachauri talks to experts including Mr Rajiv Desai (Chief Executive, Comma) on the issue of political reforms in India.

See Video: http://www.ndtv.com/video/player/money-mantra/do-leaders-need-a-better-image/217828

Evergreen Optimism

2011-12-05T14:51:00.002+05:30

As I stood there shaking hands with him when he came to receive the Dada Saheb Phalke award, the years seemed to melt away. It was as though I was in my pre-teens, having just watched Nau Do Gyarah , Munimji , Paying Guest or whichever film I first saw starring Dev Anand.

I can remember going straight into the bathroom, wetting my hair and trying to work up the stylish pompadour. Dev Anand was my absolute favourite screen personality and I religiously caught every single film he ever made.

My friends say I am an inveterate optimist, that's why I came back to India after nearly two decades in the US. The optimism has its roots in my early exposure to Dev Anand's films.

Since the late 1950s and through the early 1960s, he was my favourite hero, not necessarily because he was a good actor but because he stood for hope.

While Dilip Kumar represented the tragedy of the Indian condition, Raj Kapoor the misbegotten ideology that messed up India, Dev Anand stood for what India could be, smiling and stylish with a song on the lips.

Dev Anand represents the most modern of all creative idioms: Find talented people and let them grow. Through his organisation, Navketan, we were introduced to Guru Dutt, S D Burman and dozens of others, who entertained generations with movies and music that today are part of our memories.

About the time Dev Anand began to be recognised as an entertainer, the operative mood in Indian films was down-in-the-mouth, a victim of the colonial experience. The theme song was Duniya mein hum ayein hain to jeena hi padega, jeevan hai agar zahar to peena hi padega .

Along came Dev Anand with his worldview expressed best in the song from the film Hum Dono : Barbadiyon ka shok manana fuzul tha, har fikr ko dhuein mein udata chala gaya .

His films filled me with hope, the ultimate global value that was in short supply in India at that time.

Congratulations on the Dadasaheb Phalke Award, and thank you Dev Saheb, you instilled me with optimism about India before I reached my teens.

In the words of your immortal song: Jeevan ke safar mein raahi... de jaate hain yaadein . Indeed, you have given me, a fellow traveller in the world, a rich lode of memories, never mind your lyricist's other lines, which I have left out in the ellipsis.

This article appeared in The Times of India on February 16, 2004.

I am posting it as a tribute to my personal hero, Dev Anand, who died on December 4, 2011.

India at the limits

2011-11-15T14:24:00.004+05:30

Command-and-control system failure

If you ever needed evidence that socialist ideology, political populism and the utter lack of governance holds India to ransom, all you have to do is to study the power crisis gripping India. For the past several weeks, the country has reeled from outages that last so long that they have become the norm; the few hours that power is available are the unusual occurrence. The gap between supply and demand is thought to be in excess of 15 percent on the average: ranging for zero in the case of Lutyens Delhi, home of the ruling class, to more than 50 percent in rural areas.

India’s power crisis bears examination because it highlights the sheer inability of the public sector edifice to meet the demands of a rapidly growing economy.

Let’s start at the source. The predominant fuel used in power generation is coal. The mining of the material is in the hands of a government monopoly, Coal India Limited, widely regarded as inept and corrupt. Faced with demands for increased production, the company actually told the coal ministry it is lowering its production target for 2011-12 by four million tons. Most analysts believe when March 2012 comes rolling around, the company will report a much bigger shortfall. In the first half of the year, ended September, Coal India fell short by 20 million tons.

Among other fuels, the government has been unable to secure assured supplies of natural gas or alternative fuels to mitigate the coal deficit.

Power generation is also largely a government monopoly run by similarly inept and corrupt public sector companies. Despite grandiose plans to increase power generation, the government achieved only 50 percent of its targets in the 20 years ending 2012. A Planning Commission official was quoted as saying that if the power ministry had succeeded in meeting its targets, the coal shortages would have been worse.

One of the key risks in the generation of power is environmental pollution. The agency in charge of ensuring that the risk is mitigated is the ministry of environment and forests, which in recent years has become a hotbed of populism. The ministry, in 2009, announced a ban on mining in forests and tribal areas. It also opposed hydroelectric projects in various parts of the country. Its views on nuclear power are also skeptical, led by fears of accidents.

Beyond that, because power supply is a concurrent subject, state governments are in charge of the distribution of power to citizens. Mostly, provincial governments supply electricity through state electricity boards (SEBs). Again, corrupt and inept, the utilities are bankrupt entities. A 2001 Planning Commission report on the working of these utilities says, “It may be noted that the information provided in the report is not always based on audited reports of the SEBs as the accounts of many SEBs are audited with a considerable time lag.”

In certain cities like Bombay and Ahmedabad, where the generation, transmission and distribution of power in the hands of private companies, the costs of power are higher but the supply is reliable. I have lived in both cities and thereafter in the US, so my first experience of a power cut was in Delhi. Things improved dramatically in the capital after 1998 when the Sheila Dikshit government privatized power distribution. Just the drastic reduction in the huge (nearly 50 percent) “transmission and distribution” losses (theft) made more power available.

India’s power conundrum provides a snapshot of the challenges policymakers faces as they try to cope with the demands of a new India. The Socialist command-and-control system simply does not work. As its hold diminished, businessmen and entrepreneurs showed that without the dead hand of government bearing down on the economy, they could work wonders.

But what the noted German social psychologist Erich Fromm called the “freedom from” moment has passed; the “freedom to” moment of the modern economy calls for bold political leadership such as greater, crony-free privatization; it demands better-trained, more responsive and transparent government agencies.

Most of all, the burden has to be shared by citizens themselves. This is not an area of focus in public debate. It’s not just politicians and bureaucrats that are responsible for taking India forward; citizens cannot absolve themselves from the responsibility of the “freedom to” opportunity.

Here’s what I mean: on a recent flight, as the plane landed and the seat belt signs went off, I was buffeted by a rush from behind as some passengers dashed for the doorway, hoping to disembark first. There was absolutely no reason to do this because in the end we were all going in the same bus and we would arrive at the terminal at the same time.

My conclusion was that these men and women who sought to push their way up front were so focused on their personal agendas that they forgot their civic sense. If passengers disembark row by row, things get done in a much smoother and more pleasant way.

It’s the same for the traffic on the roads, though the consequences there are far more dangerous. This extends to paying taxes, avoiding bribes, evade building codes, littering, urinating in public and all the “me-first, devil-take-the-hindmost” attitudes that make it so hard to be a citizen in India and make the public space into such a disagreeable environment.

An edited version of this article appeared in Education World, November 2011.

Copyright Rajiv Desai 2011

Capital Letter

2011-11-10T12:21:00.004+05:30

European Odyssey: Swiss Journal

http://blogs.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/capital-letter/entry/european-odyssey-swiss-journal-theme-for-a-gandhian-dream

Theme for a (Gandhian) dream...

Milan’s Malpensa airport is a bit like Ahmedabad airport before it was modernized. We arrived there on a hot and sultry day and waited forever to retrieve our bags. I was a bit grumpy; who would expect this in Milan, the world’s fashion hot spot? What next, I asked my wife? Rickshaw guys milling about the exit? I want my money back!

Within minutes of emerging into the arrival area, my frown disappeared. We were greeted with warm smiles by Beat (pronounced ‘bey-ut’ though our daughters often say his name to rhyme with neat) and Raul, the Swiss component of our family. As we loaded our bags into Beat’s Audi, I looked forward to the drive that skirted the city to take us into the hills of Switzerland, headed for Tessin, aka Ticino.

The picturesque Ticino canton is spread across mountainous country and is the southernmost part of Switzerland. Called Italian Switzerland, the region, I am surprised to learn, is, after Zurich and Geneva, the third largest financial center in the country.

It took us all of 90 minutes, including a stop in a farm with a tumble down barn where we bought fresh fruit and vegetables, to get to Al Ruscello, the house by the brook, in the heavenly little village of Gordola in the Locarno district. With a view of the northern tip of Lago (Lake) Maggiore, the house is Beat and our niece Lisa’s family home. On the northern side, it is surrounded by vineyard slopes that grow the local Merlot grapes. Ticino is the warmest part of Switzerland.

Lisa and Beat come here to get away from the hustle and bustle of Zurich, where they live.

Really? They need to get away from a picture-postcard city that is consistently voted the most livable city in the world? I guess it takes all kinds. Maybe the civilized 400,000 residents; maybe the smooth flowing traffic; perhaps the quiet neighborhoods and the picturesque lakefront get to them and they want to go rough it out in Ticino. But it’s just more of the same: quiet, easy, beautiful...only on a much smaller scale; Gordola’s population is just 5,000.

Even for just 5,000 people, there is a wealth of local infrastructure. Some of it is evident from the balcony of Al Ruscello, which offers a view of local trains, commuter railroads, private boats and ferries, civilian planes and helicopters for medical emergencies. And it’s not just in Ticino; it’s all over the country: a display of civic extravagance that towers above the fabled wealth of Swiss banks and the affluence of its citizens.

Meanwhile, the superstructure is unobtrusive: the grocery store, the butcher shop, the bakery, the fruit and vegetable store appear modest and innocuous but are lavish with an abandonza of local products. It was this “local” aspect that also struck me when we visited Ticino five years ago.

In a column for a national newspaper, I wrote: “...isn’t this what Mohandas Gandhi said when he talked about...villages being self sufficient? ‘Every village will be a republic… (It) has to be self sustained and capable of managing its affairs even to the extent of defending itself against the whole world,’ he wrote in the Harijan, some 65 years ago, on July 28, 1946. So while the Swiss people exult in their village republics, they also have a global presence with world beating companies in pharmaceuticals, chemicals, machine tools, textile machinery and also in lifestyle brands like Swatch, Omega, Mont Blanc and even ultimately the Swiss Army.

“Sadly, in India, villages are dens of filth and inequity; major stumbling blocks to progress. As far as global brands, India now finally boasts some companies like Infosys, Wipro and Tata. In political terms, self sufficiency in India means cronyism and a seller’s market. But the Swiss version, which I experienced in Tessin, was modern and enlightened. I thought to myself: isn’t this exactly what Gandhi advocated?

“In reviewing Amartya Sen’s book, The Argumentative Indian, the historian Ramchandra Guha wrote: ‘As a multilingual and yet democratic country, India’s only rival is Switzerland.’ Guha’s review in the Economic and Political Weekly, October 8, 2005, a scathing dismissal of Sen’s book, which has become the bible of the soft left in India, hit the nail on the head. Switzerland appears to have been the model on the basis of which Gandhi proffered his theory about village republics.”

In the five years that elapsed since our last trip to this wondrous region of the world, it appeared that things hadn’t changed much. They hadn’t deteriorated as they would in India, for sure. In fact, they might have gotten better. In the midst of the economic disaster in Europe, Switzerland held firm, bouncing back firmly from a slight downturn. In the quarter ended June 2011, the economy grew 2.4 percent and exports grew nearly six percent despite the fact that the Swiss franc appreciated sharply against the dollar and the euro.

It appeared as though this pristine little country has weathered the economic storms that are buffeting Europe. Switzerland has much to cheer about.

The dining room at Al Ruscella boasted a fireplace that served as a grill. We barbecued locally sourced beef, venison and sausage, tossed a hearty salad with local produce, selected the local white Merlot as an accompaniment to the meal, relished home-made dessert and topped the meal off with local grappa. We silently raised our glasses to the resourcefulness of the Swiss people and in thanksgiving that our extended family includes a Swiss branch.

This appeared on Capital Letter, The Times of India Blogs on November 7, 2011.

Capital Letter

2011-10-20T11:50:00.000+05:30

European Odyssey: Paris Journal

http://blogs.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/capital-letter/entry/european-odyssey-paris-journal

C’est si bon…

It grows and envelopes you, this city. You feel like you belong here. You understand, mostly, the language. Give me a month here and I will speak the language fluently. Whenever I come here, I feel the language on the tip of my tongue but somehow can never get myself to speaking it. One way is to talk in English the way my friend Cedric Labourdette taught me. I have learned to do the inflections and the expressions so my English is French enough that people can understand.

We must to continue. We came in the old Orly airport and take some taxi to Rue de Fondary, where lives our friend, the family Labourdette, in the 15th, close to metro station, Emile Zola. Though our ticket-plane said it would arrive at five pm, the flight was late and it took forever to get our baggage. We reach in time for dinner.

“Not so late, like in India,” says Cedric as I suggest an aperitif; the flight was a nightmare and the traffic on the Peripherique was bad. “I don’t really care,” I told Cedric, “You must to give me some wine.”

Cedric is the only French person I know who does not drink wine. He points me to the bar and says, “I must to watch Dominique Strauss Kahn interview on TV.” DSK admits he had consensual sex with his accuser. “Much difference from Indian TV, n’est ce pas?” Cedric was referring to Claire Chazal, the businesslike anchor, who did the interview. He has spent a lot of time in India since 2001; he knows that Indian television journalism is infantile.

We sit in his garden and savor his Dad’s Beaujolais from the “Cru” village of Morgon, made from the famed Gamay grapes of the region.

That is how starts our Paris trip. We are old Paris hands. The joy of walking and hassle-free public transport is a bigger highlight for me than the Eiffel Tower or the Louvre or Montmartre. We walked everywhere, nipping into neighborhoods, darting into churches, sitting by the Seine, listening to church bells heralding the eventide Angelus.

Braving tourist hordes, we wended our way into Notre Dame Cathedral to hear the mass and the soaring “Kyrie.” We walked around Le Marais, the old aristocratic quarter on the Right Bank, marvelling at the renewal that kept the grace of the old and infused it with the excitement of the new.

Paris seems to me to be beyond liveability; it is about an innate sense of lifestyle. From mere shop attendants to artists and writers and intellectuals and politicians and executives and businessmen, they casually exude a “je ne sais quoi” sensibility that is difficult to explain. Old and young, men and women and children, good-looking or not, they make a statement with their personality.

The scarf is a classic example. From elaborate wraps to a casual throw-it-around- your-neck insouciance, Parisians walk the street as though they are walking the ramp at a fashion show. Except that they appear not to be dressed by a fashion designer; it’s just the fiendishly stylish way they wear their clothes. The overall impression is not of narcissism but of immense self-esteem drawn from good food, good wine, good clothes and a cradle-to-grave social security blanket.

But we were not in Paris as mere tourists. Cedric and his folks are our extended family. Whenever we go in Paris, his brothers must to come and say hello and various nephews and nieces and family friends. It is a warm and wonderful feeling that I treasure. That is why Paris is so special.

We visited Cedric’s grandmother, a regal woman in her nineties, perfectly coiffed and attired, with great social skills. Sitting in the drawing room of her majestic apartment that offers vistas of the Eiffel Tower, Michelin Faure talks to us about Algeria, where she was born. There was in her conversation, even nearly 50 years after Algeria won its independence from France, a sense of betrayal that Charles de Gaulle called the election in which the Algerians voted for independence. She was part of a million-strong community, the “pied noir,” evacuated to France following the election.

The same day, we went to dinner at the apartment of Dominique Charnay. A well-known Tahiti-born French journalist, Dominique has just authored a widely acclaimed book called “Cher Monsieur Queneau.” The book reprises letters from aspiring authors to the renowned French novelist and poet Raymond Queneau. To hear Dominique talk about it, the book sounds hilarious. In addition, he showed us letters from the American essayist and playwright, Arthur Miller, to his (Dominique’s) mother, who had sculpted a bust of the playwright.

Another evening, we met Jean-Claude Barbier for dinner at an old Paris restaurant. I had met him on my last trip and enjoyed an evening talking about politics, economics, sociology and international affairs. An academic, who believes the European Union is doomed, Jean-Claude blames the crisis on weak leaders and ruthless financiers. He has a special interest in China and visits often; here too he paints a gloomy picture, saying the rise of China signals the death of aesthetics. Apparently, he is miffed at the hordes of Chinese tourists, who descend on Paris and show no affinity for the great cultural offerings of the City of Light.

Like all good things, our carefree and interesting time in Paris ended all too soon. I always feel a tinge of regret leaving this exquisitely stylish and intoxicating city. As we head to the airport, I think to myself: we will always come back to visit with our extended family. And that eases the withdrawal symptoms.

So we bid “a bientot” rather “au revoir” and melted into the mass of migratory people that flits incessantly between airports in a frenzied pace from day to day.

This appeared on Capital Letter, The Times of India Blogs on October 18, 2011.

Capital Letter

2011-10-18T13:41:00.002+05:30

European Odyssey: Barcelona Journal

http://blogs.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/capital-letter/entry/european-odyssey-barcelona-journal

How many streets must a tourist walk…

Wrong shoes. Bad mistake. Barcelona knocked the stuffing out of my back. We walked and walked and walked and walked. Mostly in celebration of the freedom to walk the streets, which you can’t do in Delhi. BCN is a wonderful city, as we all know. A bit like Paris. Indeed the French were early settlers. Nice buildings, great cafes, superb metro, the buzzing waterfront, museums, surprisingly nice beer, awesome food and drink Sangria till the sunrise.

Thought of the word “anomie” in trying to describe a tourist’s jaunt through this comely city. All the other times I’ve been here, it’s been on a mission: a junket, a conference, and several meetings. This was the first time I came here at a loose end. A quick search of the web told me my first instinct about the word was right. Wikipedia says that “in common parlance,” the word anomie is “thought to mean something like ‘at loose ends.’”

And you don’t get much more common than a tourist, tramping the streets of this city of creative geniuses including Picasso, Miro, Dali and Gaudi. So anomie is the word. Gilded somewhat from the Wikipedia definition, I extended it to mean “footloose and fancy free.”

From our apartment in the upscale Eixample district, we walked everywhere or took the Metro. We went to the Cuitat Vella (Old City) and meandered through the byzantine streets of Barri Gothic (the Roman Quarter), spilling onto the tourist-infested Las Ramblas to the Paral-lel metro station and up the funicular to the Miro museum atop Montjuic hill. We wandered the narrow street of La Ribera to the Musee Picasso. Just north of Eixample past the Sagrada Familia, Gaudi’s famous church into trendy Gracia and beyond that into Placa de l’Angel, considered home to the finest of the numerous urban renewal projects the city is famous for.

But how much can you walk? With my bad shoes and my spasmodic back, I was often reduced to debilitation. Had to sit and down a beer, eat some tapas. So how much tapas can you eat? How much Sangria can you drink? Judging from my own record, a lot. It became sort of addictive; every hour my back would act up and I had to sit. A beer or glass of wine, grilled meat and all was well again. Back to the trudge. This worked the first day; after that my traveling companions, my wife and my New York daughter, got wise to it. And so I had to walk hours before relief.

At times, my daughter, clever young woman, would back my complaint of deathly pain and sit down and have a beer with me. It was all very democratic. Sometimes two-to-one against me; sometimes in my favor. Sat in more cafes, I did, than even in Paris. Ate more, drank more, walked more. The only time we didn’t sit in a café and chose instead to look at a map to find a recommended restaurant, we stood under a tree at the entrance to a park right beside the Miro museum on the Montjuic hill, a tourist trap in the southeast part of the city. We were all three of us, sprayed with what appeared to be bird poop.

As we reeled from the violation, a woman ran out from the park and said, “Come, water to clean.” Gratefully, we followed her. But there was no water. A man appeared with tissues to help us clean the crap; another man appeared from the bushes with a bottle of water. “Such nice people,” my wife said. And asked where they were from. “Portugal,” the woman replied.

But the poop spill was substantive, so we hopped a cab to go back to the apartment to get cleaned up. “Obrigado,” said my Goan wife in farewell to the threesome. But clearly they had no idea what it meant.

In the apartment, I discovered I had been pick-pocketed. Fast forward to when we recounted this to our friends. “Chechens,” they said. Despite my sheer despair at losing all my credit and debit cards, money, driver’s license and what have you, I could not help marveling at the slickness with which the threesome had diddled us.

As if that was not enough, thanks to my research on my phone, we chose a Basque restaurant for dinner. The street number suggested it was close to our apartment, so we walked. For miles, back to the center of town. It turned out to be an expensive retro restaurant. It was good as we ate the food and drank the Rose Merlot. But as my wife said in a conversation much later, after we were back in Delhi, “I don’t remember the food I ate.”

Between the loss of my wallet and the fine dining experience, I could not help but feel the jabs of tetanus-shot disapproval from my wife and my daughter. Later, on the flight to Paris, as our plane bucked like a startled filly in a thunderstorm, I thought to tell my wife she should consider forgiveness. But she was fast asleep as I, the original white-knuckle flier, contemplated a fiery death, convinced the plane would crash, crippled by lightning and high winds.

Hasta la vista, Barcelona!

This appeared on Capital Letter, The Times of India Blogs on October 11, 2011.

India Journal

2011-09-16T11:37:00.005+05:30

Bangladesh and Our Foreign Policy Elitism

http://blogs.wsj.com/indiarealtime/2011/09/15/india-journal-bangladesh-and-our-foreign-policy-elitism/

When Prime Minister Manmohan Singh announced he would visit Bangladesh, there were great expectations. It appeared as though ties between the two nations were finally on the right track, backed by diplomatic and political goodwill. Many believed that during his visit, the Prime Minister would make a “game changing” policy shift in the matter of the international border, trade and especially shared river waters.

Such issues have crimped relations between the neighbors. Mr. Singh’s visit was to herald a new dawn. His timing was impeccable. Bangladesh’s Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina is much more India-friendly than the previous regime. Her father, Mujibur Rahman, the leader who challenged and triumphed over Pakistan, could not have done so without massive Indian support. It seemed as though as the ducks were lined up and Indo-Bangladesh ties were headed north.

However, one of the Congress party’s major allies, the Trinamul Congress led by Mamata Bannerjee, chief minister of West Bengal, pulled out from Mr. Singh’s delegation at the last minute. Her pique apparently was over the amount of water the government proposed to divert from the Teesta River, which also runs through her state, to Bangladesh.

The mercurial Ms. Bannerjee was concerned that her Communist political rivals could make the deal into a political controversy and cause her to lose the support of the farmers in the northern parts of the state.

Ms. Bannerjee’s decision caused heartburn in the Ministry of External Affairs. In foreign policy circles, many termed the chief minister’s behavior unwarranted, obstructionist and downright petty.

The tendency of the foreign affairs establishment to disparage local political sensibilities stems from a belief that foreign policy is a highbrow pursuit best handled by the Oxbridge lot. The corollary is that they would allow no moffusil (local) interests to get in the way of Delhi’s international relations agenda.

Similar thinking pushed Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi into a misadventure in Sri Lanka. Between 1987 and 1990, Delhi sent an Orwellian-named “Indian Peace Keeping Force” to fight the Tamil Tigers, who had fought a long and violent war in pursuit of Eelam, an independent state in northern Sri Lanka.

Faced with an unexpectedly fierce guerrilla challenge from the militants, the IPKF eventually withdrew. At that time too, local politicians in Tamil Nadu had advised against supporting the Sri Lanka government.

The elitist mindset that led to India’s misadventure in Sri Lanka and the subsequent assassination of Rajiv Gandhi survives two decades later. It is evident from the reaction to Ms. Bannerjee’s intervention in the river waters issue.

Neither Ms. Bannerjee’s recalcitrance nor the protest of the Dravidian parties in Tamil Nadu against the IPKF had merit. Dravidian parties support for the Tigers never did get much political traction; Ms. Bannerjee, as always, has very narrow political concerns.

The issue, however, is not about the limited perspective of state politicians. It is about the inability or unwillingness of the Indian foreign policy establishment to take into account domestic sensitivities before they decide what they are going to do.

In 1955, the story goes, Jawaharlal Nehru conceded to China the United Nations Security Council seat offered to India. With his fabled vision and ideals, Nehru realized quickly that India, with high levels of poverty and illiteracy as pressing domestic concerns, was in no shape to take on global responsibility.

Even after 56 years, the Internet chatteratti rant and rave about Nehru’s decision, arguing that his naïveté cost India a place in the UNSC.

Nehru was right. The British government of India was a powerful force, whose writ ran from Afghanistan to Burma. The newly independent government that inherited the colonial mantle faced insurgencies in Kashmir and the northeast as well as the perils of poverty, disease and illiteracy. In addition, while the wealthy colonial government of India played a huge role in the British Empire, the newly independent entity was poor and powerless in the international arena.

Many in India and those who live abroad wrongly believe Nehru lost India a Security Council seat because of his arrogant idealism. The more important issue is that any concern for India’s standing in the world, and its relationships with other countries, has to take into consideration domestic realities.

This is especially true today. With the Indian economy on a roll and the ever-increasing ambit of Indian trade and commerce, the demands on diplomacy have become ever more complex. Diplomats are called upon to explain not just the evident disparities in Indian society and widely reported allegations of corruption but to use their skills to run interference for the growing number of Indian companies doing business around the world.

As they do so, Ms. Bannerjee’s much reviled opposition to the river water deal with Bangladesh is worth keeping in mind. It is an affirmation of what Henry Kissinger said in his seminal book, “Domestic Structure and Foreign Policy”: domestic politics cannot be “taken as given.” The Bannerjee dissent is a sure sign that Indian foreign policy has to descend from its elitist heights and deal with local politics.

This appeared on India Real Time, The Wall Street Journal on September 15, 2011

The Politics of Destabilization

2011-08-28T12:32:00.006+05:30

Failed Protests Targeted Reformist Government

The “India against Corruption” campaign focused somewhat obsessively on corruption in high places. Accordingly, politicians and bureaucrats were labelled corrupt. As such, they have to be brought under the purview of an ombudsman; a body whose powers have to be decided by civil society activists, justices of the various high courts, eminent citizens and whoever else Hazare and his cohorts feel should be included.

The campaign attracted members who work in the modern Indian economy and are among the most obvious beneficiaries of economic reform. Bright and educated, they nevertheless overlooked Hazare’s unconstitutional political demand to override Parliament’s law-making powers, preferring to focus on the larger, more romantic objective of fighting corruption. These are men and women, incensed by reports of corruption and hungry to hitch their wagon to a messiah; much like the programming code they write or use at work to provide quick and effective solutions to problems; never mind that they are complex such as rural poverty, urban squalor, entrenched corruption, inflation, economic growth and poor infrastructure. The messiah will deliver!

Now the drama has ended, the question we must put to Hazare and his supporters is this: isn’t the bribe giver as culpable as the taker? Shouldn’t bribe givers also be brought under the ombudsman? In that case, private sector business and individual citizens will need to be included. Thus the agency would be given powers to haul up citizens, executives, boards of directors, owners. Such a sweeping empowerment holds in its own constitution the possibility of abuse.

Creating a super agency that can be abused or run amok is hardly an effective way to investigate and penalize corruption. If you look at recent allegations of corruption in the allocation of mobile spectrum, in infrastructure development, in mining…you will find these are sectors which are still under government control. To deal with this, the government introduced several bills in Parliament. Of the ones that got passed into law, there is the hugely successful example of financial sector regulation. The rest have been stalled because of the paralysis caused by the Opposition’s questionable tactics of stalling proceedings in Parliament.

As the Prime Minister said, these “second stage” reforms need political consensus. These have to do with land acquisition, environmental protection, financial regulation, education, judicial changes and a series of other difficult tasks in sectors like mining where vested interests hold sway and power, where the entire state-run system is bankrupt.

Hazare's handlers demanded their version of the “Lokpal” bill be adopted by a certain date. This was clearly not in the government’s power to promise because the bill must go before a parliamentary committee. The demand militated against compromise, leave alone consensus. It was divisive and corrosive and seemed to target a duly- elected government. In doing that, the Hazare protest revealed its ultimate goal: to destabilize the UPA government. The agenda seemed to be: create an anarchic situation that the government is unable to control it without resort to force and is thus forced to agree to mid-term elections.

What started out as a political demand to carve for themselves a role in drafting an anti-corruption bill appeared to have grown in scope. Clearly buoyed by incessant and uncritical media coverage that attracted crowds, Hazare's supporters raised the ante: derail the government.

Meanwhile, after initial missteps, the government managed to put a strategy in place to deal with the protest. Aware there was a sizable, perhaps dominant, segment of the population that wanted nothing to do with the Hazare campaign, the government moved to rally support. More and more voices spoke out, on television, in print and online, against the strong-arm nature of the agitation and its “with us or against us” stance. Anyone who challenged, as a respected television anchor did, the demands raised by the agitators, was branded as “pro corruption.”

Faced with adulatory fans in designer T-shirts and Gandhi caps, Hazare’s rhetoric became more self-congratulatory, more truculent and even abusive. He has called the Prime Minister names; the people at his rally used foul language to abuse UPA chairperson Sonia Gandhi, fuelling renewed suspicion that the RSS may be behind the protest. The crowds also attracted gaggles of hoodlums and petty criminals, resulting in instances of sexual harassment and theft.

Also people started looking into the antecedents of this new messiah. On Facebook, a post quoted from an article on Hazare that appeared in a Reader’s Digest 1986 edition. Among a host of petty dictatorial pronouncements, he banned the sale and use of tobacco and liquor. Those brewers and sellers who did not voluntarily accept the ban found their places of business ransacked. When some three people were caught drinking, Hazare lashed them to pillars in the local temple and flogged them personally with his army belt.

Many were embarrassed by his low-level comments about the Prime Minister, whom he called a ‘liar.” It is this lack of restraint that he and his aides demonstrated that people began to find disturbing. Hitler and Mussolini used the same tactics to discredit the political process in Germany and Italy. His methods came to be seen as Goebbelsian: pitch it as a fight against corruption when it really is an assault on the Constitution; pitch it as apolitical when it is truly a campaign to dislodge the government.

Hazare's managers became so besotted with media driven popularity that they could not see they were losing ground. The Parliament bailed them out by passing a resolution that allowed them to claim victory. In the end, India's constitutional democracy proved mature and resilient. Completely outmaneuvered, Hazare and his horde will return to the dark spaces from whence they emerged.

Not being much of a chip-on-the-shoulder patriot, on this occasion I want to shout from the rooftops: Jai Hind!

###

And Accountability For All

2011-07-29T13:35:00.004+05:30

This article appeared in The Times of India, April 21, 2010.

In many ways, the government has embarked on a path-breaking route, in terms of both domestic and foreign policy. For instance, some time ago, the issue of fertiliser subsidies came up. In one fell swoop, the government changed the game by targeting subsidies on the basis of nutrients. Thanks to the policy change, farmers will look to nutrients other than urea. This will increase yields dramatically. Urea-based fertilisers were once good and government policies championed their use. Over the years, it became clear that they had passed the point of diminishing returns. Everywhere in the world, governments have promoted suplhur-based and other nutrients in the mix to increase yields and protect the soil.

With all the noise about food inflation, the government has pointed to the exploitative role of middlemen in the journey farm products make from the fields to the market. In recent times, the finance minister has made several references to the need for organised retail in the grocery business, most recently at the CII national meeting in Delhi.

Coming to taxes, the finance minister cut individual taxes while increasing some indirect levies. The idea is sterling: put more money in the hands of middle-class families and let them decide what they can or cannot afford. If i am considering buying a car and it costs a few thousand rupees more, it is my call. By putting economic decisions in the citizens' hands, the government has been making a major paradigm shift.

The emphasis on infrastructure is also welcome. Roads, ports, airports and railroads are being built. The trouble is that modern infrastructure is at the disposal of government agencies and citizens with zero ethics or civic consciousness. Thus, it gets caught up in bottlenecks caused by lackadaisical enforcement and citizens who habitually violate the law.

For instance, many cities now have modern airports. They are like white elephants because, the minute you step outside, there is total chaos. It's the same thing for highways. We recently travelled to Chandigarh from Delhi. The road is a work-in-progress and there are significant flyovers and wide pavements. But there is total traffic chaos.

Even as you rev to the top speed of 90 km per hour, you find yourself having to deal with vehicles going the wrong way, underpowered trucks, three-wheeled vehicles, bullock carts, cycle rickshaws, handcarts, herds of cows and sheep and, scariest of all, daredevil pedestrians trying to cross the highway. They make the journey a nightmare. There is simply no policing, no signage or other facilities that go with modern highways. It's almost as though modern amenities are made available to citizens with a pre-modern mindset by officials with no clue about modernity.

The tragedy is that the police have no authority to enforce the law. Even worse, they don't even know the law. Just recently, I stopped a police car on the spanking new expressway that connects Delhi and Gurgaon to the airports. I told the police officer that the unchecked use of the expressway by two- and three-wheeled vehicles was a major traffic violation and that there were signs that these vehicles were not allowed. He told me to mind my own business. The government needs to show its hard-headedness in such matters as much as it is doing with the Maoists in central India.

Talking of internal security, the government has made major moves. It has taken on the Maoist movement with force. True, there are complaints of security forces riding roughshod over the ultras. But then, the Maoists are not known for grace and diplomacy either. A tough approach will not only contain the insurgents but also send a clear message that this is a hard government that will not stomach violent agitations.

On national security, the government has embarked on a new course. Even while initiating talks with Pakistan, it authorised a major air force exercise some time ago in the Rajasthan desert to demonstrate its fighting capabilities. It was a brilliant move to invite the defense attaches of major diplomatic missions, leaving out the representatives of China and Pakistan. The idea was to exhibit hard power.

To reinforce the government's hard line, the prime minister went to Saudi Arabia and urged its authorities to weigh in with Pakistan to control terrorist groups operating from there. It is clear Pakistan's government has neither the wherewithal nor the will to rein in various terrorist groups with a free run within the country's borders. A Saudi nudge could go a long way to boost the crippled civilian government against rogue elements within the army and intelligence agency.

In the end, however, you have in India an enlightened government beset by a crude political class, a malignant bureaucracy and a pre-modern citizenry. Also, the ship of state seems unable to deal with casteism, communalism and corruption. Bureaucrats blame crass politicians and the ignorant citizenry. Politicians castigate the bureaucracy. Citizens berate politicians and bureaucrats. It's a sort of beggar-thy-neighbour view enabling the entire system to elude responsibility. If everyone's to blame, nobody is accountable. What's clear is that citizens have to take on responsibility; blaming the government and politicians is not enough.

Breaking News: Drowning Out a Tragedy

2011-07-25T12:10:00.007+05:30

Blasts Show Up Television News

What exactly were the television news crews after when they fanned out in the broken precincts of Bombay on the evening of the serial bomb blasts? They were intrusive, unmindful of the privacy of injured citizens and the grief of relatives of dead victims. Screaming and shouting, they collared eyewitnesses to ask them what they had seen. Worse, they tramped into hospital emergency rooms to focus on blood and gore. The result was a jumble of accounts. Piecing the fragments together, the picture that emerged was distorted, like looking at a high definition satellite television picture in a rainstorm.

As the news spread via television, the confusion seemed to grow. The jumbled pictures and stray, disjointed comments from shell-shocked citizens did little to reveal the dimensions of the tragedy. Amid the hysterics, rumors emerged to heighten public anxiety. Emergency services took time to get to the blast sites; police officers at the venues appeared clueless and the government response hesitant.

The next day, July 14, the focus changed completely. News channels seemed to have decided to go a step beyond reporting the news. Instead, they came up with an angle: enough of praising Bombay’s resilience; time to hit out at politicians, bureaucrats and policemen for failing to prevent the attacks. Their reporters waded into trains, scoured the city, looking for the “man in the street.” They ambushed hapless citizens and made them perform to a script.

There are two problems with this: one, can journalists in reporting an event come to it with a premeditated slant? Can editors accept their reporters passing off opinions as facts? Man-on-the-street interviews are useful as local color but they can’t be the story. Or chasing celebrities for their views on the tragedy? This latter approach can only be in pursuit of ratings.

Two, what does it mean when you say Bombay is resilient? A city can have a character and Bombay certainly does have a business-like approach to life. Residents of this city carry on efficiently despite crumbling infrastructure, slums, the underworld, housing shortages, milling crowds and a general sense of decay. That is resilience but it is on display everyday, not just at times of crisis.

It appears that the day after the blasts, the channels decided that “resilience” was an old bromide with no traction among viewers. You would have thought they would have upbraided their reporters for hyping the tragedy. Instead, they sent them, armed with a line, to barge into the tragedy once again: hectoring citizens to read from their script. The crews set out afresh to interview citizens in different parts of the city, asking leading questions. The story angle was clear: left to its own devices, resilient Bombay was angry.

“This city has been the victim of many terrorist blasts. Aren’t you angry and tense? Aren’t you tired of being called resilient and left to fend for yourself? Aren’t you tired of being taken for granted by the government?” The questions flew thick and fast as did the changing headlines on television screens. “Resilient, tired, angry,” they screamed. The television news channels seemed to have decided on the line; their field reporters goaded citizens into “confirming” the story in front of the cameras.

The journalistic practices of the television news media could be the subject of scholarly analysis some distance from “breaking news.” What is of immediate concern is that such ambulance-chasing tactics stoked public insecurities. Television reporters instigated citizens to berate the government in prime time.

This is not to suggest that criticism of the government is unacceptable. Indeed, authorities must be held answerable if they fail or are slow to respond. To do this, reporters need to ferret out hard facts. The analysis can only be effective at some distance from the events. Instant judgments spread fear and rumor at a time when public anxiety is running high.

Where they had a chance to calm things down, bring people together in the face of a major terrorist attack, the news channels took a lowly road. They hyped the events and indulged in the worst kind of speculation and rumor. Sensationalism reigned supreme.

In the face of shrill attempts by news channels to show up its inadequacies, the government response was restrained. The home minister and the prime minister winged their way to Bombay within 24 hours of the incidents. The prompt steps by the leadership blunted the edge of the media’s hysterical coverage.

Finally, Maharashtra chief minister Prithviraj Chavan made an appearance on all major channels and made some candid remarks about the strengths and limitations of government. His bravura performance took the wind out of media hysterics. His direct manner did much to defuse the media hype. His comments went much further than anyone in the Congress or the Opposition reckoned. Chavan was a refreshing voice on television. He spoke with a sincerity that has never been seen before. He appeared at once humble and fully in control, candid and unafraid to speak his mind.

Finally, it is a matter of some irony that the media hype may have actually denied the perpetrators of the Bombay blasts their day in the sun. Maybe India has found a way to deal with terrorism: bury it in hype, trample it in public debate. If only real people didn’t die or get injured!

English: An Indian Language

2011-07-14T16:55:00.004+05:30

So here we go again. Language chauvinists in Goa have launched disruptive protests against the state government’s proposal that will allow primary and secondary schools to offer English as a medium of instruction. This is in addition to Marathi and Konkani.

A bunch of rabble, associated with the Hindutva forces, stopped traffic in Panjim and threatened to hold the state hostage to their misbegotten worldview. It’s not just about Goa, it’s all over India. Same people who protested against the screening of the film Slumdog Millionaire; same people who assaulted women coming out of a bar in Mangalore; same people who renamed the airport and the railway terminus in Bombay; same people who renamed Bombay, Madras and Calcutta.

English, both the language and our cultural heritage, is a convenient horse to flog. Increasingly, though, the burgeoning middle class is embracing it as the key to success in a modernizing country. Thus, while politicians go on renaming sprees, “Indianizing” names of city streets and entire cities, real estate developers across the country sell their projects with Western-sounding names such as “Provence,” “Belvedere” and what have you. In Ahmedabad, Gujarat, I have actually seen commercial and residential properties called “Manhattan” or “White House.”

Coming back to the Goa language disturbances, even the normally rational Manohar Parrikar, opposition leader and erstwhile chief minister, backed the obscurantist protest. He said if children are educated in English, they look down on their parents who don’t speak the language. He is right.

The problem with the English language is it subversive. To accept it is to accept the cultural and philosophical worldview of the Enlightenment. For example: reason, courtesy, egalitarianism and dissent. In the Hindutva worldview, these are not values that are accepted. Instead the focus is on superstition, indulgence, exclusivity and conformism. Children schooled in the English language do not easily buy into backwardness.

If you look around today, journeyman classes that offer students English-language proficiency are burgeoning everywhere. Parents and their children know that to make their way in the world, English is essential. They have no time for chauvinist arguments against the language. They just want their children to get ahead and like all solid middle class Indians place their faith in education.

This is why the Goa government’s bold move is admirable. Clearly, the state government understands that people want the choice to choose English as a medium of instruction. Given the state’s high level of literacy and per capita income, the pro-English segment is sizable and has rallied behind the government.

English has always been an Indian language. In recent years, the number of people who use English as the lingua franca has increased exponentially. A new form of the language has taken shape that incorporates Indian idioms. We are like this only. And it is increasingly accepted. R K Narayan is an early example; Salman Rushdie thrived on it.

Today global literary salons celebrate Indian writers in English bringing Indian cultural flavours to the world. I can name at least a dozen and their number is probably in the hundreds. So it is bit of madness for people in India to dismiss English as a foreign language. Supreme Court judgments are in English as are government policies. They may be translated into various languages but in the first draft they are written in English.

Vernacular chauvinists, who disparage the use of English in India, are products of a feudal mindset that portrays India as a long-suffering victim of colonial oppression. They draw inspiration from the jingoist ranting of M S Golwalkar in his aptly titled book, “Bunch of Thoughts” and amazingly enough also from the Luddite fulminations of Mohandas Gandhi in “Hind Swaraj.” Their India is a closed and diffident victim of unchaste foreigners. Today, such postures appear ridiculous and out of touch with the new, resurgent India.

Protests like the one in Goa flare up now and again, led by fringe groups that are communal and chauvinist. But they fly in the face of what citizens want. The protestors assume that the vast majority of the Indian population has no use for English. They are right; only a small section of the population use English in their lives. However, English is the language of aspirations. Even a semi-literate family in the rural areas knows that for their children to get out of the rut, the passport is proficiency in English.

Unlike yesteryear, when the language of Milton and Shakespeare was a mark of elite status, in the new India, English is the language of upward mobility. As such, it has captured the imagination of a new dynamic and youthful generation that values merit and effort as determinants of success. Its importance is gauged not from numbers but from its grip on the imagination of the burgeoning middle class.

English was introduced as a medium of instruction nearly two centuries ago by British liberals, hoping to “instruct” generations of Indian youth so they could become adequate civil servants in service of the Crown. Many young people from traditional upper caste families eagerly embraced English and parlayed it into a comfortable livelihood with steady incomes and various privileges.

As India enters a new phase, going from a uniquely-won independence to global recognition, English is again the agent of aspiration and change. And it gives me pause to think about just how prescient Thomas Babington Macaulay was when he said in his “Minute on Education:”

“Whether we look at the intrinsic value of our literature, or at the particular situation of this country, we shall see the strongest reason to think that, of all foreign tongues, the English tongue is that which would be the most useful to our native subjects.”

Curiously, today’s chauvinists who protest the use of English reserve their worst for those who celebrate it as a dynamic Indian language. They call us the children of Macaulay; one of several “M’s” they hate including Marx, Modernity and Muslims.

An edited version of this article appeared in Education World, July 2011.

Copyright Rajiv Desai 2011

Beyond the corruption battle

2011-06-10T11:58:00.004+05:30

Let us not get carried away by the crusade of the self-appointed guardians of public interest

First, a "fast unto death" fueled by Information Technology; now, another one inspired by Yoga. Two of India's major exports have come home to roost, cheered by hyperventilating television news channels. Combating corruption is the larger cause that Anna Hazare and Baba Ramdev advocate. And damned be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'

Never mind the Constitution; a pox on all politicians, Hazare says. The good people of India are on the move. By the sheer goodness of their lifestyles, by the shining nobility of their intent, they will cleanse the body politic. Girding his high-minded campaign is a bare-knuckle political demand swaddled in Gandhian homespun: give my chosen people a say in the framing of the Lokpal bill.

Who elected you? We nominated ourselves by virtue of Magsaysay awards and membership in "peoples' movements." What about the Constitution? Ours is a higher cause.

Ramdev's demands are too absurd to be given any sort of respectability. His potent mix of religiosity and postmodernism threatens, nevertheless, to overwhelm the Hazare protest. His followers are true believers, seeking to achieve perfect communion of the self with the universal truth.

In contrast, the cappuccino-swilling denizens of cyberspace, who form the bulk of Hazare's supporters, are causerati; tomorrow they will turn their attention to the dangers of cellphone use or the hazards of nuclear power. Small wonder then that Hazare, despite being "unwell", has said he will be present at Delhi's Ramlila Maidan in solidarity with the godman.

The question arises though: if civil society activists inspired by grandiosity and true believers mesmerised by a godman can demand a say in the way laws are made and the government is run, then why not business associations like the CII and Ficci? Or trade unions? Or for that matter, Rotary and Lions Clubs? What makes Hazare and Ramdev and their acolytes so special?

What is alarming about the hunger strikes is that the people who support them seem to have no time for political processes and constitutional restraint. Indian democracy has managed to negotiate the mind-numbing diversity that could have splintered the country; the Constitution is a charter that legitimises and separates the role of the executive, the legislature and the judiciary. Despite the obvious governance deficit, there prevails a modicum of the rule of law.

Changes are needed to usher in the idea of a government not as a master but in service of the people. A corollary to the notion of government as master is that of bureaucrats and politicians as a rentier class that extorts money from hapless citizens to provide services and permissions as favours rather than as due process. This is the source of corruption in all socialist systems where the dead hand of government smothers entrepreneurship and opportunities to make a dignified living.

India took a giant step two decades ago when it scrapped the licence-permit raj. Its emergence as a significant global player can be traced back to the reforms of 1991. Loosening controls is easier than the second stage of reform: to provide effective governance. Political stability is a key element in second-stage reforms.

In the UPA's first turn, we had the unseemly spectacle of an arrogant Left combining with a peeved BJP in an effort to oust the government over a foreign policy initiative: the strategic partnership with the US. The UPA survived and in the 2009 election went on to win bigger. The Left and the BJP saw their influence shrink dramatically.

But political uncertainty persisted as the UPA was confronted with accusations of corruption in telecom deals, the Commonwealth Games and various other projects. Today's challenges come not from opposition political parties but self-appointed guardians of the public interest: righteous activists and now, a slippery godman. Dealing with such groups is problematic because they don't abide by the Constitution but owe allegiance to a "higher cause".

TV news channels and to a lesser extent, the print media are obsessed by these protests. They convey the impression of a corruption-singed government at sea in the face of this 'uprising'. Overwhelmed by deafening din of TV reporters without the slightest sense of objectivity, I fled to the sanity of international journalism. There I found the following stories:

The Indian government has drawn up ambitious plans to double exports to $500 billion in the next three years. The trade-to-GDP ratio has already increased from 15% in 1990 to 35% today.
With supportive government policies, India's pharmaceutical sector has emerged as a global force, supplying low-cost, high-quality off-patent medicine to the developed as well as developing nations.
India has become the world center for 'frugal engineering', manufacturing low-cost products that are resistant to tough environments while maintaining high quality standards.

This is not to suggest that the protests should not be covered; only that it should not lead to a situation in which the adversarial nature of the relationship between the media and the government is twisted so much that a duly-elected government is portrayed an enemy of the people.

It would be fair if Indian journalists could also track other stories as well: of an India that is rapidly finding its metier on the world stage; of the rising aspirations of young India confronting the victim mindsets that enervate the older generation.

This article appeared in The Economic Times, June 4, 2011.

Copyright Rajiv Desai 2011

Goa Journal

2011-05-04T10:21:00.009+05:30

The Anxiety of Freedom

Panjim: The beginning is mundane. You arrive at a jetty on this capital city’s iconic waterfront, tumble out of the car, make an awkward climb to a floating jetty and jump into the boat. After that, it is a liberating experience.

Within minutes, the speedboat set off to explore the Mandovi River and its backwaters. We flitted in and out of waterways and their littorals, the mangroves that seemed to eat into the river as our boat maneuvered past overhanging branches through the twisting, winding backwaters. A calm descended on us; the outside word ceased to exist.

For a fleeting moment of schadenfreude, we thought about friends in Delhi and Bombay, stuck in traffic jams and all manner of urban discomfiture. As we floated through the backwaters, it seemed to me we had chanced upon an undiscovered world. And as we emerged from this mysterious water world back into the mainstream, we were confronted by sweeping vistas on offer by the mighty Mandovi.

Rivers play an important role in the life of India. They are considered sacred but modern India treats them as sewers, dumping waste and poisons in them. Most rivers in India are dirty and dying. The Mandovi is, in stark contrast, clean and is used for commerce and transport. Now, it is being increasingly used for pleasure.

And so it was for pleasure that we found ourselves rolling on the river. With the wind upon our faces and wonder in our eyes, we floated in the waters and saw a Goa that is mind-boggling; away from the beaches and the tourist spots. Time stood still here and the two hours stretched to an eternity.

The Mandovi tidal basin is an intricate system of wetlands, marshes and paddy fields, intersected by canals, dykes, bays, lagoons and creeks. The river and the backwaters are governed by regular tides that reach up to 20 miles upstream.

Our two-hour long experience on the Mandovi filled us with reverence for the majesty of nature. The river seems eternal; I use the word “seems” because it is impossible to grasp and define eternity in terms of years, centuries or millennia. And understanding this, the use of “seems,” puts you face to face with spirituality and its temporal offshoots: faith and communion.

Herman Hesse in his book Siddhartha wrote about “the restless departures and the search for stillness at home; the diversity of experience and the harmony of a unifying spirit; the security of religious dogma and the anxiety of freedom."

Over the years, I have come to celebrate diversity, to value harmony. Now I am concerned about religion and its effect on, “the anxiety of freedom.” These imponderables have occupied my thoughts. I have often wondered, wouldn’t it be so much simpler to be a man of faith?

But where do you place your faith?

Of all the religions, I have always been intrigued by Catholicism and its celebration of faith and communion, week after week; generation after generation; across communities, nations and cultures. Each Sunday, believers go to church and reaffirm the dogma that Christ was born of Immaculate Conception; He was crucified and rose from the dead. This they call proclaiming the mystery of faith. They receive the wafer and wine believing them to be the body and blood of Jesus Christ, which they call the Holy Communion, the Eucharist, the thanksgiving.

That afternoon on the boat, contemplating the majesty of the river and its various branched waterways, I began to get a glimmer of the spirituality of faith and the mystery of communion.

And no, I have not found religion. I still remain firmly a skeptic. But that experience on the Mandovi will make me a tad slower to challenge matters of faith. Call it the anxiety of freedom.

On our way back to the dock, we stopped midstream for a libation and a view of Panjim as the lights came on. It was a spectacular sight; the neat laidback city on the estuary came alive with its nocturnal personality. It was not Manhattan or Chicago but from the darkness enveloping the river, it was a sign of civilization. In the end, despite the majesty of nature, the lights of Panjim were comforting, a sign that in the end, civilization is what this world is about.

As we returned to shore, we were forced to contemplate mundane problems like where to have dinner. We settled on a restaurant in Candolim, the hip and happening place in north Goa. When we reached there, a solo singer was in attendance.

When we walked in, he launched into the Louis Armstrong 1968 classic vocal that celebrates nature, humanity, eternity: the wondrous mystery of life: What a wonderful world...yeah!

Copyright Rajiv Desai 2011

Fast Times in Modern Democracy?

2011-04-11T11:23:00.001+05:30

Anna Hazare’s “fast unto death” is a throwback to more innocent times when the oppressor was colonial, clearly identified and vilified. Today, it is infinitely more complex. Hazare on a protest fast may evoke a longing for the black and white simplicity of yesteryear. The nostalgic appeal has sparked a cyber rush among young chatterati who wander aimlessly through the hills and dales of social networks, seeking company, making connections, buying and selling ideas and products.

If you cut back to the 1080i high definition picture of modern life with its 5.1 surround sound track, you’ll find that Hazare and his handlers have cleverly manipulated an old symbol made famous by Mohandas Gandhi. Calling it a fast against corruption, Hazare has touched a chord among young cyber savvy Indians, who see in the old man’s protest a chance to fulfill their youthful aspirations to revolt against the system. Budapest in the 1950s; Paris and Chicago in the 1960s; Beijing in the 1980s; Prague in the 1990; Cairo and Tunis recently and now Delhi.

Clearly, the seemingly innocent khadi-clad activist and his wily handlers have managed to rally young netizens. By calling it a fight against corruption, they have cleverly deflected the glare from the hard political demand underlying the fast: give civil society activists a role in framing laws; a demand no government can concede without violating its oath to uphold the Constitution.

The notion that civil society activists must be given a say in the framing of the anti-corruption law is misbegotten. No matter how righteous the cause; no matter how pious the protest, activists have no locus standi as lawmakers. The Constitution is very clear on the separation of powers and reserves the law making function to elected representatives.

Stripped of its saintly posture, Hazare’s protest is a challenge to the Constitution. Dreamy and romantic netizens, who have been set all a-twitter by it, don’t seem to realize that Hazare and his handlers have been active since the 1970s. Styled as people’s movements, these groups have never embraced the Constitution as the final arbiter of political, social, economic and cultural diversity. Theirs was always a higher cause.

The Constitution has helped India negotiate diversity, poverty and various challenges to emerge as one of the world’s fastest growing countries. Its government now has a seat at the high table of international diplomacy; its economy has lifted millions from abysmal poverty; its political system consists of the exercise of the largest franchise in the world blessed with a “throw the rascals out” mindset of the electorate.

Hazare’s crusade draws ideological inspiration from Hind Swaraj, the Gandhian diatribe against modernity. Corruption seems to be merely a cause recruited in the long-term campaign against modernity. It’s a clever choice because indeed corruption is public affairs topic one.

Fed up with incessant reports about large-scale corruption, influenced by the Jasmine scents of Tunisia and Egypt, hundreds of young people have rallied to the cause. In North Africa, the targets were clear cut: long ruling dictators. Here there is a democratically elected government. Even if the protest can draw hundreds of thousands of people into the streets; even if the most righteous, learned and saintly people turn out; they cannot challenge the legitimacy of an elected government.

What Hazare and his fellow travelers are saying is not new; they’re on a well-charted path laid out in Gandhi’s book. They damn the entire political process as corrupt and seek to replace it with high-minded vigilantism. Even if it is composed of angels and saints, a vigilante group has no place in a modern constitutional democracy.

This article appeared in The Economic Times, April 10, 2011.

Copyright Rajiv Desai 2011

Is the Jan Lokpal Bill the answer?

2011-04-07T14:44:00.001+05:30

Ibnlive.com
Posted on Apr 07, 2011 at 12:12pm IST

What is Anna Hazare really campaigning for? To Indian citizens, his courageous display of moral outrage represents a crusade against corruption. This is a time when the ruling UPA Administration is beleaguered not only by the surfacing of a number of big-ticket scams but also by its inability to act firmly against the people seen to be the perpetrators. No wonder, then, that Hazare’s fast has become for angry Indians a potent symbol of protest against dishonesty. And it is this that has become a clarion call for citizens raising their voice – online and offline.

However, the majority of his newfound supporters are probably not aware of the precise nature of Hazare’s demands. He is asking for a drastically revised version of the Lokpal Bill, the draft legislation that seeks to set up a body to investigate accusations of corruption against individuals and institutions within the government and the administrative machinery around the country. Or, against public servants.

An alternative version of this Bill, dubbed the Jan Lokpal Bill, has been drafted by, inter alia, former Union Law Minister Shanti Bhushan, former IPS officer Kiran Bedi, Justice N. Santosh Hegde, renowned advocate Prashant Bhushan and former chief election commissioner J. M. Lyngdoh. Perhaps the most striking aspect of this version: it seeks to virtually bypass the involvement of the government in the process of creating the Lokpal body.

Thus, the selection committee it envisages would include, among others, all laureates of Indian origin, the last two Magsaysay Prize winners of Indian origin, the two seniormost judges of the Supreme Court and of the High Courts, and Bharat Ratna award winners. The Administration would be represented by the chairpersons of the Lok Sabha and the Rajya Sabha, the Chief Election Commissioner and the Comptroller and Auditor General.

Clearly, this version sees no role for the people who have been democratically elected to govern the country. The message runs deep: to adopt such a system would be to acknowledge the failure of democracy as an institution, and install a vigilante-oriented body that can act on its own discretion in terms of what and whom to investigate and has police powers to prosecute perceived transgressors.

There is a naïve idealism imbued in this alternative structure, implying that the women and men who will be members of the Lokpal will be perfect citizens with no agenda other than weeding out corruption. But its powers will be sweeping, and with no checks and balances, what will prevent such a body from turning into a motivated, witch-hunting mchanism? The wheels of the administration may grind frustratingly slowly, but that also reduces the chances of the kind of arbitrary prosecution that India saw during the Emergency.

For instance, among the activities that the Bill considers as evidence of corruption are:

1. Gross or willful negligence; recklessness in decision making; blatant violations of systems and procedures; exercise of discretion in excess, where no ostensible/public interest is evident; failure to keep the controlling authority/superiors informed in time.

2. Failure/delay in taking action, if under law the government servant ought to do so, against subordinates on complaints of corruption or dereliction of duties or abuse of office by the subordinates.

3. Indulging in discrimination through one’s conduct, directly or indirectly.

It is not difficult to see the room for interpretation here, leading to persecution rather than prosecution. In effect, the Jan Lokpal Bill wants to arm the Lokpal with powers that combine the Legislative, the Judiciary and the Administrative. The way its creators see it, it can set policy, investigate and prosecute, and sit in judgment.

Step back further, and a larger question presents itself. Are democratically elected and constituted institutions no longer to run this country? The extreme measures proposed in this ‘people’s version’ are a measure of the unhappiness, frustration and anger within civil society at what appears to be the tacit complicitness of government in corruption. However, to demand sweeping powers on the basis of moral outrage is another matter altogether.

None of this is to disparage the purity of Anna Hazare’s mission - or the Indian citizen’s eagerness to join hands with him in what is perceived as a crusade against corruption. But in its present form, the Jan Lokpal Bill may only substitute one monster with another.

A Short History of Public Relations in India

2011-03-10T10:27:00.005+05:30

Growing Importance, Declining Values

Speech at Communications Unplugged

A TED^X Event

MICA, Ahmedabad, Gujarat

February 26, 2011

Good morning.

Many thanks to the organizers for this opportunity.

I’d like to talk to you this morning about the history of public relations consulting in India.

My perspective is unique.

The firm that I founded in 1987 was the first of its kind in India.

So the history of the business intersects with my own experiences in the business.

Coincidentally, it also is a history of economic liberalization in India.

###

Does anyone know how old the business is?

Well, it dates back to biblical times.

The first PR consultant was with Moses, when he led the Jews out of Egypt to escape the Pharaoh’s vicious rule.

Thousands of Jews followed Moses as he led the march to freedom in the “promised land.”

The flight came to a stop at the edge of the Red Sea. With the Pharaoh gaining on, his followers turned to Moses, praying for help.

“Don’t fret,” Moses told them. “I will part the sea and we will simply walk across.”

Everyone was awestruck; religious fervor rose to fever pitch. They hailed Moses as the Messiah. They swore loyalty and fealty and praised the Lord.

Among them was this public relations consultant, who spotted a huge opportunity. He went up to Moses.

“Look chief, if you pull this off, I can get you 10 pages in the Old Testament.”

###

By comparison, PR is relatively young in India; but the issues are similar: about right and wrong; ethics and morality.

Let’s take a closer look…

In 1988, when I had just launched IPAN, India’s first PR consulting firm, I was asked by a journalist from The Economic Times to explain the essence of public relations.

I held out two identical pencils. “The one in my left hand is made by Tata; the other by Reliance. Which would you pick?”

Guess which one the journalist picked?

Today, he may have picked neither; then he picked the Tata pencil.

Asked to explain the reason for his choice, the journalist said it was because Tata has a better reputation than Reliance.

Since neither company did much by way of corporate advertising, focusing instead on product advertising, it is clear that Tata did all kinds of things that got noticed and met with public approval.

In advertising parlance, these are known as “below the line” activities.

That, I told the journalist, is the essence of public relations.

The job of a public relations man is to persuade his client to do good things, ensure they get noticed and thus win the public trust.

###

One of the 20^th century’s foremost public relations men was Mohandas Gandhi. As such he did not have a client but a higher cause.

His “Satyagraha" was a shrewd strategy that attracted media attention: whether he was burning passes in South Africa or making salt in India.

Familiar with the British press, parliament and courts, Gandhi knew instinctively which buttons to push.

He used the press and the courts to stir British Parliament.

Just how sophisticated was this strategy!

Gandhi figured that non-cooperation would force the colonial government to respond with violence and incarceration.

This made the front pages of British newspapers and forced Parliament to act.

In the end, Indian independence came when the differences between Parliament in London and the colonial government in Delhi became irreconcilable.

It’s too bad that India has deified Gandhi. One of the titans of the 20^th century is now worshipped when he deserved to be studied.

But I digress…

I want to trace for you the growth of the business since I founded the first PR consulting firm in 1987.

PR consulting started out with a bang.

The company I founded, IPAN, was first off the block.

###

One early client was Pepsi that had struggled for more than two years to secure government approval to set up operations in India.

When we arrived on the scene, Pepsi had become the butt of negative stories in the press and questions in Parliament.

Beleaguered, the American company changed partners and roped in Voltas and the Punjab Agro-Industries Corporation.

From January 1988, we went to work, trying to beat back the disinformation spread about the company in the media and in Parliament.

At the time, the soft drinks industry in India was small, dominated by one player, Parle that had 80 percent of the market.

A check with the media and various politicians told us the campaign against Pepsi was orchestrated by Parle.

Our strategy then became not to reply to the negative stories but to show that the entrenched soft drinks lobby was behind the negative publicity.

We also showed that the soft drinks industry in India simply could not meet the demand and that there were huge quality issues.

Then, we highlighted Pepsi’s commitment to Punjab; that they would help farmers build a value-added business of growing potatoes and tomatoes.

Thus, we were able to demonstrate that entry of Pepsi was in the public interest.

We were able to do that once we convinced the press and the parliamentarians that the campaign against Pepsi was simply a market manoeuvre.

It took until September when the government okayed the Pepsi project.

In the flush of victory, many people told me it had to do with my equation with Rajiv Gandhi.

In fact, Voltas had a “resident director,” Anil Shastri, who went on to become the minister of state in the finance ministry.

Neither of us brought up the subject in our interactions with Rajiv.

No, the approval for the Pepsi project did not result from influence peddling.

What we did was change the focus of public debate.

The domestic sector had raised all kinds of from pseudo nationalistic issues.

We said it was just plain commercial rivalry.

We said it often and with great conviction.

Once that message sank in, we were able to tell the Pepsi story and how it would benefit India, Punjab and soft drinks industry.

Today you know how Pepsi has gone on to become a youth icon.

The company has created thousands of direct and indirect jobs, not just in bottling and distribution but also in advertising, pr and other ancillary businesses including the paanwallahs and various others in the “unorganized” sector.

###

A year later, there was Citibank. Its local management was charged with introducing the global consumer to India.

At the time, the sector was monopolized by public sector banks that were charged with “social banking.”

There was no sense of consumer banking: no credit cards, no ATMs, no mortgages, and no car loans.

Citibank had applied for licences but was stumped by the government banks and the Reserve Bank.

The idea was to prove to the government that the lobby against foreign banks was sheer ideological bias.

We conducted a survey that showed among the regulatory agencies, there was perceptible bias against Citibank.

Our counsel was to highlight the fact that Citibank that had done business in India since 1902 was very much part of the national agenda.

To this end, we persuaded Citibank to make a strong pro-India statement in response to the US Trade Representative’s decision to name India as an unfair trader under a new law called Super 301.

The bank’s New York public affairs unit submitted an affidavit to the USTR saying their experience was that India is a fair trader.

We gave the story as an exclusive to India’s most credible economics writer.

It made a huge splash and rapidly changed perceptions about Citibank.

In the event, the Indian government gave Citibank permission to set up their consumer operations in India.

The rest is history: what we take for granted now—credit cards, auto loans, mortgages, consumer financing—had their origins in the campaign by Citibank.

Over the years, millions of people in India were empowered: to buy cars, appliances, vacations and homes and also stocks and mutual funds and insurance.

###

In 1991, a young English guy came and talked to me about a pie-in-the-sky venture called Satellite Television Asia Region, now known as STAR TV.

Promoted by Richard Li, a twenty-something from Hong Kong, the satellite television venture ran into predictable opposition from the information and broadcasting ministry that had a monopoly on television.

By creating a business opportunity for small and medium enterprises, cable operators and equipment manufacturers, we advised STAR TV to challenge the government monopoly by rallying these newly-minted businesses to support them.

In a final bid to retain its monopoly, the government introduced the confused Cable and Satellite Regulation Act in 1993 with view to curb the threat to its monopoly.

We helped STAR TV rally support from cable operators and equipment manufacturers to fight against the bill’s unreasonable strictures on the cable and satellite business.

Today, there are still many flaws in the cable business, which got taken over by thugs and political goons, and has therefore languished in technological backwaters.

In the event, cable has been surpassed by organized satellite broadcasters. And we have global quality direct-to-home television.

In freeing the television business, STAR TV created thousands of jobs not just in their direct operations but in associated businesses.

Though I must add the boom in television broadcasting is not all to the good.

The news element is beset by shrill incompetence.

The entertainment business has revived all manner of traditional practices that have no place in a modern society.

On the whole, though, it has been good for the country.

###

These three case studies were about success in challenging monopolies.

One of the things we prided ourselves on was our involvement at the very cutting edge of change in India.

As India evolved rapidly into a consumer market, we were there.

Pepsi Citibank and STAR TV changed everything.

The Indian citizen, always beset by a scarcity mindset and a make-do culture, now had choice and abundance.

###

The next case study is one of which I am very proud.

In 1993, Manmohan Singh, then finance minister, was about to announce a path-breaking budget that dissolved the licence-permit raj.

The previous December, we were retained by the Indian Soaps and Toiletries Manufacturers Association to help their campaign to bring down taxes.

They told us the government was ready to slash taxes on the sector but it was important for ISTMA to handle the “fallout.”

Toiletries and cosmetics were treated as somehow not in sync with tradition.

The sector also was treated derisively by policy makers and their academic fellow travellers.

“You talk about lipstick and perfume when there so many millions in the country who can’t get a square meal.”

This was a typical rejoinder from high-minded mandarins in the bureaucracy and in the academy.

But Singh saw the merit in the ISTMA argument that reduced taxes could help the sector boom and provide jobs and additional revenue from increased sales volumes.

Our effort to handle the “fallout,” began with the prejudice issue; we asking well-known women across the country to sign a petition that said toiletries and cosmetics were in fact a part of the Indian tradition.

On the taxation issue, we made common cause with many economists who showed how lowering rates could boost tax revenues.

Finally, we worked with consumer groups such as Common Cause to highlight how high taxes bred spurious and pilfered products that posed a hazard to consumers.

It was with great satisfaction that on budget day 1993, we found the finance minister had used lines from our petition to announce a huge cut in tax rates on the sector.

Since then, as we all know, the toiletries and cosmetics business boomed.

And the boom energized the beauty sector and made India into a super power, winning back to back titles in the various contests such as Miss World and Miss Universe.

###

In recent times, we’ve dealt with the commissioning of the Bandra Worli Sea Link.

You may know that there were several contentious issues that swirled around the project that was built by HCC, a Bombay-based infrastructure company.

One was about delays and cost escalation.

Another was about the sustained opposition from so-called activists.

By positioning the bridge as the icon of 21^st century Bombay, we gained support from the media, political leaders and prominent citizens.

Tools included a National Geographic documentary that highlighted the state-of-the-art technology.

Also the bridge was offered as a backdrop to a Times of India promo featuring Amitabh Bachchan.

We also helped the company set up an experience center at the site.

This became a good way to educate media and others about the project.

On June 30 2009, when the project was officially commissioned, political leaders, bureaucrats and prominent citizens literally fell over each other for an invitation to the function.

The Bandra Worli Sea Link is a boon to Bombay’s frazzled commuters and is an indispensable part of the city infrastructure.

It is well on the way to replacing the colonial-era Gateway of India as the icon of 21^st-century Bombay.

###

In “breaking news,” our most recent project is the Lavasa Hill City that is coming up near Poona.

The first of its kind in independent India, Lavasa is a new-age concept that uses the principles of the “new urbanism” in which urban areas are planned so that people can live, work and play there.

Under assault from Luddite groups and an ambitious union minister, the project is currently stranded.

I can’t tell you much more than that.

Except the Lavasa project has challenged the notion purveyed by various activist groups that all development is bad.

That in fact, development is a carefully considered choice in which growth and environment need to be balanced.

###

In the nearly 25 years of its existence, the public relations consulting business has grown in importance.

In the early years, it played mainly an advocacy role, helping international and domestic companies pioneer new businesses in India.

Later, it became an adjunct to corporate marketing departments, focused mainly on media relations.

Now it has assumed a management function, helping newly empowered corporate communications department meet the growing demands for advocacy, media relations, media monitoring, training, cyber PR, government relations, recruitment, and CSR.

###

There is however a darker side to our discipline.

And it needs to be addressed squarely else we lose credibility as a 21^st century discipline.

As it has grown in importance, professional values and ethics have become somewhat blurred.

This has become painfully evident in recent months.

I refer here to the telecom scam and role played in it by a PR consulting firm and its chief executive.

It is amazing that a single person, with no previous experience in the field, climbed to such dizzy heights using influence peddling techniques.

As such, she was entrusted with the responsibility to manage corporate communications for India’s two largest conglomerates.

It is even more amazing that the heads of both these behemoths heeded the advice of an untrained and inexperienced person.

The 2G scam dented many individual and corporate reputations.

My concern here is to make a clear distinction between the practice of professional public relations and the kind of influence peddling that was revealed in the scam.

We need for the profession to embrace some sort of a pledge like the Hippocratic Oath in which, among other things, the practitioner pledges “first, do no harm.”

Thank You

Copyright Rajiv Desai 2011

A Thoughtful Budget

2011-03-07T11:18:00.002+05:30

Media Don’t Get It

Except for The Wall Street Journal and the very thoughtful program anchored by Prannoy Roy on NDTV, the budget got short shrift everywhere else in the media. The general assessment was it was a mediocre or bad budget. Which is as far from the truth as Alaska is from India.

Hours on television and pages in the newspapers were full of meaningless analyses. Some said there were no major reform announcements; others moaned about the tax provisions. One particularly egregious businesswallah, member of the tribe that shows up on television each February 28, ranted about the tax on “centrally air conditioned hospitals.”

The growth brigade was out in full force lamenting this, that and the other. The Left and jholewallahs also dismissed he budget as a continuation of the neoliberlal conspiracy to sell India to the West. The BJP, its credibility waning by the minute, made its usual noise.

The media, “civil” society groups, the Left and the Hindu nationalists couldn’t have got it more wrong. The media are ill-informed and incompetent. The activists are naysayers; the Left works on a discredited economics model and the BJP, aka the Hindu nationalists, are clueless.

Consider the following ten points taken straight out of the finance minister’s speech:

1. Food prices are high despite improved availability. The finance minister said this was because of shortcomings in the marketing and distribution system. Held in thrall by the government and random retailers and middlemen the marketing and distribution system is a problem. So the signal is they will open up to organized retail marketing.

2. Inflation management calls for a focus on agriculture. The need is to improve productivity. The finance minister’s message was to improve the quality of inputs including mechanization, nutrient-based fertilizers and biotech applications.

3. Also addressed in the budget was the need to remove bottlenecks in value-added farming, including horticulture, dairy, poultry and meat. This is of a piece with the findings of the S S Johl committee that was formed in the 1980s and recommended that at least 20 percent of farm land be given over to value-added crops.

4. The finance minister announced the formation of a public debt management agency. The idea is to depoliticize debt and curb populist spending.

5. Disinvestment of public sector units is a huge problem. Calling it the need to increase people’s ownership of these government owned companies, the minister said the government looked to raising 40,000 crore from the sale of their shares in the stock market.

6. Amendment of the banking regulation act is a major announcement. In its purview, private sector banks will be allowed to open more branches. As such, the so-called aam aadmi will not have to battle for banking services that are a problem in the nationalized banks.

7. Also announced was a plan to modernize the stamp and registration administration and the setting up of a central electronic registry for immovable properties. It is a strike in the heart of darkness because real estate is the major source of black money.

8. This is perhaps most important. The government will now do direct cash transfers to people below the poverty line. It’s a brilliant move to stop leakages from welfare schemes.

9. On the taxes front, the finance minister has left most levies untouched but has given a break to the bulk of taxpayers by increasing the exclusion amounts.

These are a few, and there are many more, of the budget’s highlights. It is abundantly clear the government knows what it’s doing.

The budget is beyond is beyond partisan politics and is a sophisticated response to the globalization of India’s economy.

It is clear that this government understands the issues and the problems. It is, as the finance minister said, a transition to a more transparent and result based economic management system.

I think it is a great budget for an increasingly sophisticated economy.

What do you think? Write me.

Copyright Rajiv Desai 2011

India: Hostage to a Demented Culture

2011-02-09T16:03:00.002+05:30

My father, who is in his 90s, suffers from dementia. As such, he has no memory of the past and no idea of the future. He lives in the here and now.

Just the other day, he fell and hurt his head. We took him to the emergency room at a local hospital, where the doctor examined him and declared him fit.

The nurses cleaned the superficial cut on his head and released him. In the interim, I was heart broken to hear him utter the words, “internal sorrow,” not once but twice.

As I got to thinking about his condition, I couldn’t help marvel how closely it parallels the state in which India finds itself: without any wisdom from the past, without any vision of the future; just the here and now.

The words “internal sorrow” are often expressed and lived out in the myriads of petty conflicts and self-centered postures.

India is in a state of dementia, largely because of the here-and-now culture that has taken hold since the turn of the millennium. It is hard to discern if there is anything learned from the past or if there are any plans for the future. And let’s not blame just the government or politicians; the citizenry has a lot to answer for.

At a recent lunch in the Delhi Golf Club, I saw the unseemly spectacle of a child fooling around with the lawn umbrella, changing its incline in dangerous ways while his mother shoveled food into his mouth; or on a Spicejet flight a few weeks ago, where a mother, diverted her bawling son’s attention by allowing him to play with the call button that summons a stewardess.

Both taught their sons to be oblivious of other people who might be disturbed and diverted their attention rather than discipline them.

Such children grow up to be inconsiderate adults, rich or poor, educated or illiterate, who have no restraints on public behavior and the need to be alive to the privacy and wellbeing of others. Thus, on an automated walkway at Delhi’s dysfunctional Terminal 3, a couple, obviously well educated and affluent, walked abreast, not giving way, unmindful of me right behind them, in a hurry to get to the gate where my flight had been called.

These child rearing practices have bred a uni-dimensional culture. Such cultures are demented in the sense that only a self-serving present matters; there is no learning from the past, no dimension of a better future other than instant gratification. Barbaric rituals and hypoglycemic hypocrisy are the hallmarks of such a culture.

In the grip of this demented culture, India is increasingly rich but less modern; increasingly powerful but less civilized. And government and politics and corruption and inequity have little to do with it.

Some years ago, I complained to a senior police official about the inability of his force to ensure the smooth flow of traffic. He looked me squarely in the eye and said, “I could have five million traffic cops on the streets but still you will not have order; the culture seems to breed chaos.”

More recent: another senior policeman told me last week the problem is that despite clear-eyed laws, “we are told to encourage consensus even in the face of flagrant violations.” In other words, “adjust!”

Yet, civil society groups, the media, the business elite and the intellectual set would have us believe that the system works but is subverted by corrupt businessmen, politicians and bureaucrats. The arguments are essentially messianic based on a belief that ascetic figures like Medha Patkar and Anna Hazare; brand ambassadors like Sachin Tendulkar and Amitabh Bachchan or soothsayers like Sri Sri Ravi Shankar and Satya Sai Baba could restore values and bring order into public life

Messianic zeal in Indian public affairs is the legacy of Mohandas Gandhi, who acquiesced in his lifetime to the title, “Mahatma.” He was indeed a great soul who challenged and ultimately defeated the British Raj.

Trouble is Gandhi had a lifelong problem with modernity. His book, Hind Swaraj, was a diatribe against modern culture, which he equated with Westernization. His retort on Western civilization, (“I think it would be a good idea”) remains in my mind the tipping point in his conversion from political strategist to the Mahatma.

In that flippant remark, Gandhi dismissed the Renaissance and the Enlightenment that brought modernity and economic prosperity to the West. Gandhi’s view of the West still has acolytes in 21^st century India.

That is one reason why economic prosperity is there for all to see in India today; but modernity, defined as civil values stemming from a concern for others, is a long way away.

The key to India’s modernization is education. Today, parents demand a “good education” so their children can find steady, well-paid jobs in India and around the world. The system is geared to vocational, technical and management training; it does not provide a liberal arts perspective in which civility and socialization are inculcated in students.

What’s more, parents fail to understand that “success” does not come just being “well educated.” The most important thing is for their children to be “well bred.” This means that their children should not just be knowledgeable and bright but aware of their civic responsibilities: don’t drive like lunatics, don’t litter, don’t pee in public, give a thought for others and be courteous.

Above all, parents need to inculcate in their children pride in the neighborhood, the city, the country (not the stunted nationalism that the Hindutva hordes propagate). Children can be well-educated through schools but well-bred only through parents. They hold the key to India’s modernity.

An edited version of this article appeared in Education World, February 2011.

Copyright Rajiv Desai 2011

American Life 10

2011-01-19T11:02:00.003+05:30

Hatemongering…

New York: It was a jaw-dropping piece of news. Gabrielle Giffords, a young Democratic member of the House of Representatives from Tucson, Arizona was shot in the head by a crazed assassin in a parking lot as she did her regular meeting with her constituents on Saturday January 8.

The shooting shocked America. Since March 1981, when John W Hinckley Jr took a shot at Ronald Reagan, I can recall no other such event. The Reagan shooting precipitated a national debate on gun control; this latest one raised issues about the polarization in politics that took hold when George W Bush was president.

For me, the news harked back to the night of May 21 1991 when I got a call informing me that Rajiv Gandhi was killed in Sriperumbudur in the southern state of Madras. My heart went out to the family, friends and staff of Giffords.

Giffords’ immediate supporters probably feel today as I felt on that stormy night in May 1991: the dream was over; political violence has a way of putting paid to ideals. I worked with Rajiv for many years and was devastated at the news of his death.

When Rajiv was assassinated, I told an interviewer from The Times of India that he was killed because of the hate atmosphere that was created by his opponents in politics and in the media.

Amazingly, this was among the issues being debated 30 years later in America. In a television discussion on January 12, David Remnick, editor of The New Yorker, told the host Charlie Rose that hate mongering is an important determinant of political assassinations. In his cool, scholastic way Remnick endorsed what I told the Times in a fit of emotion some two decades ago.

The Giffords shooting brought to mind the assassinations of Abraham Lincoln, Mohandas Gandhi, John Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi. Their opponents had launched a relentless and visceral hate campaign against them.

Among the many stories that emerged from the Giffords shooting, one was about Sarah Palin’s website on which she had marked targeted constituencies for her yet-unspoken campaign in 2012 with cross-hair targets and one of them was Giffords’ 8^th congressional district in southern Arizona.

In the middle of the reasoned debate about how a polarized hate atmosphere can move deranged people to target public figures, Sarah Palin, the erstwhile Republican vice presidential candidate, the Narendra Modi of American politics, weighed in; she accused the media of “blood libel.”

In turn, her detractors pointed out that her phrase “blood libel” was anti-semitic. The phrase has been used since Biblical times to reinforce the fundamentalist Christian view that Jews are the killers of Jesus Christ. Like Gujarat's Modi, Palin lacks sophistication, preferring the use of propaganda to work up her constituents; like Modi, she uses insulting and intemperate words to score over her opponents.

A recent example of this was in her tweet: "So how's the hopey-changey thing working out for ya?"

Contrast Palin's tilt in the debate to the much anticipated speech that President Barack Obama gave after the shooting. Rising above the clamor, he said that political differences are real but should not be allowed to become the source of violence. He reached out to his opponents and asked for a compact of civility that would foreswear hate.

Watching television coverage and debates on the shooting of Congresswoman Giffords, I was struck by several things. One, the coverage was wall-to-wall. Two, there was a liberal slant to it in that most reporters and commentators pointed discreet fingers at the right-wing cable and radio mafia for hatemongering. Three, Sarah Palin got embroiled in it.

It’s much like what the Indian media do except the Americans did it in a sophisticated, understated and well-researched fashion. No screaming and shouting and rumor-mongering, just well-reasoned arguments.

Conversations on public affairs in India are sophomoric with opinions based on prejudice rather than facts; debates are in the nature of high school encounters; the discourse as a result is usually twisted and misses the point. Indeed, if America is a post-doctoral democracy, India is still to get into college.

Though it may be not the most politically correct thing to say, fingers can be pointed at Mohandas Gandhi’s jibe. Asked what he thought of Western civilization, he said, “It would be a good idea.”

In that one smug remark, Gandhi dismissed the Renaissance, the Reformation and the Enlightenment, movements that raised the West to unprecedented heights of prosperity and civility.

Consider 21^st century India: people urinate and defecate in public; female children are suffocated at birth; brides are snuffed out for lack of dowry; there is still hunger (India ranks number 94 in the global hunger chart); most people live without water and sanitation; cities are slums and villages dens of inequity and filth.

The legacy of Gandhi’s flippant remark can be observed in the immaturity of public discourse in India. Serious issues are subverted in the flush of smug opinions.

American Life 9

2011-01-13T14:56:00.016+05:30

Let It Snow…

New York: Since yesterday, the weather service forecast, picked up in the local media, was a blizzard would dump up to 18 inches of snow on the city.

The last time a blizzard struck was over the Christmas holiday and left the city reeling under the devastating impact of more than two feet of the white stuff.

Mayor Michael Bloomberg and his city administration attracted a lot of criticism for the responsiveness of municipal agencies in the crisis.

That’s why, two weeks later, the mayor was upfront in the media, outlining plans to handle the upcoming snowfall. In the event, the blizzard turned out to be a non-story; it was nowhere in magnitude anywhere near the great Christmas whiteout.

Though some of the outlying boroughs like Long Island reported accumulations of up to two feet, Manhattan was spared the savagery.

Even so the mayor was out there, giving citizens a ball-by-ball account of the response by civic agencies early this morning.

He was out there, holding a press conference with his senior officials, urging citizens to lend a hand as the civic crews cleaned up the 8 to twelve inches of snow that fell.

As the day progressed and a sunny cold morning slipped into a cold, blustery and partly cloudy afternoon, the mayor’s efforts were given the thumbs up by citizens and the media.

It was an eye-opener for me; over the past couple of decades as a keen observer of the state of civic services in Delhi, I’ve been severely critical, dismissing all the main agencies as corrupt and inept.

Most of Delhi’s agencies are leaderless because in its wisdom the federal government, which is based there, created an incredibly complex chain of command.

Consequently, the agencies have had pretty much a field day over the past six decades; opaque and incompetent, they created neither civic services nor infrastructure; instead they feathered their own nests, appropriating funds and delivering nothing.

Since 1998, the capital has had a chief minister, a leader with a vision to grow Delhi into world-class city.

Despite the obstructive and corrupt bureaucrats who man the various civic agencies, Chief Minister Sheila Dikshit has managed to deliver significantly in terms of public goods; the mendacity of the city’s bureaucrats can be seen in the shoddy work and corners cut as a way of embezzling public funds.

These thoughts clouded my head as I watched with admiration the huge effort, both before and after the snowfall, by Mayor Bloomberg in New York City.

What’s the difference in the two situations, I asked myself; in the Delhi one, we have morally challenged officials and goal-oriented ones in New York?

The more I think about it though I am convinced that morality and ethics are at the root of the two different approaches of civic agencies in New York and Delhi.

Delhi’s civic authorities seem to treat their jobs as a way to enhance both their social standing and their bank accounts; their counterparts in New York City see their positions as a public trust and work to make things better for the citizens they serve.

It may sound simplistic and naïve but that is the essential difference between two worldviews and is manifest in the incredible difference in standards of civic services and infrastructure between New York and Delhi.

But there’s more to it than just the contrast between the two cities; the issue is about the fundamentally different approach to government in the US and in India.

In India, government has more to do with privilege and perks than public service; it offers the well connected an opportunity to garner position and wealth; in the US, citizens of position and wealth are inducted to public service.

To be sure, just as in India, there is corruption here too in America; difference is that crooked public servants here are by and large brought to book and jailed; in India, usually they go scot free and seek protection from the law by becoming members of Parliament or state assemblies or patients in hospitals.

The noticeable lack of “development” that hits you between the eyes when you land in India is a direct outcome of these two startlingly different views of government: in the US, the government seeks to empower citizens whereas in India, the government actually disenfranchises them.

For instance, over the past few decades, the Indian establishment has talked ceaselessly about “sustainable development” and actually turned it into a weapon against industrialization, urbanization and economic growth.

Meanwhile in recent years, restaurants in major American cities have promoted a “hundred mile menu” that involves sourcing ingredients from within that radius; this simple marketing strategy saw the rapid growth of sustainable farms across the country.

This recent development underlines the fundamental difference in government in the two democracies: between empowerment and disenfranchisement.

It’s a sobering train of thought on the eve of my departure to Delhi, India.

American Life 8

2011-01-10T15:03:00.003+05:30

Obama’s Problem…

Chicago: It’s cold here, bracingly so. The high was minus five Celsius; late at night as I sit jet lagged on the computer, the mercury has dipped to minus 12 Celsius. With the wind chill, it feels like minus 20 Celsius. There’s a light dusting of snow on the ground and the place looks as pretty as a picture postcard. Tonight it’s going to be “four below,” that’s roughly minus 22 without the wind chill factor. **ck it’s cold!

I love the winter in Chicago. It’s a breeze to drive because all the roads are cleared almost instantaneously. On the Eisenhower expressway, the lanes are clear; I tell my friend, who’s driving us to this wonderful French restaurant, Chez Joel on Taylor Street, in the vicinity of the University of Illinois campus, that I’m convinced the city has placed heaters under the carriageway.

The atmosphere is crystal clear. We saw the lights of the city’s fabled skyline with no fog, smog or smoke refraction. It struck me that despite corruption and patronage, a city could be run and be beautiful as few other cities in the world. It is truly a winter wonderland. And the words of the famous Louis Armstrong song buzzed in my head: “What a wonderful world!”

Earlier that morning, I drove to an appointment on Cumberland Avenue, a major drag that connects the near western suburbs to the airport. This was my everyday drive when we moved to Chicago in the 1970s. It’s been almost 30 years since I’ve driven that route that leads from near west suburbs northwest to O’Hare.

When we moved to the city in the 1970s, we decided to stay in the near west suburban area that comprises Oak Park, River Forest and Forest Park. These were the first communities out of the reach of the Chicago City Council and as such were autonomous while retaining the character of the city. They were actually an extension of the city and had no cookie cutter developments or McMansions. River Forest was the wealthy one; Oak Park, affluent and aware; Forest Park, the poor cousin.

My office was about 10 miles northwest, near the fabled O’Hare airport, crossroads of the US, the busiest in the world and also, despite the traffic, the most laid back. To get to 7220 West Higgins, I had to drive up northwest on Cumberland Avenue. It was my drive everyday for two years until I got a job in downtown Chicago on Michigan Avenue.

At noon on January 7, I found myself heading northwest from River Forest, up Thatcher Avenue to Cumberland. I fell into a reverie; it was as if nothing had changed in 30 years. For the record, since I moved to a downtown job some 30 years ago, I just never took the route, using River Road to get to the airport instead. As I drove up Thatcher to the light and turned right on Cumberland, past the Elmwood Park cemetery, the sign was still there: “Drive Carefully, We Can Wait.”

Chicago is a city that changes, always for the better each year; but not Cumberland Avenue. As I drove up the street, I may as well have been driving in the 1970s. Part of the reason is that Cumberland cuts a straight path through protected woods. Just past Fullerton Avenue, you begin to find homes on the east side of the street. They were the same, except for the “For Sale” signs stuck on their postage stamp lawns.

“Foreclosures,” I thought to myself. The neighborhoods that line the northern portions of Cumberland are all blue-collar communities with families whose breadwinners worked in machine shops that dotted the northwest parts of Chicago. The people who live in River Grove, Elmwood Park and Norridge, largely blue-collar neighborhoods that straddle Cumberland Avenue are mostly Polish, Ukrainian and other eastern European immigrants.

While almost everything about Chicago has changed including the city itself and its close suburbs, these Cumberland Avenue communities have remained stagnant and are now declining. It’s almost as though the 21^st century has bypassed them. I can say this with some certainty because I drove through them nearly 30 years ago and now driving through them, I found nothing changed.

In the event, I was jolted back to the present as my host and I drove east on Eisenhower Expressway to the city to dine in this fabulous restaurant. As I tucked into the streak, I thought about the challenges facing America and how to redeploy the work force.

Then I thought to myself: that’s Obama’s problem. He’s from Chicago, albeit from Hyde Park on the south side. He has to fix it. His former chief of staff, Rahm Emmanuel is running for mayor to replace Richard Daley, who has bowed out and whose family has run the Democratic Party in Chicago for nearly 50 years. The mayor’s younger brother William just got appointed White House chief of staff.

For the first time in half a century, there will be no Daley in Chicago’s Democratic Party dominated politics. It’s almost as though the Nehru-Gandhi family had given up control over the Congress Party in India. I contemplate, with some anxiety, the future of Chicago’s politics and its development in the second decade of the 21^st century.

Imagine there’s a Heaven

2011-01-06T15:42:00.007+05:30

It Was Easy Because We Tried

Goa: Think about it for a minute. It’s New Year’s Eve at our house, Imagine. It’s easy if you try. And because we’re dreamers, our daughters and our entire extended family deigned to spend the evening with us. It was about 20 degrees Celsius officially but in the village where we live it was a little colder. Actually, we’ve rarely seen Goa as cold as to need sweaters. Anyway, we let it out and let it in with mirth and merriment; we made our world a little warmer. We shrugged off the cares that were upon our shoulder and sang and danced as though this eve was forever and a day.

We gave little thought that night to the busy years that had gone rushing by us because we still had our starry notions. And spending the end of the first decade of the millennium with the extended family was a treat that all in the world would devoutly wish. Though many who came were friends, the operative thing was they were all family: from New York, London, Zurich, Washington, Bombay, Ahmedabad and of course locally in Goa. It was a global celebration in a village that does not even appear in any map of this haven.

Arriving here on December 29 on an afternoon flight on our favorite IndiGo Airlines, we drove straight home and landed up at our favorite Cavala restaurant and rocked for many hours to the band Abracadabra into the wee hours of the night. There was this little girl Jessica, not even 10 years old, who jived with her father to the old time rock and roll. She was so good, I asked for her autograph, which she shyly wrote on a coaster. I will treasure forever despite the fact I may never see her again.

Tell me: how can you beat this anywhere else in nerve-wracking India? Is it any wonder that I believed it when a guy, who runs a beach shack in Morjim in the northern part of Goa, told me that nearly 250,000 people were expected in Goa on December 31? For the record, the population of Goa is just 1.5 million.

Goa lives and dies on tourism. This year because of the bad weather in Europe (few Americans come), many charter flights were canceled. The slack has been taken up by free-spending Indians. As such, the Goan tourism infrastructure that is geared to low-level European tourists is trying to adjust to domestic tourists, who demand what they can get in Thailand or Malaysia. Local demand will improve infrastructure in Goa. In the end, as in America, domestic demand makes for a more egalitarian economy.

Indian tourists are known worldwide to be big spenders. You now see in Goa the big Indian brands like Fabindia and hotels like Vivanta and Fortune that cater to the new middle class. They are better and more professional than the cramped little resorts that cater to British truck drivers in Calangute or the illegal purple, green and yellow resorts for Russian mafia and drug dealers in Morjim. In the end, the growth of high-end domestic tourism may be the savior of this gorgeous haven. Again for the record, there is no McDonald’s outlet in Goa.

The fear in Goa is that domestic tourists will bring the Indian sickness to their home, spitting paan, urinating in public, driving rashly and recklessly. Also the new thrust of domestic tourism is a more affluent class of tourists. The question remains: are hippies and backpackers, dubious Israelis and Russians better than high-end Indians from Delhi, Bombay and Bangalore?

Meanwhile, as I sit in my verandah outside my bedroom in our house, annoyed at the buzz of crickets and cicadas late at night, I realize it is all an academic wonder for now. These problems are all about the beaches and the “happening” strips. I’m happy to stay in my house and imagine ours is a haven; to be with family is very heaven.

Love, indeed, is all you need. And the love of family and friends is a treasure.

An Ill Wind

2010-12-03T15:47:00.008+05:30

By Rajiv Desai

This article appeared in Chicago Tribune, 24 years ago (November 30, 1986). It was the cover story in the paper's Sunday magazine.

It was a cold, clear night in Bhopal on Dec. 2, 1984. At the Union Carbide India Ltd. pesticide plant, the night shift had just begun. It was around 11:30 p.m. Soon, a catastrophe would strike and sear the name of this central Indian city into the world's consciousness.

The plant stands on a 100-acre lot in the northeastern part of the city. In the central area of the plant was the unit that produced methyl isocyanate (MIC), a toxic and volatile chemical used in the manufacture of a line of pesticides patented by Union Carbide Corp., the parent company, headquartered in Danbury, Conn.

Near the MIC unit were three huge storage tanks where the liquid methyl isocyanate was stored. From tank No. 610, the one closest to the unit, came the hissing sound of gas escaping under pressure. A white cloud formed and began to drift in a southeasterly direction toward the Bhopal railway station and a cluster of shantytowns surrounding the plant.

Somehow, water had entered the storage tank that contained anywhere from 11,000 to 13,000 gallons of MIC. A chemical reaction ensued, turning the MIC into gas.

The gas was vented through a safety valve to a scrubber that should have neutralized it as it escaped. But the intense heat and pressure generated by the gas overwhelmed the scrubber.

Another safety device, a flare tower designed to burn off escaping gas, might have helped even though it didn't have the capacity to handle the intense pressure, but it didn't because it had been dismantled for repairs.

Unchecked, the deadly gas swirled out of the tank and into the night.

By the time it was all over, more than 2,500 people had died and about 518,000 more were made ill, according to government figures. The gas leak at the Union Carbide plant was the worst industrial disaster in history.

Nearly two years later, S. P. Chaudhary, production manager at the Bhopal plant, stands at the plant's northern edge and surveys the weed-choked grounds.

"We had prize-winning landscaping here," he says, "the best roses, the lushest lawns. Now look at the waste."

In the distance looms an industrial complex of tanks, towers, pipes and sheds. "That's the MIC unit," he says, expressionlessly.

Other, more agonizing effects still linger. You can see them in the lines of people outside the numerous makeshift medical centers, in the anger of the workers idled by the disaster, on the expressionless faces of the victims, in the controversies surrounding the event and its aftermath.

As the Indian Airlines jet swoops low on its final descent into Bhopal, a big, beautiful lake comes into view. Ringed by lush green hills, it shimmers in the early morning sun. Bhopal is a city of 900,000 people crowded around the lake's northern, eastern and southern shores. It is the capital of the state of Madhya Pradesh, a stretch of Kipling country noted for its forests and wildlife, ravines and forts, princes and brigands.

Bhopal used to be the seat of a Muslim kingdom that was integrated into the union of states when India won its independence from British colonial rule in 1947. The city boasts imposing edifices from that regal past--a mosque that claims to be the largest in Asia, a palace and a huge, elaborately carved city gate--all rising from intricate lanes, crowded streets and tightly packed traditional row houses.

During the 1950s Bhopal, along with most of the state of Madhya Pradesh, was classified as an underdeveloped area and marked for special attention by the federal government in New Delhi. A huge "public-sector" enterprise (one owned and operated by the federal government) called Bharat Heavy Electricials Ltd. (BHEL) was set up near Bhopal. In nearby Jabalpur the government put up a major armaments factory.

In the 1960s the private sector was offered special inducements to locate manufacturing plants in the region. Attracted by the newly established industries, professionals came from all over India. Bhopal emerged as a major regional center, its population growing by 75 percent to about 500,000 between 1961 and 1971.

As the city prospered, arts and culture flourished. Recognizing the new importance of Bhopal, the federal government funded the construction of a complex to house art galleries, museums, theaters, a poetry center and a library. Called Bharat Bhavan, the complex is a low-slung building set around wide courtyards. It nestles on a hillside in the exclusive Shamla Hills section noted for its flower-bedecked gardens and panoramic views in the southern part of the city.

Union Carbide India Ltd. (UCIL) was one of a number of companies that took advantage of government inducements to set up shop in Bhopal. Among the incentives it received from the Madhya Pradesh state government was a long- term, low-cost lease on a plot of public land.

The UCIL plant is in the northeastern quadrant of the city. It was built in 1969 as a formulation factory for Union Carbide's Sevin brand of pesticides. A product popular with cotton and tobacco farmers, Sevin is an insecticide that kills pests by paralyzing their nervous systems.

"We began by importing Sevin Technical (a chemical concentrate) and formulating (diluting) it into the commercial product," says Chaudhary.

An articulate chemical engineer in his 40s, Chaudhary has been at the plant since it opened. He explains that Sevin Technical was a patented product made by reacting methyl isocyanate (MIC) and alpha-naphthol. The highly toxic concentrate was then diluted with other chemicals to make commercial Sevin for the agricultural market.

In 1973 Union Carbide Corp.'s management committee in the United States approved a capital expenditure of $20 million to expand operations at its Bhopal affiliate. As a first step, the Bhopal plant began to produce Sevin Technical, using imported MIC and alpha-naphthol.

Two years later the company began what Chaudhary called a "backward integration" of its operations. Instead of importing the ingredients needed to produce Sevin Technical, the goal was to manufacture them at the Bhopal site. In 1978 the company set up a unit to produce alpha-naphthol, and a year later the MIC unit was added.

The expansion at UCIL took place at a time when the Indian federal government's campaign to boost agricultural production began to bear fruit. Increased use of fertilizers and irrigation, the introduction of dry-farming techniques and hybrid crops, and a massive agricultural research and education program ushered in a "green revolution" that eventually transformed the country's agriculture.

By the end of the 1970s India achieved self-sufficiency in food production. This major agricultural success created new demands for a whole range of agricultural products, including pesticides.

With the added capacity, Union Carbide's Bhopal plant was then able to produce different pesticides for different segments of the expanding Indian market.

Underlying the increase in the size and scope of the plant was a corporate forecast that sales of its pesticide products would reach 5,000 tons a year by 1982. Sales peaked that year at 2,200 tons, an amount that fell considerably short of the projected figures.

At that production level the Bhopal plant worked at less than 50 percent of capacity, and by 1982 the plant began to lose money.

"Our projections were wrong," Chaudhary admits. It's not clear who made the calculations, but the parent company in Danbury put its imprimatur on the forecast in its 1978 annual report, noting that "pesticide use should grow steadily--particularly in the developing countries, where growth is forecast to be almost twice that in the United States."

Furthermore, while the Bhopal plant was increasing but underusing its capacity, many chemical manufacturers were producing new pesticides called synthetic pyrethroids that began to outsell MIC-based products on the world markets.

The Bhopal plant then took economy measures, laying off nearly half of its workforce of 1,300 and, among other steps, turned off, to save power costs, the refrigeration system that was supposed to keep within safe levels the temperature of the MIC in the plant's storage tanks.

The company's cost-cutting drive began to hurt morale at the plant. Many of its experienced supervisory workers left. At the shop-floor level, less- skilled workers from other units in the plant were transferred to the complex MIC unit. Workers complained to management about corroded pipes and other equipment-maintenance problems\

"We had to cut corners," says B. P. Srivastava, head of the Union Carbide research and development section in Bhopal.

On Christmas Eve, 1981, Ashraf Khan, a pipefitter in the factory's MIC unit, died of respiratory problems after he breathed fumes released by a spill of phosgene (the key ingredient in MIC). There had been other accidents before at the plant, but this was the first fatality, and for the first time people began to realize that the factory might be a public health hazard.

Opposition lawmakers raised the issue in the state assembly. Their clamor culminated in a 1983 motion that urged the state government to force the company to relocate to a less-populated area. But the government, which enjoyed a huge majority in the house, successfully resisted the demand.

"The factory is not a stone that can be picked up and moved wherever we please," the state labor minister, T. S. Viyogi, told the state assembly

The government was caught in a bind. It did not want to make the plant relocate to a safer location, and neither did it want to force the people living in the nearby shantytowns to move away from the plant area. In fact, the state government later in 1983 ceded tenancy rights to the residents of those shantytowns, which, long before the plant was built, had spread illegally on the government land surrounding it.

So the plant stayed, as did the people living around it. "Bhopal was a disaster waiting to happen," says N. K. Singh, a journalist who has followed the Bhopal disaster for India Today, one of that nation's leading news magazines.

On Dec. 2, 1984, the disaster struck. When the MIC gas, odorless and highly toxic, enveloped the shantytowns, people died in their sleep or dropped dead as they ran in terror on the streets. The people of Bhopal didn't know what hit them. "There was no community warning system," says production manager Chaudhary.

Among the hundreds of thousands of people affected by the gas leak were Syed Ashik Ali, 50, and his extended family. On the night of the disaster the 14 members of the family slept in a little hut in the Kazi Camp shantytown just south of the Union Carbide plant.

"I woke up in fright, choking and coughing. My chest was burning, my eyes began to water profusely," Ashik Ali recalls. Thinking that neighbors were "burning dry chilis," he went outside, he says, but saw nothing. "The burning in my chest had become intolerable, and my eyes had almost closed up," he adds. "So I sent one of my sons to the main road to investigate."

After what seemed like ages to Ashik Ali and when he was about ready, he says, to kill himself because of the pain, his son returned to tell of the panic in the streets. "People were running helter-skelter, shouting that some poisonous gas had leaked from the Union Carbide factory," the son remembers telling his family.

Not knowing what else to do, the family chose to huddle together in the hut. "I decided that we should all die together," Ashik Ali says.

Meanwhile, Fazlur Rahman, a brother-in-law with whom Ashik Ali shared the hut, had also ventured out. "When I heard that gas had leaked from the factory, I went to my friend Salim Ali, who used to work there. He told me to cover my face with a wet cloth," Rahman says.

When Rahman returned, he found members of the two families gathered together in the hut. Two of his daughters lay on the floor covered with sheets under which they had huddled in fright. "I thought they were dead," he says, pointing to his daughters Sabina and Sahana, now 11 and 10 respectively.

"The next morning my brother came with the bus that he drives for a living, loaded us all into it and drove us to the hospital," Rahman adds, recalling that most of the children in the family had passed out along with Ashik Ali.

Another survivor that night was Santosh Singh Thakur, 26, a worker at the Union Carbide canteen who lived in Chola, a shantytown east of the plant. "I covered by face with a wet cloth and ran to my house," he says.

He lived, but lost his job when the plant was closed down seven months after the disaster. Currently unemployed, Thakur does volunteer work at a medical center in his community. He feels that the state government bears the responsibility for the disaster because it allowed the company to set up the plant near a populated area.

Ashok Kumar Rana, 20, a graduate student at Bhopal University, was overcome by the gas. "My eyes remained closed for four days, and I still have difficulty breathing. I had to drop out of school because I couldn't concentrate on my books," he says. He had hoped to become a police inspector, but "the gas leak ruined everything." Rana also is a volunteer at the community health center in Chola.

Narbada Prasad, 35, was unemployed at the time of the disaster. He was returning from a friend's place when he heard about the leak. Rushing home, he found only his 6-year-old son. "I grabbed him and ran to the bus stop, hoping to get out of town. But the gas got to me by the time I reached the bus stop, and I fainted," he recalls with a shudder.

None of these survivors have total recall of that night. Their stories leave many questions unanswered, but they refuse to be pinned down to specifics. It was a night in which the raw instinct of survival prevailed over all other human demands.

"It was so bad that my neighbor abandoned her 7-month-old baby in a mad scramble to escape the pain," Fazlur Rahman says. "Likewise, many youths left their elderly parents behind."

"About 30 percent of those affected by the gas leak were children," says pediatrician Ashwini Syal of Bhopal's Hamidia Hospital. The hospital's pediatric ward normally admits 6,000 patients a year; in the days following the disaster the ward treated many times that number. "We were too busy coping to keep (complete) records," Syal adds.

Trying to explain the dimensions of the disaster, Syal falls back on his own experience. "As a medical doctor, I have seen people die, but this was awesome--almost a year's quota in a few days," he says.

Syal was called to the hospital in the early morning hours of Dec. 3. By then the initial trickle of victims seeking aid had become a flood. "They came in every conceivable mode of transport, and they kept coming in larger numbers," he recalls. The hospital was forced to call in 750 medical students along with doctors from other private hospitals in the area to handle the emergency.

Syal had learned from the attending physician in the emergency ward that the victims had been affected by a poisonous gas emanating from the Union Carbide plant. No more information was available.

"Initially, we examined the victims mainly to determine if they were dead or alive," he says, seated in the spartan doctor's lounge of the hospital's pediatric unit.

Syal and his colleagues found that most people suffered from burning eyes, breathing difficulties and hyperacidity. Working without information about MIC or its effects on humans, they could only treat the symptoms, not their underlying causes.

"We treated the victims with eye drops and bronchial dilators used on asthma patients. It was clear that even the Union Carbide people knew very little about MIC gas," he adds.

Meanwhile, a controversy developed over the treatment of victims. A Bhopal physician who conducted autopsies on the victims said he had found evidence of cyanide poisoning and recommended the use of sodium thiosulfate as an antidote. But Union Carbide disputed the doctor's findings, saying that MIC had no links with cyanide.

Citing the company's internal memos, critics later said that at high temperatures, MIC breaks down into hydrogen cyanide and challenged the company's rejection of the the cyanide-poisoning claims as an attempt to play down the toxic effects of MIC.

Dr. Yves Alarie, a toxicologist atthe University of Pittsburgh's Department of Industrial and Environmental Health Sciences and an expert on MIC and its toxic effects who has followed the Bhopal disaster, says that his tests showed no cyanide release in Bhopal. He notes that autopsy reports bore no record of the bitter-almond smell associated with cyanide. In any case, he adds, MIC gas is even more toxic than cyanide and by itself accounts for the fatalities and illnesses resulting from the leak.

Thanks largely to the efforts of people like Syal, the victims received the best care possible under the circumstances. In fact, many Western health experts later observed that they could not have done any better even if they had had more-advanced and better-organized facilities.

The medical response also included research studies on the long-term effects of MIC. One such study, funded by the Indian Council of Medical Research (ICMR), targeted infants born to victims who were pregnant at the time of the disaster. The goal was to see how these infants' mental and physical growth might have been affected by the gas leak.

The ICMR researchers surveyed a selected population of about 85,000 people, of whom 2,500 were pregnant women. The staff of 40 field workers visited the women monthly, and then weekly during the final month of their pregnancies. A thousand of these women were defined as "at risk" because they were in the early stages of pregnancy--20 weeks or less--when the gas leak occurred.

"In this group we found a significant increase in (spontaneous) abortions and stillbirths," says Syal, who is one of the researchers.

As a continuation of the project, researchers are now charting the growth of the "MIC-gas babies" every six months. "We find no evidence of congenital abnormalities," says Syal. "However, there's been a major increase in neurotic symptoms among these children--nightmares, sleeplessness, fatigue, lack of concentration, irritability and so on."

The ICMR study has focused attention on the children of India, where nearly 40 percent of the population is under age 15. In a culture that dismisses youth and reveres age, this segment of India's population is possibly the most neglected and oppressed.

Perhaps the most important aspect of the ICMR study is that it has made the country aware that its poor also have psychological needs. Indian mental- health professionals have an essentially middle-class bias. The assumption is that the poor are too busy keeping body and soul together to experience psychological problems.

For victims like Ashik Ali, whose income is less than $40 a month, the biggest concern is getting government relief payments. However, he has had to reckon with the state government bureaucracy, which is in charge of distributing relief funds from the federal government. Ashik Ali claims that he is entitled to an extra share of the $120-per-family government relief payment, arguing that there are really two families under his roof, his and that of his brother-in-law Fazlur Rahman. The bureaucracy did register the two families, but only Rahman has received the payment.

"I've talked to dozens of people. Everybody says they will do something, but so far nothing has happened," says Ashik Ali in a tired voice.

The relief payment is important to Ashik Ali, perhaps more for psychological than financial reasons, though the disaster showed how fragile his economic base was. Without medical help and the relief money, he and his family would have suffered even more.

The two families are hoping that there will be a settlement in their favor in a lawsuit against Union Carbide. Ashik Ali remembers being visited by an American lawyer accompanied by a local agent. He has a statement issued by the lawyer's U.S. firm and by Masand Mirza, a lawyer with the Bhopal Legal Action Center. The slip of paper registered him as a plaintiff in a class- action suit the American law firm said it would file against Union Carbide in the United States. It stipulated that the law firm would receive 33 percent of any settlement and would be reimbursed for all costs incurred. "The American told us we were entitled to damages of about $8, 000," Ashik Ali says.

But Ashik Ali is fast losing hope that he'll ever collect anything from that lawsuit. "That kind of money is beyond our wildest dreams," he says with an air of resignation. "However, the disaster awakened greed in me. In our lives, there's no room for greed. We have to share the little we have."

Fazlur Rahman, on the other hand, takes a hard-nosed view. "It's understandable that the (Madhya Pradesh state) government couldn't cope with the disaster," he says. "But since Union Carbide is an American company, what is the American government doing to make the company pay its dues? How would it have reacted if the same thing had happened in America?"

In addition to making relief payments, the Indian government has funded several rehabilitation projects to help families of workers who lost their means of livelihood in the disaster. One such project is located in a cluster of industrial sheds near the Jaiprakash Nagar shantytown east of the plant. Inside the sheds are rows and rows of women working at sewing machines. They are making clothes to be sold in local markets. The project is funded by the state's industries department.

The project's administrator is Ram Karan Yadav, 29, a mechanical engineer and the general secretary of the Union Carbide Karmachani Sangh (workers' union) who worked at the MIC unit in the Bhopal plant. He now works as a factory inspector for the state government.

When Union Carbide announced its decision to close the Bhopal plant after the disaster, Yadav emerged as a major spokesman for the union, leading protests that called upon the government to keep the plant open and challenging the company's decision in court. The court battle kept the plant technically open--and the workers on its payroll--for three more months.

When the state government finally allowed the plant to close in July, 1985, UCIL, after negotiations with Yadav and the union, gave each worker a lump sum of $800 as severance payment (about 6 months' pay).

Yadav today would like to see the government reopen the plant and use its facilities to manufacture a safe product.

Yadav is currently attempting to refute a claim by Union Carbide that the disaster of last December was a case of sabotage by a worker at the Bhopal plant. Last August the company released a statement that said: "Our investigations demonstrate that the tragedy was a deliberate act. Those investigations are now focusing on a specific individual employee of the Bhopal plant who was disgruntled and who had ample opportunity to inject the large amount of water into the (MIC) storage tank, which caused the massive gas release."

Union Carbide's charge is based on evidence drawn from the plant's daily notes, which were written by the supervisor of the MIC unit for the production manager. An entry on Nov. 27, five days before the disaster, shows that a worker was transferred from the MIC unit to the Sevin formulation unit. The company claims that this was, in effect, a demotion, and it contends that that individual was the disgruntled employee who entered the plant that night to perpetrate the sabotage. The motive, according to the company, was to get even with the supervisor for his demotion by spoiling a batch of chemicals. The statement adds that the disgruntled employee had no idea that his act would result in such a disaster.

Yadav disputes the company's findings. "I checked the notes myself," he says, "and there's no demotion mentioned. In fact, the company couldn't have demoted anyone without consulting the union." As for the company's position that the alleged saboteur didn't realize the full consequences of his action, Yadav says, "All MIC workers were college graduates and trained for their jobs."

But Union Carbide is standing by its charge of sabotage. Bud Holman, a New York lawyer representing the company, says that Union Carbide is convinced that the water that got into the MIC storage tank on the night of the disaster was deliberately put into the tank.

Yadav, on the other hand, claims that it would have been impossible for the alleged saboteur to do all the things that Union Carbide says he did from the time, at exactly 10:33, that he punched in for work that night until the time--about 11, Yadav claims; 11:30, according to most other accounts--that the gas leak was first discovered.

Examining the Union Carbide claim of sabotage, India Today last October was told by a Bhopal plant worker that the water pipe involved in the charge was half an inch in diameter and that it would have taken at least 45 minutes for the ton of water that entered the tank to pass through that pipe.

India Today also quoted a 1985 report by Union Carbide that said that the temperature of the MIC in storage tank No. 610 was between 15 and 20 degrees Celsius (59 and 68 degrees Fahrenheit) and noted, "The company's MIC manual says that at this temperature MIC would take at least 23 hours to react if water was added to it."

Union Carbide officials in Bhopal back up the company's charges. "There was no other way for water to enter the tank. We've eliminated the possibility that an operational mistake caused the gas leak. That leaves only sabotage," says production manager Choudhary.

Union Carbide has not named the suspect. But Yadav says the company will charge Mohan Lal Verma, a 28-year-old worker who was a trainee in the plant's MIC unit, as the saboteur.

Deep in the crowded old quarter of Bhopal, Mohan Lal Verma reclines on a bed in the two-room apartment he shares with his brothers as he tells a visitor that he is not afraid of the charges that Union Carbide plans to make against him. "I have the support of the union as well as of the government," he says. His demeanor, however, is that of an obviously upset man. "I'm fed up with the whole thing," he says.

Verma joined UCIL in 1977 as an operator in the plant's alpha-naphthol unit. In November, 1982, when that unit was closed, Verma was reassigned as a trainee in the MIC unit, a much more sophisticated and complex operation where workers, depending on their experience, were paid more than the average wage of about $100 a month.

Verma, who held a postgraduate degree in mathematics (earned while he worked for Union Carbide in hopes of advancing to a managerial position), says the new assignment was a step forward. His training at the MIC unit was to have been completed in February, 1984, at which point he would have been classified as a "confirmed MIC plant operator." Instead, he remained a trainee until the disaster occurred in December, 1984.

Frustrated by the apparent lack of progress, Verma protested to his supervisor at the MIC unit. Eventually, he asked the union to take up his case. "It was sheer mental torture," he says.

Verma says he had heard rumors in the days before the disaster that he was to be transferred to the Sevin unit as punishment for his protest. "But I was never officially notified," he adds.

On the night of the disaster Verma punched in 12 minutes before the 10:45 start of the night shift. He then went to his locker, he says, changed into work clothes and reported for duty at the control room at the MIC unit. Verma claims he remained there until the gas leak was detected and that he left when the gas began to affect him.

Early on, Indian government investigators reported that water entered the tank when, during the earlier shift, a worker was ordered to wash out a pipe leading to the tank. Because the pipe, according to the investigators, had a faulty valve and thus was not properly sealed, water began to flow into the tank, contaminating the MIC inside and causing the runaway chemical reaction that led eventually to the massive gas release. The report adds that the supervisor who ordered the action was inexperienced and had arrived just two months before as a transferee from the company's Eveready battery division in Calcutta.

According to Holman, this "water-washing" theory of the Indian government was rejected by its own experts. He claims that the company has several witnesses who will testify that experiments conducted by government investigators, who traced the path of the water through the pipe, found that it could not have reached the tank that way.

"We remain convinced that water entered the tank when an employee removed the pressure indicator and hooked up the hose to the tank through the utility panel (on which the gauge was located). In fact, when another employee went to check on the source of the leak, he saw the hose with water running down its side and disconnected it. He then ran away, fearing that he would be implicated."

Union Carbide first raised the possibility of sabotage in March, 1985. At a press conference called to announce the findings of the company's initial investigation, Warren Anderson, the chairman of Union Carbide, rejected the Indian government's "water-washing" theory, saying that the company had not yet determined how the water entered the storage tank. He then told reporters that a disgruntled employee might have deliberately connected a water line to the tank.

Five months later, company lawyers submitted a clipping of a newspaper story to a U.S. federal judge who was conducting court hearings in New York. Based on a wire-service account, the story said that a group of Sikh extremists known as "Black June" had claimed responsibility for the Bhopal disaster. ("Black June" refers to June, 1984, when units of the Indian army entered the Sikhs' revered Golden Temple to flush out terrorists.)

According to India Today, the company had earlier tried to lay the responsibility on a Sikh employee, who had been dismissed along with several dozen other company officials after the leak. In doing so, India Today said, it had apparently forgotten that the man had stood surety, or bail, for Anderson when the company chairman traveled to Bhopal after the disaster and upon his arrival was placed under house arrest along with Bhopal managing director V. P. Gokhale and other senior UCIL officials. When the man threatened to withdraw the bail, the newsmagazine said, the company both withdrew the charge of sabotage and gave him a new position at its Luknow plant.

Many Indians see the company's claim of sabotage as a tactic to delay the court case against it. "The idea is to reduce liability," says Yadav.

Another, hotly contested issue centers on which Union Carbide unit should bear the legal responsibility for the gas leak. The parent company has maintained that its affiliate was to blame because its local executives had primary management responsibility for the plant.

The parent company, however, is the affiliate's single largest shareholder. Officials from its corporate headquarters in Danbury and from its Far East division (Union Carbide Eastern Inc.) held the majority on the Indian company's board. "All the major decisions were made in Danbury," says a Union Carbide India employee.

A similar assertion was made a few months after the disaster by Edward Munoz, a retired Union Carbide official who had served as chief executive of the Indian affiliate until 1976, when he returned to the U.S. to head the agricultural products division in Danbury.

Under Indian law, foreign companies can own no more than 40 percent equity in any Indian venture, but certain exceptions are made in the high- technology area. On this basis Union Carbide, as a high-technology company, was granted permission to retain an interest of nearly 51 percent in its Bhopal affiliate.

"Fifty-one-percent holding means you own the responsibility," says B. P. Srivastava, the Bhopal Company’s manager of research and development.

Meanwhile, the parent company continues to distance itself from its afflicted Indian affiliate. "Being the largest stockholder didn't mean anything," says Holman. "The company needed government approval for everything. The affiliate had Indian employees and Indian managers. Even the Indian government recognized it as a separate company, distinct from Union Carbide Corp."

The parent company's attempts to let its affiliate shoulder the blame for the disaster have affected its local employees. Pushed to comment on the subject, the company's Srivastava says, "It offends my pride as an Indian." Another senior manager with line responsibility in Bhopal says, "I understand the need to assess blame, but it does hurt."

Last Sept. 5 the Indian government filed for damages against Union Carbide Corp. in the Bhopal district court. At that time Indian news agencies reported that Union Carbide "failed to appear at the hearing."

Holman explains that the company was not properly served with a summons for that hearing. "We received the summons only in mid-October because it was sent to the company at its old address at 270 Park Ave., in New York City. Everyone knows that Union Carbide has been in Danbury, Conn., for years," Holman says. Union Carbide then appeared in court Oct. 30.

The damage suit was initially brought before a federal court in New York, which agreed with the company's argument that India was the proper forum for the case. But in transferring the case, Judge John F. Keenan ruled that the American-based parent company, not just its Indian affiliate, could also be held accountable by the Indian court.

The judge also ruled that the company must submit to U.S. federal pretrial discovery procedures in India. Union Carbide has appealed that ruling, contending that it, too, should be entitled to subject the Indian government as plaintiff to the the same U.S.-style discovery procedures in India. The move was promptly challenged by the Indian government.

In a "cross appeal," the Indian government said that under Keenan's ruling, the company got what it wanted--to transfer the case to Indian jurisdiction.

"If Union Carbide was more concerned with gaining discovery under U.S. federal rules, it could have chosen to remain in the United States, where there was no question of the general applicability of the (U.S.) federal rules to all parties," the government's brief noted. A ruling on the Union Carbide appeal has been scheduled for late November.

Meanwhile, the Bhopal court has refused to hear the suit filed by American lawyers on behalf of individual victims whom they had signed up as parties to a class-action suit against Union Carbide. These lawyers had sought a "fairness hearing," presumably to ask the Indian court to accept a $350-million settlement offered to them by Union Carbide in March of this year. But the Indian government has already successfully argued before Judge Keenan in New York that any settlement would be invalid without its participation. The Indian government, under legislation enacted by parliament after the disaster, has claimed for itself the sole right to represent the 518,000 victims of the gas leak.

While all the legal bickering goes on, R&D manager B. P. Srivastava worries about the fate of the plush Union Carbide research center in Bhopal's Shamla Hills section. "It's the only one of its kind in the country," he says. He thinks that the government might convert it to a national laboratory because of the fundamental work it does in the field of pesticides.

"We are involved in the discovery of new chemicals and the development of manufacturing processes for chemicals that are currently imported," he says. Srivastava would dearly like to see the Indian government and Union Carbide resolve their differences. "The disaster has demoralized my staff. As a result, scientific work here is suffering," he adds.

Across town, in a residential project built by the Madhya Pradesh state housing authority, union leader Yadav nurtures an ambition to run for a seat in the state assembly. "The Bhopal disaster gave me the opportunity to step out into public life, and I hope to run for public office as an independent," he says.

Already sounding like a candidate, Yadav says that Union Carbide's "demonstrated lack of compassion will hurt the interests of other American multinational firms in India. We were the company's edge in competitive world markets. In trying to pin the blame on us, the company is cutting off its nose to spite its face."

In New Delhi, Shiv Visvanathan, a social scientist at the Center for the Study of Developing Societies, feels that the gas-leak disaster in Bhopal is a ringing indictment of development priorities in Third World countries, which are dominated by a predilection for imported technology without the concomitant infrastructure to assess and manage such technologies.

"When the gas leak occurred two years ago in Bhopal, the government did not have the will or the wherewithal to deal with the tragedy," Visvanathan says. "As a result, it did what it knew best. It bureaucratized the catastrophe into reports, certificates, files and serial numbers. Thus, the disaster, which appeared apocalyptic to the people of Bhopal, was spread over a conceptual assembly line and broken down into a series of routine and humdrum acts," he adds.

From Basheer Khan, 26, a Bhopal taxi driver, comes perhaps the most pragmatic assessment of the disaster. "True, the gas leak was a tragedy," he says. "But it also had a silver lining for people like me and for the local hotel industry. We've had more foreigners come here in the past two years than at any other time that I can remember."

Steering his cab skilfully through Bhopal's narrow streets, he adds, "Things haven't changed much since the gas leak; people have gone back to living their own lives. In India, we have learned to take disaster in stride."

American Life 7

2010-11-27T13:24:00.009+05:30

The Media Wedding

N 42° 19.241 W 071° 03.438.

Those are the GPS co-ordinates of the Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta Church in Boston’s historic Dorchester district, a working class neighborhood which the locals call “Dot.” Thing about Dot is that is this is the district where Boston Police have paid special attention with a view to combating crime. Among other initiatives, they have implemented a project called CAT, combating auto theft. Dot is not exactly on the tourist map but the church is lovely, well worth a visit. It has the first sculpture I’ve ever seen of Mother Theresa.

We were at the church on November 6 to celebrate the wedding of my favorite guy, my nephew Nikhil, a member of the Pereira family into which I married many years ago. The reason why the ceremony was held there, I think, is because Mother Theresa visited the Pereira home in Ahmedabad, India in 1983, when I was a mere child of a few…never mind! Just let’s say I was younger then than the groom, in his wedding regalia in 2010.

At that hallowed venue, Nikhil pledged his troth to Jillian, whose Sherlock family is like the Pereiras, large and fun loving. Slightly hung over from the party the previous evening, we filed into the church and took our appointed places. As the ceremony proceeded, I couldn’t help but marvel at the idea of a Goan-Irish wedding. Nikhil is Goan and Jillian comes from strong Irish stock. And it clicked as it did naturally; Goa stands in the same relationship to India as Ireland does to mainland Britain: similar culture, different lifestyles.

India usurped Goa from the Portuguese in 1961 without much fuss; Britain could only hold the northern part of Ireland and still faces problems. But the Sherlocks are from the Jersey shore; they’re as American as apple pie. Our family, which includes my wife, the sister of Nikhil’s dad, and our daughters, well-known fun lovers, certainly understands how to melt into the American pot. We lived in Chicago, where the Irish have held sway for decades; we even dye our river green, drink green beer and march in an embarassing parade on St Paddy’s Day.

So there we were at the church, absorbed in the solemn ceremony that affirmed the Nik and Jill union. There was no choir but a priest, who sang in the voice divine. (Didn’t get your name, reverend, but if you ever give up your day job, you could be on the opera circuit.) It was all too beautiful, as the anthem to getting high sang in the sixties. Mind you, nobody, as far I could tell, had done spliffs; but then what do I know!

Not to digress …so the ceremony came to an end and I walked out the church door, there to be confronted by a battery of television crews, still photographers, reporters, cops and a general array of bystanders.

“Huh!” I said to myself. “I never notified the media. But how cool is this!” For the record, I run a public relations business and write columns for newspapers and magazines and Res Gestae, my blog, from whence this comes to you.

Anyway, so there I was, confronted by all the television cameras and what have you. My first instinct, honed from years in the media business, was to go up to them and say, “At this time, we have no comment.”

Actually, I didn’t say that because I had no idea what was going on until someone told me that a crazed psycho, brandishing a gun, had hijacked the bridesmaids’ limo. (So much for the Boston Police’s anti-auto theft program CAT.) For all my training as a journalist and my standing as veteran public relations professional, all I could say was: “Say what? Really, really, really?” So much for smooth articulation!

Crisis communications is for what I charge clients substantial sums of money; I train them to respond with gravitas and assuredness. And “Say what? Really, really, really?” is not among the responses I recommend. Also not “Jeez!” Or “What the **ck!” (That’s “heck.” Don’t want this piece to be “Banned in Boston.”)

The wedding made all the channels on the evening news and featured in all the major newspapers in Boston the next day; it even made the Daily Mail in London and, I’m told, the Guatemala media. I googled it to see if my smooth and suave response was quoted; mercifully the media had not picked up on my insightful comments.

“Phew!”

American Life 6

2010-11-20T02:51:00.012+05:30

All in the Family

Her email was cryptic. “We are going to bring in my sister's birthday at the Hearth restaurant in the East Village on November 2 and then observe the occasion on November 3 at En Japanese Brasserie in the West Village,” my younger daughter wrote. We read her message as we packed our bags to take an ungodly hour flight to New York from Delhi.

Our older daughter's birthday was a seminal rite of passage and her younger sister had chosen the restaurants with care. Our entire family including two daughters, our son-in-law, my wife and I were in the city in a rare togetherness. Several of my daughters’ friends also joined the party; to say the very least, the two events were hugely fun.

The Hearth is a special place because its executive chef Marco Canora describes the offering as “food rooted in the modern American kitchen with influences of our Italian heritage.” A celebrated chef, who has appeared on major television shows, Canora offers an “unpretentious, seasonally inspired” menu, not to mention a dry Martini that elevates the soul. All his ingredients are sourced from within a 150 miles of the city, from upstate New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania.

My veal was from Lebanon County, the heart of Pennsylvania’s Dutch region; it was “vegetarian fed with no hormones, no antibiotics and no animal products.” Best of all, it tasted great: mellow, creamy and delicately flavorful. Washed down with a red wine from nearby Long Island, it made for a perfect meal. What a super way to bring in a seminal birthday. It is a measure of the contwixted ties between India and America that our family celebration was in New City’s fabulous Lower East Side. Both countries are intimately bound by family ties that soar above diplomacy and geopolitics.

After dinner, we parted as the young people chose to hit the bars that light up the Lower East Side; my wife and I repaired to a quiet restaurant to listen to live Jazz over an after dinner drink. And we both left the thing unsaid, how fortunate to have a family celebration in the city that never sleeps. “I’m glad be part of it, New York, New York,” the edited refrain from the famous song kept buzzing in my head.

Next day at the Japanese brasserie was just as much fun. The restaurant features comfort food served in “Izakayas,” neighborhood pubs. But En is hardly a local diner. Housed in what was once an industrial warehouse, it a huge cavernous place where Japanese chefs have elevated simple food into a Michelin type dining experience.

Not being a huge fan of Japanese food, I sought safety in the crispy friend chicken that was totally excellent but my younger brat dissed on my “Kentucky fried chicken” and insisted I taste her pork belly dish; others plied me with helpings from the clay rice pot with salmon roe. OMG, I said to my daughters and the young people assembled there, this is fab, using my sixties idiom as a counter to their 21st century texting language.

And so we ate and talked and drank sake into the wee hours (11 pm not 3 am). For dessert, we shared some sort of an ice cream and also a cheesecake that I relished until I realized it was tofu and was forced to take a huge gulp from Siddharth's sake shot. My wife looked at me; she didn’t have to say a word for me to know she was saying, “Any excuse for booze!” But it’s Japanese, I told her, “That’s got to count for something!”

As we walked back to our hotel, my mind strayed to my seminal birthday many years ago. We had just closed on a condo in a 100-year-old building in Oak Park, a suburb that abuts Chicago’s West Side. It was indeed a happy birthday for me as we had dinner with friends and talked excitedly of our new home. A year later, our first daughter was born and the joy was unbounded. In New York on November 3 2010, our pleasure stretched from sea to shining sea. To be together as a family in the southern tip of Manhattan is a happiness that soars as high as the Empire State Building.

How lucky can you get!