The
recent political shenanigans in New Delhi have confirmed once again what some of
us have been arguing for some time: that the parliamentary system we borrowed
from the British has become, in Indian conditions, nothing but a recipe for
governmental instability. And instability is precisely what India, with its
critical economic and social challenges, cannot afford. We must have a system of
government whose leaders can focus on governance rather on staying in
power.
Once again there is talk
of a new election sooner or later. But quite apart from the horrendous costs,
can we, as a country, afford to keep expecting elections to provide miraculous
results when we know that they are all but certain to produce inconclusive
outcomes and more coalition governments? Isn’t it time we realised the
problem is with the system
itself?
Pluralist democracy is
our greatest strength, but its current manner of operation is the source of our
major weaknesses. India’s many challenges require political arrangements
that permit decisive action, whereas ours increasingly promote drift and
indecision. The parliamentary system has not only outlived its utility; it was
from the start unsuited to Indian conditions and is primarily responsible for
many of our principal political
ills.
To suggest this is
political sacrilege in New Delhi. None of the many politicians i have discussed
this with are even willing to contemplate a change. The main reason for this is
that they know how to work the present system and do not wish to alter the ways
they are used to. But our reasons for choosing the British parliamentary system
are themselves embedded in history.
Like the American
revolutionaries of two centuries ago, Indian nationalists had fought for 'the
rights of Englishmen', which they thought the replication of the Houses of
Parliament would both epitomise and guarantee. When former British prime
minister Clement Attlee suggested the US presidential system as a model to
Indian leaders, "they rejected it with great emphasis. I had the feeling that
they thought i was offering them margarine instead of butter."
Even our Communists have
embraced the system with great delight, revelling in their adherence to British
parliamentary convention (down to the desk-thumping form of applause) and
complimenting themselves on their authenticity. One veteran Marxist legislator,
Hiren Mukherjee, used to assert proudly that British prime minister Anthony Eden
had felt more at home during Question Hour in the Indian parliament than in the
Australian.
Yet, the
parliamentary system assumes a number of conditions which simply do not exist in
India. It requires the existence of clearly-defined political parties, each with
a coherent set of policies and preferences that distinguish it from the next,
whereas in India a party is merely a label of convenience which a politician
adopts and discards as frequently as a Bollywood film star changes costume.
The principal parties, whether
‘national’ or otherwise, are fuzzily vague about their beliefs:
every party’s ‘ideology’ is one variant or another of centrist
populism, and with the sole exceptions of the BJP and the Communists, their
separate existence is a result of electoral arithmetic or regional identities,
not political conviction. (And even there, what on earth is the continuing case,
after the demise of the Soviet Union, for two separate Communist parties?)
With few exceptions,
India’s parties all profess their faith in the same set of rhetorical
cliches, notably socialism, secularism, a mixed economy and non-alignment, terms
they are all equally loath to define. No wonder, the Communists had no
difficulty signing on to the ‘Common Minimum Programme’. (The BJP
used to be thought of as an exception, but in its attempts to broaden its base
of support it sounds - and behaves - more or less like the other parties, except
on the emotive issue of national
identity.)
So, our parties are
not ideologically coherent, take few distinct positions and do not base
themselves on political principles. As organisational entities, therefore, they
are dispensable, and are indeed cheerfully dispensed with (or
split/reformed/merged/dissolved) at the convenience of politicians. The sight of
a leading figure from a major party leaving it to join another or start his own
- which would send shock waves through the political system in other
parliamentary democracies - is commonplace, even banal, in our country. (Ajit
Singh, if memory serves, has switched parties nine times in the last 15 years.)
In the absence of a real party
system, the voter chooses not between parties but between individuals, usually
on the basis of their caste, their public image or other personal qualities. But
since the individual is elected in order to be part of a majority that will form
the government, party affiliations matter.
So, voters are told that if
they want an Indira Gandhi as prime minister, or Karunanidhi as their chief
minister, they must vote for someone else in order to indirectly accomplish that
result. It is an absurdity only the British could have devised: to vote for a
legislature not to legislate but in order to form the executive.
So much for theory. But the
result of the profusion of small parties is that today we have a coalition
government of 20 parties, some with just one or two members of parliament, which
has succeeded an earlier coalition government of 23 parties. And, as we have
just seen in the debacle over the Indo-US nuclear deal - which instead of being
hailed as a major diplomatic triumph for India was stymied by the opposition of
the Communists, without whose votes the government would fall - a small minority
can hamstring the government. Under the current system, India’s democracy
is condemned to be run by the lowest common denominator - hardly a recipe for
decisive action.
The disrepute
into which the political process has fallen in India, and the widespread
cynicism about the motives of our politicians, can be traced directly to the
workings of the parliamentary system. It is time for a change.