Sons as rulers

Nihal Singh

THE main actors pursuing their interests in the farce the country has been witnessing in Uttar Pradesh seem to be wedded to the Oscar Wildean adage, “Nothing succeeds like excess”. Yet at the level beyond snatching microphones and abusing one another lies the tragedy of Indian politics: hereditary power transfers foretell the decline of Indian democracy.

Indeed, Mr Mulayam Singh Yadav has the distinction of bringing his whole brood into the state’s power structure. We are familiar with the practice of the son acceding to the throne, despite the trappings of democracy. But to transform the state’s administrative and power structure into a pen for uncles and wives and children and their children is Mr Mulayam Singh Yadav’s unique achievement.

The practice is so gross that it is no  longer a matter of Uttar Pradesh alone, but a crisis the whole country has to try to resolve before Indian democracy is overwhelmed by uncles and their wives and siblings quarrelling among themselves on how to divide the pie.

Indeed, the time has come to frame regulations enforceable in law to limit the country’s political rulers in the number of relatives he or she can have in his or her government in New Delhi or in the states. Mr Lalu Prasad in Bihar is keeping company with Mr Mulayam Singh in having asked his wife take his chief minister’s post when he was debarred and has imposed his callow sons on Mr Nitish Kumar’s coalition government.

A set of measures can be refined before being debated by Parliament. No more than one son or daughter can be a member of the leader’s administration and power structure. The penalties could extend to the leader losing his or her job. Second, any entrant to the leader’s administration must certify that he is not a direct relative of the leader in power.

There are other refinements that can be made to ensure that there are no loopholes left to enable clever politicians to smuggle their relatives in one guise or another. But the main question this raises is why parliamentarians would pass legislation that goes against their grain when they have long successfully stalled passage of a bill giving fair representation to women in Parliament.

The only alternative that presents itself is a mass movement primed by activists promoting fair democratic practices. After all, the mass movement built up in the Nirbhaya brutal rape case was an impressive demonstration of the power of mobilisation. There is no reason why men like Prashant Bhushan and Yogendra Yadav, who have now floated a new party after leaving the Aam Aadmi Party long ago, should not embrace a worthy cause which is poisoning the well of democracy in India.

 There is no doubt that the Nehru-Gandhi family must bear a large share of the blame for starting a trend that has been reduced to the Mulayam Singh formula: the more family members in the government, the better. So family quarrels become crises of state and Mr Akhilesh Singh Yadav, the beleaguered Chief Minister of the state, proclaims that he is in his post because his father willed it and he would resign if his father told him to. What about the people who are supposed to vote parties and candidates to power?

Logically, it would appear that for the main protagonists it is a question of seeking truce among family members to set the government on the straight and narrow. The people seem redundant to the exercise, except at election time, which is approaching far too quickly for the Samajwadi Party. Yet the family farce that is being enacted by individuals seeking power is so self-consuming that no one seems concerned over the spectacle they are making to almost universal derision.

The deeper question that must be asked is whether there is something in the Indian genes that places the welfare of progeny above all considerations of the welfare of the nation. The classic case is, of course, of Rahul Gandhi, heir to the Nehru-Gandhi dynasty, who is being forced into a leadership role by his mother Sonia, despite his make-up, which is inimical to the world of politics.

 This raises the question that if Indians accept the belief that entire families should sup at the fountain of government largesse, what is the point of agitating? One would like to believe there are many, if not the mass, who feel that in a modern democracy a distinction must be made between family rule and the welfare of the state and the people. In fact, Mr Mulayam Singh has done a service by highlighting the absurdities of adding relations to the administrative structure; the score at last count was 18.

 We live in evolving times, with a new BJP government in power at the Centre and in many of the states, with Prime Minister Narendra Modi being in a unique position, having foresworn dealings with his wife and is only publicly fond of his old mother. Few in the country would agree to such a drastic remedy, but there must be a consensus that the government’s till is not to be raided by the leader’s retinue of relations.

Is it in the end a contest between the old and the new Jawaharlal Nehru tried so hard to bridge? The jury is still out. Whatever the methods employed, it is time to bell the cat before the country is dotted with replicas of Mr Mulayam Singh all over the country. We must recognise that there is a difference between how power was traditionally wielded and the demands of a democracy. If we are not to regress after the revolution brought about by Mahatma Gandhi, Nehru, Balasaheb Ambedkar and other greats of the Independence era, we must say no to family rule.

The next chapter of the Mulayam Singh family drama will be watched with more than ordinary interest. Thus far, UP has outdone Bollywood in the tearjerkers it has produced.