We are family

WHAT a turbulent time this has been in our neighbourhood: Pakistan in the throes of a constitutional crisis, Sri Lanka in an economic mess that must be the nightmare of any political regime, Nepal teetering on the edge of financial ruin. Compared to these overwhelming problems, our own shenanigans, both political and economic, seem so piffling that bhakts of the current regime cannot stop gloating. In any case, Indians have largely defined their happiness in inverse proportion to the misery in Pakistan. Ergo, as long as the people next door are suffering, we grin and live through our own rocketing prices and inflation. The Germans have a lovely word to describe this: schadenfraude, which translates roughly as rejoicing in another’s misery.

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On a more serious note, however, one has to reflect on what democracy means to the subcontinent and whether we have the same respect for institutions and the rule of law that western democracies swear by. The Westminster model of parliamentary democracy, that holds the Parliament supreme and honours the legislature, judiciary and the executive as necessary checks and balances on each other, appears as just cliches we mouth here. In the subcontinent, it is the family that is supreme. This is as true of our quotidian life as it is of our political worldview.

Someone will have to explain to me why every political party is now a family-owned business and our politicians have shamelessly carved up territories for themselves based on mutually agreed transactional terms. In almost every state in India, power is tossed like a ball between two powerful clans (Punjab is just one example, my friends) and the common citizen votes more often than not on loyalty to one family or the other rather than on issues of national or provincial relevance.

Forget India, look at what was once the Indian subcontinent: India (that included Pakistan and Bangladesh), Burma and Ceylon. In each of these countries, power has been jealously guarded by one or two powerful families. In Pakistan, it was the Bhuttos and now the Nawaz Sharif clan; in Bangladesh, two ladies belonging to the families of Sheikh Mujibur Rehman and Ziaur Rahman; in Sri Lanka, it was the descendants of Sirimavo Bandaranaike and the Rajapaksas. Myanmar has been a toss-up between the junta and a dynast, Aung San Suu Kyi, who battled the army to set up a democratic state and is now a shamed heroine for the abandonment of the Rohingyas. I will not even venture into countries that lie further afield: Indonesia, or the Philippines. Nor will I speak of those kingdoms (Bhutan and Nepal) that were monarchies from the very beginning. In each case, democratic traditions and egalitarianism, considered the bedrock of any decent democracy, have never been encouraged to develop. This leads one to believe that the deeply feudal mindset of this part of the world has a very different understanding of democracy and at the heart of it lies the family.

From the time we are young, Indians are taught never to question the elders in a family or even argue with them. At the top of this pyramid is the ‘karta’, the patriarch, for our social order is shamelessly male-oriented too. Women may wield influence but they have to do so discreetly and often from behind a purdah. This is why, unless there are no sons, it is always the sons that take over the mantle from their fathers. From Kashmir to Kanyakumari, this is the pattern we follow even as we decry the rampant corruption of most political parties. How then are we different from those feudal lords and princes who ruled this country for millennia? Moreover, secure in the knowledge that they have the funds and the goons to buy political power, our netas have pretty much run their fiefdoms as private domains.

Mercifully, there is hope. The disenchantment with the irresponsible and profligate behaviour of these families has turned even die-hard loyalists away from these latter-day despots. And when adoration turns to disgust, it swings in the opposite direction in equal measure. The mightiest can be felled in one election and their misdeeds leave such a stink that no one from that clan or family will be able to sail through to power as easily as was once possible. This is what happened in UP recently when despite strong support from a section of the media and the minority community, Akhilesh Yadav was soundly defeated because his family’s name had been branded with so much opprobrium that he was unable to emerge unscathed. The sins of fathers are visited upon their sons: look around the country and you can see this everywhere.

The phenomenon of dynastic power is as true of our business families as it is of our political parties. Engaging professionals to run their companies is wisdom that just a handful of our industrial houses have displayed. Bitter feuds between siblings, corrupt and sleazy business practices have brought down so many but still we would rather trust a son than an honest and meritorious professional.

One day, this will have to change and only then will we be able to stand up proudly at the world fora and give it back to all those preachy white democracies that tell us why we are just not as good as them.