Indian politics is becoming ever more labyrinthine
To get the measure of India’s political class, picture this. On July 21st Manmohan Singh convened an historic gathering at the Sansad Bhavan, India’s rotund parliament building. The government had been abandoned by its Communist allies, putting Mr Singh’s great achievement, a civil nuclear co-operation deal with America, in jeopardy. The government had been reduced to a minority. If it folded, the deal would die with it, so Mr Singh asked parliament for its support.
Over two days a few brave politicians debated the nuclear deal. The rest of the house jabbered and yowled, in many tongues, for the television cameras. A convicted murderer stretched out on a backbench; he and four other jailbird members (all pro-government) had been freed for the vote. Shortly before it took place, three members of the main opposition Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) produced bricks of rupee notes: part of a bribe, they said, given by government supporters for their votes. By hook or by crook the government won, by 275 votes to 256.
In a coup-ridden region, Indians are justifiably proud of their democracy. It has been interrupted only once: in 1975, by Indira Gandhi’s 21-month state of emergency. At their next opportunity India’s voters threw out Mrs Gandhi and her Congress party, for the first time in its history. Thereby they issued a message about the importance of timely elections that India’s leaders have never forgotten—and if they did forget, India’s Election Commission would issue a reminder. It is strong and independent: it can—and does—remove any official it suspects of undue bias. This ensures that, every five years, over a period of a few weeks, India holds a reasonably orderly and fair election. Its 29 states do the same, according to their own electoral calendars. For a vast and somewhat unruly nation, where the state is often partial and corrupt, these are tremendous accomplishments.
If only the election commissioners could decide which Indians are fit for election. The country’s politicians are mostly an unsavoury lot. Of the 522 members of India’s current parliament, 120 are facing criminal charges; around 40 of these are accused of serious crimes, including murder and rape. Most Indian politicians are presumed to be corrupt, which is less surprising. In India’s poor and fractious society patronage politics is inevitable. But Indian politics has got much muckier in recent years because of two factors: the rise of regional and caste-based parties, nakedly dedicated to delivering patronage; and the mutinous coalitions this has led to.
In 2004, after eight years in the wilderness, Congress returned to power after winning 145 seats in parliament. The BJP, which had run a fairly competent coalition government under Atal Bihari Vajpayee, won 138. To form a government—for which 272 seats are required—Congress put together the United Progressive Alliance (UPA) with 12 other parties. Ruling in this arrangement would have been hard enough, but the UPA was still short of a majority. So Congress recruited “outside ” support from another five parties, the most important of which was a coalition of Communist parties, the “Left Front”.
Suspended animation
This absurdly complicated and unrepresentative government has turned out to be more enduring than many expected. For Congress’s leaders, indeed, its survival is a formidable achievement: the party had never managed a coalition before. With competent managers in the main economic ministries, the government can also take some credit for India’s strong economic performance. But it has failed to pass almost any of the reforms India will need to keep up that performance. The Communists were the most obvious blockage; they opposed every liberal proposal on principle. But more broadly, like India’s vast bureaucracy, the government has expended far too much energy merely to sustain itself.
The nuclear deal epitomised its weakness. As a bilateral agreement, signed by Mr Singh and President George Bush in 2005, it did not need parliamentary approval. But because of opposition from the Communists the government was unable to seek the necessary approvals for the deal from the International Atomic Energy Agency and the Nuclear Suppliers’ Group, a club of 45 nations. All last year this stand-off dominated the government’s business. The deal was said to be off, then on, then off again. Pranab Mukherjee, a senior Congress leader who is close to the Communists, mediated between them and Mrs Gandhi. This left regrettably little time for his other job, as India’s foreign minister.
In September 2007 Congress’s regional partners urged Mrs Gandhi to forget the nuclear pact rather than risk an early election. She agreed. The deal was resurrected in June only after Mr Singh allegedly threatened to quit. The Communists walked out. But the government survived by recruiting a new ally, the low-caste Samajwadi Party (SP) from Uttar Pradesh.
The hope had been that the government, relieved of its Communist allies, might push through a few financial-sector reforms. In the event, reduced to a minority, now squabbling with the SP and with an election season coming, it has felt too weak even to try.
This is troubling. It indicates the risks India’s governments will increasingly have to take to get support for any bold policy. Reaching a consensus is becoming impossible, so fragmented is the polity. In the 2004 election Congress and the BJP mustered only 283 seats between them, a record low and only 11 more than is needed for a majority. Both parties saw their share of the vote decline. Congress’s shrank more, to 26.7%, almost a record low. Yet it increased its share of seats, partly because the BJP’s vote was spoiled by smaller parties. Congress nonetheless got the opportunity to form a government, for a reason beyond either party’s control: the BJP’s allies fared unexpectedly badly.
All that can confidently be said about India’s next government is that it will be a coalition, probably led by Congress or the BJP. If neither party can make the necessary alliances to get a majority, there is a slim third possibility: a government led by a regional, caste-based or conceivably even Communist party, with “outside” support from one of the two national parties. Such an arrangement could make the current government look positively united and progressive.
Elections this month in three important northern states, and six states in all, should offer clues as to which scenario is the most likely. As this special report went to press, results were pending from Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh and Chhattisgarh, which are all currently held by the BJP. A sweep for either of India’s main parties would be a big boost, though not conclusive, as the BJP found in 2004. It called that general election six months early, on the back of poll victories in those same northern states, and lost. Results are also due from elections being held this month in Delhi, which Congress has ruled for a decade; in Mizoram, a small north-eastern state; and in troubled Jammu and Kashmir.
The general election will be an important test of Congress’s ability to reverse its long decline. Since 2004 it has scored some modest hits. Besides survival, its government has a number of lavish welfare schemes to boast about, including a programme of public works that it claims will provide work for 30m households this year. But the recent turn of events in India, including last month’s terrorist attack in Mumbai, will make such things hard to boast of. And because Congress’s state-level machinery is weak, it is not good at advertising even these small successes.
This reflects the party’s highly centralised leadership structure, based on the cult of the Gandhi family of which Sonia is the current representative. The Italian-born widow of Rajiv Gandhi, a fourth-generation leader of Congress and of India who was murdered in 1991, Sonia was persuaded to take over the party in 1998. She, like this government, has done a bit better than expected. But even if Mrs Gandhi was better than she is, she could not restore Congress to anything like its former power.
The Gandhi factor
For almost four decades it ruled India by relying on three main groups for support: Muslims, high-caste Hindus and Hindu dalits (formerly “untouchables”). The fragmentation of Indian politics is partly a consequence of these groups turning to other parties. Congress’s performance in general elections does not fully reflect this: it actually does better at the centre than in the states, where patronage politics is more intense. That may be because of a residual fondness for the Gandhi family. But it will not restore the party’s lost base.
Congress knows this. But having no strong ideology to unite its squabbling factions, the party’s leaders remain forlornly faithful to the Gandhi dynasty. This was painfully obvious last year when the party charged Mrs Gandhi’s 38-year-old son and heir apparent, Rahul, with restoring the party’s fortunes in UP, India’s biggest state. It is the ancestral seat of the Gandhis and also the birthplace of India’s most powerful low-caste parties. Under Mr Gandhi’s well-meaning but unimpressive leadership, Congress got 22 out 402 seat in UP. A party for dalits, the Bahujan Samaj Party (BSP), won a big majority.
In difficult times it would be reasonable to suppose that Congress is in for a hiding in the coming election. Even in good times Indian voters tend to be disappointed with their governments. Indeed, that was another reason why the BJP lost in 2004. The terrorist attacks in Mumbai should also improve the chances of the security-obsessed BJP. But it is not clear to what extent the Hindu nationalists can capitalise on this.
During the 1990s the BJP built a base of perhaps 15% of Indian voters—typically high-caste and from the north—who liked its Hindu-chauvinist creed, known as Hindutva, or “Hinduness”. In power, from 1998 to 2004, the party tried to expand its base into a broad temple of right-of-centre nationalists. To avoid offending its allies, many of whom had Muslim followings, it also placed less stress on Hindutva. But after its 2004 defeat the party fell to feuding. Its modernisers were demoralised. Its Hinduist ideologues, a more powerful group, attributed the election defeat to insufficient Hindutva. In 2005 they forced the party’s prime ministerial candidate, L.K. Advani, to resign as its leader.
The BJP’s fortunes have since improved. In the past two years the party or its allies have won six out of 11 state polls. Congress has won in only three minor states. A victory for the BJP in May in Karnataka—its first in a southern state—was especially impressive. Mr Advani, an octogenarian bruiser, has also been reinstated as the party’s prime ministerial candidate and unofficial leader. He has restored some of the BJP’s old sense of purpose.
But this momentum may not take it very far. Badly as it did in 2004, the BJP performed well in a few populous northern states, including the three currently awaiting election results. If it loses ground there, as the anti-incumbency tick suggests it might, it is not obvious where it can make it up. In the past, when times were hard, the BJP responded by lambasting Muslims. But to do that, even after the outrage in Mumbai, would be a mistake—not least because the BJP urgently needs to recruit new allies.
A BJP-led government would offer India a better prospect of reform than the current arrangement, but possibly not much better. Compared with Mr Vajpayee’s government, the BJP would probably be a smaller component of the coalition. And Mr Advani is not the deft coalition manager that Mr Vajpayee was. Whether Congress could make a better fist of bringing change, given another chance, would depend first on whether it was again shackled by the Communists.
Mayawati thinks bigOf the other possible coalition leaders, one, the BSP, which is led by an autocratic former primary-school teacher called Mayawati, has captured India’s imagination. The dalit party’s victory in UP was a stunning achievement. Until then, caste-based parties had struggled to attract much support from outside their narrow base. The BSP succeeded, through skilful negotiations, by recruiting leaders of other castes, including brahmins. Thus it aped Congress’s own historic strategy. If Mayawati can replicate this success in the general election, she could play a big part in deciding the composition of the government. UP alone commands 80 seats in parliament. And Mayawati is trying hard to increase her reach outside the state: in February she drew 80,000 people to a rally in Delhi. She has declared her ambition to be India’s first dalit prime minister.
That would be truly inspirational for members of a still downtrodden group. But it might be disastrous for India. Mayawati has a reputation for egomania and gross corruption (though this has never been stood up in court). Newspaper reports, working from her tax return, have estimated her personal income at $12m, twice the figure for her party. Her support for an unsuccessful scheme to append a shopping mall to the Taj Mahal, which is in UP, does not speak well of her judgment. India’s democracy tax, like Mayawati’s income tax, is rising. But so, at least to some extent, is its ability to pay.
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