It's an age-old political issue

By Swapan Das Gupta

Indian politics is blessed by short public memory. The last occasion when age was used as a weapon of political sparring was during the West Bengal Assembly election of 1987. In a bid to wrest control of the state from a well-entrenched but non-performing Left Front, an impish Rajiv Gandhi suggested, in one of his campaign speeches, that it was time for Jyoti Basu to retire. Basu was then a venerable 73 and Rajiv a sprightly 43.

Unfortunately for the Congress, the remark went down badly. It was perceived as insolent, tasteless and contrary to the Indian tradition of respect for elders. Basu dismissed Rajiv with customary brusqueness: "Rajiv Gandhi. I knew his mother." Basu's staccato-like inanities were legendary but on this occasion he hit bull's eye. The Congress was trounced. The youth versus geriatric battle concluded as a tussle between sobriety and brashness.

An unintended consequence of PM Manmohan Singh's heart surgery is that it is likely to deter the Congress and its dynastic cheerleaders from mocking L K Advani's octogenarian status. At 76, the PM may well be the epitome of youth compared to the BJP leader's 81 years but in terms of energy and vigour, the older man seems to have a clear edge. Having announced that Singh will be its prime ministerial candidate, the Congress can't risk reducing the election to a competitive fitness test.

Neither for that matter will the BJP. Regardless of the no-holds-barred political culture that prevails in some western democracies, it is considered bad taste in India to try and score political points on the opponent's state of health. A B Vajpayee wasn't in the pink of health during the 2004 general election. His famed oratorical skills had diminished substantially and his tours were kept to the barest minimum. Yet, it is difficult to recall any instance of the Congress making an issue of Vajpayee's condition. For all their shortcomings, politicians are keenly aware of the cultural sensitivities of voters. They know that the irreverence and the lack of inhibitions of bloggers cannot be translated into a popular and acceptable idiom. Kerala CM V S Achuthanandan can be attacked for his ideological pig-headedness but not because he is 85. One is acceptable, the other is considered downright offensive.

The courtesies that co-exist with incredible ugliness in Indian politics may be exasperating to those over-exposed to cosmopolitan culture but they can ignore parampara at their own peril.

There is, for example, considerable unease in Middle India over the growth of what is called pub culture. Those who argue that taverns have been an integral part of the landscape for as long as anyone can remember aren't wrong. Yet, the madhushala was seen as the exclusive preserve of the bohemian fringe — poets, intellectuals, the idle rich and the heartbroken Devdas. Pubbing doesn't enjoy the social acceptability here as it does in Britain. It is still regarded by many — not least those who cannot afford the visits — as needless cultural intrusions from an unfamiliar world.

India has wholeheartedly embraced modern technology; it is wary of the cultural baggage that comes with modernity.

This scepticism shouldn't be taken as an endorsement of the goons who vandalised a pub in Mangalore last month and have threatened to disrupt St Valentine's Day celebrations. The Sri Ram Sene was felled by a popular backlash, not on account of its voodoo Hindutva, but because its activists were seen to be assaulting frightened women. Pramod Muthalik's sinister demeanour reinforced the sense of disgust. Indians experienced a simple, heartfelt abhorrence of depravity.

Tragically, this impatience with extremism has been misread by the Facebook brigade as thumbs-up for elevating the pub and pub-going women into symbols of Indian modernity. The Pink Chaddi protest is wickedly innovative and guaranteed to be noticed. However, it is likely to reinforce Middle India's existing prejudices and bolster the stereotype of un-Indian "fast and loose women." Coming in the wake of a general election, it is calculated to create wariness of politicians whose USP is their youth, westernised demeanour and inheritance. Far from triggering a generational and cultural change in politics as they hope, these ridiculous promoters of Young India may yet end up scoring self-goals. In public life, India prefers stodginess to bling, especially when the exuberance of an economic boom has given way to the nervousness of a slowdown. Those strategists intent on dazzling India with youthful inheritors, networking frenetically on Facebook with Obama Blackberrys, should pay heed.