Immature Republic?

Republic Day was a holiday for me when I was but a college boy. It was an occasion for solemn celebration. It was a holiday from lectures but there were always parades, gatherings, addresses and speeches. It was 1994 and my  family household accommodated my 73-year-old grandma ,  who was virtually bedridden and spent her days  by sitting on the veranda in her gown and observing the traffic and concocting gossip from the comings and goings of the neighbourhood houses except her Sunday  was  for to watch Ramanand Sagar’s Ramayana  and then whole day talk about it . She didn’t miss many details from the people who use to come to neighbouring house and would count the minutes that the woman who bought waste paper and empty bottles spent inside the premises of the naughty Parsi priest who lived in the house across the street. She wo­uld, with pretended in­nocence, say, “His wife went out and he called that woman into the house. He must have a lot of waste paper and bottles to sell, because she stayed at least half an hour.”

So on Republic Day of that year my brother was delegated to prepare a speech with some patriotic content for college. He dressed in what was his best dress for the occasion and as he stepped out that morning our grandma called out to him.

“Whose wedding is it?” “It isn’t a wedding, Daadi ,” my brother  sa­id. “I’m going to address the whole of our college.” “Address them for what?” “Don’t you know it’s Republic Day?” “What’s that?” our grandma asked. “You know, when we, I mean our country finally became a republic — when the British finally left us…” Daadi was genuinely astounded. “What?? The British ha­ve left? No one told me!”

So here was one citizen who, 35 years after In­de­pendence, hadn’t been af­fected by the momentous historical change. She was blissfully un­aware that we had kept our tryst with destiny. I wonder if I was, in my school days, fully aware of the difference bet­ween Independence Day on the 15th of August and Republic Day on the 26th of January. I can vaguely remember that my dad explained the distinction. One was the day we got to govern ourselves and the other was the day when we severed all connection with the monarch of Britain and adopted a Pre­si­dent as our constitutional head. The Captains had departed and it was now the turn of the Kings.

Emerging from under the wings of kings had in Europe and in America been momentous and not very peaceful occasions. The declaration of a republic in England by the Crom­wellian rebellion was effected by chopping off the head of Charles I. In France, the republic was declared after a revolution and a bloodbath of royalty and nobility under the guillotine. The American colonies declared their republic after a war of independence against the forces of George III.

India, which became a republic after a long str­u­ggle which we still bo­ast, was under the gu­i­­dance of the Ma­hatma, non-violent. The king was replaced by a head of state who had all the titular respect of the Co­n­stitution but, as with the kings and que­ens of England for several generations, no real power.

India’s transition to republicanism is constitutionally established but the tradition of ruling dynasties has not been completely erased. We have virtual royal families, people whose bloodline is accepted by parties and people as adequate qualifications for nomination to the highest offices.

This tendency, which amounts to a historical immaturity of India’s democracy, holds true at the Centre and in the states where sons, daughters, grandsons, granddaughters, nephews and nieces of a clan lay claim to leadership and office and have their claim unquestioningly recognised.

In that sense, though per­haps to a lesser ex­tent, this immaturity of democracy bedevils the US, too. The Kennedys established themselves as the kings and queens of Camelot. Bobby may very well have succeeded to the presidency, following John F. after an interregnum. Another Bush and another Clinton may well contest for the highest office and may indeed occupy the White House.

It doesn’t happen to that extent in the older democracies of England, France, Germany or Italy. Mark Thatcher would more likely serve a term in Pentonville prison rather than in 10 Downing Street. The idea that Cherie Blair could become a power in the land or that Berlusconi’s mistresses could become parliamentarians is ridiculous — or perhaps in the latter instance not that far-fetched a possibility.

There are other deep immaturities in Indian democracy which paradoxically make it uni­que and can even be cou­n­ted among its stren­g­t­hs. The most obvious is the reliance on “votebanks”, the by-and-large guaranteed support of sections of an electorate through the membersh­ip of a caste or religion. Sometimes this can be seen as a strength. In the obvious case, dalit votebanks with large numbers elect a dalit to the chief ministership of a state, hoping to advance their castes in material and social terms.

That a determined anti-dynastic principle seems to be at work in some Indian political for­mations and parties should be welcomed. One may, of course, prefer the dynastic principle to some of the choices offered to the electo­rate through the action of ideological politics.

One hears, for instance, that the Congress party is quite likely to select a member of the Nehru-Gandhi family as its next leader and that Narendra Modi is making a strong bid to become the leading parliamentarian and thence prime ministerial candidate of the BJP.

Not having a vote in In­dia, I don’t suppose I sho­uld express any preferences if the contest should end up being Ra­hul or Priyanka vs Na­rendrabhai. (Despite not having a Green Card, I was openly for Obama last November.)

My only reservation, apart from other judgments about his past record, is that if Narendrabhai prevails he may impose an alcohol ban on the nation and he would not get my vote atleast for that. Or will we Journalists be exempted?