Voice

A Country Unto Itself

There’s no place like India. Which is precisely why its politics and economy are such a contradictory, beautiful mess.

NEW DELHI — India does not reconcile contradictions so much as inhabit them. Is there one god? Three? Gods? Without number? Yes, yes, and yes. Visitors are instructed to leave their Cartesian logic at passport control. This is contrary to my all-too-binary nature. But after two weeks in Delhi talking to people about the wrinkled, lumbering, battle-scarred pachyderm that is the Congress Party, I have begun to accept that it may be precisely Congress's capacity to live blithely with contradiction that accounts for its astonishing persistence (that, and the Gandhi family name).

The other day, I went to speak to Meenakshi Natarajan, a parliamentarian and one of the party's bright young stars. Congress, she explained to me, had lost its way when it embraced economic liberalism in the 1990s but now had reached the right balance: growth-oriented policies to generate surplus to spend on massive schemes for the poor. Now, this makes no sense: A paternalistic welfare state, unless it sits on an ocean of oil, will eventually stop generating the growth that funds its generous outlays. And yet this is pretty much what the Congress has done since gaining power in 2004. If Congress has any prospect of winning the elections next year, it will be thanks to what the party calls "inclusive growth."

The budget speech which P. Chidambaram, the deft finance minister ("Harvard-educated," as the papers here like to note), gave earlier this week would have fit right in at, say, the 1984 Democratic convention, when U.S. liberals were beholden to its various special interests. He began by talking about the projected 12.5 percent increase in spending over the last year on Scheduled Castes -- or untouchables, as they used to be stigmatized -- and so-called Scheduled Tribes. Then the minister detailed new spending on women, on children and minorities, including a new bank for women. He had, he said, set aside $2 billion for a program to distribute food to the poor -- a plan which even some party officials thought might better be put off in the name of fiscal discipline. Chidambaram had goodies for every one of India's needy groups. The speech took almost two hours, in part because he had so many gifts to distribute.

And yet the speech also satisfied the business community, which wanted to see government investment in infrastructure as well as a commitment to reducing the deficit, which is now 5.3 percent of gross domestic product. Chidambaram appears to have crafted a growth-oriented budget which would generate surplus to spend on schemes for the poor. I still don't understand how he nailed this double-somersault so cleanly; it may have had something to do with an extremely aspirational growth projection which assumed an increase in tax revenue equal to the expenditures he proposed. In that case, of course, the miracle will vanish soon enough, though hopefully not before the 2014 elections.

Congress Party officials will tell you that their policies are "pro-poor," an expression which denotes not only the redistribution of wealth from haves to have-nots, as in most welfare states, but the use of direct state programs to supply food, work, power, fertilizer, and other essential goods to the poor as well as the middle-class. To put it simply, the Congress is a socialist party at a time when the West has abandoned socialism. But the government also commissioned Raghuram Rajan, a former senior official with the International Monetary Fund, to write the government's Economic Survey, which called for precisely the kind of reforms in labor market and land acquisition which party regulars stoutly resist. The survey came out the day before the budget speech. As Shekhar Shah, director of the independent National Council of Applied Economic Research, notes, it's impossible to imagine Barack Obama's Treasury Department issuing a major report so completely at variance with his own views.

You don't have to be a socialist to see the validity of India's welfare schemes, like the National Rural Employment Guarantee Act, which provides day labor to Indian farmers during idle periods. The rising tide of urban economic growth does not lift the boats of the rural poor in India. The same is true with India's incredibly elaborate system of "reservations," which provide slots at universities and in government jobs for disadvantaged groups like Scheduled Castes and Tribes. In a system in which hierarchies are as deep-rooted as they are in India, social mobility will not come about simply because of the pull of economic opportunity. But India's welfare schemes are wildly wasteful. Rajiv Gandhi, Indira Gandhi's son and India's most technocratic prime minister, famously asserted in the 1980s that only 15 percent of welfare payments actually reached the poor; the rest went to bureaucracy or "leakage" -- i.e., theft. Absent the sort of reform which the pro-market wing of the party advocates, this sort of bureaucratic statism will kill the golden goose of economic growth.

The "pro-poor" vision is the heart and soul of the Congress. "We give voice to the voiceless," Meenakshi Natarajan said to me, quoting Nehru. Rajiv's widow, Sonia Gandhi (he was assassinated in 1991) is a committed socialist; their son and heir apparent, Rahul, is deep-dyed in the Congress tradition. And many Congress officials think the party went astray when it liberalized the Indian economy in 1991. You can still get into arguments with them about whether GDP growth even matters. And whatever its merits as economic policy, pro-poor policy works very well as politics: scarcely anyone doubts that Congress won in 2009 thanks to programs like the employment scheme. There's a reason why Chidambaram found room for the food security program.

But the amazing thing about political life in this country is that many Indians are convinced that India is sui generis. The fact that something works or doesn't work elsewhere tells you nothing about India, because no other place is like India. I often get into arguments here where I find myself defending, say, India's admittedly corrupt and patronage-ridden democracy on the grounds that things are no better, and perhaps worse, in Brazil or Indonesia. "Brazil!" someone will sneer. "The whole population of Brazil could fit into UP (Uttar Pradesh, which has 200 million people)!" And woe be unto him or her who thinks to compare India favorably to Pakistan -- as if that hive of pathology bears comparison to the world's largest democracy. No, India can only be judged a success or a failure in comparison to itself.

So, how is India doing compared to itself? India suffers from a bad case of Greatest Generation envy, since Jawaharlal Nehru and his team of rivals really were great men who delivered India safe and more or less sound through the storms of Partition and the threat of fragmentation. But even leaving nostalgia aside, Indian politics, as I wrote last week, seems to have lost its capacity to represent national aspirations, and seems to be slipping into a phase of regionalism and of weak central government. So in that respect at least, not so great.

The economy, however, is another matter. India has been a far, far better place since it left behind Nehru's infatuation with state control of the "commanding heights" of the economy. The budget now available to India's central planners -- yes, India still has a central planning commission -- is 15 times greater than it was 20 years ago. That buys a lot of help for the poor, as well as for everyone else. Congress had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the late 20th century. Still, the party has been in power for 14 of the last 20 years.

The auguries for 2014 look very bad for the Congress -- though it's not quite clear just who they look good for. Somebody else is likely to have a chance to try their hand at running India's economy; possibly a party more unambiguously committed to market-oriented policies, like the right-leaning (and Hindu nationalist) Bharatiya Janata Party. Maybe they'll prove that what works in other places works in India too. On balance, I doubt it.

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Terms of Engagement

Return of the Gandhis

In the new India, everything is moving a mile a minute. Except politics.

NEW DELHI — I am on my seventh trip to India since I first came in 1976. Nothing is the same. The essential Indian narrative has gone from timelessness to disruption; the national icon from the lumbering elephant to the call center to the high-tech entrepreneur. The Delhi that I first knew was the gracious city of white bungalows, trimmed lawns, and broad boulevards laid out by Edwin Lutyens in 1911; now Old New Delhi, as I think of it, recalls a quaint colonial past in a city of 16 million. Everything has changed -- except India's politics, which feel utterly familiar. You can't help wondering when -- or if -- India's politics will catch up with its society.

The big political news in recent months has been the return of the Gandhis. Not that they ever really went away. The 42-year-old Rahul Gandhi, son of Rajiv, grandson of Indira, great-grandson of Jawaharlal Nehru, great-great grandson of Motilal Nehru, has taken a senior position in the family business, known as the Indian National Congress party. With parliamentary elections scheduled for next year, India's vast tribe of pundits (derived from pandit, the Hindi word for "sage") and political junkies are waiting with bated breath for an epic battle for the premiership between a coalition led by Gandhi and another led by Narendra Modi, the chief minister of Gujarat state, a figure equally known for his business-first mentality and his hard-line Hindu nationalism; many Indians believe that he encouraged Hindu rioters who killed around 800 Muslims in 2002 riots.

India has a parliamentary rather than a presidential system, so in any case the two will not be running directly against one another. And Rahul (members of the Gandhi family, who are thought of as every Indian's son, brother, mother, etc., are almost always referred to by first name) has said that he has no wish to serve as prime minister in 2014, even if the Congress party wins. He may even mean what he says, but neither the public nor his own party, desperate for a new infusion of Gandhi-family charisma, is prepared to hear it.

The family-run political party is hardly unique to India. It is in fact the norm in South Asia. In Pakistan, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto begat Benazir Bhutto, who married Asif Ali Zardari, the current president. (And both begat Bilawal Zardari, waiting in the wings at age 24.) Similar lineages have governed Bangladesh and Sri Lanka. Dynasties can confer stability and predictability on otherwise chaotic democracies, especially during moments of crisis, but they do tend to devolve toward the fin de race (witness Pakistan's oafish president). What's more, these quasi-monarchies have trouble standing for anything beyond the family and the country's historical connection to the family. The Nehru-Gandhi family ushered India into freedom and in the first generation preserved it from innumerable shocks; since then, nothing so great.

India's romance with the Gandhis, like America's with the Kennedys, has been cemented by tragedy. Indira was assassinated in 1984; Rajiv in 1991. The willingness to pay this awful price has given the family a special kind of legitimacy -- almost an intrinsic right to rule. At the same time, this culling of the ranks has forced India to wait for a new generation of Gandhis to come along. They may be needed, but they're also in very limited supply. Rajiv replaced Indira as prime minister, but he was in turn replaced by a veteran Congressman, P.V. Narasimha Rao. Only under Rao -- along with Finance Minister Manmohan Singh, now prime minister -- did the Congress party, and India, break from Nehru's socialist faith, which had given the state a stranglehold over the economy. The new India of entrepreneurship, innovation, and dynamic growth dates from this moment.

The rise of a non-Gandhi-centric Congress party would have constituted another phase of India's maturation. But it was not to be. The party fell from power and broke into factions, some aligning themselves with Rajiv's widow, Sonia, who had long shunned politics. Sonia agreed to become the party president in 1998 and has remained in that post ever since. When the Congress party returned to power in 2004, Sonia shocked the country by declining to become prime minister. But Singh, whom she asked to take the post, has always deferred to her, and no one doubts who is the most powerful person in the country. The populist economic initiatives that Singh has pursued since taking over -- which have proved highly popular -- come from the party, not the government.

Now, the Sonia interregnum having runs its course, the new generation is ready to take over. Rahul's younger sister, Priyanka, proved to be a deft campaigner with a common touch, but she's married with children and retired from politics, at least temporarily. In 2004, Rahul won the family seat in the "Hindi heartland" state of Uttar Pradesh and then quite consciously disappeared into the long-term business of rebuilding the party at the grassroots. He has sought to instill a new spirit of meritocracy and transparency in the Indian Youth Congress, which had come to be viewed as a nest of young (and not-so-young) louts and timeservers.

Rahul is afflicted by an acute awareness of the pathological elements of the Congress party's relationship to his family, even as he tries to exploit that special relationship to change a culture of nepotism, sycophancy, and gross favoritism. It's a very delicate, and possibly paradoxical, enterprise. "I am a symptom of this problem," he admitted bluntly in a 2008 speech. He has turned down a slot in Singh's cabinet and possibly also the chief ministership of Uttar Pradesh and his mother's job. He wants to be a humble worker in the Congress vineyards -- at least until he is ready to fully emerge on the national scene. But the party may not allow him to be, such is the force of that Gandhi cult of personality.

When I think of Rahul's predicament, I'm reminded of a mass audience with J. Krishnamurti, a revered philosopher-guru, then 85, which I attended in Bombay in 1980.

A bright light shone down on a tiny white-haired man on a stage. He said, with an asperity that bordered on bitterness, "You must not seek gurus. You must have the courage to listen to your own voice." And the crowd roared back in unison, "Yes, master! We will follow our own voice!" Followership is a very hard habit to break.

Modi, Rahul's rival for the premiership, suffers from no such ambivalence about authority. He is a fiery orator who knows very well how to hold and keep a crowd. Modi's father sold tea from a cart at a railway station -- as did Modi. Modi is himself the incarnation of the meritocratic principles of which Rahul speaks. He has said, "I am a fish in the sea, while that fellow" -- and everyone knows which fellow -- "is a fish in the aquarium." A son of the soil against a Gandhi scion, a classic strongman against a mild-mannered democrat, a nationalist who plays with fire against a committed secularist: It really would be fun to watch.

Politics in India is a tamasha -- a big, noisy spectacle. But you have to wonder whether voters will begin to tire of it. The small-scale if endemic corruption of yesteryear has inflated to grotesque proportions as national wealth and the national budget have mushroomed. All parties have been tainted; even the currency of the Gandhi family may have been devalued. Changing this culture may be well beyond Rahul's reach. After all, the Congress party has an election to win, and elections require bottomless sums of cash, often ferried in bags and suitcases. India even has a new anti-corruption party -- the Common Man's Party -- but it can't win elections either without black money. Politics in India must change -- but not tomorrow, or anytime soon.

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