Resolving inter-state water sharing disputes

N. SHANTHA MOHAN and SAILEN ROUTRAY

WATER does not respect any boundary. Most of the larger rivers in India meander through the administrative boundaries of the Indian federal system. Sometimes a river itself is the boundary: the Indravati forms the boundary between Maharashtra and Chhattisgarh for a part of its flow. Often rivers mark metaphorical boundaries as well: the Ganga is the vehicle to the heavens whereas the Vaitarani marks the crossing from this world of mortals to an infernal one. Therefore, in a fundamental sense, all rivers are transboundary.
But for our somewhat mundane discussion, it’s the wayward rivers that do not obey the diktats of human cartographic exercises that end up being marked and categorized as transboundary. For our purpose, we focus on rivers that arise in one province of India but end up in another. All of the longer and major rivers in India are transboundary rivers: the Mahanadi originates in Amarkantak in Chhattisgarh and crosses over into Orissa before finding its way to the Bay of Bengal; the Chambal rises near Mhow in Madhya Pradesh before meandering for more than 900 kilometres to the Yamuna in Uttar Pradesh, after having acquired the formidable reputation as a river of the badlands.
The Chambal is a telling example of a river, a large one with a length of around 960 km, that complicates the ways in which rivers in India are clubbed together and categorized. It arises in the central highlands and drains into the Yamuna which itself drains into the Ganga, thus forming part of a larger Gangetic river system. But it is difficult to locate it within the four-fold categorization of rivers of India into Himalayan, peninsular, inland and small coastal rivers flowing into the Arabian Sea.
The Ganga, Yamuna, Son, Gandak, Brahamaputra, Lohit and Teesta are examples of Himalayan rivers. A large part of the water that Himalayan rivers receive is from the snowmelt during summer and therefore perennial in nature. Most of the larger rivers in peninsular India are east flowing, apart from a few exceptions such as the Narmada and Tapti that drain into the Arabian Sea. The important east flowing rivers of peninsular India are the Subernarekha, Mahanadi, Brahmani, Godavari, Krishna, Cauvery and Pennar.
The Western Ghats form an important watershed for the southern part of the country. Apart from many of the east flowing rivers that rise here, many small and fast flowing rivers such as the Zuari, Mandovi, Netravati and Periyar originate in the ghats and after flowing fast over a short distance, drain into the Arabian Sea. Most of the other rivers in India are transboundary, be it a large river such as the Ganges or a relatively smaller one as the Penner. Rivers such as the Ghaggar and Luni do not find an outlet into the sea and lose their way in the desert wastes of Rajasthan and Gujarat.

The transboundary rivers have significant implications for water usage and policymaking, especially because while India has around 16% of the population and 2.45% of the land area of the world, it has only 4% of its water resources. In gross national terms the availability of water is comfortable. But this situation can easily change with increased demand due to changing patterns of economic growth and urbanization. Further, there is a large variation in terms of both spatial and temporal aspects. Spatially speaking with respect to water, the northern and eastern parts of the country are better endowed as compared to the western and southern. The less endowed regions with respect to water are located in arid parts in the states of Rajasthan, Gujarat, Maharashtra, Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu that lie in one rain shadow region or the other.¹
India has a monsoonal climate and the average annual rainfall is 1,170 mm. It varies from less than 150 mm/year in northwestern Rajasthan to more than 10000 mm/year of rainfall in Meghalaya. A large part of the country, however, receives rain for only 100 hours in a year. More than half of the precipitation is received in rainfall of less than about 20 hours.² Therefore, the storing and subsequent usage of water is of utmost importance. It is this imperative to store water that creates potential for conflicts over transboundary rivers.

All rivers which flow across international and inter-state boundaries are a source of potential conflict. Fortunately, the experience around sharing of both international and inter-state transboundary river waters is not all that grim. The Indus Water Treaty between India and Pakistan that emerged out of a process of mediation facilitated by the World Bank is an important example of a working and ‘successful’ resolution of disputes surrounding an international trans-boundary river. The treaty which awarded nearly 80% of the water of the river system to Pakistan and 20% to India has survived three wars between the two countries. It can thus be safely described as a good example of successful transboundary water sharing in a politically volatile region.
The dispute between India and Bangladesh over the Ganges, especially the one surrounding the Farakka barrage, was addressed with the signing of a 30 year water sharing treaty in 1996. This was an important step towards figuring out mechanisms for sharing the waters of other transboundary rivers between the two countries on a mutually acceptable basis.³ And while tensions continue to episodically flare up, they have never reached the level of conflict.
Examples of successful dispute resolution of river waters related to India can be cited not only in the case of international rivers but with respect to inter-state transboundary rivers as well. These include rivers such as the Damodar, Gandak and Subarnarekha. Especially important is the example of a complex multi-basin and multipurpose project such as Parambikulam-Aliyar, where a joint water regulation board was established with members from the riparian states. However, it must be admitted that despite some
examples of successful and mutually beneficial water sharing, the potential for conflict remains.⁴ Rivers such as the Yamuna, Krishna and Cauvery have, for instance, been bitterly fought over.

The Yamuna is the largest tributary of the Ganga and an important source of water for irrigation and urban use in northern India. It drains the North Indian states of Uttar Pradesh, Himachal Pradesh, Haryana, Rajasthan and Delhi. The total present claims on the river add up to more than twice the total water available. In 1954, the waters of the rivers were shared between the states of Uttar Pradesh and undivided Punjab. Uttar Pradesh controls the eastern Yamuna canal whereas Haryana, as a successor state of undivided Punjab, controls the western Yamuna canal.
With increasing demand from the growing and urbanizing state of Delhi, this arrangement soon faced conflicts between Delhi, Haryana and Uttar Pradesh on sharing the waters of the Yamuna, especially during the lean summer months. Matters have often landed up in the courts, including the Supreme Court of India, through the public interest litigation route. With water demand continuing to grow in the basin states, especially in Delhi, the conflicts surrounding Yamuna waters see no signs of abating.⁵
In peninsular India, the Krishna has seen disputes over its waters as well. The second longest river in peninsular India, the Krishna drains the states of Maharashtra, Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh. After the reorganization of the states on a linguistic basis in the 1950s, the 25 year agreement on the Krishna waters signed in 1951 between Bombay, Hyderabad, Mysore and Madras states began to be questioned. The Krishna Dispute Tribunal headed by Justice Bachawat gave its award in 1976 with the states being asked to utilize their respective allocations by the year 2000. This in turn fuelled a frantic a race for utilization of water of the river between the various claimants.

A growing demand and attendant conflicts surrounding the river are exemplified in the problems between Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka over the Almatti dam in Karnataka. Any attempt by Karnataka to raise the height of the dam from its original height of 519 metres to 524.25 metres would have reduced the capacity of the Nagarjunasagar and Srisailam projects in Andhra Pradesh pushing the two states on a path of confrontation. But when Maharashtra, the upper riparian, tried to develop its water allocation, both Karnataka and Andhra joined hands to oppose such a move. We thus witness a complicated process of cooperation and confrontation depending upon contingent self-interest of the different parties. The concerned states routinely complain to the central government regarding water usage by other states, setting the stage for central mediation. With increasing intensity of resource utilization, such conflicts can only escalate as the Krishna river basin is one of the most over-utilized river basins in peninsular India.⁶
The Cauvery in peninsular India too has been a site of cooperation and conflict over a period of time. The regions of present day Tamil Nadu were the first movers in using the water of the river. In the era before the growth of modern dam-building technologies, the Cauvery was not dammed and its waters were only sparingly used in the upland areas of present day Karnataka. Attempts in the latter half of the 19th century by the then Mysore princely state to dam and use the waters of Cauvery river led to protests by the Madras Presidency and the beginning of negotiations between the two, eventually resulting in a treaty signed by the two relevant governments in 1892. This agreement, after placing on record the projects already taken up, stipulated that the Government of Mysore would not initiate any new projects and maintain the status quo.

So when Mysore proposed the construction of the Krishnaraja Sagar dam on the Cauvery, the Madras government challenged the decision of the arbitration committee, under the agreement of 1892. On receiving an adverse judgment from the committee, the Government of Madras took the matter to the Secretary of State in 1919 and managed a favourable response. Soon thereafter, negotiations started between the two governments and a 50 year agreement was reached in 1924, allowing for the construction of the Krishnaraja Sagar dam in the then Mysore state and the Mettur dam in Madras Presidency. It also provided a framework for the development of irrigation in the Cauvery basin.
This agreement was not renewed in 1974, at the end of its 50 year period. This 50 year period saw the intensification of irrigation development in both Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, the successor states of the princely state of Mysore and the Madras Presidency respectively. Increasing intensity of water use, especially for irrigation, led to conflicts. Tamil Nadu, that had enjoyed the first mover advantage with respect to irrigation development, now complained about the increasing use of water by Karnataka, the upper riparian. Tamil Nadu demanded the setting up of a tribunal for resolution of these disputes and sharing Cauvery waters. The Cauvery Water Disputes Tribunal was established in 1990 and gave its awards in 2007, unfortunately satisfying neither side.⁷

The history of inter-state transboundary river water sharing in India is thus characterized by both cooperation and conflict. Water conflicts are of many types depending upon the nature of the contesting parties and contestation involved. The issues pertaining to resolution of conflicts surrounding transboundary rivers are made especially complex because of a lack of adequate legal and institutional mechanisms. Take for instance irrigation, which as a sector consumes more than 80% of all available water in the country; it is listed under the state list in the Indian Constitution.
Entry 17 in the state list in the Constitution of India is important in this regard. It is subject to the provisions of entry 56 of the Union list which enables the central government to legislate on inter-state transboundary rivers. But entry 56 of the Union list is much underused. Article 262 of the Constitution provides a role for the Centre in adjudicating conflicts surrounding inter-state transboundary rivers. The Inter-State Water Disputes (ISWD) Act 1956 has been promulgated under article 262. This act provides for the formation of tribunals for settling such disputes.⁸

According to the provisions of the ISWD Act, a state government can approach the central government to set up a tribunal for adjudication of the dispute. The tribunal is headed by a chairperson with two other members, all three nominated by the Chief Justice of India. At the time of nomination, the chairperson and members have to be judges of the Supreme Court. The tribunal is empowered to appoint assessors to aid in investigation and provide advice in the proceedings. The act mandates that the award of the tribunal is to be published and that its decision is final and binding on the parties to the dispute.
The tribunals set up for settling the disputes surrounding the Krishna, Godavari and Narmada rivers are perceived to have been successful. Nevertheless, their efficacy to settle inter-state transboundary rivers is increasingly coming under question. There have been substantial problems surrounding the tribunals set up to settle the disputes surrounding the water of Ravi-Beas and Cauvery. The awards of both the tribunals failed to resolve the disputes and have led to greater bouts of intense politicking even though the tribunal’s award now has the status of a decree of the Supreme Court of India by virtue of recent amendments to the ISWD Act.
One problem is that the tribunals take time to reach a final settlement. Though the amended Act of 2002 mandates a time limit of six years, it still is a long period of time. In this context, mention must be made of several non-official civil society efforts to address the issue of river water sharing. The Madras Institute of Development Studies (MIDS), Chennai, initiated a process of creating a platform to facilitate dialogue between the farmers of Karnataka and Tamil Nadu in the Cauvery basin. Through the process of dialogue, farmers are developing a better understanding of each others problems and needs and thus reducing the potential for conflict.⁹

We now list some ways to help address issues of transboundary water conflicts. The first path is of an institutional nature. We suggest that a combination of existing institutions, such as the inter-state council, and the creation of new institutions such as river basin organizations, can go some distance in resolving water conflicts. We also need to use some new tools or old tools differently, to creatively deal with conflicts. In this regard, we look at mediation and an alternative approach to scenario building as two possible ways.
Article 263 of the Indian Constitution envisages establishing an Inter-State Council (ISC) with the mandate of enquiring into and advising upon disputes arising between the various states of India, to investigate subjects of common interest amongst the states, and to make recommendations upon such subjects for the better coordination of policy and action. The Inter-State Council was finally established by presidential order on 28 May 1990 as a recommendatory body to fulfil the already mentioned constitutional mandate.
The council comprises of the prime minister of India; chief ministers of all states; chief ministers of union territories; administrators of union territories; six ministers of cabinet rank in the union council of ministers and permanent invitees. Any matter in the Union list, Concurrent list or the state list of the Constitution of India in respect of which there exists a common interest as referred to in clause (a) of paragraph iv of the said order or a need for better coordination as referred to in clause (b) of the paragraph can be considered.
The council provides a forum for discussion on complex public policy and governance issues having a bearing on centre-state relations or with an inter-state dimensions. Because the council is a constitutionally mandated body, and has now built a wealth of experience in dealing with matters that are of common interest to states, it can play a useful role in facilitating dialogue and discussion towards resolving conflicts.¹⁰

There is a need to look at arbitration and negotiation as methods of conflict resolution. One institutional arrangement that can be used to facilitate negotiation surrounding interstate transboundary rivers is the River Basin Organization (RBO). RBOs can be set up under the River Boards Act of 1956 (RBA), legislated under article 56 of the Union list. These are empowered to regulate and develop inter-state rivers and their basins. The board must comprise of members with expertise in fields such as irrigation, water and soil conservation and finance.
But so far river boards have not been established in the country under the provisions of this act, in part because state governments fear that they will intrude upon their authority and power.¹¹ However, given the era of coalition politics, and an increased self-confidence of the states, there is need to take a fresh look at the possibility of setting up RBOs.
Till date seven tribunals have been established to deal with disputes surrounding the water of inter-state transboundary rivers. But they have not always helped resolve the disputes in a satisfactory manner. These tribunals depend upon the legal principle of arbitration. The awards of these tribunals, although supposedly final and binding, have been challenged in the courts. The judicial process is essentially an adversarial process and damages the relationship between the disputants.

In contrast, mediation is a process that employs a neutral person or persons to facilitate negotiations between the disputing parties so as to arrive at a mutually acceptable solution. Mediators should not have any direct interest in the conflict as they both control the process of mediation and its outcome. In actuality, it is the parties or disputants in whom the real power is vested. Mediation is a flexible and informal process and draws upon the multidisciplinary perspectives of the mediators.
In the South Asian context, the World Bank played the role of mediator between India and Pakistan, which resulted in a successful resolution of the conflicts surrounding the rivers of the Indus basin. In the Zambezi river dispute involving eleven countries, the Vatican mediated an agreement to use and manage the river waters jointly.¹² Thus, there is great merit in the proposal to deploy mediation as a tool for conflict resolution and participatory management.

The way scenario building in the water sector usually takes place, it is reduced to a ‘technical’ tool for prediction. Scenario building, however, is not a tool for projection and need not be used as one. It is essentially an imaginative exercise involving political and social choices; as much a tool for action as it is of thought. While undertaking an exercise in scenario building, one needs to take into account the physical qualities of water as a resource. Generally, in exercises of scenario building surrounding water, the current patterns of consumption are taken as a given, based on which various demand projections for future points of time are generated. Thus, this exercise is a projection of current patterns of demands into the future.
We argue that there is a need to look at scenario building completely differently. We need to hypothetically freeze the total available water, or the quantum at current levels of total consumption, for a given region or unit of analysis and build scenarios of alternative usage patterns. Instead of trying to predict the total quantum of water demand at a future date given certain conditions, one must plan as if water and its characteristics as a life-giving resource matter. This will necessarily be a non-technocratic and democratic exercise, since the simulation depends on the social choices that we might want to make if water availability and/or consumption were to be frozen at some arbitrary point in the present. Such an exercise will also help unravel the assumptions we make while making projections, as also help us radically interrogate theories of risk society by positing scenarios as ‘designs’.¹³

Water is increasingly an important site of contestation between states in India because of the rapid pace of economic growth, growing populations and increasing urbanization. The growing importance of forging coalition governments at the national level and the related assertion of regional identities add to the intractability of the problems. More often than not, such issues arise as a result of a focus on demand-side management. Many scholars have argued that supply-side management might be one way of dealing with such issues. While there is merit in this argument, we need to undertake institutional innovations as well.
The suggestion for setting up RBOs and providing a greater role for the inter-state council in dealing with inter-state transboundary rivers needs to be seen in this regard. Given the changing political dynamics in the country, it should not be difficult to convince the states that the relationship between state governments and the Centre need not be a zero-sum game. An increasing role for central institutions in dealing with issues emerging out of sharing the waters of transboundary rivers does not necessarily mean a whittling down of the powers of the states. Second, one needs to creatively use existing tools (such as mediation and scenario building exercises) for managing water resources of inter-state rivers more effectively and democratically.

Footnotes:
1. Ramaswamy Iyer, Water: Perspectives, Issues, Concerns. Sage Publications, New Delhi, Thousand Oaks and London, 2003.
2. Anil Agarwal, Sunita Narain and Srabani Sen (eds), The State of India’s Environment: The Citizen’s Fifth Report, Centre for Science and Environment, New Delhi, 1999.
3. N. Shantha Mohan, ‘Locating Transboundary Water Sharing in India’, in N. Shantha Mohan, Sailen Routray and N. Shashikumar (eds), River Water Sharing: Transboundary Conflict and Cooperation in India. Routledge, New Delhi, 2010, pp. 3-22.
4. Ibid.
5. A. Swain, Struggle Against the State: Social Network and Protest Mobilization in India. Ashgate, Farnham and Burlington, 2010.
6. Ibid.
7. S. Settar, ‘Kaveri in its Historical Setting’, in N. Shantha Mohan, Sailen Routray and N. Shashikumar (eds), River Water Sharing: Transboundary Conflict and Cooperation in India, Routledge, New Delhi, 2010, pp. 99-107.
8. N. Shantha Mohan, 2010, op cit.
9. Ibid.
10. Ramaswamy Iyer, ‘Inter-State Water Disputes Act 1956 Difficulties and Solutions’, Economic and Political Weekly 37(28), 2907-2910, 2002; and N. Shantha Mohan, 2010, op cit.
11. Ramaswamy Iyer, Towards Water Wisdom: Limits, Justice, Harmony. Sage Publications, New Delhi, 2007.
 

Women, micro-finance and peace

VINOD RAI

          

The most fundamental distinction between micro-finance and all other forms of conventional banking is that the core clients of micro-finance institutions are the self-employed and informal enterprises, clients that conventional banking has traditionally excluded. The magic of micro-finance is that it has developed techniques to lend to its members and their enterprises. These techniques are built around several key principles, which are widely known as core best practices in micro-finance:

1. Focus on motivating the borrower to repay through promise of continued access to credit, peer pressure and other collateral substitutes.

2. Approach of granting loan and determining the size of loan based on analysis of existing repayment capacity, or stepped lending.

3. Strong delinquency management systems, including immediate, personal follow-up, staff incentives, and management information systems.

It has been successfully proved that financial services can be effective and powerful instruments for poverty reduction by enhancing the ability of women to increase incomes, build assets, and reduce their vulnerability. At the core of the movement is a fundamental belief that access to financial services protects and empowers the poor by mitigating them from risks and giving them choices. The multiple role of financial services for the poor, parallel the multiple dimensions of the poverty captured in the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs). It is felt that impact of micro-finance is not only on poverty reduction but also on several other MDGs such as achieving universal education, promoting gender equality and women’s empowerment as well as reducing child mortality, improving maternal health and combating diseases.

In this background, it may be mentioned that the micro-finance movement has so far multiplied its lending to a sizeable scale. This signals an urgent need to explore and deploy new delivery mechanisms to complement existing structures and underlines the significance of institutional diversity. However, reaching significant scale will require moving beyond the NGOs model and tapping into selected large banking and financial institutions that have extensive distribution networks already in place, particularly in poorer regions.

With their large regional and national network, cooperatives are already a significant institutional channel for delivery of financial services to low income groups. Experiments with alternate delivery mechanism such as post offices, retail networks of fertilizer shops/agricultural implements, supermarkets, beverage suppliers, and petrol stations have already begun, and may offer additional prospects for reaching out to large numbers. In this connection, the concept of financial services for the poor will no longer be only dominated by microcredit. The types of financial services needed by the poor extend far beyond working capital loans, encompassing an array of savings, credit, insurance and money transfer services. Convenient, safe and secured deposit services are a particularly crucial need.

However, much depends on the extent to which government and other regulatory organizations can create an enabling framework for orderly growth of the micro-finance sector. Depending on their approach, regulators/supervisors can either undermine or encourage the development of micro-finance. The overarching goal of all stakeholders should be to support the development of financial systems that work for the poor. This approach requires that we remove the walls – real and imaginary – that separate a micro-finance community from the much broader world of financial systems, markets and development. It requires that we refuse to accept the status quo, in which it is considered normal for a country’s financial systems to serve only a tiny minority of its population, while the vast majority remains outside the systems.

However, a way out of the above situation is to strengthen the public and private financial intermediaries, particularly those engaged in lending to the unorganized sector. The governments should not get directly involved in providing financial services to the poor. Subsidized and inefficient lending programmes foster a culture of non-repayment on the part of clients and undermine good micro-finance institutions. It should not be encouraged.

As new solutions are found for the delivery of financial products and services to the poor and as these systems become more integrated in the overall financial systems, policy and legal frameworks will need to adapt so that governments can play their appropriate role as facilitators rather than direct providers of financial services for the poor. Our goal in this area should be to:

1. Foster diversity of institutions and financial products through the policy and legal regime that gives them equal treatment and is not biased in favour of one institutional model or product.

2. Establish supportive legal and regulatory frameworks that safeguard poor peoples’ money and promotes competition.

3. Develop the technical expertize of supervisory and regulatory authorities.

The need to regulate is being emphasized for the simple reason that the exposure to micro-finance has become very large. Many poor people have staked their family’s future on the credibility of the movement. Any failure or collapse will not only ruin families but also totally erode people’s confidence in the process. This will be very dangerous. Hence, to deter unscrupulous elements, it is essential that at a nascent stage itself, appropriate checks and balances are put in place.

In general, the government/regulators’ role in micro-finance should be to maintain or create an enabling environment that permits the growth of financial services for the poor and their integration in the broader economy. This can be done by addressing broad legal and regulatory constraints such as cumbersome registration processes, multiple laws, and suitable changes in various acts or framing an altogether new micro-finance act. There is a strong case for changing appropriate interest rate ceilings so that micro-lenders can cover their cost. Licensing rules needs to be adjusted so that financially solid instruments can fund their lending activities with deposits from the public. An important element of the regulatory strategy should be to create a regulatory framework that allows a wide array of financial intermediaries to serve the poor.

In a real case scenario it would be worthwhile to examine the model adopted by SEWA and how it works among women. The motivating factor behind the efforts of SEWA is to organize women workers to obtain full employment whereby they attain work security, income security, food security and minimal health and child care. Attaining such goals would mean that women become independent and self-reliant. Such economic self-reliance leads to independence in decision-making capability and thereby full empowerment.

Women in India have continued to be underprivileged in a large number of ways. The core advantage of the micro-finance movement is that those who are hitherto not entitled for assistance from formal banking channels, could avail the flexible loan products to meet their productive credit needs and timely assistance, even for certain family requirements. This has made an important social contribution.

SEWA has the advantage of its own Shri Mahila Sewa Sahakari Bank. The experience of this cooperative bank is that women who were earlier paying a daily interest of 10%, are now able to make a sizeable earning even at 17-18% rate of interest charged by the bank. The banksathis, as the frontline workers are called, are the strongest link in the chain as they belong to the same community and neighbourhood of the borrowers they assist. The sathi has a certain credibility by already owning a bank account and is also educated. A second link is one between the sathi and bank facilitator.

There is thus a strong bond between the bank, its two facilitators and the women clientele. The cornerstone of such a strong movement, which must have long-term sustainability, is the confidence generated among these elements. The client must feel that the bank and the facilitators empathize with them. Through peer pressure and positive encouragement, the banksathi must inculcate in the mind of the woman borrower the fact that timely repayment of loans enhance her borrowing capacity and thereby provides greater opportunities for increasing business and returns.

It has been a long time serious concern to find successful models which are flexible in their approach towards the requirements of the poor. Central to this is the need for timely resources in the hands of the poor to help them reduce the burden of debt. Policy-makers have been applying themselves to this cause but have not yet been able to find the foolproof delivery system to bridge the credit gap. Ad hoc measures such as loan waivers and interest subsidy do not solve the problem to provide sustainability to people living below the poverty line.

The formal banking mechanism has not provided succour. Direct lending of priority sector sub-targets have also not got to the root of the problem. It was in this context that micro-finance has offered financial services to the poor in a sustainable manner, albeit at higher rates of interest. The remarkable experience in this sector has been the fact that despite the prevalence of relatively high interest rates, the borrowers have consistently been able to retire their debt and enhance their borrowing power.

Another offshoot of this model viz., the SHG-bank linkage programme, has been a remarkable success as it has provided banking at the doorstep, improved their capacity and also ensured peer pressure as a motivation for the borrowers to return loans. Today micro-finance stands as a movement which has helped reduce the incidence of poverty by providing the poor with resources at their doorstep. It has enabled them to channelize spending on education and health care. Child mortality has gone down, school dropout rates have reduced and dependence of households on informal moneylenders has been substantially lowered.

The overall experience of the SHG-bank linkage programme and the setting up of micro-finance institutions has debunked the myth that the poor are chronic defaulters and, therefore, not bankable. Due to collective decision-making and having strength in numbers, the poor, organized in the SHGs, have linked up with mainstream financial institutions. Banks have had a pleasant experience as SHG portfolios have much lower NPAs than many formal borrowers. Since this linkage programme has outreached through an existing structure, the cost has been minimized and a parallel set-up not necessitated.

The main ingredient to the success of the programme has been the fact that the poor and quite often those located in rural areas, have to deal with people of their own community to access funds. In some ways approaching a formal bank branch is psychologically intimidating. This barrier has been overcome through the SHG collectively linking with a bank. To ensure the further success of the movement and thereby providing it sustainability in the long run, MFIs must develop strategies for increasing the range and volume of their financial services to ensure that they price credit at cheaper rates. Government and other private institutions must come forward to separately meet the equity requirements of MFIs so that the debt-equity ratios can be reduced. However, care needs to be taken to ensure that MFIs do not over-leverage themselves and remain within prudential borrowing limits.

I sincerely believe that the poor have the desire and capability to repay. Women among the poor have even a greater willingness, as they see in the movement an opportunity of ending their exploitation and attaining empowerment. By nature, women have closer bonds with their children and given the basic economic necessities, would like to provide the protective umbrella of nutrition, education and basic health care. Their economic independence also ensures that they can withstand the challenge of exploitation once they have the confidence to be able to withstand oppression due to their new-found economic independence. They will resist any attempt at social oppression, family exploitation and the ability to suffer in silence.

Seeing such core strength, the society and in particular the male dominated community, will see a deterrence in the further exploitation of women. Such deterrence leads to a more harmonious family existence and a more cohesive community, thereby bringing about peaceful coexistence. If benefits of women’s empowerment, economic independence and their upliftment have to take place, it is micro-finance linked self-help groups which will bring about the revolution. I have great confidence that a strengthening of this movement will improve the bargaining power of women within the family and in society. The initiatives and support provided by SEWA in this direction are remarkable and need to be replicated in all parts of the country.

WOMEN comprise a sizeable proportion of the world’s poor. Traditionally, they have been marginalized. They face disproportionate gender specific barriers. Women in India seem to earn less than men, have lower levels of literacy skills and face higher levels of physical vulnerability. They have also the responsibility of taking care of their families. They face social and economic discrimination and have little access to credit. Lack of access to credit by women poses an enormous challenge in addressing such inequalities.

Micro-finance is a powerful and effective instrument for poverty alleviation and women’s empowerment. Access to credit gives women an opportunity to overcome exploitation and become self-sufficient. Micro-credit programmes play a crucial role in improving their skills, income and self-esteem. Women are better borrowers, wiser spenders and are more trustworthy. However, women have specific financial needs. Therefore, they need products which are sensitive to their requirements. Innovative, tailor-made credit programmes specially designed for women have a lasting impact on women in developing countries. Micro-finance has not only improved the economic well-being of women in India, but also empowered them. I sincerely believe that economically empowered women in society introduce elements of peace in the community in which they reside. And hence the importance that we attach to this movement and the contribution of institutions such as SEWA.

GANDHIAN VARTHAMANAM (SALSABEEL GREEN SCHOOL, Puttekara, Thrissur.)

Oct:- 5-9: There was a five day camp at this school named Salsabeel Green School, on the topic of Gandhian Varthamanam by Nayaran Desai and some eminent scholars. They were taking class on various topics such as Hind Swaraj, Economy of Permanence, Gender studies, health, education, energy and food security. All of the classes that were presented were of much value. On this occasion, Tibet’s former Prime Minister Samdhong Rimpoche also attended the camp. Manish Jain, co-founder of Shikshantar in Udaipur, India and former UN member also took a topic on de-schooling and education. The registration fee of the camp was Rs. 200 for five days with food and accommodation. Everyday there were discussions and cultural activities about the topics that are discussed on the morning hours.

                There is much to say about the school as the method of training and other studying tools implemented in the school. Salsabeel Green School is a CBSE school. After entering the school, they attend the morning assembly and after that they will remove their shoes outside their classroom. Most classes will be conducted outside the classrooms as the students can receive good refreshments for listening and reading. At dawn, peacocks wander around the school campus and when its mourning, they gets disappeared into the bushes. Students are given same types of uniforms as there is no type of difference between boys and girls. On the final day of the camp, there were cultural activities of the students of Salsabeel Green school, where Adheena presented a drama on Pantham Yenthiya Pennungal (Irom Sharmila).

                Narayan Desai who is the son of Mahdev Desai (Gandhiji’s personal secretary) came along with his son and grandson. Everyday Desai took a continuous 3 hours class on Gandhian Varthamanam. He also brought a Charka where he used to spin on his leisure time. Every day morning, he used to walk at least one hour. He has explained Gandhi’s whole life. His next visit is to Mexico.

After all the camp was a very successful one. Hoping that there will be camp next year too.

Thanks and regards,

Ryjohn Timothy

Mphil Development Studies,

School of Gandhian Thought and Development Studies,

Mahatma Gandhi University. Kottayam

What Anna Hazare’s Movement and India’s New Middle Classes Say about Each Other.

 

 Vinay Sitapati

    

 On 5 April 2011, a 73-year-old man in central Delhi stopped eating. The man in question was Kisan Baburao Hazare, and he was protesting the Congress-led central government’s lacka­daisical attempts to punish those guilty of large-scale corruption. 

1. His specific demand was that “civil society” should have a say in drafting a stringent anti-corruption law, the Lokpal Bill. The government draft was an eyewash, he claimed; outside partici­pation was the only way to ensure an anti-corruption law with any teeth. Hazare, “Anna” to his followers, was by no means the only man on a hunger strike there. But he was onto something. While the government was drowning in a flood of corruption scandals – most prominently, the 2G spectrum allocation controversy and the Commonwealth Games fiasco – Anna Hazare’s perfectly timed protest managed to ride the wave. A throng of civic activists, movie stars, and well-heeled supporters from the urban middle classes took his side.2 Though estimates of its popularity are hard to gauge, it is fair to say that the Anna Hazare movement spread beyond Delhi and to the rest of urban India, which is why the Congress Party soon capitulated. On 8 April the govern­ment agreed that five members, chosen by Anna Hazare, would be part of the Lokpal  Bill drafting committee.

 Neither Anna Hazare’s methods nor the cause were particularly original. Yoga guru Baba Ramdev had previously fasted on the corruption issue; he fasted again soon after Anna Hazare’s fast ended. The move to enact an effective anti-corruption bill also has an old genesis. In the 1960s itself, the idea of the Lokpal was suggested by the first Administrative Reforms Commission. Even before Anna Hazare’s fast, Aruna Roy and other civil society members had been  involved in drafting an anti-corruption law. Besides, as of this essay’s writing, the gains from Anna Hazare’s fast are in peril, with sharp disagreements between government and “civil society” represent­atives on the drafting committee threat­ening to imperil consensus over a Bill. Yet, the fact that the movement got even this far needs explaining.

Who did the Anna Hazare movement

 consist of? The five civil society members on the drafting committee are lawyers Prashant Bhusan and Shanti Bhushan (the latter a former union law minister), (retired) Supreme Court judge and current Lokayukta of Karnataka Santosh Hegde, Right to Information (RTI) activist Arvind Kejri­wal, along with Gandhian Anna Hazare himself. All are middle class icons. Other civic activists include former police officer Kiran Bedi, and religious and spiritual leaders Swami Agnivesh, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar and Baba Ramdev. The foot-soldiers

 of the Anna Hazare movement were educated and urbane. The methods used – Twitter updates, SMS campaigns, candlelight vigils and media management – also suggest that Hazare was able to fire the idealism of 21st century India’s burgeoning middle class.

The Indian middle class is hardly mono­lithic  its economic interests hardly homogeneous. A much cited study put the mid­dle class at 50 million people, roughly 5% of the population.3 More expansive defini­tions show that 62% of all Indian house­holds are middle class. If income is a fickle way of measuring the middle class, focus­ing on middle class “values” can also be treacherous territory. An estimate using higher education as a yardstick made by the political scientist, Devesh Kapur, was that 30 million households, one-eighth of the total population, were middle class in 2010 (Kapur 2010: 147). Another “value”-based definition, by sociologist Andre Beteille, focuses on occupation status and non-manual work (Beteille 2002: 76). From the many studies on the subject, it is possible to tentatively conclude that the Indian middle class comes from varied economic backgrounds, constitutes a relatively small percentage of the population, and is slightly easier to define in terms of “values .

This heterogeneity in income and values results in a variety of intellectual strands within the middle class. Differing middle class activisms thus come with their own visions, constituencies, and methods. The Narmada Bachao Andolan, Justice for Jessica campaign, and PIL activism are all middle class-driven. Yet they differ radi­cally from each other. What was unique about the Anna Hazare movement was that diverse middle class activisms were able to craft a campaign that appealed to all their interests.

This essay presents a typology of India’s four middle class intellectual strands of political activism (Figure 1). Three of them – what I call Gandhigiri, India Shining, and Legal Activism – broadly endorsed the Anna Hazare movement, even if some quibbled over details in the draft law (Table 1). A fourth middle class strand – the Independ­ent Left – decried Hazare; they were lone dissenters within the middle classes. This by no means suggests that theirs was the only critique; but other criticisms of the bill were by lone intellectuals, not repre­sentative of a middle class strand.               

                   

A few caveats: first, this is less a story about class, more an intellectual history. For those unsure of the middle class origins of these strands, the essay still stands – as delineating four intellectual strands of civil society engagement in politics. Second, this essay employs what German social theorist Max Weber called an “Ideal Type”. The point is not that every category is hermetically sealed and all-explaining, but that it is analytically useful. This essay is also limited to political activism of the middle class variety, making no claim to the other mobilisations – dalit movements, to give the most obvious example. I hope that an analysis of middle class intellectual strands as well as the Anna Hazare move­ment creates a virtuous cycle in which the one helps shed light on the other.

     Legal Activism

              

       Two members of the Lokpal drafting com­mittee are the lawyers Prashant Bhushan and his father Shanti Bhushan; a third is former Supreme Court judgTe Santosh Hegde. It is also telling that nationwide revulsion against corruption has been converted into legal text, with debates around clauses and sections. When Anna Hazare was accused of nepotism for appointing a father-son duo, he argued that “At present, the committee needs [legal] experts who can draft a stronger bill”.4 This legal tinge to middle class political engagement first came about in the after­math of the 1975-77 Emergency. It involved middle class litigants and judges who reinterpreted the Constitution to increase the number of those who could access the courts, the grounds on which they could claim constitutional protection against the State, and the

range of remedies available to the courts. I term this “Legal Activism”. That movement, which begun in the early 1980s has now expanded to a point where almost all political questions – the Ayodhya dispute, the 2G spectrum scam, or the appointment of the central vigilance com­missioner (CVC) – find their way to the

Supreme Court.

             The Emergency is crucial to under­standing Legal Activism and the person­alities of the three lawyers on the Lokpal Bill drafting committee. The run-up to the Emergency was a prolonged tussle between the judiciary and Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. The prime minister responded to unfavourable court verdicts by superseding

        judges she did not like. The first superses­sion occurred a day after a politically un­favourable judgment on land reform and judicial review.5 Indira Gandhi superseded the three judges who decided against the State, to appoint a judge who had decided in her favour.6 One of the judges superseded was Justice K S Hegde, father of Santosh Hegde. On 25 June 1975, Indira Gandhi declared an Emergency and suspended constitutional liberties. From the excesses that followed, some within India’s Inde­pendent Left (described later on) learnt that the Indian state must be whittled down. India’s Legal Activists drew the opposite lesson: that a powerful Supreme Court and an elaborate rights infrastructure was the best guarantor against state excess. No one exemplifies this more than Shanti Bhushan. In 1975, Indira Gandhi’s election was struck down by the Allahabad High Court. In his book The Case That Shook India, Lokpal drafting committee member Prashant Bhushan makes the now un­controversial point that this was the casus belli for her declaring the Emergency (Bhushan 1978). The lawyer who argued the case against Indira Gandhi was father Shanti Bhushan. Soon after the Janata government took power in 1977, it was determined to undo the effects of Indira Gandhi’s judicial squelching. They chose Shanti Bhushan as their law minister, and it was in this capacity that he shepherded the annulment of the 42nd amendment and passed the 44th amendment, providing protection to the judiciary and the bed­rock for the activism that was to follow (Rudolph and Rudolph 1981: 3).

Soon after the Janata Party’s reversal of Indira Gandhi’s attempt to squelch judicial activism came two legal innovations. The first was the creation of public interest liti­gation (PIL) as a procedural tool. Any per­son could now file a writ petition on behalf of a disadvantaged group, alleging the violation of fundamental rights by the State. This expanded the power of activists, often prodded by a sympathetic judiciary. The second way was substantive: an expansive interpretation of fundamental rights created a host of “socio-economic” rights that are not explicitly stated in the Constitution. For a sense of how detailed they were: the innovations included the right of pavement dwellers to shelter, the right to clean air, and more recently the right to education – rights that are not explicitly stated as fundamental.

To this arsenal that Legal Activists used to expand their power, the 2000s has given them another. The RTI Act, 2005 provides citizens with the ability to demand infor­mation from the State. Arvind Kejriwal, one of the members of the Lokpal drafting committee, is a prominent RTI activist. In just one year, 2008, the NGO that he runs, Parivartan, analysed 52,000 queries sent under the RTI Act.7

Middle class judicial activism extends beyond class interests. The socio-economic rights of the 1980s and 1990s were aimed at the marginalised. Besides, an array of left activists have built on Legal Activism. One such was the lawyer and former president of the People’s Union for Civil Liberties, K G Kannabiran. He often defended the legal rights of individuals charged with crimes associated with Naxalism. When he met this author in 2005, he narrated an incident in the Andhra Pradesh High Court. He was defending two charged Naxalites in court, and the judge asked him: “Mr Kannabiran, you cite these constitu­tional provisions in your client’s defence. Yet your clients themselves don’t believe in the Constitution. Is that not hypocrisy?” “Your Honour”, Kannabiran replied, “the Constitution is a testament to our values, not theirs; the Constitution does not limit its majesty to only believers. It applies to all.”

Legal Activists bring a unique skill to the Lokpal Bill drafting process: they have done it before. To give just one example, in 1993, after sustained activist litigation, the Supreme Court expanded the phrase “right to life” in Article 21 to include free and compulsory education for all children below 14.8 The financial cost was estimated at between Rs 54,000 crore and 73,000 crore per year for six years (Sitapati 2009). Yet, in 2010, the central government went ahead with The Right of Children to Free and Compulsory Education Act 2010, claiming that it was to further the Supreme Court’s directive.9

Legal Activists are broadly in favour of the Anna Hazare movement, even if they critique the substance of the movement’s version of the Bill and the hysteria of the candlelighters. Legal Activists have little sympathy for elected representatives, seeing the Supreme Court as their way to pass legislation on the sly. In this, they share contempt for elected institutions with India Shining (and even the Independent Left). What many Legal Activists like about the Jan Lokpal Bill is that it converts a popular crusade against corruption into legislation with clauses and sub-clauses which they can debate over. This is also the origin of the biggest criticism that Legal Activists have against the Bill – shoddy drafting, the poor display of legal skill.10 It is a criticism mirrored by The Hindu, whose editorials valued the movement but criticised the “angularities of the civil society version” of the Bill.11 Yet these specific criticisms in no way take away from their broad support for a legal solution to the malaise of corruption. The success of the Lokpal Bill is critically contingent on the Legal Activists involved. India Shining The Bharatiya Janata Party’s catchphrase may have misfired in the 2004 general elections (Pati 2004: 2082-83), but “India Shining” captures a mood and a class that is undeniably true. The birth of India Shining as a middle class movement is closely linked to the opening of the Indian economy, first in the early 1980s when curbs on internal capital were reduced and then in 1991 when foreign capital was allowed to enter India.12 I term this new Indian-middle class, the most prominent foot soldiers of the Anna Hazare movement, “India Shining”. Unlike the BJP’s all-encompassing phrase, India Shining – as used here – believes that corporate India is shining and some of that shine can rub off on India’s decaying state.

The corporate and privately-employed members of India Shining are better under­stood by contrasting it with its predecessor, the Nehruvian middle class. The Nehruvian middle class grew around the Indian state, placed a high premium on education, and was conspicuously austere in lifestyle. India Shining has thrived outside of the State, in the private enclaves of India Inc. A 2005-06 study found that of India’s current middle class, 56-62% is privately employed (Sridharan 2008: 2). Unlike its frugal pred­ecessor, India Shining is conspicuously con­sumptive (Fernandes and Heller 2006: 3), celebrating material wealth and success. Paradoxically for a group so suspicious of the State, India Shining wears its national identity on its sleeve. If the icon for the Nehruvian middle class was the IAS officer,

India Shining icons are Indian companies (Tata, Infosys, Wipro), manned by Indianeducated professionals, that have thrived post-1990. Their simple argument is that if Indians can succeed in building top quality companies, why cannot they rebuild India’s moribund state? India Shining virulently dislikes the political class. This dislike has three causes. The first is governance. India Shining values

clean roads, regular electricity, and law and order – something that is not the forte of

the world’s largest democracy. The second cause is that ever since the silent revolution in which subaltern castes captured state power in the 1960s in south India and the 1980s in north India (Jaffrelot 2002), India Shining has felt disenfranchised from the State. Third, given the widespread inequality in the distribution of economic benefits post-liberalisation, political entrepreneurs have made it a point to play up urban India vs rural Bharat. The result is that “India”looks outside politics to succeed.Much is written about the middle class capture of Indian institutions, whether the media (Fernandes and Heller 2006: 3),Bollywood or even foreign policy (Jaffrelot 2009). There is some truth to this. A good place to gauge what India Shining is thinking at any given point is through the pages of The Times of India. Since the world’s largest English-language daily prides itself in its commercial acumen, it is nimbly in sync with the aspirations of India Shining. The Times of India is also the mirror to the way mainstream English-language newspapers are headed. Whether it is the campaign to bring “Justice for Jessica” or “India against Corruption” exemplified by the Anna Hazare movement, India’s media and film industry increasingly mirror the anxieties of India Shining. The attraction of the Jan Lokpal Bill to India Shining is obvious. India Shining prizes efficiency. Not for them is the abstraction of a politics of dignity. The State is about the delivery of of goods, something which corruption eats at. Since all of India Shining pays income tax, they see corruption as contractual violation, the theft their money. India Shining is also deaf to the two biggest criticisms of the Bill. Since they do not see politicians as legitimate to begin with, the unrepresentative nature ofthe Anna Hazare movement does not trouble them. They are also not worried by an all-powerful Lokpal. Critics see in this a troubling acquiescence in authoritarianism that harks back to middle class support for the Emergency (Vanaik 2002). India Shining is the least self-reflective of all middle class strands. The other three  are aware of their privileged origins and claim to speak for a larger group. But India Shining simply assumes that its interests are shared by all Indians. What they lack in subtlety, India Shining makes up with energy. Many corporate executives have devoted considerable time to the movement. A telecom company volunteered to set up a service in which if a mobile user called a toll-free number, she would then receive free alerts on the movement.13 From mustering up the energy to gather around India Gate to organising money and Facebook pages, the flaws and flamboyance of the Anna Hazare movement presents a psycho-portrait of India’s new middle class: India Shining. Gandhigiri The public face of the movement, Anna Hazare, describes himself as a Gandhian.His social movement, centred in Ralegaon Gandhi’s Phoenix farm and Sabarmati ashram. Many of his campaigns, against alcoholism or untouchability, make the Gandhian connect between social reform and political emancipation. He preaches non-violence, is comfortable with religious idioms (a portrait of Bharat Mata hung behind him while he fasted for the Jan  Lokpal Bill),14 and makes personal probity the centrepiece of the campaign. Yet, while the movement claims Gandhi’s morals and employs his methods, its political vision is as far as can be from Gandhi himself. Ironically, this is what makes it so successful in 21st century India. Understanding this neo- Gandhian activism, “Gandhigiri” is key to understanding the Anna Hazare movement. Two makers of modern India were quick to distance themselves from Gandhi’s idea of a state. As has been well chronicled,Jawaharlal Nehru’s vision of a modern, centralised, powerful Indian state that could bring about both economic prosperity as

well as social justice was anathema to Gandhi’s union of village republics. Gandhi, an early critic of modernity, was disillusioned with the violence and illegitimacy of the State. Independent India is a testament to exactly the reverse impulse: of a centralised state driving large development projects in the name of the greater common good. The other maker of modern India deeply critical of Gandhi was B R Ambedkar, and his criticism was on substance as well as on methods. Ambedkar saw the village as a “cesspool, a den of ignorance, narrowmindedness,

and communalism”, viewing modernity with individual rights as the

sole guarantee of social justice in India. In this, he agreed with Nehru. Ambedkar was also critical of Gandhian methods, arguing in his famous “Grammar of Anarchy” speech before the Constituent Assembly in 1949 that: “...we must abandon the method of civil disobedience, non-cooperation and satyagraha... where constitutional methods

are open, there can be no justification for these unconstitutional methods. These methods are nothing but the Grammar of Anarchy...” (Ambedkar 1949). Yet, Gandhian activism survives at a tangent to mainstream politics in India. To give but the most prominent examples, Vinoba Bhave’s bhoodan movement in the early 1950s, in which owners donated their property to the landless, employed Gandhian methods for land reform. Narmada Bachao Andolan founder Medha Patkar self-identifies as a Gandhian, and both her vision against development and methods of nonviolent protest evoke Gandhian satyagraha. If these movements are any indication, middle class Gandhigiri sees reform as being less about changing structure, more about changing hearts and minds. As historian Ramachandra Guha (2001) put it: “Inside every thinking Indian, there is a Marxist and Gandhian struggling for supremacy”. Since Gandhigiri is motivated by a moral vision, it focuses on the social space rather than the political. Gandhigiri is also attuned to rural transformation. As the social  psychologist Ashis Nandy (2001) argues, the need to re-engage with his mythic rural roots constitutes the Indian’s unsure journey to urban modernity. This ideal type précis argues that Gandhian activism works outside the State, is less interested in corruption, and sees little in common with India’s rising new middle class. Yet, the Anna Hazare movement  does precisely the opposite. I argue that this represents a new kind of Gandhian movement, in which Gandhian techniques (though not ideology) are used to represent urban interests. This is best captured in

the “Gandhigiri” made popular by the film Lage Raho Munnabhai. It combines Gandhi’s moral certitude with his public tactics, leaving out his larger political vision. To the extent the Anna Hazare and his movement are Gandhian, this is how they must

be understood. What makes Gandhigiri so powerful in 21st century India is its compatibility with the agendas of India Shining. In return for the legitimacy and articulation India Shining gets, it provides the foot soldiers and the finances that Gandhians have lacked. It also enables an urban middle class anxiety to gain rural sympathy, in much the same way Mohandas Gandhi converted the elitist Indian National Congress into a peasant-supported mass movement in the 1920s (Chatterjee 1986: 85-131). Independent Left To these three middle class intellectual

strands that support the Anna Hazare movement, a dissenting strand must be

mentioned. This is the Independent Left – unaffiliated with any party – which arose

from party Marxism but is now critical of both its theory and practice. Unlike the

Communist Party of India (Marxist), which has given qualified support to Anna Hazare, categorising the Independent Left is difficult because there is considerable heterogeneity with the strand. At considerable risk of simplification, two variants can be identified, each resting uneasily with the other.The primary one is academic, found in humanities departments in India and the United States.15 The other variant are the

civil libertarians on the left: the Mazdoor Kisan Shakti Sangathan (MKSS), for instance. As widely as they differ on the role of violence and democracy, both variants unite in their suspicion of the State, sympathy for a variety of “consciousness’’ other than class, and sharp criticism of party Marxism. The growth of the Independent Left is linked to the crisis with the Indian Left, culminating in the Emergency. The Emergency destroyed any remnants, in the middle class mind, of the Nehruvian utopia of a modern developmental state – a moment so wonderfully captured by the film Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi. As the political scientist

Rajni Kothari (1984: 216-24) writes, the early 1980s thus saw a period of sustained disillusionment with Indian democracy. If the gaps in classical Marxism were exposed

in the 1970s by the horrors of the Emergency, changing strands in electoral politics also played a role. This period saw the emergence of Other Backward Classes (OBC)

and dalit political movements (Heller 2000: 484-519), in addition to the movement

of Muslims away from the Congress. Marxist thought found it hard to account

for why the marginalised chose to mobilise around identities other than class.

Another reason for the growing popularity of the Independent Left in the middle

class imagination is the emergence of post-structuralist thought within south

Asian studies in the US. Sociologist Vivek Chibber (2006: 378-83) argues that this in

turn influenced the Indian academy. The Independent Left, in both their

original European as well as Indian avatar, are exclusively of the urban, educated, middle classes. In the 1970s, a sizeable middle class attitude in India was Marxist.Today, few in the middle class preach or practise orthodox Marxism. The IndependentLeft, untainted by the compromises of electoral politics and catering moredirectly to contemporary middle class anxieties, is more attractiveAmidst a middle class that vocally supports the Anna Hazare movement, theIndependent Left is a lone voice of dissent.Their first criticism of Anna Hazare’sversion of the Bill is that vesting so muchpolice power in the Lokpal risks misuse.Second, some within the Independent Lef tare suspicious of any activism against

corruption as an attempt to correct stateinefficienciesinstead of looking beyondit. Third, the Independent Left hates India Shining as the selfish ill-informed utterances of a ruthless bourgeoisie. Lighting candles at India Gate is the very picture of glib middle class activism that repels them. 16 Conclusions This essay tells us why the Anna Hazare movement was so potent. It was able to employ Gandhian motifs to popularise an  urban middle class worry that has had, until now, less currency in the rest of India. The strong legal tinge to the movement – and the legal credentials of the

activists in the movement – ensures that it is able to suggest tangible legislative changes in terms of clauses and sections. The energy and acumen of India Shining gave the movement its media-savviness and heft.

PERSPECTIVES

44 july 23, 2011 vol xlvi no 30 Economic & Political Weekly This has some parallels with the Indian national movement where lawyers were able to navigate the tricky path to constitutional democracy, the professional middle class provided organisational skills, and Gandhi was able to spread the liberalism

of the hitherto urban, elite Indian National Congress to the peasantry. The uniqueness

of the movement can also be judged by the public reception to a subsequent fast

by the yoga guru, Baba Ramdev. Neither backed by legal expertise nor by India

Shining’s expertise and media savvy, his movement fizzled out as quickly as it began.

Intellectual Strands The essay also tells us about middle class intellectual strands in 21st century India First, it demonstrates the growing potency o f Legal Activism. The tendency for democracies to convert political problems into legal troubles has been chronicled elsewhere (Hirschl 2004). The 2G spectrum allocation and Commonwealth Games were not plagued by the absence of laws, but by the absence of political will. Yet, the Anna Hazare movement was able to use the groundswell of public outrage these scams generated to present a legal solution. Perhaps, the middle class is most comfortable with the “rule of law” solutions because it circumscribes political discretion – much as the Supreme Court has demonstrated this tension between the rule of law and politics. Second, the Anna Hazare movement tells us that India Shining is the most potent, most effective kind of middle class strand that

exists in India, supplanting the values of the traditional Nehruvian middle class.With the growing economy, it is this middle class that will expand. The challenge for those put off by their self-interest is to convert their enthusiasm into something larger. Third, the movement shows us that far from being a traditional Gandhian of the likes of Vinoba Bhave, Anna Hazare is a neo-Gandhian, employing Gandhigiri. He uses Gandhian motifs and methods, without the Mahatma’s political imagination.

This means that Gandhigiri can be harnessed for the demands of the urban middle class, making it that much more potent, if that much less legitimate. Doubtless, the Anna Hazare movement  tapped into an India weary with corruption, and it is unfair to reduce its support to enclaves in urban India. Yet, the middle class strands supporting the movement give us pause. None of them have any problem with the unrepresentative nature of the movement or the draconian powers given to the Lokpal. No matter how earnest, India’s middle class has yet to view the political class as legitimate, the party system as the main way to achieve programmatic changes. Until that happens, middle class activism will be consciously

set up in opposition to electoral politics, rather than as a potent force within it.

Notes

1 Associated Press, “India: Hunger Striker Claims Victory”, The New York Times, 8 April 2001. 2 For a representative sample of gushing news reports at the time, see Anurag Kotoky and Henry Foy, “Government under Pressure over Anna Hazare’s

Fast”, Reuters, 7 April 2011; Durgesh Nandan Jha, “It’s a Fight to the Cinish for Citizens’ Rights: Anna Hazare”, The Times of India, 6 April 2011.3 The definition they used was based on a disposable income of Rs 1,00,000 to 2,00,00 a year, See “The ‘Bird of Gold’: The Rise of India’s Consumer Market”, Mckinsey Global Institute (2007) available at  http://www.mckinsey.com/mgi/reports/pdfs/india_

consumer_market/MGI_india_consumer_executive_ summary.pdf (viewed on 4th January 2010). 4 Agencies, “Anna Hazare Contradicts Ramdev on Lokpal Bill”, The Indian Express, 10 April 2011. 5 Kesavananda Bharati vs State of Kerala, AIR 1973

SC 1461. 6 The superseded judges were justices J M Shelat, K S Hegde and A N Grover. In the Kesavananda case, all three judges had held that there were basic

features of the Constitution which were not amendable by Parliament. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi appointed justice A N Ray in their place, a judge who had taken Parliament’s side in the judgment. 7 Times News Network, “33% Compliance to RTI

Orders”, The Times of India, 13 August 2010. 8 Unni Krishnan & Ors vs State of Andhra Pradesh,AIR 1993, SC 217. 9 Times News Network, “RS Shows Its ‘Concern’ for Historic Right to Education Bill”, The Times of India, 21 July 2009.

10 Seema Chishti, “Why the Hurry and Do We Really Need More Laws Ask Legal Luminaries Activists”,The Indian Express, 17 April 2011. 11 Editorial, “The Stand-off over Corruption”, The Hindu, 8 April 2011. 12 For the state’s pro-business drift in the 1980s, see Atul Kohli, State-Directed Development (Cambridge University Press), 2004, 277-85. For a general overview, see D Rodrik and A Subramanian (2004), “From Hindu Gr owth to Productivity Surge: The Mystery of the Indian Growth Transition”, unpublished mimeo, Harvard University (http://ksghome.harvard.

edu/~ drodrik/ IndiapaperdraftMarch2.pdf). 13 Seema Chishti, “Jantar Mantar Core Group Lost Out Last Year, Struck Back with Anna”, The Indian Express, 9 April 2011.14 Press Trust of India, “Hazare’s Associates Close to BJP, Says Digvijay”, Deccan Chronicle, 15 April 2011. 15 This attitude was nurtured amidst the ruins of

western Europe in the aftermath of second world war. This disillusionment grew starker after the horrors of the Stalinist state, long seen as the global vehicle

of Marxist thought, were exposed. This intellectual crisis within the Old Left grew to a full blown theoretical response in the gay cafés of Paris with the writings of deconstructionist Michel Foucault. By the time of the student uprisings of 1968, the intellectual Left was moving away from orthodox Marxism to a post-modern, post-structuralist attitude. Two  ideas of the this New Left, constructed in opposition

to the Old Left, had crystalised: a deep suspicion of the modern state, and a move away from Marx’s unsexy focus on just class to the legitimisation of all

kinds of marginalised/subaltern identities. 16 The Independent Left is by no means the only intellectual critique against the Jan Lokpal Bill. The political theorist Pratap Mehta is critical of the movement’s open scorn for electoral democracy (Mehta 2011). This liberal-constitutional position, best articulated by B R Ambedkar’s Grammar of

Anarchy speech referred to in this essay, also holds  fasting to be coercive and anti-democratic. Amongst English-language papers, The Indian Express’ editorials were in line with this view (disclosure: I was previously employed by The Express). Yet this

argument rubs against the middle class grain; it will be representative only when the Indian middle class grows comfortable with the foundational legitimacy of democratic politics. Until then, the Independent Left will remain the Indian middle

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