The Indian Body Politic [Paradise by the Dashboard Light

Thinking about how to make India a better place while listening to Meatloaf's, Paradise by the Dashboard Light, the long version, adds an interesting tinge to one's thoughts.

There is much in Indian politics that mirrors the desperate groping towards the paradise of the song; the same urgent pleas for, uh, closeness from the desperate suitor; the same equally urgent demands for commitment from the sought.

Seekers of office promise heavenly delights if only the electorate will allow them into the driver’s seat, as it were. Paradise, the Pols aver, is just a touch away. Okay, they admit, in honeyed tones, there may have to be a bit of fiddling around on the way to that paradise, but, it’s all good, everybody is going to go home satisfied. Will it be forever? The harmonic, if slightly plaintive, voice of the body rises in counterpoint. The suitors ignore the question, pressing suit with renewed insistence and ardor. But is this going last, signs of fatigue showing in the harmonics?  The body starts to relax into submission, the desire to be loved and cared for leaking into the narrative. Sensing victory assurances are quick, double timed, the tempo rising with each promise of good days. With one last attempt at maintaining some semblance of self respect, an answer is insisted upon. Let me sleep on it, counters Meatloaf, showing remarkable agility for a being large enough to have its own satellites. Eventually, inevitably, sadly, emotion prevails over reason and the suit is consummated, 

Interestingly, to me at least, the satisfied sounds at the end of the song are all from Meatloaf, her defeated insistence for an answer drowned by his triumphant conclusion

reasonable questions

I’m thinking that India needs more lawyers, trial lawyers, to report the news. They know how to ask uncomfortable questions and insist on an answer.

Take the episode of the Party in Power (PiP) politician who took physical umbrage at the quality of the food he was getting at subsidized prices. In a shocking display of the way he was raised, the gentleman (by statute) attempted to force feed the protesting server tasked with the responsibility of dealing with unhappy diners. This after having publicly, on camera, decried the food stuff as being unfit for man or beast. A representative of the people, sworn to uphold the rights and the dignity of his constituents, used physical force to augment his opinion. Captured on tape, that example of the arrogance of power ruled the news channels. Points of view were sought; spokespersons of every political color voiced, shouted, their opinions, often simultaneously. The political satrap was asked to explain his behavior. He claimed innocence and purity of motive. Much valuable air time was spent exploring the communal – read, racist – over and undertones of his motives and actions. Emotions ruled the hour. Justifications, denials,  equivocations, spin, had the air-waves humming.  Eventually, of course, everyone went home to bed, strangely satisfied, ideological underpinnings undamaged, and the salient point unexplored; do we or do we not believe that all men are equal with rights and dignities on par with any in the land?

Me? I’m still wondering how a democratically elected person thought that it permissible to invade the personal space of a fellow, theoretically anyway, citizen without that citizen’s approval and consent. As far as I know that is the law, in any democratic system. As far as I know unwanted touch is actionable and the perpetrator can be brought to book and reparation. I know for a fact that in the US that unfortunate episode was, is, a fat payday for the target of the Misuse of Power by an elected official with a dash of Threat and Physical Intimidation as icing. Official arrogance can be quite expensive.

I kept waiting for someone to… no, wait, there were voices, lawyer type voices that did try to make that point, but were drowned about by the more emotive issues. They, the lawyer type voices, poor souls, were probably more used to the civilized methods of argument used in trial. Just as much invective, bile, and emotional ugliness, but one that insists that a question be answered and the holes in the response explained. Reason is sought, with emotion and motive mere garnish.

A trial lawyer reporter would have made that his/her first avenue of enquiry. The whole roza, communal fandango would have been recognized as the distraction that it is.

Walking the Talk

India’s Prime Minister, Sri Narendra Modi, or BigMo  (for Momentum), is, to all appearances, Walking the Talk. Corruption – check, Development – check, Infrastructure – check, Emancipation for Corporations – cheq…check.  There is much activity and motion in the machinery of governance. Wheels are turning, albeit with no small amount of rusty groans. Files are being closed, lubricated by fear of professional and public consequences, replacing the hitherto indispensable WD40 of file movement, money. People-, Citizen-, Mango People – oriented programs are bursting with green shoots. Newspapers are replete with portraits of well-fed, well-clothed middle-class mangoes beaming with satisfaction at Budgets that sop up their territorial fears with the refrain happy days are here again.

All to the good, no doubt; India has been governed by the Talking the Talk is More than Enough folks for far too long.

But, the things that BigMo didn’t, has not, talked about are beginning to get worrisome. For instance, Mr. Modi has not made any mention of the role of particularized morality in governance. He has not categorically stated, (as he has on corruption, et.al), that religiosity is a private matter and has no place in public administration. He has not had a quiet word with the young lions in his government A result of that is, revisionist governors of dubious intellect and incomplete information are able to thump legislative tables and demand restrictions on swim-wear. Others, in the mode of Sarah Palin, and irrespective of party affiliation, feel free to blame cell phones for rape and demand legislation to curb access and use. Still others, party loyalists and fellow travelers, are emboldened into pouring vituperation and bile on bloggers who wonder about clay, feet, and idols. Across the nation religion and religious teachings are becoming the reason (hah) and the rhyme of rules and ordinances; almost as if the whole saffron clad lot of them stride the halls of power proclaiming, “He didn’t say we couldn’t, so we’re gonna, neener, neener, neener.”

Mr. Modi, sir, wonder if I could ask to have a word with those folks when you get back from Brazil. Or, at the very least, give your very able lieutenants the okay to talk some sense into the right wing of your party. After all, I have heard you say, the welfare of all the people is your concern in your new hand at the till speech. I’m not sure your myrmidons heard you. I am also assuming that your silence on stifling the voices of dissent is an over sight and not tacit approval.

rough shod robber-barons

I wonder if there is something inherent in the democratic process that insists that the society go through a robber-baron phase. 

The headlines about politicians, their kin, their dog-walkers, running rough shod over constitutionally guaranteed rights and constitutionally mandated responsibilities, remind me of the US headlines of the early 20th century, or even earlier actually. Wealth, usually accrued by less than legal, or even moral, means, brought with it proximity to the servants of the People. A negligible investment of money here, a touch of muscle there, and next thing the robber barons were the political leaders, with red, white, and blue bathis on cars that they lent to their kin, and occasionally the dog-walker. Post WW2 there was a cleansing of the system by men, and women, of goodwill, sustained by the anger of an increasingly better informed middle class who started demanding better of their representatives, and, in the main, getting it. Social consciousness, rights and their counter balance, responsibilities, dignity and respect for the human condition, became necessary attributes for any political aspirant to have. Watch was kept on them and they were made accountable for not only their own actions but also that of the dog walker in their employ. [I hasten to add that I do not believe that the system remained clean. The Religious Right Posse, unleashed by Ronnie and his Merry Men took care of that little hitch in the get-a-long of the Oligarch’s march; although, I must also add that there is a valiant, and with any luck, ultimately successful, opposition.] It took that democracy, made up of good-hearted and generous mang…uh, apple-pie folks pretty close to 150 years to get to a place that could control the Powerful. Perhaps because there is just so damn much unbounded real estate there. NIMBY simply meant that you hitched up the wagon and moved further into the big empty. Not so easy to do on real estate that is 1/3rd the size with 3 times the population.

And yet, in only 60, quite odd, years, and in many ways, India is far ahead in this, ‘We the People’, inclusion, tolerance, social consciousness business. Women have been, officially at least, been enfranchised right from the get go. Minorities, again on paper, have never been considered as 2/3rds of a human being. The separation of church and state is a constitutional mandate, without the intervention of a Supreme Court, all very laudable and praiseworthy. 

And then, we go ahead and make a virtue out of worshipping power.

Power is seen as a divine gift to the worthy, to use as they see fit.. We insist, while currying favor, on touching the feet of the Powerful, practically inviting a kick in the face. We are quick to call sportsmen god and build houses of worship to them. The term ‘god-men’ is not heard for the oxymoron that it is. Worship ought not to be equated with respect, and yet, that is what we do, publicly, with garlands of money. Quite disgusting, that is. 

Worship, ought to be a private act. Displays of power need to be exposed as the bad manners that they are. Acquiring a barony by robbing the commoner leads to Robin Hoods and Robin Hoods eventually lead to naxalism. Flaunting power and position by barons and their myrmidons disrespects and dispossess the rights of us mango folk. Quite often, too often, those rights are the only possession we have. Respect the position, by all means, but do not equate respect and worship. India needs to let her political satraps know that they will be held accountable for word and deed. They must be assured that misuse of their powers will have consequences. They must be held responsible for the actions of the misbehavior of their sons and sycophants. Courtesy needs to be incorporated into their Official oaths permitted.

I also believe in the Easter bunny, tooth fairy, and that the earth is flat.

dogs and governance

The things my dogs have taught me about governance, of self, if nothing else.

1. The importance of a common language. -- I think I can safely say that neither my dogs nor I were born speaking each other’s language. But we did communicate with each other, effectively. There was no doubt in my mind that my dogs were pleased at my return from an absence. The younger, more energetic ones had to be acculturated into curbing their enthusiasm; all wagging hind quarters, face rubs, soft excited yips, exhibited with due regard for my home-coming rituals. My vocalizations in human, they heard in dog; the vocalizations, no doubt, a not always melodic sound-track to my body language. To underline the obvious, dogs use their bodies to communicate, a lot, like a lot, lot. I’m reasonably certain that my grammar, intonation, pronunciation and syntax, in dog were not up to their standards. I’m absolutely certain that they, the dogs, made allowances and met me half way; allowing me to put down the milk, loosen collars, belts and the constraints of public behavior. The older, more secure ones, more relieved than pleased, communicated their satisfaction in less energy intensive ways, they settled more comfortably into their naps. No raised voices. No threats of violence. No personal spaces invaded, inadvertently or otherwise. Boundaries respected, gracefully. Governments, social groups, Religions, hell, couples and parents, need to learn from that.

2. Love is not unconditional, (neither is hate, actually, now that I think about it) – In fact, it is a motivator for conditions. My dogs loved me because I provided them with security, sustenance, and leadership in a clement atmosphere. In return, they used their abilities to protect my sleep, be my early warning system and provide me a furry scruff of the neck to bury my face in when necessary. In short, conditions. Value given for value received. No hidden charges and all cost over-runs subject to discussion and compromise. No pooping or peeing in the house and in return I forgive, and clean up, the occasional ill considered, indigestible, snack, yellow-green slime and all, without recrimination, some grumbling allowed. 

3. Rules and structure are necessary for social amity. – Otherwise you have dogs who have not earned the right hogging the most comfortable place in front of the TV, dogs using might to grab the meatiest bone, dogs cutting willy-nilly into the ear-scratch rotation. All of which can lead to resentment and social unrest, which when combined with powerful, crushing jaws and teeth, can get very messy indeed. This was not easy for an anarchist hippy to learn. But then political entities are not, by definition, anarchists, are they? So it ought to be relatively easier for Them.