Immature Republic

“The effect has left me no time
To wonder about the cause.”
From Bachchoo Benighted

Republic Day in Pune when I was but a college boy was an occasion for solemn celebration. It was a holiday from lectures but there were always parades, gatherings, addresses and speeches.
It was 1962 and my extended family household accommodated my 83-year-old grandaunt, my late grandmother’s elder sister, who was virtually bedridden and spent her days sitting on the veranda in her gown and observing the traffic and concocting gossip from the comings and goings of the neighbourhood houses. She didn’t miss many details and would count the minutes that the woman who bought waste paper and empty bottles spent inside the premises of the naughty Parsi priest who lived in the house across the street. She would, with pretended innocence, say, “His wife went out and he called that woman into the house. He must have a lot of waste paper and bottles to sell, because she stayed at least half an hour.”
So on Republic Day of that year my sister was delegated to prepare a speech with some patriotic content for college. She dressed in what was her best saree for the occasion and as she stepped out that morning our grandaunt called out to her.
“Whose wedding is it?”
“It isn’t a wedding, Aalaa Masi,” my sister said. “I’m going to address the whole of our college.”
“Address them for what?”
“Don’t you know it’s Republic Day?”
“What’s that?” our grandaunt asked.
“You know, when we, I mean our country finally became a republic — when the British finally left us…”
Aalaa Masi was genuinely astounded.
“What?? The British have left? No one told me!”
So here was one citizen who, 15 years after Independence, hadn’t been affected by the momentous historical change. She was blissfully unaware that we had kept our tryst with destiny.
I wonder if I was, in my school days, fully aware of the difference between Independence Day on the 15th of August and Republic Day on the 26th of January. I can vaguely remember that my dad explained the distinction. One was the day we got to govern ourselves and the other was the day when we severed all connection with the monarch of Britain and adopted a President as our constitutional head. The Captains had departed and it was now the turn of the Kings.
Emerging from under the wings of kings had in Europe and in America been momentous and not very peaceful occasions. The declaration of a republic in England by the Cromwellian rebellion was effected by chopping off the head of Charles I. In France, the republic was declared after a revolution and a bloodbath of royalty and nobility under the guillotine.
The American colonies declared their republic after a war of independence against the forces of George III.
India, which became a republic after a long struggle which we still boast, was under the guidance of the Mahatma, non-violent. The king was replaced by a head of state who had all the titular respect of the Constitution but, as with the kings and queens of England for several generations, no real power.
India’s transition to republicanism is constitutionally established but the tradition of ruling dynasties has not been completely erased. We have virtual royal families, people whose bloodline is accepted by parties and people as adequate qualifications for nomination to the highest offices. This tendency, which amounts to a historical immaturity of India’s democracy, holds true at the Centre and in the states where sons, daughters, grandsons, granddaughters, nephews and nieces of a clan lay claim to leadership and office and have their claim unquestioningly recognised.
In that sense, though perhaps to a lesser extent, this immaturity of democracy bedevils the US, too. The Kennedys established themselves as the kings and queens of Camelot. Bobby may very well have succeeded to the presidency, following John F. after an interregnum. Another Bush and another Clinton may well stand for the highest office and may indeed occupy the White House.
It doesn’t happen to that extent in the older democracies of England, France, Germany or Italy. Mark Thatcher would more likely serve a term in Pentonville prison rather than in 10 Downing Street. The idea that Cherie Blair could become a power in the land or that Berlusconi’s mistresses could become parliamentarians is ridiculous — or perhaps in the latter instance not that far-fetched a possibility.
There are other deep immaturities in Indian democracy which paradoxically make it unique and can even be counted among its strengths. The most obvious is the reliance on “votebanks”, the by-and-large guaranteed support of sections of an electorate through the membership of a caste or religion. Sometimes this can be seen as a strength. In the obvious case, dalit votebanks with large numbers elect a dalit to the chief ministership of a state, hoping to advance their castes in material and social terms.
That a determined anti-dynastic principle seems to be at work in some Indian political formations and parties should be welcomed. One may, of course, prefer the dynastic principle to some of the choices offered to the electorate through the action of ideological politics.
One hears, for instance, that the Congress Party is quite likely to select a member of the Nehru-Gandhi family as its next leader and that Narendra Modi is making a strong bid to become the leading parliamentarian and thence prime ministerial candidate of the BJP.
Not having a vote in India, I don’t suppose I should express any preferences if the contest should end up being Rahul or Priyanka vs Narendrabhai. (Despite not having a Green Card, I was openly for Obama last November.) My only reservation, apart from other judgments about his past record, is that if Narendrabhai prevails he may impose an alcohol ban on the nation and that would not get my vote. Or will we Persons of Indian Origin (or PIOs) be exempt?