No democracy, we're Indians

No democracy, we're Indians
Amrita Shah

There is nothing like a taste of local self governance to understand why the practice of democracy cannot but be a flawed matter in India, at least for some time to come. Researchers, academicians and students of political theory - anybody interested in pursuing the thought need not meet with distinguished thinkers or scour the country for data. Just take a look at the workings of a housing society in your city.µI stumbled upon this insight quite by accident. Some years ago, I applied for admission to a small but cosmopolitan co-operative housing society in a Mumbai suburb. My application was not only accepted, I was almost immediately forced to take on the post of secretary in the society. Now why, one could ask, would a position of such responsibility be conferred on a member-novice, someone with no experience or knowledge of administrative procedures, municipal regulations, society bye-laws, and a nodding acquaintance with two of her neighbours? The answer was simple and unflattering: no one else was willing to take up the job. And I soon discovered why.

Part of a secretary's job I learnt, was to be a manager - pay bills, collect dues and so on. The other part was to answer the doorbell. In my naivete I had assumed that decisions were taken collectively and office bearers were meant to merely execute them. What I found was that every member considered it his or her right to land up at my doorstep with problems complaints and demands for instant solutions to whatever it was that was bothering them at that particular moment.µ "Meetings" I would stutter weakly at the member's retreating back, "co-operative society....joint action." I was wasting my time. The concept of majority approval and collective responsibility was a completely alien one.

I complained darkly to an architect friend about feeling like a landlord without any land. "Why are you complaining?" he asked, "it just means you get to exercise more power." "What power?" I asked. "No one will mess with you" he said. "Your parking space will be protected, your landing will be the cleanest, you can get special work, repairs, maintenance, done for you." I thought of politicians and their perks. Of corrupt ministers and licenses. That evening I noticed with pleasure the alacrity with which the watchman jumped to his feet when I went by.

Meetings were another thing. Most times members had to be phoned, reminded and cajoled to attend. After a requisite number had straggled in, usually an hour after the scheduled time, the meeting would begin. And then something strange would happen. Within minutes the atmosphere would change from a disinterested, `let's get this over with' to one charged with energy and passion. Tempers would flare, grown men would burst into tears. The only problem was that the excitability would be over intensely felt grievances of the past - a repair contract given to the wrong person, an illegal extension on somebody's balcony. Attempts to bring the meeting back to more immediate and pressing matters would almost inevitably fail. A couple of times I suggested that we consider legal remedies for our intractable problems. The room fell suddenly silent. People shuffled uneasily. A woman remembered her dinner cooking on the stove, the man from the flat above hers muttered it was time for his prayers. "Forget legal action"someone whispered in my ear, "just write a letter".µ Action. For some reason, it was a concept that seemed to terrify my good neighbours. Once a member blocked access to the electric meters with cans of paint and refused to move them. Another time a member's adopted stray turned wild and scared off the postman. Each time my phone rang off the hook and yet when I suggested a confrontation, everybody backed off. The reason: fear. Over time I learnt something of the scarred history of the society. I learnt who had coveted who's terrace. Who had come to blows with whom and over what. How one member's wife did not get on with another... Whether the society had ever evoked the more active involvement of its members was beyond my means to discover but what I did find was that the petty jealousies and tantrums, and the violent disagreements and fights had layered over each other over the years to create a virtually impenetrable barrier of indifference.

Accompanying that was a firm and unshakeable conviction that actions or decisions could not be ends in themselves but instruments of partisanship. If your vote supported someone then that was evidence of a preference for that person, if your vote went against him it meant you bore him a grudge. It worked the other way round too as in if you had a personal relationship with someone you supported everything that person did and vice versa. The idea of a principle or an overwhelming common good had little chance. I thought of caste alliances and religious affinities and now it makes more sense. Though I wish it didn't.

Concepts of majority approval and collective responsibility were completely alien