Writing the Roger Federer story

What all does the Age of Roger Federer encompass? Is it about him alone? In a career that has gone past his incredible rivalry with Rafael Nadal and, as we saw this week in the Australian Open, that now adds a distinct shine to Novak Djokovic’s current dominance, Federer has lifted the profile of his sport in ways we are yet to fully articulate[aa'tik-yu,leyt(express,कहना)]. He is the greatest, and a significant measure of his greatness lies in pulling into a higher orbit tennis players who’d defeat him. Would Federer have been considered as exceptional had he been playing in another time? Definitely. Would Nadal’s failure to get his career back to its earlier trajectory been as heartbreaking if he had not been the other half, the Rafa-Roger world number one-two ranking for so long? Or would Djokovic be held in as much awe if he had the same winning record without having pulled past Federer and Nadal? Both unlikely.

Writing about Fed

However, writing about Federer can easily become a self-indulgent exercise, and perhaps we must await a memoir from him of the order of Andre Agassi’s Open to truly understand him. Till then, we have inadequate[in'a-di-kwut(insufficient,अपर्याप्त)] attempts like William Skidelsky’s Federer and Me: A Story of Obsession, a book so self-indulgently obsessive that it’s mesmerising till you soon snap out of it, as you inevitably[i'ne-vu-tu-blee(necessary,आवश्यक)] will.

It takes a writer of the calibre of Simon Barnes to put our collective obsessiveness about Federer, even in this latter part of his playing life, in perspective. He writes in A Book of Heroes: Or a Sporting Half-Century: “Even if someone were to come along and beat his record in terms of numbers, it is unlikely that they would do so by means of such beauty and artistry, such style. Federer really is the greatest of all time. It is not necessary to worship him as a god: but a certain amount of deference[de-fu-run(t)s(respect,सम्मान)] is — well, therapeutic.”

Perhaps the easier, make-do way to get a measure of him is, in fact, by examining him along with the competition — as the journalist L. Jon Wertheim did in his book, Strokes of Genius: Federer, Nadal, and the Greatest Match Ever Played. The match was, of course, the Wimbledon final of 2008, remembered as much for the tennis as for the way it changed the course of both careers. Nadal would go on that summer to displace Federer as world number one, and take the tennis singles gold at the Beijing Olympics.

The Federer excuse

“It takes a writer of the calibre of Simon Barnes to put our collective obsessiveness about Federer in perspective. ”

But the book I find myself returning to after binge-watching sport is Here and Now. Paul Auster and J.M. Coetzee had written letters to each other between 2008 and 2011, clearly for eventual publication, discussing whatever was top of the mind for them at the particular moment. For readers of literary fiction, the book is obviously special. But it’s one that should be recommended to all sports fans, particularly those like me afflicted with low-grade guilt at spending all that time in front of the television set. Writes Coetzee: “Like you, I think that watching sport on television is mostly a waste of time. But there are moments that are not a waste of time, as would for example crop up now and again in the glory days of Roger Federer… I scrutinise[skroo-ti,nIz(examine,जाँच)] such moments, revisiting them in memory — Federer playing a cross-court backhand volley, for instance. Is it truly, or only, the aesthetic[ees'the-tik(artistic,कलात्मक)] , I ask myself, that brings such moments alive for me?… I have just seen something like the human ideal made visible.”
In response, Auster, ever ready to be persuaded by Coetzee on anything, writes: “As for the exaltation[eg-zol'tey-shun(ecstasy,उमंग)] you talk about when watching Federer in his glory days, I am in total accord with you.”

But Auster had been encouraged down that sport-is-a-waste-of-time line earlier. Coetzee had spent most of a Sunday watching the third day of an Australia-South Africa Test match, “emotionally involved” in the game. And: “In order to watch the game I put aside the two or three books I am in the middle of reading.” Cricket, he explains to his American friend, has been played for centuries, and in all those matches over the years it was likely that the contest that particular day had been approximated in another match some time, somewhere. Whereas each good book is something new. So he asks Auster: “Does any of this sound familiar to you? Does it strike a chord you recognise? Is sport simply like sin: one disapproves of it but one yields[yee(-u)ld(output,देना)] because the flesh is weak?”

Of course it is not. But it a good standard to hold the great sportspersons against — that their exploits amount to something more than entertainment. Call it the Federer Standard.

Courtesy:the hindu

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Deepening the French connection

President François Hollande’s visit is the fifth such by a French leader to have been honoured as the chief guest at the Republic Day, more so than any other country. Equally significant, this was his second state visit (the first was in 2013), a trend that was started by his predecessor, Nicolas Sarkozy, who was chief guest at the 2008 Republic Day and returned for another state visit in 2010. With corresponding visits by Indian Prime Ministers, this annual summitry highlights the expanding areas of cooperation and convergence between the two countries.

In recent years, India has entered into more than three dozen “strategic partnerships”, but France remains the original one. President Jacques Chirac had a long-standing interest in India and undertook three visits to India, in 1976, 1998 and 2006, the only leader to have been chief guest at the Republic Day twice, first as Prime Minister in 1976 and then as President in 1998. The second visit saw the establishment of the “strategic partnership” which was tested months later in May when India conducted a series of nuclear weapon tests. France was the first major power to open a dialogue with India. Within weeks, Brajesh Mishra (accompanied by the writer) was in Paris as Special Envoy of Prime Minister Atal Bihar Vajpayee. We were received by Mr. Chirac, who not only gave us a patient hearing, but also responded with a keen appreciation of India’s security predicament[pri'di-ku-munt(worst situation,दुर्दशा)] arising from the unbridled[ún'brI-duld(uncontrolled,अनियंत्रित)] nuclear proliferation that had taken place in our neighbourhood. He designated Ambassador Gérard Errera as the interlocutor[in-tu'lók-yu-tu(middleman,वार्तालापि)] and the dialogue grew in scope as the French focussed on developing an understanding about our perceptions while they shared their thinking about the Balkan conflict, the risks of U.S. triumphalism and the worries about a resurgent nationalism in Russia.

Robust strategic partnership

This is the strategic dialogue that became institutionalised at the level of the National Security Advisers. The agenda has also expanded to include counter-terrorism, intelligence sharing and cyber-security issues, in addition to the original nuclear, space and defence related matters. The 57-paragraph-long Joint Statement covers these and also a wide range of other areas of cooperation — climate change and sustainable development, economic cooperation, urban development, human resource development, heritage preservation and cultural cooperation.

The terrorist attacks last year, on the Charlie Hebdo office in January and at multiple locations in Paris in November, have changed the way France looks at global terrorism. There is a realisation of vulnerability[vúl-nu-ru'bi-lu-tee(weakness,कमज़ोरी)] on account of the alienation in the French Muslim community. Radicalisation and the growing appeal of the ideology of global jihad is a real threat. This resulted in a standalone Joint Statement on counter-terrorism which seeks to do away with the caste system in terror strikes. If New York, London and Paris were horrific, so must Mumbai, Beirut and Nairobi be, and the statement makes that point effectively. It underlines the need for a comprehensive approach, removes any distinction between al-Qaeda and the terrorist groups targeting India like Lashkar-e-Toiba, Jaish-e-Mohammed and Hizbul Mujahideen, calls on Pakistan to bring to justice the perpetrators[pur-pu,trey-tu(culprit,अपराधी)] of the Mumbai attacks and calls for a dismantling[,dis'man-tu-ling(break,विखंडन)] of sanctuaries and safe havens in Pakistan’s border areas that can destabilise Afghanistan.
A push has been given to the Jaitapur nuclear plant negotiations by seeking to conclude these by the end of 2016, coupled with the affirmation that there will be six European pressurised reactors which should help in bringing the cost to below $5 billion for each reactor. To mark 50 years of India-France space cooperation, new projects for cooperation between the Indian Space Research Organisation and the French government space agency, Centre national d’études spatiales (CNES) have been announced, dealing with environment and weather monitoring, mapping of water resources and a joint Thermal Infrared Earth observation mission.

The implementation of the announcement made during Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s visit to Paris last April about the decision to purchase 36 Rafale combat aircraft in a flyaway condition, has been taken forward by signing a memorandum of understanding (MoU) which freezes the technical parameters, weapon payloads and lifetime servicing and spares needed. It is expected that the negotiations of the financial terms will be concluded in coming months. More significant are the joint ventures (JV) proposed to be set up between private sector entities in both countries that can provide a much needed boost to “Make in India” in defence. This should give greater content to the Agreement on Defence Cooperation, originally signed in 2006 and now extended till 2026, providing a framework for cooperation in defence production, research and development and procurement of defence materials.

Among the emerging areas of cooperation are homeland security, cyber security, special forces like the National Security Guard and its French counterpart GIGN, and intelligence sharing to tackle the common threats of terrorism and global criminal networks. Closely linked are concerns about Internet governance, surveillance by external powers and the dominance of U.S. companies in this field. Maritime security in the Indian Ocean region is another sector ripe for greater cooperation, given French presence by virtue of its territories (the Reunion Islands) for maintaining safety of sea lanes, tackling piracy and enhancing maritime domain awareness.

Business and educational ties

Cooperation in “strategic” areas is growing and the government-to-government relationship is the principal driver for this. Two areas that have been lagging are economic and trade relations as well as the people-to-people exchanges. The Hollande visit has sought to fix these by announcing a range of new measures. Bilateral trade between the two countries has been languishing[lang-gwish(fall,गिरना)] at $8 billion, well below potential. French foreign direct investment has picked up and there are more than 800 French enterprises operating in India. These include industry leaders like Alstom, Airbus, Schneider, Alcatel, Total, BNP Paribas, L’Oréal, Renault, Sanofi Aventis, Veolia, Engie (GDF Suez), Thales, Vinci, etc. Capgemini, an IT major has a large workforce in India. With a large number of MoUs signed in sectors like urban development, solar energy, sewage and sanitation, urban transport including railways, water supply and entertainment, there appears to be a determined effort to make the business-to-business link more robust.the Smart Cities initiative is a good move in this regard. Nagpur, Chandigarh and Puducherry have been identified as three cities where French technical assistance and funding has also been promised. However, the challenge will be to develop viable public-private partnerships that can generate long-term funding and also make the projects self-sustaining in the long run.

An attempt has also been made to energise the people-to-people relationship by focussing on educational exchanges and skill development which creates a resource pool as Indo-French JVs generate greater employment opportunities. The number of Indian students going to France annually is 2,500 while the number of Chinese students is 10 times larger. Allowing larger number of French youth to intern in enterprises in India and easing visa norms for Indian students to work for two years after completing their education in France are steps in the right direction. Linkages between educational institutions need to be built up as more and more French institutions begin to offer bilingual courses.

“Cooperation in “strategic” areas is growing and the government-to-government relationship is the principal driver for this.”

Traditionally, the people-to-people relationship has been driven at the elite level of artists, musicians, dancers, writers and film-makers as eminent[e-mu-nunt(superior,उत्कृष्ट)] Indians in these fields have engaged with their French counterparts, but at a popular level, it lacks a buzz. Out of seven million foreign tourists visiting India annually, the number of French tourists is less than 3,00,000! Direct air links between India and France are a fourth of those between India and Germany. An Indo-French Centre for the Promotion of Advanced Research has been in existence for nearly three decades but limited budgetary resources hamper its activities. It needs to be restructured to permit it to raise resources from Indian and French industry; for this, the scope of projects needs to be broadened. Cultural festivals have been a regular feature but events need to be planned outside the metropolises, taking local calendars into account.
The strategic relationship between the two countries has developed over the years generating a sense of comfort between the relevant government agencies. What are needed are initiatives that can strengthen business-to-business linkages and people-to-people contacts which can, in turn, provide a broader underpinning to the overall bilateral relationship. The Hollande visit has rightly sought to focus on these sectors. If these can be effectively implemented, it will help establish a more balanced relationship between the two countries, with overlapping networks of stakeholders from all sections in both societies.

Courtesy: the hindu

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The basics for free speech

Through a most pernicious[pu'ni-shus(harmful,नुकसानदायक)] act of judicial fiat, in a judgment delivered on December 23, 2015, Justice A.B. Chaudhari, sitting on the Nagpur Bench of the Bombay High Court, issued notice to the Booker Prize-winning writer Arundhati Roy for committing what he believed constituted a clear case of criminal contempt of court. The decision was rendered[ren-du(give,देना)] on an application for bail by the Delhi University professor, G.N. Saibaba. Not only did the court reject Dr. Saibaba’s plea, in spite of his substantial disabilities, it also hauled Ms. Roy up for writing in support of the professor, and in criticism of the Indian state, including the country’s judiciary. In initiating contempt proceedings, Justice Chaudhari’s judgment has exemplified the state of the right to free speech in India — a liberty fractured by colonial vestiges such as the law on contempt, which we have embarrassingly embraced as a supposed necessity to uphold the majesty of our courts.

The conventional defences adopted in favour of the judiciary retaining powers to punish acts of contempt invariably point to the Constitution. Article 19(1)(a) no doubt grants to the country’s citizens a right to freedom of speech and expression. But the ensuing clause, Article 19(2), limits this freedom, and accords the state the express authority to make laws that establish reasonable restrictions on speech, on various grounds, including contempt of court. When in 1971, Parliament enacted the Contempt of Courts Act, with a purported view of defining and limiting the powers of courts in punishing acts of contempt, it was the inherent constraint in Article 19 that it took refuge under. But this statute is neither reasonable nor in keeping with the fundamental mandates of a legitimate government.

Contempt’s broad contours

Broadly, the 1971 law recognises two common forms of contempt. First, it defines civil contempt to include, among other things, a wilful disobedience of a court’s judgment, order or direction. And second, it defines criminal contempt to include publications that do one or more of the following: (a) scandalise or lower the authority of any court; (b) prejudice or interfere with the due course of any judicial proceeding; or (c) interfere with or obstruct the administration of justice in any other manner.

As is evident, there are clear divisions between different types of contempt. Some of these categories are more obviously justifiable as offences. For instance, the court’s power to punish acts that tantamount[tan-tu,mawnt(equivalent,बराबर)] to disobedience of its orders, or indeed a court’s inherent authority to ensure that its hearings are conducted in a fair and undisturbed manner, is required to ensure that we subscribe to a basic rule of law. But the idea that the judiciary can also punish acts that have very little to do with the actual administration of justice and all to do with the impact of speech on the institution’s supposed reputation in the eyes of the public is substantially more problematic. Notably, the power to punish acts which ostensibly[ó'sten-su-blee(apparently,प्रकट रूप से)] scandalise or lower the authority of the court speaks not to the majesty of the institution, but to an ingrained sense of insecurity, coupled with an almost despotic[di'spó-tik(undemocratic,निरंकुश)] view of its own infallibility, that the judiciary seems to possess. In a democracy, properly understood, it’s difficult to locate any justification for thwarting[thwor-ting(preventive,निवारक)] speech at the face of the judiciary, notwithstanding the fact that contempt of court is one of the explicitly spelled out restrictions to the guaranteed right to freedom of speech under the Constitution.

During the course of drafting the Constitution, there was, writes the lawyer Gautam Bhatia in his new book, Offend, Shock, or Disturb: Free Speech under the Indian Constitution, “a marked uncertainty among the framers about the understanding of contempt they were inserting into the Constitution”. When T.T. Krishnamachari suggested the inclusion of contempt of court as one of the permissible limitations to free speech, he was met by members who were passionate in their opposition to the category’s inclusion. One of these challengers, Pandit Thakur Das Bhargava, believed that contempt of court was simply not germane to a discussion on freedom of speech and expression. In his understanding, powers to reprimand['re-pru,mãnd(rebuke,डाँटना)] contempt concerned only actions such as the disobedience of an order or direction of a court, which were already punishable infractions. Speech in criticism of the courts, he argued, ought not to be considered as contumacious[kón-t(y)û'mey-shus(stubbornly disobedient,विद्रोहात्मक ढंग से)] , for it would simply open up the possibility of gross judicial abuse of such powers. Almost none of the responses to Bhargava in the Constituent Assembly met his core argument: that the guarantee of free speech in a democracy ought to serve as a value unto itself.

Courts and criticism

Bhargava’s warnings have since proved prophetic. India’s courts have routinely invoked the long arm of its contempt powers to often punish expressions of dissent on purported grounds of such speech undermining or scandalising the judiciary’s authority. But, while doing so, the court has rarely conducted a strict analysis on whether those acts posed any actual threat to — or interfered in any direct manner with — the administration of justice.

For example, in 1970, the Supreme Court famously upheld a conviction of contempt of court against the former Chief Minister of Kerala, E.M.S. Namboodiripad. During his tenure as Chief Minister, Namboodiripad had apparently delivered a speech arguing that judges were guided and dominated by class interests. “To charge the judiciary as an instrument of oppression, the judges as guided and dominated by class hatred, class interests and class prejudices, instinctively favouring the rich against the poor,” wrote Justice M. Hidayatullah, “is to draw a very distorted and poor picture of the judiciary. It is clear that it is an attack upon judges, which is calculated to raise in the minds of the people a general dissatisfaction with, and distrust of all judicial decisions. It weakens the authority of law and law courts.”

The judgment made no effort at showing any actual link between Namboodiripad’s statements and the supposed weakening of the courts’ authority. In so doing, a disturbing trend was set in motion, which culminated in a 1996 decision in which the Supreme Court ruled that “all acts which bring the court into disrepute or disrespect or which offend its dignity or its majesty or challenge its authority” amount to punishable contempt. The ultimate consequence[kón-si-kwun(t)s(result,परिणाम)] of this ruling is typical of Indian free speech jurisprudence: a complete eschewal[es'choo(stay away,दूर रहना)] by the courts of any regard for individual choice and liberty, coupled with a belief that some forms of speech are to be muzzled purely by virtue of their content as opposed to any actual anti-democratic harm stemming through their expression.

In 2006, with a view to reducing the breadth of the judiciary’s powers, Parliament amended the Contempt of Courts Act of 1971. The law now provides two additional safeguards in favour of a dissenter. One, it establishes that a sentence for contempt of court can be imposed only when the court is satisfied that the contempt is of such a nature that it substantially interferes, or tends to substantially interfere with the due course of justice. Two, the truth in speech now constitutes a valid defence against proceedings of contempt, if the court is satisfied that the larger public interest is served through the publication of such content. In spite of these amendments, though, courts have continued to routinely equate the supposed scandalising of the judiciary’s authority to an act of contempt.

Constitutional lawyers have proposed many different justifications for the right to free speech. As legal philosopher Ronald Dworkin argued, these justifications usually fall into one or the other of two larger categories. The first involves an instrumental understanding of free speech: that to allow people to speak freely and openly promotes good rather than bad policies. The second justification is premised on a larger platform of a commitment to individual autonomy, of treating people with equal concern, and of therefore respecting their right to speak freely. Punishing speech for supposedly scandalising or lowering the authority of the court falls afoul of whichever rationale we might wish to adopt in our theorising of the abstract right to free expression in India.

Interestingly, in England, whose laws of contempt we’ve so indiscriminately[in-di'skri-mu-nut-lee(randomly,अक्रमित)] adopted, there hasn’t been a single conviction for scandalising the court in more than eight decades. What’s more, in 2013, after a recommendation by its Law Commission, the country altogether abolished[u'bó-lish(do away with,बहिष्कार)] as a form of contempt the offence of scandalising the judiciary. In so doing, it gave credence[kree-d(u)n(t)s(believable,विश्वसनीयता)] to Lord Denning’s characteristically precise opinion in a case where contempt charges had been pressed against Queen’s Counsel Quintin Hogg for what was an excoriating[ek'sko-ree,eyt(disapproval,निंदा)] attack on the courts in Punch magazine. “Let me say at once that we will never use this jurisdiction as a means to uphold our own dignity,” Denning wrote. “That must rest on surer foundations… We do not fear criticism, nor do we resent it. For there is something far more important at stake. It is no less than freedom of speech itself.”

Courtesy: the hindu

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More than a numbers game: moving beyond the floor test

Dr. B.R. Ambedkar believed that Article 356 of the Constitution, which provides for imposition of President’s rule in the States and dissolution of State Assemblies, would, in reality, be only a ‘dead letter’. However, by the time a Constitution Bench ruled in the S.R. Bommai v. Union of India case (1994) that a presidential proclamation under Article 356 is subject to judicial review, that it is not an absolute but a conditional power, and that no Assembly can be dissolved before both Houses of Parliament ratify the proclamation, the provision originally meant to be used sparingly had been invoked over 90 times. After the verdict, however, one would have thought that the provision has been somewhat neutralised. That the casual resort to imposition of President’s rule or dissolution of State Assemblies at the whim of the ruling party at the Centre has ended and the potential for further misuse removed. Arunachal Pradesh has now demonstrated that the ‘dead letter’ is quite alive and kicking Chief Ministers out of power.

Many grounds have been cited[sited(mentioned,उल्लेख)] in support of bringing the sensitive border State under Central rule: from “breakdown of the constitutional machinery” to “collapse of law and order” to other sinister charges such as a threat to the life and security of the Governor and alleged links between the Chief Minister and an extremist group. The context, of course, is something that the Congress is familiar with, as it had used similar circumstances to topple[tó-pul(fall down,गिरना)] many a regime in the past: dissidence[di-si-dun(t)s(disagreement,असहमति)] within the ruling party and the Opposition colluding[ku'lood(conspire,साठगाँठ)] with the rebels to bring down the regime. In Arunachal Pradesh, the party is at the receiving end. It had 47 MLAs in a 60-member House, and the BJP 11, and yet its Chief Minister has been deposed by dissidents acting in concert with the Opposition and helped by the Governor.

Spotlight on the Governor

The manner in which Arunachal Pradesh was brought under President’s rule highlights a significant strand of political behaviour in the country. Even constitutional authorities believe less in law and propriety than in their ability to work around them to achieve their desired results. And one is not merely talking about Governor J.P. Rajkhowa while saying this. It is equally applicable to the deposed Chief Minister, Nabam Tuki. It is quite obvious that the Governor was more concerned about removing the Speaker and installing a rival faction leader as Chief Minister than giving an opportunity to Mr. Tuki to demonstrate his majority on the floor of the House. As for Mr. Tuki, he appears to have done nothing to ascertain his support within the Congress legislature party in the face of brewing dissidence within its ranks. Nor did he convene[kun'veen(meet,आयोजित)] the Assembly until it became a constitutional necessity as it was nearly six months since the House had last met.

The Gauhati High Court has categorically ruled in favour of the Governor’s decisions in the present crisis. It has upheld his power to summon or prorogue the Assembly under Article 174(1) and his power to send messages, even fixing a specific item on the agenda of the legislature, under Article 175(2). The court saw nothing wrong in the Governor advancing a sitting of the House from January 14, 2016 to December 16, 2015. Nor did it find anything illegal in his specifying that a motion to remove the Speaker should be taken up immediately after the House convenes. In effect, a controversial ‘sitting’ of 33 members of the Assembly in a makeshift venue has been upheld by the high court. It is somewhat ironical that at a time when even a presidential proclamation is subject to judicial review, case law on the role of the Governor still favours gubernatorial[,goo-bu-nu'to-ree-u(related to governer,राज्यपाल संबंधी)] privilege and discretion[di'skre-shun(intelligence,समझदारी)] .

A crucial question before the Supreme Court is whether the Governor can, in his discretion and without the aid and advice of the Council of Ministers, summon the legislature or advance a scheduled sitting; and whether he can fix the agenda for such a session on his own. Interestingly, the Gauhati High Court extensively quotes from a Madras High Court Full Bench verdict of 1973 favouring the Governor’s action in somewhat similar circumstances in the Tamil Nadu Assembly. There, too, the ruling party had split, the Speaker and the Deputy Speaker were in different factions, and the dissidents wanted to remove the Chief Minister through a censure motion. However, in the Tamil Nadu precedent — where also there was a parallel ‘Assembly session’ — the Governor was acting on the advice of the ministry of M. Karunanidhi while sending a message to the House that it should first take up a motion to remove the Speaker, whose loyalty lay with the dissidents. On the crucial question of the Governor’s discretion, the high courts have gone by the principle in Article 163: that the question whether any advice, and if so what advice, had been given to the Governor shall not be gone into by any court; and when a question arises whether the matter on which the Governor had acted was actually one on which he can use his discretion, the decision made by the Governor in his discretion will be final.

Options ahead of the floor test

The validity of President’s rule in Arunachal Pradesh will be decided on established constitutional principles, but the time may have come to go beyond even the floor test requirement in ascertaining[a-su'teyn(check,पता लगाना)] whether a particular regime commands a majority. Just as unscrupulous[ún'skroo-pyu-lus(unprincipled,अनैतिक)] defections are legally discouraged, opportunistic cooperation between ruling party dissidents and Opposition legislators just to bring down a Chief Minister may also have to be prevented. This can be achieved if the Governor asks the Chief Minister to submit proof of his support within his own legislature party or alliance partners before ordering a floor test. In the event of some factions withdrawing their support to the government, the Governor can always turn them away and ask them to move a no-confidence motion instead of coming to him. If there is any attempt by the Speaker or the Chief Minister to block such a motion, or if the Assembly is not convened, the Governor should not hesitate to write to the party’s leadership seeking proof of its legislature party still having only one leader. This may force the hand of parties that seek to avoid convening legislature party meetings and hoping that in the Assembly, a floor test can be managed by a partisan Speaker and by selective expulsions to change the composition of the House. In other words, those arguing for the primacy of the floor test will need to have their house in order before the matter is decided in the legislature.

An incumbent[in'kúm-bunt(current,पदस्थ)] government’s reluctance[ri'lúk-tun(t)s(unwilling,अनिच्छुक)] to follow this process may lead to the Governor recommending that the Centre give a suitable direction to the State. For, under Article 365, it shall be lawful for the President to then hold that because of any non-compliance with the direction, the State can no more be run in accordance with the Constitution. This sequence — proof of subsisting support within the ruling party, a floor test, and in the event of these efforts being blocked, a formal direction from the Union, followed by a determination on the constitutionality of the continuance of the regime — may address concerns of partisan behaviour.

Even in times when the incumbent regime swears by “co-operative federalism”, Raj Bhavans are seen as sinecures[sI-ni,kyûr(minimum duties,आराम की नौकरी)] for friends of the ruling party and its formerly active members and associates. New norms will have to guide both the appointment of Governors and their functioning. The recommendations of the Sarkaria Commission on Centre-State relations are readily available with regard to choosing the occupants of Raj Bhavan.

It had said a Governor should be someone eminent[e-mu-nunt(superior,उत्कृष्ट)] in some walk of life, and should not be one “who has taken too great a part in politics generally, and particularly in the recent past”. Only a few eminent personalities outside the domain of politics and civil or military service have been made Governors. As long as parties pursue their own political interests rather than abide by(follow,पालन करना)] the Constitution, it will be left to the courts to uphold federal norms.

Courtesy: the hindu

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Negotiating with the Taliban

The recently concluded Doha Dialogue on ‘Peace and Security in Afghanistan’ presents a number of opportunities for the international community, as well as India, in dealing with the resurgent Taliban phenomenon.

The second round of the unofficial Doha Dialogue, organised by the Nobel Peace Prize-winning Pugwash Conferences on Science and World Affairs with support from the state of Qatar, comes at a time when the official Quadrilateral Coordination Group on Afghan Peace and Reconciliation, with participation from the governments of Afghanistan, China, Pakistan, and the U.S., has become a non-starter due to the non-participation of the Taliban.

Key leaders from the Taliban’s Qatar office, the only one of its kind set up by the dominant Taliban faction of Mullah Akhtar Mohammad Mansour, were in full attendance at the Doha meeting which was boycotted by the Afghan government. Led by Sher Mohammad Abbas Stanekzai, head of the Taliban’s political office in Qatar, the group, whose leaders and assets figure on a UN blacklist, put forward a number of conditions for initiating a peace process in Afghanistan. There are three reasons why the Doha process is significant at this juncture[júngk-chu(point,मोड़)] : the Taliban leadership’s preference, as articulated[aa'tik-yu,ley-tid(express,कहना)] in Doha, for a negotiated settlement in Afghanistan over continued bloodshed; their willingness to negotiate a power-sharing agreement with the Afghan government; and, for the first time since the Taliban’s fall in 2001, they have started clarifying the contours of their vision for Afghanistan, albeit[ol'bee-it(even though,यद्यपि)] through a Track II process.

Why engage with the Taliban?

But why should we make peace with a violent outfit holding highly objectionable religious and political views? Shouldn’t our efforts be aimed at ensuring that the Taliban are defeated, both militarily and ideologically?

The most important reason for engaging with the Taliban is that not doing so is indeed a worse option, and could prove to be suicidal for Afghanistan and its people. With no less than 60,000 heavily armed men in their ranks, the Taliban are reportedly in control of around 30 per cent of the country’s districts, with their reach and control steadily on the rise. There is a lot of concern today about the impending spring offensive by the Taliban and what it would do to the Afghans.

Despite the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation’s (NATO) withdrawal from Afghanistan, the U.S. has decided to keep close to 10,000 troops in Afghanistan this year, and around 5,000 in 2017. However, if 1,40,000 NATO troops in 2011 (and 1,20,000 in 2013) could not stop the Taliban’s territorial gains, what could 10,000 troops do? In other words, Taliban resurgence in Afghanistan is a foregone conclusion whether we like it or not. The question is whether we can make their comeback less painful and more acceptable for the Afghans by bringing the Taliban to the negotiating table.

Second, widespread electoral fraud during the 2014 presidential election in Afghanistan, and Washington’s involvement in making an agreement between the two contenders on the electoral outcome, has dented the legitimacy of the Afghan government. With decreasing American military support, very little political legitimacy, and sheer lack of military strength to run its writ over the country, the Afghan administration will find itself in more trouble in the years ahead. The more it delays direct talks with the Taliban, the weaker its negotiating position would become prompting the Taliban to seek even more concessions.

Third, and most important, the Taliban leadership repeatedly hinted at possible power-sharing arrangements with Afghan President Ashraf Ghani during the Doha deliberations. Given its many weaknesses, Kabul would do well by engaging the Taliban in a dialogue process. In that sense, the Afghan government’s “official” decision to boycott the Doha conference was a mistake.

Have the Taliban changed?

Despite the Taliban’s military capability to take back most parts of Afghanistan, the international community would need to know, before conferring any semblance[sem-blun(t)s(appearance,झलक)] of legitimacy on them, whether they are willing to change their violent ways. In order to assess this as well as to nudge them to change even more, it is important to engage them. If the leadership’s declarations at the Doha conference are any indication of their current policies, then the Taliban have indeed transformed, even though they would still need to travel a long way to belong to the contemporary cultural and political milieu. The Taliban left no stone unturned in reassuring the dialogue participants, including Afghan women, parliamentarians and civil society activists, that they would respect women’s rights (to work, choose their spouse, etc.) and ensure modern education for all, including girls. It is possible that the overzealous bunch of madrasa-trained Taliban soldiers who secured one surprise military victory after another in the mid-1990s has after all learned the ropes of statecraft.

Second, the Taliban seemed to be receptive[ri'sep-tiv(acceptive,ग्रहणशील)] to the idea of an Afghan political space where there is no monopoly of power by any one party. That is clearly a major change for an uncompromisingly puritanical[,pyûr-i'ta-ni-ku(strict,सख्त)] outfit. Given the diversity of Afghanistan, and politics deeply rooted in tribal loyalty, it is next to impossible for any one political outfit to exclusively govern the length and breadth of the country: the Taliban, if they are serious about the ‘no monopoly of power’ proposal, have then recognised that unavoidable reality.

Third, the Taliban representatives also underscored the importance of economically developing the country in cooperation with neighbouring states. For instance, they pledged open support for the proposed Turkmenistan-Afghanistan-Pakistan-India (TAPI) pipeline project and guaranteed that they would ensure the security of the pipeline along with the Afghan government.

Potential roadblocks ahead

And yet, the Taliban seem to be intransigent[in'tran-si-junt(inflexible,कट्टर)] on a number of fundamental issues that could come up as serious difficulties on the negotiating table. The most important issue is that the Taliban, who refer to themselves as the “Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan”, continue to be unwilling to submit themselves to the Afghan Constitution and accept the term “Islamic Republic of Afghanistan” written in its preamble. Intent on creating an “Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan”, they propose to establish a state based on the Sharia law. They are non-committal on the question of democracy, partly due to their interpretation of Islam, and partly due to their fear whether the Afghan people would accept them if they fought an open and transparent election without the might of the gun.

For the Afghan government and the international community in general, it would be difficult to accept the Taliban if they do not agree to assume power through a democratic, electoral process. It is likely that when the Taliban talk about “power-sharing agreements” with the Afghan government, what they have in mind is being given a ‘share of power’ in Afghanistan (say, legitimate control of a few provinces) on a platter. This could be difficult for both the Afghan government and the international community to concede and could well be a deal-breaker.

And yet, the point is to create a political situation, through sustained negotiations with the armed outfit, in which it is possible for the Taliban to see the virtues of competitive politics as an attractive route to power. Having tasted power once, they might see the merit in it. For that to happen, the Afghan government may have to accept some of the Taliban’s preconditions for talks, such as allowing them to open a formal office on Afghan soil.

India’s fears and options

New Delhi has had a frosty[frós-tee(cold,ठंडा)] relationship with the Taliban due to a number of reasons: the deep links between the Taliban and Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence and the latter’s use of Afghan territory to train terrorists to fight in Kashmir; the extremely objectionable policies followed by the Taliban regime until its fall in 2001; and the highly unhelpful behaviour of the Taliban during the IC-814 hijack in 1999. However, New Delhi has realised over the years that the Taliban could one day return to power in Kabul in one form or another and that it would have to deal with them eventually. Clearly, not dealing with undesirable regimes, despite our political and ideological differences, can’t be smart statecraft.

An early indication of the Indian rethink vis-à-vis[,vee-zu'vee(face to face,के सामने)] the Taliban came in October 2009 when the then Foreign Secretary stated in a speech, “We support the Afghan government’s determination to integrate those willing to abjure violence and live and work within the parameters of the Afghan Constitution, which provides the framework for a pluralistic and democratic society.”

Reiterating this policy two years later, the then Prime Minister Manmohan Singh stated, referring to the peace talks between the Hamid Karzai government and the Taliban, in an address to the Afghan Parliament: “Afghanistan has embarked[em'baak(enter,प्रवेश)] upon a process of national reconciliation — we wish you well in this enterprise.”

New Delhi’s cautious approach towards the Taliban is reasonable, given the latter’s past behaviour towards India. However, there is today a need for New Delhi to play a more proactive role vis-à-vis the Afghan reconciliation process. It is important to take note of the laudable attempts made by the Taliban representatives in Doha at allaying India’s fears by stating that they would not allow their territory to be used for terror activities, and that their foreign policy would not be dictated by anyone (an indirect reference to Pakistan).

India’s Afghan policy, ever since the fall of the Taliban in 2001, has been impressive and imaginative. However, it does fall short in meeting the country’s future objectives in Afghanistan in the context of the emerging political realities there. India should therefore make use of the reconciliation process in Afghanistan to subtly engage all stakeholders there. The Doha process and the message from the Taliban leadership based in the Qatari capital should be taken seriously by New Delhi.

Courtesy: the hindu

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Sounding the smoke alarm

Thanks to the Juvenile Justice (Care and Protection of Children) Act, 2015, tobacco companies in India may find it hard to lure[lûr(provoke,उकसाना)] children below the age of 18 into the tobacco habit. According to the Act, anyone who sells these products to underage children will face rigorous[ri-gu-rus(strict,सख्त)] imprisonment up to seven years and a fine up to Rs. 1,00,000.

For long there has been a need to impose tougher punishment on those peddling dangerous substances to children, as existing legal provisions have been largely ineffectual. For instance, under the Cigarette and Other Tobacco Products Act, 2003, a paltry[pól-tree(negligible,नगण्य)] fine of Rs.200 was imposed on those who sold tobacco products to minors; this obviously did little to serve as a deterrent[di'te-runt(prevention,निवारक)] . Despite a ban on the sale of tobacco products to minors being in place since 2003, access to and availability of tobacco products was never a problem for children aged 13-15, according to the 2009-2010 Global Youth Tobacco Survey (GYTS), as over 56 per cent of those polled “bought cigarettes in a store were not refused purchase because of their age”. Most 15- to 17-year-olds were also able to purchase tobacco products.

Increase in consumption levels
Easy access to and availability of tobacco has had a direct impact on consumption levels. The GYTS found that nearly 15 per cent of children (19 per cent of boys and over 8 per cent of girls) in India as young as 13-15 years used some form of tobacco in 2009; another 15.5 per cent in the same age group who had never smoked before were likely to begin smoking the following year. The overall tobacco use among school students aged 13-15 increased from 13.7 per cent in 2006 to 14.6 per cent in 2009.

These startling[staat-ling(surprising,आश्चर्यजनक)] figures on tobacco consumption by minors may still be a gross underestimate. By virtue of being school-based, the survey failed to take into account the most vulnerable[vúl-nu-ru-bul(weak,कमज़ोर)] population of children who are outside the schooling system and who are probably the earliest and most extensive users of tobacco. Several studies have found higher consumption levels of tobacco among uneducated children, among those with only primary-level education, and among those from the lower income strata.

Besides this, the 2010 Global Adult Tobacco Survey (GATS) report showed that nearly 10 per cent of children in India in the 15-17 age group consumed tobacco in some form. According to an August 2015 paper published in the journal Global Health Promotion, there are nearly 4.4 million children in India in the 15-17 age group who use tobacco daily.

Like in the case of the GYTS, the GATS report too suffers a major shortcoming. It does not have information on tobacco users from “many States”, the paper notes. Yet, taken together, the two surveys reveal that a quarter of children below the age of 18 consumed tobacco in some form or the other in 2009.

The data highlight how successful tobacco companies have been in employing multiple strategies to continually entice children into using tobacco at a very early age. For instance, tobacco companies offering free cigarettes to 13- to 15-year-old children, tobacco advertisements on billboards, the strategic placement of tobacco products inside shops, and the use of advertisement boards that do not meet the point-of-sale display specifications are some of the strategies employed by companies, according to a study published early last year in the journal, Asian Pacific Journal of Cancer Prevention.

That these strategies have been effective is evident: the average age at which there is daily initiation of tobacco in those above the age of 15 years is 17.8 years. This includes 14 per cent of those who smoke (cigarettes and bidis) and nearly 30 per cent of those who use smokeless tobacco.

Vulnerability of children

Why do companies target children? As the 1994 U.S. Surgeon General’s report had stated, companies are fully aware that the younger a person is when s/he begins to smoke, the more likely it is that s/he continue to smoke as an adult. Those who use tobacco at a younger age are more addicted to it and are less likely to quit the habit than those who begin using it later. Early use is also invariably associated with more frequent use. Early users are also less ignorant about the effects, making them easier prey for the tobacco companies.

While the Ministry of Women and Child Development’s initiative to disincentivise the sale of tobacco products to children through stiff penalty is commendable, the real challenge will be in its enforcement. Unlike in the developed countries where cigarettes are sold in licensed shops and outlets, “over 76 per cent sale of tobacco products in India is restricted to unlicensed small shops and kiosks found in every street corner”. Policing them will be a huge challenge.

Hence, a multipronged approach is necessary to keep the young ones away from tobacco. To start with, in accordance with India’s Cigarettes and Other Tobacco Products Act, 2003, enforcing the ban on the sale of tobacco within a 100-metre radius of schools coupled with a ban on advertisements on tobacco near schools should be a priority, as several studies have shown a link between availability and consumption.

Schools can also spread cognizance[kóg-ni-zun(t)s(awareness,जागरूकता)] about tobacco use among students to make the product less appealing. For instance, according to a 2012 paper in PLOS ONE, a unique programme in Mumbai that focussed on imparting life skills and creating awareness on tobacco among economically disadvantaged schoolchildren helped prevent more than 50 per cent of them from taking up the habit.

Meanwhile, more trenchant[tren-chunt(effective,प्रभावी)] measures such as increasing taxes on tobacco products and introducing shocking pictorial warnings that cover 85 per cent of the front and back of packets are easily enforceable and would go a long way towards reducing consumption levels.

Since the Indian taxation structure is not linked to income growth and inflation, tobacco products get cheaper relative to income affordability. As an annual systematic inflation-adjusted increase in tobacco tax is not built into the process, there is a strong case to increase taxes every year. A precipitous[pri'si-pi-tus(steep,त्वरित)] increase in price will certainly prevent an overwhelming percentage of children from starting the habit and force many to quit. The negative impact on tobacco sales and consumption levels seen after an increase in taxes in the last two consecutive budgets serves as a pointer.

Courtesy:the hindu

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The stained steel frame

The sensational arrest, by the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) on January 18, of the Regional Provident Fund (PF) Commissioner, Chennai, and some of his staff, as also a few private individuals belonging to a group of educational institutions in the city, does not surprise me. The episode is very much part of a pattern that became established a few decades ago — the escalation of corruption from the bottom of the bureaucratic hierarchy[hI-u,raa-kee(structure,वर्गीकरण)] to its higher echelons. A sum of Rs.14.5 lakh was recovered from the PF Commissioner when he was trapped accepting a bribe in consideration of favours shown to the administrators of a Chennai-based educational trust, which runs a deemed university offering medical, dental and engineering courses. This comes against the background of CBI investigations against senior Indian Administrative Service (IAS) officers, and arrests of top public sector bank, customs as well as income tax officials. Relevant to recall here is the case of an IAS couple of Madhya Pradesh, hauled up a few years ago for being found in possession of property and bank accounts worth several crores of rupees. They were subsequently dismissed from the IAS. What is apparent in all these happenings is a growing fearlessness of the law in segments of the bureaucracy, giving rise to the impression that whatever has been done by governments and courts till now does not deter[di'tur(prevent,रोकना)] the daring offender, who does not mind being named and shamed. Unchecked, this trend could lead to a total erosion of public confidence in bureaucratic fairness and objectivity.

The rot begins at the top

It is sad that the levels of integrity of public servants are plummeting[plú-mit(drop,गिरना)] rapidly at a time when the Union government is in the process of implementing the recommendations of the Seventh Pay Commission, that would bring to every Central employee at least a 15-20 per cent rise in emoluments. The rapaciousness[ru'pey-shus-nus(extreme desire,अत्यधिक लालच)] that is evident in critical sections of the civil service therefore lends strength to the popular belief that it is greed rather than need that impels many in the bureaucracy to resort to extortion and unabashed[,ún-u'basht(unashamed,बेपरवाह)] corruption.

The common man should therefore be asking the question as to how any increase in the wages of government employees was justified at all in the context of the continued high levels of corruption in the civil service. Also, what can be done to increase deterrence[di'te-run(t)s(prevention,निवारक)] so that government officials at all levels are made to be afraid of punitive[pyoo-nu-tiv(punishable,दंडात्मक)] action that would not only embarrass them but also invite the ire of their own kith and kin?

While we should worry about the lack of integrity in the whole civil service, what is depressing is that the higher echelons are not setting an example to those below. It is lamentable[la-mun-tu-bul(bad,बुरा)] that corruption among the elitist All India Services (IAS, Indian Police Service, Indian Forest Service) has shown no signs of abating, despite the many checks and balances introduced by successive governments.

The Prevention of Corruption Act (PCA), 1988 and its subsequent amendments have had only a marginal impact. One aspect of the problem is the well known, unethical conduct of those holding ministerial positions. Their unabashed browbeating['braw,beet(frightened,धमकाना)] of senior government officials, particularly those at the level of secretary, is certainly a factor. But then, if the latter cave in to ministerial pressure, they have only themselves to blame. What is even more obnoxious[ób'nók-shus(offensive,घृणित)] is that some of them are known to join in to share the loot accruing to a minister! The inability to stand up to ministerial pressure is one thing, but to benefit squarely from the misdeeds of those in the political firmament is an entirely different proposition.

Near-immunity for bureaucrats

I quite appreciate the plea for protecting the honest senior government official, who should be able to discharge his duties without fear or favour. I am also quite aware of some investigating agencies like the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) and State Vigilance Directorates sometimes hounding a few straightforward officers on flimsy[flim-zee(weak,कमज़ोर)] grounds at the instance of a minister annoyed with an honest official for refusing to fall in line with a dishonest decision. It is this desire for transparency and objectivity that saw the issue of the Single Directive by the Union government, which required government permission to the investigating agency to initiate a preliminary inquiry against an official at the level of joint secretary and above. However well-meaning this directive was, it did result in certain licentious conduct by a few in the higher bureaucracy. The directive was struck down by the Supreme Court of India in the hawala case (1997) as unconstitutional. However, from a purely executive order, it became law through an appropriate provision, both in the Central Vigilance Commission Act, 2003 and the Delhi Special Police Establishment (DSPE) Act, 1946, from which, incidentally, the CBI derives its powers to investigate. In 2014, on a challenge by Subramanian Swamy and the Centre for Public Interest Litigation, the Supreme Court struck down the Single Directive — as embodied in Section 6A of the DSPE Act — as discriminatory and violative of the constitutional principle of equality before the law.

Any fresh attempt to give life to the Single Directive through legal subterfuge[súb-tu,fyooj(blind,छल)] under pressure from the senior bureaucracy will only send the wrong signal to those pursuing graft at the very top in government. In a large number of States, known for high levels of corruption, the anti-corruption directorates still require government permission to proceed even on a preliminary inquiry against a senior officer. This mandatory provision protects and preserves the unholy nexus between a dishonest minister and the secretary to the department the former presides over.

The requirement of government sanction to prosecute an official found by an investigating agency to have violated the PCA or the Indian Penal Code (IPC) has similarly blunted endeavours to bring an erring official to book. While I admit that an application of mind at the government level — after an agency has established guilt through assiduous[u'si-dyoo-us(hardworking,मेहनती)] investigation — is required to prevent miscarriage of justice, many ministries and State governments are known to have misused this in order to protect dishonest officials who had either misbehaved on their own or in concert with a minister. A downright refusal to sanction prosecution or dilatory[di-lu-t(u-)ree(slow,सुस्त)] tactics in taking a decision on the matter encourages permissiveness. Courts have come down on this rather heavily. After repeated expression of displeasure by the Supreme Court on the matter, the Union government has proposed an amendment to the PCA, making a decision mandatory within three months of a request for sanction. When this amendment is approved by Parliament, one can expect expeditious[ek-spi'di-shus(quick,द्रुत)] disposal of requests by investigating agencies.

Punitive action as deterrent

One effective step to stem bureaucratic dishonesty is to deny to the offender benefits of living on proceeds of corruption. While bank accounts suspected to have been parking places for illegal income can be frozen by an investigating agency, enough has not been done in respect of immovable properties acquired by an unscrupulous[,ún'skroo-pyu-lus(dishonest,बेईमान)] official. The Criminal Law Amendment Ordinance, 1944, permits attachment of property believed to have been purchased with the help of illegally obtained money. Such property will be forfeited[for-fu-tid(seiz,जब्त)] under a judicial order to the state by an accused convicted under the PCA, to the extent determined by the criminal court that has convicted him. Such acts of attachment and forfeiture lend some deterrence to prevent corrupt civil servants from converting ill-gotten wealth into various forms of property. Increasing resort to this kind of punitive action could be a disincentive to buying property out of tainted[teyn-tid(corrupt,दूषित)] money.

In the final analysis, the fight against corruption in public service is extremely problem-ridden, because the canker has spread to the higher echelons of the civil service. The hands of investigating agencies have been tied not only by non-cooperation at levels that matter, but also by legal constraints. Very little can be done to substantially alter the unfortunate situation. Stronger legislation to plug the loopholes in the current law — an amendment to this effect is in the pipeline — is not the answer. Political will combined with greater courage on the part of senior officials to stand up to unethical pressure from above can do a lot to stem the rot. Public vigilance coupled with media support will help greatly.

Courtesy: the hindu

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Preservation vs a clean break

Parliament building is a symbol of our republic. But last month, the Lok Sabha speaker requested the urban development minister to consider constructing a new Parliament building. A similar request was also made during the UPA regime.

There are reportedly several reasons why the building is presently inadequate[in'a-di-kwut(insufficient,अपर्याप्त)] : It is too small to accommodate Parliament’s increasing number of committees and personnel; its security arrangements are wanting; it will not be possible to seat more members in the Lok Sabha chamber when, on account of expanding population, it will be legally necessary to do so; its infrastructure and equipment are technologically outdated; and the building is not earthquake safe.

The claim that more capacious[ku'pey-shus(big,बड़ा)] , technologically advanced and safer facilities are urgently needed seems well justified. Therefore, the recent moves to address this need should be welcomed. But how should the need for better facilities be addressed? This is quintessentially[kwin-tu'sen-shu-lee(distinctively,विशिष्ट रूप से)] an architectural question, worthy of careful consideration and judgement.

We measure the adequacy of buildings by objective as well as subjective assessments of their worth. Both are equally important. Buildings have to fulfil our prosaic[prow'zey-ik(unimaginative,अकल्पनाशील)] needs, which can be objectively measured and listed. But this is not enough. For buildings to be adequate, they must also, simultaneously, be of subjective worth. They must convey the right meanings and be appropriate for their purpose.

Think of how we decide what to wear. We want our clothes to meet prosaic, measurable needs — for example, keeping us warm, cool or dry. But this is not enough. We also want our clothes to correctly convey our self-identity. We want them to be appropriate for the occasion. Therefore, when deciding whether a piece of clothing is adequate, we make objectively verifiable assessments. We also make subjective assessments. We decipher[di'sI-fu(decode,अर्थ निकलना)] what message a piece of clothing is likely to convey and judge whether that message is appropriate in the context in which it is to be used.

Most people would agree that inadequate as Parliament building might be for meeting objectively measurable functions, as a symbolic structure, it is robust[row'búst(strong,मजबूत)]. The memories it evokes, the hopes it kindles and the meanings it embodies, could not be better suited for its function.

Parliament building was built in 1927. Its circular plan refers to the Ashok Chakra. Originally, it housed the Central Legislative Assembly. The transfer of colonial power took place in its central hall. Our Constitution was framed there. Its power as a national symbol can be judged by the prime minister’s gesture when he first entered Parliament. At its steps, he bowed and touched his forehead to this “temple of democracy”.

This is why the proposal to build a brand new building is a bit jolting[jówl-ting(rough,कठोर)]. It makes one immediately wonder if it is really not possible to upgrade facilities while preserving the present building in its old form.

But facts have a way of confounding desires. For many sound reasons, it may simply not be possible to upgrade the building while retaining its original form. It may, in fact, be too small to house all necessary functions. It may be impossible to elegantly expand its seating capacity. It may be technically impossible to retrofit it with modern infrastructure. But then, is it not possible to modify the present structure or perhaps add to it in a way that a considerable portion of the old structure remains in use? Doing this could help retain the evocative power of the old structure.

An argument that has already been advanced against such a strategy is that Parliament building is a heritage Grade-I structure and, therefore, it cannot be significantly modified. This is a valid but legalistic argument that misses the point. It makes little sense to fetishise Parliament building in this way. Does it make more sense to modify the present building and have it be a vital monument or to perfectly preserve the building’s form, eviscerate[i'vi-su,reyt(injured,चोटिल)] it of its main function and have it be an embalmed[im'baam(preserve dead body,शव सुरक्षा)] monument? Heritage regulations can be overwritten, by Parliament if necessary, to facilitate this.

Many examples attest to the fact that it is possible to sensitively transform buildings so that the architecture of the new building retains the evocative power of the old. The Palace of Westminster, the United States Capitol and the Reichstag were all built well over a century ago and have been considerably transformed along the way. All of them are brilliant examples of how buildings can be modernised without losing their power to evoke the past.

Perhaps, I am wrong. Perhaps we need to make a clean break, untether ourselves from the past and more fully embrace the future. I can imagine a case being made that the energies and narratives of the 20th century are now spent, that our Parliament has become truly dysfunctional and that it is time to embalm the symbols of the past and create new ones. Therefore, we should build a brand new Parliament building. Personally, I am not an evangelistic[i,van-ju'li-stik(enthusiastic,उत्साही)] supporter either of fetishistic preservation or of clean breaks. I am more for sensitively building on what exists.

But then, this article is not meant to advocate a particular upgrading strategy for Parliament building. It is meant to argue that deciding upon the best upgrading strategy is quintessentially an architectural question with deep political significance. What we do with our Parliament building will powerfully signify who we are, how we view our past and where we see ourselves going.

Courtesy: indian express

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sell to spend

The first fortnight of the year suggests 2016 will be tumultuous[tyoo'múl-choo-us(unquiet,अशान्त)] as policymakers around the world grapple[gra-pu(deal,सामना)] with unenviable[ún'en-vee-u-bu(difficult,कठिन)] tradeoffs. Chinese policymakers are attempting to stabilise growth amid severe global trade headwinds and are simultaneously constrained by spillovers(any indirect effect of public expenditure) that risk undermining the efficacy of key policy instruments. Similarly, strong job growth but debilitated[du'bi-lu,tey-tid(weak,कमज़ोर)] wage growth in the US is symptomatic of the dilemma[di'le-mu(uncertainty,दुविधा)] the Fed finds itself in as it tries to retain flexibility without losing credibility. These are delicate balancing acts that are bound to result in periodic bouts of turbulence. Amid this storm, the good news is that India remains the emerging market (EM) deemed most resilient to global shocks, underpinned both by good policy (fiscal and monetary) and a lot of good luck (collapse in oil). The depreciation of the rupee over the last week may have jangled some nerves but the fact is that it continues to be among the best performing EM currencies. The current account deficit is tracking at less than 1 per cent of the GDP, compared to nearly 5 per cent at the time of the taper tantrum[tan-trum(bad tamper,चिड़चिड़ापन)] , dramatically reducing the required capital inflows. The real policy challenge, therefore, is not guarding against a rupee collapse (like in 2013), but ensuring that it doesn’t appear too strong on a trade-weighted basis as other currencies depreciate even faster. India’s worry is not external preparedness but growth risks that have increased in recent months. For all the discussion on exports and reforms, our estimate is that the collapse in oil prices has been the biggest driver of growth, boosting it by more than 1 percentage point in 2015-16 by increasing household purchasing power, improving corporate margins, and creating budgetary space to increase expenditures.

Remember, however, that this is a one-time boost because it’s the change in oil prices — not their level — that creates the growth dividend. To the extent that oil stabilises, India will lose this growth dividend next year. There could be offsets, as a normal monsoon could boost rural demand. But with balance-sheet stress not alleviating, and the export outlook not improving, the growth drag from the terms-of-trade shock rolling off will be hard to overcome. The risks, therefore, of a growth slowdown next year are real — a concern the government’s mid-year review, to its credit, acknowledged. In contrast, most market participants still project a linear acceleration of growth in 2016 and 2017, and any slowdown will come as a sticker-shock to them. The obvious next question will is: Is there space to mount a counter-cyclical policy response? The continued correction of oil has increased the possibility of some more monetary easing this year. But any easing is likely to be relatively modest as progressive inflation targets (5 per cent by 2017 and 4 per cent by 2018) become stiffer, and underlying “core” inflation has intransigently[in'tran-si-junt-lee(stubbornly,अटलता)] remained above 5.5 per cent in 2015. More importantly, we shouldn’t suddenly lose our nerve on inflation targeting. It has provided a much-needed anchor to monetary policy, creating credibility, enabling consistency, and anchoring medium-term inflation and rupee expectations. These are priceless virtues to forego. With the space for monetary easing acknowledged to be limited, the debate has unsurprisingly turned to fiscal policy. Amid concerns of a slowdown, should the fiscal-consolidation path be followed and the deficit reduced further from 3.9 to 3.5 per cent of the GDP? On the one hand, doing so would make fiscal policy procyclical (tightening when growth is slowing) and potentially suboptimal, as the mid-year review correctly argues.

But on the other hand, deviating from the fiscal path again is not without risks. First, it could impinge upon hard-earned credibility.

Second, a larger-than-expected borrowing programme could further pressure benchmark G-sec yields, pushing up private-sector borrowing costs and risking some crowding-out of private investment. The recent stickiness of G-sec yields[yee(-u)ld(return,मुनाफा)] is symptomatic of the fragile[fra,jI(-u)l(breakable,भंगुर)] equilibrium in that market. A much-needed reversal of financial repression has meant that a larger fraction of bonds are on banks’ “mark-to-market” books, increasing interest rate risk and reducing incremental appetite for bonds, thereby keeping yields sticky. Compounding this will be Uday bonds, which some profitability-constrained public-sector banks may be induced to sell to book profits. This would add to supply and compound the demand-supply mismatch. Against this backdrop, an unpalatable[ún'pa-lu-tu-bul(unpleasant,अरुचिकर)] fiscal surprise could further harden yields.

Finally, with nominal GDP growth moderating sharply and approaching the same level as the cost of government borrowing, public-sector debt dynamics have become less favourable. The surest way to protect against adverse dynamics is to reduce the primary deficit as soon as possible. Fiscal consolidation would further dampen growth but relaxation could push up borrowing costs and impinge on credibility — so is fiscal policy caught between a rock and a hard place? Not if authorities prioritise asset sales. Just the sale of Suuti, holdings of which have no strategic imperative, would realise 0.35 per cent of GDP, enough to achieve almost the entire consolidation next year. Then, other sources of revenue or savings could offset the Pay Commission increase. A typical objection to disinvestment is that valuations of government commodity companies have come down. But what if they fall further next year as China continues to slow? And to the extent that these resources are ploughed into public investment, the cost of building infrastructure is also commensurately cheaper when commodities collapse. So there is a price hedge. More importantly, think of disinvestment as an “asset swap” on the government’s balance sheet rather than an “asset sale”. Operationally, too, it may be optimal to sell each asset in dribs and drabs(in installment,किश्तों मे)— much like a household’s systematic investment plan — rather than in one go, to hedge against price fluctuations. The key is to realise that asset sales are the only way for the government to protect credibility while avoiding procyclicality. There are no easy policy choices in India. And the lesson from 2013 is: In this global environment, higher growth will be rewarded only if it doesn’t come at the altar of macroeconomic stability.

Courtesy: indian express

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A ringside view of the proposed GST

Touted[tawt(advertise,प्रचारित)] as the “single most important tax reform since 1947”, the Goods and Services Tax (GST) has been in the offing for a decade and continues to figure as a top priority on the economic agenda of the government. Although the model GST has been the subject of wide scrutiny[skroo-t(u-)nee(examine,जाँच)] and debate, most of the discussions have been centred on its road to passage or on its larger form and structure. Many issues of significance, which will be crucial to the making (or the undoing) of a robust[row'búst(strong,मजबूत)] and successful GST, have largely been underplayed.

The reality of uniformity

Much emphasis has been placed on the benefits of uniformity that the GST would usher in(introduce,प्रारम्भ होना). Accordingly, various official documents consistently reflected the understanding that GST would comprise an equal Central GST (CGST) and State GST (SGST), with no deviations from the rates/exemption lists, so as to obviate potential “rate wars” between States.

The first indication of the dilution of a uniform GST rate has by now already manifested in the July 2015 Report of the Rajya Sabha Select Committee, which allows States the freedom to impose the SGST within a “band of rates” in order to meet revenue expediencies or as a policy tool. Recent reports also contemplate['kón-tum,pleyt(study,विचारना)] a three-tier rate structure instead of two.

Even in terms of the model law, the potential for deviation stems from the concurrent powers of the Centre and States to enact their own GST legislation, compounded by the inheritance of the existing disjointed tax structure. It may be recalled that even the Value Added Tax regime began with a pledge of uniformity, but devolved over time as each State formulated different tax events, rates and exemptions.

Most crucially, the GST Dispute Settlement Authority, which would have reined in any deviations affecting the harmonised structure of the GST, has been done away with. Instead, all issues concerning rates, exemptions, and so on are to be decided by the GST Council (of which the Centre and States are members) by consensus[kun'sen-sus(agreement,सहमति)], which may prove elusive given the political, social and revenue dynamics at play.

Equally questionable is the voting pattern within the GST Council, with the Centre’s vote carrying a one-third weightable of the total votes cast, and the States’ votes a collective two-thirds weightage. In effect, each State, irrespective of size, representation and GDP contribution, will command an equal vote, a structure which militates against the basic spirit of representative democracy enshrined in the Constitution, and also opens up the Council to greater manoeuvring[mu'noo-vu(tactics,युक्ति)] by the Centre on issues that it seeks to pass or veto.

The existing tax system has typically followed a model of rewarding States where production activity is based (origin States), as opposed to States where consumption is high (destination States). Accordingly, most States have incentivised the setting up of local industries in order to drive growth and augment tax collections.

However, this history of origin-based tax is anathema[u'na-thu-mu(curse,अभिशाप)] to the GST, which is by nature a destination-based consumption tax. While origin States may chalk out measures to redress the imbalance, consumption and production patterns will not alter overnight, and industrialised States could be left in the lurch, at least in the immediate aftermath of the GST. Interestingly, there seems to be no globally available precedent which offers a solution to such an imbalance.

In the inevitable[i'ne-vi-tu-bul(necessary,आवश्यक)] shift which the Indian GST necessitates, destination States such as Bihar and Kerala clearly stand to gain in terms of revenue, while origin States such as Gujarat and Maharashtra stand to lose, and had expectedly put up more initial opposition to GST. In order to partially level the playing field, the Centre proposed a 1 per cent origin-based additional GST. However, recent reports suggest this will be sacrificed for the Congress’s support in the Rajya Sabha.

In such a scenario, it will be difficult to predict the reaction of industrialised States. There is also the troubling prospect that such an aggrieved State may seek to substantially deviate from the uniform model.

Preparedness for online compliance

Unlike the existing system, which has greater scope for manual intervention, the GST aims to achieve a tectonic shift to a singular digitised compliance set-up. While this would be a great leap forward if implemented well, what has perhaps been underestimated is the huge geographical disparity across the length and breadth of India in terms of IT connectivity and functionality. Tacit[ta-sit(silent,अकथित)] recognition of this handicap is found in the ‘Digital India’ campaign, which has only recently been launched and admittedly has a long way to go to achieve reasonable Internet penetration. As a result, in some sections of the country today, manual tax compliance remains the only option.

Further, the proposed GST will also be far more dependent on IT. For instance, the IGST mechanism, which enables the crucial fungibility[fún-ju'bi-lu-tee(exchangeable,परिवर्तनीय)] of taxes across States, will be unworkable outside an automated set-up, especially given the sheer volume of transactions that the GST will subsume. The proposed IT infrastructure will have to be suitably equipped, as any snags would effectively render[ren-du(provide,देना)] the levy dysfunctional.

Under the GST, States will have the constitutional power to tax on a par with the Centre, bringing a host of service sectors within their scope for the first time. Past precedent has shown that such dual taxing power has resulted in complete chaos[key-ós(disorder,अव्यवस्था)] at the cost of assesses (the clearest instances are the taxation of software, intangibles[in'tan-ju-bul(immaterial,अमूर्त)], and so on).

Additionally, it is expected that issues of place of supply will also arise, with the Centre and States each asserting that the respective supply has occurred within their jurisdiction, so as to be able to garner[gaa-nu(collect,इकट्ठा)] the tax revenue. Poorly drafted rules will only aid and abet[u'bet(incite,उकसाना)] the confusion — for instance, a draft provision which proportionately divides the tax revenue where a supply of goods/services is made across multiple States.

Along the road to GST, it is also critical that these issues are subjected to the same level of governmental and public scrutiny so that the implementation of GST is a success in letter as well as in spirit.

Courtesy: the hindu

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After the Delhi experiment

It will take time and expertise to assess the odd-even experiment in Delhi, but there is no doubt that it was educative. It taught the government that the public is now ready to support radical measures on air pollution. The public learnt that cynicism[si-ni,si-zum(distrustful,दोषदर्शिता)] is not the only response to a hopeless situation. The odd-even fortnight is now a pleasant memory, but will it also be an inspiring one? The answer depends on the so-called aspirational classes. More specifically, it depends on their willingness to engage in a deeper debate on the meaning of development.

It is said that the last few elections have been fought on the development agenda. That is hardly true, as there was barely any distinction between the contending political parties on their perspective on development. Since the 1990s, development has meant the same thing to every political party. The images leaders evoke to refer to a developed India are identical and have been internalised by the public: they are of high-rises, shopping malls, expressways and flyovers. These are the familiar images of the West, especially the U.S. The fact that China has adopted them as symbols of its own development inspires many in India to do the same. Pollution is part of the Chinese reality, so we cannot avoid it, says current popular wisdom. It also says that Delhi can draw inspiration from Beijing during the worst days of smog.

Growth of the crisis

The odd-even experiment was the outcome of this inspiration. It established that Delhi can cope with an extreme situation arising out of multiple causes and conditions — some related to its geography, others to the compulsions of life that its citizens lead. Dust caused by rampant[ram-punt(uncontrolled,अनियंत्रित)] construction, smog caused by industries and vehicular traffic, smoke from stubble-burning in the fields of Haryana and Punjab, and garbage in the city are among the well-recognised factors of its misery. This year, the misery hit a hurtful point. People stopped taking their morning walks and the lack of oxygen caused a feeling of chronic exhaustion. The judiciary built up the pressure that finally led the government to take some drastic steps.

Successive governments have ignored the growing crisis of Delhi’s environment. Despite expert advice, diesel-driven cars were promoted to fuel the demand for automobiles. The mistaken perception that diesel is a cheaper alternative to petrol was condoned[kun'down(excuse,माफ़)] and promoted. Delhi’s green cover suffered a heavy loss during the Commonwealth Games when the government permitted thousands of trees to be chopped by contractors who never fulfilled the promise they were asked to make that these trees would be replaced.

Delhi’s crisis may look rather specific, but it points to the price that any region might have to pay for mistaken policies that affect the environment. Air pollution is not an isolated phenomenon, nor can it be fully grasped by specialised analysis. Such an analysis will remain one-sided and it will lead to false hope that temporary cures, such as the odd-even formula, arouse. Problems of environment demand holistic inquiry and objective acknowledgement of mistakes made in the past.

Any environmental crisis has wider reasons, some of which may appear irrelevant to the issue at hand. Public supply of clean drinking water is a good example. It has never been a national concern, and since the early 1990s, when bottled mineral water became an option, it ceased to be a priority. Now these bottles are a major source of air pollution, and the state is among their prominent consumers. They are distributed in all luxury trains, and passengers are asked to destroy them at the end of their journey. That loud, collective crumpling of plastic we hear ought to remind us how much toxic smoke will be released into the city’s air later when this crumpled mass of plastic is torched.

Like the water bottle, high-rise apartments and shopping malls symbolise the lifestyle of the so-called aspirational classes. An aspirational lifestyle symbolises the primacy of consumption as a source of happiness. In this case, the freedom to produce unlimited amounts of garbage becomes a natural right. No matter how this garbage is disposed off, it will contribute to pollution. When most of the garbage is burnt, it will make a major contribution to poor air quality. This is what has been happening in Delhi.

Literature helps us cope with things beyond our control. During the worst days of smog in December, I turned to a story titled ‘Smog’ written by Italo Calvino many decades ago. It portrays the ecological crisis that urban Italy faced when the land mafia and unscrupulous[,ún'skroo-pyu-lus(unprincipled,बेईमान)] owners of industries gripped its post-war economy. The story is about a visionary tycoon hiring a young journalist to edit a newsletter called Purification. The magazine is supposed to propagate environmental awareness and hope in the middle of a chronic crisis of air pollution. Within a short while of accepting his assignment, the young editor learns that his employer runs this magazine to cover up the massive amounts of dust and pollution his own industries cause. While discussing the text of an editorial that his young editor has drafted, the tycoon mulls[muls(think,सोचना)] over the right phrase to convey his faith in solving the problem of smog without slowing down growth. The first draft says: ‘Will we solve it?’ He finds the expression much too uncertain, so he asks the young editor to try alternative phraseology. Ultimately, they settle for this: ‘Will we solve it? We are solving it.’ The tycoon owner likes the active tone of continuous tense. It postpones the solution while promising determination.

Beyond the formula

Calvino’s elaborate narration of the quibbling[kwi-bul(argue over small things,बहस करना)] between the owner and the editor over verbal correctness conveys the irony of Delhi’s engagement with its dire destiny. The odd-even fortnight had a feel-good effect on Delhi’s citizenry. Children stayed at home as all schools stayed closed in order to let their buses be used as additional public transport. In its second week, the experiment was assisted by favourable weather conditions. This was also a period without weddings, so there were no crackers. The wedding season is now back, and thousands of crackers have started to fill the night sky with beautiful lights, loud explosions and toxic chemicals of Chinese origin. A sickly smog has started to cover the sky and the placid air at dawn is ready to choke the morning walker. Within a few weeks from now, thousands of deciduous[di'si-joo-us(पतझड़)] trees will start dropping their leaves. On the spacious streets of Lutyen’s New Delhi where ministers and senior bureaucrats live, sweepers have been used to keeping the lawns clear of dry leaves. Their masters are never curious to know how these leaves are disposed off. No one likes to see them lying around and rotting, even if they add to the soil’s fertility. Since colonial times, they have been burnt and so shall they be this spring.

Courtesy: the hindu

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