Democracy is more than polls

She was a tiny, wrinkled woman, travelling home from a trip overseas with her husband. A very British working class couple. He watched the movie; she struck up a conversation. She told me she had gone back to school in her ripe old age. Her subject was political science and the focus for that year was the practice of democracy in the world. As an afterthought she looked at me and said approvingly: ‘‘It is good that you people in India are trying for democracy.’’

Having been brought up to be polite to wrinkled white women (even when they decorate their tiaras with our precious stones), I refrained from clunking her on the head with my copy of the British Airways inflight magazine and fulminated all the way home with righteous third world anger about patronising first world attitudes.

Two years down the line I realise how mistaken I was. This week, the conclusion of our most recent round of elections has had me flipping through my diary for the old lady’s address. If I can find it I would like to send her an update. ‘‘Madam,’’ I would like to tell her, ‘‘we have stopped trying.’’

How else does one react to the latest edition of the Great Indian Circus? To outsiders, particularly students of democracy, let me explain that this event comes to town every two years, every two months, every week, in short, whenever there is an election: national, state, civic, panchayat or at least a by-poll. That increasingly these have become occasions for spending a whole lot of money by politicians, TV channels, advertisers and makers of indelible ink. That this time we had all sorts of new exciting add-ons: spruced up TV studios, half page ads with pictures of glamorous commentators, film stars, film star wives, film star daughters-in-law and film stars promoting social programmes at election time. We also had polls, early polls, late polls, exit polls, polls on polls. So many polls that one is inclined to believe rumours that the government is seriously considering a proposal to dispense with the actual elections.

Political pundits will no doubt perceive in all this enthusiasm a vigorous engagement with the democratic process as they will conclude from the results that the will of the people was ultimately reflected. No doubt it was. And no doubt even the most flawed election gives voice to the electorate. Fact is though there are limits to how much significance one can milk from a single event. Speaking for myself, I am tired of watching elections instead of real news as much as I am tired of having my will reflected (or not, given the pathetic state of the electoral rolls in the city where I live). I thought democracy was about more than just elections.

Silly me. In his Idea of India, Sunil Khilnani talks of elections as ‘‘spasmodic, theatrical events, when Indians gathered in hope and anticipation’’. The ‘‘subtle routines of politics between elections’’ he continues, ‘‘when support must be nurtured, promises delivered on, things actually done — were neglected.’’

It was then with some relief that I went to hear bureaucrat turned social activist, Aruna Roy, speak to a group of Mumbai journalists recently. The diminutive Magsaysay Award winner was speaking about her by now well publicised campaign for the People’s Right to Information, a campaign that seeks legislation at the Centre that would provide access for people to government records.

The campaign which has been fairly successful with seven states having already enacted flawed but relevant legislation was sparked off a decade ago with a labourers’ struggle for minimum wages in central Rajasthan. Roy’s organisation, MKSS, which was spearheading the effort, realised that its success and the success of similar battles hinged on procuring relevant information from the government and public bodies; and a campaign was born. The ramifications of a right to information for the media, public interest groups, ordinary citizens and even politicians are of course of unparalleled significance. More so in a country with a culture of secrecy regarding actions by authorities. (Think Tehelka, think coffin scam).

Equally significant is Roy’s description of the changing attitudes among her co-campaigners. The struggle had brought about a sense of empowerment and ownership of the public domain she claimed. The same villagers who would earlier have dismissed government profligacy as something that did not concern them, for instance, were now agitated by the wastage of public money. Two corrupt sarpanchs were even forced to return public money swiped through corruption. As Roy concluded, ‘‘The business of democracy is to make the government accountable for every act.’’

On second thoughts I’ll hold on to that aerogramme for a while longer.

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