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Sent: Wednesday, December 12, 2012 5:42:09 PM
Subject: Re: Notification regarding restrictions on movement

Dear NLSIU community,
I am afraid that this latest notification comes across as a disproportionate and potentially counterproductive measure. Prof. V. Nagaraj (Registrar) had suggested the advancement of the permission time from 12:30 am to 9 pm in the faculty meeting that was held on November 8, 2012 i.e. a few days before the emergency meeting of the Executive Council on November 11, 2012. Yesterday’s notification indicates that the decision to implement this change is in pursuance of the deliberations in the Executive Council. Therefore, it would be safe to assume that both Prof. R. Venkata Rao (Vice-Chancellor) and Prof. V. Nagaraj can point to the minutes of the said meeting in order to defend this notification. However, the issue is far more complex than that.

In the faculty meeting, many of us had expressed our reservations about advancing the time for restricting the movement of students. At a very preliminary level, this measure has no rigorous causal link with the physical safety of students in general. While students have been and can be advised to avoid dangerous areas in the vicinity of the campus, imposing such blanket restrictions is an unduly paternalistic move. There have been numerous instances of sexual harassment and physical abuse of NLSIU staff and students in broad daylight. These problems cannot be eradicated with a simplistic measure such as constraining the movement of students after 9 pm. In fact such restrictions are likely to result in more students choosing to stay off-campus in the future, thereby escalating the risks to their physical safety. As the word gets out, it may also affect our attractiveness for prospective applicants, exchange students and visiting scholars among others. It is also quite foreseeable that not allowing students to enter after 9 pm may result in numerous instances where students can be left stranded in the vicinity. In addition to these practical concerns, there is a larger question of the symbolism inherent in the institution’s response. Given that these restrictions are clearly a knee-jerk response to a crime committed against one of our students, we are indirectly engaging in victim-blaming rather than addressing the root of the problem.

Another cause for worry is the opacity with which such a decision has been made. With all due respect, the members of the Executive Council are not well-informed of the ground realities of this institution. The constantly floating composition of these bodies and the relative detachment of their members is explicitly intended to ensure independent oversight over the affairs of the institution. However, they ought not to intervene in the day-to-day management of the institution. The role of the governing bodies is to make surgical interventions in case of a sustained pattern of institutional failure. Being an autonomous institution, the onus is on ourselves to keep our own house in order. In matters such as these, the leaders of the institution should have held meaningful consultations with all stakeholders, namely faculty, current students, parents and alumni before issuing such a notification. At the very least, the Vice-Chancellor and the Registrar could have explained their respective point of view in an open meeting for the NLS community. It is very easy to selectively ask a few individuals for their opinions and make sweeping decisions that have adverse consequences for the immediate stakeholders. I am afraid that this is exactly what seems to have happened in this instance.

I do realise that being in a temporary teaching position, whatever I say can be summarily brushed aside by the Vice-Chancellor,  the Registrar and the senior faculty members. The larger point worth examining at the moment is the gradual erosion of democratic practices within the NLSIU administration and faculty members. Educational institutions are not expected to be democracies in the strict sense, since the relationship between teachers and students is akin to that of trusteeship. However, there are certain norms of consultation and deliberation that should be followed among the faculty members as well as the administrative staff, irrespective of claims of seniority or past experience. The last few years have witnessed the non-continuance of weekly faculty meetings (the recent one being an exception) and an unprecedented centralisation of decision-making both with respect to academic and administrative matters.

I am not qualified to comment on administrative matters such as construction and fund-raising but I do have serious objections to the way in which the academic programs are being handled. I have already expressed my opposition to the untrammeled interference with evaluation through the Grievance Redressal Mechanism contemplated in the rules for the undergraduate program. The manner in which this provision has been interpreted and enforced over the last two academic years is a direct assault on teacher autonomy and thereby violative of the structural features of NLSIU. While there is no principled opposition to the inclusion of such a remedial power, the nature of these interventions has severely distorted the incentives for students and teachers alike to apply themselves to their expected roles. Given the absence of regular faculty meetings on academic issues (the Undergraduate Council has not met even once in the current academic year), there has been no forum to question the interpretation and enforcement of the said rule. Likewise, there seems to have been no vertical or horizontal check on teaching standards for quite a while. Several courses have more or less collapsed since they have either been allocated to instructors with no previous background in the respective fields or poorly-performing instructors have been allowed to continue in their roles on account of extraneous factors. In some cases, instructors have a self-aggrandized view of their own teaching capabilities whereas their actual performance is far below what students expect in an institution such as NLSIU. The most surprising factor is that the recommendations of administrative staff are often given more weightage in decisions about subject-allocation as opposed to the views of faculty members who are directly engaged in teaching. I can of course go on with a laundry-list of complaints, but that would detract from the issues at hand. The main point is that unless we revive the channels for deliberation that had been developed in the past, we will continue to make suboptimal and potentially harmful decisions.

I appeal to the Vice-Chancellor and the Registrar among others to prioritize the school’s long-term interests. We are of course very fortunate that the school has received UGC assistance for expanding the physical infrastructure and our leaders deserve their share of credit for the same. However, an institution such as ours has gained prestige for its academic rigour and the stimulus for self-exploration that it provides to its students. At the moment, both of these features appear to be in jeopardy.

…

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From: sidharth chauhan <…>
Date: Fri, Mar 1, 2013 at 5:43 PM
Subject: Statement on my dismissal from NLSIU
To:  <…>

Dear NLSIU community,

As most of you would have learnt by now, my services as a visiting faculty member at NLSIU have ended. I had received a notice for termination of service on January 31, 2013 and since I was in a temporary teaching position there was no obligation on the employer to state reasons for the same. There is no administrative or legal recourse in light of the nature of the service contract. Accordingly, I have removed my personal belongings from the residential and office space that had been assigned since July 2011.

While it is open to the Vice-Chancellor to attribute my dismissal to the Executive Council, let us not keep up with any pretence. Those who were present at the emergency meeting of the Executive Council (EC) on January 13, 2013 have confirmed that there was a resolution passed in that meeting which authorised Prof. R. Venkata Rao to act as he deemed fit in my case. This was evidently in response to the tabling of the e-mails which I had sent to all of you on December 12 and 13, 2012 as well as a private e-mail sent to the Vice-Chancellor on December 17, 2012. Hence, it is not plausible to say that my dismissal is unrelated to these e-mails which were openly critical of some of the Vice-Chancellor’s decisions in the recent past. It is clearly a decision made by Prof. R. Venkata Rao in the exercise of his own judgment, albeit under the authority of the EC. Needless to say, it reflects a retrograde approach which is out of place in a 21^st century law school. Institutions such as ours have evolved in an environment of self-criticism and open dialogue, both with respect to academic and administrative matters. However, the present incumbent has refused to recognize the instrumental as well as intrinsic value of deliberative decision-making, primarily by discontinuing the established practice of weekly faculty meetings. Furthermore, my dismissal comes across as a warning meant to discourage other members of the faculty and administrative staff from asking difficult questions. The head of the institution seems to have worked out a convenient strategy. He chooses to ignore the inputs and the opinions of the faculty members by refusing to call meetings and then hides behind the authority of the EC to push through ill-considered measures. Never mind that the EC has a floating membership that largely consists of sitting justices, practicing lawyers and civil servants who visit the school twice or thrice in an academic year and hardly have the time or the inclination to understand its inner workings.   

If there were indeed some other reasons behind this decision, those reasons should at least have been informally communicated to me before the issuance of the notice. Were there serious inadequacies in my own teaching? To the best of my knowledge, the feedback received from students has largely been on the positive side. My performance in the five regular courses that I have engaged so far has not been assessed either by the Undergraduate Council or the Academic Review Committee, which are the competent bodies in such matters. The deliberate neglect of these bodies is another issue that deserves comment elsewhere. I must also reiterate that I willingly took on teaching responsibilities for two regular subjects in the July-September 2012 trimester (Legal Methods with first year students and political theory with second year students). Barring a couple of exceptions, instructors at NLSIU have not taken on such a workload in more than a decade. Perhaps I had outlived my utility and the University has identified better qualified teachers for the subjects that have been assigned to me over the last two academic years. In the interest of the learning process, I request the Vice-Chancellor to share the names of the instructors who will now fit into these roles.

As I had tried to explain in the e-mails that have ostensibly led to my dismissal, we need to address the larger questions about the core features of NLSIU and its future as a site for meaningful teaching and research. Debating these questions is doubly important since there are at least fifteen autonomous law schools that have been established on the same pattern, with more likely to be set-up in the coming years. The present administration’s emphasis on construction and publicity may create a positive impression in the minds of occasional visitors but insiders can vouch for the marked decline in the taught programs. The ordinary incentives for students and teachers to apply themselves to their expected roles have been heavily distorted by the untrammeled interference with evaluation. Under the guise of the ‘Grievance Redressal Mechanism’ introduced in 2009, the present Vice-Chancellor has used his personal judgment to change grades in almost all subjects at the end of the academic year in 2010, 2011 and 2012 respectively. While these have been described as remedial interventions, they have given short shrift to accepted considerations of process such as revaluation by instructors with experience in the relevant subject. It is now evident that most of these interventions have been made by Prof. R. Venkata Rao alone. I must highlight that he has not taught a single course since the start of his tenure in May 2009 and his second-guessing of the subject-teachers’ evaluation is even more questionable since he is not involved in reviewing their performance through any formal channels. Under these circumstances, a section of the student body has also become accustomed to the liberal use of the ‘Grievance Redressal Mechanism’ with some of them openly questioning the need to apply themselves to their studies, perhaps in the belief that the Vice-Chancellor will protect them at the end of the academic year. In short, a remedial provision has been interpreted and enforced in such a manner that it has undermined the autonomy of the teachers as well as the integrity of the learning process.

It would have been far better if the Vice-Chancellor had confined his attention to administrative matters such as the organisation of events and fund-raising while leaving the academic decision-making to those who actually teach. It is difficult for any self-respecting instructor to work in the environment that prevails at present. It has also emerged that two of our most experienced faculty members chose to leave NLSIU in the recent past since decisions made by them (while holding the Undergraduate Chair) were frequently ignored or overturned by the present Vice-Chancellor. When one faculty member privately questioned the Vice-Chancellor about the irregular interference with evaluation, he vaguely referred to some directives of higher-ups in the Union Government and went on to caution that a high rate of failure could lead to unnecessary distress among students. While I agree with the broad proposition that the existing examination rules should be interpreted in a manner that is sensitive to the needs and interests of the students, it is difficult to justify the unprecedented manner in which the judgment of subject-teachers has literally been thrown into the bin. Such reasoning totally undermines the foundational characteristics of the institution. NLSIU was designed so as to be insulated from the pressures of partisan politics and short-term thinking that could undermine academic pursuits. Its’ autonomous character not only signifies independence from undue influence by external parties but also a certain degree of autonomy for its faculty and staff. While a centralized style of functioning maybe appropriate for some settings, it has no place in an academic institution that claims to be the national leader in the field of legal education. In the school built by Dr. N.R. Madhava Menon, the faculty, staff and students have a duty to constantly ask questions about their immediate environment so as to collectively work for its improvement. Building an academic institution is an arduous process and consolidating it is even harder. In the twenty-fifth year of its teaching programmes, the school can profit from more robust questioning of its own workings. By dismissing me and seeking to silence his critics, Prof. R. Venkata Rao is desperately trying to undermine the deliberative ethos of the institution. What is even more serious is the evident lack of communication amongst the faculty members. Given the absence of regular faculty meetings, there now seems to be a presumption of distrust among several factions as well as a reluctance to collaborate in meaningful pursuits. As outlined above, this is contrary to the culture of open minded discourse that we seek to inculcate among the students.

From the perspective of students, the culture of extracting concessions from the head of the institution now includes repeated and inexplicable extensions of term paper deadlines, condonation of attendance shortages and the conduct of special repeat examinations for flimsy reasons. The easy availability of such concessions translates into shoddy classroom engagement and obvious deficiencies in writing skills, even among the students in the advanced years of their studies. Perhaps these concessions are handed out to ensure a certain degree of popularity with the student-body. However, the net consequence is a serious dilution of the quality of education that is expected by those who seek admission to the NLSIU. In the long-run, this is bound to have a negative impact on the employment prospects of students graduating from this school as well as its hard-earned reputation. While some may yet make a comprehensible argument for such populism, it is difficult to ignore the myopic thinking reflected in some other academic decisions such as those of allocating subjects to instructors with no previous background in a given area. Subject-allocation in such an inexplicable manner has adverse effects on the learning outcomes for students while also being an imposition on the hapless instructors who are forced to teach subjects that they are not familiar with. Unsurprisingly, it is younger instructors in temporary positions who usually find themselves in such situations. Such working conditions are perhaps a harsh reality in poorly funded colleges located in remote areas. However, there is absolutely no excuse for the continuance of such practices in a supposedly elite institution.     

My motivation for taking up a teaching position at the NLSIU had germinated from my own experience as a student here a few years ago. The five years spent in this school helped me to move on from past failures and opened my eyes to a culture of open dialogue and self-reflection. The opportunity to interact with immensely talented peers was truly transformational. The initial discomfort with seemingly irritating questions about one’s own interests and background can easily morph into a life-long commitment to rational argumentation and lateral thinking. Not only does every student who passes through this school learn to overcome cultural stereotypes but there is also the sometimes unconscious inculcation of respect for diversity. Ten years after having started as a student, I can claim to have visited my friends in almost all parts of the country and even beyond, learning something about their culture along the way. I had decided to pursue a career in teaching by the time I reached the final year, primarily owing to close interaction with several faculty members as an office-bearer of the student body in 2006-07 and the opportunity to act as a teaching assistant in 2007-08. Even the decision to pursue a judicial clerkship after graduation was geared towards a teaching career.

While I am thankful to Prof. R. Venkata Rao for giving me the opportunity to teach at my alma mater for the last twenty months, such gratitude cannot be inflated to blind obedience. Please note that I am not loosely invoking philosophical anarchism. As participants in institutions, we are bound to hierarchies, but they must serve constructive and beneficial ends. If hierarchies function in an opaque manner, it is our duty to ask questions of those who claim power over us. Hopefully this is not the endgame for me at the NLSIU and there will be a chance to return on the other side of a doctoral degree and more importantly a leadership change that will see the restoration of the deliberative ethos of this institution. For now, I am in talks with another institution for possible employment in the next academic year, proceeding in the hope that the idea of an autonomous law school is not a lost cause.

…

http://www.livemint.com/Politics/xNFhxDuFymCtTFPLrUvuXI/Eye-on-foreign-investment-Sibal-approves-options-in-MA-PE.html

 I.                

The reason for writing this piece is the feeling of utter failure to comprehend the cultures of rape that engulf us. Even as the horrors of December 2012 Delhi gang rape continue to haunt public consciousness, the incident of the brutal rape of a five year old child has put our sense and sensibilities to an extraordinary challenge. How to evoke sensibilities and make sense of the images, narratives and news of the horrific rapes hurled on to us by newspapers, visual media and other allied sources, including judicial discourses, political statements and state interventions? How do we diagnose the foundations of our society that becomes instrumental in the production of such depravity and inhumanity that even a child is not spared from the acts of such horrific atrocity? So much so that the sadistic infliction of inexorable pain, with candles and plastic bottles inserted into the private parts, can become a form of decadent human expression?

Another facet of the sense of failure is the question to our own self? Do we write this paper today with such unease because of the gruesomeness of the incident or because the news is taken seriously and appeared on the first page of leading daily newspapers? We ask this as the atrocious rape encounters are spilled, though in smaller fonts, all over in the print as well as visual media after December 2012. Why did we need yet another horrific story to evoke a similar sense of failure of contemplation or the urge to write? Is it the post traumatic incident of institutional insensitivity and indifference, as the police not just attempted to hush up the matter (by offering the parents Rs. 2000) but also violently attacked a woman protesting against the police callousness? It seems that the sense of failure to think about the problem of rape, and for us, as legal academics, from a limited canon of law, prompts us to ask the reverse question framed in Nietzschen terms: how not to think about rape and cultures of rape.

The one thing that we certainly do not want to do in this discussion is to make specific policy recommendations as to how to interpret or change the law relating to rape. Perhaps, a trap too easy and too tempting to fall into especially for those trained in the discipline of law. This consequentialist, policy-oriented turn of the present legal scholarship can at times hamper the proper structural issues of decoding the culture of rape. We are certainly not opposed to policy recommendations in principle. As teachers of law we have had occasions in classrooms as well as in doctrinal scholarship to take that route. However, we need to question the frantic activity of policy recommendations and churning out changes in laws that blinds us to the sensibility that must inform us in the very framing of issues relating to rape, which reduces humanity to mere objects of consumption to be used and then thrown away.

  II.              

 “Two sex maniacs libidinously ravaged a tiny female tot like wild beasts and finished her off. Police after investigation found that the two respondents herein are those two fiends.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 – State of NCT v. Sunil

“The remnants of extensive mangling of the tender body of the child would reflect the possibility of more than one rapist subjecting the child to such beastly ravishment.”

                                                                                                      State of NCT v. Sunil

 “Accused Saleem who offered custard apple to the little girl when they reached the graveyard suddenly turned himself into a demon and made a forcible attempt to ravish her.”

                                                                                                            State of A.P. v. Sheikh Mazhar

“It seems that Manoj Kumar’s father had an inkling of the demon in his son.”

HT, Rapist’s father had disowned him from his property (20th April, 2013)

The discourse of rape emanating from cultures of rape remains entrenched in the dehumanization of the rapist. The TV images show the accused handcuffed, surrounded by cops with cameras desperate to catch a glimpse of what lies beneath the face covered accused. These projections stimulate the imagery of devils/ beasts concealed behind the mask. When the mask comes off- as it did for Ajmal Kasab, another “demon”- the responses are of astonishment at the visible humanness of the demon. The same flesh, same skin and an innocent young human face! Clearly that is not what demons look like. This is not what such “demons” should look like.  And thus starts the project of dehumanization of these visible humans.

The rapist (as a terrorist) is described and projected as a “wild beast”, “a demon”, “a fiend”. Such a description puts the rapist in a class of heinous monsters, a class far removed from the ordinary human beings. This is one way of telling ourselves (the civilized and responsible moral agents) that the doers of such grotesque crimes are not in any manner like ourselves, they are too distant from us. The distancing (through which we constitute our own humanity) can only happen if the representations and descriptions of the rapist are directed to evoke the emotion of disgust in the viewers/ readers. Since, as encapsulated by Martha Nussbaum, “(o)ur disgust creates the boundary: it says, this contamination is and must remain far from our bodies. We might even say…that we call disgust to our aid: by allowing ourselves to see evil people as disgusting, we conveniently distance them from ourselves” (Susan A. Bandies (ed.), The Passions of Law at p. 51).

Evoking disgust for the rapist by dehumanizing him produces an alienation of our human selves from him. It creates a distance between our humanity and his fiendishness and thus prevents us from engaging in a self-scrutiny, of recognizing in ourselves the capacity to be evil. The distancing prevents us from confronting the fact that we are capable of turning into the diabolic evil that we abhor. And thus, induces a forgetfulness of the everyday atrocities that we may be committing (covertly) when we indulge (unconsciously) in our own perversions. Disgust induced distancing from the rapist obliterates all discussions around the normalization of everyday violence of everyday lives that goes unnoticed because we fail to look within as we situate ourselves within an imagined humanity which the rapist lacks. Otherwise, how do we begin to understand the normalization of the apparatuses and structures which legitimize violence against women in the society? When the sexist representations of women- when they are cast into strict gender roles defined by dominant heteronormative structures- go unquestioned by most of us even if such representations constitute the everyday violence (not necessarily physical) of work places, public transport, markets and even the safe bounds of our homes. What can be made of the Criminal Law Amendment Act, 2013 that completely ignored the recommendation of the Verma Committee Report exhorting for criminalization of marital rape? Is it not true that law reforms have failed to question the asymmetrical character of marriage reinforcing an object-like treatment of women and thus continue to legitimize violent structures in the private lives of women? How far then can the attempts at reforms and amendments of laws be taken seriously?

The rape discourse as a discourse of dehumanization of the rapist deepens the cultures of rape that produce emotions that oscillate between un-mindful retributive cries of anger to sheer apathy and indifference. The responses to violence against women in these cultures also swing between rhetorical law reforms that institutionalize retributive anger through aggravated punishments and death penalties, and an attitude of forgetfulness as we change the channel from NDTV news to NDTV Good Times, or for that matter shift our glance from the news of rape at the front page top column to the advertisements that promise us dream lives that we can buy with nothing but money. This point needs further explanation.

 III.            

Slavoj Zizek argues that the imaginary virtual reality, floating around through images of print and visual media, constitutes the reality of the contemporary society. It works so strongly and incessantly that the meanings of virtual reality surface as the reality of the virtual. And if that is so, then how does the reality of the virtual propagate the cultures of rape that we encounter?

Consider some images from the front page of a leading newspaper which reported the rape of 5 year old “Masoom”:

The five year old lies covered in a sheet as she is taken to AIIMS from Swami Dayanand Hospital where she underwent life-saving surgery. Three dolls on the stretcher accompany her as some helpers clear way for the stretcher. A box below lists the brutal horrific injuries that were inflicted on her: bite marks on cheeks, lips and chest, cuts on neck probably from blade like object, 200ml cracked plastic bottle of hair oil and three candles that were taken out of her vagina.

A passport size image of ACP BS Ahlawat slapping Beenu Singh who was protesting against police apathy and laxity.

A half page advertisement of workwear showing a happy couple, dressed in western attire, walking along exuding confidence and in complete equality. Skyscrapers and the modern city life set the background for this joyous and equal public space when men and women are equally successful, rich and safe. Provided they “Go Trendy. Strike Deal. Refresh. Get New Yorked”.

A real estate advertisement of a five bedroom luxury villa. It says: Opulence, Rs. 10.03 Cr. Onwards.

There are some issues that need to be examined here. Whether there exists a relationship, worthy of exploration, between the cultures of rape that thrust upon us an unwanted reality and the cultures of consumerism that we want to be immersed into in order to live our dreams? If yes, then how can that relationship be conceived? What does it say of our vision of progress? When images of reality and images of unreality confront each other what impact does it have on real lives? What is the relationship between the dominant images/ narratives of rape/ rapist with the other virtual images that we confront every day in our lives? What happens, as John Berger puts it, when images of reality confront the images of unreality? How can words that express anguish and agony of the feeble cries of a 5 year old victim be understood when they are juxtaposed with words and images that promise us lives of happiness and equality as we progress, as we prosper?

Juxtaposition of publicity images of products of globalization and their consumers (take for example, the images of workwear wardrobe bringing in happiness and equality in sexes at the workplace; mobile phones and cheap call rates bringing radiance into relationships; clean RO water assuring security from all fatal disease and so on) with the images of horror and agony stimulates a similar distancing as mentioned above. What happens in the images of unreality- the happiness, the dreams, the pleasures- is something that we think would happen to us (provided we gather enough money to acquire these possessions); while what happens in the images of everyday reality- rape, harassment, state apathy, perversions- is something that is far from us and cannot happen to us. Just as the rape discourse distances us from our own perversions (by producing a false distance between our humanity and rapist’s monstrousness), the culture of consumerism distances us from the reality that demands serious deliberation and well thought out political and social action. The publicity images that astound us create for us alternate lives where living in dreams and for dreams becomes our only life.

All the images mentioned above look real (virtual imaginary reality reflected in images cannot be convincing if they do not look as real, if not more, than the real images). But there is clearly a disconnect and an incoherence between the rape/ molestation image and the image of equality in workplace/ public sphere which figures prominently on the same page of the newspaper. While reality decries the position of women in society- as means to an end, as tools that can be used for one’s own interests, as bodies that can be violated because they lack bodily integrity- the virtual images make the reality of the former unrecognizable. The urgency of deliberative action to correct the injustices that surround us (that is evoked by Masoom’s tiny body covered in a white sheet), is diluted as we see our dreams depicted in advertisements that exhort us to consume more if we are to become more equal and more happy. Images of dreams are the required distraction for the sustenance and flourishing of the culture of consumerism that reduces everything to an object of consumption. While on the one hand they yield an ineffective response to violence (Criminal Law Amendment Act, 2013 has been nothing but a knee-jerk reaction, presented as a quick fix solution to rape which has failed to foreground the larger issue of the relationship between sexism that is a part of everyday lives and rape), on the other hand, they cement the attitudes that look at women as objects to be used and consumed like other objects on sale.

What is then required is an urgent emphasis on the cultural patterns of objectification of women especially the ‘culture industry’ which thrives to reduce everything into a consumable commodity. This includes women as well as men. In doing so we inadvertently create paradigms where women and men are not organic individuals who think, love, have dignity and suffer alike but as body-parts to be displayed for market campaigns. Such crass market logic reduces human bodies as the only attribute of being human and that attribute being best used as a consumable commodity. This by no means suggests that one should take a fascist turn against the market forces but certainly makes one re-think the way we are socialized into behaviors and patterns that reduce human beings into human bodies and human bodies into marketable and consumable commodities.

The relationship between cultures of consumption and cultures of rape (that thrive on objectification of women) is direct. The culture of consumption is founded on the ideas of use (of products) and domination (one who has money has the power gets to consume more). The attitude this breeds is that all things are meant for usage and they can be acquired and controlled with money. Then, is it appropriate to ask: Whether Delhi has become the rape capital because it is one of the global cities basking in the glory of consumerism, where status of a person is determined by his/her wealth and ability to acquire and consume? Is it the attitude of consumerism (which also trickles down to those who cannot consume right now because of lack of money, but nevertheless have the desire to consume because consumption defines happiness) that has conceptualized all our relationships and our entire world view? Have women become the targets of this attitude when they are looked at, gazed and used as nothing but interchangeable bodies or as means to an end, rather than ends in themselves? The objectification of women is then not about sexual perversion only; it is about a culture that values money as the only end and turns everything else into an object for consumption.

(The authors are Assistant Professors at Jindal Global Law School of O.P. Jindal Global University)

[The cover photograph is in the public domain and is sourced from the US National Archives and Records Administration]

A bride-to be dressed in lehenga and fleets is sitting on a dharna outside a showroom in one of Delhi’s luxury malls. What may appear like a scene straight out of a movie might just be one approach to seek reprisal from a deceitful trader. For those of you who consider this rather extreme, reviewing and sharing experiences online would just prove to be equally effective at protecting consumers. Here is why we think ‘responsible consumerism’ warrants emphasis and is a necessary tool in safeguarding the rights of the Indian consumer.

Like any 20 something bride-to-be, I have been have scouring high and low for that most important of important dresses – my wedding dress.  However, a recent experience with an alleged premier designer has shed a light on practices that most likely go unchecked throughout our land. Now, whether you are a shopper on a mission like me or a casual shopper, you know that shopping doesn’t always go right. That suit you bought online looks completely different from the catalogue on its arrival. Your prepaid phone is short of a few hundred bucks for the ringtone service that you never ordered. That bottle of mineral water which cost more than its maximum retail price (MRP)  just because you happened to be hiking at a tourist spot. Or the refusal of the seller to refund the advance you paid to book a dress less than 36 hours earlier. The last scenario is unfortunately what I encountered with a supposed top designer duo based at DLF Emporio – a mall epitomizing luxury in the capital. Though the dress was merely ‘booked’  and not purchased, possessed, or altered, the designer refused to return the advance and only offered a credit note. The ordeal took an interesting turn when she sprinkled details of her familial ties – a brother in the Ministry and a cousin serving as the Assistant Commissioner of Police. But of course, we were “free to take any action”. Although both a wedding and a court case appear to be on the cards for me in the next few months, it got me thinking: do consumers know their rights in the marketplace? And while a lengthy court battle may be unavoidable, what else can we as consumers do to uphold the integrity of the market?

Every year, the 15th of March is observed as World Consumers Rights Day and it represents an opportunity for us to look back on our rights and more importantly our responsibilities as consumers. India’s relatively recent rise as a world economic power has had the fortunate side effect of a middle class that is larger and more prosperous than ever before. It is this middle class that is both the envy and target of multinational corporations around the world. Although we Indians continue to enjoy increasing variety and choice in the marketplace, knowledge of our rights and protections has not kept pace. ‘Consumer is sovereign’ is but a myth in the present scenario and ‘Jaago grahak jaago’ is certainly a need of the hour. India is aeons behind its western counterparts when it comes to the protection of consumer rights as well as responsible consumerism. As a result, although marketplace choices in India are vast, the dangers of unscrupulous practices are aplenty. Our legal institutions do provide safeguards against certain unfair practices. However, these laws can only serve their intended use if consumers are aware of their existence.

While it is beyond the scope of this article to highlight the details of consumer protections that Indians enjoy, it does bear reminding that many stem from the Consumer Protection Act (1986), such as the right to be informed about the quality, quantity, potency and purity of goods; the right to choice; and right to seek redressal against unfair trade practices. It is the responsibility of Indians as intelligent consumers to have at least some knowledge of these protections. However, a lack of desire is certainly understandable. Our judicial process unfortunately suffers from delays and administrative roadblocks at most times. It is not uncommon for consumers to shy away from the protection of the courts, citing a long and arduous legal battle. As a result, one has to wonder at times, how beneficial are such protections when the path to legal recourse is littered with obstacles?  A fair point indeed. While it is the responsibility of citizens to enact and demand change, such worthwhile progress will undoubtedly take time to occur. In the meantime, consumers can seize control of their marketplaces both by investing and putting more stock in sellers’ reputations.

Unless incidents of unfair acts are made visible, our consumers’ society as a whole suffers. As George Akerlof noted in his Nobel prize winning treatise, economic marketplaces where unscrupulous merchants or ‘bad lemons’ are allowed to evade detection ultimately deteriorate. While this is certainly an extreme outcome, it highlights the responsibility we all share on World Consumers Rights Day to be aware of our statutory rights, and to spotlight merchants who deserve our ire. The reputation of merchants is ever the more important in a country where legal institutions are less than efficient. As one can surely imagine, the experiences that other consumers have had with a vendor can be particularly helpful in warning a future consumer or in encouraging that same consumer to visit the store. However, a merchant’s reputation is only as good as the information on which it is based. As a result, we as consumers have a responsibility to highlight and spread the word of practices – both good and bad. When a seller sells you a substandard good, or when it promises one item but delivers another, make it your responsibility to make that action visible to the marketplace as a whole. By the same measure, if a merchant consistently delivers a good on time as per specifications, or if he surpasses your expectations, shine a light. When consumers can assess the quality of a product or merchant through the prior experiences of others, it  will significantly diminish the ability of ‘bad lemons’ to hide in the market. Eventually, such merchants will exit the market and all consumers will benefit. Consumers in Western marketplaces enjoy several avenues through which they can share and collect information on merchants. Online reputation websites such as Yelp and the rating systems on Amazon.com allow consumers to share their experiences and have a significant effect on the financial fortunes of merchants – both in a positive and negative respect. Such websites are in their infancy stage here in India, but there is no reason why Yelp cannot be extended to the Indian context, as long as there are consumers who are willing to invest time and share their experiences. Furthermore, certifications from non-profit organizations such as the Better Business Bureau (BBB) carry significant weight and provide assurance to customers in the United States that a vendor is trustworthy. While the Better Business Bureau has a registered office in Kolkota, its presence and stature in India has a very long way to go to.

On this World Consumer Rights Day, let us remind ourselves of our rights as consumers to expect fair and transparent transactions. At the same time, we must accept responsibility as consumers. While legal recourse is our right as citizens, it is unfortunately not always the most expedient path. An attractive complement to legal action would be to attack the reputation of deceitful traders in an organized fashion. By sharing our experiences with the media and through online websites that aggregate consumer sentiment, we can ensure that unscrupulous sellers have an increasingly hard time surviving in a more transparent marketplace. Either way, if you are the victim of an unjust act, do yourself a favour and spread the word.

[Image Attribution: By Bob With from Fresno, United States (Consumer madness at Costco Uploaded by Gary Dee) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons]

Slowing economic growth, a bloated government deficit and a desperate need to boost investment. Such were the grim circumstances under which Finance Minister P Chidambaram stepped up in parliament on Thursday to deliver the last budget before general elections in 2014. The build-up was immense and expectations were running high. Although the Budget was never going to be a silver bullet making India’s economic woes magically disappear, it did present Mr Chidambaram with the perfect opportunity to set the scene for a healthier economy and convince financial markets that the government is committed to bringing India back on a sustainable path of growth. This was seeming all the more probable because of the bold and encouraging actions taken recently, like hiking rail fares for the first time in a decade and allowing companies to raise diesel prices in small monthly increments. But in the event, the Budget disappointed, with a long list of small policy measures, but no real efforts to address the broader problems plaguing the economy.

India’s fiscal deficit has widened considerably since 2010 and the sovereign credit rating is hovering just one notch above junk status. So the threat of a rating downgrade is one of the most imminent risks to the economic outlook at the moment. Being fully cognizant of this, Mr Chidambaram was careful to deliver a “responsible” Budget, with no obvious giveaways, despite the upcoming elections next year. But the policies announced to rein in the deficit lacked vision and appear to be aimed at short-term gains. For instance, there was an undue focus on cutting capital expenditure, which according to the government’s estimates has been slashed by INR 75,000 crore in 2012/13. While this may well have the desired effect of hitting the deficit target of 5.3% of GDP this fiscal year, it is an unsustainable strategy that risks hurting the economy’s supply potential in the medium- to long-term. In the same vein, while the 10% surcharge for people earning INR 1 crore or more per annum is likely to increase tax revenues in the short-term, its effectiveness is questionable in the long-term. Not only does it raise the risk of tax evasion, it could also discourage highly paid individuals from working in India, which would eventually hurt growth as well. These policies, while barely sufficient to prevent the sovereign credit rating from being downgraded to junk status, just don’t have what is required to get the economy back to its potential growth rate of around 8%.

Instead of resorting to these quick-fix measures for bringing down the budget deficit, Mr Chidambaram would have been better off focusing on cutting current expenditure, which is a more efficient and pro-growth approach. But in this regard, he fell short of expectations of spelling out further detail on reducing fuel subsidies – a process which had already begun in September 2012 when diesel prices were raised by 45 paise per litre.

Another pressing need of the hour is to enhance private sector investment. In this respect the Budget admittedly contained a number of encouraging measures. The 15% investment allowance for a company investing Rs. 100 crore or more on plant or machinery; increased spending on infrastructure investment; and the emphasis on expediting pending investment projects by setting up a special Cabinet Committee are all, in principle, very promising. But how efficiently these measures will be implemented is debateable. For instance, there is no credible basis to believe that the Cabinet Committee will indeed deliver on the promise of removing regulatory bottlenecks for planned investment projects, while spending on infrastructure projects could easily be subject to delays as well.

The dilapidated condition of the power sector also needs urgent attention. While the intention to reduce dependence on coal imports in the medium-term by enhancing coal production through public private partnerships is broadly sensible, there was no proper detail on how this would be achieved. By way of reassurance, Mr Chidambaram felt it sufficed to say that this was under “active consideration” with further details to be announced in “due course”.

All in all, the 2013 Budget was devoid of radical ideas and was a lost opportunity at a time when the nation is teetering on the brink of an economic crisis. While Mr Chidambaram made all the right noises with regard to the need for fiscal consolidation, inclusive growth, boosting investment and so on and so forth, he failed to follow them up with credible policy responses leaving a dark cloud of uncertainty still hanging over the economic outlook.

On my first day in Law School, as a vaguely clueless kid, all of seventeen years, I entered the library, and wandered around until I found my way to the top floor. Seeing a senior sitting there, I went up to him, and asked, “Could you recommend to me a book about the law?” He looked at me quizzically. “What do you mean by that?” “You know… a book about what law is.” By now, he’d probably recognised that I was a first year, and utterly lost. “Do you mean jurisprudence?” I’d heard my father once talk about “jurisprudence” as if it was something nice. I nodded vaguely. “I don’t know. I think so.” He grinned. “You do mean jurisprudence. Come with me.” He took me to the NLS Juris section, and pulled out The Concept of Law. ”Here, this should give you a good place to start.” He paused. “Or, if you’re feeling adventurous…” He walked a little distance, and pulled out a purple book with a vaguely statuesque, wreathed female figure on the cover, and the emblazoned title that read: Taking Rights Seriously. He grinned again. “Try this. And in your next legal methods class, tell Rahul Singh that you’ve been reading Dworkin.”

And that was the first time I heard the name of Ronald Dworkin, a name that would go on to become one of the most familiar things in the world, conjuring up, the moment it was spoken, a raft of thoughts, feelings, emotions, memories. I didn’t read Taking Rights Seriously, then. I didn’t read jurisprudence at all, through my first year of college. But then came constitutional law. Suddenly, there were a host of issues that I found myself passionately interested in. Free speech. The freedom of religion. Equality. Personal liberty. What were these words that sounded so alluring, and yet bore the faintly vague promise of the breaking of barriers, of constraints, of… danger? What did they mean? What were all these arguments about? I went back to the juris and the political philosophy shelves, and quite by chance, my eyes alighted upon Freedom’s Law. I took a look at the list of contents. Seemed interesting enough. I took it down and started to read. And a world exploded in my head. A constitutive conception of democracy. What was this radical way of thinking, about a democracy that didn’t treat the vote of the majority as determinative? What were these words, “equal concern and respect“, that seemed to lie at the heart of a new, compelling order of things? And above all else, the writing, oh, the writing, so beautiful, so simple, so elegant, so utterly, absolutely, bewitchingly compelling. I was hooked. I read Freedom’s Law. I read A Matter of Principle. I tried to read Taking Rights Seriously. I don’t think I understood much, back then (I don’t know how much I understand now). But I knew that I had found a voice that spoke to me, a voice that made thinking seem beautiful, a voice that, by turns, surprised, astounded, bewildered and outraged, but never failed to inspire.

Because Dworkin didn’t just write legal or political philosophy; he created a world, a world that you wanted to believe in with all your heart, to argue for, to fight to build and protect, if it came to that. It was a world of liberal egalitarianism, of individual rights, of strong and principled judicial ‘activism’ (a word that I know D would disapprove of), a world of – to use his own words – “equal concern and respect“. A world of Brown v Board of Education, Roe v Wade, American Booksellers v Hudnut and Lawrence v Texas. I am no longer as entranced by that world as I once was; but Dworkin, as its exponent, was utterly convincing.

In my fourth year, after having read and re-read Dworkin’s political philosophy, I finally summoned up the courage to tackle Law’s Empire. And, just like in the case of TRS, I felt the frisson all over again, and in all its glory. Interpretation. What a marvelous idea. The philosophers of courtesy. Interpretive concepts. And then came that bit about intention, literary theory, art and constructive interpretation. It was frisson after frisson then, explosion after explosion, a hurricane, a typhoon of ideas swirling in my head, clashing dissonantly with each other, din, chaos, confusion, disharmony, disarray, and oh, all so beautiful. Dilthey. Gadamer. Habermas. Stanley Cavell. Language. Literature. Law. Hamlet, for heaven’s sake! If there has ever been a time when a single text transformed my life, it was the time I first read Chapter Two of Law’s Empire. It changed the way I read, the way I understood, it changed the very way that I thought. And everything that I’ve done since then can, I think, in one way, be traced back to that wild, trembling reading of Chapter Two.

I read all of Law’s Empire, went back and read Taking Rights Seriously, and then back and forth, criss-crossing through Dworkin’s corpus. Gradually he converted me from being vehemently anti-abortion to qualifiedly pro, from being in favour of banning pornography to being entirely opposed to any form of ban, from being supportive of restrictions on free speech to being in opposition to them. In short, I was moving across the spectrum from social conservative to social liberal, purely on the reasoned eloquence, the gentle yet firm and persistant argumentation, and the utterly inspiring vision of Ronald Dworkin. He was a segue into other things: Rawls, Hart, Raz, Berlin, Hayek, Nozick – Dworkin was the foundation, the starting point, the fount of ideas and engagements, and the ultimate point of comparison. When I came out of college, I had developed – in however vague and ill-defined a sense – a “philosophy of life”. At the heart of it was Dworkinian liberalism.

And that, I think, is what makes Ronald Dworkin so special, so central, so integral a figure in my own, individual life’s journey. There is a time in our lives, I feel, when we first experience the need to define ourselves for ourselves, and to position ourselves in relation to others, to the rest of the world. A time in our lives when we first feel the irresistible pull of those tortuous, haunting questions: how should I live? What ought I do? What is true, good, right, just? What is the meaning of it all? It is a time when we first begin to struggle with our own sense of the self, and with a world that is out of joint, where everything seems by turns senseless and hopeless, when nihilism is a step and a shadow away. And I think that at that time, there is nothing more important than to have a guide, a Virgil taking Dante through hell, a set of signposts, a voice that can bring a semblance of order to the maelstrom of our thoughts. And I don’t mean someone who can give us answers – but rather, a compass, a point of reference, that safe harbour from which we can begin our journey, always knowing that we can sail back to it for a while, to rest and recover, if the open sea becomes too frightening. Someone who can set us thinking, in some direction. The rest, I believe, is up to us – but the point of reference is critical. Dworkin was – is – my point of reference.

I’m grateful to Dworkin because I cannot imagine having selected – albeit through pure luck – a better point of reference. That is not because I think he’s correct (I don’t anymore, not entirely), but because he taught me to think. He taught me to question the premises of every argument, to critically imagine my own deepest, most naked convictions, to follow where the argument leads, and above all else, to never stop arguing, questioning and thinking. He taught me that there are no absolutes, no positions that are beyond criticism, modification or reversal, no questions that are or can be off the table, no ideas that ought ever to be taken for granted. For six years, since the time I first ‘discovered’ him, he has been with me, that voice, again, that always reminds me to take nothing for granted, assume no axioms, establish no postulates, think, think, think. But parallel to that, he has taught me also that there are questions worth thinking about; things that matter, issues that count. He has saved me from both mocking cynicism and Thrasymachean amoralism, one of which two seem to infect so many of the people I see around me, and in doing so, has taught me to believe that there can be a meaning to life, and that one must always strive to seek it, even though, like the horizon, it always recedes from your grasp. I do not think that there can be a greater service that one human being may render to another.

I came to Oxford a confirmed Dworkinian. Not the most comfortable of positions to take in the home of analytical positivism. I was apprehensive, at the beginning of the BCL year, that the heirs of Joseph Raz would, through sheer intellectual power, convert me to their side, and the vision of Dworkin was one that I did not want to give up. The exact opposite happened. I brought all my Dworkinian bloody-mindedness to class, spending all my year defending – or trying to defend – Dworkin. I told Professor John Gardner that he perhaps hadn’t quite taken theoretical disagreement into account.  I spoke about plovers’ eggs to Professor Green. I took along Law’s Empire to Professor Finnis’ class, holding it up and reading out passages like some circus showman, to make the point that Dworkin had been misrepresented by his critics. I suggested to Professor Endicott that, if he examined his own position closely enough, he would find that he was a Dworkinian. I texted my friend telling him that Nicos Stavropoulos’ exegesis of Dworkinian interpretivism was so beautiful, that it showed Dworkin’s structure for the magnificent, coherent whole that it was so perfectly, that it had brought tears to my eyes. I walked with another friend in the Balliol Fellows’ Garden, saying things like “But why can’t they bloody see that Dworkin is just… bloody… right! It’s blindingly obvious… isn’t it?” I messaged a third with stuff like “Today, I argued for fifteen minutes with Professor Endicott, and at the end he said… “that’s… interesting.” Yes!!!” It was the taking up of lances, the riding out the joust, the thrill of (trying to) cross swords with the foremost men of jurisprudence, in defence of a man and a set of ideas that I was passionately committed to. It was fun. It was brilliant. It was life. And then, in the middle of the year,Justice for Hedgehogs came out. I bought my copy at Blackwell’s the first time I saw it, and stayed up all night reading it. It was, of course, the last of Dworkin’s books, and the last of my frissons on reading a new Dworkin work. It was a beautiful synthesis, the coming together of a lifetime’s work on law, politics and moral philosophy; and as I read it that night I saw, once and only once, not just law, but the world, the whole world, according to Dworkin: coherence, elegance, simplicity, beauty – the final, harmonious coming together of all things. I have never seen it that way since, but the blinding power of that vision has remained with me, and one of the most beautiful things that Dworkin has done for me is to make me believe if for but one moment, that such a world is possible to imagine.

I applied for an MPhil on Dworkin (of course). What better way to spend a year than reading Dworkin? And over the last few months, the journey has taken me to wild and unexpected places: to literary theory, via Stanley Fish, Derrida, Bakhtin and Foucault; to the philosophy of language, via Wittgenstein, McDowell and Hacker; to aesthetics, via Roger Scruton; and to radical political theory, via Marx. It’s been utterly wild. I’ve gone off in random directions based on my hunches on reading a line in Law’s Empire here, a sentence in Hedgehogs there, a phrase in TRS, and so on. Yet although it’s been random, it’s been incredibly enriching. Although I now find myself disagreeing with Dworkin as much as I agree with him, although I no longer find the ideal of coherence and harmony as compelling as I once did, it’s because he created in me the urge to question. And although I am as confused and lost as I was six years ago, it’s been some ride along the way!

I had a dream. That after finishing my MPhil, I would send it to Dworkin, and he would tell me what he thought - whatever it was – about my bumbling, year-long efforts to defend his legal philosophy against the positivists. I did dream of finally meeting him, and I imagined our conversation many, many times in my head. Now time has killed the dream… like it kills so much else.

–

In my journey along the path I have taken, the study of law, there are two men without whom I would (for better or for worse) be nothing today. One of them is gone. That’s why, today, I feel bereft. That’s why, despite never having met the man, I feel like I’ve lost someone very close to a parent. Although I will return to his work, now, and in the future, again and again and again, I can never again imagine the presence behind those beautiful words. That voice, so powerful, so eloquent, so… liberal, is forever stilled. And the world is a poorer place for it.

What comforts me is that until the very end, he wrote. He wrote in defence of the causes he believed in, the ideas he was passionate about, the things he thought mattered most. He was shattering his lances in the joust even as death whispered a lullaby, he was on the field until the last sun set forever. Like Voltaire, nothing could halt his pen but the grave. And for me, there can be no better example of a life lived well and long, in service of cause and ideal. If I can die like that after having lived like that, I think I will die happy. Because, as Dworkin once told us…

“On occasions like this one it is hard to resist speaking directly to young scholars who have not yet joined a doctrinal army. So I close with this appeal to those of you who plan to take up legal philosophy. When you do, take up philosophy’s rightful burdens, and abandon the cloak of neutrality. Speak for Mrs Sorensen and for all the others whose fate depends upon novel claims about what the law already is. Or, if you can’t speak for them, at least speak to them, and explain why they have no right to what they ask. Speak to the lawyers and judges who must puzzle about what to do with the new Human Rights Act. Don’t tell the judges that they should exercise their discretion as they think best. They want to know how to understand the Act as law, how to decide, and from what record, how freedom and equality have now been made not just political ideals but legal rights. If you help them, if you speak to the world in this way, then you will remain more true to Herbert Hart’s passion and genius than if you follow his narrower ideas about the character and limits of analytic jurisprudence. I warn you, however, that if you set out in this way, then you are in grave danger of being, well, interesting.”

[Image Attribution: By David Shankbone. (Own work.) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)], via Wikimedia Commons]

A film that begins with an insurgent being tortured into revealing crucial intelligence? Surely they follow that with one of the characters making a speech about the wrongness of torture? What, there isn’t so much as a single line about the futility of torture but instead they portray the torturers sympathetically, as non-sadistic people who take no visible pleasure in their task? There must have been a scene where the victim of torture is revealed to be utterly innocent at the very least, right? Nope, he’s responsible for a terrorist attack. Then there can be no other conclusion except that Zero Dark Thirty is a pro-torture film! 

The Indian welfare state is set for a reinvention, as subsidies of all kinds are in the process of being monetized.  Some commentators view this effort as a hastily thought-out big push in an election year.  Meanwhile, the Government’s selling point is that cash transfers will bypass the existing welfare machinery and deliver benefits straight to the people.  Aapka Paisa, Aapke Haath  (“Your money in your hands”) is the pithy campaign slogan that is meant to convince the people of the reform’s value.  Yet we need to analyze whether this sort of direct transfer of purchasing power is possible and, even if it is, whether the Indian state is capable of delivering cash to the people in a reliable way.

On the former issue, of the feasibility of transferring purchasing power through cash, economists have long touted the greater efficiency of cash in enabling poor households to purchase goods and services that they need.  Empirical studies of cash transfer programs support this claim.  Of course, switching to cash makes sense if the cash transfer bestows purchasing power on households that is equal to the value of the subsidy that the households receive currently.  In other words, a transfer of purchasing power in cash only works if it is equivalent to the current transfer of purchasing power in subsidies.  In a narrow technical sense, this would require that cash transfers be indexed to regional, and preferably, local measures of inflation for essential commodities.  This is administratively complex and may not even be feasible.  Given the lack of competition in rural agricultural markets, prices of food, kerosene and other essential commodities may increase with an influx of cash.   The cash transfer pilot for kerosene in Kokrasim in Alwar district provides a sobering example: the cash transferred was insufficient for families to purchase their monthly requirement of kerosene, as market price increased substantially.

The latter issue, of the Indian state’s capability to implement the cash transfer program, is of equal concern.  A series of challenges immediately come to mind when thinking about how the cash transfer will be implemented:

Identification and Targeting: The UIDAI has issued an estimated 280 million UID cards over the course of three years, meaning that 800 million more cards need to be issued before April 2014, when the cash transfer is set to cover the entire country.  Such a vast increase in the rate of issuing cards seems unlikely.  Furthermore, while the Government plans to target the transfer based on a census identifying socioeconomic status and caste, Union Rural Development Minister Jairam Ramesh claims that this census will only be completed in July 2013, several months after the transfer is planned to be rolled out to 18 of 28 states (others suggest that this timeline may be wishful thinking).  Even after compiling this eligibility list, there is no guarantee that it will accurately identify the poor.  Many non-poor households have finagled their way onto BPL lists, for example, leaving the poor behind.  In 2009, a National Advisory Council panel estimated that only 39% of households deemed “poor” had received a BPL or Antyodaya card.

Financial Instruments and Bank Accounts: Financial access is a key element of the cash transfer, both because cash will be delivered directly to beneficiaries’ bank accounts and because beneficiaries need a way to access the cash in their accounts.  The status quo in India on both fronts is discouraging.  A recent World Bank study estimates bank account penetration across India at 35%, and is even lower for the poorest households.  Moreover, as many (particularly rural) poor households do not have access to bank branches or ATMs, it appears as though the Government will pursue a model whereby “banking correspondents” (essentially roving banking agents) will administer a system of micro-ATMs.  The problem is that banking correspondents only cover 70,000 villages at present, and will need to grow tenfold by the April 2014 countrywide rollout of the transfer.

Grievance Redressal: In the event that all of the aforementioned challenges are adequately addressed, there will undoubtedly be cases of non-payment, late payment, or inadequate payment to beneficiaries.  In these cases, it remains unclear how citizens will be able to file grievances and how these grievances will be redressed by the Government.  These same issues plague another of India’s massive social programs, MGNREGA.  Government reports and household surveys indicate that the lack of a grievance redressal mechanism in NREGA has allowed states to drag their feet on resolving complaints, perpetuated embezzlement of funds by public officials, and prevented money from reaching intended beneficiaries.  At present, there does not seem to be a strategy in place to avert these same problems in the cash transfer program.

Does the current implementation strategy of large scale “piloting” in 51 districts in 2013, and scaling up by 2014, help address the challenges? The answer, most clearly, is no.  Firstly, while the Government is technically “piloting” the cash transfer, the pilot is set to last only a few months, with no systematic and rigorous evaluation, and will likely be carried out in districts that have relatively high UID coverage and bank account penetration.  Consequently, the results of the pilot may not be that informative and, even if they are, will not be representative of how the program will work across India.  A better approach to piloting would be to conduct a proof of concept of the technical aspects of the transfer, followed by a larger pilot of the program in a representative sample of households with a concurrent evaluation.  (Such a strategy was suggested by Karthik Muralidharan, economics professor at Univeristy of California-San Diego, and others to the Government of Bihar in December 2011).

Second, rushing into a massive cash transfer program may complicate the Government’s ability to rectify problems on the fly, both politically and administratively.  The famous Brazilian cash transfer program, Bolsa Família, is often touted as the model for the cash transfer in India.  Lest history fall by the wayside, Bolsa Família grew out of a combination of other transfer programs that had started at the municipal and state levels and had been operating for several years prior to the launch of Bolsa Família.  These subnational cash transfer programs were then individually scaled up to the national level, and subsequently consolidated into Bolsa Família.  The Indian cash transfer program parallels the consolidation aspect of Brazil’s approach.  Nonetheless, the fact that cash transfers in Brazil started from the bottom and diffused upward and outward suggests that kinks in program administration could be smoothed out at smaller scales and the resultant successes could then be scaled up.  Of course, the evolution of Brazil’s cash transfer program is not the only path for implementation, but India’s top-down, rushed approach provides little space for weaknesses to be identified and rectified at the local level so that the most effective modalities of the program can be scaled nationally.

The Government’s ambitions of establishing a cash transfer system at the proposed size and scope should not be taken lightly.  As the saying goes, however, the devil is in the details.  To this end, the Government has not adequately considered the unintended welfare consequences of switching to cash and the complexities of implementing such a system on the impossibly rushed timeline and with the administrative capability that currently exists.  The point is not that migrating to a cash transfer system is necessarily a bad idea.  Rather, doing so in a measured way, with structured pilot testing that produces feedback that can inform a gradual expansion, could increase the likelihood that the cash transfer improves the functioning of the welfare system and thus works in favor of poor households across India.  The Government’s approach thus far indicates that India may not be able to capture the benefits that an effective cash transfer system has to offer.

[Cover Image Attribution: By L. Shyamal (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons]

]]> http://www.criticaltwenties.in/economicsocialpolicy/kitna-paisa-kiske-haath-how-much-money-in-whose-hands/feed 0 http://www.criticaltwenties.in/mediapopularculture/special-chabbis-2013 http://www.criticaltwenties.in/mediapopularculture/special-chabbis-2013#comments Mon, 11 Feb 2013 12:13:39 +0000 Alok http://www.criticaltwenties.in/?p=5340 In our daily lives, save for an infinitesimally small minority, we do mundane jobs that fill the bank account and the hours of the day. Our lives are lived out weekend to weekend until it is time to put up one’s feet and contemplate retirement. We reserve derring do, bravery, and nerve-shredding actions to the controlled realm of sports or the safety of fiction. The capacity to imagine alternate selves, to live lives we don’t, is perhaps a uniquely human trait. All fiction, be it literature, drama or cinema is escapist by definition. We are all seeking to escape from different things – our circumstances, our families, our jobs, our environment and fiction tells us there is an alternate (better?) world out there.

Special Chabbis takes this very human yearning and fleshes it out into easily Bollywood’s best “heist” film of all time. Very loosely based on real life incidents, it’s a story of four rather ordinary people who, using their wits and guts, outsmart the real thieves and thugs of our age – crooked netas and businessmen – posing as CBI cops or taxmen. The premise is as simple as it is brilliant; target someone who will never file a complaint and who’ll unhappily write it off as a business loss rather than explain the source of the income. It’s a modern day Robin Hood tale that appeals, at some level, to our sense of justice.

Where heist films in the past have contrived to add glamour and good looks (think Ocean’s 12 & 13, Bunty aur Babli, and ugh, the Dhoom movies) to a rather thin plot, Special Chabbis adds character and emotion to a rich and layered plot that gets its vice-like hold on you and doesn’t let go for two-and-a-half hours straight. Ajay (Akshay Kumar), Sharma (Anupam Kher), Iqbal (Kishore Kadam) and Joginder (Rajesh Sharma) are not supposed to be people you’ll necessarily remember for the rest of your life. In their “regular” lives they’re battling concerns that anyone can identify with – a seemingly doomed love affair, a daughter’s wedding, a nagging and demanding wife, or a large family to take care of.

Yet, once every two months or so, they get together, put on their costumes, forge documents, plot meticulously, and pull off a stunning caper against someone rich with lots to hide. Whatever else they may be, for those few days, they strut in immaculately pressed clothes, speak in clipped accents (dipping into the vernacular only when strictly required) and fearlessly slap people of any rank. Though set in pre-liberalization India, it’s the ultimate wish-fulfillment of post-2G India – break the corporate-government nexus with half a dozen well timed whacks on the faces of the smug bastards. Oh and also steal all their ill gotten gains in the process. (It’s obviously fantasy because in the era of round-tripping, tax havens and corporate structuring, no one actually keeps large bundles of cash in easy reach anymore. As certain tax officers found out recently.)

The “Special Chabbis” of the title comes from the twenty-six bright (and not-so-bright), (mostly) young men and women who sign up with the Gang of Four, believing them to be CBI officers, to help them with their biggest and last heist – robbing the biggest jewellery store in town (based on the real-life Tribhovandas Bhimji Zaveri Jewellers heist in Bombay). To be part of the Special Chabbis is a once-in-a-birth chance to be part of the CBI elite by going through an interview, a written test and a “practical” (which is, needless to say, the actual heist). When an ad says that the CBI is recruiting and is looking for someone – who just might be you – for action, adventure and adrenaline, wouldn’t you jump at the chance, brush up your CV, clean up your looks, and practice your best tough-guy/girl-naivete thinking it makes you look formidable?

Never mind that the actual CBI has actually laid out a trap for you.

(Obviously there’s a stunning twist ending which I’m not going to reveal here!)

*****

Neeraj Pandey, with Special Chabbis, joins the happily growing list of Indian directors who’re hitting that sweet spot between utterly crass commercial and the snooty inaccessible art-film circuit. A group of directors which includes Zoya Akhtar, Dibakar Bannerjee, Tigmanshu Dhulia, Anurag Kashyap, Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra, Gauri Shinde among others who thrive in the multiplex viewer market with tight scripts, well cast and directed films that don’t equate entertainment with dumbing down of content. May their tribe (and output) increase.

While Neeraj Pandey’s work so far consists of only two movies, “A Wednesday” and “Special Chabbis”, located as they are in two very different genres, they address the same theme; the common man fights back against a seemingly insurmountable enemy in his own little way, using his wits and superior intelligence, sometimes against the forces of the law which are supposed to do this in the first place. It is fantasy of course, asking us to imagine that somehow your everyday guy will be able to access cutting edge technology to beat the government or have the necessary intelligence gathering skills to plan an elaborate fake raid. Yet, it’s a fantasy firmly rooted in a reality – present day Bombay in the case of A Wednesday and 1980s India in Special Chabbis – that makes us suspend our disbelief enough to believe in it. (Neeraj Pandey’s 1980s India is also a hipster’s delight – sweater vests, typewriters, vintage Marutis and Lambrettas, all awash in an Instagram-esque sepia. )

*****

On the face of it Akshay Kumar seems obviously miscast among a lot of fine character actors. Yet one doesn’t actually mind since he seems to be back doing what is obviously his forte – comedy. Akshay Kumar is at his comedic best not when he’s trying to be funny (all his disastrously unfunny “funny movies”) but when he plays it straight allowing the situation and the circumstances to bring the laughs (Hera Pheri and his cameo in the otherwise idiotic Om Shanti Om). Here, there’s no slapstick, no weird bodily quirks, no linguistic deformity or any other contrived attempt at humour – he allows his body language, the situation and the dialogue to bring the humour out.

Anupam Kher, while hilariously miscast as the no-nonsense top cop in “A Wednesday”, returns to playing a somewhat hassled, on-the-verge-of-retirement-middle aged man caring for his ever-growing brood – in other words pretty much everything good that he has done in the last 15 years or so (Khosla ka Ghosla, Bend it Like Beckham, Speedy Singhs) Yet, give him the lines, give him his crew and his cream coloured bush-shirt and corduroy pants, and he suddenly becomes a no-nonsense government official of unimpeachable integrity and titanium strength testicular fortitude. (On a side note, it would be beyond brilliant if in a weird comic-type crossover, Sharma of Special Chabbis was actually Khosla of Khosla ka Ghosla!)

Every good heist film has a dogged representative of the law who, despite his many limitations (lack of imagination, foresight and charm) proves a formidable foe through sheer persistence and doggedness in never giving up the chase till the end. Manoj Bajpayee’s Waseem Khan is a CBI officer and all about what actual police work really is – doing the dull, obvious things until you get a breakthrough, and in the Indian context, the threat of torture to obtain information. He is, in some ways, the polar opposite of Tom Hanks’ Carl Hanratty in Catch Me if You Can - menacing, self-assured, and charismatic and yet, at the end of the day, a proper family man who gives his kid a joy-ride to the school bus and worries about paying his bills. He could easily be Sardar Khan’s less-lecherous long-lost brother, just on the right side of the law this time.

As with the leads, Pandey gets most of the casting of the supporting roles spot on – witness Tiku Talsania’s Porky Pig act as the  owner of the targeted jewelry store in Bombay. Jimmy Shergill, who always seems to have the burden of the world upon his shoulders anytime he’s required to carry a film, fits neatly into his small-ish role that though has him appearing throughout, though it gives him rather little to do on screen most of the time.

Like with “A Wednesday”, Neeraj Pandey has little space for women in Special Chabbis. In both films, they’re usually in the periphery or background – a side track to the main story about the tussle of wills between clever/devious men. Maybe it’s a serious flaw in his directorial ability and vision or perhaps he hasn’t yet found the right script with strong female characters. Either way, one hopes Special Chabbis turns out to be a runaway hit that allows him to do something slightly different just as well, the next time around.

Coda:

1. Actual raids are far depressing and less entertaining, as I’ve written before.

2. The real-life Tribhovandas Bhimji Zaveri Jewellers heist has never been solved.

]]> http://www.criticaltwenties.in/mediapopularculture/special-chabbis-2013/feed 0 http://www.criticaltwenties.in/sciencetechnology/knowingly-poisoning-its-own-people http://www.criticaltwenties.in/sciencetechnology/knowingly-poisoning-its-own-people#comments Thu, 07 Feb 2013 22:38:00 +0000 Akshat http://www.criticaltwenties.in/?p=5333

India’s response to the ill-effects of a toxic pesticide has been slow and inadequate

Endosulfan, a pesticide, has been poisoning villagers in India over the past two decades. Its use has caused physical and mental ailments among thousands of children and adults and deaths of many hundreds. In 2011 India agreed to ban endosulfan, and, more recently, it offered compensation to its victims. But now it is falling short to keep both those promises.

The pesticide, once commonly used, damages the central nervous system and causes hormonal changes in mothers and babies. It leads to many birth defects including cerebral palsy, a condition that causes physical disability. Worse still, it lingers in the environment without degradation, leading to its accumulation in the food chain and causing lasting ill-effects.

Commitment to ban?

In 2011 at the Stockholm Convention 128 countries, including India, added endosulfan to the list of pollutants that they agree to phase out of use. Following India’s commitment at Stockholm and after years of effort by the Democratic Youth Federation of India, a non-governmental organization, in May 2011 the Supreme Court banned the use of endosulfan in the country but allowed its exports to exhaust remaining stocks. At present India has 2000 tonnes of the pesticide and raw materials enough to make a further 4000 tonnes of it. As international demand for the pesticide has plummeted, the government has been forced to dispose this stash.

In July, because the Indian government was not ready to foot a $40 million bill for the disposal of endosulfan’s raw materials, it asked the Supreme Court to lift the ban on making the pesticide. In November the Supreme Court’s expert committee requested giving in to this demand. Citing that the treaty that Indian signed allows it up to six years to phase out endosulfan, so it could allow endosulfan’s manufacture and use without breaking its commitment. This recommendation was made even though the committee accepts that endosulfan is harmful to human health.

Sadly, endosulfan remains popular among farmers too. Manufacturing of the pesticide, if allowed, will be greeted with strong demand. Before the ban, India was the largest producer and consumer of endosulfan. It is cheap, easily available and curtails a variety of pests. For those unaware of its environmental consequences, there is little reason to not use it.

Studies show ill-effects of endosulfan use across the country. Kerala is the worst affected state. A 2012 state report linked the pesticide to 4000 afflicted and 700 deaths, many of whom suffered the fate because of aerial spraying over nearby cashew plantations. In some villages 50% homes have a child or an adult with severe disabilities.

In May the Kerela government, based on the recommendations of the National Human Rights Commission, agreed to pay compensation to the victims of endosulfan in Kerela. The amount varied from Rupees 300,000 ($5,500) to 500,000 ($9,500) depending on the victim’s suffering. But despite protests in September and December, the government has only paid 101 out of the 2453 victim families.

The request to allow manufacturing of endosulfan exposes the government’s inability to dispose the raw materials. If undisposed, the chemicals lie in poorly maintained warehouses. A task force setup to inspect one such warehouse in Periya, Kerala, after locals complained of foul smell, found endosulfan leaking from rusted steel drums. The warehouse also lacked storekeepers, fire safety equipment and first-aid kits, posing a serious threat to nearby villages and water bodies.

Endosulfan rehabilitation project, setup by Kerala last year to help the afflicted, started an operation to deal with such cases. Their first task was to contain the leaking drums. They are now hoping to get help from the government for disposal and detoxification, said Mohammed Asheel, the project officer.

Far too little, far too late

Pratibha Patil, former President of India, promised to double public spending on health care to 2.5% of the GDP by 2017. Among its first steps is a $5 billion free drugs plan, the implementation of which began in October. Surely then the Indian government can, apart from preserving the ban, also afford to stop poisoning its own people for a mere $40 million and also compensate those already poisoned.

First posted on The Allotrope. Image from here.