Karna is born

“O Prophet! strive hard against the unbelievers and the Hypocrites, and be firm against them. Their abode is Hell,- an evil refuge indeed.”

                                                                                                                                                                                                               –           Quran 9:73

Thus goes a quotation employed by Arun Shourie to provoke a genre of controversy, that he (like many others) has tactfully turned into a subject matter of bestsellers.

Whatever one might have to say about that, Wikipedia estimates that the holy’ Bible and the ‘holy’ Quran have sold (or distributed) more copies than the publishing industry has otherwise been able to manage. Even today, the industry (besieged by more secular threats such as the Internet) is yet to overcome its success with the Bible and the Quran. It finds itself struggling with an abundance of writers who feel the queer need to impart sense, or convince, rather than preach.

But thanks to a majority of us yet being unable to read, write or comprehend these texts, the historical abundance of religious teaching and literature, has turned out to be a relatively an innocent manifestation. The archaic languages in which they are expressed further aid in our misunderstanding of what they contain and provide many of us a passable excuse to ignore what are evidently – bestsellers. Of course, we place them in high regard on our bookshelves, and I suggest we continue to do so, as it is intellectually fashionable.

As someone who conveniently calls himself a ‘Hindu’, I hold ancient Indian texts with the same high regard, and value my time delving into the absurdity of their translation, or comprehension. And as a so-called ‘English speaking, urban middle class Indian’ who will not spend his days worrying about anything that isn’t expressed in English and on paper, that is easily available or can be printed out, understood, underlined and made into paper planes, I don’t typically permit religion to distract from more pressing and immediate preoccupations. In the matter of course, some of us, like my good friend Subramanian has over here, do manage to fly into gardens of roses ostensibly planted by religion, and smell the flowers, letting their religious hues invigorate the religious senses, shutting out the science of the olfactory nerve, and perception of color, abandoning in a flight of romance, the absurdity of roses having anything to do with religion.

That is not to lightly dismiss Subramanian’s erudite illustrations, because the genesis of this piece lies not in what he says, but what they represent. They represent, what I think, is the most pressing dilemma facing religion today. It lies in our inability to rationalize where religion begins and ends. In each of Subramanian’s examples, I would beg to differ on where religion starts and stops, and where music, philosophy and grammar do.

While it may be an academic exercise to demarcate our secular and religious intellectual / academic traditions, and reevaluate such matters as works of art, cultural practices, ‘good and evil’ and the role of the church and state, we often forget that, outside of our intellectually fashionable bookshelves, religion may yet be a formidable force. We pay little attention to its material manifestations. For instance, its figure-heads, who control vast amounts of wealth, endowments, charities and educational institutions, and carry great influence. We pay little attention to the propriety of religion being dished out to children at an age when obeisance is most easily obtained and inculcated. We know little about what our politics means to those who occupy their minds with more religion than we do.

Having developed new ideas, and framed new principles in spheres that we previously left to the holy book and silent prayer, we may be conceding less today to religion than we did before. By scrutinizing and demarcating the role of religion in our lives – in politics, in institutions, culture and society, some of us may be finding it increasingly of little relevance. But, today more than ever before, political and cultural battles may at their very root, be a result of conflicting ideas of what religion does and does not represent,what it must and must not mean, most importantly, what it means in the first place.

Consider the words of this concerned father of a girl (who was a victim of an instance of ‘honour killing’ soon after) warning her against marrying out of caste -

“I would say that what you have done or going to do, is the opposite of Sanatan Dharma… The Indian Constitution says that adults can have their own marital bond but our Constitution is just 60 years. In contrast, our religion, no one knows how old our religion is”

Aghast at the prevalence of ‘honour killings’ on the basis of an ancient religion, (and maybe less aghast at the understandable disdain towards the more recent Constitution) the establishment in Delhi intends to pass laws to wipe the practice out, presumably having overcome its fear of alienating voters in the battle that may ensue with khap panchayats, the cultural / religious muttawwahs of our rural hinterland.

To say that religion is boring or useless is one thing, to say that it is irrelevant is another. Any political battle that religion will wage, will concern us all. And worse, like international terrorism, separatism, certain territorial conflicts and extremism, which are made out to belong to that category, we may struggle to ascertain whether it is religion that has anything to do with it. Like Richard Dawkins here, and in the Mahabharata, maybe – the genesis of Kunti’s offspring!

Like the contradictions inherent in Kunti’s attribution of Karna to Surya, it may be a little late in the day to explore modern secularism’s inherent contradictions, but we have ignored religion for too long, and risk repeating Kunti’s mistake of punishing a contradiction with abandonment! As Subramanian says, we may consider ourselves successful if we were to interest you in a discussion on religion and culture. If it would do the trick, a few sleepless nights too!

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Land acquisition: the movie

If there’s a current social issue that’s crying out for a movie of its own, it’s surely the compulsory acquisition of land for companies.  Nandigram.  Singur.  Mamata Banerjee.  The tension!  The drama!  Although the Indian experience is sui generis in many respects, for a little inspiration screenwriters should watch “The Castle” – a 1997 Australian film in which a salt-of-the-earth family challenges the acquisition of their family home by a private consortium for the extension of an airport.

Some aspects of the film will resonate here, such as the paltry compensation offered and the use of goondas to pressure the family to shut up, take the money, and move out.  Other aspects will need a lot of tweaking: for example, there are no violent agitations in ‘The Castle’, only remarkably expeditious hearings in various courts.  And of course the Aussie humour will need translating (‘Compulsorily acquired?  You know what this means don’t you: they’re acquiring it compulsorily!’).  The real challenge will be to find the Indian Eric Bana, who in his feature-film debut plays a sweet-hearted amateur kickboxing fanatic.  Suggestions are welcome.

Now, to keep things simple and punchy the film should probably end in late 2008 when Tata was booted out of Singur.  That’s because, at least from a narrative point of view, nothing much of note has happened since.  Though agitations against land acquisition continue, their intensity and frequency appear to have dimmed (or at least are less frequently reported).  One reason why is that land acquisition for companies in West Bengal is, for now at least, politically impossible.  Another reason may be the nation-wide ban on land acquisition for SEZs imposed in January 2007, which still stands (at least on paper).

The Bills introduced at the end of the 2007 to amend the Land Acquisition Act and to create minimum legal entitlements to rehabilitation and resettlement benefits have lapsed.  They are unlikely to be re-introduced, at least in their current form: Mamata Banerjee has reportedly refused to countenance the acquisition of land for companies in any circumstances.  The proposed amendment to the Land Acquisition Act would limit governments’ role to acquiring 30% of the land required for a company’s project if, and only if, the company had already acquired at least 70% of the land.

The merits or otherwise of the 70:30 rule is a difficult question which will be the subject of future posts.  More generally, future posts will try to bring to the forefront the competing moral and economic arguments on the propriety and efficiency of land acquisition for companies.

What seems all but certain, however, is that the phenomenon is here to stay, given the immense pressure on land, the prevailing model of development, and – needless to say – the money at stake.  Give it a few years, and there’ll be plenty of material for Land Acquisition: the sequel.

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Deconstructing homeopathy

A guest post by Akshat Rathi, Graduate Student, Chemistry Research Laboratory, Department of Chemistry, University of Oxford

In January this year, sceptics from many cities in the UK, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the US staged a stunt where 300 people took large overdoses of homeopathic remedies. Their aim was to demonstrate that homeopathic remedies are nothing but sugar pills and as expected, no volunteer was killed or injured. As 62% of all Indians believe in homeopathy and with that number growing, it is high time that the country begins to understand the science behind homeopathy and the dangers of blindly believing in its claims.

Let’s consider how a homeopathic remedy to treat common cold is made. Homeopaths follow the ‘like cures like’ principle, according to which one must find something that causes the symptoms of common cold like running nose and watery eyes. It is known that onion juice can. So a drop of onion juice is taken and diluted 100 times by adding 100 drops of water. It is then shaken. But that dilution is not enough because homeopaths believe in another principle: ‘the higher the dilution, the higher the potency’, thus one drop of that solution is taken and another 100 drops of water are added to it, followed by more shaking. This is repeated at least 30 times to give the final remedy. At this level of dilution, the chance of finding Barack Obama sitting in your living room is higher than the chance of finding a single molecule of onion juice in that homeopathic remedy. (See BBC documentary to know more)

There have been serious concerns about the validity of homeopathic principles in the mainstream medical community. They lack any scientific evidence and are in complete contrast to the body of knowledge that is traditional medicine. Such highly diluted solutions, which don’t contain even a single molecule of the active ingredient, also make it possible for homeopaths to claim that their remedies have no side effects. Also according to the ‘like cures like’ principle, as stated before, the same homeopathic remedy used to treat stress can simply be used to treat a brain tumour. After all, both conditions cause a headache and the homeopathic remedy for both would simply consist of a highly diluted solution of something that causes a headache.

Many patients who receive homeopathic treatment say that it works for them and it would be wrong to claim that they are lying. Positive effects of homeopathy are merely caused by something called the ‘placebo effect’. A placebo is a medication with no active ingredients in it. The best examples of the placebo effect are observed when two dummy treatments are compared with each other. If one sham treatment works better than the other then it must be simply because people are expecting it to work. For example, a study showed that four sugar pills a day are better at reducing pain than two but more invasive treatment, like a salt-water injection, is even better. In another study patients reported that a red pill was better at treating pain than a white one, even though both were inert.

Homeopathy ‘works’ because of the placebo effect. It doesn’t matter if you are a sceptic, a baby or an animal – if people around you expect the treatment to work, it is more likely to. Sometimes ignorance of important symptoms which need timely attention can give homeopathy credence. This ignorance often makes people wait to see the doctor until their illness is at its worst. At this point a homeopathic remedy is prescribed to the patient. Once the worst is over, the immune system becomes capable of combating the disease and healing begins. But unfortunately, the natural process of healing is often then attributed to homeopathy.

When a homeopathic treatment does not lead to a cure, people tend to blame either their condition or their fate, but still continue to rely blindly on homeopathy. The belief in homeopathy is also perpetuated by India’s unregulated pharmaceutical market which makes it easy to buy medicines across the counter without a physician’s prescription. As a result, people often take the wrong medication and blame the ineffectiveness on mainstream medicine. This tendency generates an undesirable bias towards homeopathy.

One might question that if homoeopathic remedies work (by placebo effect or by self-healing) then surely there is nothing “wrong” in prescribing them? Ethically speaking, it is not wrong to use homeopathic remedies to treat minor illnesses such as common cold or a headache. But it can be exceedingly dangerous, as WHO warned recently, when homeopathy claims to be able to treat serious medical conditions such as cancer, swine flu, AIDS, TB, or malaria.

Furthermore, there can be serious consequences when homeopathy becomes enshrined in mainstream medical policy. In Punjab, for instance a state-wide program is being implemented that uses homeopathic treatment to ‘cure’ pregnant mothers of the need for a C-section during child birth. Incidences like these makes one wonder how many mothers will die and if they do, whether the homeopaths will ever be held to account.

The scientific community has, for decades, systematically refuted every claim that homeopathy makes and yet millions of people in India still believe in it. Government funds it, ministers support it, more colleges are built and more homeopaths walk amongst us year on year. Some say this broad public support for homeopathy remains because the scientific community is unable to communicate this to the people or it comes from a general disdain for “western” medicine.

Akshat Rathi is a researcher in pharmaceutical chemistry at the University of Oxford and he blogs at The Allotrope

Further Information

BBC Horizon documentary

Kienle, G. S. et al, Journal of Clinical Epidemiology, 1997, 50, 1311

Homeopathic treatment for Ovarian Cysts

Prasad, R. The Lancet, 2007, 370, 1679

Posted in Science & Technology | 2 Comments

The James Laine Controversy – Could the Supreme Court Have Done Better?

When Prof. James W. Laine, a Professor of Religious Studies at Macalester College in the U.S.A., penned ‘Shivaji – Hindu King in Islamic India’, little would he have known that it would lead to assaults on those who had assisted him, acts of vandalism against research institutes, a criminal complaint against him, and trigger a major political issue in one of India’s largest States. But all this it did, and even two favourable decisions of the Supreme Court in the last three years, have done hardly enough to put his book on the shelves where it should rightly belong.

The most recent development in the saga which began in 2003 is the decision of the Supreme Court in State of Maharashtra v. Sangharaj Damodar Rupawate, delivered on 9th July, 2010. Soon after the publication of the book, which allegedly contains scurrilous and defamatory remarks against Shivaji, there were several acts of violence in Maharashtra, culminating in a criminal complaint being filed against Prof Laine and others associated with the book, for offences under sections 153, 153-A and 34 of the Indian Penal Code, 1860 [“IPC”]. The challenge to this complaint went right up to the Supreme Court, where it was finally disposed off in Manzar Sayeed Khan v. State of Maharashtra. Section 153 and section 153-A, taken together, provide that provoking rioting, or promoting enmity between different classes, communities or castes, are offences under the IPC. The Supreme Court rightly held that both these provisions have a necessary requirement of mens rea, which was not established on the facts of the case. On this ground, the proceedings in both the cases were quashed. In response to this decision, the State of Maharashtra issued a declaration under section 95 of the Code of Criminal Procedure [“CrPC”], forfeiting all copies of the book to the Government. This was successfully challenged before the Bombay High Court, the appeal against which fell for the Apex Court’s consideration in Sangharaj Damodar Rupawate.

Before the Supreme Court, the case of the respondents was that there was nothing to show that the book had resulted in disturbance between groups, and that no offence under section 153-A was made out. The appellant (State of Maharashtra) contended that the State Government has discretionary powers under section 95, and the threshold is only that of its subjective satisfaction. It relied on the supposed primacy of public interest over private rights, arguing that any material creating a rift between groups or communities cannot be allowed, even if the content thereof is true.

To examine the validity of these contentions, let us begin by examining section 95, the text of which reads (in its relevant part)-

(1) Where-

(a) Any newspaper, or book, or

(b) Any document,

Whenever printed appears to the State Government to contain any, matter the publication of which is punishable under … section 153 A or section 153B …, the State Government may, by notification, stating the grounds of its opinion, declare every copy of the issue of the news paper containing such matter, and every copy of such book or other document to be forfeited to Government… [emphasis supplied]

Thus, section 95 lays down two requirements for a declaration of forfeiture- (a) the State Government must form an opinion that the publication contains matter which is punishable under section 153-A; and (b) it must state the grounds of its opinion. The Supreme Court, in an appropriate exercise of judicial restraint, decided the case on the narrow basis that the declaration did not disclose the grounds of its opinion. The Court observed that the declaration only stated the opinion of the Government that section 153-A was being violated by the book, without explaining the grounds on which it formed this opinion. Admittedly, this is a permissible basis on which to invalidate the declaration of forfeiture. However, it leaves the option open to the State Government to issue a fresh declaration of forfeiture, stating its grounds in full. Ordinarily, there is nothing wrong with this outcome. However, for reasons which I now proceed to, this outcome is far  from satisfactory in the context under consideration here.

In arriving at its decision, the Court drew a distinction between a requirement that the book should be proved to be in violation of section 153-A, and a requirement that the State Government should form an opinion that it violates section 153-A. This distinction is admittedly sound in law, and is backed by sufficient legal precedent. However, this distinction is entirely inapplicable when dealing with a situation where the book has been judicially held to be not in violation of section 153-A. Here, the declaration of forfeiture was preceded by a decision of the Supreme Court in Manzar Sayeed Khan that the book did not violate section 153-A. Against this backdrop, an interpretation of the provision allowing the State government to form an opinion contrary to a decision of the Supreme Court is highly dubious. Once a book has been held by the Supreme Court to not violate section 153-A, is it open for the State Government to form the opinion that the same book violates section 153-A? Such a conclusion would have been possible had the requirement of section 153-A been the ‘possibility’ of disharmony between groups. In such a scenario, the State Government may form an opinion contrary to a decision of the Apex Court, based on development subsequent to the decision of the Supreme Court. However, under section 153-A as it now stands, mens rea is an essential requirement under section 153-A. A finding by the Supreme Court that this mens rea is absent at the time of publication of the book, cannot be revisited by the State Government based on subsequent developments. Further, section 96 of the CrPC also supports this interpretation. Under this provision, a person may challenge the declaration under section 95 on the basis that the book ‘did not contain any such matter as is referred to in sub-section (1) of section 95’. It is important to note that the subject of the challenge is not the opinion of the State Government, but matter contained in the forfeited material. Thus, even if the State Government’s opinion is bona fide, if the matter is not punishable under section 153-A, the declaration will be set aside under section 96.

If this position is accepted, even if the grounds of the opinion are set out in detail in a subsequent section 95 declaration, it will still have to be set aside on the basis that mater was not punishable under section 153-A, given the decision of the Supreme Court in Manzar Sayeed Khan. The decision in Sangharaj Rupawate, with its emphasis on the absence of grounds for the opinion, and the distinction between the offence under section 153-A and the opinion under section 95, may be interpreted as leaving the option open for the State Government to issue a fresh declaration under section 95, with detailed grounds, which would be considered valid. Especially given the belligerent attitude adopted by the Maharashtra State Government, with the Chief Minister openly declaring its intention to pass a law to bypass the Supreme Court decision (raising an interesting legal question of whether such a law intended to bypass the decision would be liable to be struck down as colourable legislation), makes such a step far from unlikely. It is a different matter that the book has been withdrawn by the publishers, and is not in print any longer. However, for the sake of clarity on the law, and to deliver a much-needed blow to regional chauvinism, it may have been better if the Supreme Court in Sangharaj Rupawate had gone a step further and held that no section 95 declaration in respect of the James Laine would be legally permissible.

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The Supreme Court on the Removal of Governors

An issue of great Constitutional significance, and which has been discussed and debated in public fora for several years, was finally discussed by a Constitutional Bench of the Supreme Court in May this year. In BP Singhal v. Union of India, the Supreme Court was called on to consider the removal of Governors, and the restrictions, if any, which may be imposed on the process of removal by the President. This decision has been widely reported as having placed checks on the arbitrary removal of Governors. Unfortunately, while the Court did lay to rest some misconceptions that had been harboured about the process and grounds of removal, on a closer examination, the checks on arbitrariness which the Court has laid down cannot be taken to more than an illusory and symbolic assurance.

Article 156 of the Indian Constitution reads-

(1) The Governor shall hold office during the pleasure of the President.

(2) The Governor may, by writing under his hand addressed to the President, resign his office.

(3) Subject to the foregoing provisions of this article, a Governor shall hold office for a term of five years from the date on which he enters upon his office:

Provided that a Governor shall, notwithstanding the expiration of his term, continue to hold office until his successor enters upon his office. [emphasis supplied]

The primary contention of the petitioner was that clause (1) of Article 156 should be read down in light of the tenure of five years provided in clause (3). Further, in a democratic system of governance, it was contended that the ‘pleasure principle’ cannot be as unfettered as it was in feudal England (where it originated), but must necessarily be bound in by some guidelines, and be subject to judicial review. The respondent refuted these contentions on the text of the provision, which explicitly subjects the tenure (in clause (3)) to the pleasure of the President (in clause (1)). Further, since the President’s decision is based on the ‘aid and advice’ of the Council of Ministers, which is free of judicial review under Article 74(2), there was no possibility of subjecting the removal of a Governor to judicial review.

The Court made an encouraging start, discussing the feudal origins of the ‘doctrine of pleasure’, observing that “[t]here is a distinction between the doctrine of pleasure as it existed in a feudal set-up and the doctrine of pleasure in a democracy governed by rule of law”. However, it is important to note that in provisions like Article 311(2), the drafters have included specific limitations on the doctrine of pleasure, which are absent in Article 156. The Court noted this difference, concluding however, that this did not preclude the existence of even the most limited restrictions on the exercise of the power of removal under Article 156. While the requirement of a fair hearing, or an inquiry (as contained in Article 311(2)) could not be read into Article 156, the basic requirement that the power not be exercised whimsically or capriciously must nevertheless be considered an essential part of the power of removing Governors. In the words of the Court,

Where rule of law prevails, there is nothing like unfettered discretion or unaccountable action. The degree of need for reason may vary. The degree of scrutiny during judicial review may vary. But the need for reason exists. As a result when the Constitution of India provides that some offices will be held during the pleasure of the President, without any express limitations or restrictions, it should however necessarily be read as being subject to the ‘fundamentals of constitutionalism’.

The Court also considered the recommendation of the Sarkaria Commission and the Consultation Paper on ‘Institution of Governor under the Constitution’ published by the National Commission to Review the Working of the Constitution, both of which have made a strong case for reading in detailed guidelines into Article 156. However, while noting these recommendations, the Court, in a refreshing act of judicial economy, observed

These recommendations howsoever logical, or deserving consideration and acceptance, remain recommendations. They cannot override the express provisions of the Constitution as they stand. Nor can they assist in interpreting Article 156. The very fact that such recommendations are made, shows that the position under the existing Constitutional provisions is otherwise. They are suggestions to be considered by those who can amend the Constitution. They do not assist in interpreting the existing provisions of the Constitution.

Next, the Court went on to elaborate what seems to be the most important part of its reasoning. In oral arguments, even the respondent (Union of India) had pressed its contention that the discretion of the President in the removal of a Governor is completely unfettered. However, one of the permissible grounds for removal suggested was the Governor not ‘being in sync’ with the policies if the Central Government, and that a Governor could be removed if and when the Central Government ‘lost confidence’ in her/him. However, the Court noted that the political scenario has undergone a sea change over the last several years, and different parties are often in power at the Centre and the State. Allowing ‘confidence’ to be a ground for removal would thus allow the politicisation of the post of a Governor, which was specifically intended to be an apolitical Constitutional post. The Court stated, in no uncertain terms, that disparity in policies of loss of confidence were not sufficient grounds for removal. While this seems a satisfactory conclusion, what is unclear from the decision is whether this view was prompted by the necessity of fetters on the pleasure of the President, or by the change in India’s political scenario. The decision suggests that it is the latter of the two considerations that influenced the Court. While that may be natural, modelling Constitutional interpretation on political considerations seems suspect.

That brings me to the last part of the decision, regarding the permissibility of judicial review of the removal of a Governor. The Court observed that the Constituent Assembly Debates suggested that the power of removal was never intended to be unfettered. Further, it noted that while the President could not be called on to provide reasons for removal to the Governor, this does not preclude judicial review. The Court observed “Therefore, while we do not accept the contention that an order under Article 156 is not justiciable, we accept the contention that no reason need be assigned and no cause need be shown and no notice need be issued to the Governor before removing a Governor”. An analogy was drawn to the power of Presidential pardon, which also allowed for a limited degree of judicial review. The Court elaborated this limited extent of review in the following words,

In the event of challenge of withdrawal of the pleasure, the court will necessarily assume that it is for compelling reasons. Consequently, where the aggrieved person is not able to establish a prima facie instance of arbitrariness or malafides, in his removal, the court will refuse to interfere. However, where a prima facie case of arbitrariness or malafides is made out, the Court can require the Union Government to produce records/materials to satisfy itself that the withdrawal of pleasure was for good and compelling reasons. What will constitute good and compelling reasons would depend upon the facts of the case. Having regard to the nature of functions of the Governor in maintaining centre-state relations, and the flexibility available to the Government in such matters, it is needless to say that there will be no interference unless a very strong case is made out. The position, therefore, is that the decision is open to judicial review but in a very limited extent.

While this serves as a good starting point, unfortunately the Court fails to go any further in elaborating the precise import of the broad terms employed in the above extract. Apart from the prohibition on using ‘lack of confidence’ as a ground for removal, the Court does not provide any idea of what the legitimate grounds may be, contenting itself with the observation that “What would be compelling reasons would depend upon the facts and circumstances of each case”. Thus, while the decision serves the important function of providing that there must be some grounds on which the removal must be based, it is steadfastly quiet on what these grounds are. Further, since there is no requirement of disclosing the grounds for removal to the Governor, establishing the prima facie case required by the Court is also well-nigh impossible, except in rare cases.

Now, it is true that the degree to which the Court can review the removal of a Governor is necessarily circumscribed by the text of the Constitution, and the powers provided therein. Allowing for any more powers of review, or stricter guidelines on the removal of a Governor, would have done violence to the provisions of the Constitution. Within the confines of the Constitution as it exists, the Court has done the best it could for limiting arbitrary removal. Absent a Constitutional amendment, we are still a long way away from imposing a realistic limitations on the removal of Governors. However, Constitutional jurisprudence abounds with examples where symbolic dicta have served an important function is influencing the development of the law (Marbury v. Madison being an ideal example of the value of symbolism). Given the immense symbolic value of BP Singhal, it is nevertheless an important symbolic step towards accountability of the Centre in removing Governors.

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Home Groan – The EPL’s New Rules

The Premier League’s ruling on Home Grown Players spells disaster for English football

Last May, when the domestic football season ended all across Europe, I didn’t feel the kind of emptiness I normally associate with summer. There was a world cup to look forward to, and on either side of it, a transfer window which I was convinced would be the busiest one in a long time. Almost every big club quite visibly needed reinforcements, and the only one that didn’t, had it made it very clear that it would give the tabloids enough rubbish to print as they went on and on about bringing Catalan DNA back from North London.

Now, the world cup was underwhelming, to say the least. True, high-profile international matches tend to be tactical, cagey affairs, but these ones were particularly dreary. Such a high proportion of 1-0 victories (more often than not arising out of a goalkeeping blunder) can’t be healthy for the game. Anyway, enough has been written about the despicably round Jabulani, the ugly but indispensible holding midfielders, and the cosmic conspiracy about how the absence of goal-line technology always goes against one’s favourite team – so let’s not go down that road again. My biggest gripe this summer has been the infuriating dullness of the inter-club transfer market, especially that in England.

It’s definitely not the money. Six of last year’s top 8 clubs have made no secret of the fact that they have funds at their disposal. (At the time of writing this article, it appears Manchester City will foot Craig Bellamy’s £90,000 a week wage bill even while he spends the season on loan with Cardiff City).It’s definitely not contentment with the current squad. Every manager has gone on record admitting that he’s on the lookout for fresh talent. Yet the tabloids have struggled to churn out the kind of will-he-won’t-he gossip that fuels pub conversations in the driest months of the year. And more often than not, these loose leads all turn out to be transfer non-events because there is a new binding constraint in place this year – the FA’s ruling on home grown players in the Premier League club squad.

Briefly, the ruling states that every club must name a squad of 25 players maximum that has to include at least eight home grown players. A home grown player is defined roughly as one who, irrespective of nationality or age, has been registered with any English or Welsh club for a period of 3 seasons before his 21st birthday. In addition to this squad of 25 players, each club may use as many under-21 players as they wish.

Where does this leave most English clubs? Well, for starters, Manchester City has enough players to name 2 full squads in keeping with the above rules. Which would explain why, for every Balotelli they buy, there’s a Roque Santa Cruz they need to offload. Chelsea aren’t much better, being perilously close to this limit themselves. A handful of clubs planning for the future have clung on to youth academy players who in previous seasons would easily have been loaned out to lesser clubs. Cash-strapped clubs find themselves unable to import inexpensive talent from Europe and South America while being unable to afford English players of comparable quality, whose prices have shot up due to the supply-demand imbalance in this imperfect market.

And what purpose does all of this serve? Ostensibly, the FA wants to see greater English representation, leading to a quality national team, with the end aim of landing a Euro or World Cup by the year 20_ _ (insert any number between 22 and 50). Realistically, what’s going to happen? A handful of clubs with well established youth academies will make a killing over the next 4-5 seasons, selling mediocre “developed” players to other English clubs at inflated prices. The forcible reduction of world-class talent will imply that these home grown players will consistently play against sub-standard opposition (i.e. each other). And English teams will struggle against the traditional European powerhouses who do not suffer from these constraints when looking to acquire foreign talent ineligible to play in England. Oh, and if due to all this, the Spanish, Italian or German leagues overtake the Premier League in terms of global appeal, the FA will lose a LOT of money.

Once every 5 years, these youth academies will unearth an Owen, a Rooney, a Wilshere –  precocious talents capable of breaking into any team in the world irrespective of the number of foreign players in the squad. And agreed, once in 5 years isn’t good enough. But the idea should be to encourage more, better-run, academies across the country, not to make it easier for sub-standard players from existing academies to break into the senior teams. Before the Premier League became all cool and glamorous in the mid 90s, it was dominated by Englishmen. It’s not as if the national team won any silverware then.

A counter-argument I’ve heard quite often relates to the IPL’s restriction on foreign players in the playing XI. In a way, that’s different – with no foreign league even coming close to rivalling it, there’s very little chance of losing the best international talent (and thereby TV, tickets and merchandising revenues) to a competitor. But in a way, it also corroborates my earlier arguments – the lower-in-the-pecking-order Indian cricketers who’ve made it to any XI due to constraints on foreign players are not the ones you’d see in the national team. The ones you see in the national team are ones who’d have walked into their respective IPL teams with ease. And it’s been like this for three years, where our national T20 team has shown no tangible improvement.

Anyway, I don’t think much of the home grown players rule. And when I look back on a dull summer plagued by transfer market inactivity and tired media rumours, I like it even less.

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The Nuclear Liability Bill: What lies Beneath

The recent controversy over The Civil Liability for Nuclear Damage Bill, 2010 (“the Bill”) has been healthy for a number of reasons. It has exemplified the vibrancy of India’s civil society, assuaged fears that Parliament is not merely a forum for acrimonious haranguing of political opponents, given credence to the existence of principled opposition parties especially considering the low electoral value of such a bill and most significantly for having shown that the spirit of enquiry and criticism is alive and well in India. While it is hoped that the controversy is ultimately brought to rest by a responsive government, a responsible opposition and a discerning civil society, before the Parliament ultimately approves the Standing Committee’s recommendations and the final version of the Bill, it is imperative that all aspects of the controversy are brought to light, debated and discussed. A few such aspects and perspectives, which have hitherto escaped the public eye, are discussed below.

First, as per the Atomic Energy Act, 1962 only the government is allowed to operate nuclear establishments. Though a 1987 amendment allowed private participation, it was only to the extent of a 49% stake in a government company which would operate the nuclear plant. Given the predominantly governmental ownership of nuclear plants, it is anomalous that the Bill envisages a two-tier liability regime, with the operator bearing the primary liability (capped at Rs. 500 crores) and the central government, the secondary liability beyond the said amount. If the Atomic Energy Act is not amended, the only effect of such a two-tier liability regime will be to limit the proportionate liability to be borne by the private minority stakeholder in the nuclear establishment, should such an establishment have any private participation in the first place. The passage of this Bill and the depositions made before the Standing Committee on Science and Technology, Environment and Forests, which has been entrusted with recommending suitable amendments to the act, however suggest that the rationale behind a two-tier liability are far from being this modest. Recent news reports have indicated that representatives of the Central Government have already deposed before the Standing Committee, that the liability limits proposed in the Bill are necessary “for the operating company to take insurance cover.” Further, subsequent to the signing of the 123 Nuclear Agreement with the United States of America, it has been long expected that the central government will move a legislation before Parliament to amend the Atomic Energy Act, 1962 in order to facilitate wholly owned private companies to operate in India. The Bill’s silence in this regard is thus a disingenuous effort by the government to divorce the bill from one of the key rationales behind its formulation— incentivising private operators to enter the nuclear industry in India by capping their liability in the event of a nuclear accident.

Incentivising private nuclear operators is not per se reprehensible, despite the government’s lack of candour in this regard. However the key question is the extent to which such incentives are provided and whether this implies a trade-off on other necessary attributes such as safety or victim compensation. It is in this context that the capping of operator liability becomes a significant question. Though capping of operator liability in respect of nuclear accidents is internationally accepted, being incorporated in the Paris Convention, Vienna Convention, the Protocol to the Vienna Convention and the Convention for Supplementary Compensation for Nuclear Damage, the Bill is startling for capping the entire liability in respect of a nuclear incident and also the relatively minuscule liability it foists on private operators. Clause 6(1) of the Bill categorically limits the maximum liability in respect of a nuclear incident at 300 million SDR which is approximately Rs. 2045 crores. To be sure, this is not the maximum liability to be borne by the operator: On the contrary, this is the entire pool of liability pursuant to a nuclear incident, of which a maximum of Rs. 500 crores will be borne by the operator [Clause 6(2)] and the remaining by the central government [Clause 7]. Such a provision is unprecedented in international treaties and comparative foreign legislations. Besides, it is squarely antithetical to the jurisprudence of the Supreme Court which has read in full compensation as a public law remedy under Article 21. The Supreme Court has also incorporated the doctrine of ‘polluter pays’ from international environmental law and has held that the polluter, i.e. the entity responsible for causing the environmental damage, must bear the entire cost of restitution. By limiting compensation, which includes damages for victim injury and environmental harm to Rs. 2045 crores, the Bill rides roughshod over Supreme Court precedent, departs from international best practices and deals a body blow to victim compensation pursuant to a nuclear accident. As the Bhopal Gas tragedy demonstrates, compensation payable pursuant to nuclear accidents may be much greater than the limits set by the Bill. Despite this experience, setting a surprisingly low maximum limit for compensation symbolically diminishes the value, the government accords to human life in India.

The low amount of total compensation pursuant to a nuclear accident also allows the Bill to set an even lower liability cap for operators. At Rs. 500 crores, the maximum amount borne by the operator is less than 1/4th of the entire amount which is payable. This is an insignificant proportion of liability and much lesser than international conventions which contain like provisions. According to the Vienna Convention, as amended by the 1997 Protocol, liability of an operator can be set at any amount not below 300 million SDR. It can be reduced, provided the government compensates for the balance, to 150 million SDR. This is equivalent to Rs. 1023 crores, more than double the liability cap on an operator in India. Other treaties such as the Convention on Supplementary Compensation for Nuclear Damage and most comparable national legislations too have equal or higher caps. Hence by capping the entire liability in respect of a nuclear incident and setting a startlingly low cap on operator liability, the bill goes too far in incentivising nuclear operators at the cost of victims and their fundamental right to receive full compensation for losses suffered.

A red herring insofar as liability caps are concerned is Clause 46 of the Bill. By far the most ambiguously worded clause, it presents a curious compromise of interests regarding concurrent liability for nuclear damage under other legislations. Ordinarily, if a special legislation has been created to determine damages with respect to nuclear incidents, common sense would dictate that the special legislation be comprehensive and oust other remedies. Only such specialisation would justify the infrastructure and resources in creating a distinct administrative machinery. Though Clause 46 suggests this interpretation, it can equally be read as permitting concurrent actions against operators under other legislations in force. If this latter conclusion if correct, then the Bill loses its raison d’être. Not only does it fail to oust other remedies against operators, which would be a fundamental rationale for a special legislation that offers itself as an incentive to private operators, equally it creates a procedural nightmare for victims as it sets up multiple forums to sue. This ambiguity, embodied by an unhappily worded provision, is indicative of poor drafting at best, and confused governmental policy at worst. Either way, it leaves a lot to be desired.

Finally, in terms of the institutions the Bill creates, it does little to avoid fundamental conflicts of interest. It vests the Atomic Energy Regulatory Board, the regulator under the Atomic Energy Act, 1962 with the power to notify a nuclear incident which will trigger the operation of the bill. In other words, for the bill to become operational the regulator must admit to its own regulatory failure! Besides, the independence of Claims Commissioners and the members of the Nuclear Damage Claims Commission who adjudicate claims arising out of nuclear incidents are not adequately safeguarded. They are appointed by the government, may themselves be current or retired government servants and can also be removed by the government. Their terms, and the salary of the Claims Commissioners too are contingent on the government. Given the fact that irrespective of the future possibility of private operators, all nuclear plants are currently owned and operated by the government, there is a fundamental conflict of interest between the adjudicating institutions set up by the bill and the government which will be a defendant should claims out of a nuclear incident arise. The failure to adequately safeguard the independence of these adjudicatory institutions taints them with an institutional bias and thereby casts doubts regarding their legitimacy.

Prime Minister Manmohan Singh at the Nuclear Security Summit in Washington in April spoke about “the need to restore public faith in nuclear power”. The Bill understandably would be a key medium to enable such restoration. However as it currently stands and as the debates surrounding the Bill demonstrate, it is skewed in favour of nuclear operators, pays inadequate heed to interests of victims, sets up institutions which are systemically flawed and represents governmental ambivalence on key issues. Addressing these concerns and setting up a balanced civil liability regime for nuclear accidents, consonant with international practice and Supreme Court precedent would go a long way in restoring public faith and assuring citizens that the Bill has been drafted with their interests uppermost in the government’s mind.

Posted in National Politics | Tagged , | 1 Comment

Structural features of Education in India – Part 1

Based on my one year work in India, I would summarize some of my important observations about the structure of the education system in India.

India is obviously a huge nation, so no single article/policy or framework can adequately capture all the aspects of education. However, in the subsequent paragraphs, I will try to systematically synthesize a coherent framework that can help us to make some important distinctions, understand some key underlying concepts and give a broad overview of its success/failures. In the later articles on this subject, I will try and elucidate some of the finer points, and seek to fill in the details.

The following structural factors characterize the education in India to a large extent. We can divide the whole population of India between age groups 5-17 into four broad categories.

a) Large uneducated /illiterate or severely undereducated rural community that enrolls in rural government schools.

b) An elite / well established English speaking urban populace, which is a minority, that enrolls in elite English speaking schools.

c) A significant upwardly mobile English speaking urban population, that enrolls in mid level private schools in urban areas OR some well functioning government institutions (like KVs)

d) An even more significant and largely ignored urban  urban population, that enrolls in the ill functioning government schools or community run / NGO run private schools.

Apart from these, we can argue that at any time, a lot of people are ‘in transition’, and since education is a very precious resource, closely linked with both social economic prosperity and social status, at any time, there is a large community which is moving from one of these categories to another.

An accurate education system that is (a) just and fair (b) meritorious towards the performers (c) is able to improve the abilities of the under performers (d) Addresses how to include the non-performers (or the highly under performing communities) into the system is needless to say very difficult and complex to both design and implement and will take an integrated structural reforms at the socio-political and economic systems of the nation.

Some of this task will be economic and market driven. Eg. we do not need to attempt to design or implement the system, which is part b). The schools run in this category are largely driven by demand and supply. However the schools that come under category c) are driven both by demand and supply and by other factors such as the existing economic parameters in the society. Schools under category a) and category d) to a large extent are government or community run, and suffer from rampant corruption, ill-funds, poor thinking etc. needing a very strong socio-political and economic framework to instantiate the process of any reform or change.

Thus before attempting to have a debate or discussion on reform, we need to lay down a structural basis, that can be an approximate model of the full system. Needless to say, such a model can never be perfect, and can only ‘approximate’ the issues that we are trying to discuss. However, as long as the model is a ‘good fit’ or a fairly representative approximation, it gives us enough basis to move on the tasks of reforms, discussions, debates and analysis.

This can also help us streamline our discussions to be more productive and conducive. Eg. any discussion of the effect of political instability on the schools under category b) is largely irrelevant, since these schools are economically driven by a fairly well off section of the society and therefore immune to political factors. Similarly, a discussion that does not include any economic point but only focuses on the political situation for schools in category c) is again faulty, because the schools here are effected both by economic power of the section that ‘powers’ them as well as the political situation and so on…

I have clearly identified four broad pillars of this structures above. The representation, I believe is mostly based on my individual experiences. Modification of this structure should be done with care, because since the future focus would be based on this ‘underlying’ foundation, if proven, that this structural model is weak or faulty, that undermines our attempts of further reforms and analysis making the results either trivial or insignificant.

Next, we move on to the equally important, but rather difficult task of capturing transitions. Any structural model needs to include the important fact of transitions in some form, because needless to say the society or these structures are not static. Infact, as I am writing this, the structure is changing dynamically (say a student from rural areas just enrolled in an upper middle class urban school, thus changing the statistical model). Economic progress in different parts etc. is also changing this structure dynamically, sometimes more rapidly than we may think.

Eg. a very strong economic progress can push a large section from part d) to part c) in another two decades, thus making the task of policy reform for schools in part (d) again pointless, because the economy is itself creating the transformation that policy makers would essentially be wasting their time trying to do.

Although, this change appears to be slow, over a period of time, it is precisely these changes that we need to capture neatly, because of make any policy or propose any  business/economic argument that is durable, our underlying model needs to include the change in the model itself. This is highly complex, because we are trying to capture the change, and effect of the change in a single model, which is very hard.

In the future posts, I will build on the underlying basis and suggest appropriate topics that we can then adequate propose and discuss since the base has now been laid down(Example of such a topic is say: Science Education in Rural cities and emerging urban and semi rural areas).

Posted in Science & Technology | Tagged , | 8 Comments

Highway to Hell

What makes it the case that modern liberal states should care about someone’s religion? That is rather easy to answer. If it is a necessary duty of the state that it ought to promote the well being of it’s members, it follows that if its members believe that their religion is central to their well being, peace of mind and other such like, the state must have something to say about it. And, more often than not, it should have something positive to say about it. Of course, we limit these instances of positive commendation in certain circumstances; most notably, when certain religious beliefs translate into practices that harm others.

But what has boggled my mind for very long is why a country like India needs to accord a special place to religion? If I have a non-religious belief that is central to my well-being why should that be thought of as any less than having a religious belief to that effect. To put it differently, should the state give people professing a religion or religious institutions special rights that are not accorded to other persons? Let me articulate my worry with the following example – why should colleges that are affiliated with a particular religion be given special rights that no other college has. If I start a college with the professed motive of simply providing quality education to students and helping society by way of research, why should my rights in selecting students be any less than those of, most famously, St. Stephen’s College in New Delhi?

What is so special about religion anyway? Can you clearly articulate what is special about religion qua religion? What is so special about saying that I am carrying out the will of god (Yes, not God) as opposed to carrying out what is ordinarily morally demanded of me. Let me say the following, however: I am not saying that religion is bunk and it should therefore be subjected to special disadvantages. I do think the former, but that is inconsequential.

Now, before you jump up and say that religion is a hot-button issue and therefore demands extra consideration, let me say that that is a contingent factor. When you say that religion should be respected because it is a hot-button issue, you are not saying that the state should respect religion qua religion, you are saying religion should be handled carefully only because it is socially divisive and evokes strong emotions. If there were a non-religious moral commitment that were as central to my well being, as religion is to yours, I deserve to be treated in a manner no less than you and vice versa. Both are questions of conscience, and to distinguish one form of conscience and moral commitment from the other is arbitrary and absurd. I have failed to find anyone who has provided a cogent reason why religion is a special category of demands made upon persons that gives it special significance in the sphere of public reason.

Thus, I have a sneaking feeling that the Constitution violates equality. I know there are many “constitution-defenders” who will question this, but I leave that for another day. Before closing this post, let me add some more masala to the mix – I also think one part of the constitution is in direct conflict with another. Does the right to (extra) freedom of religion (Art. 25, 26) (as opposed to other matters of conscience) conflict with the general right to equality (A. 14)?

Posted in Economic & Social Policy | Tagged , , | 8 Comments

Abuse of History: Left and Right

For those who are reasonably well acquainted with political debates in India, it must be familiar knowledge that one of the major accusations leveled against the previous NDA government by the UPA was that the former had tried to paint (and partially succeeded in painting) India’s history with liberal strokes of very strongly colored saffron paint. This corrupting saffron strain was found in various spheres of cultural life – history textbooks, the disproportionate importance given to Sanskrit in allocating research funds (and by a dangerous corollary, the relegation of Urdu to a secondary status), the selection and appointment of right-wing inclined experts on major government bodies, trying to make dubious divisive historical figures respectable by hanging their oil canvases striking chivalrous poses in Parliament (Veer Savarkar), the list goes on. In response to these various acts of the NDA government, the ‘detoxification’ campaign of the UPA I government was initiated. The aim and purpose of this campaign, the name of which evokes images of oily massages in Kerala, was supposedly to set things right by ridding the right slant of the previous regime and to render history teaching and scholarship untainted by the influences of politics. As objectives go, this seemed to be uncontroversial.

I will not in this piece be concerned with the individual allegations of saffronisation and whether they were justified. I will also not be dealing with whether the detoxification campaign has actually resulted in tilting the balance way too much to the left. You will find that there are quite rabid views held either way and as is increasingly the case these days the case with rabid views, you will find the internet is practically full of them.

Instead, I will be exploring the basis for the detoxification programme, trying to understand why such a programme is required. Further I will illustrate one particular instance where the actions of the present government have gone against this very basis, albeit not in the context of Hindu-Muslim politics, but in an entirely different context. It is my argument that regardless of political context or convenience, the principles underlying the detoxification programme need to be applied impartially and consistently. If not so applied, you open yourself up to the very justifiable criticism that your concern is not with detoxification as a dispassionate ideal, rather, your aim is to favor one version of history over another to suit your political requirements in the present.

There are essentially two reasons that suggest themselves to any person of common sense as to why such a policy of detoxification is required. I shall, rather grandiosely call them:

a. The Non-Consequentialist Reason This reason goes to the fact that most of insertions inspired by the saffronisation programme were not correct. Truth as a value is of utmost importance in history, without which one loses all sense of objectivity. For instance, it was simply not true that India’s history comprised of three distinct ages being the golden Hindu Age, the miserable suffering dark ages of Islamic conquest and the British Colonial Age as was sought to be portrayed (or alleged to have been portrayed) by the saffornists. That this was not true was the opinion of nearly all respected sane historians.

b. The Consequentialist Reason The consequentialist reason, which for our purposes is more important, relates to the impact such a programme of tinkering with history has on the present – the ideological use to which the history is being put. It did not require divine inspiration to guess the motives behind the saffronisation programme. By painting Indian history as a long story of desecrated Hindu temples and raped Hindu women by marauding Islamic outsiders, they were trying to convey the message that a certain community in India had primacy over others. This has a very visibly dangerous and toxic effect on society.

So there are your two reasons – one, that it is not true and two, that it is dangerous. A recent event has thrown light on the face that this sort of misuse of history is not the sole prerogative of the NDA government and that the UPA encourages, indulges or suffers it quietly if its political interests are served.

The issue in question is the World Tamil Classical Conference that was concluded recently at great expense and pomp in Coimbatore. More specifically, the recipient of the (rather unfortunately named) Kalaignar M Karunanidhi Classical Tamil Award. This award was presented to a Swedish scholar named Asko Parpola whose primary contribution to the Tamil language is that he has spent a lot of time and effort trying to prove that Tamil and the Indus Valley language are related. Not many people, apart from the scholar himself, the Tamil Nadu government and the Hindu newspaper seem to be convinced that he has actually succeeded in this endeavor. And even amongst those who are convinced, it seems to the impartial observer, that they are fervently hoping that they are convinced rather than actually being convinced. I don’t want to bore the readers with an elaboration of his assertions, but I think it is safe to say that according the present state of the scholarship, this award is something similar to giving the Nobel prize in Medicine to someone who has spent a lot of time in trying to find a cheap cure for cancer but has not conclusively demonstrated his cure works. It may true that Tamil and the Indus language are related. You cannot definitely say it is not true. But then again, you cannot definitely say it is true. The only reason you have given him the award is because you want it to be true.

I can think of only one factor behind awarding what is supposed to a prestigious award to what is, given the present stage of scholarship, at best, a plausible conjecture – politics. Let my readers not assume that I am taking a stance on the actual issue. I don’t claim to know that Tamil and the Indus Valley Language are not related. Indeed, I find the discussions on the topic irredeemably boring. My concern here is to explore the underlying political reasons and implications of the choice. What could be the political motivations in being so eager to declare that Tamil and the Indus Valley Language are related?

 I can think of a few, I will leave it to my readers to make up the rest. For one, it goes to the old assertion that the inhabitants of the south, the Dravidians are the original inhabitants of the subcontinent. The people of the North or the Aryans invaded immigrated into India and hence have their homeland elsewhere. Another, it goes to show that Tamil is at lest as old as, if not actually older than Sanskrit. More importantly it is entirely distinct from Sanskrit and any influence of Sanskrit on Tamil is a later influence which is a result of political domination. This is a matter of grave pride for a lot of people in the DMK. The more disturbing implication is that it can and will be used to divide people. By portraying Tamil’s history as a binary between a golden age where Sangam Poetry flourished along the banks of the Indus (all along it used to be banks of the Vaigai or the Kaveri) and subsequent centuries of suppression by the Sanskrit speaking Brahmins, there is a very dangerous implication for present day politics in Tamil Nadu. Any form of a binary that has little historical basis and is used to peddle ideologies in the present are suspect, regardless of whether they originate on the left or the right. This particular binary has been used with great effect by the Dravidian parties over the past fifty years, to claim power on the basis that they are the voice of the natives, the original inhabitants of the sub continent. But that is just not true. Nobody is an original inhabitant of any place in any real sense. If the UPA is supposedly disturbed by a theory that suggests that Muslims are outsiders, it ought to be equally concerned by a theory that suggests that vast sections of the Indian population are outsiders.

Again, history may prove me wrong and in ten years it might be standard scholarship that the Indus Valley people used to break out in ornate Tamil poetry at every given opportunity, but my point is limited. It is just that, given the present state of the scholarship, what is merely the wishful thinking of certain politicians is being passed off as history for evidently political purposes and that is wrong. This mistake has both the hallmarks associated with saffornisation programme – it is poor history and has possibly dangerous consequences.

Posted in Philosophy, Religion & Culture | 2 Comments