Politics And The Rule Of Law
By Ajay K. Mehra
The Hindu
21 May, 2003The present politics of the trishul (trident), talwar (sword) and lathi (baton) is a manifestation of the heightening of sectarian and caste politics since the mid-1980s. While resorting to the politics of aggressive Hindutva since the mid-1980s, the BJP adopted the Vishwa Hindu Parishad's Ayodhya campaign, thus enlarging the Sangh Parivar with the addition of organisations such as the VHP and the Bajrang Dal. In retrospect, with the Parivar since then becoming large and unwieldy, the lumpenisation of the politics of Hindutva has naturally followed.
On the other hand, V.P. Singh's failed Mandal route to political consolidation in 1990, which continues with the Janata Dal variants such as the Samajwadi Party and the Rashtriya Janata Dal, as well as the emergence and consolidation of the Bahujan Samaj Party, have given a new rationale and strength to aggressive caste politics, which has in any case remained the basis of electoral politics in India since Independence.
The VHP's dangerous "trishul diksha" campaign, with the disconcerting acquiescence of the BJP, and equally strange reactions from Amar Singh of the SP and the RJD supremo, Laloo Prasad Yadav, show that the trishul, talwar and lathi have unfortunately emerged as bizarre symbols in Indian politics and queer tools of ethnic mobilisation in an atmosphere of highly competitive party politics in the first decade of the 21st century. Even more dangerous is the news that the VHP has decided to impart firearms training to youth.
The issue deserves a dispassionate discussion and introspective reflection of every section of society because their emergence as symbols of ethnic or religious assertion and identity corrodes the pre-eminent position that the rule of law — an essential ingredient of liberal democracy — should have in our country. Indeed, during the past three decades, the increasing competitiveness in Indian politics has trampled upon the rule of law time and again. This trend has intensified since the 1990s, because most parties, both regional and national, are playing the dual role of ruling and Opposition parties in one context or the other. Each has the political compulsion of guarding its own turf while poaching on the other's turf. This is leading to a double-flanked attack on the rule of law, because wherever in power, the attempt is to manipulate the legal instruments and enforcement agencies not only to one's political advantage, but also to disadvantage the adversary. Both the examples can be seen currently in Uttar Pradesh.
The size and the dimension of the trishul being used for the VHP's campaign, may have been kept within the proscribed limit of the Arms Act, but the selection of the weapon and the design of the campaign as expressions of assertive majority Hindu militancy against the minorities might take the communal tensions beyond Gujarat to other parts of the country. Considering that in Madhya Pradesh, Orissa and, of course, Gujarat, where the ambers of last year's pogrom are still smouldering, the Christians and the Muslims have been on the receiving end of the Hindutva violence, even if seemingly inoffensive in ingredient and make, the trishul is being brandished as a symbol of collective majority violence against the minorities. That the ruling coalition at the Centre is closing its eyes to it and the BJP is defending it as a symbol of cultural nationalism, is creating highly dangerous portents for Indian democracy, as it is putting the institutions of governance and enforcement (the bureaucracy, the police and the Judiciary), already weak and ailing, under severe pressure.
The responses from Mr. Amar Singh and Mr. Laloo Yadav to the Parivar's queer moves are no less strange. Brandishing of swords and rallying with lathis are as offensive to the rule of law and democratic culture as the philosophy behind the trishul diksha. Strangely, defying all the logic of democratic culture, brandishing of a sword by leaders of all parties in public meetings has virtually become a norm lately so much so that even the Union Human Resource Development Minister, who should ideally be waving a pen, proudly photographed himself with a sword in a meeting some time back.
The question is: whom are these symbolic weapons, of cultural nationalism if you please, being brandished against? Though based on the rule of the majority, the liberal democratic culture neither supports an aggressive suppression of the minorities, nor does it propagate violently provocative postures by political parties against communities and against each other. The pertinent question is: how will the Indian state and its agencies practice the rule of law, ensuring equality before law and equal protection of law to the citizens, if the wielders of state power (the opposition included) demonstrate naked aggression and promote a violent political culture? The rule of law guarantees individual and communitarian rights which lie at the core of democracy. Democracy includes institutions and processes that, although beyond the immediate domain of the legal system, are rooted in it.
In fact, while these latest brazen and aggressive manifestations of power and their impact on the Indian democratic culture deserve reflection, we must also remind ourselves that the power play in Indian politics for at least two decades, if not more, has thumbed its nose at the rule of law, if not violated its spirit. Deliberately distorted interpretations of law for political expediency and political moves aimed at confusing law-enforcement have made a mockery of the legal and constitutional systems in our country. The controversies related to the selective (mis)use of POTA in Jharkhand, Gujarat, Tamil Nadu and Uttar Pradesh too are examples of the stresses created for the legal system in the country. The criminalisation of politics as well as the selective use of law of which the Raja Bhaiya and the Samajwadi Party episodes in Uttar Pradesh are the latest examples, have weakened the legal system and created an ambivalence for the institutions of enforcement, be it the lower Judiciary, or the police. The proposed training in firearms to the VHP youth, for example, is in violation of Sections 153, 153(A) and 505 of the Indian Penal Code, yet the Gujarat Police remained mute spectators to such functions in the State. The Rajasthan Chief Minister, Ashok Gehlot, may have won kudos for arresting Praveen Togadia in his State, but the district and sessions judge in Jodhpur while releasing the VHP activists on bail ruled that the trishul could neither be described as a weapon of offence nor of defence. Certainly, the judgment cannot be questioned, but the ruling shows that interpretations are open to convenient partisan justifications.
Mr. Gehlot's courage should not mislead us from the Congress' role in the existing atmosphere of partisanship. While Sheila Dixit may have objected to this programme in Delhi, she could not have taken any action in the absence of an access to the law and order machinery. The BJP-ruled States, with Gujarat showing the way, are, of course, facilitating these unlawful activities with perilous consequences for society and the polity.
Aside from increasing partisanship, Indian politicians unfortunately focus on the routine, though not necessarily efficient, application of the law but do not stress the necessity of subordination of the government (and of the political class) to it. In their view, the law exists not to limit the state (and the political class) but to serve its power. More accurately characterised as `rule by law' rather than the `rule of law', this narrow conception is proving ruinous to Indian democracy.
Trishuls,
Lathis And Books
By Kancha Ilaiah