Sunday, March 27, 2016
Friday, March 25, 2016
By Swapan Dasgupta
One of the consequences of democracy striking deeper roots is that elections have become less predictable in India. The sheer frequency with which ruling parties at both the Centre and the states have been ousted by quiet expressions of rage has made the political class nervous and more responsive to grassroots opinion. In the normal course this should have ensured that there is greater emphasis by governments on governance and delivery of state services.
Curiously, this has not always been the case. Both the Left Front in West Bengal and Lalu Prasad Yadav in Bihar managed to win successive elections, not on the basis of their track record in governance, but on the strength of their ability to mobilise either class or caste. However, in neighbouring Orissa, the understated Naveen Patnaik has prevailed for four successive elections almost entirely on the strength of his innate decency and the quality of governance. Indeed, in 2009, when he broke with his long-time Bharatiya Janata Party ally, the Biju Janata Dal was able to turn psephology on its head.
The validity of psephology—loosely translated for the purposes of this article as electoral arithmetic—in both planning and forecasting elections has often been questioned. My own experience suggests that politicians, especially those with a mass orientation, are inclined to discount psephology in favour of the ‘chemistry’ of politics.
This ‘chemistry’ is sometimes difficult to fathom. In last year’s Bihar Assembly elections, the BJP was convinced that the arithmetic of the Rahtriya Janata Dal-Janata Dal (United)-Congress alliance would be overturned by the realignment of forces after the 2014 general election. It didn’t happen. The BJP and allies more or less maintained their 2014 vote share but a united opposition was easily able to overwhelm them through the first-past-the-post system. The chemistry in evidence at Prime Minister Modi’s hugely attended rallies failed to defeat the logic of arithmetic.
In the Delhi Assembly election of January 2015, there was a curious combination of both chemistry and psephology. Here the BJP vote slipped significantly from 46.6 per cent in 2014 to 32.19 per cent in 2015. But more significant, a new political party—Aam Aadmi Party—took a sizable chunk of the both the BJP and Congress vote and swept the board by polling a monumental 54.34 per cent of the popular vote.
It is troubling to compare a state Assembly election with a parliamentary poll where national issues dominate and national parties enjoy a bulge. Viewed against the 2013 Assembly poll in Delhi that resulted in a fractured verdict and a short-lived government headed by Arvind Kejriwal, the results seem more confusing. The BJP vote fell nominally from 34.12 per cent in 2013 to 32.19 per cent in 2015. But the real collapse was that of the Congress. Its popular vote slipped from 24.67 per cent in 2013 to 9.70 per cent in 2015. The huge 25 per cent surge in the AAP was, it would seem, a direct consequence of the Congress collapse and the irrelevance of smaller parties and Independent candidates.
Was Delhi, therefore, a triumph of chemistry or psephology? First, there a phenomenal display of voter volatility and the notion of a ‘safe seat’ went through the window. Secondly, it is undeniable that Kejriwal captured the imagination of voters, with AAP polling over 50 per cent of the votes. Finally, the erstwhile dominant party, BJP, held on to its core vote but lost out owing to the de-facto consolidation of all non-BJP votes behind AAP.
Each Assembly poll has its own dynamics and it is hazardous to extend the logic of one to another. Yet, there is a simple psephological logic that is applicable throughout India: unless there is a dramatic change in the chemistry, electoral arithmetic prevails.
West Bengal is one of the prime examples of this—as indeed are Kerala and Tamil Nadu. Before Mamata Banerjee split from the parent party in 1998, the principal opponent of the CPI(M)-led Left Front was the Congress. Before that split, the Congress vote (from 1977) varied between a high of 41.81 per cent in 1987—at the height of Rajiv Gandhi’s popularity—to a low of 35.12 per cent in 1991—when it lost a chunk of its traditional vote to the Ram wave of the BJP. But this vote share—which may have even ensured a majority in fractured Uttar Pradesh—invariably proved inadequate to defeat a united Left Front.
It necessitated a blend of chemistry and psephology in 2011 to oust the Left Front. The Left Front vote fell from 48.41 per cent in 2006 to 39.68 per cent—a decline of 8.73 per cent. In 2006, the Trinammol Congress-BJP alliance had polled 32.30 per cent—a decline of 3.55 per cent from its 2001 performance—and in 2011, Mamata Banerjee’s alliance with the Congress fetched it 48.02 per cent, with the Congress polling 9.09 per cent. Obviously, the chemistry of anti-Left sentiment and the charisma of Mamata played a huge role in effecting this landslide victory.
In the context of the Left Front’s tacit alliance with the Congress in the forthcoming Assembly poll, it is pertinent to assess the independent strength of the Congress and the efficacy of its new alliance. After the TMC split, support for the Congress, fighting independently, varied between 7.98 per cent in 2001 and 14.71 per cent in 2006. In the 2014 election, the Congress polled 9.69 per cent, below the BJP that polled a whopping 17.02 per cent. Much of the Congress support came from the border districts of North Bengal. In the rest of the state it was a fringe player.
If we assume the Congress support to be around nine per cent, the TMC would seem to be under threat. In 2014, against its popular vote of 39.79 per cent, the combined tally of the Left Front and Congress was 39.64 per cent. On paper therefore, both sides seem evenly poised.
However, elections are not determined by simple arithmetic alone. First, while the Left and Congress undoubtedly enjoy an upper hand in North Bengal, Mamata doesn’t seem to under any apparent threat in the rest of the state. Secondly, the ability of the Congress to transfer its vote to the Left—always the adversary, barring a brief spell in 1972 when the CPI allied with Indira Gandhi—is untested. I have little doubt that the Left votes will transfer to Congress candidates but there may not be any reciprocity. Finally, using the 2014 results as a base may prove misleading. Traditionally, the BJP has performed better in Lok Sabha elections than local elections. In 2014, courtesy the national euphoria around Modi, it polled 17.02 per cent and even led in nearly 24 Assembly segments, including Mamata’s own. It is unlikely this is going to be replicated, not least because the local BJP failed to maintain its post-2014 momentum. It may recover ground in the 2019 parliamentary poll but the present election doesn’t seem its take-off point.
In sum, the West Bengal Assembly poll rests on two imponderables. First, will Congress voters transfer their votes to the Left? Secondly, who will BJP voters perceive as their principal enemy? Recall that in 2014, the BJP votes came from all the three groupings. It is hazardous to make election forecasts but history suggests that Bengal’s voters are inclined to give the incumbent a long rope. The Congress won three consecutive terms between 1952 and 1967; and the Left won seven consecutive elections from 1977. The precedent suggests that Mamata still has some more time at the crease.
The Telegraph, March 25, 2016
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
By Swapan Dasgupta
There were a lot of things that the Finance Minister Arun Jaitley got right in his 2016 Union Budget. The greatest achievement lay undoubtedly in the Finance Ministry’s adherence to fiscal deficit target that, apart from boosting India’s credibility in the troubled world of global capitalism, has put intense pressure on the Reserve Bank of India Governor Raghuram Rajan to bring down interest rates further and make the cost of money more competitive.
To my mind, the 2016 Budget suffered from two significant shortcomings. The first, which has already kicked up a political storm and may even lead to a rollback, was the tax imposed on lump-sum withdrawals from the Employees Provident Scheme. The proposal to synchronise the different post-retirement schemes may well have precedents in the West. However, the belief that a privilege once given to the workforce of the organised sector can be peremptorily withdrawn indicated an astonishing measure of political naiveté. In the past, Jaitley has been accused of being too trusting of his bureaucrats, many of whom were positively hostile to the Narendra Modi Government, and not even kindly disposed towards the Finance Minister personally. In endorsing the EPF changes in the name of ‘reform’, he was guilty of accepting the wisdom of economists without political filtration. A Budget that had otherwise secured the approval of the political class, investors and even voters, was quite needlessly dragged into controversy for no apparent gain to the state exchequer. The obvious lesson of this EPF storm is obvious: the economy is too serious a business to be left to the economists.
The second big shortcoming of a Budget that has otherwise brought a sense of relief in globally uncertain times may not actually even qualify as a shortcoming in India. Indeed, it has neither been noticed nor will it be acknowledged even if it is brought to the public notice.
In his post-Budget commentary, the more-feared-than-respected former Finance Minister P. Chidambaram dubbed Jaitley’s Budgets a set of missed opportunities. The Congress stalwart’s displeasure was, among other nit-picking items, based on Jaitley’s failure to announce a formal repudiation of the retrospective tax—a self-defeating measure of the UPA-II Government headed by a Prime Minister whose academic accomplishments as an economic pundit are truly enviable.
I think that it was truly astonishing that neither Chidambaram nor the incumbent Finance Minister deemed it relevant to make any mention of the fact that the 2016 Budget marked the 25th anniversary of the landmark Manmohan Singh Budget that began the process of bringing down the curtain on the over-regulated, control-permit raj—the ‘socialism’ that Indira Gandhi had injected into the Preamble of the Constitution in 1976, and which ingloriously remain in the statutes.
There is a prevailing debate on the origins of the controlled economy that the P.V. Narasimha Rao Government began demolishing in 1991. Some trace the disfigurement of the post-Independence economy to Jawaharlal Nehru’s genuflections before the Soviet Union; and others trace it to Indira Gandhi’s radical posturing after the Congress split of 1969.
Whatever the point of embarkation, there is little that can contest the horrible outcome: perennial shortages, public sector incompetence, the smugness of cronyism and soaring sales of one-way tickets out of India. Those who haven’t experienced the realities of India prior to the mid-Nineties can scarcely believe the gloominess created by the feeling of stagnation and zero hope. The only relief was the fantasy world of a film industry that provided the voyeuristic delights of romance, tourism and adventure. The socialism India experienced scarred the mind of a country as crippling taxation (which, in some cases, touched 98 per cent) and shortages—imagine travelling abroad with just the permissible eight dollars in your pocket—created a culture centred on shortcuts and plain deceit.
In an ideal world, the process of deregulation that began in the Budget of 1991 should have happened much earlier. By 1980, it was clear to Indira Gandhi that the state was severely overstretched and becoming dysfunctional. It was also evident that the wave of nationalisations and controls over organised manufacturing industry was costing India dearly. Alas, the Congress believed that the poetry of deprivation was a vote-winning formula that Indira Gandhi had turned into a fine art. There could be the occasional deviations—usually favours doled out to notables that enjoyed a special relationship with either the first family or the political Establishment. However, the idea of a rule-based regime where discretionary powers were kept to a bare minimum never struck a responsive chord with a dynastic Establishment that believed it was there to rule India permanently.
Rajiv Gandhi saw himself as a modernist and was slightly impatient with the political culture of his mother—just as Indira Gandhi felt hamstrung by the Syndicate. Yet, neither Rajiv nor his group of English-speaking inheritors were inclined to deviate from the socialist paternalism of the past. For Rajiv, technology was just an instrument of guided efficiency.
The extent to which this socialist culture and the glorification of both poverty and austerity—one of the less attractive facets of Mahatma Gandhi’s worldview—became part of the Great Indian consensus, infecting all parties. Apart from the Swatantra Party that combined its distaste for the pro-Soviet foreign policy tilt of the Nehru-Gandhi family with a partiality for liberal, pro-market economics, all the other parties were committed to variants of state controls.
The Jana Sangh and, subsequently, the Bharatiya Janata Party was no exception. Although its social base was, in the early days, made up disproportionately of traders and small businessmen who wanted relief from high taxes and the Inspector Raj, its defining identity was provided by its distinctive views of nationhood. The BJP, which injected Gandhian socialism as a core belief in its founding document in 1980, had grave doubts over putting any great emphasis on economic policy. ‘Neither Left nor Right, but nation’ has been the slightly ambiguous but preferred mantra of the saffron parivar for long.
This ambiguity, however, has underemphasised a few features of the BJP’s economic thinking. First, stemming from the distaste of its social bases for high taxes and state intrusiveness, the BJP has consistently favoured deregulation. It is worth remembering that there was an informal understanding between Prime Minister Rao and the BJP leadership over ensuring a smooth passage for the 1991 Budget. Had the BJP teamed up with the Left and its fellow travellers to try and turn the clock back, the liberalisation process would have ended up as the proverbial turning point when history refused to turn. Indeed, the most significant opposition to the 1991 Budget came from the so-called Bombay Club—a clutch of industrialists fearful of competition—and Left intellectuals. Nikhil Chakravartty, a widely-read columnist enjoying a very special relationship with the erstwhile Soviet Union, even described Manmohan Singh as a Quisling—after the Norwegian politician who collaborated with the Nazis—for his repudiation of India’s socialist high church.
Secondly, there was (and probably is) a large chunk of the BJP that wanted the deregulatory process limited to Indian capital. Murli Manohar Joshi’s famous distinction between computer chips and potato chips, personified the BJP’s partiality for swadeshi entrepreneurs against videshi capital. In the mid-1990’s the BJP mounted an against India’s membership of the World Trade Organisation that would make international trade less subject to the vicissitudes of national politics; and even as late as 2011-12, it stubbornly opposed the opening-up of the retail sector to the Wallmarts and Ikeas.
At the same time, it is important to recognise that the BJP’s opposition to globalisation has undergone a significant dilution. After the 1998 nuclear tests in Pokhran and the imposition of sanctions by the Bill Clinton Administration, the Atal Behari Vajpayee decided to turn crisis into opportunity by opening the doors wide open to both Foreign Direct Investment and Foreign Institutional Investment. Under the first NDA Government of Vajpayee, a large number of holy cows were put out to pasture. These included the unhindered entry of foreign capital in the entertainment media and a more qualified entry in news media. Under the Modi government, the defence sector—one of the holiest of the holy cows—has been opened for 49 per cent foreign investment. Foreign capital has secured a backdoor entry in the retailing of agricultural produce and, in time, we may witness the opening up of legal services and higher education to overseas participation. In a footnote of this year’s Budget, automatic residence rights have been granted to foreign (non-OCI) passport holders with significant investments in India.
In the past 25 years, India has inched forward in the direction of both internal liberalisation and globalisation. Yet, it is worth noting that the breakthroughs have resulted, not from a sense of political necessity, but as a grudging response to crises. The process began in 1991 following a severe balance of payments crisis and the mortgage of a part of India’s gold reserves; and the second wave, during the Vajpayee years, was a considered attempt to negate the damaging effects of the post-Pokhran sanctions. India has lowered its protectionist impulses whenever the gun has been pointed at its head.
In the past 20 months, the Modi Government has taken the process many more steps further. Part of the reform initiatives that involve improving the ease of doing business in India has been the result of the Prime Minister’s own experiences in Gujarat and the overall revulsion against the earlier government’s ‘tax terrorism.’ However, there is another dimension that has remained understated.
Within a few months in power, the Modi government came to the conclusion that its faith in the ability of Indian industry to revive the investment cycle had been based on over-optimism. Its stringent measures against the reckless cronyism of the UPA, not least of which was the pressure on banks to target defaulters and lower the quantum of non-performing assets, had offended a big chunk of Indian corporates seeking special favours. Rather than succumb to these pressures and expose itself to charges of cronyism, the government chose to look outwards for foreign investors. An aggressive overseas outreach programme aimed at improving India’s global image, a Make in India programme that offered the bait of a vast domestic market in India and a relatively stable fiscal regime are facets of a determination to not be cowed down by sullen domestic fat cats.
The NDA government’s reform initiatives predated the crash in commodity prices, the economic turbulence in China and the slowdown in the Arab world. But the unintended consequence is that India’s economy now appears more stable, more enduring and more wholesome—despite some outstanding muddles in tax administration—than what many other emerging markets can offer. After his first two Budgets, Jaitley was widely berated by the commentariat for being too conservative and needless incremental. In hindsight, he appears to have been proved more correct than his critics. His non-ideological approach has prevailed.
One of the lessons that the Modi Government has learnt is to avoid selling the virtues of a deregulated market economy too much. ‘Rolling back the frontiers of the state’ was Thatcher’s mantra against the post-War consensus in Britain. The BJP has cut down the state’s involvement in economic management but it has desisted from flaunting it as an achievement. Instead, it has retained the flexibility to fall back on state intervention when the situation warranted. In fact, its intervention to uprade India’s creaking infrastructure and improve the quality of its welfare schemes has been based enlightened Keynesianism. In the Budgets of both 2015 and 2016, Jaitley has spoken of the need to construct a modern welfare state—not an approach usually associated with the Right wing in Europe and North America.
There is an obvious message that politicians have grasped better than better than the ideologues who supported Modi in the belief that he is another Thatcher and Lee Kwan Yew put together. In India, as the EPF controversy demonstrates, the faith in the state over an uncertain market is widespread. The assertion that the state should occupy the ‘commanding heights’ of the economy was based on dogma and, quite predictably, landed India in an almighty mess. Likewise, a purely market-centric position, apart from putting decision-making in a straitjacket, suffers from an absence of popular legitimacy. Indians want a state, but a state as a protector and watchdog. The debates of the next 25 years will probably be centred on the necessary balance between an enlightened state and a less skewed market that offers opportunities for a fiercely aspirational Young India.
OPEN magazine, March 4, 2016
Monday, March 14, 2016
By Swapan Dasgupta
Late afternoon last Friday, I switched on the TV to a ‘national’ channel, hoping to catch up on what has been happening in India, if not the world, before stepping out for dinner. Imagine my utter astonishment when I found the entire focus of nearly all the English-language channels on the traffic in Delhi.
The news readers solemnly informed viewers—the few that have the TV on in the late afternoons—that a combination of some 25,000 marriages and a huge cultural festival being organised by Sri Sri Ravi Shankar’s Art of Living would mean hideous traffic jams in Delhi. The tone was distinctly alarmist, as if to suggest that all decent folk should remain sane by remaining indoors. And then the focus shifted to the AOL event where the Prime Minister was due to speak. Here the suggestion was that the lifestyle guru’s cultural jamboree would result in the total destruction of Delhi’s already fragile environment. Reading between the lines, the impression was unmistakeable: the Hindu hordes were holding the Capital to ransom with their environmental vandalism and their opulent weddings.
It’s not that I dislike local news or have joined the band of climate change sceptics who assault the sensibilities of Green fundamentalist. What seemed bizarre to me was the generous top billing accorded to the traffic situation in Delhi. While we may have definite views on what should or should not be done to maintain the health of our rivers, I find it hard to believe that the AOL lot are single-mindedly out to destroy what nature has bequeathed to India. More important, I find it curious that our TV producers believe that a small controversy in Delhi would be of paramount interest to the English-knowing viewers in India’s other cities and towns.
Over the years and increasingly in the past six months, the important distinction between what is Delhi and what is nation is being effortlessly obliterated.
As a rule, I like to glance at the morning newspapers in any city I am visiting, to gauge the local preoccupations. I was consequently astounded when, on a recent visit to Kolkata, I found the entire first page of editorial content (thanks to advertisements, that is alas no longer page one) of the city’s main English newspaper devoted to a slightly tendentious coverage of the events in Jawaharlal Nehru University in Delhi. True, there is a body of JNU alumnus resident in Kolkata who follow the happenings of their alma mater. But had anything so earth shattering happened that day to warrant the entire first page to be devoted to JNU?
The distortion began for a purely economic reason. Cash-strapped news channels in particular began to increase their coverage of Delhi and the National Capital region because it was relatively cheaper. It is expensive, to say the least, to despatch Outside Broadcast vans and reporters to remote areas of India to chase an interesting story. It is far better to merely look at what is happening at the channel’s doorstep and project it as truly ‘national’. This incidentally also works to the benefit of the media savvy Aam Aadmi Party government in Delhi that, apart from punching above its weight, also sees itself as the true ‘national’ alternative to the Narendra Modi government. An expedient combination of cost cutting and political partisanship has, therefore reshaped the hierarchy of news. Earlier, the belief was that all politics is local; now that principle is being rewritten to imply that Delhi is always national.
The shift has led to unintended consequences. Earlier this month after the JNU student’s union president Kanhaiya Kumar was grudgingly granted bail by a Magistrate’s Court, he returned to JNU as an all-conquering hero. After the exhilarating bout of ‘revolutionary’ slogans and excitable speeches, shown live on TV, we had the comic spectacle of the student leader being interviewed by nearly all the channels. This by itself is unexceptionable but what was laughable was the depiction of the articulate, rabble rousing Kanhaiya Kumar as a political philosopher with a ranking next to Plato or even Lenin. I don’t know whether this rather excessive elevation of the young man with JNU as his near-permanent address will result in Modi getting frazzled, losing his political touch and securing the BJP’s return to the opposition benches in Parliament. However, it has secured the construction of a make-believe world where politics can be played in the safe zones of the campus and the TV studios.
The centrality of Delhi in this political course has, quite predictably, led to the mainstreaming of ridiculous fringe tendencies. It has also led to the media believing it is now in the vanguard of change. A casual perusal of the social media reveals that anchors and reporters are less interested in covering news than in proffering their views in 140 characters.
This was also the reason why Sri Sri Ravi Shankar’s event took such a media beating. The AOL icon was portrayed as a dodgy godman because the battle had been elevated into a crusade against Hindu supporters of the PM. I daresay if the event on the Yamuna banks had been organised by an avowedly minority faith group, the media wouldn’t have turned Green guardians. They didn’t even turn guardians of the law when there was an assertion of religious power in Malda district earlier this year. Was that lapse merely a result of distance—Malda is located out of motorable distance from Delhi? Or was it because in today’s environment, all politics has to promote the desecration of an elected government? I guess asking such irritating questions just won’t do: it punctures the bubble in which some people are living.
Sunday Pioneer, March 13, 2016
Friday, March 11, 2016
By Swapan Dasgupta
Maybe it’s a problem of existing in our own ‘safety zones’—used these days as a synonym for ideological bubble. Maybe it’s because we unconsciously divide the world into ‘good’ and ‘evil’—a very un-Hindu temptation. Whatever the underlying reason, my own experience suggests that it is impossible to have a reasonable conversation on the subject of Donald Trump, the clear favourite to win the Republican nomination for November’s presidential election in the United States.
From the billionaire-turned-politician’s perspective, the fact that he is already known to both his own country and overseas is a great achievement. His remaining Republican opponents, including Senators Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio, are by comparison lesser known, at least outside the US. Almost every drawing room across the world now has an opinion of Trump.
However, the awareness of Trump is, alas, based on notoriety. He is unquestionably foul-mouthed, and some of his utterances would be considered deeply offensive, even by normal, non-politically correct standards. Making fun of people’s appearances, while the norm in men’s changing rooms, cannot be regarded as kosher by the standards of either the Left or the Right. Sometimes, even by his permissive standards he went just too far. In 2015, he had to delete a comment on Hilary Clinton from his Twitter handle: “If Hilary Clinton can't satisfy her husband, what makes her think she can satisfy America?” It was a remark that was clearly beyond the pale, and unacceptable in public life.
There are other facets of Trump that are trouble those who feel. His comment on Mexican immigrants is just a small example of the candidate’s desire to be wilfully outrageous: “What can be simpler or more accurately stated? The Mexican Government is forcing their most unwanted people into the United States. They are, in many cases, criminals, drug dealers, rapists…” Likewise, his suggestion that there should be a total ban on any more Muslims entering the US drew so much international flak that many European countries considered banning his entry.
The uniqueness of Trump, to international audiences at least, is that his promise to make America great again contains baggage that doesn’t quite fit existing political containers. He has rubbished Global Warming, the vaccine programme, gestures towards the Third World and called for the creation of a Fortress America—a far cry from the opportunity society whose appeal resonated all through the world.
Had Trump been merely another eccentric American billionaire with just too much money to burn, interest in his outrageous utterances would have been limited. But there are two complications.
First, Trump’s fulmination against a smug Establishment that despises the common man and mocks common decencies has struck a chord. His nomination as the Republican candidate isn’t as yet assured but unless the Establishment gangs up to stop Trump at all costs at the party convention, American politics could take an interesting turn. The exit polls at the different state primaries clearly show that Trump draws his strength from the less-prosperous white working classes, particularly those who combine a self-pride in being hardworking and patriotic with a loathing for the la di dah cosmopolitanism prevalent in Ivy League cabals that rule America. Trump’s articulation is undeniably crude and excessively pugnacious. But it would appear that it is precisely his uninhibited forthrightness that is at the root of his appeal. A significant slice of America wants to be rude, and kick a seemingly uncaring Establishment in the butt. The numbers of those angry enough to endorse Trump is sizable enough to offset a vicious, negative campaign mounted by an emerging Stop Trump coalition that includes a powerful section of the media.
Secondly, the ability of Trump to first secure the Republican nomination, unite the party, get enough crossover votes and finally beat the Democratic Party nominee in November are themes that will be discussed in the coming months. Having been written off as a maverick and even a buffoon from the day he entered the race, Trump has surprised the pundits and pollsters with his ability to turn ridicule to advantage. Every suggestion that he has peaked has been accompanied by unexpected surges in support. My own feeling is that while still the underdog if he enters the final race against Hilary Clinton, Trump will not be wanting in terms of the sheer energy of his supporters. But whether this leads to a repetition of the Barry Goldwater campaign of 1964 against President Lyndon Johnson is worth tracking. In any case, Trump is not quite the non-starter that the media often make him out to be.
Indeed, there is a very serious problem in both the outsiders’ and the media coming to terms with the dynamism and energy of the Trump campaign. There is an overdose of the shortcomings of the billionaire and an unending narration of his status as an outlander—a prejudice that, ironically, adds to Trump’s reputation for being authentic—but there is no attempt to get under the skin of the Trump supporter. The harsh truth is that most of the newsrooms and faculty lounges that determine ‘conventional wisdom’ have probably never met a Trump supporter socially or professionally. They are unsure of what breed of humans they are dealing with. The obsessive preoccupation with minorities and ethnic groupings has contributed to the organised disavowal of communities whose idea of nationhood is both steeped in tradition and also real. In his Who Are We? published in 2004, Samuel P. Huntington had observed the growing erosion of the Judaeo-Christian underpinnings of America. The Trump phenomenon is a crude explosion of ‘white’ anger to keep America what it was.
This failure to appreciate that reality isn’t necessarily what corresponds with the tenets of cosmopolitanism is a global malaise. Last year, some inspiringly misleading footage of large hearted Germans welcoming Syrian refugees soup and stuffed toys convinced a large part of the outside world (including Syria and Turkey) that Angela Merkel was their saviour. The German Chancellor succumbed to do-gooder pressure to atone for the Third Reich and has allowed nearly a million refugees into Germany. Today, the underlying disquiet that the policy makers and media ignored has triggered a backlash that may unsettle political alignments in Germany.
India witnessed convulsions between 1989 and 1993 that, apart from being a nominal movement for a temple was also an assertion of Hindu concerns over lopsided minorityism. The chattering classes seriously underestimated the significance and reach of this upsurge. They chose to inordinately influenced by a certified body of opinion makers, that included the stalwarts of the same Jawaharlal Nehru University that is at the centre of a controversy today. At the heart of the problem was the temptation to remain confined to the safe zones of discourse. Like in today’s US, they had never really known or understood the people or communities who are the equivalent of today’s Trump supporters that are less inclined to observe niceties.
Trump’s rise is akin to an earthquake that is being measured for its intensity. But while rushing to rubbish this maverick, it is equally important to understand the phenomenon that transformed this an into a political phenomenon. Understanding any country necessitates understanding people that are outside one’s own social and political experiences.
The Telegraph, March 11, 2016