Different Norms

AMONG THE OCCUPATIONAL hazards of political life is the ability to develop a thick skin and take criticism in your stride. This is particularly so after social media became the chief platform of communication between the proverbial ordinary citizen and those in public life, replacing the admittedly imperfect system of chance personal contact.

Over the past 10 weeks or so, since the Great Lockdown began on March 25th, I have been confined to my home in Lutyens’ Delhi. I had originally planned to travel to Kolkata on March 27th, hoping to spend a fair amount of time there during the parliamentary recess. However, the 18-day lockdown caught me unawares and left me agreeably ‘stranded’ in Delhi, enjoying my books, my two dogs and, of course, home cooking. Thanks to Zoom, I have managed to be in constant touch with my political colleagues in West Bengal, addressed nearly a dozen e-meetings and even participated in a long-distance dharna. Yes, I have had more time to read than ever before but, on reflection, that has been due to the countless hours saved from avoiding traffic jams, lunch and dinner meetings and socialising—both purposefully and otherwise.

At the same time, especially in the aftermath of Cyclone Amphan that left more than 5,000 uprooted trees and long power cuts in Kolkata, there have been many snarky messages posted on social media—mainly by political opponents—suggesting that my absence from the hot spots of disease and devastation was akin to running away from the battlefield.

Admittedly, it has been easier to adhere to the stringent norms of social distancing and lockdown in Delhi. In Kolkata, the situation is different. While in theory there was a lockdown and many demarcated containment zones—including one just a few yards from my home—the reality was very different. The Bengalis, it seems, did whatever they pleased. In particular, they couldn’t desist from their two favourite pastimes—going to the bazaar each morning and meeting friends for tea and adda. Whether this affected the overall battle to prevent the spread of Covid-19 is for epidemiologists to assess but the fact is that a variant of the controversial Swedish model was in operation. My political colleagues may have worn masks and maintained a pretence of social distancing, but there was no such thing as a lockdown for them. My parliamentary colleagues went about their business—or certainly tried their utmost—to travel to different parts of their constituency, meeting people and even distributing food to those who were without rations. My friend Sukanta Mazumdar, the young MP from Balurghat in north Bengal even approached the High Court after he was stopped by the police. The judges ruled that as an elected representative, he had the right to be out and about and meeting his constituents. The verdict was seen as a slap in the face for a very partisan administration that allowed Trinamool Congress MPs and MLAs to go about the state freely while preventing BJP legislators from stepping out.

The judgment is interesting. In the UK, there is a minor political storm over a car journey from London to Durham made by Boris Johnson’s chief political adviser Dominic Cummings. Many people demanded his resignation because he violated the lockdown. Their argument was simple: politicians can’t impose a lockdown if they violate it themselves. In India, some newspapers got shirty when a Cabinet Minister flew from Delhi to Bengaluru on the first available commercial flight and then disregarded the 14-day quarantine norm for all incoming air passengers. Like Cummings, he too was accused of setting different norms for political functionaries.

The dilemma is very real. As a responsible lawmaker, it is my job to tell people to acknowledge the seriousness of the war against the deadly virus, endure inconvenience for a larger cause and adhere to the advice of the Government. In reality, however, there is an expectation from the people that political people must be physically present in the hotspots and shun all considerations of personal health. Maybe their expectations would have been modified if some political bigwig who is loath to stay at home tests positive and is shown to be a human carrier. This is what happened to a minister in West Bengal who retreated into home quarantine after he was apparently infected by a domestic help. Earlier, he had been accused of failing to fulfil his responsibilities in managing the post-Amphan devastation. Now he was charged with being irresponsible and infecting a large number of others, including the media, who came into contact with him.

The message is simple: either way, a politician can’t win. You want to do the right thing. But who will determine what is the right thing?

About The Author

Swapan Dasgupta

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