The Seven Deadly Sins of Democracy

A THOUGHT: Why did the High Priests of the Great Moralist in the Sky limit the number of deadly sins to seven? Why not eight or twelve? Did they underestimate the malfeasance of human nature after Adam and Eve had their little conversation with Satan about the tree of knowledge? Was that knowledge about desire, and in particular the desire to know about one’s future?

In every election the past is on trial, and the future is at stake. No surprise then that that epic combination of fear of the future and the desire for power weakens the rules and heightens the passions.

It might surprise you to discover that murder is not on the list of the seven classical deadly sins. They are deadly because they are suicidal rather than homicidal: pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony, sloth. The casual­ties of democracy perish from self-inflicted wounds. If you want to blame anyone for defeat in an election the best place to look is in the mirror.

The biggest danger is from sloth, or complacency. Democracy punishes those who take it for granted. It is equally harsh on pride, deflating hubris or pompous aspiration with remarkable consistency. Every General Election throws up evidence of amateurish MPs and candidates who believe that they are winning because of some wondrous trait in their character or intellect. The wise understand that there is a tide in the affairs of men which when taken at the flood might lead on to fortune, as Shakespeare would certainly have remarked if assigned to cover the Indian General Election by the genial editor of Open.

When this tide flows with a particular political party, the punters sail home. Upstarts who believe that they have navigated the way to triumph are soon stranded.

Citizens set the course. They are not stupid or unreal. They understand ego; after all who would venture into the swamp of elections without the adrenalin of ego? But when candidates, of any party, begin to believe that their glory is more important than the voter’s needs, people know how to respond. The 2024 General Election is only two phases old, with another five to traverse, but examples are in. One candidate (who shall remain nameless since this is a story about a syndrome) sent out a rather pathetic mes­sage on polling day. He claimed 80 per cent support, except that his voters were sitting at home while the hostile 20 per cent were flooding the booths. It never occurred to him that his attitude might have caused voter alienation. Or that party colleagues in adjoin­ing constituencies had no such problems. There will always be those who snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.

They are quickly reminded of what should never be forgotten. Indian voters constitute the most intelligent, diligent and silent electorate in the dramatic history of democracy. No other voter in the world has exercised as much effective power, or wrought as much startling change as the Indian.

Activists need stamina. All elections in democracies are now suffering from overstretch. In America the long election is institu­tionalised in the process. The British these days merely love prolonging the agony. In France they are in permanent election mode. European nations, many with molecular rules, float in uncertainty. In fact, uncertainty is the pulse of democracy. Opinion polls are interesting because their inflection changes each time they read the mood. Every candidate in India knows that the mist be­gins to disappear only when the sun rises on the electoral trail.

The most amazing fact of our General Election is the awesome silence of the voter. A politician or a journalist is more likely to get a smile than information. This magnificent silence has shrouded every single election result in the last half-century, from the shock opposition upsurge in 1967, to Indira Gandhi’s spectacular mandate in 1971, her miraculous defeat in 1977, or indeed the scale of her return in 1980.

Indian voters enjoy the silence. This is their private space. They protect it. The consequent barometer of uncertainty is reflected in media coverage, where today’s forecast becomes tomorrow’s laugh. The first day of polling in this election generated a sudden flurry of questions when voting percent­ages dropped. Was this apathy towards government? Then reality check began to creep in. No one quite knew whose vote had disappeared.

Take Wayanad, the most high-profile constituency in the south. When Rahul Gandhi abandoned Amethi in 2019 this is where he found refuge, in a Muslim League-dominated sanctu­ary in Kerala. There was visible excitement in the local electorate. The turnout in 2019 was a huge 80.33 per cent; Rahul Gandhi’s margin of victory over 400,000. This time? The turnout dropped by 7 per cent to 73.48 per cent. Had the Muslim League’s enthusiasm evaporated after Congress tried to screen its alliance by prohibiting the display of League flags in its rallies? In 2019, communists were sympathetic to Rahul Gandhi and their nominee in Wayanad put up token resistance. This time their candidate is Annie Raja, wife of Com­munist Party of India (CPI) chief D Raja. This means that the Left vote must have polled in higher numbers. Whose vote polled in lower numbers? We will know on June 4. And if this is what transpires in Wayanad, it will be equally true of all constituen­cies across the innumerable corners of our country. Of course, the butterflies that roost in every politician’s stomach at election time will cause indigestion, but that comes with the menu.

Some things we know, because political parties have told us. In Kerala the Left Democratic Front (LDF) has been work­ing hard to take seats back from Congress. What is already visible is that the Left vote will rise. Congress leaders are so worried that they have accused Marxists of being in collusion with the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), a high crime in their law­book. But from an objective perch this is rational. Marxists have been anni­hilated in Bengal, with little chance of recovery in this election. They are not going to surrender their only remain­ing bastion without a struggle.

My suggestion to election watch­ers is to whip out their mobile phones and take pictures of the male and female queues outside the booths. If the figures are broadly even, then Prime Minister Narendra Modi has an advantage since his percentage of sup­port among women is higher. Extend that rule to its variables, and a picture will become clearer; where women vote in higher numbers the advantage will be greater. Women remain Prime Minister Modi’s most ardent loyalists for the most sensible of reasons: food in their kitchen, homes which they can own, medicine for their family, the reduction of poverty. Women are the decisive factor of the 2024 General Election.

The reviving warhorse of Andhra Pradesh, N Chandrababu Naidu, knows this, not least because four decades ago his father-in-law NT Rama Rao identified the woman as his catalyst of change in stagnant Andhra Pradesh. Andhra has elections for the Assembly along with the Lok Sabha. In the free market of freebies Naidu has announced free bus rides for women; three gas cylinders for every household; an annual ₹20,000 scholar­ship for every schoolchild; and a subsidy of ₹20,000 for farmers. You can gauge the impact from the rattle among opponents. His bête noire YS Jagan Mohan Reddy dismisses these gratu­ities as illusory. Where will the money come from? Easy to answer. Exactly from where Jagan Reddy got the money for his schemes. The state exchequer.

This is what the future is going to look like as India takes a lockstep approach to economic empowerment. This is the exchange rate of elections. The only way to prevent the state from descending into economic chaos is to ensure a growth rate that can finance the growing and, indeed, necessary sense of entitle­ment in aspiring and marginalised communities. Economic em­powerment is their fundamental right. Conversely, if economic growth drips, there will be a humongous crisis. There will be violence on the streets. If instability or indeed any other reason leads to disruption in economic growth, there will be mass dem­onstrations of the kind we have not seen in decades by 2026.

Congress solutions like inheritance tax are an answer from the 1950s for the problems of the 2020s. Property is no longer the exclusive privilege of the class which is fixated on theory. There has been spread in the ownership of property. It is no longer the mainstay asset of the rich. The poor in India want independent homes, and they have been getting them. Check the statistics. Discover the appeal of home-ownership schemes in the last 10 years. The poor do not want to discover that their first-generation assets will be reduced to half by taxes on their death.

Property in the form of a sustain­able home is a principal demand of the poorest of the poor. If democracy does not mean food and shelter then what else does it mean for the poor? These are essentials of a civilised society, which government must meet as a pri­mary, constitutional duty. Whoever sold the idea of an inheritance tax to the Congress leadership has not been introduced to 21st-century India. The rich can still afford to shrug off inheri­tance tax as just another punishment; they have enough surplus. The rising classes will fight any such statute with the passion of first-generation empowerment.

IT MIGHT SEEM a trifle fanciful to find a metaphor for de­mocracy in the annals of 18th-century anecdotage, but the re­lationship between the citizen and power is the fulcrum that keeps society stable. Democracy is its most creative, most just, most productive manifestation. So here goes a tale from the age of Rajas, particularly since a descendant of the Maharaja of Nadia Krishnachandra Roy (born 1710; ruled 1728-1783, educated in Sanskrit and Persian, remembered as the man who initiated the famous Jagadhatri puja in Chandannagar) is contesting in a General Election being held three centuries after his birth.

The Maharaja’s court jester Gopal Bhar is as famous as his liege, for good reason. One night Gopal Bhar got drunk at a feast held to celebrate the birth of an heir, and went to sleep on the palace premises. The next morning the Maharaja saw him on his walk and they exchanged greetings. Later that morning, for the first time ever, the barber’s hand slipped while shaving the Maharaja, causing a nick. The king was furious. He ordered the barber’s head to be cut off. The trembling barber replied that it was not his fault; the blame lay in the first face that the king had seen that day, for that face had brought misfortune. That was the face of Gopal Bhar. The king ordered that Gopal Bhar’s head be chopped. A woeful Bhar pleaded for a chance to make his case. Bhar said: “The first face that Your Majesty has seen has resulted in a nick on your neck. But the first face I saw this morning was yours and I have lost my head. Tell me, Sire, whose face is more cursed?”

The wise king understood. Gopal Bhar lived on.

It takes two to tango in a democracy.

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