More departments to do the same work does not mean that there is greater focus on specific aspects; it generally means that coordination problems increase. As can be surmised, an arithmetical pattern of increased departments results in a geometrical increase in coordination issues, with consequent loss of time, hurdles to be vaulted; and for the client, 'deities to be propitiated'. Some time back in UP, there used to be a joke that the sports department (khel-kood department) was bifurcated into two, 'khel department' and the 'kood department'! The bureaucracy generally also does not oppose this too much, because more posts get created with new departments, and chances of promotion increase for all. This mindless expansion is extremely deleterious to good administration.
It is the prerogative of the prime minister to assign portfolios to the cabinet ministers. This has been the traditional practice. While doing so, the PM would take into account the qualities, abilities and proclivities of the members of his cabinet. However, in recent years, with the coalitions that have come into vogue for government formation, the PM's authority has progressively been curtailed. Thus, different elements in the various coalitions demand and get specific portfolios, as part of the bargain they strike while joining the coalition. Indeed, some time in 1998, there was the bizarre instance of a chief minister of a state announcing the names of two persons from his party, who would take over specified portfolios as ministers in the Centre; courtesy would have demanded that at least the announcement be made by the prime minister. This is yet another instance of the de facto change in the systems of management.
The Hon'ble Minister – master of all he surveys . . .
The minister, who under the Constitution generally has to be a member of either House, is the de jure and de facto head of each department or a ministry. The secretary to the department and the secretariat of the department function under the guidance and control of the minister. According to tradition, all matters of importance are brought to the attention of the minister by the secretary, for final orders as far as the department is concerned. The minister also takes responsibility for any action performed by the entire ministry. In this regard, the minister represents the political executive in the system.
The minister also is a member of the cabinet, whether at the Centre or the state, as the case may be. In the cabinet form of government, the prime minister who heads the cabinet is the senior-most or coordinating minister. For all decisions of government, there is the collective responsibility of the cabinet, which represents the political executive of the government concerned. Insofar as the minister is a member of the cabinet, he participates in collective decision making, both in respect of policy formulation and implementation decisions at the highest level.
It is a constitutional requirement that one cannot continue in the Council of Ministers for more than six months, without being a member of either House of Parliament. The inherent principle apparently is that the person concerned should represent a 'constituency' – a geographical area in the case of the lower House, or a state, in general, for the upper House. While there is no requirement that the member should have resided in the constituency he represents, the spirit of the Constitution could be interpreted to demand that the representative knows his area well, and has 'popular' roots there. One has seen many a member of either house who hardly knows his constituency; which, it can be argued, is repugnant to the spirit of the Constitution. Many ministers or MPs find 'safe' berths from states or constituencies totally unfamiliar to them; indeed they may not even speak the local language. To give only one example, the actor Govinda got elected from a particular constituency, and thereafter hardly showed his face there again for five years; and appeared to be peeved not to be nominated as a candidate from there next time around! In a similar vein, the current prime minister has been a Rajya Sabha member from Assam for many years – and has taken advantage of the wording of the Constitution not to stand for election for a Lok Sabha seat – while concurrently being named by the ruling partly to be the prime-ministerial candidate – this in a people's democracy! Is this what the Constitution intended? Indeed, by logical extension, why should we need the fig-leaf of membership to either House for a ministerial berth? Why can't this constitutional provision be done away with?
Ministers come in all shapes and sizes. The law of normal distribution applies naturally to the ministers as a class, at the Centre and the state. Taking the state governments first, indeed there could be some highly efficient, knowledgeable, honest and dedicated persons available to head a ministry – though one would need a microscope to find a person with these qualifications! If any state government would have even one or two with these attributes, that state indeed is lucky, though it is a moot question how long the person would survive. Any leadership in respect of the state's development would have to come from the chief minister, if indeed the state is lucky to have a suitable person qualified to do this. I have seen a number of ministers, who after joining their ministry would spend a month or so carefully studying the possibilities for exercising 'discretion', in the context of the ministry's work and to establish the appropriate 'machinery' to see that this can be done. When I once asked a revenue secretary in government of UP, who was a personal friend, as to what was the division of responsibility between him and the minister, the answer he gave would typify the current situation in most ministries – 'The minister looks after the important work of transfers and postings; I look after all the other unimportant work, including revenue policy!'
When I joined a Ministry of Commerce field assignment in late 1960s,* K.B. Lal was still commerce secretary. I was told of an important press briefing, following the announcement of the latest export-import policy, addressed by the Minister Dinesh Singh, accompanied by the Secretary K.B. Lal. When Dinesh Singh was beginning to reply to a question from a media person, the secretary leaned over and rudely snatched the mike from him, and in a stage whisper told him, 'Let me answer the question; it is too complicated for you'. Can one imagine such a scene today?
During the late '70s, when the first non-Congress government took charge in UP, most ministers were highly inexperienced. I recall that a new enthusiastic minister had told his secretary that he was keen to reform the municipal administration systems and wanted a note with specific proposals. The secretary took it seriously, prepared a ten-page note giving the background, discussing the pros and cons of various alternatives and coming up with a list of about fifteen action points sent it to the minister for his approval. Within three hours the file was back, with the minister's cryptic comment in Hindi, 'I disagree.' The crestfallen secretary took up the file to the minister, and remonstrated with him that he had worked very hard on the proposals, which could not be disposed off in such a cavalier manner. The minister expressed surprise at how upset the secretary was, told him that if he were so agitated he could change the orders, took the file back, took his pen and deleted the portion 'dis' from his orders, so that the revised orders read 'I agree'. The minister thought this would please the secretary. To the credit of the secretary, he promptly went to the chief secretary and asked for a transfer to another department, mentioning that he cannot work with such a minister with so little understanding and knowledge, and also who takes major decisions in the most casual manner! Alas, the quality of most ministers in states is not too different than that displayed in this true story. The only critical difference was that the ministers were not so gentle or compassionate towards the secretaries henceforth. More relevantly and importantly, their standards of probity declined precipitously. It should also be mentioned that here and there one can find the occasional minister who has understanding, who is savvy, and can lead the department with ease; though it is now a near-impossibility to locate one who is not on the take.
In the past, during Nehru's time and for a few years thereafter, the Cabinet Committee on Political Affairs (CCPA), chaired by the PM was a powerful body, and was the de facto manager of the system. Usually, the members of this committee were po
litical heavyweights, who brought the weight of the various regions to bear on national issues. Each member of the committee commanded the loyalties of a large number of MPs, each one was a political leader of national stature. Contrast this with the composition of the CCPA during the last two or three decades, most of the members being political feather-weights on their own; ministers like Buta Singh, Shivraj Patil, Pranab Mukherjee and such politicians, who were not even sure of their own individual seats, and had little backing from the politics of their own state, started yielding enormous powers, by becoming members of the CCPA. This really was reflected glory, the power derived purely from their proximity to the 'supreme' leader of the day, rather than any political strength. Politicians, like Karunanidhi, Jayalalitha, Mayawati, Mulayam Singh and the like, who carry some political stature rarely wanted to or were invited to join the CCPA – they were not invited since the supreme leader was uncomfortable dealing with another power-centre. They did not want to, since they already enjoyed enormous powers in their own state or region. Indeed this is another illustration of the system having become presidential in nature, in a surreptitious manner.
In the Central Government, there have been and continue to be at least three of four ministers at any time who are knowledgeable, who know the rules and procedures better than any bureaucrat. Some of them function like a super-secretary to the ministry, rather than as a minister bringing a political perspective to administrative issues. Usually, such ministers do not need any advice; they collect their senior officials, and issue specific directions on what to do on each minute detail, much like some CEOs of even large corporations. While their command of details and procedures appears quite impressive to the uninitiated, it is a moot question whether they bring anything additional to the decision-making process in the system – perhaps to the contrary, since they may well tend to kill all initiative.
Ministers are expected to take responsibility for failures of the ministry, just as they take credit for the successes of the whole team. The latter is much in vogue, justified or not, the former is nearly non-existent – perhaps no ministry has ever failed in any task! However, ministers are not as quick to take responsibility for palpable failures, even when they are directly responsible; not to speak of when they had no direct hand in the obvious failure. The old tradition was for the minister to take constructive responsibility. When Lal Bahadur Shastri was the railway minister in the '60s, he resigned after a major railway crash, taking responsibility. Sadly, his example has rarely been followed since. Even after the Mumbai terror strike of 2008, the then Home Minister Shivraj Patil did not even make a token offer to resign; he was, in effect, forced out. The contrast illustrates the fall in standards in the intervening decades.
FALL IN PROBITY STANDARDS – Licence to loot . . .
In the first two or three decades after Independence, the level of integrity among the politicians was much higher than we have seen in later decades. Indeed the best among the legislators were entrusted with the responsibility of ministership. Thus, in the cabinets of Nehru, even coming down to the period of Indira Gandhi, generally ministers were men of some integrity; many of them quite scholarly, well-versed in rules, and sufficiently experienced to be able to command the respect of the senior officialdom. For instance, Sardar Patel, the first home minister, was a commanding personality. Many feel that the path India took after Independence could have been even more fruitful, had history entrusted him with the responsibility of leading the country, and had he done so for a decade or so. However, there is no point crying over spilt milk. One can recall many others, the likes of Jagjivan Ram, C. Subramaniam, R. Venkataraman who controlled their ministries with knowledge, understanding, acumen, and panache – their contribution in setting the initial path to be followed in the country has been invaluable. Similarly, the states were lucky to have towering personalities as chief ministers – Gobind Ballabh Pant, Dr B.C. Roy, K. Kamaraj are among the many who spring to mind. It may be mentioned that Kamaraj was hardly literate; but he still had the understanding and acumen to have made a lasting mark both at the state and Centre levels.
Alas, as seen elsewhere, there has been a general decline in all standards, particularly in terms of the integrity levels as well as the ability of ministers from about the '70s. Many observers have linked this overall decline in standards to the time of Indira Gandhi's declaration of Emergency, and the decimation of 'institutions'. Indeed as one wag put it, what was started by the father was 'finished off ' by the daughter! Be that as it may, the reality is that standards in public life declined sharply from about that period – the overall quality of ministers, both at the Centre and at the states was no exception.
The principle of collective responsibility of the cabinet demands that all members take interest in all decisions, and the final decision taken is a collective one, even when the matter pertains to one particular department. This is the theory part; however, in practice, where the matter concerns only one department, no one in the rest of the cabinet usually takes it up for discussion or comment – the matter is entirely in the province of the minister concerned. Similarly, where the matter concerns two or three departments, so long as there is agreement between the ministers concerned, the other members do not raise any issues. While this is per se not a bad working principle, there is also undue room available to each minister to usher in changes to suit individual parties or groups, for a consideration, without any comment or opposition from his colleagues. Indeed, whenever such individual cases come up, it is cleared without comment, everyone recognising the benefit accruing to the minister, at the most with a nod or a wink. Naturally this courtesy is mutually reciprocal; every minister benefits through such an informal arrangement. While such a thing is going on, the other ministers look casually unconcerned, while indeed they are following the game with some interest.
This is akin in some ways to the goings-on in a golf course, when one member of the four-some is on the putting green, and focusing carefully on his own putt. The other members of the group, including the caddies, appear to look at the sky, or a passing scene, showing casual disinterest; while indeed they are carefully watching the putt from a corner of the eye. Now and then, during monsoon time, I see a pack of frisky dogs frolicking on the golf course, ten or twelve of them, chasing a female dog. At some stage, a male dog, a member of the pack, starts engaging with the female; at that point all the other dogs in the pack stand aside nearby, do not intervene, seem unconcerned and appear to be seeing something else, whereas actually they are following the scene with interest – presumably waiting for the moment when their turn would come!
It also needs to be mentioned that ministers usually locate staff officers or personal assistants to function as the conduit for the gratification that they demand in most instances. Most people in the business world, with minimal effort, could locate the dalals or the conduits, to transact business with the minister – this is a fairly well-known phenomenon in every state government; though this is done with greater delicacy and finesse in the Government of India.
The MLA as Chairman – the 'bottleneck' is always at the top of a bottle . . .
As if this was not enough, there are more politicians to be appeased, or to be made happy, or provided avenues for foraging. Thus, public sector corporations in practically every state in recent years have come to be headed by full-time chairmen from among legislators or ministers. The theory is that these are not 'offices of profit' – the chairman may be paid a token salary of Re1; in practice, however, these are converted to offices of huge profit. Usually, this full-time chairman is imposed on top of the regular corporate set-up, headed by a full- time managing director, and a board of directors to manage the company. The chairman, in general, has no special expertise in the area of work of the corporation, and is from the political class. The chairman's full-time job is to look for opportunities to extract whatever he can from those businessmen or citizens who have legitimate commercial contacts and other work with th
e corporation. After all processes are completed and the decision taken internally by the managing director on the merits of the matter – be it allotment of land, provision of raw material, clearance of a venture capital loan, or whatever – the file has to go through the chairman for his 'approval'. This is the final tribute to be paid by the unfortunate allottee or licensee, the client of the corporation, before his work is done. In general, the chairman would have his dalal following the progress of the application as the client threads through all its stages of processing, without intervening in the matter. At the final stage, when the file is ready for clearance, the client is given a clear hint, and if he is deaf or dense, he is told openly by the dalal that the final norm for clearance is payment in cash, at a 'prescribed rate'. If this payment is not forthcoming, that file will finally not see the light of day. Even in marginal cases where it is possible to exercise discretion in favour of the client, much the same procedure is followed; the client is advised at an appropriate stage that a certain 'tribute' be paid, to get the matter cleared – generally this works like magic.
In this sordid scenario, the managing director, who is a relatively senior bureaucrat, either is scrupulously clean and honest, processes the papers completely on merit, and then turns the other way on the formalities for finalisation of the transaction, muttering 'I do not want to know about it'. The other type of managing director participates actively in the process, cooperates with the minister wholeheartedly, deals with files with great dexterity and flexibility, and partakes of a small part of the final tribute. All concerned including the staff, in such a situation, are quite happy, the system functions very 'efficiently'. The third type of managing director, usually a relatively young IAS officer, who is unused to 'realities', makes a big fuss and protests vehemently when pressure is applied on him to clear dubious cases or when a legitimate case does not get approval. Such officers generally are found 'unfit' to hold higher responsibilities, or dubbed as 'unable to get on'. Some lucky ones just get away quickly, or are shown the door to reach an innocuous position in the administration elsewhere; the unlucky one gets an 'adverse remark' from the chairman, which could have, indeed is likely to have, an effect on his promotion to the next level; and which in the long run could work against him even twenty years later when he is considered for very senior positions. Is it any wonder that as the above practice evolved over time, officials now generally walk on edge, develop a 'faraway look', and get addicted to a life of allowing files to bypass them – their main interest is to look after their offspring, or solve the daily kakuro puzzle fully; and the irony is, the public keep asking, 'why is he not fighting?', or why do bureaucrats give up too easily? It should also be added that some times the chief minister wants to keep a close eye on the politician nominated as chairman of the corporation. He then, in consultation with the chief secretary, picks a person who may not be totally subservient to the chairman, and would not allow him to have a free line on claiming the loot. There are many variants to the games that politicians play, and in general, Gresham's law applies – 'The bad drives out the good'!
Goverment In India Page 4
