by Sanjaya Baru
But none of this happened. Dr Singh was left to his own devices and he made sure he had his way. He cajoled the nuclear establishment into falling in line. He pushed Narayanan to seal the deal. He ignored the doubters in the external affairs ministry and empowered the believers. He convinced President Bush that backing the deal, at home and abroad, was in America’s interest too. He went to Trombay and addressed scientists. He went to Washington DC and addressed Congress. He reached out to China and Pakistan, softening their resistance. He spoke repeatedly in Parliament, at length and emphatically, and courted public opinion.
In standing firm in the face of Sonia’s wavering commitment to the deal, Dr Singh underscored his own political relevance. Faced with the threat of his resignation, Sonia chose to support him rather than change the prime minister, as his critics in the party and the Left Front assumed she would. There was no one else in the party who had his qualities of competence and compliance. She was certainly not prepared to name Pranab Mukherjee as prime minister or even as deputy prime minister.
Finally, Manmohan Singh exhibited political skills that no one thought he had. He befriended the likes of Amar Singh and Mulayam Singh Yadav to bolster the UPA government after the Left withdrew support. His act of self-assertion against an ideologically motivated cabal dictating foreign policy to the government paid off. His reputation soared. The urban middle class that had deserted the Congress and voted for Atal Bihari Vajpayee in 1999 and 2004 returned to its fold in 2009.
With that electoral victory, he had now made a different kind of history, becoming the first prime minister after Jawaharlal Nehru to have returned to office after a full five-year term and with an improved majority to boot. Nehru managed that only in 1957, not in 1962. Dr Singh did not contest Lok Sabha elections in 2009 but became the indisputable candidate to head the new government. No one, not even Sonia, could deny him the prime ministership. In democratic politics, electoral victory is the ultimate test of performance and the prize every politician cherishes. Dr Singh believed he had delivered on that score in the summer of 2009 and that is why he exuded the confidence he did, on that day. But then, he made the cardinal mistake of imagining the victory was his.
Reflecting later on the conversation during which he asked me to return from Singapore and rejoin the PMO as his adviser, I felt that rather than thinking of me as his P.N. Dhar, he had been imagining himself to be the victorious Indira of 1971. This time round, he may have convinced himself, his performance and destiny had made him PM. Not Sonia.
Bit by bit, in the space of a few weeks, he was defanged. He thought he could induct the ministers he wanted into his team. Sonia nipped that hope in the bud by offering the finance portfolio to Pranab, without even consulting him. The PM had been toying with the idea of appointing his principal economic adviser C. Rangarajan, the comrade with whom he had battled the balance of payments crisis of 1991-92. He tried to put his foot down on the induction of A. Raja of the DMK (though the 2G scam became public knowledge only in 2010, he may well have known of Raja’s role in it ), but after asserting himself for a full twenty-four hours, caved in to pressure from both his own party and the DMK.
Then Sharm el-Sheikh happened. The BJP, nursing electoral wounds, used the opportunity provided by a controversial joint statement by the Indian and Pakistani prime ministers to tear into Dr Singh. That was to be expected. But surprisingly, even shockingly, the Congress criticized its own head of government, refusing to back him even after he had defended himself in Parliament.
Dismayed, he chose to surrender. When he told me he could not take me back into the PMO because he had come to accept that there could not be two centres of power, the subtext was that my return would signal his desire to project himself as PM. He chose to yield space. This was not the Manmohan Singh of the nuclear deal or the victorious PM of the summer of 2009. I was struck later by how much the monsoon months had dampened his spirit.
Dr Singh never really recovered from that initial deflation of his authority and it came to affect multiple areas of governance. Even though the economy performed well in the early part of UPA-2, by 2011 it was showing signs of a slowdown combined with inflation and rising deficits. Having yielded space to Pranab in North Block, Dr Singh had little control over fiscal policy. His chosen domain, foreign policy, had little joy to offer him in UPA-2. With Barack Obama in Washington DC, the bonhomie of the Bush years was gone. Not only was Obama preoccupied with his own domestic economic problems, but America’s dependence on China to help it deal with the global economic crisis increased Beijing’s leverage and reduced New Delhi’s salience. Moreover, Obama and his secretary of state Hillary Clinton had not voted in favour of the nuclear deal. Obama’s decision to withdraw from Afghanistan increased Pakistan’s importance for the Pentagon and, thus, negatively impacted the US approach to India and South Asia.
Matters were made worse by UPA-2’s incompetent handling of the civil nuclear liability bill. In its original draft, the bill would have enabled India to resume nuclear energy commerce with supplier nations and help Indian nuclear power companies enter the global market. However, inept political handling resulted in the BJP joining hands with the Left to demand changes to the government draft. These changes did not satisfy international suppliers, nor indeed India’s own companies. Dr Singh’s crowning achievement of UPA-1, the nuclear deal, lay in tatters. Yet he soldiered on as a loyal member of his party.
Waning India-US relations inevitably affected the postures of regional players. China became assertive, risking a border confrontation with India after years. The military regime in Pakistan disowned the Musharraf-Manmohan formula on Kashmir and the prime minister never managed to travel to Pakistan, even to visit his place of birth at Gah. The only silver lining to this dark cloud was the new relationship with Japan.
Things were even worse on the home front. When charges of corruption were levelled against his Cabinet colleagues, Dr Singh could not put up a convincing defence of his own role in decision-making. In UPA-1, the Opposition had tried to sully his reputation for integrity, but with no success. In UPA-2, it managed to make a dent and stabbed away until there was a bleeding wound.
In UPA-1, Sonia and the Congress party did not really have a Plan B; Rahul was not fit to become prime minister and Sonia did not trust anyone else apart from Dr Singh. In UPA-2, a Plan B began to emerge as Rahul started getting ready to take charge. The poor showing of the Congress in the Uttar Pradesh and Bihar assembly elections prevented him from rising fast enough. But that did not deter his supporters and Dr Singh’s critics from constantly calling for a change of leadership. I wondered, as many in the country did, how the relationship of trust that I had witnessed between Sonia Gandhi and Manmohan Singh during UPA-1 had weathered these strains in UPA-2.
Speculation was rife that all was not well. When a family friend of Rahul, working as an analyst with a foreign consulting firm, put out a paper suggesting that Dr Singh had become a liability for the government the Delhi durbar was agog with speculation. Was this a message from the family itself? After a series of other humiliations many wondered why Dr Singh was not calling it a day. Was it the case that Dr Singh was adamant about completing his tenure, which he did believe was something he had earned through hard work? For his part, Dr Singh let it be known to anyone who asked him that he was ready to go, if asked to. So, was he insisting that he be dismissed, or just giving Sonia time to help her prepare Rahul for the transition? Was he overstaying her invitation or holding the fort? No convincing answers were available but the political and media speculation that went on weakened his authority further and damaged his reputation.
In UPA-1, the media came to view Dr Singh as the man who could throw his resignation letter on the table and leave. In UPA-2, the same media came to see him as clinging on to power in the face of humiliation. In UPA-1, Dr Singh was willing to secure and defend some policy space for himself. In UPA-2, he seemed to surrender to his own party leader and the allies. In UPA-2, as at tim
es in UPA-1, Dr Singh sought an alibi in ‘coalition compulsions’ but this time the media and the public were unwilling to buy that. Many came to believe that in not asserting the authority inherent in his office he had devalued it. He had failed to live up to the trust that voters had reposed in him, personally, when they had re-elected the UPA.
The compromises Dr Singh had made in UPA-1 were less visible to the public. Critically, they did not involve charges of corruption and did not occur against the backdrop of economic gloom. Moreover, the stand he took on the nuclear deal erased any memory of his submissiveness to Sonia in the public imagination. In the end, Singh was King. In UPA-2, his long public silences, his reduced visibility, the corruption exposes, the ‘policy paralysis’, as the media dubbed it, and, above all, his willingness to be pushed around by his party and coalition partners, and, as it turned out later, to have his decisions publicly challenged by Rahul Gandhi, irretrievably damaged his image.
Returning from a successful visit to China in October 2013, Dr Singh said he would now leave it to history to judge his record in office. He invoked the judgement of history once again at his last national press conference on 3 January 2014, saying:
I honestly believe that history will be kinder to me than the contemporary media, or for that matter, the Opposition parties in Parliament. I cannot divulge all things that take place in the Cabinet system of government. I think, taking into account the circumstances, and the compulsions of a coalition polity, I have done as best as I could under the circumstances.
Historians will undoubtedly note that in UPA-1 the economy logged the highest rates of growth for any plan period since Independence, generating revenues that the government could deploy in rural development, infrastructure, education and defence. India’s global profile was better than ever before and India had finally been recognized as a nuclear weapons power. To top it all, the incumbent prime minister won an impressive election victory and secured a second term in office. But, historians will also record that UPA-2 was a tale of missed opportunities, of weak and unfocused leadership, and a confused foreign policy.
In UPA-1, Dr Singh proved to the people of India and to his own party that he was fit to be prime minister and historians will surely laud him for performing that feat despite a circumscribed role. The next elections will show whether UPA-2 can convince public opinion that it has been worthy of the mandate given to it. If it fails to do so, it remains to be seen whether history will be generous enough to accept Dr Singh’s stoic detachment from the moral failures of UPA-2 and allow him to be remembered mainly by his achievements in UPA-1.
It was against the backdrop of his declining external and domestic performance and profile that Pranab Mukherjee made that remark to me in 2011, that the image of the government and the country is inextricably linked to the image of the prime minister. He was right. With the emasculating of the prime minister, not just Manmohan Singh himself, but his government and, ultimately, the country, became the losers.
In October 2010, Shobhana Bhartia invited Dr Singh to address the annual Hindustan Times Summit, as she had done every year since 2004. However, this time there was no reply from the PMO. She called me and asked if I thought the PM was shying away from a media event because of the controversy surrounding the telecom licences issue, popularly called the 2G scam. Would he feel reassured if he were told that I would chair the session, she asked. I was amused and said I had no objection to chairing the session even though this was a Hindustan Times event and I was the editor of another newspaper. A couple of days later she called to say that Dr Singh had accepted her invitation and that she did tell him I would chair the session.
I then called Indu Chaturvedi at 7 RCR and told him that in case someone were to ask the PM a question on the 2G issue I would have to allow it. I was now back in the media and could not behave like a media adviser and protect him from public questioning. Indu clarified that the PM was prepared to reply to all questions and would also read out a written statement.
On the appointed day, Shobhana and I received Dr Singh at Taj Palace Hotel and walked him to the dais. While Shobhana was welcoming the audience, Dr Singh turned to me, smiled and asked, ‘Am I in trouble?’ He asked me to come and see him the next day.
The expected question on 2G licences was asked. Dr Singh had a prepared reply and read from a typed sheet:
As far as allocation of 2G spectrum is concerned, Parliament is in session. I would not like, therefore, to make any detailed statement. But there should not be any doubt in anybody’s mind that if any wrong thing has been done by anybody, he or she will be brought to book. For all this to happen, in a democracy, we have to allow Parliament to function. We are ready to discuss all issues in Parliament. We are not afraid of a discussion.
I went across to 7 RCR the next day.
Inevitably, we discussed 2G. My advice to him was that he should defend the policy itself and have the charges against Raja investigated. The Comptroller and Auditor General (CAG) of India, it could be credibly argued, was taking an ‘accountant’s’ view on policy. Several analysts had already said so and that was also the editorial line I had taken at Business Standard. The government’s policy had enabled it to offer cheaper telecom services and made it possible for millions of Indians to become connected. The economic and social benefits of the policy far outweighed the revenue loss to the exchequer, which the CAG had focused on.
However, if some firms had been unduly favoured, those responsible should be punished. Why should he defend his corrupt ministers, I asked. He was not responsible for their corruption, since they had been foisted on him; he was responsible for formulating government policy. The policy itself was not flawed, even if some in government had disagreed with it. He shared my views that day. However, the government persisted with its ill-advised ‘zero loss’ argument (that the deal had caused no revenue loss to the exchequer), revealing how little control the prime minister had over the political narrative.
The telecom issue came on the back of public criticism of the government’s handling of the 2010 Commonwealth Games. The games fiasco was waiting to happen. The first minister for sports in UPA-1, the late Sunil Dutt, could never focus on the essentials and much time was wasted in turf battles between his ministry and the Indian Olympic Association headed by Suresh Kalmadi. Dr Singh would come away exasperated from those meetings. Dutt’s successor, Mani Shankar Aiyar, was openly opposed to hosting the games and wanted India to withdraw its invitation. Dr Singh, who was never too happy with Dutt’s stewardship, disagreed with Aiyar’s cavalier approach, but did little to either take charge or place a competent person in charge. At one point, he tried to get Rahul Gandhi interested, suggesting to him that just as his father, Rajiv, had acquired both administrative experience and a reputation for good organization when he took charge of the 1982 Asian Games, the younger Gandhi could also make good use of this opportunity. Rahul showed no interest. Five years of UPA-1 were largely wasted and work on the October 2010 games began in right earnest only in mid-2009.
While the new sports minister M.S. Gill and the efficient new secretary Sindhushree Khullar worked hard to stage the games, the media’s negative perception about the games’ organization and charges of corruption levelled against Kalmadi and Delhi chief minister Sheila Dikshit damaged the government’s reputation. It had become all too obvious that the games were being threatened by poor organization and weak coordination between different agencies. The PMO stepped in and decided to take charge. But it was too late. While the games went off well, the damage to the government’s image was severe and became etched on the public mind. UPA-2 was beginning to be seen as bumbling and corrupt.
The scandal relating to the allocation of coal blocks during the period when Dr Singh handled the coal portfolio further tarnished the prime minister’s image. Here too, he was charged, not with corruption, but with turning a blind eye to the corruption of others. Public opinion was no longer willing to excuse him for choosing not to claim and e
xercise the authority that was his due as prime minister.
Watching this debacle unfold, I was convinced, even more than before, that the prime minister’s decision not to return to office via the Lok Sabha was his biggest political mistake. The political authority and legitimacy that a second term in office offers a head of government was denied to him by his remaining a member of the Upper House and not securing for himself the imprimatur of a popular mandate.
He could easily have said to Sonia that he would prefer to retire as PM than to once again return to the job from the Rajya Sabha. If she had refused him a safe Lok Sabha seat he could have gone into retirement on health grounds. He would not only have been hailed for being the first PM to voluntarily retire but he may well have become a global statesman, invited to chair UN commissions and lecture around the world, like so many distinguished former heads of government. If, on the other hand, he had returned to the job from the Lok Sabha he would have had a much better chance of asserting his authority and running his government his way.
Initially, I saw his subservience as an aspect of his shy and self-effacing personality, but over time I felt, like many, that this might be his strategy for political survival. Was it just unquestioned loyalty to the leader or a survival instinct that prompted him to remain silent? Whatever the motive, his image took a fatal blow. One consequence of this was the demand that the PM and his office be brought under the purview of Lok Pal, the anti-corruption ombudsman, whose creation became a cause célebre for civil society activists. Several prime ministers had successfully resisted this demand over the years, citing national interest and political stability. Dr Singh succumbed.
