Imagining India

There was a very good reason for Rudolph Giuliani to run for the Republican Presidential nomination in 2008 – the formidable reputation in crisis management that the former New York mayor had gained after the 9/11 attacks struck the city. He was photographed at Ground Zero immediately after the planes mowed into the Twin Towers, and was a prominent presence on the airwaves in the days after. He came through as decisive and in complete charge of the city’s response to the terrorist attack; in fact, criticism later converged on whether his presence influenced decisions too much, rather than not enough. 

But in Mumbai after 26/11, all we received from our mayor was deafening silence.

The lack of comment or reaction was probably expected. I doubt many in Mumbai even know who the mayor of the city is – it’s a largely ceremonial post. There was no powerful official representing Mumbai’s city administration simply because the administration has no power to speak of. The responses in the immediate aftermath of the attacks – orders to the police and military, evacuation operations – flowed from the state and central governments. It was the state, central and defence officials who seemed to be in charge.  An entire tier of government at the local level appeared non-existent.

This had huge repercussions in the speed and efficiency with which Mumbai responded to the attacks. The city’s police were ill-equipped for any sort of rapid response. The NSG commandos who cleared the hotels had to be flown in from Delhi – and after their arrival in Mumbai, had to wait for hours to be transported from the airport. 

In a crisis, the city was thus left helpless, its institutions frozen in place. The power of city administrations has in fact, been deliberately hollowed out since independence, as state governments superseded city authority and co-opted its power. The decline of the Indian city took a decisive turn after the battle over Bombay in the 1950s, when states were being formed according to linguistic boundaries. Bombay presented a puzzle to the Indian government – while it lay in the heart of Maharashtra, it had Gujarati as well as Marathi residents, and vast numbers of other language communities. Nehru proposed at a point that Bombay become a separate, bilingual area, but the rioting and protests that ensued forced him to back down, and the city became an unequivocal part of Maharashtra. Since then, our cities have been passive and subordinate to the state governments. The bulk of city taxes are collected by the state and central governments and administration is dominated by state run agencies. And with local authorities powerless and unaccountable to citizens, city infrastructure has neared collapse.

The disadvantages of weak and ineffectual city governance become most stark in these times of disaster. The Mumbai floods in 2005 saw civilians far more present in rescue and rehabilitation operations than civic agencies. When calamity hits, the lack of local power and the authority to respond instantly, means that such events are far more catastrophic than they need to be. The twin challenges of climate change and terror are therefore only going to get exacerbated.

The Indian city has long been exiled from our collective imagination. The romance of the ‘village republic’ for India’s politicians and the strong association of the city with the British Imperial Raj doomed the city in Independent India. Gandhi said, ‘I regard the growth of cities as an evil thing’ and for Nehru the city of New Delhi was ‘un-Indian’. Cities were barely mentioned in the Indian Constitution, and were constitutional orphans for over four decades, passed over in favour of state and central government. It was only in 1992, that the Narasimha Rao government passed the 73rd and 74th amendments, which mandated more power to local bodies in cities and villages.  Even these amendments were meant to fulfil Rajiv Gandhi’s dream of the Panchayat Raj and village power  - city governments were an afterthought. 

But these changes, and the powers that the amendments offer, have largely remained on paper – states have been reluctant to cede powers of taxation and control over their cities. The possibility of competition from the grassroots has made state political parties wary of an ‘hour glass’ effect, of being squeezed in the middle between a strong centre and powerful cities. And no state Chief Minister wants to let go the money and patronage that comes from controlling urban land.  

But there is some pressure for change. In the years since independence, it was easy for Indian governments at both the state and the centre to dismiss urban India as somehow ‘inauthentic’, and not as legitimate or representative as the rural country. Even today the former CM of Karnataka HD Kumaraswamy justifies protests about Bangalore’s school children reaching home 5 hours late due to his party rally as the outpouring of an ‘effete’ IT/BPO crowd, and the BJP spokesperson Mukhtar Naqvi dismisses ‘women with lipstick’ as somehow not eligible to protest.  But as the spontaneous outpourings in our cities over the terror tragedy has shown, there is change in the air. As India’s urban population steadily grows they will demand more local empowerment. And the implementation of the Delimitation Commission’s recommendations will increase urban representatives in the state legislature reversed this marginalising of urban India. But these are small steps, and crises like the one we just witnessed shows how urgent empowering our city governments has become. 

We cannot keep our cities – the centres of our economic growth, innovation and where we are most able to move beyond our caste and our past – weakened and marginal in our politics. This imbalance has led to the decline we can see in every Indian city, the apathy made concrete in our crumbling roads, massive encroachments, and our chaotic, unplanned growth. Without local governments that answer directly to their citizens, urban India will face the threat of being mauled again when the next crisis hits.

I have never felt unsafe in an Indian city, including Mumbai, despite its traumatic past. It may have something to do with our democracy – as citizens, we feel despite such unrest, that we have a semblance of control over the systems that govern and protect us. But as I watched the live feed on Mumbai’s carnage on television, I considered how fragile this sense of control and security can be. And once citizens lose this collective faith that they have some power and that they are secure, the demand for change is resounding. 

The consequences of this were immediately clear – political calculations were fast-changing in the glare of the television cameras and in the hours of the standoff. Several states are up for elections, and most of the ads I witnessed as I recently travelled about the country centred on inflation or spiralling costs – one opposition ad was a cartoon that showed the state government playing the flute while the ‘snake of inflation’ rose and danced. I guess that after this week, these ads have lost a bit of their sting. The focus has turned dramatically to security. 

What does that mean for us? In the past seventy-two hours, we witnessed an event that has transformed the psyche of a nation. Since the bomb blasts that ripped through our cities and towns three months ago, there have been familiar remarks of how stoic our urban citizens are – echoes of comments Mumbaikars received after the train explosions in July 2006 and the bomb blasts in 1993. 

 Again, as the day waned and the situation began to stabilise, there were comments on our ability to move past disaster, and how people would simply pick up the pieces and go on with their lives. But this time around, these statements have a hollow feel – we have been struck so many times that one must eventually wonder if what we see in the aftermath is stoicism or helplessness.

Unfortunately though, the actions governments take during times of fear are often not ideal ones. Indian politicians have since the blasts in July, mostly debated bringing back draconian laws resembling the repealed Prevention of Terrorism Act and the Terrorist and Disruptive Activities (Prevention) Act. The BJP leader Venkaiah Naidu noted that ‘an extraordinary situation needs an extraordinary law,’ an opinion that the UPA government has come around to holding themselves. This recent attack will likely speed the passage of such a law.  

We’ve seen the impact such laws can have in the US and Britain, following the 9/11 attacks and the Iraq war. Massive powers of detention and interrogation that such laws allow cast the net too far and wide – what you end up with is a disproportionate amount of false positives and captured innocents, which muddies the efforts against terrorism. The record of POTA and TADA in India has been dismal – they have been used to target particular communities, and as tools for revenge. The violations of human rights that result are unacceptable. These laws become all the more dangerous when we consider the terrorists who led the recent bombings. These were not easily identifiable men. They looked like us— like any of the millions of young men in our cities, dressed in jeans and t-shirts, yuppie-like down to their hair-cuts and their glasses.  And such laws make democracies less so, and by hurting innocent civilians, serve as powerful recruiting tools for terrorists. 

There is no question that we face dangerous times, and our governments are going to react in ways that will demonstrate to the public, concrete action and strict enforcement.  Our impulses will be to strike back with force, and with hard, draconian measures. But our weaknesses unfortunately, lie not in the lack of a terrorism law, but within the core of our institutions – our police forces, the effectiveness of our intelligence agencies, the surveillance work we carry out. Since the 1970s, all these once reputable institutions have become deeply politicised, to the point that they have not been allowed to work without interference. Today, the frozen systems of our judiciary ensure that nearly half a million people are languishing in our jails without trials. Our cities are weak and ineffectual, unable to deal with any crisis. Unfortunately, given our talent for workarounds, these are issues that governments will shy away from. But without facing these challenges boldly, the prevention of terror attacks will be elusive, and we will continue to be vulnerable.

Calm – that emotion that seems so distant and unnecessary in such moments of crisis, will be critical to get us through this difficult time. The danger of thoughtless retaliation comes not just from our governments, but also from our citizens. Our country has large numbers of minority religious communities, and there will be enough demagogues eager to whip up anger against convenient targets. We can choose at this critical moment to let divides like religion dominate and frighten us, sidelining our real concerns, or we can adopt the reforms and policy ideas we need to win the battle against militants. Terrorism is fundamentally about igniting terror – about overwhelming us with fear. We have to resist this fear rather than be subjugated by it.