Showing posts with label revolution. Show all posts
Showing posts with label revolution. Show all posts

Monday, April 23, 2012

Two Cheers For Corruption?

What is Corruption? 
Corruption, I was once taught, is the the use of public office for private gain. It is allegedly illegal and immoral, besides being harmful to a nation's economy. But why, I've always asked, does it persist in most of the world for most of human civilization?

The most common answer is that corruption is akin to theft, and the reasons for corruption ultimately boil down to selfishness, greed and a host of other human vices. But if this tragic account of human nature holds any validity, we are all corrupt (or potentially corrupt), though lacking in the same opportunities to indulge in it. This line of reasoning may even cause some of us to pity ourselves: if only we had more opportunities to be corrupt, our natural vices would take care of the rest...

But this moral argument explains too much as well as too little. If everyone is equally corrupt in theory, nothing remains to be explained. In that case, cause and effect coincide: people are corrupt because they are innately so. This is a non-explanation.  Clearly, we must look for answers elsewhere.

An Alternative Hypothesis
Let me propose an hypothesis that runs counter to conventional wisdom: private gain is one of the chief purposes of holding public office. Shocked? I expect readers to be so. We are all so used to thinking about public office in the exalted terms of civics textbooks that we typically fail to understand that the "state" is not a mythical sea-monster, Leviathan. The state, instead, ought to be better understood as the sum of power relationships in society that are deemed legitimate in the eyes of the law. To the extent that a nation's laws buttress patriarchal authority within a family, the monarch-like rule of the father-husband is as much a part of the constitutional order of things as legislatures or courts. For our purposes, therefore, the classical liberal distinction between the public and private realms needs to be put aside.

Defining the state in this manner avoids reducing corruption to a simple matter of individual virtue and vice. We now see the state as embedded in society with its messy power equations ready to upset any technocrat's grand institutional designs. For no one is above board entirely, except, as the ancient Greeks and Romans believed, the mythical lawgiver in a society. The everyday reality of society is, then, a series of overlapping struggles for wealth, honor, and virtue. It is not only about the rich fighting the poor, but also rich women positioning themselves above their poorer counterparts. Insofar as the state endows laws and policies with an official sanctity, the overlapping struggles in a given moment influence the distribution of power and resources in the future. Victory in one sphere of struggle may be reinforced in others just as easily as they might be undercut in others. Public office is thus nothing more than a means to a pre-determined end.

However, the distribution of power in society varies across time and place. In pluralistic or "polyarchic" societies, the same elites do not win every battle. Instead, power is distributed widely across multiple nodes in society. Capturing power in one sphere of the state does not imply that the winner takes all. Winning the battle for gay rights does not necessarily mean you will also be able to raise taxes on the rich. The use of public office for private gain is rampant in such societies as are accusations of the same. Absolutely no one is above suspicion.  In "monoarchic" societies, however, this is not the case. Oligopolistic interests concentrate power in closed circles, and social policies and laws reflect these interests. Public interest ends up being defined by the ruling oligarchs of the day, and the few individual deviations from this definition of public interest is denounced vociferously and even criminalized.

The Curious Modernity of Corruption
Now, corruption is an interesting term. It simultaneously functions as a modern economic term as well as a term of moral opprobrium. The modernity of corruption is not unsurprising. Its origins lie in the rise of Protestantism in Europe, which saw, among its principal tasks, a vigorous attack on the corruption of the Catholic Church. In western Europe, the triumph of Protestantism is inseparable from the triumph of capitalism over the medieval church, the aristocracy, and the peasantry. Whether in Germany, the Low Countries or in England, the modern attack on corruption accompanied the ultimate victory of the bourgeoisie on the Continent. With imperialism, the Protestant ethic at the heart of capitalism came to assume a global form. On this view of global society, heathens in Asia, Africa, and the Americas were corrupt and depraved creatures in need of salvation. The Bible held the key to salvation as much as markets and the modern state did. Corruption was backward, pre-modern, medieval. Salvation lay in the modern doctrine of progress.

We may not be all Keynesians now, but we are possibly all Protestant capitalists now. Economics is the study of capitalist markets today. Political science concerns "governance" of these markets. Anthropology studies the primitive Other, whether in Papua New Guinea and Nebraska or in car factories in Detroit and Gurgaon. Philosophy is the logical apparatus that binds together the modern bourgeois disciplines. Taking a step back from the indoctrination that lies at the heart of the modern civilizing mission, we can appreciate how Euroamerican modernity, based on the triumph of the Protestant bourgeoisie over the old feudal order, involves a decisive shift towards the rule of a single class. Knowledge and the state reflect this concentration of power in the hands of the few.

Champions of Euroamerican modernity, however, exist in the non-West too. In societies as different as India and Egypt, the last eighteen months have seen strong movements led by the urban bourgeoisie to take over partial welfarist regimes and remake them in their own image. To label these movements "popular" and "national" uprisings is very much part of the game. Paid news and intellectuals have filled out newspapers and magazines with their rants against the corruption of the state. What we need is efficiency and transparency, they say, but what they do not say is that they want to redefine public interest vis-a-vis their own private interests. For this noble cause, it is not at all puzzling that new-age religious leaders and foreign-funded social entrepreneurs have joined hands. Neither is it puzzling that the proudly apolitical youth of Gurgaon and Cairo   have discovered the pleasures of collective effervescence in virtual worlds.

Monoarchy versus Polyarchy
Corruption, our new-age reformers tell us, is rife at the lower levels of the state, especially in the countryside.   By this, we must understand that the urban bourgeoisie in these postcolonial societies have little control over rural power dynamics. Particular ill-will has been directed in India, for example, against elected politicians in the government. They are not just corrupt, but criminals too. Instead of seeing these politicians as simply conduits or brokers in a larger con-game, they are being presented before us as the ringleaders. Of course, this is only to be expected when leading corporate houses fund the anti-corruption crusaders and award paid leave to their employees to facilitate protests. Tellingly, the corporate crusaders have offered an extra-constitutional solution in which they and those they handpick will have the power to override all elected and non-elected officialdom in the land. This is the ultimate prize: complete control of the state by a class in the ascendancy. Monoarchy, in short.

Needless to say, these designs have not been successful until date. Ultimately, their lack of success boils down to a single reason: the competition between the urban bourgeoisie and other sections of society in the domain of the state. In India, for instance, the upper-caste bourgeoisie are not so preponderant as to obliterate powerful rural and anti-capitalist interests. Multiple competing political interests acting in the name of "the people" and accusing each other of the worst possible crimes, thus remains the norm. Corruption is thriving, as it rightly should, in a polyarchic society in which the state becomes the site of myriad struggles for power and justice alike. The nature of modernity in these polyarchic societies refuses to be a mere replica of Euroamerican originals. Nor does a CCP-like party emerge to produce a prostrate public to do its bidding. The shift to a monoarchic social order remains a distant dream for our bourgeois reformers in the postcolony.

The battle is far from over yet. I fully expect the urban bourgeoisie to try harder next time, and co-opt a few farmers, barbers, and cooks to display their "democratic" commitments. I also expect them to work within the government to award bailouts to wealthy individuals and corporations rather than reserve them for "wasteful" social expenditures. Nonetheless, I am quite hopeful for the future. While capitalist interests may grow stronger, their social rivals are likely to match them blow for blow. Above all, one may repose faith in our common apathy and cynicism towards those who seek to reform us. What for, we ask, and how much is it worth to you? We can still see and point to the Emperor's nakedness in ways that our peers in the West have long lost. Two cheers for corruption, then? 

Monday, December 6, 2010

Surjya Sen in 2010

This weekend, I watched Bollywood's tribute to Surjya Sen, teacher and revolutionary leader in eastern Bengal during the 1920s. Khelein Hum Jee Jaan Se notes at the start that it is "a true story." By this, the viewer is expected to know that Surjya Sen was indeed a local schoolteacher in Chandanpura who was revered as Master-da; that he organized a revolutionary youth group in his locality; that he and his young followers entered the annals of Indian history with the Chittagong Armoury Raid on April 18, 1930; that he and his comrades were eventually caught by the British in the Jalalabad Hills and then sentenced to death or life imprisonment.

But why are we being told about Surjya Sen today? If we must pick some Bengali revolutionary leader outside the mainstream Congress ranks, then why not go for, say, Khudiram Bose or any of the followers of Anushilan? After all, Anushilan and Bose resonate more to Bengali Hindus today than Surjya Sen in distant Chittagong. But this is as much a film about Chandanpura as Lagaan was about Champaner. It's an all-India film in which geography and language are necessarily subordinated to the meta-narrative of the nation. But still, is it not curious that Ashutosh Gowarikar chose Surjya Sen, Congress district committee president of Chittangong and founder of the Jugantar unit there? On purely historical grounds, I admit, it is exceedingly difficult to find a satisfactory answer to that question.

But that question has a very contemporary answer. Here is what Gowarikar says about the film: "It's about the zeal of patriotism…the desperation to throw away the oppressor- the British Raj. The oppressor is there in present times as well…it may be the socio-economic factor, or it can be moral issues…there are several oppressors today. Even today we need to address all of that and different kinds of revolution do need to come in to fight the social evils we are facing at the moment." The socio-economic factor, moral issues, several oppressors, different revolutions. What is he talking about? Why is he being so vague?

What the film effectively does is to present a historical narrative that pits an oppressive state against a bunch of young, idealistic revolutionaries. For those who have seen Gowarikar's Lagaan, the narrative clearly builds on an earlier precedent. This is his Rang De Basanti, a film directed at metropolitan Indian youth to recognize an obscure patriot outside the Congress pantheon of nationalist historiography. The "moral issues" Gowarikar speaks of in today's India are linked to state oppression. The "social-economic factor," as he puts it cryptically, is a consequence of that state-directed oppression of Indian society. And the solution, he secretly suggests, is violence as an expression of idealistic revolutionary politics to overthrow the oppressive regime.

Reading between the lines in this way, one can appreciate why Surjya Sen is meant to matter in 2010. Consider the scene in which the enthusiastic young revolutionaries speak of their love for the motherland. When these boys then speak of their hatred for the government, Sen (the portly Abhishek Bachchan) chides them by saying that he merely opposes its unjust domination of ordinary people. Next, consider the scene in which the young men (and women) plot to seize the armoury and acquire enough weapons to cut off supply lines to Chittangong from Calcutta. Anyone today should be reminded of the parallel with guerrilla strategies being employed today in Dandakaranya or the Jangal Mahals. Lastly, consider the visuals of the revolutionaries on the run in the Jalalabad Hills even as they lose their comrades one by one. This is a tragedy, we know already, but the idea of revolutionary violence is meant to matter to viewers because it signifies sacrifices towards a better tomorrow. That tomorrow ought to be not only free from state oppression, but also one characterized by communal amity and gender equity. In this context, recall how Tarakeshwar Dastidar is nursed back to good health by a Muslim couple and the overall significance of Kalpana Dutta (the de-glamorized Deepika Padukone) in the film. These are the multiple revolutionaries Gowarikar hopes to ignite.

Sadly, much like his protagonists, the filmmaker too fails in his mission. Abhishek Bachchan is appallingly bad as Surjya Sen. The younger Bachchan resembles, as in many of his recent films, an overfed cow that has been disturbed from its regular chewing habits. While his comrades follow Anushilan-style military training, Bachchan is conspicuously absent. Chewing, presumably. His dialogues lack conviction and inspire no one. The enthusiastic boys outdo him by some distance. The other big star in the film, Deepika Padukone, is happiest playing badminton with her friend. For much of the film, however, she is drawn away from the court to sleepwalk through the revolutionary plot. It does not help that she mouths insipid dialogues, but even then, Padukone is hopelessly miscast. Imagine Ajay Devgan in place of Bachchan and Vidya Balan instead of Padukone. A far better film would have resulted. As it stands, however, Gowarikar flatters to deceive. A golden opportunity to reinterpret the past in the service of contemporary politics has been squandered. It is unsurprising, therefore, that the film has opened poorly throughout the country this weekend. What a waste of a storyline!