The extraordinary range of people using offshore tax evasion hideaways

Records represent the biggest stockpile of inside information about the offshore system ever obtained by a media organisation

• Gerard Ryle
• The Guardian, Thursday 4 April 2013

The British Virgin Islands, the world's leading offshore haven. Photograph: Lars Ruecker/Getty Images/Flickr RF

The secret records obtained by ICIJ lay bare an extraordinary range of people using offshore hideaways.

They include US dentists and middle-class Greek villagers as well as families of despots, Wall Street swindlers, eastern European and Indonesian billionaires, Russian executives, international arms dealers and a company alleged to be a front for Iran's nuclear-development programme.

The leaks illustrate how offshore financial secrecy has aggressively spread around the globe. The records detail offshore holdings in more than 170 territories; this represents the biggest stockpile of inside information about the offshore system ever obtained by a media organisation.

To analyse it, ICIJ collaborated with reporters from the Guardian and the BBC in the UK, Le Monde in France, Süddeutsche Zeitung and Norddeutscher Rundfunk in Germany, The Washington Post, the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) and 31 other international media partners.

Eighty-six journalists from 46 countries used both hi-tech data crunching and traditional reporting to sift through emails and account ledgers covering nearly 30 years.

"I've never seen anything like this. This secret world has finally been revealed," said Arthur Cockfield, a law professor at Queen's University in Canada, during an interview with CBC.

Offshore's defenders say that most users are legitimate. Offshore centres, they say, allow people to diversify investments, create international ventures and do business in entrepreneur-friendly zones without red tape.

"Everything is much more geared toward business," David Marchant, publisher of OffshoreAlert, an online journal, said. "If you're dishonest, you can take advantage of that in a bad way. But if you're honest you can take advantage of that in a good way"

The vast tide of offshore money can disrupt economies. Greece's fiscal disaster was exacerbated by offshore tax cheating and in the Cyprus crisis, local banks' assets were inflated by waves of cash from Russia.

ICIJ's 15-month investigation found that, alongside perfectly legal transactions, the secrecy and lax oversight offered by the offshore world appears to allow fraud, tax-dodging and political corruption to thrive.

Anti-corruption campaigners argue that offshore secrecy forces citizens to pay higher taxes to make up for vanishing revenues, while anonymity makes it difficult to track the flow of money. A study by James S Henry, former chief economist at McKinsey & Company, estimates that wealthy individuals have $21-$32tn tucked away in offshore havens – roughly equivalent to the size of the US and Japanese economies combined. The offshore world is growing, said Henry, who is a board member of the Tax Justice Network, an advocacy group critical of offshore havens.

Much of ICIJ's analysis focused on the work of two major offshore incorporation firms, Portcullis TrustNet and Commonwealth Trust Limited (CTL). Trustnet was founded by Mike Mitchell, a New Zealand lawyer who worked as the Cook Islands' solicitor general in the early 1980s, built up offshore business in Hong Kong, and sold out in 2004 to Singapore lawyer David Chong, as Singapore became a favoured financial hideaway for clients from Asia.

Canadian businessman Tom Ward and Texan Scott Wilson set up CTL in 1994 in the British Virgin Islands. They specialised in attracting Russian and east European money. Regulators found that CTL repeatedly violated the islands' anti-money-laundering laws between 2003 and 2008 by failing to check out its clients. "This particular firm had systemic money-laundering issues," a BVI financial services commission official said last year.

Ward said CTL's vetting procedures had been consistent with local standards, but that no amount of screening could ensure that firms won't be "duped by dishonest clients".

In relation to the second firm, Trustnet, ICIJ identified 30 of their US clients accused in lawsuits or criminal cases of fraud, money laundering or other serious financial misconduct. TrustNet declined to answer our questions.

In the 1990s, the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development began pressuring offshore centres to reduce secrecy, but the effort ebbed in the 2000s as the Bush administration withdrew support, according to Robert Goulder, former editor-in-chief of Tax Notes International. A second "great crusade", Goulder writes, began when US authorities took on UBS, forcing the Swiss bank to pay $780m in 2009 to settle allegations that it had helped Americans dodge taxes. David Cameron has now vowed to use his leadership of the G8 to help crack down on tax evasion.

But despite the new efforts, offshore remains a "zone of impunity", says Jack Blum, a specialist lawyer and former US Senate investigator: "There's been some progress, but there's a bloody long way to go."

Gerard Ryle is director of the ICIJ, a Washington-based independent network of reporters. See icij.org
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 How many UK companies are run from overseas havens?

More than 175,000 UK companies have been controlled from countries linked by campaigners to offshore secrecy – but where has the most?

Tortola, the capital of the British Virgin Islands, sometimes referred to as the offshore capital of the world. 17,000 UK companies have been controlled from the BVI. Photograph: Neil Rabinowitz/Neil Rabinowitz/CORBIS

Among the latest revelations from the Guardian's Offshore Secrets series is a sense of how many of the three million companies registered at Companies House are controlled from offshore territories.

A first sense of the scale of such offshore control of British businesses is given in the Guardian's new story today:

More than 175,000 UK-registered companies have used directors giving addresses in offshore jurisdictions, the Guardian has established. This raises fresh concerns about the scale of Britain's involvement in offshore secrecy arrangements.

Data obtained from the corporate information service Duedil reveals 177,020 companies have listed directors in jurisdictions such as the Channel Islands, British Virgin Islands, Cyprus, Dubai and the Seychelles.

More than 60,000 of those companies are listed as currently active on Companies House, the official register of UK businesses.

Having directors in offshore jurisdictions does not indicate a company is doing anything illegal, or that a director is necessarily a sham. British expats who retain directorships of their business would feature in this data, as do "personal services companies" based in the Isle of Man, which help self-employed people incorporate themselves as a limited company.

What's also telling, however, is breakdown of which territories have the most directors of UK companies, posted below.

The scale of company ownership in some of these territories is huge: in the British Virgin Islands there are three UK companies for every four citizens. In the Isle of Man there is a UK company registration for every two people.

In Sark the situation is still more stark: counting now defunct companies, there are 24 UK companies registered on the island for every person there.

Below, using data gathered for the Guardian by DueDil, we've listed the number of companies registered in 13 different territories.

We've split the list in two different ways: companies listed as 'active' on Companies House (the official UK register) versus 'inactive', and also split between directorships which are still current and ones which have been resigned.

If you've got any comments or thoughts on these activities, leave a comment on our main news story today, or (if you'd prefer to comment confidentially), email me at james.ball@guardian.co.uk.

UK companies with offshore directors

Territory	Active companies	Inactive companies	Current directorships	Former directorships
Isle of Man	22366	24795	13757	33973
Guernsey	12024	11588	6799	17079
Cyprus	7609	18836	4082	22484
Jersey	8685	10818	3108	16560
Dubai	4937	6164	2611	8573
BVI	5329	12630	1943	16169
Seychelles	2693	4322	1773	5258
St Kitts and Nevis	1700	4460	832	5343
Mauritius	715	980	445	1260
Cayman Islands	558	414	330	644
Sark	1851	12923	209	14632
Vanuatu	136	246	92	292
Turks and Caicos	55	186	27	214
Total	68658	108362	36008	142481

The middle class loves the welfare state – but the poor hate it, Why?

By Brendan O'Neill in The Telegraph Politics Last updated: April 2nd, 2013

Comfortably off liberals are always bemused to discover that the working classes and poor do not share their love of the welfare state. Where impeccably middle-class students will bravely spend bitterly cold evenings defending NHS hospitals threatened with closure, and highly paid columnists will devote an entire afternoon to writing tear-drenched articles about the beggary the poor will be plunged into if they lose their benefits, the less well off themselves are decidedly sniffy about the welfare state. Some even seem to hate it. According to recent opinion polls, 64 per cent of Brits think the benefits system "doesn't work"; 78 per cent think that if an unemployed person turns down a job, his benefits should be trimmed; and 84 per cent believe there should be tougher work-capability tests for disabled people. Apparently such views are more entrenched among the poor than among the comfortable.

From these findings, we might deduce that many of the unmoneyed will have given an approving nod to the changes made to the welfare system by Iain Duncan Smith yesterday. And this drives pro-welfare writers and activists absolutely nuts. Why, they wail, are those on the breadline so down about glorious postwar welfarism? In yesterday's Guardian, a columnist did some very public handwringing over the weird fact that anti-welfare "noise" always gets louder "as you head into the most disadvantaged parts of society". This echoes a recent Guardian editorial which bemoaned the way ordinary Brits have become "more Scrooge-like" towards welfare claimants. Or behold the poor, bamboozled Joseph Rowntree researcher who was horrified to discover recently that the less well-off are not "pro-welfare".

Pity the poor, unthanked middle-class warrior for welfare rights! Why is it always his kind alone that must attend demos defending jobseekers' allowance while the fat, fickle jobseekers themselves stay at home, probably watching Jeremy Kyle? Why is it always left to the well-educated activist to adorn her Twitter page with banners saying "I heart the NHS" while the poorest beneficiaries of the NHS fill their Twitterfeeds with tripe about Kim Kardashian's baby bump? These unloved fighters for the right of poor folk to receive money and comfort from the state have come up with all sorts of theories to explain the poor's failure to get off their lardy derrières and defend welfarism. Their favourite is the idea that poor folk, being a bit dim and all, have been brainwashed by "scrounger"-hating tabloid newspapers. As a result of political-class diktat and media messaging, these dimwits have apparently "internalised a Thatcherite every-man-for-himself mentality".

In truth, the real dimwittery in this debate is among the confused and angry middle-class warriors for welfarism. They have simply failed, and failed miserably, to reckon with one of the iron laws of modern politics – which is that the more reliant you are on the welfare state, the more experience you have of it, the less you love it. And by extension, the further removed you are from the welfare state, the less experience you have of it, then the more you can fantasise about its virtues and grow to love it – or at least to love an imaginary version of it derived from watching Casualty and reading Polly Toynbee columns.

If the less well-off really are more hostile to welfarism than the bien-pensant classes, that's perfectly logical. It's because they know the soul-deadening and community-dividing impact that blanket welfarism can have (Editor's comment - Not Sure if this is true). It's because they know that being sustained by the state is a miserable existence compared with being busy, independent, self-reliant. It's because they know that NHS hospitals, especially in the poorer parts of Britain, are far from the greatest human creations since the pyramids, but rather are soulless institutions in which families are relentlessly hectored about their lifestyle choices and eating habits, and the old are treated like animals. It's because they know that the offering of "incapacity" benefits to the long-term unemployed encourages these people to see themselves as sick rather than as having been let down by society. It's because they know that workless communities propped up by ceaseless welfare-state intervention tend to become ghost towns, bereft of individual initiative and lacking in social solidarity. After all, if an individual's or family's every financial and therapeutic need is being met by faraway faceless bureaucrats, what earthly need is there for them to strike up relationships within their own communities, to get together with others in the pursuit of daily happiness or a better future? Welfarism, by coaxing the poor man into the all-encompassing bosom of the state, alienates him from his neighbour. Who could love such a system, save those cushioned sections of society that are lucky enough never to have been mangled by it?

So, all you well-to-do campaigners for the protection or expansion of the welfare state, there is no need to be bemused by the poor's indifference to your battle. For what you love about welfarism – that it insulates the so-called "vulnerable" from the chaotic, often unfair world of the market and struggle and work – is precisely what the poor hate about it (Editor's comment - Am not sure of this conclusion about the poor).

Kashmir police published “survival tips” for nuclear war - Arundhati Roy's rebuttal to Praveen Swami

Does Your Bomb-Proof Basement Have An Attached Toilet?

An execution carried out to thundering war clouds

ARUNDHATI ROY 

What are the political consequences of the secret and sudden hanging of Mohammed Afzal Guru, prime accused in the 2001 Parliament attack, going to be? Does anybody know? The memo, in callous bureaucratese, with every name insultingly misspelt, sent by the Superintendent of Central Jail No. 3, Tihar, New Delhi, to “Mrs Tabassum w/o Sh Afjal Guru” reads:

“The mercy petition of Sh Mohd Afjal Guru s/o Habibillah has been rejected by Hon’ble President of India. Hence the execution of Mohd Afjal Guru s/o Habibillah has been fixed for 09/02/2013 at 8 am in Central Jail No-3.
This is for your information and for further necessary action.”

The mailing of the memo was deliberately timed to get to Tabassum only after the execution, denying her one last legal chanc­e—the right to challenge the rejection of the mercy petition. Both Afzal and his family, separately, had that right. Both were thwarted. Even though it is mandat­ory in law, the memo to Tabassum ascribed no reason for the president’s rejection of the mercy petition. If no reason is given, on what basis do you appeal? All the other prisoners on death row in India have been given that last chance.

Since Tabassum was not allowed to meet her husband before he was hanged, since her son was not allowed to get a few last words of advice from his father, since she was not given his body to bury, and since there can be no funeral, what “further necessary action” does the jail manual prescribe? Anger? Wild, irreparable grief? Unquestioning acc­eptance? Complete integration?

After the hanging, there have been unseemly celebrations. The bereaved wives of the people who were killed in the attack on Parliament were displayed on TV, with M.S. Bitta, chairman of the All-India Anti-Terrorist Front, and his ferocious moustaches playing the CEO of their sad little company. Will anybody tell them that the men who shot their husbands were killed at the same time, in the same place? And that those who planned the attack will never be brought to justice because we still don’t know who they are.

India has displayed a touching belief in the testimony of a former chief of the ISI, of which the mandate has been to destabilise India.

Meanwhile, Kashmir is under curfew, once again. Its people have been locked down like cattle in a pen, once again. They have defied curfew, once again. Three people have already been killed in three days and fifteen more grievou­sly injured. Newspapers have been shut down, but anybody who trawls the internet will see that this time the rage of young Kashmiris is not defiant and exuberant like it was during the mass uprisings in the summers of 2008, 2009 and 2010­—even though 180 people lost their lives on those occasions. This time the anger is cold and corrosive. Unforgiving. Is there any reason why it shouldn’t be?

For more than 20 years, Kashmiris have endured a military occupation. The tens of thousands who lost their lives were killed in prisons, in torture centres, and in ‘encounters’, genuine as well as fake. What sets the execution of Afzal Guru apart is that it has given the young, who have never had any first-hand experience of democracy, a ringside seat to watch the full majesty of Indian democracy at work. They have watched the wheels turning, they have seen all its hoary institutions, the government, police, courts, political parties and yes, the media, collude to hang a man, a Kashmiri, who they do not believe received a fair trial. With good reason.

He went virtually unrepresented in the lower court during the most crucial part of the trial. The court-appointed lawyer never visited him in prison, and actually admitted incriminating evidence against his own client.  (The Supreme Court deliberated on that matter and decided it was okay.) In short, his guilt was by no means established beyond reasonable doubt. They have watched the government pull him out of the death row queue and execute him out of turn. What direction, what form will their new cold, corrosive anger take? Will it lead them to the blessed liberation they so yearn for and have sacrificed a whole generation for, or will it lead to yet another cycle of cataclysmic violence, of being beaten down, and then having ‘normalcy’ imposed on them under soldiers’ boots?

Afzal Guru family weren’t given the President’s reasons for rejecting his mercy plea. (Photograph by Getty Images, From Outlook 25 February 2013)

All of us who live in the region know that 2014 is going to be a watershed year. There will be elections in Pakistan, in India and in the state of Jammu and Kashmir. We know that when the US withdraws its troops from Afghanistan, the chaos from an already seriously destabilised Pakistan will spill into Kashmir, as it has done before. By executing Afzal Guru in the way that it did, the government of India has taken a decision to fuel that process of destabilisation, to actually invite it in. (As it did before, by rigging the 1987 elections in Kashmir.) After three consecutive years of mass protests in the Valley ended in 2010, the government invested a great deal in restoring its version of ‘norma­lcy’ (happy tourists, voting Kashmiris). The question is, why was it willing to reverse all its own efforts? Leaving aside issues of the legality, the morality and the venality of executing Afzal Guru in the way that it did, and looking at it just politically, tactically, it is a dangerous and irresponsible thing to have done. But it was done. Clearly, and knowingly. Why?

I used the word ‘irresponsible’ advisedly. Look what happened the last time around.

Kashmiri youth have seen Indian democracy at work now, and believe its institutions have sent a man to the gallows without a fair trial.

In 2001, within a week of the Parliament attack (and a few days after Afzal Guru’s arrest), the government recalled its ambassador from Pakistan and dispatched half a million troops to the border. On what basis was that done? The only thing the public was told is that while Afzal Guru was in the custody of the Delhi Police Special Cell, he had admitted to being a member of the Pakistan-based militant group, Jaish-e-Mohammed (JeM). The Supreme Court set aside that ‘confession’ extracted in police custody as inadmissible in law. Does what is inadmissible in law become admissible in war?

In its final judgement on the case, apart from the now famous statements about “satisfying collective conscience” and having no direct evidence, the Supreme Court also said there was “no evidence that Mohammed Afzal belonged to any terrorist group or organisation”. So what justified that military aggression, that loss of soldiers’ lives, that massive haemorrhaging of public money and the real risk of nuclear war? (Remember foreign embassies issued travel advisories and evacuated their staff?) Was there some intelligence that preceded the Parliament attack and the arrest of Afzal Guru that we had not been told about? If so, how could the attack be allowed to happen? And if the intelligence was accurate, and infallible enough to justify such dangerous military posturing, don’t people in India, Pakistan and Kashmir have the right to know what it was? Why was that evidence not produced in court to establish Afzal Guru’s guilt?

In the endless debates around the Parliament attack case, on this, perhaps the most crucial issue of all, there has been dead silence from all quarters—leftists, rightists, Hindutva-ists, secularists, nationalists, seditionists, cynics, critics. Why?

Maybe the JeM did mastermind the attack. Praveen Swami, perhaps the Indian media’s best known expert on ‘terrorism’, who seems to have enviable sources in the Indian police and intelligence agencies, has recently cited the 2003 testimony of former ISI chief Lt Gen Javed Ashraf Qazi, and the 2004 book by Muhammad Amir Rana, a Pakistani scholar, holding the JeM responsible for the Parliament attack. (It’s touching, this belief in the veracity of the testimony of the chief of an organisation whose mandate it is to destabilise India.) It still doesn’t explain what evidence there was in 2001, when the army mobilisation took place.

For the sake of argument, let’s accept that the JeM carried out the attack. Maybe the ISI was involved too. We needn’t pretend that the government of Pakistan is innocent of carrying out covert activity over Kashmir. (Just as the government of India does in Balochistan and parts of Pakistan. Remember the Indian army trained the Mukti Bahini in East Pakistan in the 1970s, and six different Sri Lankan Tamil militant groups, including the LTTE, in the 1980s.)

A few days back, Pakistan test-fired a nuclear missile of short range, for use on the battlefield. And Kashmir police published N-survival tips.

It’s a filthy scenario all around. What would a war with Pakistan have achieved then, and what will it achieve now? (Apart from a massive loss of life. And fattening the bank accounts of some arms dealers.) Indian hawks routinely suggest the only way to “root out the problem” is “hot pursuit” and the “taking out” of “terrorist camps” in Pakistan. Really? It would be interesting to research how many of the aggressive strategic experts and defence analysts on our TV screens have an interest in the defence and weapons industry. They don’t even need war. They just need a war-like climate in which military spending remains on an upward graph. This idea of hot pursuit is even stupider and more pathetic than it sounds. What would they bomb? A few individuals? Their barracks and food supplies? Or their ideology? Look how the US government’s “hot pursuit” has ended in Afghanistan. And look how a “security grid” of half-a-million soldiers has not been able to subdue the unarmed, civilian population of Kashmir. And India is going to cross international borders to bomb a country—with nuclear arms—that is rapidly devolving into chaos? India’s professional war-mongers derive a great deal of satisfaction by sneering at what they see as the disintegration of Pakistan. Anyone with a rudimentary, working knowledge of history and geography would know that the breakdown of Pakistan (into a gangland of crazed, nihilistic, religious zealots) is absolutely no reason for anyone to rejoice.

The US presence in Afghanistan and Iraq, and Pakistan’s official role as America’s junior partner in the war on terror, makes that region a much-reported place. The rest of the world is at least aware of the dangers unfolding there. Less understood, and harder to read, is the perilous wind that’s picking up speed in the world’s favourite new superpower. The Indian economy is in considerable trouble. The aggressive, acquisitive ambition that economic liberalisation unleashed in the newly created middle class is quickly turning into an equally aggressive frustration. The aircraft they were sitting in has begun to stall just after takeoff. Exhilaration is turning to panic.
The general election is due in 2014. Even without an exit poll I can tell you what the results will be. Though it may not be obvious to the naked eye, once again we will have a Congress-BJP coalition. (Two parties, each with a mass murder of thousands of people belonging to minority communities under their belts.) The CPI(M) will give support from outside, even though it hasn’t been asked to. Oh, and it will be a strong state. (On the hanging front, the gloves are already off. Could the next in line be Balwant Singh Rajoana, on death row for the assassination of Punjab’s chief minister Beant Singh? His execution could revive Khalistani sentiment in Punjab and put the Akali Dal on the mat. Perfect old-style Congress politics.)

But that old-style politics is in some difficulty. In the last few turbulent months, it is not just the image of major political parties, but politics itself, the idea of politics as we know it, that has taken a battering. Again and again, whether it’s corruption, rising prices, or rape and the rising violence against women, the new middle class is at the barricades. They can be water-cannoned or lathicharged, but can’t be shot or impriso­ned in their thousands, in the way the poor can, the way Dalits, Adivasis, Muslims, Kashmiris, Nagas and Manipuris can—and have been. The old political parties know that if there is not to be a complete meltdown, this aggression has to be headed off, redirected. They know that they must work together to bring politics back to what it used to be. What better way than a communal conflagration? (How else can the secular play at being secular and the communal be communal?) Maybe even a little war, so that we can play Hawks & Doves all over again.
What better solution than to aim a kick at that tried and trusted old political football—Kashmir? The hanging of Afzal Guru, its brazenness and its timing, is deliberate. It has brought politics and anger back onto Kashmir’s streets.

The idea of ‘hot pursuit’ is stupid, pathetic. What would we bomb? Some individuals? Their barracks? Or their ideology?

India hopes to manage it with the usual combination of brute force and poisonous, Machiavellian manipulation, des­igned to pit people against one another. The war in Kashmir is presented to the world as a battle between an inclusive, secular democracy and radical Islamists. What then should we make of the fact that Mufti Bashiruddin, the so-called Grand Mufti of Kashmir (a completely phantom post)—who has made most abominable hate speeches and issued fatwa after fatwa, intended to present Kashmir as a demonic, monolithic, Wahabi society—is actually a government-anointed cleric? Kids on Facebook will be arrested, never him. What should we make of the fact that the Indian government looks away while money from Saudi Arabia (that most steadfast partner of the US) is pouring into Kashmir’s madrassas? How different is this from what the CIA did in Afghanistan all those years ago? That whole, sorry business is what created Osama bin Laden, Al Qaeda and the Taliban. It has decimated Afghanistan and Pakistan. What sort of incubus will this unleash?

The trouble is that the old political football may not be all that easy to control any more. And it’s radioactive. Maybe it is not a coincidence that a few days ago Pakistan tested a short-range battlefield nuclear missile to protect itself against threats from “evolving scenarios”. Two weeks ago, the Kashmir police published “survival tips” for nuclear war. Apart from advising people to build toilet-equipped bombproof basements large enough to house their entire families for two weeks, it said: “During a nuclear attack, motorists should dive out of their cars toward the blast to save themselves from being crushed by their soon-to-be tumbling vehicles.” And to “expect some initial disorientation as the blast wave may blow down and carry away many prominent and familiar features”.

Prominent and familiar features may already have been blown down. Perhaps we should all jump out of our soon-to-be-tumbling vehicles.

An Alternative view on Modi's Gujarat

Illustration by Sorit            Opportunity Costs Of A Leader             The Gujarat model dispossessed and polarised millions, and scotched debate. Would India take it to heart? Suchitra Balasubrahmanyan

I moved to Delhi some three weeks ago after spending over three decades of my life in
Ahmedabad, prepared to be quizzed about the impending elections in Gujarat and whether the present government is likely to return to power for the third consecutive term; hear praise for peace returning to Gujarat after the violence of 2002, since no incidents of violence have taken place since then; and hear about Gujarat’s astonishing economic development and the prospect of the state’s leadership moving from Gandhinagar to New Delhi. I get all that.

But I also wonder if the people who ask me these questions realise that the Gujarat development model is inextricably linked with a certain set of ideologies, ambitions and aspirations which facilitate and sustain it?

In some ways, Gujarat is a microcosm of India. It has a great diversity of religions, castes and communities. The percentage of Muslim minorities in the state is just slightly lower than the national average. Dalits and adivasis together form about a fifth of Gujarati society, just as in the rest of India. (However, the Dalit-adivasi ratio is quite different). And all these communities, along with fisherfolk, pastoralists and the landless poor, have paid the price for helping realise the economic dreams of the state’s expanding, ambitious middle classes. Common property resources—coastal land, rivers and pastoral lands in rural areas—have been systematically taken over to make way for special economic zones and large industrial and infrastructure projects. Lakes and riverfronts have been gated and redeveloped as entertainment zones and real estate for the urban elite, dispossessing the poor, marginalised and the voiceless.

What is the worldview that underpins the shaping of such a socio-economic order? I am neither a political analyst nor a sociologist, just a teacher of design and I speak from direct experience. This is a development model, it’s plain to see, whose motive force is the ambition of the Gujarati middle class, made possible through large-scale dispossession and sustained only by denying dissent.

Anyone raising issues of equity, justice or sustainability associated with such a model of development is likely to be branded antediluvian at best and ‘outsider’, anti-Gujarat and pseudo-secularist at worst. Either way, dissenting views would find no space in the local media or in public discourse.
Since the 1980s, episodes of caste and communal violence have sharpened spatial segregation of communities, resulting in Muslim and Dalit ghettoes and upper-caste enclaves and declining social interaction. Muslims increasingly send their children to schools run by their community in their own localities. Within the municipal school system, they prefer the Urdu medium of instruction, while Gujarati medium schools are attended overwhelmingly by Dalit children. Schools are spaces for shared childhoods leading to adult bonds of friendship and understanding within accepted traditional social boundaries, but such spaces are no longer available. So it’s not Muslims and Dalits who are victims of social polarisation, but Gujarati society as a whole.

Anyone raising issues of equity or justice vis-a-vis the Gujarat model of development would be branded antediluvian at best, and anti-Gujarat ‘outsiders’ at worst.

After three decades of caste and communal violence, and almost fifteen years of the present political regime, we now have a generation of young Gujarati adults who know no other social order, no other way of being. The lack of access to diverse views through the media or public debate breeds intolerant parochialism and uncritical acceptance of the mirage of miraculous growth-rate figures. Perhaps, the middle class elsewhere is no different in its aspirations for a Gujarat style of development. But they might like to take a moment to consider the kind of social order that will inevitably accompany it and the political sanction it will receive. Would that be their idea of India? Significantly, cases related to the murder of an activist protesting against illegal mining in south-western Gujarat (he was murdered right outside the Gujarat High Court) and the blocking of community access to a river by a prominent industrial house are now before the Supreme Court. It is worth remembering that in the thousands of cases related to the 2002 riots that were closed in local courts, the process of bringing the perpetrators of communal carnage to justice had restarted only on the intervention of the SC. What will happen to democratic institutions of checks and balances if a Gujarati worldview were to be established nationally is anyone’s guess.

As a university teacher I can attest, as will other colleagues in design, architecture and management institutes in Ahmedabad, how difficult it is to even discuss ideas like secularism or social justice in the classroom, or to debate whether or not the state’s development model is socially and economically sustainable, or the human costs involved. Yet, I remain optimistic, happy with small signs that there is some intuitive goodness, even courage, in young people that shines through my experiences with students. This year, Id was celebrated at roughly the same time as the festival of Rakshabandhan. In a classroom assignment, students were asked to observe the social geography of the old parts of Ahmedabad. One student, a young woman, reported her observations of a side-lane flanked on one side by a Muslim mohalla and on the other by a Jain pol. Id decorations lined the mohalla-side of the road and rakhis were displayed for sale on the opposite side. She said she was really happy to see this, that the two communities could celebrate their festivals side by side. In another classroom project, architecture students were asked to visualise designs for the disputed Ramjanmabhoomi site, in accordance with the Allahabad High Court ruling. Each student in the class offered designs which, while complying with the ruling, brought the irreconcilable communities together, using the space creatively to resolve the differences.

While young people often echo the prejudice and parochialism that surrounds them, when given a chance to experience reality freely and to relate in a human way, they respond positively. Left to themselves, they can intuitively feel the rich web of their environment and respond humanely. But these impulses need nurturing, they need space to breathe and expand and be expressed. In Gujarat, and also in the rest of India.

---

(Suchitra Balasubrahmanyan teaches at the School of Design, Ambedkar University, Delhi, and co-authored Ahmedabad: From Royal City to Megacity, Penguin 2011)

Ideals go overboard when it comes to choosing a school

Janet Street-Porter
Sunday, 26 June 2011

Don't you love the way alleged socialists and the community-minded middle classes justify their biggest act of hypocrisy – claiming that they want better education for all, while paying through the nose to send their offspring to private schools? Marcus Brigstocke, a pleasant enough comedian, has been doing a bit of hand wringing, telling this paper last week, "I have ethical problems with it [my choice] but... I think this is the best environment for them". Rich people always use the feeblest excuses to justify paying to segregate their children from the rest.
George Osborne, the Chancellor, has decided to send his kids, Luke and Liberty, to swanky Norland Place in west London, and says "we made a decision we feel is best for them". Since when did "best" mean "fee- paying"? Even lefty musicians undergo a radical change of heart when they start to breed. New Statesman columnist Alex James, whose band Blur trashed public schools in their song "Charmless Man", is opting for private, protesting "you want your kids to have the best education". The MP Diane Abbott shunned local schools in Hackney and spent thousands sending her son James to a top school, claiming she did not want him to "get in with the wrong crowd". A great message to send to constituents who have no other choice. She claimed that other West Indian mums sympathised with her – shameless.
Private schools account for only 7 per cent of students, but 45 per cent of the Oxbridge intake – and that's the reason middle-class parents, even in a recession, will remortgage their homes, give up holidays, and beg grandparents for cash to meet the fees. As parents struggle to pay this self-imposed tithe, independent schools are getting into debt – they're owed £120,000 on average – and many are raising fees. Surely the time is right for parents to come to their senses, save their lolly and give state education a chance?
I never thought I'd feel sympathy for Michael Gove, the Secretary of State for Education, but I do. Tasked with trying to drag all state schools up to a decent level of achievement, he's besieged on all fronts. He's highly committed, but what about his fellow politicians? Not only does his own party prefer private education for their children, the Prime Minister says he's "terrified"of finding a good state secondary school for his family. The left is no better – many choose faith schools and selective secondaries in the belief that it will give their kids a better start in life. David Miliband is an atheist, yet sends his eldest son to a faith school over a mile away, when there is a secular primary close by. In short, few people in power or in the public eye are willing to endorse state schools.
It's as if Michael Gove is trying to sell us cars that no one in government, the professions or the City would be seen dead driving. He's got plenty of other problems on his plate – Ofqual, the body that monitors exam standards, recently failed to spot that 10 GCSE and A-level papers contained mistakes, affecting up to 250,000 students. They can hold an investigation and castigate exam boards, but surely the buck stops with them. Of course no one will get the sack or resign, and many young people will be denied the university of their choice.
This week, 300,000 teachers plan to strike over changes to their pension arrangements, and Gove has said schools have a "moral duty" to stay open. On top of all that, a review into testing primary school leavers wants to change the creative writing paper and replace it with "right" or "wrong" tick boxes. Doesn't sound very challenging to me. Teachers have moaned and moaned about these test, but the number of kids leaving primary school who are illiterate is shocking.
Gove needs more money for teachers to reduce class sizes – the only way that standards will improve. He needs to introduce quality vocational training for less academic kids at 14, so they will be ready to take up lucrative jobs as plumbers, engineers, and builders. Labour introduced worthless diplomas instead of A-levels, which have left hundreds of thousands of teenagers unemployed and unskilled. I am the product of a state education – and it couldn't have been better. Gove needs cash and moral support from his colleagues and prominent citizens. Sadly it looks as if neither will be forthcoming.