Understanding Populism

Nadeem F Paracha in The Dawn


In a March 7, 2010 essay for the New York Times, the American linguist and author Ben Zimmer writes, “When politicians fret about the public perception of a decision more than the substance of the decision itself, we’re living in a world of optics.”

On the other hand, according to Deborah Johnson in the June 2017 issue of Attorney at Law, a politician may have the best interests of his constituents in mind, but he or she doesn’t come across smoothly because optics are bad, even though the substance is good. Johnson writes that things have increasingly slid from substance to optics.

Optics in this context have always played a prominent role in politics. Yet, it is also true that their usage has grown manifold with the proliferation of electronic and social media, and, especially, of ‘populism.’ Populists often travel with personal photographers so that they can be snapped and proliferate images that are positively relevant to their core audience.

Pakistan’s PM Imran Khan relies heavily on such optics. He is also considered to be a populist. But then why did he so stubbornly refuse to meet the mourning families of the 11 Hazara Shia miners who were brutally murdered in Quetta? Instead, the optics space in this case was filled by opposition leaders, Maryam Nawaz and Bilawal Bhutto.

Nevertheless, this piece is not about why an optics-obsessed PM such as Khan didn’t immediately occupy the space that was eventually filled by his opponents. It is more about exploring whether Khan really is a populist? For this we will have to first figure out what populism is.

According to the American sociologist, Bart Bonikowski, in the 2019 anthology When Democracy Trumps Populism, populism poses to be ‘anti-establishment’ and ‘anti-elite.’ It can emerge from the right as well as the left, but during its most recent rise in the last decade, it has mostly come up from the right.  

According to Bonikowski, populism of the right has stark ethnic or religious nationalist tendencies. It draws and popularises a certain paradigm of ‘authentic’ racial or religious nationalism and claims that those who do not have the required features to fit in this paradigm are outsiders and, therefore, a threat to the ‘national body.’ It also lashes out against established political forces and state institutions for being ‘elitist,’ ‘corrupt’ and facilitators of pluralism that is usurping the interests of the authentic members of the national body in a bid to undermine the ‘silent majority.’ Populism aspires to represent this silent majority, claiming to empower it.

Simply put, all this, in varying degrees, is at the core of populist regimes that, in the last decade or so, began to take shape in various countries — especially in the US, UK, India, Brazil, Turkey, Philippines, Hungary, Poland, Russia, Czech Republic and Pakistan. Yet, if anti-establishmentarian action and rhetoric is a prominent feature of populism, then what about populist regimes that are not only close to certain powerful state institutions, but were or are actually propped up by them? Opposition parties in Pakistan insist that Imran Khan’s party is propped up by the country’s military establishment, which is aiding it to remain afloat despite it failing on many fronts. The same is the case with the populist regime in Brazil.

Does this mean such regimes are not really populist? No. According to the economist Pranab Bardhan (University of California, Berkeley), even though populists share many similarities, populism’s shape can shift from region to region. Bardhan writes that characteristics of populism are qualitatively different in developed countries from those in developing countries. For example, whereas globalisation is seen in a negative light by populists in Europe and the US, a November 2016 survey published in The Economist shows that the people of 18 developing countries saw it positively, believing it gave their countries’ economies the opportunity to assert themselves.

Secondly, according to Bardhan, survey evidence suggests that much of the support for populist politics in developed countries is coming from less-educated, blue-collar workers, and from the rural backwaters. Populists in developing countries, by contrast, are deriving support mainly from the rising middle classes and the aspirational youth in urban areas. To Bardhan, in India, Pakistan, Turkey, Poland and Russia, symbols of ‘illiberal religious resurgence’ have been used by populist leaders to energise the upwardly-mobile or arriviste social groups.

He also writes that, in developed countries, populism is at loggerheads with the centralising state and political institutions, because it sees them as elitist, detached and a threat to local communities. But in developing countries, the populists have tried to centralise power and weaken local communities. To populists in developing countries, the main villains are not the so-called cold and detached state institutions, but ‘corrupt’ civilian parties. Ironically, while populism in the US is against welfare programmes, such programmes remain important to populists in developing countries.

Keeping this in mind, one can conclude that PM Khan is a populist, quite like his populist contemporaries in other developing countries. Despite nationalist rhetoric and his condemnatory understanding of colonialism, globalisation that promises foreign investment in the country is welcomed. His main base of support remains aspirational and upwardly-mobile urban middle-class segments. He often uses religious symbology and exhibitions of piety to energise this segment, providing religious context to what are actually Western ideas of state, governance, economics and nationalism. For example, the Scandinavian idea of the welfare state that he admires is defined as Riyasat-i-Madina (State of Madina).

Unlike populism in Europe and the US, populism in developing countries embraces the ‘establishment’ and, instead, turns its guns towards established political parties which it describes as being ‘corrupt.’ Khan is no different. He admires the Chinese system of central planning and economy and dreams of a centralised system that would seamlessly merge the military, the bureaucracy and his government into a single ruling whole. His urban middle-class supporters often applaud this ‘vision.’

Why you should not trust international rankings of universities and professors

 Pervez Hoodbhoy

The Story of Judah Folkman (in Malayalam)

 

Conspiracy theorists destroy a rational society: resist them

John Thornhill in The FT

Buzz Aldrin’s reaction to the conspiracy theorist who told him the moon landings never happened was understandable, if not excusable. The astronaut punched him in the face. 

Few things in life are more tiresome than engaging with cranks who refuse to accept evidence that disproves their conspiratorial beliefs — even if violence is not the recommended response. It might be easier to dismiss such conspiracy theorists as harmless eccentrics. But while that is tempting, it is in many cases wrong. 

As we have seen during the Covid-19 pandemic and in the mob assault on the US Congress last week, conspiracy theories can infect the real world — with lethal effect. Our response to the pandemic will be undermined if the anti-vaxxer movement persuades enough people not to take a vaccine. Democracies will not endure if lots of voters refuse to accept certified election results. We need to rebut unproven conspiracy theories. But how? 

The first thing to acknowledge is that scepticism is a virtue and critical scrutiny is essential. Governments and corporations do conspire to do bad things. The powerful must be effectively held to account. The US-led war against Iraq in 2003, to destroy weapons of mass destruction that never existed, is a prime example.  

The second is to re-emphasise the importance of experts, while accepting there is sometimes a spectrum of expert opinion. Societies have to base decisions on experts’ views in many fields, such as medicine and climate change, otherwise there is no point in having a debate. Dismissing the views of experts, as Michael Gove famously did during the Brexit referendum campaign, is to erode the foundations of a rational society. No sane passenger would board an aeroplane flown by an unqualified pilot.  

In extreme cases, societies may well decide that conspiracy theories are so harmful that they must suppress them. In Germany, for example, Holocaust denial is a crime. Social media platforms that do not delete such content within 24 hours of it being flagged are fined. 

In Sweden, the government is even establishing a national psychological defence agency to combat disinformation. A study published this week by the Oxford Internet Institute found “computational propaganda” is now being spread in 81 countries. 

Viewing conspiracy theories as political propaganda is the most useful way to understand them, according to Quassim Cassam, a philosophy professor at Warwick university who has written a book on the subject. In his view, many conspiracy theories support an implicit or explicit ideological goal: opposition to gun control, anti-Semitism or hostility to the federal government, for example. What matters to the conspiracy theorists is not whether their theories are true, but whether they are seductive. 

So, as with propaganda, conspiracy theories must be as relentlessly opposed as they are propagated. 

That poses a particular problem when someone as powerful as the US president is the one shouting the theories. Amid huge controversy, Twitter and Facebook have suspended Donald Trump’s accounts. But Prof Cassam says: “Trump is a mega disinformation factory. You can de-platform him and address the supply side. But you still need to address the demand side.” 

On that front, schools and universities should do more to help students discriminate fact from fiction. Behavioural scientists say it is more effective to “pre-bunk” a conspiracy theory — by enabling people to dismiss it immediately — than debunk it later. But debunking serves a purpose, too. 

As of 2019, there were 188 fact-checking sites in more than 60 countries. Their ability to inject facts into any debate can help sway those who are curious about conspiracy theories, even if they cannot convince true believers. 

Under intense public pressure, social media platforms are also increasingly filtering out harmful content and nudging users towards credible sources of information, such as medical bodies’ advice on Covid. 

Some activists have even argued for “cognitive infiltration” of extremist groups, suggesting that government agents should intervene in online chat rooms to puncture conspiracy theories. That may work in China but is only likely to backfire in western democracies, igniting an explosion of new conspiracy theories. 

Ultimately, we cannot reason people out of beliefs that they have not reasoned themselves into. But we can, and should, punish those who profit from harmful irrationality. There is a tried-and-tested method of countering politicians who peddle and exploit conspiracy theories: vote them out of office.

A Reluctant Feminist - Chapter 1

By Girish Menon

 

Laila, strapped to a seat in an Air Force AN-12 transport aircraft, hums

Waqt ne kiya kya haseen situm,

Hum rahen na hum,

Tum rahen na tum.

(Time, you’ve tricked us, I’m not the old me, Nor you the old you)

The sound of the azaan from her phone wakes her from her reverie; she unbuckles her seat belt, stands up, stretches her weary limbs, sidesteps a coffin like wooden box in front of her, goes to the open space on the aircraft, searches for the direction of Mecca and rolls out her mat. Suddenly the aircraft shudders and Laila notices the inside of the coffin has slid out. A shiny glint from the corpse’s necklace catches her eye. Laila rolls up her mat, pulls out a pair of latex gloves, wears them, removes the necklace and places it in a thick gift wrapped box in her handbag. The aircraft shudders again and the coffin innards slide out a bit more. Laila notices the corpse is wearing a shiny bracelet on its right wrist. She removes it and arranges it decoratively in the box alongside the necklace.  She pulls out some adhesive tape from her bag, slides the coffin shut, tapes it and allows herself a wry smile. The perks of the job!

 The captain yells: “Laila, Discharge time!”

Laila: Sir, how did he die?

Captain: Polonium poisoning, I think

The cargo doors of the plane open. Laila gets up and gives the coffin a push. It rolls off outside the aircraft. The aircraft veers upwards into the sky, lands at an airport and Laila emerges into a dark Mumbai evening at Kalina and calls for an Uber to take her home to Bhendi Bazaar.

Laila unlocks the door and quietly tiptoes to the safe in her bedroom. She removes the gift wrapped box from her knapsack, places it in the safe, locks it and rushes to the toilet. Abdul is watching TV from his armchair enjoying the song

Dil se tujhko bedilli hai,

Mujhko hai dil ka ghuroor,

Tu yeh mane ke na mane

Log manenge zaroor,

Yeh mera deewana pan hai

Ya mohabbat ka suroor,

Tu na pehchane to hai

Ye teri nazroon ka kasoor.

(You seem to deny your heart, While I am proud of my love, You may not admit it,    The world will recognise it, It could be my irrationality, Or a hangover of love, If you cannot still spot it, You could be loveblind)

 

He switches off the TV, humming the rest of the song he walks wearily to the dining table, waiting for Laila. Laila emerges from the toilet, washes her hands and rushes to the dining table which has vessels of cooked food and two overturned plates and glasses. The maid warms the food.  

Laila: Why haven't you eaten? It's not good for your diabetes.

Abdul: Nooo. You know that I don't like to eat alone.

Laila serves food for Abdul and herself

Laila: Ok, I'm sorry darling. Let's eat.

Abdul: What took you so long?

Laila: Routine, unending work. You know I can't say anything more.

Abdul: Was it a late parcel delivery?

Laila Smiles

Abdul: Ok, then can we discuss about Sana?

Laila: You know the nature of my job. What about Sana?

Abdul: She has failed in maths again. Her teacher has sent a note.

Laila: What about her tuition teacher? What is she doing despite the huge fees?

Abdul: Well! She says that without Sana doing any homework there is no way any teacher can help with her maths.

Laila: How was your day?

Abdul: Hectic, I got in an hour before you and Sana was already asleep. I think Sana needs one parent to be around when she comes from school.

Laila: You know I have to take an early flight to Delhi tomorrow.

Abdul: Why, I thought you were in the Maharashtra Police.

Laila: Yes, but Lakshmi Madam said that I was being considered for a special assignment.

Abdul: What special assignment? Have any of your assignments ever been ordinary? You bring this up every time I mention Sana. I think you should leave the job. I can support the whole family and I might get a London transfer soon.

Laila: OH! That’s great! Let me finish this one assignment and then I will apply for VRS. It will also give me a pension for life.

Abdul: But you said the same thing two years ago.

Laila: I know! I know! Please trust me one last time. 

They finish their meal in silence. Dump the dishes in the sink, jump into bed and start snoring.

Same time the next day Abdul watches the song

Dil ko teri hi tamanna

Dil ko hai tujhse hi pyaar

Chahe tu aaye na aaye

Hum karenge intezaar

Yeh mera deewanapan hai

(My heart desires you, My heart loves you, Even if you don’t show up, I will wait for you, It could be my irrationality)

Laila opens the toilet door and joins Abdul at the dinner table.

Abdul: How was your meeting with Lakshmi madam?

Laila: Great! They have selected me over many applicants including that bloody conniving Sanjeev Bhatt.

Abdul: But he's IPS isn't he?

Laila: Yes, but they have chosen me over him. I have to report to camp in a week.

Abdul: What? Why and for how long?

Laila: You know it is a secret assignment and I will get to train at the top secret Pax Indica Centre. Lakshmi Madam has personally assured me that after this assignment I can retire at 35 with Secretary level pension.

Abdul: And have you said yes?

Laila: This is my one last assignment and soon we will get a pension for life and I will be home to care for you and Sana. From then on you can choose your assignments and your shitty boss can go to hell.

Abdul: Do I have a say in this at all?

Laila: It's for us Abdul! Sana, you and me! Trust me one last time!

===End of Chapter 1

Would Corporations control World’s Opinions?

 

Modi govt is answerable to farmers, not the judiciary. SC’s mediation beyond its remit

 Yogendra Yadav in The Print

In rejecting the Supreme Court-appointed expert committee to mediate between farmers and the Narendra Modi government, the farmers’ organisations have not only wisely sidestepped a possible trap, but they have also reaffirmed a basic principle of democratic accountability and responsible governance.

Let there be no confusion about it. The expert committee appointed by the SC is not meant to advise the court on technical matters of agricultural marketing or on the implications of the disputed agricultural laws. The order of the Supreme Court makes it clear that the committee is to facilitate negotiations between the government and farmers’ organisations: “The negotiations between the farmers’ bodies and the government have not yielded any result so far. Therefore, we are of the view that the constitution of a committee of experts in the field of agriculture to negotiate between the farmers’ bodies and the government of India may create a congenial atmosphere and improve the trust and confidence of the farmers.”

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The court goes on to specify that the committee has been “constituted for the purpose of listening to the grievances of the farmers relating to the farm laws and the views of the government and to make recommendations.” Presumably, the committee will try to find a middle ground and advise the government on how the laws should be tinkered with in a way so as to satisfy both the government and the protesting farmers.

That is precisely why the farmers’ organisations had resisted, right from the beginning, the idea of any such committee. They have objected to being forced into binding mediation, questioned the instrument of a committee and suspected the composition of such a committee. On all three counts, their assessment has been proven right.

Beyond remit

First of all, the farmers have been suspicious of being pushed into binding mediations that they never asked for or consented to.

They have never said no to negotiations with the government. Sure, the talks with the government have been frustrating. The Modi government has been intransigent. Yet, that is the only site for negotiations in a democracy. In the last instance, elected representatives are there to speak to the people. They are accountable to the people and to the farmers. The courts are there to adjudicate between right and wrong, legal and illegal. The courts are not there to engage in give and take, which is a crucial part of any negotiation. That is why the courts are responsible to the Constitution and not accountable to the people. That is the logic of democratic governance. Any attempt to shift the site of negotiation from the government to the judiciary amounts to overturning this basic democratic logic.

The government’s keenness to shift this “headache” and the Supreme Court’s alacrity to take over has strengthened the resistance of the farmers. It needs to be underlined that the protesting farmers did not approach the court. Nor did the government, at least not on paper. The initial petitioners were third parties who wanted the court to evict the farmers from their protest site. The other set of petitioners questioned the constitutionality of the three laws and wanted these scrapped. None of the petitioners prayed for mediation from the court. Yet, from day one, that is what the court was interested in. The court dismissed, rightly so, the pleas asking for eviction of the protesting farmers. It recognised, again rightly so, the democratic rights of the farmers to engage in peaceful protest. As for the pleas, regarding the constitutional validity of the three laws, the court put this on the back burner saying that it will consider these at an appropriate time.

The Supreme Court could have expedited this process by setting a time frame within which it will decide upon the constitutional validity of these three laws. That would have been most appropriate. But it chose not to do so. Instead, the court chose to focus on a third issue beyond what was asked for by any party and beyond its legal remit. Farmers’ organisations were smart enough to resist this move from the beginning.

 Technocrats can’t mediate

The second objection of the farmers’ organisations was to the very mechanism of a technical committee of experts. This idea was proposed by the Modi government in the very first round of negotiations held on 1 December, and the farmers rejected it there and then. Such a committee would be very useful to clarify a point of law, or to work out policy or fiscal implications of the proposed laws. Such a committee could also help work out the details of a compromise formula, once the basic framework is agreed to. But a technical committee cannot possibly work out the basic framework itself. Mediation is not done by technocrats. It is done by non-specialists who have some familiarity with the subject, but more importantly, who enjoy the trust and confidence of both parties. The Supreme Court-appointed committee of experts was never going to be that mechanism.

Dushyant Dave and the other three lawyers representing just eight out of 400+ farmers’ organisations involved in this protest were wise to keep away from the court’s deliberations on this issue.

 A partisan committee

Finally, a committee is only as good as its members. It is no secret that the farmers’ organisations were apprehensive about the composition of a committee appointed by the court. The court’s order confirmed their worst fears. The process by which the court arrived at these four names left a lot to be desired, to put it mildly. The same court that chided the government for passing the farm laws without consulting the farmers adopted an even less transparent process to decide upon this committee. Names like P. Sainath and ex-CJIs were thrown around and quietly dispensed with. No one knows who suggested the four names. Little surprise then that the four names have invited disappointment and ridicule. Not because the four members are not respectable, but because these are arguably the four best advocates for the government’s position and the laws. That the court chose such a partisan committee to mediate between the farmers and the government has cast a shadow on itself.

Someone might ask: Forget the technicalities, but what’s wrong with the top court stepping in to resolve a deadlock? Well, that is possible provided the Supreme Court were to enjoy moral authority over and above its legal and constitutional powers. Such moral authority is commanded, not demanded.