Voters can be convinced China is defeated, but how do you convince jobless they’re earning?

Yogendra Yadav in The Print

It must have been hard for Nirmala Sitharaman. With all her sharp mind, sharper tongue and sharpest sense of political opportunity, it wouldn’t have been easy to manage the Narendra Modi government’s budget for 2022-23.

After all, she happens to be the finance minister of an economy fast approaching 5 trillion dollars GDP while the income of 80 per cent of the families to whom she was presenting the budget, has been declining for two years now. Most of them have had to dip into their savings or take out loans, just to survive. Unemployment is at its peak, triggering job riots in Uttar Pradesh and Bihar the week before.

Small-scale businesspersons — her party BJP’s traditional supporters — are in a bad shape, unable to recover from the triple whammy of demonetisation, GST, and lockdown. Besides, this budget was to be the moment of glory for the much-touted “doubling of farmers’ income” promise, which now seems only a few light years away, beyond the newly discovered ‘Amrit Kaal’. 

Managing the art of hiding in plain sight

The finance minister also had the unenviable challenge of hiding a little elephant. The-elephant-that-must-not-be-named. As practically everyone’s income and wealth were suffering a decline, a prodigious child of Bharat Mata managed to defy all odds — the economic meltdown as well as the pandemic-induced lockdown — and emerge as glorious as Sitharaman made all of us feel in her budget speech. But why not? As the pandemic struck, this little elephant’s empire was worth Rs 66,000 crore. By the time the finance minister was presenting her budget, the same empire had grown to a little more than Rs 6.75 lakh crore. Another jewel in Bharat Mata’s crown is that the combined wealth of India’s top 100 billionaire families was one and a half times the size of the budget she was planning to present.

Then there were some minor money matters to be sorted. This was a little tricky, but nothing that could not be managed by a fine budget speech. Even before the pandemic had struck, the Modi government had been spending a few more trillions than it could earn. The Reserve Bank of India (RBI) had already been ‘robbed’ by the government, leaving little space to dip into. The finance minister even tried hard to sell the country’s property, but that also seems to not have earned much. And of course, taxing the rich was ruled out. The only option was to borrow further. But the interest payment on previous borrowings was already one-fifth of the entire expenditure.

As if all this was not enough, Sitharaman was placed in a country with “too much democracy” and “free” media . Perceptions have to be managed. People have to be managed. Orders have to be followed.

We must thank God for Economics and English. They make for such a lovely couple. Their charm obviates the bother of having to explain what goes on in the business of economy to those whose life it affects. Thankfully, though most of them consumed the information in one of the Indian languages, neither the budget nor the commentaries were thought through in those languages. English creates knowledge about the economy. Other languages disseminate this wisdom. English takes your attention away from the wretched everyday world of the ordinary people; they make a guest appearance in their costumes, just as ‘emerging economies’ do at Davos. The jargon of economics puts a gloss on the most painful and humiliating experience. 

Be grateful, for you have support of lackeys

Nirmala Sitharaman must be grateful to the media. Ever since the Union Budget became a television spectacle, the more content is generated about the economy, the less we understand it. A small club of businessmen, all in awe or need or fear of the government, represent the economy. An even  smaller club of English-speaking economists, mostly sarkari and darbari, or representing a business interest, represent knowledge about the economy. Thank God we have never heard of conflict of interest. And a set of anchors, ignorant or compromised or both, act as interlocutors. It makes for a perfect setting for a theatre of power.

No one makes much of a mismatch between the text of the budget speech and the numbers in the budget document, between past promises and present performance, between claims and truth. Remember the time when the Economic Survey numbers contradicted the data presented in the budget the very next day? Or the spontaneous manner in which the finance minister made up pandemic relief package figures on a daily basis? Or her imperious silence on the doubling of farmers’ income this year?

This is the theatre of power where everyone else feels awkward on the finance minister’s behalf, bending over backwards to find assumptions, theories and rationale underlying a series of disconnected assertions. If all of this is not enough to fill air time, the finance minister’s speech has a lot more — drones for farmers, old schemes renamed, old promises reinvented, acronyms – all that stuff which passes for news.

Democracies always have some trouble-makers. Like ours has the irreverent Ravish Kumar, the acerbic Rathin Roy or the predictable Jayati Ghosh. Thank God, there are enough trustworthy voices in the media to sideline such outliers. A few phone calls in the afternoon can tweak the agenda for evening panel discussion. And not to forget the ideologues who would remind you that creating jobs is not the job of the government, who can be trusted to rubbish the idea of taxing the super-rich.

Well, the media can be managed and more than half the job is done, but then comes the problem of political management. Now it certainly does seem to be ‘too much democracy’. There are voters to be persuaded and elections to be won. Here, Sitharaman needs something more than good English and bad Economics. TV channels can help you convince a voter that India has battered Chinese forces in Ladakh, but how do you convince an unemployed person that she is earning wages? How do you convince a farmer that their income has doubled? For that, you might have missed, we have a sharp political strategy and an even sharper electoral machine.

Uttar Pradesh is a case in point. The finance minister would certainly have had to announce something major for farmers or the unemployed youth, but thankfully that is not what this election is about. This election is about ‘Mr Jinnah’, the temples in Ayodhya and Varanasi and the “gunda raj” during the Samajwadi Party’s regime. Simple recipe: keep the Hindu-Muslim pot boiling, use money-media-muscle to stitch a careful caste coalition and let your good English take care of the bad economics. And if matters go out of hand, you can always throw in some additional ration and cash transfers.

Ain’t that tough? Like every TV expert, I must bow my head to Nirmala Sitharaman for managing a very difficult task. Final score? 8 out of 10, I guess.

India Supreme Court on Reservations in Promotions

 

The paradox that leads professionals into temptation

 Andrew Hill in The FT

Before her first ward-round as a medical student, Sunita Sah watched as the consultant leading the group stuffed his pockets with branded pens and notepads from a hospital cart piled with drug company freebies. 

Noting her astonishment, he remarked, “these are the only perks of the job”, and continued to stock up. “I couldn’t help but think: ‘What’s the end-effect of this?’” Sah told me. 

She found part of the answer to that question when she moved from medicine into management consulting and started analysing how every interaction between healthcare companies and doctors had an impact on their prescribing habits. 

Now a professor at Cornell University and an honorary fellow at Cambridge’s Judge Business School, Sah has filled in more gaps with a new study that sheds light on the dark side of professionalism and how to avoid it. 

Her findings are stark and surprising. The greater a manager’s sense of professionalism, the more likely he or she is to accept a gift or bribe. Worse, high-minded professionals may be more susceptible to unconscious bias towards gift-givers, precisely because they are convinced they think they know how to ignore their blandishments. 

“I NEVER turn down something for free that I know isn’t going to kill me!” retorted one manager in response to Sah’s survey. “A free lunch from someone? Go for it! If the guy is fool enough to think his free lunch/dinner/use of cabin, etc, is going to influence me, he doesn’t know me at all! People don’t influence me beyond what I, and I alone, allow!” 

In the study for the Academy of Management Perspectives, Sah equates this “professionalism paradox” to the Dunning-Kruger effect, according to which poor performers lack even the ability to recognise their own hopelessness. 

Sah’s study is based on surveys of managers, but some of the pernicious real-world effects of her paradox are clear. In the extreme case of the opioid epidemic, books such as Empire of Pain and Dopesick (now also a television series) have chronicled the way respected physicians were dragged into the overprescription of painkillers after receiving free gifts and conference invitations from manufacturer Purdue Pharma. 

Yet their ability to self-regulate against conflicts of interest is still many professionals’ first line of defence when watchdogs and legislators start threatening to curb their autonomy with new rules. 

One problem is that we are all professionals now. The term used to be almost the exclusive domain of lawyers, doctors, teachers, accountants, and others who had laboriously acquired specialist knowledge, shown integrity, and deserved an elevated status. Now the same status is loosely claimed by everyone from salespeople to, yes, journalists. The currency has been debased. 

In law, behaving professionally and ethically is “part of your training, it’s part of your identity, it’s what makes you tick — which isn’t necessarily true elsewhere”, David Morley, former senior partner at Allen & Overy, says. But the head of a professional services firm adds that professionalism “can’t be an excuse or a cover story” for a lack of underlying principles. 

These senior leaders are describing the difference between what Sah calls “deep” and “shallow” professionalism. 

Deep professionals should recognise the risk of undue influence and avoid exposing themselves to it in the first place. Her parallel is Odysseus plugging his ears with wax to avoid falling for the sirens’ song, or, more prosaically, managers who decline all gifts, rather than relying on a corporate threshold to protect them. It is “easier for individuals to rationalise and morally disengage the acceptance of [small] gifts”, Sah writes, or even to stop noticing them altogether. 

Deep professionals should embrace continued ethical training, to help embed principles, and embrace an understanding that they may be prone to bribes and influence-seeking. They should also continue to practise their values, just as a concert pianist goes on rehearsing scales. 

Professionalism “isn’t an individual characteristic, or a feeling”, says Sah. Instead, she would like to redefine it as “repeated behavioural practices that demonstrate a deep understanding of the concept”, backed by appropriate rules and codes. In that form, anyone can aspire to deep professionalism. 

“The law as a profession doesn’t give you some status or standing: you have to earn that,” the senior partner of another law firm told me. “We shy away from [the attitude] ‘It’s OK, we’re professionals’.” In fact, professionals who catch themselves saying or thinking anything similar should be on their guard. They may be in the ethical shallows and about to run aground.  

Njan Prakashan in Punjab

 

The Left has Failed; Capitalism morphs into Techno-Feudalism

 

The failure of liberal democracy and the rise of China’s way

Eric Li in The Economist

ALARM BELLS are ringing about the state of democracy. Freedom House proclaims the “global decline in democracy has accelerated” and that even in America it has “declined significantly”. Much of the weakening is happening in countries that are aligned with America, according to research by the V-Dem Institute in Sweden. Larry Diamond, a political sociologist, argues that the “democratic recession” has reached a “crisis”, intensified by the pandemic. There are many diagnoses. Francis Fukuyama, a political scientist, believes the American government is captured by elites and the public is divided by cultural identities. And then there are those who always reach for the easy answer, blaming China and Russia.

On the other side of the spectrum, democracy’s sceptics are enjoying a moment of Schadenfreude. Russia’s foreign minister, Sergei Lavrov, recently criticised the West’s failed attempts to “enforce democracy” on other countries whose cultures were ill fitted for such political systems and called on them to stop. Kishore Mahbubani, a Singaporean diplomat and scholar, believes America has in some ways “all the attributes of a failed state.” A decade ago even I weighed in, arguing that China’s model is superior to the West—a smug way of saying democracy is doomed.

Yet these pronouncements miss the mark because they share a flawed definition of democracy. To be more precise, they mistakenly equate liberalism with democracy, thereby rendering liberal democracy the only form of democratic governance. This is wrong.

In 1992, at the end of the cold war and beginning of a golden era for liberal democracy’s universalisation, Lord Bhikhu Parekh, a political theorist, wrote in an essay, “The Cultural Particularity of Liberal Democracy”, that “liberal democracy is liberalised democracy: that is, democracy defined and structured within the limits set by liberalism.” This combination, he noted, was crystallised around the 18th century in Europe and was widely championed in practice by the West only after the second world war as a way of opposing the Soviet Union. Democracy itself, in its earliest Western incarnation in ancient Greece, long preceded liberalism.

Moreover, in combination, liberalism was the dominant partner and democracy was subjugated. In fact, liberalism was hostile to democracy. The development of liberal institutions over the past two to three centuries has in many ways consisted of attempts at limiting the power of democracy. If we are to be historically accurate and intellectually honest, we need to recognise that liberal democracy is but one kind of democracy.

During the European Enlightenment, liberal thinkers such as Locke, Montesquieu and Mill proposed revolutionary ideas about how human societies should be governed based on the tenets of liberalism, such as the individual as the fundamental unit of society, the sanctity of private property and the primacy of procedural rule of law. Most modern liberal political institutions were developed with these ideas—representative government based on elections, separation of powers, freedom of the press, an independent judiciary and so on. They are fundamental to America’s constitution and to most other liberal societies.

But at the same time, many liberal forefathers also recognised that the goal of liberal institutions is to deliver happiness to the people. If that outcome is not met, procedures must be changed. According to Mill, even access to voting could be curtailed, say, if a citizen were illiterate.

Liberal democracy had enormous successes, notably in the second half of the 20th century. During that period, liberal democratic countries delivered unprecedented prosperity to their people—so much so that many countries, including China, sought to emulate many of the West’s practices, such as market economics. However when groups like Freedom House and V-Dem rank countries on their levels of democracy, it in essence measures countries on how closely they follow liberal institutional procedures. When people say democracy is receding in many countries, they really mean liberalism is in trouble.

Why is liberalism in bad shape? The reason is that in many places it seems to be failing its junior partner—democracy. Liberal democracy is in crisis mode because so many of these countries face severe problems: persistent inequality, political corruption, collapse of social cohesion, lack of trust in government and elite institutions, and incompetent government. In short, liberalism has been failing to deliver democratic outcomes.

In the Soviet Union there was a popular joke: “We pretend to work, they pretend to pay us.” In many liberal societies, people can turn that around: “We pretend to vote, they pretend to govern.” At this rate, the word “liberal” may soon no longer deserve to be followed by “democracy”.

A broader view of governance

The world needs a better and more inclusive way of evaluating democracy. Defining and measuring democracy by liberal procedures is way too narrow—historically, conceptually and under contemporary conditions. In ancient Greece, when democracy was first practised in the West, democratic politics was rather illiberal. There was no concept of individual or minority rights. That was why Plato and Aristotle—no democrats, both—criticised its majoritarian nature. Elections were not the only way of selecting leaders. Sortition—choosing leaders by lottery—was widely practised and fit Aristotle’s definition of democracy.

In the contemporary West, populist movements from the right and socialist activism on the left seem to be, at least in part, attempts to hold liberalism accountable for not delivering on outcomes. Looking at democracy anew is no easy task and will no doubt take a lot of work and debate. But I venture to propose a common-sense idea: let’s measure democracy not by procedures but by outcomes.

Democracy’s normative goal must be to deliver satisfaction to a vast majority of people over a long period. What good are elections if they keep producing poor leaders with the public stuck in perpetual cycles of “elect and regret”? What good is an independent judiciary if it only protects the rich? What good is separation of powers if it is captured by special interests to block necessary reforms? What good is freedom of the press, or freedom of speech for that matter, if it corrodes societies with division and dysfunction? What good are individual rights if they result in millions of avoidable deaths, as has happened in many liberal democracies during the pandemic?

In its attempt to challenge a rising China, America’s president, Joe Biden, frames this competition as a starkly ideological dichotomy of democracy versus autocracy. With that in mind, the administration is hosting a gathering of democracies on December 9th and 10th, to which some 110 countries or regions invited. A review shows that these 111 places (with the US included) consist of around 56% of the world’s population but had cumulative covid-19 deaths of 4.2m, which is 82% of the world’s total. More glaringly, the three countries with the highest deaths are the host country (780,000), which boasts of being the oldest democracy, Brazil (615,000) and India (470,000), which relishes being the largest democracy.

As for the seeming target of the gathering, China, it has 1.4bn people and just 5,697 deaths from covid-19.

Some may object that this was because China restricted freedoms more than “democracies”. But what kind of democracy would sacrifice millions of lives for some individuals’ freedom not to wear masks? It is precisely in this way that liberal democracy is failing its citizens.

Perhaps it is possible to develop a set of measurements that show which countries are generating more democratic outcomes. How satisfied are most people with their countries’ leadership and directions? How cohesive is society? Are people living better than before? Are people optimistic about their future? Is society as a whole investing enough to ensure the well-being of future generations? Beyond the narrow and procedural-centric liberal definition of democracy, outcomes must be taken into consideration when we define and evaluate democracies.

I would suggest that when it comes to outcomes, China doesn’t score so badly. The country has its problems—inequality, corruption and environmental degradation to name a few. But the government has been tackling them aggressively.

This is probably why a vast majority of Chinese people tell pollsters that they are generally satisfied with how the country is being governed. Can we at least now entertain the idea that China is generating more productive and democratic outcomes for its people and, measured by these concrete results, its political system is more democratic than that of the United States, albeit different, at the moment?

Abraham Lincoln characterised democracy in the most eloquent layman’s term: government of the people, by the people, for the people. I dare say that the current Chinese government outperforms America on all three. Chinese people overwhelmingly believe their government belongs to them and they live in a democracy; and it is a fact that a vast majority of China’s political leaders come from ordinary backgrounds. Quite to the contrary, many Americans seem to believe that their government is captured by monied interests and formed by an elite oligarchy. As for the last part, “for the people”, China is way ahead on outcomes.

The world needs greater diversity in the concept of democracy that is both historically truer (because democracy was not always liberal) and practically more beneficial. Many developing countries have seen their economic growth stagnate. They need to be unshackled from the ideological rigidity of the liberal doctrine and to experiment with their own ways of realising their democratic potential. New perspectives and measurements might help liberal societies as well.

Decoupling liberal democracy

For too long, liberalism has monopolised the concept of democracy and liberals have taken their democratic credentials for granted. This may be one cause for why many liberal governments are failing to deliver democratic outcomes for their people. Being measured not on procedures but on actual performance may be just the spur for liberal countries to implement much-needed reforms. If liberal governments could again deliver more democratic outcomes, so much the better for the world.

This perspective, on the need to judge democracy by its outcomes, is rarely discussed in global debates over governance. Liberal societies champion diversity in just about everything except for diversity in models of democracy, even at a conceptual level. But the reality is that the history of democratic aspirations and practices has been immensely rich and diverse. Besides Athenian democracy being decidedly not liberal, there were centuries of democratic ideals and institutional practices in China’s Confucian tradition—also not liberal. At this point in time, the world is certainly in need of more democratic experiments.

I am not attempting to advocate any particular form of democracy, and certainly am not making a case for majoritarian or direct democracy—which China is definitely not. Rather, I am proposing to broaden and pluralise both the definition and measurements of democracy. China’s current socialist democracy is surely a model worthy of study given the country’s obvious successes.

The American foreign-policy thinker Anne-Marie Slaughter recently argued that the United States should “accept at least the possibility that other forms of government could be better.” She further suggested, as a new measure of governance, that people evaluate which countries are doing a good job at achieving the United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goals.

It is a great idea. And the broader point needs to be amplified: end liberalism’s monopoly on democracy—and let more forms of democracy flourish.

Ian Hislop and UK's MPs and corruption