"Democracy is bad for India"

Former Justice Markandey Katju

Opposition parties in India have joined hands and are crying themselves hoarse in condemning Rahul Gandhi’s conviction and expulsion from Parliament as a huge assault on democracy. Many of the ‘liberal’ mediapersons and so called ‘intellectuals’ in India have also joined the chorus condemning the ‘murder’ of Indian democracy.

One sees hardly any other news in the Indian media nowadays.

However, these people proceed on the assumption that democracy is a good thing in India, which needs to be protected. But is this assumption correct ?

I submit that democracy, like freedom, may in some countries and in some circumstances be a good thing, but in others may be a bad thing, and one should not make a fetish or a holy cow out of it.

I submit that in India democracy is a bad thing, which has kept us backward, and therefore poor. Let me explain.

Everyone who has even a little knowledge of Indian realities knows that in India democracy runs largely on the basis of caste and communal vote banks. Casteism and communalism are feudal forces which have to be destroyed if India is to progress, but parliamentary democracy further entrenches them. How then can India progress with democracy ?

Most of our people have backward mindsets, full of casteism, communalism, and superstitions. Democracy means rule of the majority, but the majority of Indians have feudal mindsets. How can rule by them or their representatives take the country forward ? How can building a Ram temple in Ayodhya or cow protection solve India’s massive problems of poverty, unemployment, hunger, price rise, lack of healthcare etc ?

In my opinion to move forward we have to have an enlightened dictatorship led by modern minded leaders, like Mustafa Kemal of Turkey in the 1920s, or the leaders who came to power in Japan after the Meiji Restoration of 1868, and rapidly industrialised the country.

The Opposition parties in India, even if they unite or form an alliance in next year’s parliamentary elections, have no vision about how to take the country forward. In fact they have nothing in common except the desire to oust the BJP. Even if they win the elections and come to power, the first thing they will do is to scramble for lucrative portfolios.

Thereafter, too, they will keep jostling and infighting, like the constituents of the Janta Party which came to power in 1977, and eventually broke up over internal infighting in 1979.

And what is there in Rahul Gandhi, apart from being a member of the self-proclaimed India’s ‘royal family’? Has he any ideas how to solve India’s massive problems? He has none. All he knows is how to do stunts like the Bharat Jodo Yatra.

Why then should one have any sympathy for him?

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Ofsted Rating Grades and The Consequences For Teaching

 Lucy Kellaway in The FT 

Last Monday a primary school headteacher took to Twitter and declared that Ofsted inspectors, who were due the next day, would not be let in. She invited teachers everywhere to join a protest in solidarity with Ruth Perry, the primary head who recently took her own life — her family attribute it to an Ofsted inspection that downgraded her school from outstanding to inadequate. 

Though the mass protest was called off and the inspectors duly admitted, the verdict online was damning and unanimous. End inspections! End Ofsted! — everything teachers are angry about seems to be crystallised in the tragic death. 

That morning I was in the cinema at a local shopping centre with my A-level students for a spot of business studies revision. On the screen was a question. Which was the odd one out: a) salary b) working conditions c) supervision or d) meaningful work? 

Most went for meaningful work, recognising that the others were “hygiene factors”, identified by the American psychologist Frederick Herzberg as basic requirements which, if inadequate, demotivate us and make us want to quit. Meaningful work, by contrast, is a motivator — it makes us try harder. 

So here we were: my colleague and I surrounded by teenagers in leggings and hoodies on a happy, productive day out, living proof of that motivator. Like every teacher I’ve ever met, we enjoy being with our charges (most of them, most of the time). We think helping them learn is as meaningful as a job can be. 

Yet the profession is in a sorry state. According to new figures from the NFER research body, recruitment is at least 20 per cent below target in many subjects, with vacancies running at twice pre-Covid levels. Worse, almost half of existing teachers are planning an exit within five years. 

The hygiene factors are all worsening simultaneously. Cuts in real pay and impossible workloads have brought teachers out on strike. Budget cuts in other services have left vulnerable children all but unsupported, turning us into de facto social workers. This inspection crisis seems like the last straw. 

On joining the profession I was taught to fear Ofsted. In previous schools I filled in endless curriculum spreadsheets in precisely the way the inspectorate is believed to favour — no opposition brooked — and watched supervisors trudge home every weekend to complete “Ofsted-ready” folders. I’ve lived through “mocksteds” — expensive, stressful and even more vicious than the real thing — designed to reassure stressed-out school leaders that they are prepared. 

In my current school, that call came not so long ago: Ofsted inspectors were on their way. At lunchtime one of my sixth-formers asked why her teachers were acting so oddly. Because we feel our jobs are on the line, I wanted to say. Because if we get the same treatment as Ms Perry, it will be a disaster for the school. Because we feel judged, on the back foot and exhausted — but are trying our best. 

I daresay I was acting pretty peculiar as the inspector stationed himself at the back of my class and started taking notes in an unnervingly deadpan fashion. In the end, it was without mishap. The process felt professional, the questions reasonable and the feedback fair. With hindsight, it strikes me the fear and loathing stems less from the inspection itself, than from the nonsense of summarising a complex school in a single grade — with so much at stake. 

Creating intense competition between schools may (or may not) have raised standards for students. But in many schools it has made life grim for teachers, especially senior ones. Schools bust a gut to have the best Ofsted grades and top the league tables, but those that make it can be unbearable places to work: hierarchical, workaholic factories. 

In these feted schools, where students get dazzling exam results, the teachers who quit are often not the worst, but the best. The more they are promoted, the more they are in the line of fire. A brilliant young teacher I trained with said recently that she envied me — not because of my inimitable teaching style, but because of my steadfast position on the bottom rung of the career ladder. I’m too junior to be much affected by Ofsted or bear responsibility for things outside my control. I am not entirely dependent on my teaching salary so can afford to resist the pay rise that comes with promotion. I’m largely immune from the hygiene factors — and left free to enjoy teaching average rate of return to my Year 11s. 

Changing hygiene factors is hard. The government is not fond of finding extra money. Reducing workload isn’t easy either. But sweeping away the Ofsted grades would allow teachers to remind themselves why they joined the profession: for the sake of their wonderful (and maddening) students, not a badge that says “outstanding”.

The Only Function of Economic Forecasting Is To Make Astrology Look Respectable

 Tim Harford in The FT 

Economist Ezra Solomon once quipped that “the only function of economic forecasting is to make astrology look respectable”. I’m not sure if the astrologer “Mystic Meg” was ever respectable, but she was certainly much loved. “Britain’s most famous astrologer by a million miles,” said her agent, after her recent death prompted an outpouring of affectionate recollections about her campy image and her arch forecasts about the National Lottery, praised both for their brilliant accuracy and sheer absurdity. 

It seems hard to imagine that an economic forecaster will ever earn such valedictions. But many economic pundits seem to have been taking lessons from astrologers. Consider this horoscope: “The balance of risks remains tilted to the downside, but adverse risks have moderated . . . On the upside, a stronger boost from pent-up demand in numerous economies or a faster fall in inflation are plausible. On the downside, severe health outcomes in China could hold back the recovery . . . ” 

That pretty much covers everything: good news, bad news, more inflation, disinflation. In case you’re wondering, it’s the latest World Economic Outlook from the IMF. But that sort of “rainbow forecast” is typical of the genre. 

Forecasting expert Philip E Tetlock, in his 2005 book Expert Political Judgement, noted that expert pundits had a tendency to make vague forecasts, and to excuse error as “erring on the side of caution” or being wrong only on timing. 

If so, those experts are treading a well-worn path. Consider the following statements: “You have a great need for other people to like and admire you.” “You have a tendency to be critical of yourself.” “While you have some personality weaknesses, you are generally able to compensate for them.” 

They sound like the kind of thing a clairvoyant might say after gazing into a crystal ball, but these statements are from an academic paper, “The Fallacy of Personal Validation”, published in 1949 by psychologist Bertram Forer. 

After getting his students to fill out a diagnostic questionnaire, Forer handed each of them a written assessment of their traits. The students believed the assessments were uniquely tailored on the basis of the questionnaire. But, in fact, each student got the same list of 13 statements, including the three above. The students felt the diagnostic had done an excellent job, and the vast majority agreed with at least 10 out of 13 statements. When the deception was revealed, wrote Forer, “they burst into laughter”. These “Forer statements” — also sometimes called “Barnum statements” after showman PT Barnum — can feel uncannily specific. Most people don’t realise that they are almost universal. 

In defence of economic forecasters, including the IMF, Barnumesque verbiage is traditionally accompanied by specific falsifiable numerical predictions. Surely, the real incorrigibles are the economics columnists. We’ll blithely hand-wave about risks and opportunities which may or may not manifest. And like Mystic Meg, we’re kept around only because people find our prognostications entertaining. 

The parallels should be no surprise. Walter Friedman’s history of economic forecasting, Fortune Tellers, explains that clairvoyants and economic forecasters started from a similar place. Evangeline Adams and Roger Babson were near contemporaries, born in the US in 1868 and 1875 respectively. Both offered investment advice in general and stock market forecasts in particular. Both were in high demand, and both died rich. The chief difference was that Adams was an astrologer, while Babson offered data-driven forecasts inspired by ideas from physics. 

Babson’s forecasting ideas look very strange today. He was a huge fan of Isaac Newton: he purchased and moved the parlour of Newton’s house from London to Massachusetts, funded research into antigravity, and his forecasting ideas are full of misappropriated Newtonian physics. His “Babsonchart” was built around the Newtonish idea that each boom above the trend was followed by an equal and opposite bust below. With hindsight, this was true by definition when Babson plotted the trend line in the right place. Alas, it offered little predictive power beyond generalities. 

Still, generalities will get you a long way. Babson’s reputation as a forecaster was secured when, on September 5 1929, a few weeks before the great crash, he opined, “sooner or later a crash is coming which will . . . cause a decline of from 60 to 80 points in the Dow-Jones Barometer”. Impressive. 

What is less impressive is that those gloomy forecasts began years earlier, in 1926, after which the Dow more than doubled. The crash was vastly bigger than Babson had predicted, and it continued long after Babson started predicting a recovery. 

No matter. Shortly after the crash began, Babson ran an advert in The New York Times announcing that “Babson clients were prepared” and he still gets credit for predicting the crash. Aficionados of clairvoyancy will recognise some similarities here. If you want to be admired for your forecasts, temper your bold claims with vagueness and be sure to trumpet the successes and downplay the failures. 

No sooner had Mystic Meg’s death been announced than The Sun, which published her column, was explaining that her final horoscope was a “sweet prediction” that she would be reunited in the afterlife with an old flame who died in a car crash in 1977. “Leo: It can be the most routine of routine journeys that takes you towards your soulmate.” 

For those readers willing to swallow the idea that death itself is “the most routine of routine journeys”, it’s a startling piece of prescience. For the rest of us, it’s audacious silliness. Mystic Meg would have been proud.

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From SVB to the BBC: why did no one see the crisis coming?

Michael Skapinker in The FT  

Silicon Valley Bank collapses after its investments in long-dated bonds made it vulnerable to interest rate rises. The BBC is thrown into chaos after suspending its top football pundit and colleagues abandon their posts in solidarity. JPMorgan Chase suffers reputational damage and lawsuits after keeping sex offender Jeffrey Epstein on as a client for five years after he pleaded guilty to soliciting prostitution, including from a minor. 

In all these cases, we can ask, as Queen Elizabeth II did on a visit to the London School of Economics during the global financial crisis in 2008: “Why did no one see it coming?” 

Did anyone in the BBC’s leadership ask whether, if they suspended Gary Lineker from presenting its top Saturday night football programme Match of the Day, other pundits might walk out too? Did SVB run through the risks attached to its investment policies if interest rates rose faster than expected? And why did JPMorgan accede to senior banker Jes Staley’s desire to keep Epstein on? These are dramatic examples of what can go wrong, but any organisation that fails to keep its possible risks under regular review could go the same way. 

All too often senior managers fail to consider the worst-case scenario. Why don’t they listen to doubters? 

Amy Edmondson, a professor at Harvard Business School, says sometimes it is because there are no doubters. Leadership groups become so locked into a “shared myth” that they ignore any suggestions they might be wrong. “We’ve got the well-known confirmation bias where we are predisposed to pick up signals, data, evidence that reinforce our current belief. And we will be filtering out disconfirming evidence,” she says. 

It is like taking the wrong route in a car. “You’re on the highway driving somewhere and you’re heading in the wrong direction, but you don’t know it until you’re just hit over the head by disconfirming data that you can’t miss: you suddenly cross a state line that you didn’t expect to cross.” 

This groupthink and confirmation bias is prevalent in the wider society, where people leap on any evidence to support their view on, for example, climate change, Edmonson says. “Oh my gosh, this is the coldest winter ever. What do you mean global warming?” 

In many cases, there are doubters, but they are either reluctant to raise their voices or, when they do, colleagues hesitate to join them. At JPMorgan, there were questions about Epstein. An internal email in 2010 asked: “Are you still comfortable with this client who is now a registered sex offender?” 

James Detert, a professor at the University of Virginia’s Darden School of Business, says evolution has hard-wired us not to deviate from our group. “If you think about our time on earth as a species, for most of it we lived in very small clans, bands, tribes, and our daily struggle was for survival, both around food security and physical safety. In that environment, if you were ostracised, you were going to die. There was no solo living in those days.” 

We carry this fear of being cast out into our workplaces, compounded by the experience of whistleblowers, who sometimes suffer retribution from their employers and are shunned by colleagues. Dissenters present their colleagues with an uncomfortable choice: either to view themselves as cowards for not speaking up too, or to regard the rebel as “some kind of crackpot”. The second is often easier. 

Isn’t the Lineker saga a counter-example? His colleagues supported him, forcing the BBC to quickly see how badly it had miscalculated. Detert says this was an unusual case. Celebrated footballers-turned-commentators are brands themselves, Lineker in particular. The BBC realised how much it needed him, and how easily he could have secured a contract with a rival. Usually, he says, rebels find themselves isolated. 

So what can leaders do to encourage doubters to speak up, to ensure they consider all the possible downsides of their strategies, and escape eventual humiliation or disaster? Detert is not a fan of appointing a “devil’s advocate” who is tasked with giving a contrary view. It is often clear that they are simply going through the motions. He prefers what he calls “joint evaluation”. As well as the preferred policy — investing in long-dated bonds, for example — senior managers should draw up a distinctively different policy and compare the two. This is more likely to show up the flaws in the preferred strategy. 

Simon Walker, whose roles have included head of communications at British Airways and spokesman for Queen Elizabeth, and Sue Williams, Scotland Yard’s former chief kidnap and hostage negotiator, told me at an event organised by the Financial Times’ business networking organisation, that leaders should involve every function from communications to legal to HR when examining possible future crises. Detert agrees this can be valuable, provided the presence of often under-regarded departments such as HR is taken seriously. 

Leaders’ behaviour is a signal of whether they want staff to speak up. Edmondson says: “Leaders of organisations have to go out of their way to invite the dissenting view, the missed risk. Before we close down any conversation where there’s a decision, we need to say, without fail: ‘What are we missing?’ We say: ‘OK, let’s just say we’re wrong about this and it goes badly awry, what would have explained it?’” She recommends calling on people by name, asking what their thoughts are. 

Detert adds that office design can signal to staff that their thoughts are welcome: the leader sitting in open plan, or having bright stripes on the floor indicating the way to their office, or sitting at square tables without place names rather than at rectangular ones where their seat position makes it obvious they are in charge. 

How relevant are these workplace layouts when, post-lockdown, employees no longer come into the office every day? “That’s the $10mn question,” Detert says. On the one hand, remote working might be making it harder for leaders to read the signs that people are uneasy with a strategy. On the other, it could be that people find it easier to speak out from their own homes. They may also feel that other aspects of their lives, such as family, are now more important than work, which could encourage them to talk. 

Others think SVB’s relaxed remote-working culture, which meant senior executives were scattered across the US, contributed to its failure. Nicholas Bloom, a Stanford professor who has studied remote working, told the Financial Times: “It’s hard to have a challenging call over Zoom.” Hedging interest rate risk was more likely to come up over lunch or in small meetings. 

Leaders also need to persistently praise people who speak up. The penalties for doing so are often more obvious than the rewards. Those who keep their heads down are seldom blamed. As Warren Buffett said: “As a group, lemmings may have a rotten image, but no individual lemming has ever received bad press.”