The virus of making political parties family-based ventures started from the Congress Party in its obsession with the Nehru-Gandhi family and has spread across the Indian political spectrum. Therefore, a politician like Laloo Yadav can impose his wife as the chief minister of Bihar while the family feud in the Dravida Munnettra Kazhagam party would put any Indian soap opera serial to shame. Even parties that have vehemently criticized Congress' dynastic politics in the past have no qualms in promoting the children of their leaders.
But the important question is not why India's ruling Maharajas want to pass on their inheritance to their children -- that is but natural in the Indian context -- but why is this utter perversion of democracy; this cynical nepotism tolerated by the Indian voters? Perhaps tolerated is not the correct word, for it is not merely condoned but actively and wholeheartedly endorsed. In the marketplace of democracy, where electoral success is the defining feature, it makes immense sense to anoint a family member as heir apparent. There is simply no political price to be paid.
The answer to the question posed above perhaps lies in the very structure of Indian society. As politicians are fond of pointing out, nepotism is hardly restricted to the political arena. Indeed, it would be fair to claim that it is the defining character of Indian society. In India's caste system, film stars' children follow their illustrious parents' footsteps while industrialists revel in inherited wealth. Even in the less glamorous professions -- from medicine to law -- it is the inherited name that carries more weight than acquired skills.
Why is this so? Is it because family has always been the fulcrum of Indian society? Individuals are expected to function not for their personal satisfaction or intellectual, social and material advancement, but to carry on the family name. This subservience of the individual to his family has made movement -- both vertical and horizontal -- extremely difficult.
The accumulated weight of burden stymies individual desires and passions. In turn, this has led to an extremely stagnant society where the individual's station in life seems predetermined -- nay, pre-ordained. So manifest is the inability to understand this that social inequities brought forth by perpetuation of the family's or community's overwhelming role are countered by giving handouts based on community allegiance.
However, this burden of family works both ways. The family not only expects its name to be carried forward, but also is expected to clear the way forward for its scion. That is why India's tallest political leaders in the sunset of their lives do not think of their legacy but of ways to divide the kingdom among their children. That is why India lacks its own Robert Wood Johnson Foundations, its Rockefellers, and multibillion-dollar donations to universities and research facilities. An individual's place in history is not guaranteed by the larger social good, but only by the fortune he bequeaths. That he who seeks to perpetuate the family name at the same time must lose his individuality is an acceptable price to pay.
This tendency to live vicariously -- to derive pleasure and satisfaction from others' successes -- explains the Indian tendency to take offense at the slightest slights: perceived or real. For an individual so entwined in his community that his very existence is defined by it would naturally take the community's defamation as his own. He would hold wild celebrations when anyone with the slightest Indian connection achieves success, especially if it merits approval from the West. There is also a tendency to look down upon India's own heroes and heroines. A community, by its very definition, craves for outside recognition. In India, carrying forward the white man's legacy can only mean one thing!
To be fair, nepotism is not unique to the Indian political scene. A Bush or Clinton has presided over the United States for the last 20 years and might continue to do so in the near future. What is uniquely Indian, however, is crass sycophancy -- the implicit recognition that the party, the workers, and the entire nation exist only to celebrate the family. Here again the Indians' ability to be satisfied with less -- to accept that he cannot strive for the highest political position -- explains (at least partially) why the second-rung leadership is so ready to embrace the imposed prince.
That is why economic reforms are so important for rejuvenating India's impotent social fabric. Indian genius, long shackled by laws imposed by family, society and the state (they have been used inter-changeably in the past) has finally been unleashed and allowed to seek its own fulfillment. How many self-made millionaires did India create between 1947 and 1991? How many since then? This is not merely a function of economic or regulatory incentives -- important as they may be -- but far more importantly, allowing ordinary people to find their own space unencumbered by the burdens of the past. It is about allowing the luxury of failure.
Unsurprisingly, India's next generation is willing to explore options beyond the ordinary. From generations which emphasized conventional careers, India is now finally beginning to produce those interested in professions that are decidedly more esoteric. But these are not the rebels of the 1960's -- those who sought to change the world. The Naxal movement was a movement of the vacuous -- designed to satisfy the hyper-inflated egos of a few by imposing an alien and stultified social order on the gullible.
The new Indian is not for destruction but for the establishment, even as he constantly re-evaluates the old. Mayawati Kumari's unbridled ambition -- her articulation of her desire to be the prime minister -- so unique in Indian politics, characterizes this change as little else does.
In 1957, politician Lal Bahadur Shashti, when asked to comment upon Prime Minister Jawahar Lal Nehru, pithily remarked, 'inko sirf apni putri ki chinta hai.' (He only cares about his daughter.) Rahul Gandhi's coronation is a celebration of this old and decadent culture.
Despite its modern façade with its emphasis on generational shift and youth, it is very much a reaffirmation of the past. It is in dissonance with the ethos of a changing India. To be sure, this changing India is still small in number and its immediate electoral impact may be limited. However, that the process of change has been set in motion is unquestionable. That is why despite the short-term gains; the long-term viability of the Rahul Gandhi brand of politics is questionable.
Rahul Gandhi may be the last prince who would be king.
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(Rohit Pradhan is a graduate student in health policy in the U.S. state of Florida. Originally from New Delhi, India, he is interested in politics, security and public policy. His blog may be found at www.retributions.nationalinterest.in. ©Copyright Rohit Pradhan.)






