With Great Power, comes Greater Arrogance?

[Due apologies to Ben Parker, the uncle of Peter 'Spiderman' Parker, whose quote has been mauled for supplying the title of this article. I must also say outright that the word 'Muggle' has been used for 'people who neither are in the bureaucracy, nor have any uncles in the bureaucracy', precisely for the reason that the whole expression might be quite unwieldy, and it is not used in a derogatory manner. Thank you, Jo, for creating such a nice word.]

After around 10 months from the date I left my office in Mumbai, it is time to take up public office once more. Most probably it shall come with some of what has been called, by persons ostensibly more learned, but suspected to be quite innocent of field-craft, “trappings of power”. Nothing too wild – a mode of conveyance, a place of stay, a designation that does not sound dodgy – little things, that have been described by some as ivory towers atop which bureaucrats sit and survey their domains. Yes, our kind has been described as suffering from many ills – venality may be the most highlighted one these days. However, as we have been told by many persons – bureaucrats and muggles alike – it is not the venality that hurts the people interacting with the bureaucracy the most. It is the arrogance. People say they are willing to forgive, or even aid and abet, the venality, if only it would help them avoid the humiliation that they face while interacting with the public service delivery system.

            As it is in my nature, I trace all the ills that riddle the governance structure back to our society at large – this article shall be no different. It is not that the author is oblivious to the arrogance the holders of public offices display. On the other hand, it might give some solace to the humiliated muggles that the bureaucracy reserves the best of its excellent ‘PR skills’ for its own people! What makes it worse is the consciousness which is fuelled by the notions of ‘Grade Pay’ and ‘Warrant of Precedence’. While the outrage of a muggle might stem from the public ‘servant’ dictating terms, it is a whole new level of humiliation when a person you know to be drawing a grade pay at least four steps below you makes you dance to his tunes! So, coming back to the point - our society at large has a proclivity towards arrogant behaviour. My ideas are derived from my interactions within the Northern, Hindi speaking belt; the same may be extrapolated, with caution, by the readers based on their experience. We tend to be arrogant in any relationship where there is a power differential in a transaction. The transaction may be of any nature, and the issue of contention may be of any type – the only common factor is that there exists a transaction, and there exists a power differential between the transacting parties.

One of the most interesting ways in which this arrogance manifests itself is in the arrogance of the ‘ladkeywaaley’ (groom’s side) in the traditional arranged marriage scene. Somehow, in this society, a greater stigma is attached to spinsterhood than is attached to bachelorhood. Combine that with the tradition of most brides being younger than the grooms, and the clock is already running out for the girls as soon as they hit the legal age. This puts an enormous pressure on the girl and her family to get a ‘suitable match’ as soon as the possible, putting them at a disadvantaged status in the arranged marriage market. That it leads to venality is manifest in the practice of dowry. However, venality is not the focus of this article. Arrogance is. The traditional arranged marriage scenario sees the worst kind of arrogant display of this power. The bride’s family is treated as second grade citizens, at least till the period the negotiations, or even the wedding itself, are not complete. The clichéd Hindi cinema meme of the hapless ‘dulhan ka baap’ (bride’s father) taking off his turban and placing it at the feet of the recalcitrant ‘dulhe ka baap’ (groom’s father) has more than a grain of truth.

Another common everyday scenario where our innate arrogance comes to light is in our little economic transactions, especially when it comes to our dealings with the little vendors – the roadside grocer, the street corner cobbler, the emaciated rickshaw puller. We would assume our right to a ‘bargain’, even at the cost of the already slim margins of these entrepreneurs. Many would say they are simply extracting their money’s worth. Think again. The same person would happily drink a 100 buck coffee at CCD, or buy a T-shirt, costing some 200 rupees, at a price range 10 times that. However, when it comes to paying a rickshaw puller Rs.15 instead of the tenner we insist on, we become apoplectic with rage, and start plying them with all the notions of market propriety. It is not that we do it consciously. I myself have gone livid with rage when the Delhi autowallah insist on charging above what has been deemed ‘proper’ (who does not). However, the same feeling of being cheated does not come  up that often when we are transacting with the big people – the lounge-suited owner of an upscale eatery, for that matter.

Popular discourse itself shows traces of societal arrogance. We tend to discount, and deem ourselves superior to, the ‘voting classes’. After all, who hasn’t heard of the story that they sell their votes for liquor and amusement? They constitute a class of which the individuals are powerless compared to the individuals of our class – so how could their judgement on how the nation is to be governed be right? As some people are discovering the ultimate helpless of the ‘once-considered-powerful’ bureaucracy, at least in the arena of verbal dueling, a sense of propriety has given way to arrogance. The ‘civil society’ claims that the public ‘servants’ should behave like ‘servants’, not masters. There is an element of scorn in the utterance of the word ‘servant’. This vision of ‘servants’ is quite different from the Western version of the ‘help’ – the ‘servant’ has to be servile, docile, and able to brook all sorts of abuse. No doubt the government is looking to legislate for the welfare of the actual domestic servants of this very civil society, who, as a whole, have not been very civil to their helps.

Is the situation totally hopeless, and are we doomed to a life devoid of propriety and ‘gentlemanliness’ in our social interactions? Well, we have had individual examples of thorough ladies and gentlemen in our lives. At IIT Delhi, we had the good fortune of having, as our Finance instructor, Professor P.K. Jain, an epitome of right conduct. He addressed all his students, the canteen workers, the helpers, in fact any human being, of whatever age, background or qualification, as ‘Sir’ or ‘Madam’. He never used any ‘street level’ word, even when he had all reasons to do so. Even his admonishments, which were rare, sounded like a well drafted letter! We all would have come across such persons in our life. It is a pity that they are so rare that chancing upon them is such a memorable thing.

It is also a pity that in such an arrogant society, a non-arrogant person who has to deal with a lot of public has to develop a retaliatory ‘instrumental arrogance’. I can tell from the experience of holding office for 10 months that a ‘nice person’ faces a hell out there when faced with people who are confused about their parentage – the “jaante ho mera baap kaun hai” (do you know who my Dad is?) types. If it is not their Dad, it is their uncle, their Aunt, their friend, their student. However, it might be a good idea to shut down this defence mechanism once in a while – and to give the other party a chance to show some innate decency. It is one such incident that prompted me to write this piece, and it is quite illustrative. It so happened that I was traveling with family across the length of my State by a train, which touched the departure station at an hour later than the midnight. When we boarded and reached our berths, we found them occupied with a lot of uniformed men, all armed with INSAS rifles! Now this is the point of panic – government servants, in a huge group, armed, uniformed, and in illegal occupancy of one’s berths at 1 a.m. I was preparing to bring out the whole ‘steel frame’ and stuff – asking them to vacate the berths, tell the name of their commander, their post, their antecedents, and their reasons for being in illegal occupancy of the berths of the family of an officer soaring in pay-grades miles above them! I knew nothing lesser would have worked – given their advantageous position, and I was worried if my affectation of righteously hurt bureaucratic pride would be convincing, given the fact that I was in a 2 day old T-shirt and was carrying a rumpled bag on my shoulder. Fortunately, the showdown never came. Dad requested them to vacate, and they did! All they said was – “Sir, kindly let us wear our shoes, and keep some of our luggage in the vacant holds”. I felt bad for them, in a split interval of a moment. So when they had made their way to a vacant berth at the end of the coach, I started small talk with one of them. I learnt that they were no ordinary ‘chowki’ policemen, but the armed security detail of one of the senior-most Cabinet Ministers of the State which I am about to serve, who was traveling in the First AC coach next to ours. It was good I had not pulled rank in front of them – after all, what is a mere Assistant Collector in front of a Cabinet Minister! One may argue that they were in the wrong in occupying our reserved berths, but the society in the area the train was passing through did not set much store by such laws; and anyway, how was one supposed to enforce those laws there. Yet, despite their immensely powerful position in this transaction, those men chose to be civil. They chose not to be arrogant. They chose to do so with a so called ‘aam aadmi’ (a better heeled one, may be, judging by the fact that he was traveling in Second AC, but an ‘aam aadmi’ nevertheless, since we had not been introduced). It was heartening that this departure from the sad societal norm was done by one of the most vilified segments of the society in this regard – the uniformed forces. The incident redeemed my faith in a better future for our social discourse. Let us bring civility back (if it ever was here to begin with) in our society – avoid the innate arrogance, and let down on the instrumental arrogance, once in a while. We might just usher in a more pleasant world.

The Men Who Ruled India (A Book Review)

[This was a part of my course-work. The book is a very widely read and reviewed one. However, this review received good remarks, from a class of people generally known to criticize. So, I guess, it makes the cut for appearing here.]

Introduction

“The Men who ruled India – the Founders” is a book about the foundation of the British rule in India, and the evolution of the Civil Service in India. It covers the history of India, from the point of view of the British, from the early 17^th Century till the days of the Revolt of 1857.

The credit for this work is accorded to ‘Philip Woodruff’. A quick Google search shows that this is the pseudonym of Philip Mason, an ex-English Civil Servant. Perhaps no other person would be so well qualified to write a book on the Civil Services of the Company Raj – since he is both a British subject and a Civil Servant. The work shows his grasp over both these worlds.

Comparison with similar works

The reviewer happens to have read another book covering the topics of similar nature – ‘Sahibs who loved India’ by Khushwant Singh. There are some similarities between the two works – in the general tone of the chapters, which include rosy eyed reminiscences of the lives of the officers in various civil capacities across India. However, while Singh’s book is a collection of articles by various officers of the I.C.S., Woodruff (Mason)’s book is one complete narrative in itself, and quotations are never too long, and form a part of the narrative. Secondly, Mason’s work does not deal with the I.C.S. technically, but with the H.E.I.C.S. (Honourable East India Company’s Service) 

Run through

The book is divided into three parts – Under the Mughals (1600-1751), The Revolution (1751-1798) and the Golden Age (1798-1858).

The first part comprises roughly of the part when the English were just traders, petitioning for minor favours to the Mughal emperor and his officials. It describes the travails of these pioneers, who undertook risky travel to meet and negotiate with the largely inconsistent Mughal officialdom. In addition to their relations with the Mughals, this part describes their skirmishes with the other European powers – mainly the Portuguese, against whom, with the aid of their superior naval power, they forged some sort of proto military alliance with the Mughal Administration, thus giving them a de facto recognition as a military entity, as against a purely mercantile one. The war with the French is also described, which led to the first significant ‘puppet ruler’ being installed in the shape of the Nawab of Arcot. The development of the three presidency towns is also described. This chapter also describes Company officials like Pitt (who sired a line of British PM’s) and Elihu Yale (the founder of the Yale University) 

The second part deals with the rise of the company to the status of “Revenue Minister” under the nominal suzerainty of the Mughals. The books skips over the details of the ‘Blackhole incident ‘ of Calcutta, the Battles of Plassey and Buxar. However, it is described how, at the end of the latter, the company came to be the Diwan of Bengal – and how they proceeded to carry out this task. Initially they began with an Indian Naib Diwan, who had his own subordinate apparatus to deliver the revenue. However, later, the British took the Revenue Administration in their own hands, and thus the institution of the Collector was born. Two chapters are dedicated to Sir John Shore, under whose Governor-General-ship the revenue administration system developed. This part also contains biographies of noted Civil Servants of the era – such as Harry Verelst, who was the first Collector – of Burdwan. His assumption of his charge can be thought as the start of the Indian Civil Service. His instructions to his subordinates are very similar to what is still taught to revenue officers in India.  One chapter is dedicated to the portrayal of life at a typical British Station.

The third part can be read, more or less, as an extension of the second part. It describes the development of the revenue system, with forms of settlement better than the Zamindari system evolving under Thomas Munro and Boy Malcolm. Also described is the gradual absorption of Central Indian territories and the development of Bombay Presidency under Mountstuart Elphinstone. Other luminaries covered in this part are Charles Metcalfe, John Nicholson, and John Thomason (the founder of IIT Roorkee). The title of the part may be derived from the fact that this part deals with the end of various evils, like Sati, human sacrifice and thugee. A very interesting chapter is devoted to the training of the early Civil Servants – at Fort William College and Haileybury. The penultimate chapter is devoted to the conquest of Punjab and Sindh, in addition to the disastrous attack on Afghanistan. Finally, the book ends with a poignant coverage of the Mutiny, with a surprisingly sympathetic (to the Indians) tone.   

Interesting anecdotes and Revelations.

The book is filled with various interesting anecdotes and revelations – here is a list of some of them. The reader comes to know that Mir Qasim, the ‘puppet’ installed by the British after Buxar, was actually quite an enlightened administrator, and tried hard for the well-being of his subjects, by ending preferential trading rights to the Company. One also learns that the local ruler near Madras agreed to sell to the Company, for some amount, a strip of land equal in width to the range of a random cannon shot! The British brought in the largest cannon in their Presidency to encash this blank cheque. It is interesting to learn that the first large territory that fell into British hands was not won in a conquest, but given as a security by the Nawab of Arkot, for the various loans he needed for his profligate ways. There is also a revelation that for the period of a decade in the late 18^th Century, the position of District Magistrate was separated from the Collector, and given to the District Judge – thus creating the nightmare of any modern day administrator. One cannot help but smile when the author says that while a Rajput widow committing Sati was somehow justified, because his husband was supposed not to return as a loser from a battlefield, a Bengali widow doing it was not appropriate, since his husband was never expected to make a sacrifice! The smile turns to laughter when one reads the way revenue was collected in Oudh – the villagers built mud forts and attacked the revenue collector’s party with cannons – and the negotiations were conducted according to the fortune of both parties in this cannonade! To top it all, it is pleasantly surprising to know that the famous economist Malthus was a Professor of Economics at Haileybury.  The chapter about Haileybury is of special interest to any trainee of the civil Services. It is surprising to note that even at the height of the Victorian Age – which is held synonymous with hypocritical morality, the trainees at Haileybury had a very relaxed and enriching program, while its successor can, at best, be judged as a travesty of it – a cross between a borstal, a boarding school and a scene from ‘Catch-22’.

So different and yet so same

As far as the trials and tribulation of an administrative officer are concerned, there are many instances which show that the issues of those times find a surprisingly strong echo in today’s. It is learnt that, much to his indignation, even Robert Clive had to pay for his initiation arrangements when he joined the Service – much the same way a trainee today has to pay for various ‘compulsory’ and officially needed accoutrements – like laptops, riding gear etc. from his own pocket. Even in those days, there was a debate over the salaries, perks and pelf of the officials. The line – “Independence of outlook does not usually occur without some material security” – sums up the argument most succinctly. There is a clear imprint of modern day pseudo-activists in the episode of Nuncomar, who, when his request for favours were spurned by Warren Hastings, accused him (Hastings) of corrupt practices, based on some real (but bona-fide) mistakes. Many modern officers can recognize this form of blackmail today. Then there is the instance of a confrontation with the Judiciary – as when a writ-happy High Court of Bombay issued a writ of Habeas Corpus to separate a child from his guardian, who had been chosen by the child’s father before his death, and with whom the child was very happy, based on a frivolous complaint. The Collector, in the instance, did not give up, and went on to appeal to the level of the Directors in London, and won! Then, there are frequent instances of distinction between the ‘active’ field officers and the ‘sedentary’ secretariat officers – as is done today. Finally, there is the lament of a man no less than Sir John Shore, that how his life is like that “of a galley slave”, and how he was saddened by the “ingratitude, censure and calumny” heaped on him and his Service brethren, by the populace at large. This is clearly a feeling of a majority of the Civil Servants of modern era, when the public opinion is generally critical of anything done by them.

Writing Style

The book is one complete narrative, from the days of the founding of the Company to the days of the Mutiny. Essentially, the book reads as if it were written in two different ages. That is understandable, since the narrative includes various first person quotations from the protagonist of that moment (in the narrative), which are written in an English some 200 years old, and hence jarring to a modern day reader. The author’s own writing is lucid and simple, and shows elements of wit, which is no surprise, considering his background in the Civil Service. 

Recommendation

The book tells us the story of the colonial period from ‘the other side’. While most people in India might have read the ‘national’ version of the British Raj story, this book gives an interesting counterpoint which must be added to the mix to get a complete picture. The book gives an insider’s view on the way our land revenue system was formed – which, with minor changes, remains the same even today. Thus, it is a very necessary reading for any Revenue Officer. While going through the book, one comes to know about the effort and application of mind put in forming the whole administrative and legal framework of the country, and then one understands why, despite 60 plus years of Independence, we are still unable to find viable ‘swadesi’ alternatives to the same. Most importantly, it shows how a few good men can transform anarchy into stability, peace, and progress, if their hearts are in the right place. For this reason alone, this book is a must read.