dna edit: A bill that spares politicians

In the aftermath of the Muzaffarnagar communal violence, that left over 50 dead and several thousand Muslims homeless, the Congress has suddenly woken up to the relevance of a bill that it had forgotten about. The UPA government’s decision to table the Prevention of Communal and Targeted Violence (Access to Justice and Repatriation) Bill, 2011, in the winter session of Parliament has provoked angry reactions from the BJP. Since the 1984 anti-Sikh riots, the colossal failure of the Indian State to tackle communal riots or offer justice to the victims coupled with evidence of collusion by officials with rioters, has sullied India’s human rights and governance record in international fora.

The regularity with which large-scale communal riots targeting minority communities have occurred — 1983:Nellie, 1984: Delhi, 1989: Bhagalpur, 1993: Mumbai, 2002: Gujarat, 2007-08:Kandhamal, 2012: Assam, 2013: Western UP — and the devastation they wreak on the targeted community provides ample rationale for the legislation. While the BJP has objected to the obvious tilt of the bill to “minority” groups in a state, civil society critics of the bill have bemoaned the addition of another law when there are ample provisions within the Indian Penal Code to prosecute both rioters and public servants.

To counter this, the National Advisory Council in an explanatory note claimed there was evidence from records and enquiry commissions that confirmed “institutional bias and prejudicial functioning” of the civil administration, law enforcement and criminal justice machinery when non-dominant linguistic, religious or SC/ST groups were attacked because of their identity. But the NAC is silent about districts where minorities at the state-level are in a majority.

By prescribing tough punishments for public servants accused of dereliction of duty, the NAC hopes to address this bias during riots. But as has been evidenced in India, riots are preceded by months of hate speech, collection of arms, and other activities to build up a tense and divisive atmosphere. Politicians accused of hate speech, past and present, be it Bal or Raj Thackeray, Varun Gandhi or Akbaruddin Owaisi, have been treated with kid gloves by the police and judiciary.

Other than a three-year jail term for “hate propaganda”, this bill offers nothing new to gag politicians. However, the creation of a National Authority for Communal Harmony, Justice and Reparation, with state-level units, though derided as the creation of another bureaucracy, is a good move. The authorities will collect information on communal incidents, hate speech, and victims of riots; help in the prosecution of riot cases; and rehabilitation of victims.

While there is apprehension that these authorities will go the way of other national commissions and become toothless bodies, there is no denying their importance for riot victims. Depending on such specialised arms of the state will be an easier task for riot victims who otherwise shuttle between broken homes or relief camps to courts, enquiry commissions and other government agencies. The bill’s tough provisions for public servants has annoyed the bureaucracy. A sizeable section of the bill is reserved for officials while the responsibility of politicians for communal violence has been smoothly evaded. Perhaps, this was done to assuage political parties and ensure the bill’s passage. But in excluding politicians and legislators from stiff penalties, the bill fails to recognise the primary suspects behind communal violence.