dna edit: The lost cause

Thursday’s communal clashes in Shamli district near Muzaffarnagar is evidence that the wounds of last year’s riots continue to fester. Uttar Pradesh is today a state in free fall. Law and order appears non-existent, horrific instances of gender violence are being reported, roads are crumbling, long power outages have become the norm, and a dangerous communal polarisation appears to have tided over the backward caste politics of recent decades. If not for a safe majority in the legislative assembly — the outcome of a resounding mandate won by young Akhilesh Yadav’s promise that the chaotic Mulayam Singh Yadav administrations of the past would not repeat — this is a government with no moral standing left to govern India’s most populous state. The mandate has clearly shifted; the BJP alliance has won 73 of UP’s 80 Lok Sabha seats in the general elections but with nearly three years of its tenure left, this government has exhausted its options and its goodwill. Akhilesh, now tried, tested and all-but-failed, stepping aside — for Mulayam or another elder of his Yadav clan, or even the acerbic Azam Khan — changes nothing. All these men, individually and collectively, have dismantled the government. Every word, action and inaction of these men has sapped the state government’s credibility and vitality, with one vexing question left hanging: “How much longer?”

With the Supreme Court frowning upon the Centre for the imposition of Article 356 to arbitrarily unseat elected state governments, the NDA government may not be considering precipitate action. But should a government that cannot protect the lives and dignity of its citizens continue in power? A system of accountability whereby Chief Ministers have been forced by their parties to resign on account of poor performance exists elsewhere. But in an oligarchy like the Samajwadi Party such accountability is reserved for the top bureaucrats who are convenient scapegoats to cover up for Akhilesh Yadav’s failures. The cold disregard for even token gestures of political accountability, an apology if not an offer of resignation, has been compounded by the smug statements from SP leaders against the media’s attempts to highlight the gender violence. Ram Gopal Yadav complained that similar incidents happening in other states were being ignored while Mulayam advised those worried about sexual violence to stay in Delhi.

Undeterred by his rhetorical question to a woman journalist on her safety receiving flak, comes Akhilesh’s latest suggestion to do a Google-search for Badaun-like incidents in other states. These statements reflect an extreme degree of callousness and gender insensitivity that should disqualify these men from holding even the most insignificant political office. But then patriarchal mindsets have never been a disqualification for Indian politicians.

For UP, its troubles go beyond these fumbling Yadav leaders. The state administration and police are beset by casteism that works to the detriment of disadvantaged sections. In the Badaun rape and murders, the victims hailed from the OBC Maurya community but could not secure justice from the dominant OBC Yadavs manning the local police station. Sixty-six years after Independence, functionaries of the State are still identified by their caste. Their loyalty to caste and religion rather than to the modern State exposes the limitations of our democratic experiment which has adapted to existing feudal realities without seriously undermining rural power equations. With a 200 million population to feed, employ and educate, UP’s fate is closely intertwined with India’s. Even as Bihar plays catch-up after the 15-year-long stagnation and criminalisation associated with the Lalu era, we are seeing its tragic replay in UP.