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      India’s New Education Policy Is Full of Hodge-Podge Nonsense

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      The union cabinet of the government of India recently announced its 2020 National Education Policy (NEP). This is the first education policy developed by a non-Congress party government since independence. Coming 34 years after the last formulation of a fully-fledged education policy, Indians anticipated a significant pivot in the education system to leverage the country’s demographic dividend. India’s current political leadership claimed it wanted to make the country a “vishwa guru,” the Sanskrit word for a world teacher, and would dramatically reform its education. Therefore, great expectations from the NEP seemed natural.

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      Prima facie, the NEP might make many Indians happy because it has something in it for everyone. However, a careful read reveals that the NEP does little to change the direction of our education. It largely promises cosmetic changes. In essence, the NEP is a collection of myriad aspirational expressions, not a coherent policy framework.

      The ideologues of the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) may find the references to ancient wisdom of India heartening. It might lead to young Indians learning that Banabhatta outlined 64 forms of art or Sushruta pioneered glorious surgical techniques. However, it does little to prepare the young to shape the future.

      Given my advocacy of long-term policymaking, I should have reasons to thank those who drafted the NEP. They have taken a 20-year view and set goals for 2040. Just as we plan over a 20-year timespan, not a five-year one, for our children, so should our national plans. Yet a bad 20-year plan is worse than its bad five-year counterpart, and that is my problem with the NEP.

      What Are the Changes Proposed?

      Let me pick on a key aspect of the plan. The NEP proposes the three-language formula. This means that, all over the country, students will learn three languages. These are Hindi, English and the regional language of the respective state. The government believes that it is abolishing language barriers in the country. Instead, this has triggered off a storm in non-Hindi speaking states. In Tamil Nadu, there has been long-standing opposition to Hindi as compulsory learning or administration. The three-language formula has been around since 1968 but failed to take off because parts of India resent the domination and imposition of Hindi.

      There is another tiny little matter. Demand for learning in English has taken off around the country, including and especially in Hindi-speaking areas. Thanks to the legacy of colonization, the advent of globalization and a host of other factors, English has emerged as the language of success in India. The people do not care for the three-language formula one jot. Yet the BJP’s NEP is flogging a dead horse.

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      Many have lauded the NEP for promoting multidisciplinary education. This has long been discussed. At far too young an age, Indians are cast into rigid silos of arts, science and commerce. As a result, they lose love for learning and end up at lower-productivity levels than their counterparts in Europe or East Asia. The NEP allows students to change disciplines more easily along the same lines as in the US. However, this flexibility will only benefit the country if quality education is offered in different disciplines. For instance, English and history are taught terribly in a rote-based manner in most schools. Shifting from science or commerce to study either subject might enable a student to pass more easily but would achieve little else.

      The NEP offers greater flexibility in earning degrees either over a period of time or across subjects. Offering multiple entry and exit points in higher education is a good idea. It may help people find their true interests and give them second or third chances in life. However, the key logical next step is to unlink degrees from jobs, where academic degrees are immaterial. A new form of recruiting that is based on demonstrated merit and knowledge of the work itself is the way forward for the country. The NEP has missed that opportunity to curb India’s fixation with degrees and promote a culture of focus on work.

      Supporters claim that the NEP is focusing on work by combining vocational education with school and college education. In due course of time, vocational education will be on par with other degree programs. A carpenter, a plumber or an electrician will command the same respect as someone with a master’s degree in literature, history or sociology. This argument is disingenuous. Increasing “respect” for vocational programs involves changes in social perceptions. It requires much deeper and drastic changes than those envisaged by the NEP.

      Bad Thinking and Poor Drafting

      In fact, the NEP is full of seemingly good ideas that have simply not been thought through. It has passing references to fostering creativity and instituting a 360-degree view in student report cards. It also throws in digital education, adult learning and lok-vidya (folk education) about local heritage and culture. Yet the NEP fails to tell anyone how these ideas will come into practice.

      The drafters of the NEP forget that soundbites are not policy. Nor are tweaks. Turning a 5+3+2+2 system into a 10+2 or 5+3+3 one does not change the way students are taught or the way they learn. Similarly, giving a certificate after year one, a diploma after year two and a bachelor’s after year three does not change syllabi, pedagogy and learning. Yes, a student can drop out after a year with a certificate, but would that be worth the paper it was written on?

      To change education, India must improve the quality and commitment of its teachers. Training them in institutions with new names or giving students multiple exits or entries in a four-year bachelor of education program offers flexibility in getting a degree but does not improve the quality of their instruction.

      In comparison with earlier education policies, the National Education Policy is a poorly-drafted document. It is a testament to how India has regressed under the BJP. The demonetization policy was instituted by a hasty, poorly-drafted document. It seems that the government does not have the intellectual policymaking firepower of its predecessors.

      One sentence in paragraph 4.13 on page 14 of the NEP captures drafting woes common to recent government documents when it proclaims: “In particular, students who wish to change one or more of the three languages they are studying may do so in Grade 6 or 7, as long as they are able to demonstrate basic proficiency in three languages (including one language of India at the literature level) by the end of secondary school.”

      Does this mean that students can change the languages they are learning as long as they can travel into the future, i.e., Grade 12, and prove they are proficient in the new languages they choose? Or does it mean that students must be prepared to prove proficiency in the languages they choose in Grade 12? Sadly, the NEP is full of such unadulterated absolute nonsense.

      The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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      The Indian Government Is Not Letting a Pandemic Go to Waste

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      Indian culture venerates tools of trade. Indeed, a special day in the festival calendar is dedicated to worshiping them. In this context, tractors and farm implements are considered almost sacred. Burning a tractor is one of the most symbolic forms of protest. Members of the main opposition party decided to engage in precisely this act. They recently burned a tractor in the high-security zone of India Gate in New Delhi.

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      As per the World Bank, 41.5% of Indians are employed in agriculture. Another 20% are dependent on it. This has implications for Indian politics. Support of farmers is critical to winning elections. Agriculture is to India what the military-industrial complex is to the US. Politicians promise goodies and operate elaborate patronage systems in rural India to secure votes.

      The chaos, unruliness and terrible state of Indian cities can partly be explained by the disproportionate doling out of subsidies to rural areas. This leaves little money for urban infrastructure, which is almost invariably ramshackle across the country. Most state governments in India are headed by rural politicians. Even Karnataka, which is home to Bengaluru, the information technology capital of the country, is no exception.

      The Biggest Reform Since 1991

      With such powerful vested interests, hinting at reform is a tall proposition. The Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) government led by Prime Minister Narendra Modi has done the unthinkable. It has dismantled state control over agricultural markets. Opposition parties are protesting because they represent rural power brokers who are deeply upset. By freeing farmers from such power brokers, the Modi government has ushered in a brave new era both for Indian politics and the economy. 

      A little bit of context is essential to understand the true implications of this move. Until now, farmers were forced to sell their produce to agricultural produce market committees (APMCs). They are dominated by rural politicians and local bigwigs who exploit farmers. For decades, farmers got pitiably low amounts while consumers paid ridiculously high prices. The middlemen who run APMCs pocketed the difference.

      At a time when GDP has been shrinking and COVID-19 has been barely tackled, the Modi-led government has introduced the most significant economic reforms since 1991. In that historic year when the US fought Iraq in the Gulf War and the Soviet Union fell, India liberalized its economy and ushered in an era of high growth. The liberalization of agricultural markets will boost farm incomes significantly. With about 60% of India’s population reliant on agriculture and allied activities, this move will increase domestic demand and bolster Modi’s political base. In addition to this, Modi is also pioneering a scheme inspired by Peruvian economist Hernando De Soto’s work that seeks to better define the property rights of the farmers.

      Other Major Measures

      Apart from agricultural liberalization, the Modi government has instituted other far-reaching reforms. It has simplified longstanding labor laws that held back manufacturing. The Modi government has also curbed the flow of foreign funding into India’s nonprofits. Many of them have been opponents of the Modi government and its policies. Now, these nonprofits stand weakened, leaving the BJP in a stronger position.

      Another development has strengthened the BJP. For decades, Bollywood has been a bastion for opponents of the ruling party. Recently, the film industry has been in trouble. The death of a small-town actor has put the spotlight on nepotism and corruption in Bollywood. Some key figures are now under investigation. As a result, Bollywood’s criticism of the BJP has become muted in some quarters but more strident in others. Bollywood’s target is a section of the media that it deems to be sympathetic to the BJP’s brand of politics.

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      Such is the BJP’s domination that its ambitious legislative agenda has escaped public scrutiny and effective opposition. In June, these authors sent out a brief that explained how the ruling party needed just seven more members of parliament to control the 245-member Rajya Sabha, the upper house of the parliament. Now, the BJP has achieved that control and its MPs are ramming through reforms their party deems fit.

      Foreign correspondents working for big media outlets in New Delhi who frequent the Khan Market have failed to understand the major implications of recent moves. The Modi-led government has embarked on a new chapter. The legislative reforms it is pushing through are ambitious, far-reaching and potentially transformative. While COVID-19 is ravaging the country and China is making threatening moves on its border, India has bet boldly on big reforms. The BJP might reap a rich political harvest as a result.

      Yet even as it seems all smooth sailing for the BJP, the ruling party faces a big risk. Voters expect it to govern well. So far, several key reforms and policy initiatives have failed miserably. India’s colonial-era bureaucracy has built toilets and opened bank accounts because these did not threaten its power. In contrast, measures that threatened bureaucratic privilege, such as manufacturing reforms or indirect tax reforms, have been quietly scuttled.

      If India’s powerful bureaucracy tries similar tricks with the latest set of reforms, the ambitious Modi government might finally turn on the purveyors of red tape themselves.

      The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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      Indigenous Communities Can Counter Naxals and Protect Forests in India

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      On the night of July 11, Naxalites blew up 12 buildings in the forest department’s field office-cum-quarters in the Berkela forest area of Pashchimi Singhbhum district in Jharkhand, India. Naxalites are Maoists who have fought a bloody insurgency against the Indian state in some rural and forest areas for over six decades. In 2006, Manmohan Singh, the prime minister at the time, called this insurgency “the single biggest internal-security challenge” the country has ever faced.

      360° Context: The State of the Indian Republic

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      In recent years, the Naxalite insurgency has ebbed. So, this attack sent shock waves across administration in general and the forest department in particular. Fortunately, no one died in the attack. The Naxals asked staff to vacate the premises and warned of consequences if police were informed before destruction. Even as the police swung into action to apprehend the attackers, forest officials huddled together for introspection.

      Forests, Minerals and Indigenous People

      I have served in the jungles of Jharkhand as a forestry professional. The attack has made me reflect deeply. Naxalite attacks in Jharkhand are not new. For years, Naxals have intimidated state functionaries through various means, including attacks and assassinations. To understand the persisting nature of the Naxalite insurgency, we have to examine Jharkhand closely.

      Jharkhand is a state that lies to the south of Bihar and the west of Bengal, two fertile Gangetic states of India. To its southeast and southwest, it borders two other poor but resource-rich states of Chhattisgarh and Odisha. Jharkhand literally means “bushland.” It is endowed with rich natural resources, including both forests and minerals such as coal, iron, copper, mica and uranium.

      Jharkhand is predominantly inhabited by diverse indigenous communities. The Indian Constitution gives these communities a “scheduled tribes” status. As per the 2011 census, they comprise 8.2% of India’s population. In contrast, scheduled tribes form a much higher 26.3% of the population in Jharkhand. Historically, Jharkhand was a part of Bihar and the people of Jharkhand felt neglected and marginalized. Therefore, they agitated for a separate state both to safeguard their identity and to achieve control over their rich resources of “jal, jungle aur jameen,” Hindi for water, forests and land.

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      On November 15, 2000, Jharkhand was formed. I remember the date fondly. A grand function was held in Ranchi’s Raj Bhawan, the governor’s house. I was still what is called a “probationer” in government parlance. As an officer of the Indian Forest Service (IFS), I was doing my training at the Shri Krishna Institute Public Administration just across the road from the Raj Bhawan. Many officers were visiting from Patna and staying at the institute’s guest house. They were also milling around the resplendent surroundings of the Raj Bhawan.

      The staff of the guest house who belonged to the scheduled tribes were in a jubilant mood. I asked one of them, a gentleman named Khalkho, as to what the formation of Jharkhand meant for him. His instant response, “abua dishum, abua raj,” which translates as “our state, our rule,” still rings in my ears. Khalkho also went on to inform me that henceforth it would be his children, not dikus, the local term for outsiders, who would get preference in  jobs.

      Despite two decades of abua raj in abua dishum, all is clearly not well in Jharkhand. Berkela is barely 15 kilometers from Chaibasa, the district headquarters of Pashchimi Singhbhum. Scheduled tribes form 67.3% of the population in the district, and the region is rich both in mineral and forest resources. Forest cover forms about 47% of the area, making the district rich in biodiversity. The famous Saranda forest, known for excellent Sal trees and its natural regeneration, is also located here. Much of the Jharkhand’s mineral wealth, especially iron ore, is found under these forests.

      These rich resources have not improved the living standards of scheduled tribes of the area. Instead, the forests have become home to the Naxals who take refuge there. Various development agencies have shied away from this area. Only the forest department dares to venture there to fulfill its duty to protect and conserve Pashchimi Singhbum’s forests for posterity. The Naxal attack will certainly sap the department’s morale.

      To combat Naxalism, the forest department has to connect with local communities. Addressing their livelihood issues is essential for winning the trust of marginalized people in a resource-rich land. Only winning goodwill in Pashchimi Singhbhum and elsewhere would help combat the Naxal menace.

      Yet there is a problem. First, the mandate of the forest department is mainly the protection, conservation and development of forests, not providing livelihood or improving living standards for local communities. Second, the department lacks adequate resources to reach out to communities even if it was given the mandate to do so. The budget allocations for forest departments across India have been low and Jharkhand is no exception.

      Involve Indigenous Communities to Save Forests

      Few realize that forests and indigenous communities have a symbiotic relationship whether in the Amazon or in Pashchimi Singhbhum. They worship nature and tend to revere trees. They have used forest resources sustainably for centuries if not millennia. Therefore, it is important for any forest department to work with these communities. To be fair to the forest department in Jharkhand, it is already making an effort to do so. However, it faces a vicious timber mafia that is hell-bent on chopping down trees to meet rising urban demand. Mining — legal and illegal — is another threat to forests and local communities. Too often, the forest department finds itself outgunned and is unable to protect these communities or the forests they live in.

      Goal 15 of the Sustainable Development Goals of the United Nations aims to “protect, restore and promote sustainable use of terrestrial ecosystems, sustainably manage forests, combat desertification, and halt and reverse land degradation and halt biodiversity loss.” To achieve this, the government of Jharkhand has to focus on people-oriented natural resources governance. Simply put, they have to involve local communities in the conservation of forests and make the forest department work closely with them.

      My experience of working in various forests in Jharkhand tells me that sometimes, overzealous measures by dogmatic forest officials do more harm than good. They often take draconian action against indigenous communities for petty offenses that probably should not have been illegal in the first place. After all, these communities have to live. The forests are their only sustenance. So, draconian implementation of some laws leads to the forest department losing the trust and faith of the indigenous communities.

      Of course, there are many forest officials who are empathetic, courageous and exceptional. They interact with local communities on a day-to-day basis. Indeed, these officials maintain high moral standards even when their very lives are in danger.

      The Naxals are not like Russian or Chinese communists of the last century. They do not really have any ideology. Instead, they have become a vocation for unemployed, disgruntled and misguided youths. Many Naxals are recruited by intimidation and are then subjected to indoctrination. Quite a few of them start enjoying the power that comes from wielding a gun. These youths invariably come from marginalized indigenous communities and find Naxal propaganda seductive.

      To counter the Naxals, both the state and central governments must gain the confidence of the indigenous communities living in the forests. To do so, the government must protect their forest-based livelihood. It must also generate sustained employment through forest-based skill development programs that teach indigenous communities to put their incredibly rare know-how to good use.

      Such policies would increase the living standard of local people. They would also turn the indigenous communities into the eyes and ears of the government, thwarting Naxal violence. These policies would also involve the delegation of some powers and financial authority to local forest officials and indigenous communities. It would be fair to say that it is time for a real abua raj in abua dishum.

      *(Atul Singh, the founder, CEO and editor-in-chief of Fair Observer, provided inputs for this article.)

      The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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      A Year On, the Clean India Mission Falls Short

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      Research amidst the COVID-19 pandemic has shown that the virus is transmitted through wastewater. This makes it crucial to revisit the goals of India’s ambitious Swachh Bharat Mission (Clean India Mission, or SBM) that came to a close almost exactly a year ago. While there were substantial improvements made in toilet coverage, a lack of data clarity muddies an understanding of exactly how large these improvements were across the country. According to government estimates, national sanitation coverage was 51% in 2014 when SBM began and reached 78% in 2018, less than a year prior to the end of the program. While this certainly shows progress — the national average was just under 26% in 1999 — no one would think to take these numbers and simply round up to 100%.  

      But at the close of the SBM last fall, this is exactly what Prime Minister Narendra Modi did. Speaking to a crowd, Modi proclaimed that India was now completely open defecation free (ODF), with sanitation coverage reported by the SBM portal as 100% in rural areas and, inexplicably, 105% in urban areas. From the start of the 2014 campaign, the central government maintained that in just five short years, India would be ODF. Despite the gains made, a singular focus on meeting steep targets in a very short amount of time seems to have put Modi in a tight spot by the time October 2019 rolled around. 

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      The gaps have been, at times, glaring. News reports from established outlets all over the country reported open defecation in areas that were already recorded as ODF. A 2018 study by the Rice Institute estimated an open defecation rate of 44%, meaning nearly half of the sampled population was still engaging in the practice hardly a year before SBM ended. In urban areas the picture looks a bit better: 95% of urban households access an improved toilet. But this includes community toilets, which may be used by hundreds of other families and are often plagued with maintenance, hygiene and safety issues. Furthermore, one survey from 18 states identified over 48,000 manual scavengers still cleaning “dry” toilets which do not discharge into sewer lines.

      Social Pressure-Cooker

      What explains these inconsistencies? The use of shame-based tactics to stop open defecation, alongside a rush to meet ODF goals, have built up a pressure-cooker environment. The SBM has continued prior national efforts that deemphasized technical solutions and focused heavily on strategies to encourage behavior change at the local level. One such strategy is Community-Led Total Sanitation (CLTS), which hinges on “triggering” disgust and extreme emotions among community members to spur the abandonment of open defecation. Despite some concerns about shame-based approaches, the SBM continued with the CLTS Foundation and others as implementation partners.

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      But open defecation is an issue that needs more than short-term emotional reactions. The longstanding practice is mired in cultural tradition, casteist taboos and environmental factors, among others. Some reasons people give for it is that they do not wish to empty a pit themselves, that it is considered more hygienic to defecate further away from the home — certainly reasonable considering how few poor Indian homes have running water — or that community toilets are dirty and unsafe, so squatting in a quiet area nearby is actually preferable.

      In the SBM environment, people who have not built a toilet, for whatever reason, are highly likely to experience retaliation for continuing to defecate in the open. Because Indian culture is quite collective — the actions of one person are seen to have radiating effects on the family and community — sometimes social pressure can play a role in nudging behavior change. However, this is a slippery slope. In India’s highly unequal society, characterized by stark gender and caste-based hierarchies amidst a wide array of languages and ethnicities, such strategies have the potential to be misused, with large social costs.

      There is ample evidence to show this. In June 2017, Zafar Hussein, a local community leader agitating against the eviction of his settlement in Rajasthan, was allegedly beaten to death by local officials for trying to stop officials from taking photographs of women defecating in the open. His death was reported by multiple outlets. In other areas of Maharashtra, people have been followed by a loud band, jailed or fined for defecating in the open.

      Walls of shame have been instituted by local village councils onto which the names and photographs of people defecating openly are be pasted. These individuals were often removed from eligibility for local government programs. The previously mentioned Rice Institute study also recorded coercion and threats of the loss of government rations as a way to bring down open defecation rates. Notably, the study found that Dalits and Adivasis were the most likely to face such behaviors. India’s Health Ministry has publicly denounced the results of the Rice survey. But in September last year, weeks before Modi’s ODF declaration, two young Dalit children were beaten to death in their village in Madhya Pradesh for defecating in the open.

      Numbers, Strategies and Health Equity

      These debates over sanitation data are not merely academic exercises. They have real, material impacts on people. In some ways, the above tragedies are not surprising. If a hasty approach is taken toward declaring areas ODF, it follows that any activity hinting that this claim is not matched by reality will be quashed. Despite this, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation bestowed the Global Goalkeeper Award upon Modi last year. It is surprising that one of the largest, most influential health organizations in the world, committed to facts and data, accepted without question the Indian prime minister’s claims, failing to consider all the evidence to the contrary.

      So what is the solution? Certainly, the answer is not to give up on sanitation programming as the need remains great. There are several organizations on the ground that have successfully integrated mobilization with communities, technical expertise and a sustained presence through which people are not merely pressured to stop a practice but meaningfully guided toward an alternative and given the facts and tools to integrate that alternative into their lives.

      However, this takes a more long-term presence, a less single-minded focus on quick targets, a commitment toward waste management infrastructure besides just toilets, and a willingness to meet people where they are. Further, the same people who have fallen through the gaps in the SBM are those with a lot to lose during the current pandemic: the rural poor, slum-dwellers, sanitation workers, manual laborers and migrants. Brutal crackdowns against those who kept working amidst India’s COVID-19 lockdown illustrate that retaliation cannot continue to be a solution when reality does not match the official word. Amidst the pandemic, sanitation infrastructure and the transparency of data surrounding it are necessities that cannot afford to wait.

      The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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      China-India Clash Wakes Up Tibet’s Ghost of Independence

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      Wildfires have been burning in California, Brazil and Siberia. Brexit is causing unending headaches in both Europe and the UK. The American election campaign has kicked off in high gear. Deaths from COVID-19 have crossed one million. US President Donald Trump’s taxes were the talk of the town, before he landed in hospital with COVID-19 himself. In such a milieu, it is easy to overlook a tempest in Asia. On October 5, China threatened to make India’s latest strategic tunnel unserviceable even as Indian engineers race against time and tough conditions to bolster their country’s border infrastructure.

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      For the last few months, India and China have been clashing over icy heights on the roof of the world. Their undefined border and contesting claims are causing increasing unease in the world’s largest and most populous continent. They are also leading to new moves on the geopolitical chessboard that might have historic consequences.

      Tibetan Troops, Article 370 and Ladakh

      Tenzin Nyima, a company leader in India’s shadowy Special Frontier Force (SFF) and a stateless Tibetan refugee, died on the contested Line of Actual Control that separates territories controlled by India and China. Hundreds of thousands of Tibetan refugees have lived in India since the Dalai Lama’s flight to the country in 1959. A select few serve in the SFF, an extremely tough outfit that excels in high-altitude operations.

      The Tibetan Kashag was the de facto independent government of Tibet before the invasion by China’s People’s Liberation Army (PLA) in 1950, which was condemned by the United Nations General Assembly. The SFF fights under the snow lion flag of the Tibetan Kashag. The Central Tibetan Administration, known as the Tibetan Government in Exile, also uses the same flag. Understandably, the PLA, the Communist Party of China (CCP) and Chinese nationalists are not too fond of this symbol.

      Nyima’s funeral in Ladakh occurred with much honor. Importantly, Ram Madhav, then the general secretary of India’s ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), was present at the funeral. His admirers refer to him as the “Kissinger of India.” More pertinently, Madhav is one of the most influential political figures in India and a key ideologue on strategic matters. He was a key architect of the BJP’s Kashmir policy and was instrumental in removing Article 370 last year, which ended Jammu and Kashmir’s autonomy. By honoring Nyima, Madhav is making a symbolic but profound point: He is signaling support for the Tibetan cause.

      As most Indians and India hands know, the BJP had been vowing to remove Article 370 for decades. Once Prime Minister Narendra Modi won historic reelection last year, the BJP made a bold bet and removed this article from the constitution. It carved out Ladakh from the state of Jammu and Kashmir as a separate union territory. The people of this land practice Tibetan Buddhism, share ethnic kinship with Tibetans and follow the Dalai Lama. By removing Article 370 and giving Ladakhis their own territory, India has upset not only Pakistan but also China.

      Salami Tactics

      Historically, India’s stand on Tibet has been ineffectual. Despite domestic opposition, Jawaharlal Nehru acquiesced to the Chinese conquest of Tibet. Even after the disastrous defeat of 1962, India’s first prime minister did not come down on the side of the Tibetans. The Dalai Lama has lived in India for decades, but Delhi has never openly supported Tibetan independence or autonomy. In contrast, China has allied with Pakistan and opposed India’s interests in Jammu, Kashmir and Ladakh.

      Since Modi came to power in 2014, he has met Chinese President Xi Jinping 18 times. He has been conciliatory and accommodating to Xi. Even before Modi, India opened its markets to Chinese products. This economic engagement was for a strategic reason: India wanted peace with its larger neighbor and aimed to wean it away from Pakistan. Instead, China has consistently followed salami tactics, and, this year, it cut off a larger slice of Indian territory.

      Chinese actions led to Modi losing face earlier this year. The Indian National Congress (INC) party tried to paint him as the new Nehru. For the Nehru dynasty that still leads the INC, a debacle for Modi would wash off Nehru’s sins and damage the BJP. In the brutal battle for national dominance, an embarrassment for Modi would boost the INC. Hence, it is no surprise that Modi and Madhav are pushing back so strongly against China.

      In recent years, India has been preparing for a two-front war. In 2018, India’s Air Force conducted its largest exercise to counter a joint China-Pakistan invasion. The junior minister in charge of border roads is General V.K. Singh, the former army chief. More than most, he understands the key need for border infrastructure and has been pushing hard for it. This has caused the Chinese grief because Indian infrastructure upgradation of its Central Asian tracts chips away at the PLA’s strategic advantage.

      Public Sympathy

      In recent weeks, Modi has gained public sympathy. The Indian public blames Xi for backstabbing him and the Indian intelligentsia for being too naive, if not deluded, about China. This public support has allowed Modi to take a stronger stance against Beijing. The PLA and Xi have been caught off guard. At high altitudes, Chinese troops have been weighed, measured and found wanting. Indian troops have not rolled over as in 1962. In fact, they have given the PLA a bloody nose. This is deeply embarrassing for a country with superpower pretensions. China is setting itself up as a counterpart to the US. Anything short of a conclusive victory against a country China deems to be its inferior would be nothing short of a national disaster.

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      As two of the authors explained in a historical analysis of the India-China conflict, Beijing has become more aggressive since Xi came to power. The PLA has consistently and constantly claimed territory India considers its own. As a result, confrontations have been on the rise. There is a real risk that Xi might be overplaying his hand.

      What Xi fails to appreciate is that 2020 is not 1962. Over the last few months, China has lost the element of surprise. Indian troops are mobilized all along the border and have more experience of high altitudes. Furthermore, Tibetans and other mountain troops fighting for India are local lads with old scores to settle with the PLA. They come from communities who practice Tibetan Buddhism. Hence, they resent Beijing for cultural genocide in Tibet and do not want to live under its yoke. These troops are fighting for their freedom and are in a do-or-die mood. The next clash could easily spill over into an all-out war.

      Xi forgets that India has less to lose in case of war. A decisive defeat would merely confirm its underdog status and win international sympathy. Even if India loses but its troops acquit themselves well, China would be humbled. However, if China loses, Xi himself and his CCP might find themselves in trouble. On a simple cost-benefit calculus, a Xi-led China has no rational reason to go to war against a Modi-led India.

      There is another key reason for China to wind down tensions. After decades of licking their wounds, Tibetans have now openly entered the fray under their fabled snow lion flag and with the blessing of India’s political leadership. It is no longer two militaries clashing for icy crags but two ideas colliding head-on. A military clash might be about to turn into a political, religious and cultural conflict. The Tibetan snow lion of independence threatens Beijing’s holy cow of Greater China.

      The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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      India’s New Agricultural Policy After Decades of Farmer Suffering

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      In India, June 5 was a turning point in the history of the country’s agriculture. The government passed three ordinances to unshackle farmers from the restrictive marketing regime that has managed the marketing of agriculture produce for decades. This sweeping stroke promises to bring the entire world of farming technology, post-harvest management and marketing channels at the doorstep of the farmer. The challenge now is to put these promises into action. The national vision of the farm sector is to double the income of farmers by 2022. This move is revolutionary since income is intrinsically linked to how the markets of the harvested produce function.

      First, the Farmers’ Produce Trade and Commerce (Promotion and Facilitation) Ordinance provides much-awaited freedom of choice to farmers and traders. Now, farmers can sell and purchase produce through trading platforms other than the notorious markets operated by the Agriculture Produce Marketing Committee (APMC). An article published on Fair Observer in 2019 rightly observed how forcing farmers to sell their produce to APMC markets led to the problem of monopsony. As the only buyer of produce, APMC markets faced no competition and offered farmers very low prices. This ordinance promises to increase farmer incomes significantly.

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      Second, the Farmers (Empowerment and Protection) Agreement on Price Assurance and Farm Services Ordinance further empowers farmers by creating a framework for direct engagement with processors, agri-business firms and large retailers.

      Finally, the Essential Commodities (Amendment) Ordinance releases farm produce from the restrictions imposed by the Essential Commodities Act by severely curtailing regulations on farm produce. Such restrictions will now be permissible only under extremely emergent circumstances.

      The trigger for these sweeping changes may have been the disruption in the production and supply chains due to the COVID-19 pandemic. The health crisis and the resulting nationwide lockdown necessitated drastic steps to provide immediate relief to the agriculture sector. However, we must not forget that agricultural marketing reforms have been in public discourse for nearly two decades. In practice, they always appeared to take two steps backward for every step taken forward. Petty politics, instead of agricultural needs, dominated these decisions. Hence the officials of the Ministry of Agriculture deserve recognition. They have used a crisis as an opportunity to free farmers from the oppressive yoke of red tape, rigged markets and little choice.

      Poor Infrastructure, Corruption and Lack of Accessibility

      Before discussing the details of the three ordinances, let us briefly review the existing structure and context of the marketing of agriculture produce. The overarching legislations governing agricultural markets are the APMC acts of the respective Indian states. These were enacted with the laudable objectives of ensuring fair prices to farmers and safeguarding them from the exploitation of middlemen. They aimed to enable farmers to sell their produce easily.

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      These acts created the institution of the APMC, which operates agricultural markets commonly called APMC mandis, the Indian word for a market. Ironically, the APMCs have achieved the precise opposite of what their architects envisaged. In their enthusiasm to ensure stability, most state governments discouraged the rise of private mandis and even criminalized setting up competing markets. This created monstrous monopolies of APMC mandis controlled by influential cartels. Instead of offering fair prices to farmers, these mandis artificially manipulated prices. The management of APMC mandis remained opaque and exploited farmers while claiming to serve them. In particular, small and marginal farmers were at the mercy of wealthy traders at these markets.

      Unsurprisingly, the January 2019 report of the parliamentary standing committee on agriculture noted that the APMC acts had not achieved their purpose. With cartels at APMC mandis dictating the terms of trade, farmers face unreasonable deductions from the sale returns of their produce in the form of market fees, commission charges and other levies that rightfully should be paid by traders. On occasions, these farmers are charged the same fees multiple times. Corruption is rampant. Aside from a handful of exceptions, mandis tend to have poor infrastructure. Basic facilities for post-harvest management of agricultural produce such as grading, sorting and packaging are lacking. Supporting services, such as banks, post offices and resting places, have also failed to develop. If some facilities exist in some mandis, they are of extremely poor quality.

      Additionally, the number of such markets is grossly inadequate. The National Commission on Farmers has recommended that an agriculture market should serve a geographical area of not more than 80 square kilometers, whereas the existing national average is 496 square kilometers. Both the quantity and quality of APMC mandis are lacking. It’s tragic that an institution established to protect farmers from exploitation has become the source of it. It is for this reason that the parliamentary report recommended that creating alternative marketing platforms should be a priority. It observed that the APMC acts had led to restrictive markets and obstructed the emergence of competitive markets. Regrettably, the Indian farmer did not have the right to choose his customer thanks to the APMC acts.

      The APMC mandis tend to be noisy, messy, chaotic and unhygienic. So, it is no surprise that a large number of farmers, especially the small and marginal ones, do not sell to APMC mandis, but they do to intermediaries and unlicensed traders. Though there are no official figures available, various studies place the share of these informal intermediaries or middlemen at 30-55%. The figure is lower in the case of food grains but very high for horticulture produce.

      There exist, in many places, several layers between the farmers and the mandis. Thus, the safety net that these mandis aim to provide farmers is already diluted. The much-maligned middleman has become an integral part of the agriculture marketing system. One of the most significant aspects of the three ordinances promulgated on June 5 is to recognize and integrate these middlemen into a liberalized regulatory framework. Now, they can enter into bona fide trade relations with farmers.

      A New, Better Approach

      In 2003, the Ministry of Agriculture attempted reform after prolonged discussions. It came out with a model legislation for states to emulate: the APMC Marketing (Development and Regulation) Act, 2003. Curiously, the focus here also remained on regulation; the preamble mentions “improved regulation in marketing” before it talks of the “development of an efficient marketing system.” In contrast, the recent ordinances offer a pleasant contrast. The term “regulation” itself has been done away with. The first ordinance declares its objective to be “promotion and facilitation” and the second one “empowerment and protection.” These ordinances present a paradigm shift in Indian agricultural policy.

      The key objectives and their provisions in the trade and commerce ordinance are as follows:

      creation of an ecosystem of freedom of choice to farmers and traders for sale and purchase of farmers’ produce
      formation of competitive alternative trading channels
      promotion of transparent and barrier-free intra-state trade and inter-state trade
      facilitation of trade of produce outside the physical premises of notified markets
      creation of viable electronic trading platforms

      As per the new ordinances, farmers are to be paid on the day of the transaction or within a maximum of three working days. They do away with the onerous licensing system that required farmers to obtain several licenses to trade in different mandis within the same state. Gone is the market fee in the “trading area,” which is defined as any area of transaction outside the present day-notified mandi.

      Now, APMC mandis will now face serious competition and might be spurred into reforming themselves. Further, to the great relief of farmers, the dispute resolution mechanism has been kept simple and local, with preference being accorded to resolution through conciliation. The ordinance also envisages a price information and market intelligence system, thus equipping farmers for determining the price of their produce.

      The key features of the price assurance and farm services ordinance are as follows:

      creation of a national framework on farming agreements
      protection and empowerment of farmers in their engagement with the likes of large agribusiness firms, wholesalers and large retailers
      promotion of remunerative price agreements and a fair and transparent framework

      The ordinance also recognizes the possibility of an adverse impact on the rights of sharecroppers in the changed business environment. Hence, it has a specific provision for protecting their rights. The risk of markets and prices is likely to be transferred from the farmers to the contracting entities. Finally, the essential commodities ordinance clearly states, “the regulatory system needs to be liberalized … for the purpose of increasing the competitiveness in the agriculture sector and enhancing the income of farmers.” Accordingly, regulation of farm produce such as cereals, pulses, oilseeds, edible oils, onions and potatoes is only possible in extraordinary circumstances such as war, famine, a natural calamity of grave nature or an extraordinary price rise.

      Ensuring Lasting Change

      The reforms in agriculture marketing by way of these three ordinances are holistic. A primary problem with earlier legislation was that farmers could only sell their produce to specified traders in particular locations. As a result, farmers have been inevitably pushed to alternative buyers outside the legal framework, including middlemen and direct buyers. Small and marginal farmers suffer from an inherent disadvantage in such an environment. They lack access to market information. Even when they have some information, they lack the capital and technology that high-value crops require. The liberalization of agricultural markets will increase revenue avenues for farmers and improve their monetary returns.

      The proof of the pudding is in eating. The success of the ordinances will be determined by their implementation, which must be carried out in letter and spirit. While the ordinances remove aberrations and deficiencies in the regulatory structure, achieving their goals requires a strengthening of institutional capacity and infrastructure. Investment in agriculture, post-harvest infrastructure and marketing framework are all grossly inadequate. While these reforms should spur investment, it would be premature to expect that to happen automatically. Further efforts and interventions are called for. The big challenge ahead is to implement these reforms in the incredibly diverse markets across the country and to build strong alternatives as envisaged by the new legislation.

      A seemingly unrelated point is important regarding these ordinances. A recent article criticized the bureaucracy for drafting documents in language that was “officialese or bureaucratese.” This pejorative term is used for language full of jargon that is wordy and vague. Such criticism cannot be leveled against these ordinances. They serve as exemplars for other official documents. They are simple, straightforward and eminently understandable. The philosophy, intention and objectives of the ordinances are effectively spelled out in the preambles, which are among the best-drafted government documents in recent times. The trick now lies in achieving what they say.

      *[The author is a former secretary of the Ministry of Fisheries, Animal Husbandry and Dairying for the Indian government.]

      The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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      in World Politics

      Kashmir’s History and Future Meet in Literature

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      For as long as one can remember, the stunningly beautiful valley of Kashmir has been a tinder box of clashing ideologies and religious beliefs. In the not too distant past, it was known as the land of Rishis, holy seers who combined the profound philosophies of Hinduism, Buddhism and Sufism to create a uniquely syncretic spiritual tradition.

      Today, it is the site of a bitter territorial dispute between India and Pakistan, a conflict that has resulted in scores of casualties and the forced expulsion of hundreds of thousands of Pandits, as Kashmir’s Hindus are commonly referred to.

      Author Rakesh K. Kaul’s first novel, “The Last Queen of Kashmir” (Harper Collins India, 2015), tries to shed light on the roots of this conflict by going back in time to explore the dramatic life of Kota Rani, the last ruler of the Hindu Lohara dynasty in Kashmir. Kota ruled as monarch until 1339, when she was deposed by Shah Mir, who became the first Muslim ruler of Kashmir.

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      His most recent work, “Dawn: The Warrior Princess of Kashmir” (Penguin India, 2019), is an unexpected foray into the far distant future. Set in 3000 AD, the book combines artificial intelligence, genetics and quantum theory with the ancient wisdom of Kashmir’s traditional Niti stories, which inspire Dawn to overcome seemingly impossible odds to save humanity from impending destruction.

      In this guest edition of The Interview, Vikram Zutshi talks to Rakesh Kaul about the inspiration behind his two novels, childhood memories of his strife-torn homeland and how his grandfather, the famed Kashmiri mystic Pandit Gopi Krishna, guides the trajectory of his life and work.

      Vikram Zutshi: You have written what is possibly the first science fiction novel set in Kashmir. What inspired you to choose the genre of science fiction to tell this story and how does it adapt itself to Kashmiri history and culture?

      Rakesh Kaul: I wish I could claim the honor of being a pioneer with “Dawn: The Warrior Princess of Kashmir.” But much as I admire them, I have many literary ancestors who are the equals of Joseph Campbell, George Orwell and Aldous Huxley. I am a mere upholder of a literary tradition that is over 2,000 years old. Western science fiction imagines possibilities like time travel, space exploration, parallel universes, extraterrestrial life. There are robots who are more advanced in their intelligence than humans.

      But all these themes were part of the stories in Kashmir, plus more. “Dawn” has in it an ancient story about a robot city with a remarkable safety override. The Puranic story of Indra’s net holds within it the concept of recursive universes. The pinnacle of these stories is of course the collection of stories in the Yoga Vasistha.

      The word “sahitya,” which means “literature,” was coined by Kuntaka in Kashmir. Within sahitya, there was a genre which dealt with all the above-mentioned themes but went beyond. One could say that if science fiction’s domain was all the possibilities within the bounded universe, then in Kashmir specifically — and India generally — the stories explored all the possibilities within the unbounded inner-verse.

      So, if you like “1984” or “Brave New World,” which are sci fi classics, then “Dawn” is going to take you to a whole new level. Even more than Joseph Campbell, the stories that I have brought are not mere myths or fantasies; they reveal a cognitive organ and knowledge acquisition capability which unlocks the deterministic laws of nature in a manner that science is just beginning to grapple with.

      Zutshi: What does the story arc of the central character, Dawn, tell us about the state of the world today?

      Kaul: All science fiction stories in the West and their Indic counterparts, the Niti stories, deal with the existential question of the arc of one’s way of life. The mind is seduced by utopia and yet ends up in dystopia. One ignores at one’s peril the addictive narrative wars happening today that are shaped and served by technology. The world, whether global or local, is heading toward a duality of monopolistic cults that fiercely demand total obeisance. Non-conformity results in a flameout at the hands of troll armies.

      Artificial intelligence is the omniscient eye watching over us. What we cannot ignore is that computer power is doubling every 20 months, data every six months, and the AI brain every three months. The champions of AI are promising that we will have sentience in 30 years. That is a close encounter of the third kind. That is within the lifespan of the readers. The danger to you as an individual has never been greater. One cannot take lightly the rising depression and suicide graphs coupled with desperate drug usage. Hence, the vital necessity for Dawn. 

      Dawn is the last girl left standing on earth in 3000 AD. She is facing an army of weaponized AIs and mind-controlled automatons; they rule over a deadly world where men have lost their souls and women have been slain — all heading to Sarvanash, the Great Apocalypse. This is a story of a close encounter of the seventh kind. How does Dawn arm herself? Can she win? Great Niti stories remind us that if the mind is a frenemy, then the need to nurture what is beyond the mind that one can turn to and trust is paramount. The Dawn lifehack that is presented is time-tested but oh so amazingly simple, yet powerful.

      Zutshi: Is the characterization of the main protagonist based on a real-life person?

      Kaul: “Dawn” in Sanskrit is “usha.” Usha is the most important goddess in the Rig Veda, the oldest extant text in the world. By contrast, none of the goddesses that we think about today are even mentioned there. Dawn is the harbinger of the rebirth of life each morn. She is the only Indian goddess who has spread around the world. Usha’s cognates are Eos in Greek, Aurora in Roman and Eostre in Anglo-Saxon [mythology], which is the root of the word Easter —the festival of resurrection. Interestingly, Usha is also the name of the sanctuary city where the Sanhedrin, [Israel’s] rabbinical court, fled to in the 2nd century. She is also the goddess of order, the driver away of chaos and darkness. She is dawn, she is hope, she is the wonder leading to resurrection.

      Humans recognized her wonder a long time ago. They imagined Dawn born at the birth of the universe, whose one-pointed mission is to make darkness retreat and drive ahead fearlessly.

      But Dawn is also a tribute to the warrior princesses of Kashmir, a land which was celebrated for its women in practice and not just poetry. They were not merely martial warriors, nor just holy warriors or ninja warriors, but much more. The Kashmiris enshrined the dawn mantra within themselves, men and women, and repeat it to this day. In my novels, the protagonists repeatedly draw upon it.

      Zutshi: You have spoken about Niti, the traditional storytelling technique of Kashmir. Please elaborate on Niti for the lay reader and how it informed your work. 

      Kaul: “Niti” means “the wise conduct of life.” The first collection of Niti stories from Kashmir is the 2,000-year-old celebrated Panchatantra, which is the most translated collection of stories from India. Kashmiri stories have found their way into the Aesop and Grimm fairy tales, Chaucer and Fontaine.

      The Kashmiris maintained that one is born with only one birthright, namely the freedom to achieve what is one’s life quest. So, the existential question is, What is the “way of life” by which one can maximize one’s human potential? The Kashmiris defined life’s end goal in heroic terms as unbounded fulfillment while alive, not limited by the physical and encompassing the metaphysical. But how does a mere Niti story enable you to achieve fulfillment and consciousness? Niti’s cultural promise is that it enables one to face any threat, any challenge in reaching one’s goal as one travels through time and space.

      How does Niti work? Let us start with the Western perspective first. Descartes famously said that wonder was the first passion of the soul. Kashmir spent a thousand years studying this phenomenon and helps us penetrate deeper here. When we have an experience that is a total surprise, we go WOW — an acronym for “wonder of wonder.” When we go wow, it is expressing, How can this be? We not only accept the limited capacity of our senses and the mind, but we also have a profound moment of self-recognition that there is an unlimited capacity in us to experience what lies beyond our knowledge.

      The wormhole between the two brings the relish of the state of wonder which in India was described as “adbhuta rasa” in the text “Natyashastra,” written by another Kashmiri illuminati, “adbhuta” meaning “wonder” and “rasa” meaning “juice.” So, in the wow moment you momentarily taste the wonder juice. All Niti stories are written in the adbhuta rasa literary style, and so is Dawn.

      Zutshi: Your first novel, “The Last Queen of Kashmir,” inspired by the story of Kota Rani, was a hit with Kashmiris in India and the diaspora. What would you like readers to take away from the book and how is it relevant in our times?

      Embed from Getty Images

      Kaul: Yes, much to my surprise the novel received critical acclaim and sold out! The second edition will be coming out worldwide in a month or so, with another beautiful cover of Kota Rani! “The Last Queen of Kashmir” is a historical epic about a great queen from India who informs and inspires. It engages audiences while serving as a cautionary tale for today. It was a precursor of what is now being called fail-lit. Much like Icarus, Kashmir’s humanist civilization of oneness and inclusivity flew too close to the Sun.

      The story provides lessons on the importance of protecting, preserving and perpetuating our social freedoms in a unified society from being divided by religious and cultural conflict. Kota Rani’s story shows that we should look for leaders who protect freedom and defeat the pied pipers within who threaten us with tyranny in the guise of offering utopia.

      Yet, “The Last Queen of Kashmir” is eventually a resurrection story to show us how the light of knowledge and the power of freedom can conquer all enemies. Kota was described as always captivating, never captive. It is a highly recommended read for all women because its notion of femininity and feminine power may surprise them. Kota Rani is memory and Dawn is imagination. Both are reflections of the same double reflexive power. Memory is what makes who you are, and imagination is what makes who you can be. 

      Zutshi: As a Kashmiri Hindu who moved to the United States fairly early in life, what are your earliest memories of your ancestral homeland? What do you hope to see in Kashmir’s future?

      Kaul: My earliest memories are of the journey that we would take to my homeland from Delhi, where my parents had migrated to after the Kabali raids in October 1947. I remember my mother dropping a coin into the raging river Jhelum and praying for a safe journey as the bus would slowly creak across the hanging bridge in the hill town of Ramban.

      Once there was portage across the old Banihal tunnel, where a section had caved in, only small, open jeeps could ferry us with our bags from our buses across to the waiting buses on the other side. The old tunnel was dark with a few small lamps that only accentuated the shadows. There were sections which were deliberately left bare in the older tunnel so that the massive water flow inside the mountain could rush out. They did not have the technology in those early days to divert the water. The sound of the rushing water still resonates inside me.

      Kashmir was a place of sensory overload. I would sip the nectar endlessly from the honeysuckles, pluck the cherries growing in our garden. My cousin would rent a boat, and much like Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn we would paddle through the water canals in our neighborhood raiding the mulberry trees growing by the banks of the river. We would wake up early in the morning and go for a hike to Hari Parvat, walking through the Shia neighborhoods with the graveyards. Once we saw a crowd of [Shia] self-flagellate as part of their religious observances, and we hid until they passed by. There would be other mob gatherings, but we were culturally trained to avoid them.

      Once a year, we would go to my grandfather’s retreat overlooking the Nishat. It was a huge apple orchard. Evening time we would scurry back to the cabin because then the bears would come from the other side of the hill. Night was their foraging time.

      Nothing compared, though, to the experiences when the family would rent a houseboat, technically a doonga. We would go to the shrine of Khir Bhavani for a week. The boat would move slowly, and there would be endless tea poured from the samovar accompanied by the local breads. Family life seemed to have kith and kin as an integral part. There was a feeling of intimate connectivity. At night, all the cousins would gather. We would spread the mattresses on the bottom of the boat and share the blankets. Then it was storytime. The girls would cry that we were scaring them when the boys would share the monster stories. But they would not leave the group because they did not want to miss out. I have brought some of these Kashmiri monsters and their stories into “Dawn.” 

      But, ultimately, Kashmir was about the mystic experience. I would sit in the inner sanctorum of our small temple at the end of the bridge on our little canal. There was barely space for a few. I would watch the water drops drip endlessly on the lingam. The small trident would be by the side. I would look at the paintings on the wall, each one a story and wonder about it all. The best, of course, would be the nighttime aarti at Khir Bhavani. It seemed that all of humanity was there with a lit lamp in their hands. The faces of the devout women and girls would be luminous, the moonlight would give them a sheen. There was beauty, love and innocence in the air.

      As a Kashmiri, I would want the lakir ka fakir (blind ideologues) to disappear and the artist to reign supreme. Translation: Those who police others either morally or ideologically or religiously or by force of arms should go bye-bye. The rest will follow naturally, and the valley will emerge from its long, deep darkness.

      Embed from Getty Images

      Zutshi: You are the grandson of famed Kashmiri mystic, Pandit Gopi Krishna. In what way have his work and teachings informed and influenced the trajectory of your life?  

      Kaul: The Pandit was the last rishi of Kashmir, a lineage that goes back to the formation of the valley by Rishi Kashyapa. Deepak Chopra said of him, “Pandit Gopi Krishna was a pioneer in the land of spirituality. His insights into the quantum nature of the body predate the scientific discoveries of today. I salute this great sage and scientist of the twentieth century.” Dr. Karan Singh, the crown prince of Kashmir who gave the eulogy at his funeral said, “In the 19th century, India gave the world Ramakrishna; in the 20th century it has given the world Gopi Krishna.”

      I suppose he shaped me even before I was born. He made the decision that he was going to marry my mother without giving any dowry to break that pernicious social custom. His father-in-law begged him, [saying] that they had bought a priceless wedding sari the day that my mother was born. But to no avail. My mother was married in a simple cotton sari. My inception was in simplicity.

      He was my first guru, and he continues to guide me. I learned from him the critical importance of being a family man, of community service, especially toward widows and destitute women, of being a fearless sastra warrior, of words being bridges, about poetry and the arts and, best of all, about the worlds beyond. I treasure his letters. I can never forget the talk that he gave at the United Nations where 600 Native American elders attended. It was a prophecy come true for them where it was stated that a wise man from the East would come and give them wisdom in a glasshouse.

      Would I have dared to embark on a 12-year journey to bring the story of a hidden Kota Rani without the inspiration of what it took him to bring his story to the world? No. Especially when writing “Dawn,” his work was invaluable in steering me in describing the close encounter of the seventh kind. What is the biotechnology of the evolutionary force within us? And then in the epilogue for “Dawn,” it is all him because only he has traveled there. Even now as I write this, his beaming face smiles at me. I smile back.

      The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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      India Must Modernize Its Inefficient Defense Production System

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      In a complex world, countries have to clearly identify and evaluate external threats on a continuous basis. These are no longer only military, insurgent and terror, but also scientific, technological and economic.

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      In the Indian situation, foreign powers have engaged in cyberattacks, electronic warfare, illegal fake currency circulation and media manipulation to exacerbate the country’s internal fault lines. To counter such a multiplicity of threats, India must build up comprehensive national power. More than ever, this power is a composite of economic, industrial, scientific, technological, innovation, military and intelligence capabilities.

      Threats, External and Internal

      India is the only country that shares land borders with two nuclear states: China and Pakistan. With Pakistan, India shares a maritime boundary too. Pakistan, a country born after the partitioning of British India in 1947, has been congenitally hostile to and consistently opposed the very idea of India. It waged wars against India in 1948, 1965 and 1971. A little more than two decades ago, it destroyed a promising Indian peace initiative by taking over strategic heights in Kargil, an Indian district in Ladakh, provoking a limited but bloody conflict in 1999.

      The bitter bone of contention between India and Pakistan is Kashmir. As a self-defined haven for Muslims, Pakistan refuses to accept Kashmir as a part of India. It has backed an armed insurgency as part of its strategy to bleed India with a thousand cuts. Pakistan’s goal is to dismember its larger neighbor, beginning with Kashmir. In the 1980s, it backed a bloody insurgency in Punjab, which eventually failed. Since then, it has doubled down on Kashmir.

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      Pakistan’s fixation with India has defined its foreign policy since its inception. During the Cold War, Islamabad allied with the US, mainly to wrest Kashmir from India. In recent years, it has aligned itself with China to counter India in every possible manner.

      China’s relations with India are becoming increasingly complicated. This can be explained as a big power competition. This began as early as the 1950s when both countries were emerging from the shadows of imperial powers after two centuries of domination. In 1962, India lost to China in a brief but traumatic war. Since then, the two countries have not been able to agree upon a border, and the Chinese have been nibbling away at Indian territory more aggressively in recent years. At its essence, the Chinese game plan is simple: China wants to emerge as a superpower and a rival to the US. It wants to block India’s rise as an Asian power and a rival in the region.

      Like any large and diverse country, India has numerous internal security challenges. Insurgency remains a serious threat in Kashmir as well as India’s northeastern region that borders Bhutan, China, Myanmar and Bangladesh. India has faced a communist Naxalite insurgency since the 1950s. Islamic extremism, aided and abetted by foreign powers and jihadi organizations, especially Pakistan and its proxies, is increasing dramatically. The long coastline of India makes it extremely vulnerable to terrorist attacks as the 2008 massacre in Mumbai demonstrated.

      Given such threats, it goes without saying that India needs a strong security apparatus of military, police and intelligence. Importantly, the country also requires a robust defense production apparatus for three reasons.

      First, India must have the ability to produce key requirements of its armed forces to enable them to be combat-ready. Otherwise, India would be dependent on imports and at the mercy of foreign suppliers, especially at critical times. Second, India must profit from new dual-use technologies and capabilities that emerge from defense production as France, Russia and the US have demonstrated repeatedly. These have a multiplier effect in boosting a country’s technological base, driving growth in its economy and creating new jobs. Third, India cannot rely exclusively on the public exchequer for ensuring defense preparedness, given competing demands on the budget, paucity of foreign exchange reserves, dependency on Middle Eastern oil and welfare-oriented policies. Hence, the participation of the private sector in defense production is a sine qua non.

      The Story of Defense Production in India    

      India has credible experience in defense production for over two centuries. The British set up a gun carriage factory in 1801 that began production in 1802 and is still operational today. World War I provided the impetus for the British to increase production. The number and range of these factories increased significantly until the end of World War II. Defense facilities and their management structure, namely the Ordnance Factory Board (OFB), are yet another legacy of the British like India’s bureaucracy, judiciary and military.

      After the defeat in 1962, India created a number of defense public sector undertakings (DPSUs). These are units owned and managed by the government. Like most other government-owned entities, these units never really had any incentive to achieve excellence. They have been unable to satisfy the requirements of the armed forces even partially. India has consequently continued to import critical equipment from foreign original equipment manufacturers (OEMs). The foreign OEMs have earned the trust of the armed forces for quality, delivery schedules and even confidentiality. India continues to pay huge royalties for technologies transferred for producing imported equipment in the DPSUs.

      These foreign OEMs are largely privately owned but enjoy strong state support from their home governments. Yet India has not demonstrated the same level of trust in its own private sector companies. Even though India liberalized its economy in 1991, it permitted private sector participation in defense only in 2001. Nearly 20 years later, the private sector production of 170 billion rupees ($2.27 billion) comprises just about 21.3% of the 800 billion rupees ($10.67 billion) total defense sector. Most of this production is in low-value goods.

      While the US relies on Boeing, Raytheon and Northrop Grumman for many of its new defense technologies, India has entrusted the task of development of such technologies exclusively to its Defense Research and Development Organization (DRDO). In theory, India should be producing cutting-edge, high-quality defense material with institutions like the DRDO. The reality is very different

      In a nutshell, the present apparatus that India has for satisfying the requirements of its defense services is entirely inadequate. In view of the deteriorating security conditions on its borders and increasing internal threats, this failure could prove catastrophic. In the past, India’s failures led to colonization. Tomorrow, these might lead to Balkanization.

      What Has Gone Wrong?

      Ordnance factories are India’s oldest defense production units. They produce a vast variety of equipment and supplies. Run by the OFB, they fall under the administrative control of the Ministry of Defense. These OFB factories are run by officers of the Indian Ordnance Factory Service (IOFS) who are a part of Indian civil services. They are generalist administrators with little technological expertise.

      Like much of the government, the OFB is not accountable for quality, timeliness and efficiency. There is no pressure to produce returns on public investment. The OFB pays little attention to operational efficiency, and cost-effectiveness has seldom been part of its calculus. They do not even produce annual profit and loss statements or balance sheets. They function in absolute opacity as monopolies with captive buyers.

      The Directorate General of Quality Assurance (DGQA), another colonial legacy, is responsible for the quality assurance of products produced by OFB factories. It falls under the administrative control of the defense ministry just like the OFB. This arrangement is misguided. While the OFB is the producer, the DGQA is supposedly responsible for the quality of OFB products. The armed forces are the consumers but have no right to evaluate the quality of the products they use. The DGQA neither produces nor consumes and is not responsible or liable for poor quality or anything going wrong. It is bureaucratic, inefficient and incompetent. Over time, the DGQA has even acquired an odious reputation for its integrity. This has serious implications for India’s national security.

      Many in India have long recognized the need for reform. A proposal recently emerged to convert the OFB into a public sector company. This would make India’s 33 ordnance factories into DPSUs. Importantly, the DPSUs themselves have been a failure as explained above. This reform measure is ill-conceived, half-hearted and doomed to failure.

      The problems of the post-1962 DPSU model run deep too. They also operate as monopolies with the armed forces as their captive customers. DPSU employees enjoy complete job security, are not accountable for quality, delays or cost overruns. Strong unions resist any reforms. DPSUs operate in an environment of financial indiscipline. There is no compulsion to generate a reasonable return on capital and even continuous losses do not lead to closure. These losses have become a persistent drain on the public exchequer and suck up taxpayer money that could have gone to health, education or infrastructure.

      To be fair to DPSUs, they are not responsible for all their shortcomings. They have no autonomy to run their organizations. The Ministry of Defense micromanages recruitment, promotion, pay structure and investment decisions. DPSUs do very little in-house research or development. Instead, they rely on the DRDO or foreign licenses. Top management appointments by the government are far too often dispensed as patronage. Merit and achievement often become secondary considerations and, at times, interventions to promote a social justice agenda weaken DPSU performance.

      This performance has dangerous consequences. If a soldier guarding India’s borders gets inferior DPSU products, then it diminishes his fighting ability. The lack of DPSU accountability for quality, timely delivery and cost control weakens India’s national security. When a plane made by Hindustan Aeronautics Limited (HAL) fails midair and the pilot dies, the country does not hold HAL accountable. This means that DPSUs have no incentive to maintain quality standards. Even items produced under a license are subject to unconscionable delays and extreme cost escalations. For example, the Germans can produce a submarine completing all trials within two years. In contrast, India’s DPSUs take over 10 years to assemble semi-knocked-down kits. DPSUs took an eternity to manufacture Arjun, India’s main battle tank, even though most of its critical components are simply imports.

      Whose Fault?

      Undoubtedly, it is not just DPSUs who are at fault. There are deeper reasons for India’s failure to achieve even a reasonable degree of self-reliance in the vital area of defense production and its defense research and development capabilities.

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      First, India has a narrow technological and scientific base. Since the mid-1990s India has invested less than 1% of its GDP for research and development activities. On the other hand, China has steadily boosted its research and development expenditure and has crossed 2% of its GDP.

      It is important to note that China’s GDP has grown faster than India’s and is now four times the size of its southern neighbor. Thanks to its increased expenditure, China now manufactures products that sell across the world.

      In contrast, Indian industry still struggles to sell globally and is starved of skilled manpower. India’s best technical talent still migrates to greener pastures. Except for a handful of enterprises, none of the vaunted information technology firms in India have created a top brand or a reputed product line. The situation is worse in the manufacturing sector.

      Second, India suffers from a lack of skilled manpower for even the most basic of industrial activities. An outmoded education system churns out millions of white-collar job seekers. Technical jobs like machining, plumbing, electrical works, mechanical works and quality assurance are treated as inferior pursuits. Even engineers from premier institutes seldom aspire for a hands-on career profile. They prefer to go into management or government service.

      India is desperately short of a workforce with advanced manufacturing floor skills. The few skilled technicians are a prized lot. Both the private and the public sectors compete for them. Enlightened thought leaders in the information technology sector like Narayana Murthy have often bemoaned the fact that India’s education system is failing to produce employable candidates, forcing private enterprises to establish in-house training institutions.

      To increase the scale and improve the quality of industrial production, India needs to raise an army of trained workers. This would involve nothing short of a cultural revolution in both industry and education.

      Some Solutions to Defense Production Problems

      In truth, the real answer to the problem is privatization. Taxpayer money must not be wasted on inefficient ordnance factories or DPSUs. If the armed forces could choose suppliers from a competitive marketplace, there would be huge savings for the taxpayer. Furthermore, the forces would be able to get high-quality products that meet the highest standards. Those who object to privatization should remember that India buys all its high-end defense equipment from private players, well-known OEMs such as Rafale jets from Dassault Aviation and M777 howitzers from BAE Systems.

      Not all ordnance factories can be turned into DPSUs and not all DPSUs can be privatized. Those units that cannot be turned around must be closed down. In addition, not all DPSUs need to be privatized. Some would be in core strategic sectors and they need professional management and operational autonomy. A part of their shareholding could be sold in the market to bring financial discipline and competitiveness to these DPSUs.

      Like any high-performing company in the world, the government should empower the board of directors of DPSUs and give them operational autonomy. Any DPSU board should be able to select its top management and hold its feet to the fire. The DPSUs must select top management from the open market by offering competitive pay, allowances and incentives. Similarly, they must recruit other employees on the basis of merit, and merit alone. The board must set high-performance standards for employees and foster a culture of excellence. The board and management must exercise financial discipline to generate returns on capital.

      The DPSUs must also do their own research and development. This does not mean that they stop working with the DRDO. It just means that they are responsible for all aspects of their performance. They can and indeed must collaborate with other institutions, especially the DRDO, but the buck for all aspects of their performance stops with them. Also, the DPSUs must have the power to raise capital in the form of both equity and debt from capital markets. The value of their shares and the rating of their debt will reflect the true worth of their enterprise, make the DPSU management accountable and compel them to perform optimally.

      In theory, the DRDO is expected to develop world-class defense technologies India needs to lessen reliance on imports. In reality, the DRDO is yet to establish itself as a reliable source for high-technology and battle-ready products that can more than match that of the adversaries. Of course, there are notable exceptions, particularly when it comes to rockets and guided missiles. The DRDO needs to replicate these successes in other fields.

      Like DPSUs, the DRDO also needs operational autonomy. Those who run the DRDO must be able to hire and fire, set pay and standards, and run the organization optimally to produce technologies that Indian armed forces need. At the same time, the DRDO must be accountable for its performance. Its key job is to produce indigenous technology and reduce dependence on imports. Furthermore, the DRDO has to achieve this under tight timelines, given rising threats to India’s national security.

      The DGQA has become totally outdated. This colonial institution must be disbanded. The consumer of the product must have the right to decide if a product is good enough, while the producer must be held fully responsible for both the quality and the delivery of its supplies. The producer must also suffer penalties for its failures. In practical terms, the armed forces who use defense products must have a choice to select products and producers. They should also be able to go to court and claim damages or ask for penalties if producers supply products that fall short of their quality standards.

      Finally, the defense sector needs some of the same reforms that one of the authors suggested to the prime minister in a memo on May 5. In their words, India “must no longer have the power to throttle supply-side activity.” Indian entrepreneurs do well around the world. It is time to unleash Indian entrepreneurial energy in the defense sector too. This will improve quality, cut costs and make India more secure in the years and decades ahead.

      For too long, India has failed to promote a culture of excellence while allowing mediocrity to flourish. It has derided merit and achievement while tolerating inefficiency and dishonesty. This has caused serious damage to the nation’s economic progress and the welfare of its people. This culture has imperiled national security. Hence, India must focus on developing a culture of excellence in all fields. Given the multiplicity of threats, defense production must be the sector that becomes an exemplar of excellence for this new culture of excellence.

      The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More