Why don’t they ever retire?…

Harish Khare

A few days ago, an extremely unusual thing happened. A prime minister just walked away from his job. This happened early this week in New Zealand where the incumbent, John Key, simply told his countrymen that after eight years of giving “everything I could to this job that I cherish, and this country that I love”, he was stepping aside — because he wanted to spend more time with his family. 

John Key’s premiership was not under any kind of challenge. He left entirely of his own volition for a set of reasons which most Indian politicians would have difficulty applauding. Unlike John Key who longed to be closer to his family, we have politicians who make a virtue of their unmarried status and insist that the entire country is their “family”. 

Here in India, no politician thinks of retirement. Once a “leader” always a “leader”. Because in India we have — both the leader and the led — subscribed to this conceit that a public role means “service” and “sacrifice” and that there can be no expiry date on such virtues. A leader is there to serve “till my last breath.” 

 When someone like Ms Mayawati or Akhilesh Yadav becomes chief minister at a comparatively young age, we all count our blessings that the realm has been blessed with a “young leader”. It takes a long time to realise that it ends up as a life-long infliction. 

Perhaps, our problem is that the notion of leadership has come down to control of a political outfit. And since that control is exercised — and asserted — in the name of a “community” or “caste”, the leadership claim remains unaffected even if the voters at large reject the party or its leader.

Nor have we in India yet evolved any kind of protocol on how to treat “defeated” or “retired” politicians. We just do not know how to leave them alone. Our vindictive politics ensures that a defeated political leader is perforce constrained to stay in the political arena and defend himself. For instance, I am pretty sure that should Mr Sukhbir Badal find himself jobless after the Assembly elections, he would not be left alone to take care of his very vast business empire. His rivals have already promised to put him behind bars. 

Nor are many politicians competent enough to undertake any useful work. Except for a handful of lawyers who can again put on their black robes and earn much more, not many politicians — “leaders” — are deemed fit for any kind of non-political role. I am not sure if any big private organisation would think of employing a “retired” politician for any useful capacity, except as a lobbyist. 

And, now we have a new element: “security”. Once in power — even those with the most dubious record — are deemed (by a supposedly professional security establishment, which is presumed to protect us from those bad “terrorists”) to be under some kind of security threat. No one wants to leave the public arena, lest his or her “security cover” gets withdrawn.

So, we remain stuck with the same set of “leaders” for decades and decades.

This is a week to talk about Jayalalithaa. Amma was the most intelligent political leader I have ever met. Not “intelligent” in the sense of being “intellectual” but as in being politically sharp, shrewd and sensible. Self-assured and self-contained. Anchored internally. 

The only extended interaction I had with her was during the hectic days of the confidence vote Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee had to face in April, 1999. First, a bit of background. During the 1998 Lok Sabha elections, the BJP had hammered out an alliance with Jaya’s AIADMK and other smaller Dravadian parties. The NDA managed to win 30 Lok Sabha seats in Tamil Nadu, a booty that allowed Vajpayee to become Prime Minister. Advani had boasted of a “southern strategy.” But within nine months, the arrangement came unstuck. Jaya had allowed herself to be induced by Subramanian Swamy to join forces with Sonia Gandhi’s Congress to cast doubts about the Vajpayee government’s majority in the Lok Sabha. President KR Narayanan had no choice but to ask the Prime Minister to prove his numbers in the Lok Sabha.

And then, began a week of unprecedented political conspiracy, manipulation, and intrigue. Excitement was in the air, the situation was changing every hour; so much was at stake and so many powerful interests were at work. It was the week for which every political reporter lives all his life. Ms Jayalalithaa had come to Delhi and parked herself at a five-star hotel. One entire floor was available for her and her security detail.

She had invited me to the hotel for a chat. I had a bit of home advantage over the other reporters: I was working for The Hindu.

When I reached her room, she invited me in and immediately hushed me to silence, saying that Murasoli Maran was about to begin speaking. The Vajpayee government’s managers had managed to coerce the DMK into breaking ranks from the United Front and lend support to the government. The DMK numbers, though, were not sufficient to make up for the loss of the AIADMK numbers.

On way to the hotel, I had learnt from a very informed source that the BSP’s four votes were in danger of being snared by the NDA managers. When I shared this information with Ms Jayalalithaa, she was rather surprised, and she insisted that I reveal my source. I refused. But she was sufficiently alarmed and — I was to learn later — wanted to take some corrective measures. Those four BSP votes were extremely critical. During that interaction, the AIADMK leader repeatedly asked me as to why Ms Sonia Gandhi was not “moving” to drum up numbers. I have a feeling that it was during that period that the Tamil Nadu leader got a measure of Ms Gandhi. She never again put her bets on the Congress or Ms Gandhi.

“Thank You for Being Late” is the arresting title of Thomas L Friedman’s latest book. Friedman has been an influential voice for more than two decades and he has readers and followers across the world. In this book, he has tried to help the reader make sense of a world changing at a rapid pace. In the sub-title, he calls it “an optimist’s guide to thriving in the age of accelerations.” His argument is that our planet is in the grip of three forces — technology, globalization, and climate change — accelerating at the same time, creating “kaos”. And, his bottomline is that there are no individual salvations, only collective solutions.

The case for “being late” is actually a brief meditation on the beneficial calmness that Friedman felt from “unplanned for, unscheduled time” when one of his interlocutors got late for an appointment with him. Simply, the man understood that he needed to slow down and there was no shame in not being self-importantly preoccupied. This book ought to be a recommended reading for every senior member of the ruling clique in New Delhi — for the simple reason that it is still not too late for them to understand that there is a world out there which is not easily amenable to our whims or fancies or idiosyncrasies. The village idiot’s world may have its comfort zone but that is about it. 

This book should also be read by every aspiring journalist who wants to be a ‘columnist’ or a ‘blogger.’ In an engaging preface, Friedman tells the story of an unconventional relationship he struck with an attendant at a parking lot in Washington, DC. The attendant, an educated immigrant from Ethiopia, is a blogger and he challengingly tells Friedman that he too was in the same businessman as the world famous columnist. That gets Friedman’s attention.

What follows in the next few pages is an extraordinary self-analysis by the columnist and an introduction to his own craft. It is not just a case of spouting prejudices or abuses; it is a question of making connections and insights behind an opinion.

Essentially, it means making the reader help make sense of a baffling environment. “This act of chemistry usually involves mixing three basic ingredients: your own values, priorities, and aspirations; how you think the biggest forces, the world’s biggest gears and pulleys, are shaping events; and what you’ve learned about people and culture — how they react or don’t — when the big forces impact them,” argues Friedman. Or, as he simply puts, translating “English to English.”

That does not mean being late for coffee. Join me. 

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