Where does one learn to participate meaningfully in a democracy? When is one ready?

These questions have acquired salience in recent days after our cricketing hero, Sourav Ganguly, made news for the wrong reasons by suggesting that his daughter, an eligible voter, was too young to know anything about politics after she posted a quote from author, Khushwant Singh that was critical of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) – the BJP’s inspiration and ideological parent.

These questions have lingered for a while now. In recent years, notably after the spate of protests by the restive Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU) students and a more general state of agitation on many campuses, we frequently heard that enrolling in college is for studies, to acquire an education. Students were chided for their protests and told not to dabble in politics or interfere in the institution’s administrative matters.

Apparently, in our country, you are old enough to participate in the voting ritual of our representative democracy once you turn 18, but are too young to have views on or be active in politics. In other words, the youth are asked to be the faceless vote bank that a political party can rely on, and not the thinking voter with whom one must engage.

This seemed to be at odds with the stories about professional politicians who cut their teeth in the politics of campus unionism with active aid and support from opposing political parties. Also, it betrays a very limited and particular idea of education based on knowledge dispensed from books requiring regurgitation during exams rather than lessons for life derived from active participation in diverse experiences.

No learning ground for democracy: A personal narrative

It is said that the home is the primary learning ground where lasting life lessons are learnt. It is perhaps safe to say that in most (Indian) homes, obedience to parental authority is valued, and dissent and deviance are frowned upon. Questions are initially indulged with fondness, then subtly put down and finally judged as impertinent or insolent. Curiosity is substituted by the dominant world view and individuation rarely facilitated. This is hardly a context in which one can expect schooling in notions of democracy. 

I remember hushed tones and furtive looks of people on public transport buses as we made our way to school and back during the Emergency (1975-77). We were generally encouraged to think that the Emergency was a good thing since trains were more punctual, people worked more diligently and there were no disruptions because of industrial strikes.

My preliminary introduction to democracy and our constitution was through Civics classes in school from when I was about 12. Phrases like ‘bicameral legislature’, ‘Directive Principles’, ‘fundamental rights’ and ‘representative democracy’ entered my dictionary. I passed exams but had little experience of all that I studied. I read The Hindu every day at my father’s urging. I became more aware of politics and governance – the stuff of adults – voting, electing governments, framing laws, passing budgets, etc. I was untouched by it all.

In college, I frowned upon union matters and elections, seeing it as raucous, dangerous and a distraction. I remained self-focused, pursuing studies and sport. College education gave me a language with which to comment, but not the inclination or courage to enter the fray.

I was informed by my college during final semester exams that I was a member of the Academic Council. I was handed a fat bundle of papers regarding proposals for revisions to the curriculum and was given notice of a meeting to consider these changes. If my recollection is correct, the meeting was on the day that our exams ended. I attended the meeting with no background, little clarity and much curiosity.

My being at the meeting must have met some college criteria for student participation. I had unwittingly allowed myself to be co-opted into a process for approval of proposals. It was a disappointing experience, a tightly controlled meeting with little substantive discussion. I came out discouraged and dissatisfied. Once out of college, I cynically enriched my résumé with added credentials as a member of the institution’s Academic Council.

Professional work institutions including corporations have been anything but democratic, going just as far as to encourage consensus building in some instances and be content with manufactured consent in most. In being shareholder-focused and driven by profit-making, select voices were heeded, and strategizing, direction-setting and resource allocation were by a privileged few. 

These limited experiences didn’t add much to understanding how to engage with people and in institutions democratically.

Living democracy: Beyond casting a ballot

I believe now that participatory democracy requires that I lend my voice on issues that matter. It means staying engaged on the questions of ends and means – what is relevant and worthwhile, what merits commitment of resources, what ensures dignity… So it is not just about voice but also of vision.

To do so, requires learning and practice. We hesitate to lend our voice, we fear to articulate our vision and be its ardent advocate. We fight shy of engaging with the politics of power and the asymmetry in information access essential for informed participation.

At an individual level, what does one need to learn?

The first thing that comes to mind is critical thinking and a willingness to question, to challenge, to actively seek to understand alternate perspectives as a way to be better informed and build convictions.

When does one move from having blind trust in what one is told or taught about the world to being able to trust our own experience and speaking from the truth of this? How will this awakening be fostered, firstly in the home?

Secondly, we need to give voice to our experience, expectations and concerns, volunteer and stay engaged on issues. It must not distance ourselves from the consequences of the stances we take or decisions we support and we must not sulk or withdraw when we can’t have our way every time. It will not suffice to be an indifferent spectator, an invisible, silent beneficiary or a judge. Operating from privilege and entitlement are antithetical to the practice of democracy.

Thirdly, democracy is an arena for competing ideas and visions that relies on robust dialogue to move matters from churn to choice. Dialogue requires the practice of listening but most people only wish to be heard, and invest their time and energy more in honing their skills in articulating.

Democracy is equally an invitation to cooperate in the larger collective interest, particularly when one’s own ideas and preferences need to be subordinated, let go, or modified. In accommodating, one can be gracious rather than griping or grudging. Such accommodation which is a culmination of earnest negotiation rather than giving up in a huff or in a sulk is key.

So how and when does one learn to negotiate in collective spaces? This requires courage and self-belief, conviction and commitment towards causes larger than oneself.

Fourthly, one needs to understand the notion of stakes. Not notional stakes. At every stage, can one become clearer of what is at stake? Whose stakes? What of oneself is one willing to stake to be a legitimate participant in a democracy?

Fifthly, we must be disciplined about following due process as agreed and ensuring that the institutional framework / infrastructure that enables voices and noises to be articulated, heard, sifted and settled are respected, renewed, and strengthened rather than being rendered ritualistic and meaningless. The latter calls upon you and me to be vigilant against self-seeking and sneaky saboteurs.

It is apparent that democracy is hard work, where the pragmatic and the ideal are held together in perpetual tension – a tension that that can be creative or stressful depending on how skilful we are as practitioners, and how capable we are of holding the two in simultaneity. 

Staying relevant in a representative democracy

In a representative democracy such as ours, which lacks strong local institutions and the competent practice of democratic governance, being an active participant poses a challenge.

For far too long, casting one’s ballot has become a celebrated act of participation. Flaunting indelible ink on a finger has become the symbol of our democratic credentials. Sadly there is little we do enhance these credentials.

Parliament and legislatures acquire a life, a manner and a rhythm of their own. The ‘ruling party’ claims a mandate derived from the ‘will of the people’ even when those people are hard-pressed often to see how their needs, preferences, and aspirations are reflected in the policy choices and decisions. This chasm, of course, widens with the inevitable alienation of the vote-casting participant in this form of democracy which is aggravated by the chosen representatives becoming inaccessible, not listening, and being responsive to their constituency’s concerns. ‘The people’ have no control over the government’s definition of goals, deployment of resources, and feel powerless to ensure accountability. ‘The people’ are enfranchised and disempowered at the same time.

Our form of representative democracy which is based on ‘first past the post’ feeds the fallacy that an electoral majority is actually a mandate from all of the people. In such a context, a sweeping majority may not mean much in terms of an endorsement of the winner’s agenda even as the government formed on this basis feels legitimate and even emboldened.

Where there is neither forum nor process for consultation and dialogue on important legislation, decisions and rules, the street acquires legitimacy as the space for collective expression. Acts of collective protest and solidarity are democratic. This space for expression when denied will create an upsurge of emotions and a spontaneous combustion is created that is hard to contain. Where space is allowed but there is little credible engagement by the powers that be, the consequences are likely to be similar or may take the form of a malaise marked by cynicism, a drop in vibrancy of the populace and degradation of democracy itself. It is tempting to flirt with violence when we are frustrated but we know from history that violence serves a few people but never solves a problem it seeks to settle.

So where do we learn our lessons? How shall we collectively practice so we can be better participants in our democracy? What are we willing to change in our homes? What do we add to our curriculum in school and colleges? Are we willing to examine our notions of power, authority and purpose in organizations? How do we ensure that our practice is built on respect and dignity for all rather than the notion of winning and losing and rulers and the ruled?

Image from PNGriver