The people’s eye

There are periods when the Southasian political milieu gives us hope. One such was the huge popular upsurge and Maoist win for democracy in Nepal. What emerged as a success was an acceptance of democracy as a mode for popular participation – and subsequently bolstered our faith in it. The participation of the poor reinforced our belief that we are indeed capable of guaranteeing our own political future. The importance of any movement in our region is gauged by the impact that it has on similar processes in the neighbouring countries. The success of this movement is the hope it has outlined for Southasians battling for a more egalitarian system. The Indian people's movements – forever fighting battles against inequality, marginalisation, oppression and suppression within a larger democratic system – have also drawn strength from this process in Nepal.

However, the battles in a national democratic system are different from fighting a colonial master or a feudal system. The stated commitment to equality and social justice can often remain mere symbols to be invoked in documents and election campaigns. The fight for real equality, participation and inclusion within an overarching structure requires a completely different set of tools, as we in India have come to understand. The British left behind systems of governance that remained untouched by the change in political leadership; and in our naiveté we believed, in the initial years, that it would be different with our own people.

The Indian Constitution defines sovereignty as being vested with the people of this country. Article 19 (1a) guarantees the people the right to freedom of expression. But in practice, one has had to resort to Supreme Court judgements to access simple information. With the fervour of nationalism left far behind, corruption and the arbitrary use of power in governance grew. Along with it, a steady resolve likewise grew amongst the bureaucrats and politicians to protect their 'right' to be opaque. The Official Secrets Act was a British legacy that independent India should have quickly done away with, but has not.

What has slowly dawned on the Indian political activist is the recognition that even a national(ist) bureaucracy needs continuous vigilance and monitoring. There was no direct accountability of those who governed in the name of the people to their sovereign – the people. The denial of access to simple records and papers reached a pitch when people were denied access to simple printed documents – for instance, lists of individuals below the poverty line – by invoking the Official Secrets Act. Corruption reached new heights, as no poor person was allowed the right to see his or her entry on the ration register, or his or her name on the muster roll or labour list. As such, anti-poverty programmes mainly benefited the rich and corrupt elite. The poor subsequently felt that they had to gain access to these records in order enjoy their rights. Slowly, this 'right to know' became linked with food, work, medicine, teaching and a host of other rights that had been denied to them.

Our accounts
Many attempts had been made to address this anomaly, through demands for the Right to Information (RTI). The government under V P Singh went so far as to draw up a draft. But even the weak document produced by New Delhi could not be passed before the government fell. Meanwhile, many groups, including journalists, joined the demand for the right to know.

What finally catapulted this demand towards success was a people's battle, beginning in 1994, to look into the records at the Panchayat level, particularly with regard to non-payment of the statutory minimum wage. The demand for accountability began with the democratic slogan, Our money, our accounts. The demand for disclosure of information was fought tooth and nail by the government establishment, however, with every demand being countered with a denial. This anti-democratic position of the establishment effectively exposed the hypocrisy with which the constitutional principles were being implemented.

The reason behind the government's reluctance to open its records to public disclosure lay, after all, in its misdeeds. However, the dialectic between struggle and advocacy put increasing pressure on the political establishment to deliver if it wanted votes, and ultimately led to another very interesting democratic debate in the public domain. The Right to Information Act of 2005 was the culmination of a series of poor people's demands finally being recognised by the political establishment. But it also helped to establish a process through which people could use non-violent civic protest to demand legislation, to shape it with wide and inclusive participation, and to monitor it through Parliament.

Like the recent people's victory in Nepal, this struggle has left us with hope. Just as a new political disposition can infuse new life into a country's populace, so too has the RTI campaign attempted to make it possible for citizens to fashion the tools to examine the use and misuse of power in a democracy. It has also taught us that democracy has to be nurtured. The thousands of questions that Indians have asked of the authorities since the passage of the Right to Information Act of 2005 have led to the disclosure of a mass of information that is vital for the political health of a democratic country. India's experience on this matter is now available for the rest of the region, as well – in the hope that the collective demand to know will ease the bogey and jingoism of war, and ultimately build a more compassionate and friendly Southasia.

~ Aruna Roy is with the Mazdoor Kisan Shakti Sangathan in Rajasthan, and is a pioneer of the Right to Information campaign in India.