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The Parliament Papers #2 : No dark clouds of the Monsoon yet, but a thunderstorm brews…

Concrete solutions for the overhauling of the Education System have been suggested, its time for some action.

PM Narendra Modi in his customary opening statement on the first day of the Monsoon Session, said, Whether it is the monsoon or the Monsoon Session, when both are proactive, they become highly productive and contribute to the welfare of the nation.” Drone shots and non-mainstream media videos of the Jantar Mantar Protest march, where our youth were brutally assaulted with lathis and tear gas, show that dark clouds are indeed gathering for the regime. Thousands of young protestors, mostly organic in nature, joined in to demand the resignation of Union Minister Dharmendra Pradhan and a complete overhaul of the education system. Both in love and hate, there is no logic. In a Democracy, people are supposed to be rational actors, but more often than not, they are just not. This outpouring against the government may be the first tangible sign that there is no more fear and Democracy is alive. But there is a deeper political connotation attached to it.

A poison of division and hate has been injected into the minds of ordinary people. They have tended to align with the worst of the institutional plunder, simply for their own survival. And those in power have taken complete advantage of this poison. Now an antidote to this poison is finally emerging. A thunderstorm with lakhs of footsteps marching towards the new Parliament is brewing. Democracy is awake. Thriving and marching on the streets.

In the Parliament, the Leader of Opposition in the Rajya Sabha, Mallikarjun Kharge, emphatically raised the issue of the lathicharge and barbarity of the government against our own children. While many gates of the Parliament were hurriedly closed and the internet in the area was shut down, ordinary youth from different walks of life walked on. Sonam Wangchuk was in the hospital, continued fasting. But Abhijit Dipke was missing in action. Saurav Das and Ashutosh Ranka were doing inconclusive photops with Health Minister J P Nadda, and one more spokie, Vijeta Dahiya, was having a burger at a metro station, only to be caught and questioned by an angry protester. The CJP leadership virtually did not participate in the protest march they called. The youth was left to fend off the police batons and fight for their lives. It is only late at night that Dipke reappeared, only to announce that there would be no more march to Parliament on 21st July. I doubt that will happen.

The unchoreographed flux of the young and restless is now the hope of this movement. Nobody is denying that the initial protest was purely orchestrated by the RSS-AAP ecosystem, with the Left playing a supportive cast. CJP is and shall remain an RSS project to rebrand AAP in order to discredit the Opposition. This was again reinforced by their cowardly absence in the protest march. But sections of the protest have definitely gone beyond labels. The young have genuine anger. They are becoming fearless. They are demanding comprehensive structural reforms in the education system. A complete overhaul, as I mentioned in my previous post.

Leader of the Opposition, Rahul Gandhi in his “Chhatron Ki Goonj” rally in Dehradun, has come out with a 3-point charter to take this forward. A glimpse of what the Opposition, particularly the Congress party, actually envisages.

First, India needs a 21st-century testing system. Student-centric, with flexible dates. Digitally secured question bank and randomised questions for exam papers.



High-stakes examinations should move to secure digital platforms with large encrypted question banks, AI-enabled randomisation, and flexible testing windows, reducing the value of leaked papers almost to zero. Countries such as Denmark, Estonia and Australia have already adopted computer-based assessments, while OECD research highlights that adaptive digital testing can improve measurement, reduce testing time and enhance security. The objective must be simple: every student faces a different but equivalent paper, making organised paper leak syndicates obsolete rather than merely illegal.

Second, an independent and accountable education system, free of any political influence, merit-driven. More public spending on education, at least 6 per cent of the GDP and strict convictions for the paper leak mafia.



India needs an autonomous National Examination and Assessment Authority, accountable to Parliament but free from political interference in appointments, administration and evaluation. The National Education Policy itself reiterates the long-standing commitment to raise public expenditure on education to 6 per cent of GDP; instead, we have reduced spending to below 3 per cent now. Alongside greater investment, paper leak offences must be met with swift investigation, time-bound trials, and exemplary punishment. Unless integrity is institutionalised, public trust in merit will continue to erode.

Third, protection for students. Immediate re-exam in case of irregularities and compensation for students.

No student should become collateral damage because the system failed. Whenever an examination is compromised, the law must guarantee immediate re-examination within a fixed timeframe, reimbursement of travel and accommodation costs, and compensation for demonstrable financial or academic loss. International examination boards have established protocols to protect candidates whenever irregularities arise, ensuring that students are not punished for institutional failures. India must adopt the same principle. The burden of paper leaks should fall on those responsible, not on millions of honest students whose futures are placed in uncertainty through no fault of their own.

There are solutions to the problems, but is the Parliament listening?

The Parliament Papers #3 : Will there be a Pareeksha Pe Charcha now?

Rahul Gandhi has taken the fight for students now to the PM’s door, it is time for the Parliament to discuss Education Reforms, but this government won’t comply.

It is 11:08 p.m. on 21st July as I write down my thoughts on what may happen in Parliament tomorrow.

It has been an eventful day. The Leader of Opposition in the Rajya Sabha, Mallikarjun Kharge, once again batted for the students and laid down a five point charter of demands before the government. The Leader of Opposition in the Lok Sabha, Rahul Gandhi, met the Lok Sabha Speaker along with several Opposition MPs and demanded a discussion with the government.

But when the government did not relent on holding a discussion on why the protesters were beaten, on the state of the education system, and on why more than 150 paper leaks have taken place over the last ten years or so, the Congress Party, the principal Opposition party, resorted to a flash protest. Without informing many of its own MPs, and completely duping the mainstream media of the story, Congress leaders marched to the vicinity of the Prime Minister’s residence at 7 Lok Kalyan Marg and sat on a dharna. Later, prominent leaders of other Opposition parties, including Akhilesh Yadav and Supriya Sule, joined the protest.

Now this is becoming serious.

Serious because the youth have done their duty. Every second Instagram video that you watch; I know, the algorithm plays a role – but it tells the story of someone who attended Monday’s protest and was beaten up. Fifteen year old girls. Seventeen year old students. Someone who has just appeared for the NEET examination. Someone preparing for a police recruitment examination. They are all getting beaten up.

I also saw a very interesting tweet from the government side. Someone wrote that if Instagram were banned for two days, this protest would collapse. This shows cowardice and frustration.

I have been watching politics for almost thirty years now. My political consciousness began to develop in the 1990s, and it truly germinated in 2004, when political change took place. I have seen how governments change. I know what it looks like when a government begins to lose its grip. I know the signs when the fall starts drawing near.

Yes, there is still time left in the life of this Lok Sabha. There are still almost two and a half years to go. Half the term is over. But half a term is also a very, very long time in Indian politics.

In this context, it would be premature to conclude that this regime will not return to power in 2029. It continues to enjoy significant popular support. But that support has undoubtedly weakened after Monday’s protest, especially among the youth and Gen Z.

Images are powerful. The images of Rahul Gandhi being dragged, manhandled, and emerging with a bloodied nose will haunt this government and the BJP for years to come. Because he is not just Rahul Gandhi. He is the Leader of Opposition in the Lok Sabha.

But what have we achieved through this? What has the government achieved?

The government could simply have agreed, from day one, to a discussion on paper leaks and the urgent need to overhaul India’s education system.

Let us assume that today it finally agrees. Let us assume the government takes two steps back after what happened yesterday, after the protest near the Prime Minister’s residence. Let us assume there is a statement from the Education Minister. In fact, the minister has already indicated that he is open to a discussion.

But I do not think that is the solution.

The Opposition should not relent. It should not settle for the minister merely making a statement. Moral and political responsibility demands that Dharmendra Pradhan resign. If anyone is to make a statement, it should be no less than the Prime Minister or the Home Minister.

But more important than a statement is a solution.

Even though today’s piece is more of a journal entry and less analytical than the previous two essays, I want to once again focus on solutions—a comprehensive roadmap to transform India’s education system.

The first reform is one that I have already discussed earlier: we need a complete overhaul of the way examinations are conducted.

In the first part of this series, I had written about the National Testing Agency (NTA) and the National Recruitment Agency (NRA). Both institutions are, for all practical purposes, dysfunctional. There is very little professionalism. These agencies increasingly depend on private contractors to conduct examinations, and that entire ecosystem is fundamentally flawed.

What we need instead is to strengthen these institutions with professionals. This government frequently speaks about lateral entry. Why not introduce lateral entry into these agencies? Why not recruit professionals with expertise in assessment, cybersecurity, data science, logistics and examination management? Why not build genuine institutional capacity instead of outsourcing critical public functions?

Technology must become the backbone of our examination system.

If the IITs and IIMs can conduct secure examinations, if CAT, CLAT and the Joint Entrance Examination (JEE) can be conducted without recurring paper leaks, then why not NEET?

The BJP’s defence has often been that paper leaks existed earlier as well, except that earlier papers were sold for thousands whereas today they are sold for lakhs.

That is hardly a defence.

You have been in government for twelve years. You had every opportunity to change the system. Instead, you merely replaced one broken system with another. I do not recall medical entrance examinations witnessing this scale of organised paper leak before 2014.

What has emerged today is an entire chain of intermediaries—a paper leak mafia—which thrives because agencies such as the NTA increasingly depend upon private contractors. The criteria for awarding these contracts remain opaque, the standards appear weak, and allegations of corruption continue to surface.

Why are we not cracking down on this ecosystem?

Why don’t we establish an independent, autonomous national examination authority to conduct all major recruitment and entrance examinations?

The UPSC provides a useful model. It enjoys a significant degree of institutional autonomy and has developed credibility over decades. We need a similar institution, professionally staffed, technologically equipped, supported through lateral entry wherever required, and backed by strong state capacity.

Why are we not using technology to randomise question papers for every candidate?

The Prime Minister speaks repeatedly about Digital India. Yet examination papers are still physically transported across the country, sometimes even with the assistance of the Indian Air Force.

It is difficult to justify such a system in the twenty first century.

Very few countries continue to rely upon such methods. India should seriously study international best practices from countries such as Estonia, Singapore, the United Kingdom and France, where technology, encryption, question randomisation and institutional safeguards together minimise the possibility of large scale paper leaks.

Above all, there has to be accountability.

The second reform that is urgently needed is substantially higher public investment in education.

Unfortunately, this demand has become almost clichéd. Every political party writes it into its manifesto. Members of Parliament routinely speak about it. Yet very little changes on the ground.

Public expenditure on education has fallen from roughly 3.5 per cent of GDP to around 2.5 per cent over the past decade. India must move decisively towards the long-standing national commitment of spending at least 6 per cent of GDP on education.

That will require building state capacity, not shrinking it.

Nearly 94,000 schools have reportedly been closed across the country.

Why?

Who is accountable for that decision?

More than one lakh government schools continue to function with only a single teacher.

Why has this happened?

When the UPA demitted office, India had over twenty lakh government schools. Today that number has reduced substantially. Why are state governments increasingly closing schools? Why has public investment not kept pace with the growing needs of students?

Corporate CSR funds are often used to repaint classrooms, repair school buildings or improve basic infrastructure. Those initiatives are welcome, but they are no substitute for qualified teachers, stronger institutions and better learning outcomes.

The quality of education cannot improve through cosmetic changes alone.

All of this requires serious national debate and substantive policy deliberation.

Today, I have only touched upon two broad areas. The first concerns examination reforms and higher education governance. The second concerns public investment and the crisis in primary education.

These are merely starting points. But if India is serious about rebuilding trust in its education system, this is precisely where the debate must begin.

The Parliament Papers #4: A Revolution is taking shape. But Why?

Nationwide organisation of youth can be a catalyst for meaninful change

They say India is a land of contradictions. When they love a leader, they worship him like a God. When they hate the leader, they despise him with the same intensity. As a millennial, the India Against Corruption (IAC) Movement and Nirbhaya are the two watershed protests that I observed from very close quarters. I used to go to Jantar Mantar and India Gate for both the movements. Never protested because my ideas, ideals and ideology were different from those who led the IAC movement—but attended most of it, keenly observing how the protestors react, how the police behave with them and how these protests are ‘managed’. Nirbhaya was, by and large, a genuine and spontaneous outburst of emotions. Still, IAC was, and later proved, completely orchestrated by the RSS, with a devious motive to plant a fresh set of anarchic, non-ideological and opportunistic actors in the Indian polity such as Arvind Kejriwal, Kiran Bedi, Shazia Ilmi, Yogendra Yadav, Prashant Bhushan, Kumar Vishwas and the likes.

The present Cockroach Janata Party (CJP) movement started as a meme, but presented an opportunity to the RSS-puppeted AAP to rebrand itself after the massive debacle it suffered in Delhi and after 7 out of its 10 MPs left its parent organisation. Ask anybody on the streets today, and they will have nothing but disdain against Anna Hazare and Kejriwal, the two protagonists of the IAC movement. None of the scams they alleged were proven. No politician is behind bars. Not even a senior government official is behind bars, and even though the Congress-UPA government sat across the table with them to discuss their “Jan Lokpal” Bill, and passed it in 2013, the Act has been lying in the dustbin of history for 12 years, and nobody cares. Kejriwal ruled Delhi for almost 12 years, but did not pass their version of the Jan Lokpal Bill.



This flashback was necessary to contrast what is happening today. The CJP movement also has two protagonists – Sonam Wangchuk and Abhijit Dipke. Wangchuk is in his 26th day of hunger strike, now in a private hospital. He has strategically climbed down on his demand for Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan’s resignation. Instead of resignation, his latest letter says “consideration of the resignation of the Honourable Education Minister”. But here is a surprise. This protest has gone beyond the CJP or AAP. The government thought that on 20th July, some protestors would gather and they would be able to either use it as a safety valve to release some steam (which I mentioned in my edition #1) or they may be able to nip the protestors in the bud and maintain their hegemony. Neither of these happened.

From Mumbai to Mizoram, from Surat to Patna, organic protests led by Gen Z have erupted. More and more videos of innovative protests, processions, arrests, lathicharge, and water canon use have emerged across India. As a millennial, I owe an apology to Gen Z, because I underestimated their game. From quirky placards to artwork, from cuss words to skits, from shedding blood on the streets to openly distancing themselves from their BJP-supporting parents — they are doing everything possible. Some are making sure protest sites are not littered. Some are taking care of strays. Some are seen holding hands with older people to march along in unison. Even if it is for likes and followers on Instagram, they are resisting and resonating. Resistance matters against tyrannical regimes, and July 20th could well be a turning point for an organic revolution. The RSS-BJP ecosystem is using the same tactics as they used during the Kisan Andolan (Farmers’ agitation), where seemingly neutral celebrities were used to post balanced pro-government stuff. In the words of Modi Ji, we now await a full-blown 3P campaign from the BJP ecosystem – propaganda, paid PR and punitive actions. However, no one is talking about the other P.

P for Parliament. I had presented some solutions to reform our education system in the previous editions. Let us first revisit some more facts about the education system, especially in the context of employment numbers.

According to the latest Periodic Labour Force Survey, youth unemployment is at a staggering 29%. The figure of 29% represents unemployment among young graduates. In simple terms, nearly three out of every ten young Indians with a college degree who are actively seeking employment remain without a job. That stark contrast with the overall unemployment rate reveals a deeper crisis. In today’s India, higher education is no longer a reliable pathway to employment. For many young people, earning a degree has ceased to be a safeguard against unemployment and has instead become a marker of unfulfilled aspirations.



According to the State of Working India 2026 report, India’s higher education system has been producing graduates far faster than the economy has been generating suitable employment. Between 2004 and 2023, around 5 million young people graduated annually, but employment opportunities emerged for only about 2.8 million of them—even more concerning, less than 2 million secured regular salaried positions. The result is a growing backlog of educated young people whose aspirations remain unrealised, with each passing year adding to an expanding pool of qualified but underemployed or unemployed talent.

The coaching economy has expanded into one of the largest segments of India’s education ecosystem. Valued at an estimated ₹54,000–58,000 crore, the sector is growing by 15–20% annually and now serves nearly 7.1 crore students. Its explosive growth is not accidental. It reflects an education system in which competitive examinations have become the principal gateway to opportunity, while mainstream schooling increasingly fails to prepare students to succeed in them.

This burden is increasingly being shifted onto families. As public investment struggles to keep pace with educational needs, households are spending ever larger sums on private education. Data from the Ministry of Statistics show that household expenditure on education rose from ₹1.8 lakh crore in FY12 to ₹8.43 lakh crore in FY24—an increase of nearly 4.6 times.

The National Sample Survey’s Comprehensive Modular Survey on Education (2025) reinforces this trend. It estimates average annual household spending on school education at ₹22,024 per student, with private coaching accounting for about 40.7% of the total. In effect, coaching has evolved from a supplementary service into an essential expense, significantly increasing the financial burden on families.

The inequality is even more pronounced in rural India. The same survey found that 44.7% of rural households’ education spending goes towards coaching, compared with 35.3% in urban areas. Those with the fewest resources are compelled to devote the greatest share of their income to private tutoring. For millions of poorer families, coaching has become an attempt to compensate for unequal schooling, limited access to quality education, and the advantages that wealthier students already enjoy. What is presented as an avenue for merit has, in practice, become an additional financial burden on those least able to bear it.

It is not a secret that youth are still looking for stable government jobs instead of the private sector, even though government ones have moved towards contractualisation. The handful of sarkari jobs which are available use highly competitive examinations as an entry point. In this scenario, if one paper leaks every month, what would the young do? Obviously, stare at a bleak future.

This explains the revolution.

The Parliament Papers #5 : Do Fast Track Courts work?

PM’s announcement of Fast Track Courts to deal with paper leak cases is an inadequate, response, smacks of tokenism.

In a midnight close-up video, where he replaced his classic “Mitronnnn” to “Friendzzzz” ( perhaps, to address the justifibly enraged Gen Z! ), PM Modi spoke about getting a Bill in the Parliament to establish Fast Track Courts (FTCs) in the Parliament in the next few days. The Bill may receive Cabinet clearance today. Sonam Wangchuk ended his fast, minutes after this announcement. He also asked protesting students to go around the country and submit a report to the PM (sic).

We already have a law against Paper Leak – The Public Examinations (Prevention Of Unfair Means) Act, 2024. So why do we need another one?

Also, Modi Govt’s CBI has already given a CLEAN CHIT to NEET-2024 Paper Leak mastermind, Sanjeev Mukhiya, saying there is no evidence for paper’s theft or distribution

Without meandering much, today, i shall only focus on whether the system of Fast Track Courts have actually worked in the country.

Fast Track Courts and the Illusion of Speed

India has been experimenting with Fast Track Courts for over two decades. The Government itself has acknowledged the central contradiction. In a reply before Parliament, the Ministry of Law and Justice admitted that no time frame has been prescribed for disposal of different categories of cases by courts. If a Fast Track Court has no legally enforceable timeline, in what sense is it fast? The very foundation of the model stands weakened.

Fast Track Courts were conceived as dedicated courts for categories of cases requiring urgent attention. The Eleventh Finance Commission recommended 1,734 such courts in 2000. The Fourteenth Finance Commission later recommended another 1,800 courts between 2015 and 2020 for heinous crimes and cases involving women, children, senior citizens and other vulnerable groups. Despite repeated announcements, India has never built the judicial capacity necessary to make these courts consistently fast.

As of 31 January 2026, 862 regular Fast Track Courts were functioning across only 21 States and Union Territories. The distribution was strikingly uneven. Uttar Pradesh had 373, Maharashtra had 105 and West Bengal had 88, while several States and Union Territories had only a handful or none at all. The Government has also stated that no central assistance is currently provided to States for establishing these regular Fast Track Courts.

More significantly, the Centre admitted that it had conducted no recent independent third party evaluation of their functioning and had no proposal to expand them through a centrally sponsored scheme.

862 Fast Track Courts exist across only 21 States and UTs. Nearly half are concentrated in just three States, while several States and Union Territories have fewer than five courts.

The position of Fast Track Special Courts is only marginally more reassuring. These courts were launched in October 2019 for rape and POCSO cases. As of January 2026, 774 were functional, including 398 exclusive POCSO courts, against the scheme’s target of 790. The programme has already been extended twice, most recently until 31 March 2026. The repeated extensions themselves reveal that the original objective of quickly clearing pending cases has not been achieved.

Fast in name, ordinary in functioning

The fundamental weakness is built into the design. Fast Track Courts generally follow the same laws, evidentiary requirements and trial procedures as ordinary courts. They depend upon the same police officers, forensic laboratories, prosecutors, witnesses and administrative machinery. A separate courtroom does not create a separate justice system.

The Union Government has itself acknowledged the causes of delay. These include inadequate physical infrastructure, complexity of facts, poor quality of investigation, the nature of evidence, insufficient forensic support, witness related difficulties, legal representation and procedural requirements.

The source document provided for this article identifies the same institutional failures: judicial vacancies, inadequate infrastructure, delayed investigations, shortage of forensic support, frequent adjournments, repeated transfers of judges and the absence of specialised training. These conditions affect ordinary courts and Fast Track Courts alike. Changing the name on the courtroom door cannot remove them.

Most damagingly, the Government has acknowledged that no fixed time frame has been prescribed for courts to dispose of different categories of cases. Cases in Fast Track Special Courts may ideally be expected to conclude within a year, but that expectation is neither a statutory guarantee nor an enforceable deadline. A victim cannot demand a judgment within that period merely because the case has been assigned to a Fast Track Court.

A court without a prescribed time frame, dedicated manpower or measurable accountability is being asked to deliver speed through nomenclature alone.

BJP -ruled Delhi shows how the promise breaks down

Delhi provides one of the clearest illustrations of this gap between announcement and performance. And we know that Delhi’s law and order is directly controlled by the Union Home Minister. According to an analysis by The Indian Express, Delhi’s 16 Fast Track Special Courts had a disposal rate of only 19 per cent as of May 2023, among the lowest in the country. They had cumulatively disposed of 1,049 cases while 4,369 remained pending. By comparison, Uttar Pradesh recorded a disposal rate of 36 per cent, Bihar 28 per cent, Mizoram 66.5 per cent and Kerala 65 per cent. (The Indian Express)

The contrast cannot be explained merely by the number of courts. Delhi had approximately one special court for every 12.5 lakh people. Uttar Pradesh had one for every 10 lakh people. Nor can the problem be reduced entirely to funding. Government data cited in the report showed that each special court nationally received an average of about ₹24 lakh, while a Delhi court received approximately ₹26.5 lakh. (The Indian Express)

The deeper problem was capacity. In 2022, subordinate courts across India had 5,850 vacancies against a sanctioned strength of 25,042 judges, a vacancy rate of approximately 23 per cent. Delhi’s subordinate judiciary had a vacancy rate of 22.9 per cent. Yet its disposal rate remained less than half the national average cited in the analysis. (The Indian Express)

Individual judges were carrying workloads that made the promise of speedy justice almost impossible. A POCSO judge in Delhi reportedly handled at least 250 to 300 cases, with the burden reaching as high as 750 cases in some courts. One judge described waiting for as long as eight years for a forensic report and having to repeatedly pursue investigating officers for supplementary chargesheets. (The Indian Express)

These are not minor administrative inconveniences. They determine whether evidence survives, whether witnesses remain available, whether victims retain the emotional strength to continue and whether a trial reaches a credible conclusion.

The national evidence is equally troubling

Historical data also challenges the assumption that placing a case in a Fast Track Court automatically shortens the trial. An analysis based on National Crime Records Bureau data for 2018 found that 78 per cent of approximately 28,000 trials completed by Fast Track Courts took more than one year. Around 42 per cent continued for more than three years, while 17 per cent took over five years. (The Leaflet)

The same analysis found sharp disparities between States. While a large share of cases in Haryana and Chhattisgarh were completed within a year, Fast Track Courts in most other States concluded fewer than 10 per cent of trials within that period. This unevenness exposes the weakness of a uniform announcement operating through unequal State capacity. (The Leaflet)

Government figures from 2022 provide further context. At that time, 712 Fast Track Special Courts had 1,86,753 pending cases. They had disposed of 81,462 cases during the reporting period up to February 2022. Uttar Pradesh alone had 73,962 pending cases before its 218 courts. Delhi’s 16 courts had 4,517 pending cases and had disposed of only 249 during the period reported.

The number of functioning regular Fast Track Courts has also fluctuated instead of expanding steadily. It rose from 676 in 2018 to 907 in 2020, fell to 898 in 2021 and stood at 915 in January 2022. By January 2026, the number was 862. The country therefore had fewer operational regular Fast Track Courts in 2026 than it had four years earlier.

This decline is important. It shows that the model is dependent upon the priorities, finances and administrative capacity of individual States. Central funding for regular Fast Track Courts was discontinued after March 2015, leaving States to establish and maintain them according to their own resources.

Disposal figures do not tell the whole story

Governments frequently cite the number of cases disposed of as evidence of success. That figure needs careful interpretation. Disposal can result from conviction, acquittal, withdrawal, procedural closure or the collapse of a prosecution due to weak evidence. A higher disposal rate does not necessarily establish that justice was swift, fair or effective.

A study cited by The Indian Express, based on 667 POCSO judgments, found that victims turned hostile in 67.5 per cent of cases. Judges also warned that relatively easier cases may be concluded first while complex cases remain pending because investigations are incomplete. Disposal statistics can therefore improve without resolving the hardest cases or delivering meaningful justice to victims. (The Indian Express)

A credible evaluation must examine how long each case took, the age of the pending cases, judicial vacancies, conviction outcomes, quality of investigation, reasons for acquittal, forensic delays, witness protection and the experience of victims. Yet the Government has admitted that no recent independent third party evaluation of regular Fast Track Courts has been undertaken.

The Government’s approach has focused heavily on counting institutions. As of June 2025, according to the source document, 725 Fast Track Special Courts, including 392 exclusive POCSO courts, had disposed of 3,34,213 cases since inception. The scheme carried an outlay of ₹1,952.23 crore, including a Central share of ₹1,207.24 crore, while ₹1,034.55 crore had been released to States and Union Territories. These numbers establish scale, but they do not establish timely justice.

Paper leaks require prevention, accountability and restitution

The crisis in public examinations cannot be resolved primarily through criminal trials. By the time a paper leak case reaches court, the damage has already occurred. Students have lost an academic year. Families have spent money on coaching, travel and accommodation. Age limits may have closed. Mental health may have deteriorated. Public confidence may have collapsed.

The first responsibility of the Government is prevention. Examination systems require digitally secured question banks, randomised papers, strict access controls, transparent audit trails, independent oversight and immediate identification of breaches. Investigations require specialised police teams, cyber expertise, protected evidence chains and time bound chargesheets. Students require immediate reexaminations, financial compensation and institutional support when an examination is compromised.

Fast Track Courts enter the picture only after all these systems have failed.

Even then, speed will remain impossible unless the courts are supported by dedicated judges, trained prosecutors, specialised investigators, sufficient staff, modern courtrooms, functioning forensic laboratories and witness protection. Otherwise, paper leak cases will join the same queue of delayed investigations, incomplete chargesheets and repeated adjournments that has weakened the existing Fast Track Court system.

Accountability cannot be replaced by an announcement

PM Modi’s proposal may form one part of a broader reform package, but presented as the principal response to the examination crisis, it is a piecemeal measure. The empirical record shows that Fast Track Courts frequently function at the pace of the wider criminal justice system. Many have no enforceable disposal deadlines. Judges are overburdened. Investigations are delayed. Forensic reports arrive years late. Vacancies remain unfilled. Performance varies sharply across States. The Government does not even possess a recent independent evaluation of regular Fast Track Courts.

Students are therefore entitled to ask whether this announcement is designed to deliver justice or to manage public anger.

The examination crisis is fundamentally a crisis of governance and accountability. Unless Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan accepts moral responsibility and resigns, the announcement of Fast Track Courts will remain tokenism. It will be seen as an attempt to divert attention from the collapse of the examination system, the suffering of students and the failure of those entrusted with protecting their future.

The Parliament Papers #6: India Doesn’t Need Another Committee. It Needs a New Education Architecture.

Cooperative Federalism, Unbundling & Standards should be key features of Education Reforms

Every major examination scandal in India follows an increasingly familiar script. A question paper is compromised, students erupt in protest, governments promise tougher laws, committees are constituted, arrests are announced, and fresh assurances are offered that the system has been fixed. Yet within months, another examination is questioned, another recruitment process is delayed, and another generation of students is left wondering whether merit alone is enough. India has become remarkably efficient at responding to examination crises. It has been far less successful at redesigning the institutions that produce them.

The recent upheaval surrounding national entrance examinations has once again brought education to the centre of public debate. The resignation of the Union Education Minister marks an important moment of political accountability, but it should not become the end of the conversation. Political accountability addresses responsibility for a crisis; it does not, by itself, repair the institutional architecture that allowed the crisis to emerge. If the national response once again culminates in another committee, another law or another set of criminal penalties, India risks treating symptoms while leaving the underlying design unchanged.

This is particularly important because the examination crisis is only one manifestation of a much broader governance challenge. Over the past decade, India has steadily centralised educational regulation, expanded the role of national entrance examinations and concentrated operational responsibilities in a handful of institutions. The objective- creating uniform standards and ensuring nationwide meritwas entirely legitimate. But centralisation also created a single point of failure. When one national examination falters, millions of students across every state bear the consequences simultaneously. The lesson, therefore, is not that India needs weaker national standards. It is that national standards must be separated from operational control.

The question before policymakers is therefore much larger than whether the next examination should be conducted more securely. It is whether India’s education system should continue to rely upon highly centralised institutions, or whether it should evolve towards a model that combines strong national standards with greater autonomy for states, universities and schools. This distinction is critical. The future of Indian education will not be determined merely by preventing the next paper leak. It will be determined by whether we build institutions that are resilient enough to prevent the next systemic failure.

The instinctive response to every examination crisis in India has been to tighten penalties, create new oversight mechanisms and appoint expert committees. There is logic to this approach. Large-scale public examinations require credibility, and when that credibility is undermined, governments must reassure students that corrective action is underway. Yet there is an important distinction between crisis management and institutional reform. One restores confidence in the short term; the other reduces the likelihood of the next crisis.

The experience of the past few years illustrates this difference. Following the controversy surrounding NEET-UG 2024, the Union Government constituted a High-Level Committee under the chairmanship of former ISRO Chairman Dr. K. Radhakrishnan to examine the functioning of the National Testing Agency (NTA). The Committee submitted 101 recommendations covering governance reforms, examination security, technological safeguards, data management, transparency and institutional capacity. The breadth of those recommendations itself was revealing. It suggested that the challenge extended well beyond isolated paper leaks or individual acts of malpractice; it pointed towards weaknesses in governance, technology, accountability and institutional design.

The announcement of another high-level committee in the aftermath of the latest examination crisis therefore raises a larger policy question. The issue is not whether expert committees are useful. They are. The real question is whether India has become too dependent on committees as a substitute for structural reform. Every committee diagnoses a problem, but few fundamentally alter the architecture within which that problem repeatedly emerges. Public confidence is strengthened not merely by appointing distinguished experts but by demonstrating how institutional learning translates into durable change.

This tendency towards incremental responses is visible beyond examination reform. Parliament has enacted stronger anti-paper leak legislation. Investigative agencies have intensified enforcement. States have tightened security protocols. These are necessary measures, and no serious reform agenda can ignore the importance of deterrence. However, criminal law is designed to punish wrongdoing after it occurs. It is not, by itself, a substitute for designing institutions in which wrongdoing becomes significantly more difficult.

The larger question is whether India has inadvertently concentrated too much operational responsibility within a few national institutions. When a single examination determines the future of millions of students, and when that examination is administered through a highly centralised institutional framework, any administrative failure assumes national proportions. This is not simply a problem of examination security; it is a problem of system architecture. A resilient education system should minimise single points of failure, distribute operational responsibilities appropriately, and create multiple layers of institutional accountability.

The debate, therefore, should move beyond whether another committee should be constituted or another law enacted. The more fundamental challenge is to redesign the governance framework itself. India requires institutions that learn continuously rather than merely responding episodically, institutions that separate standard-setting from implementation, and institutions that distribute responsibility without diluting accountability. The objective should not be to build a stronger bureaucracy around examinations, but to build a stronger education system in which examination integrity becomes one consequence of better institutional design rather than the sole measure of success.

This brings us to the central policy question. If excessive operational centralisation creates systemic risk, what should replace it? The answer is neither complete centralisation nor complete decentralisation. India’s size, diversity and constitutional structure demand something more sophisticated: a model of cooperative federalism in which the Union defines national standards, finances educational equity and independently monitors outcomes, while states, universities and local institutions enjoy far greater autonomy over implementation.

This distinction between standard-setting and service delivery is not merely administrative; it is the defining characteristic of successful education systems across many federal democracies. Their experience demonstrates that governments do not have to choose between national coherence and local autonomy. The most resilient systems achieve both by clearly separating who sets standards from who delivers education.

Decentralisation is the key: More Power to States.

Canada offers perhaps the clearest example. Despite consistently ranking among the world’s highest-performing education systems in the OECD’s Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA), Canada has no federal ministry of education. Education is administered entirely by the provinces, reflecting the country’s constitutional commitment to provincial autonomy. National coordination is achieved through the Council of Ministers of Education, Canada (CMEC), an intergovernmental body that facilitates collaboration on curriculum benchmarking, student mobility, international assessments and mutual recognition of qualifications. Crucially, CMEC exercises persuasion rather than command; provinces cooperate because coordination serves their collective interest, not because they are legally directed to do so. The result is a system that combines local responsiveness with consistently high educational outcomes.

Germany follows a remarkably similar philosophy. Education is regarded as the constitutional responsibility of the sixteen Länder, each of which designs curricula, recruits teachers, administers schools and finances much of its education system. At the national level, the Kultusministerkonferenz (KMK)—the Standing Conference of Ministers of Education and Cultural Affairs—ensures comparability of qualifications, establishes common educational standards and represents Germany internationally on education matters. Once again, the emphasis is not on central administration but on coordination, benchmarking and mutual accountability. Diversity across states is treated not as a weakness but as an opportunity for experimentation, while nationally agreed standards preserve educational mobility across the federation.

Australia provides another instructive example. While education remains largely the responsibility of individual states and territories, the Australian Curriculum, Assessment and Reporting Authority (ACARA) develops national curriculum frameworks, administers the National Assessment Program and publishes transparent school performance data through the My School platform. States remain responsible for implementation, teacher recruitment and school administration, yet nationally comparable data allows governments and citizens alike to identify strengths, weaknesses and inequities. Transparency becomes a tool of accountability without requiring operational centralisation.

Even in the United States, where debates over education policy are often politically contentious, operational responsibility overwhelmingly rests with states and local school districts. The federal Department of Education influences policy primarily through targeted funding, civil rights enforcement, research and data collection rather than direct management of schools or admissions. National objectives coexist with substantial local discretion.

India’s constitutional, linguistic and social diversity is undoubtedly more complex than any of these examples, and no international model can simply be transplanted into Indian conditions. Yet they converge on one important principle: successful federations distinguish between governing education and guaranteeing educational standards. Governments at the centre define broad goals, ensure equity across regions, finance national priorities and measure outcomes. Sub-national governments and educational institutions determine how those goals are achieved.

India, by contrast, has increasingly blurred these functions. National institutions today often combine policymaking, implementation, regulation, examination administration and oversight within overlapping bureaucratic structures. This concentration of functions creates institutional overload and, more importantly, converts operational failures into national crises. When a centrally administered examination is compromised, millions of students across every state bear the consequences simultaneously. A system intended to create uniformity inadvertently creates systemic vulnerability.

The policy lesson is therefore not that the Union should withdraw from education. On the contrary, India’s regional disparities make a strong national role indispensable. The Union Government alone possesses the fiscal capacity to equalise educational opportunities across states, finance research universities, support aspirational districts and establish national benchmarks for learning outcomes. It should continue to perform these functions—and perform them more effectively. What requires reconsideration is not the presence of the Union, but the nature of its involvement.

A mature federal education system should therefore assign distinct responsibilities to different levels of government. The Union should establish standards, finance equity, publish transparent performance indicators and independently audit educational outcomes. States should design implementation strategies, administer schools, recruit teachers and adapt policies to local conditions. Universities should enjoy greater academic and administrative autonomy within nationally recognised quality frameworks. Schools and municipalities should receive greater flexibility over pedagogy and innovation while remaining accountable for measurable learning outcomes. Such a model would preserve national cohesion without sacrificing institutional diversity.

The objective, therefore, is not decentralisation for its own sake. It is the creation of a governance architecture in which responsibility, authority and accountability are aligned. Strong national standards need not imply centralised administration, just as greater state autonomy need not come at the cost of educational quality. The real challenge is to design institutions that combine both.

Unbundling, Standard-Setting and Reforming Examinations

The debate on education reform in India has often been framed as a choice between centralisation and decentralisation. That is a false binary. The real challenge is not deciding who controls education; it is deciding which institution should perform which function. Mature public policy is built on the principle that institutions perform best when their mandates are clear, limited and accountable. India’s education system has gradually moved in the opposite direction. Policymaking, financing, regulation, examination, implementation and accountability are frequently concentrated within overlapping bureaucratic structures, creating duplication, diffusion of responsibility and institutional overload.

The first principle of reform, therefore, should be functional unbundling.

The Union Government should remain the principal financier of educational equity and national priorities. A country as diverse as India cannot leave resource allocation entirely to states with vastly different fiscal capacities. National investments in research universities, institutions of national importance, aspirational districts, digital public infrastructure and scholarships for disadvantaged students require the fiscal strength that only the Union possesses. Yet financing should increasingly reward measurable improvements in learning outcomes, infrastructure, teacher availability and inclusion, rather than simply expanding centrally designed schemes. States should enjoy greater flexibility in achieving nationally agreed outcomes instead of implementing uniform programmes with limited room for local innovation.



The second function is standard-setting, which should be institutionally separated from administration. India requires nationally comparable learning benchmarks, curriculum frameworks, qualification recognition and quality assurance, but these responsibilities need not remain fragmented across multiple regulators and agencies. Instead, the Government should establish a National Education Standards Authority by consolidating standard-setting functions that are presently dispersed across different institutions. Its mandate should be limited and clearly defined: develop national learning benchmarks, coordinate with state boards and universities, facilitate qualification recognition, represent India in international assessments such as PISA, and periodically publish evidence-based standards for curriculum, pedagogy and learning outcomes. Like Australia’s ACARA or Canada’s CMEC, it would not administer schools or conduct examinations. Its purpose would be to ensure coherence, comparability and continuous improvement across India’s education system.

The third function is assessment and examination integrity, an area that has understandably attracted the greatest public attention in recent years. India’s response has largely focused on strengthening the National Testing Agency and enhancing punitive measures against paper leaks. These are necessary but insufficient reforms. Examination governance must become technologically robust, transparent and professionally managed. The National Testing Agency should therefore evolve from being merely an examination-conducting body into a specialised institution focused on examination design, digital security, operational excellence and integrity assurance. States and accredited institutions should progressively assume greater responsibility for conducting examinations under nationally prescribed protocols, while the NTA develops secure digital infrastructure, common standards and audit mechanisms. In this framework, the emphasis shifts from centralised execution to nationally guaranteed integrity.

The fourth pillar is institutional autonomy, accompanied by measurable accountability. One of the unintended consequences of increasing centralisation has been the gradual erosion of decision-making space available to universities and schools. Academic institutions function best when they are trusted to innovate while remaining accountable for outcomes. Universities should have greater freedom over admissions policies within broad national norms, interdisciplinary curricula, faculty recruitment, academic collaborations and research priorities. Schools should similarly enjoy greater flexibility in pedagogy and assessment within nationally benchmarked learning standards. Excessive procedural control has too often displaced educational leadership with administrative compliance.

This shift towards autonomy must be matched by a stronger culture of evidence-based evaluation. Rather than creating another regulator, the Government should strengthen the University Grants Commission’s outcome-monitoring role—or, if future reforms make it desirable, establish a lean and independent national benchmarking office dedicated to measuring institutional performance. Its responsibility should not be regulatory micromanagement, but transparent publication of comparable indicators across universities and states: learning outcomes, graduate employability, research quality, accreditation status, faculty strength, examination integrity, financial efficiency and student progression. Such benchmarking would allow governments, institutions and citizens alike to identify both excellence and underperformance through publicly available data, encouraging improvement through transparency rather than excessive administrative control.

Taken together, these reforms represent a shift from government as administrator to government as architect. The Union Government would retain—and indeed strengthen—its role in financing educational equity, establishing national standards and measuring outcomes. States would acquire greater flexibility in implementation. Universities would regain meaningful academic autonomy. Independent institutions would safeguard standards and integrity. Responsibility would become clearer, accountability more transparent, and innovation easier to encourage. The objective is not to create a larger education bureaucracy, but a smarter governance architecture in which every institution performs the function it is best equipped to discharge.

Rethinking Examinations: From High-Stakes Testing to High-Trust Learning

The debate over examination reform in India has understandably focused on security: encrypted question papers, digital surveillance, stronger penalties, biometric verification and tighter invigilation. These measures are necessary. But they address only the mechanics of conducting examinations, not the philosophy behind them. India’s examination crisis is not merely a consequence of weak security; it is also the product of an education system that places extraordinary weight on a handful of high-stakes tests. When a single examination determines admission, employment or social mobility for millions of young people, every administrative lapse becomes a national emergency.

This dependence on one-time, high-stakes examinations has steadily transformed the relationship between schooling and learning. For millions of students, the objective is no longer to acquire knowledge but to clear an entrance examination. Schools increasingly prepare students for board examinations, while coaching institutes prepare them for competitive examinations, creating parallel education systems that often operate independently of one another. Families spend enormous sums on private coaching because success is perceived to depend less on what students learn in classrooms than on how effectively they prepare for a single test. The result is an education ecosystem in which examinations shape learning rather than learning shaping examinations.

The answer is not to abolish national entrance examinations. In a country where demand for quality higher education far exceeds supply, transparent and merit-based selection mechanisms remain indispensable. However, merit should not be measured through a single three-hour examination alone. Universities should progressively adopt multiple pathways for admissions, combining board performance, standardised aptitude assessments, subject-specific tests, portfolios where appropriate and contextual indicators that recognise educational disadvantage. Such flexibility already exists in different forms across several advanced education systems and allows institutions to evaluate potential more comprehensively than a single examination score.

Technology also offers opportunities to fundamentally redesign the examination process. Secure digital question banks, algorithmic randomisation of questions, computer-based adaptive testing, encrypted transmission, AI-assisted anomaly detection and continuous cybersecurity audits can substantially reduce opportunities for malpractice while improving efficiency. Examinations should increasingly move towards multiple testing windows throughout the year rather than concentrating the aspirations of millions of students into a single date. A student whose performance is affected by illness, technical failures or unforeseen circumstances should not be compelled to wait an entire academic year for another opportunity. Flexibility enhances fairness without compromising standards.

Equally important is the need to restore the centrality of schools. An education system in which coaching becomes indispensable reflects not only the competitiveness of examinations but also a loss of confidence in school education itself. Public policy should aim to strengthen classroom teaching, improve foundational learning, invest in teacher quality and make school assessments more meaningful so that schools once again become the primary site of learning. Competitive examinations should assess competencies that schools are expected to develop, rather than rewarding specialised coaching disconnected from classroom education.

Ultimately, the objective of examination reform should not be to conduct more secure examinations alone. It should be to create an education system in which learning, curiosity, creativity and critical thinking matter at least as much as performance in a single high-pressure test. Examinations will always remain an essential part of education. They should, however, become gateways to opportunity rather than bottlenecks that define a student’s future in one sitting.

Conclusion

India’s recurring examination crises have exposed more than weaknesses in question paper security or administrative capacity. They have revealed the limitations of an education governance architecture that has gradually accumulated too many responsibilities within too few institutions. The temptation after every controversy is to seek immediate solutions – a new committee, a stricter law, a more secure examination process. Such responses are understandable and often necessary. Yet they remain incomplete if they leave the underlying architecture unchanged.

The challenge before India is therefore larger than reforming one examination agency or replacing one administrative mechanism. It is to redesign the relationship between the Union, the states, universities, regulators and examining bodies so that each performs the function it is best equipped to discharge. National standards must remain strong, but implementation should become more flexible. The Union Government should focus on financing educational equity, defining benchmarks and publishing transparent performance data. States should enjoy greater autonomy in delivery and innovation. Universities should recover meaningful academic freedom while remaining accountable for outcomes. Institutions responsible for standard-setting, quality assurance and examination integrity should possess clear mandates and operational independence. Above all, accountability should arise from transparency, evidence and public scrutiny rather than from periodic administrative intervention.

India has reached an inflection point. The latest examination crisis should not be remembered merely as another episode of institutional failure or political controversy. It should become the moment when the country recognised that educational excellence cannot be built through crisis management alone. Great education systems are not sustained by tougher penalties or more elaborate bureaucracies. They are sustained by institutions that are trusted, responsibilities that are clearly assigned and governance structures that encourage innovation while ensuring accountability.

The question before policymakers is therefore not whether India needs another committee. It is whether India has the ambition to build a new education architecture worthy of the aspirations of the world’s largest student population. If reform is confined to repairing the next examination, the cycle of crisis will inevitably return. If, however, this moment is used to redesign the institutions that govern education itself, India can move beyond managing failures and begin building an education system that is resilient, equitable and prepared for the demands of the twenty-first century.

The Parliament Papers #7: When the State Meets the Street: Why Indian Police Must Rethink Crowd Control

How do we bridge the gap between Constitutional norms and Operational accountability on the ground, when dealing with crowd control?

Part I

On 20 July 2026, thousands of students converged on the heart of New Delhi, at Jantar Mantar, demanding the resignation of Education Minister Dhramendra Pradhan and reforms to India’s examination system after the NEET paper leak. The outpouring was organic even though the Cockroach Janata Party (CJP) had given a call for Sansad Chalo. Just a day before that, the Delhi Police Commissioner was unceremoniously replaced by the Union Home Ministry. Social Media was littered with videos of how the Delhi Police, RAF and many men in plain uniform, hooligans, etc targeted the students with impunity. Brute force was used. Lathicharge, tear gas, pellet guns – all methods of brute force and excesses were used against the protestors. Police kicked young women.

Shock batons were used on the neck; some reports suggest that even the Delhi Police barricades had electric current. Mainstream Media, as usual, forgot to record this or show any outrage. They were busy blaming the protestors. Youtubers and social media showed the real picture. Police or not, but goons were tearing the clothes of women. Many 15- 16-year-old young women and men complained of brutal physical force. Thousands suffered severe blows and injuries. Hundreds were hospitalised. The internet was shut down in the vicinity, resulting in a breakdown of communications between the hospitalised students and their parents. Visuals of many police officers without badges indiscriminately hitting protestors surfaced. Their names were missing. So it looked as if the government had decided on this type of crackdown, and the police were loyally following the orders. Tear gas, baton charges, pellet rounds, preventive detentions and arrests all were used. Similar protests spread to several states over the following days, with reports of detentions and preventive action against students in Bihar, Rajasthan, Assam, West Bengal and Maharashtra. The Opposition has demanded that the Union Home Minister make a statement in Parliament and that an independent Judicial Commission must be made to ascertain the excessive use of force, including the use of force like stone-pelting against the police.

The events raised a Constitutional question that extends well beyond a single instance. Every Democratic state has a legitimate obligation to maintain public order. Equally, every Constitutional Democracy is expected to protect the Fundamental Right of citizens to assemble peacefully and express dissent. The challenge is not whether the police should enforce the law. The moot question is about the methods used to enforce it remain consistent with Constitutional principles, Democratic accountability and internationally accepted standards governing the use of force.

This distinction is important because discussions on policing in India often descend into binaries. One side portrays every police action as repression. The other treats every use of force as an unavoidable consequence of maintaining order. Neither position adequately reflects the realities faced by officers on the ground or the rights guaranteed to citizens.

An insightful recent article by IPS officer Abhinav Kumar argued that the events at Jantar Mantar revealed failures in planning rather than merely failures of force. He observed that modern protest movements often emerge through decentralised online mobilisation rather than traditional political organisations. Intelligence gathering therefore has to monitor digital mobilisation, identify interlocutors early, engage organisers before confrontation develops and adopt crowd management strategies that prioritise communication over coercion. His central argument was that policing must move at the same speed as the street rather than responding only after tensions have already escalated.

That operational perspective deserves serious consideration. Police officers are frequently required to make split second decisions under difficult circumstances. Crowds are dynamic. Yet operational challenges cannot become a substitute for constitutional accountability.

The literature on policing in India shows remarkable consistency on this point. Whether one reads academic research, judicial decisions, human rights manuals or studies written by former police officers, the conclusion is broadly the same. India’s challenge is not simply that force is sometimes used. It is that institutional safeguards governing when force is used, how much force is used and how accountability follows afterwards remain woefully inadequate.

A recent policy paper published by The Hindu Centre argues that despite changes to India’s criminal justice laws, policing continues to operate within institutional structures that preserve extensive discretionary powers while failing to sufficiently strengthen accountability. Quoting the First National Police Commission, the paper reminds readers that the fundamental challenge has always been to build “an efficient and impartial law enforcement agency” guided by public service and constitutional liberty rather than by coercive authority.

Genuine reform requires reshaping the police into a community sensitive institution firmly committed to the rule of law. The Constitutional debate therefore cannot be reduced to whether the police acted too harshly on one particular day. It is about whether India’s institutional design encourages crowd management or crowd suppression.

This distinction is also reflected in international policing standards. The United Nations Basic Principles on the Use of Force and Firearms require law enforcement officials, wherever possible, to employ non violent means before resorting to force. Where force becomes unavoidable, it must satisfy the principles of necessity, proportionality and restraint. The same principles emphasise minimising injury, preserving human life, providing prompt medical assistance and ensuring accountability whenever force results in injury or death. They also state that in dispersing unlawful but non violent assemblies, force should be avoided wherever possible and, if unavoidable, restricted to the minimum extent necessary.

These are not abstract ideals. They are operational principles intended precisely for moments like those witnessed in Delhi on 20 July.

The broader question, therefore, is not whether governments should preserve public order. They must. Nor is it whether police officers sometimes face dangerous situations. They unquestionably do. The question is whether India’s current approach equips officers with sufficient alternatives to force, while simultaneously assuring citizens that the exercise of coercive power remains transparent, proportionate and accountable.

Part II



The Constitutional position on crowd control in India is considerably clearer than the reality faced by the public. Indian law recognises that the State has both the authority and the obligation to maintain public order. At the same time, it places substantive limits on how that authority may be exercised. The power to disperse an assembly is therefore not an unrestricted policing power. It is a Constitutional power, bounded by legality, necessity, proportionality and accountability.

Whenever protests turn confrontational, this aspect is often lost. Public discussion quickly shifts towards whether demonstrators violated prohibitory orders or whether the police had to “restore law and order.” Yet Constitutional jurisprudence asks a different question. Even where an assembly becomes unlawful, was the force employed the minimum necessary? Were peaceful alternatives genuinely exhausted? Was the response proportionate to the threat? Were adequate warnings issued? Could the objective have been achieved through less intrusive means?

These questions have repeatedly guided the Supreme Court over the past two decades.

One of the most important decisions remains Ramlila Maidan Incident v. Home Secretary, Union of India (2012). The case arose after the midnight police operation against sleeping protesters at Delhi’s Ramlila Maidan in June 2011. While recognising that the State possesses the authority to regulate assemblies and preserve public order, the Supreme Court unequivocally held that police action must remain consistent with Constitutional guarantees under Articles 19 and 21. It emphasised that the right to peaceful protest occupies a central place in Democratic life and that the use of force by the State is permissible only within narrowly defined constitutional limits. The Court observed stressed that even while dispersing an unlawful assembly, authorities remain under an obligation to use only the minimum force necessary to achieve a legitimate objective. The CHRI Handbook on Human Rights and Policing identifies the Ramlila Maidan judgment as one of the leading authorities governing police conduct during public protests and the protection of peaceful assembly.

The Court’s reasoning marked an important shift. It rejected the colonial understanding of crowds as objects to be subdued and instead approached protest as a constitutionally protected democratic activity. The judgment recognised that maintaining public order and protecting civil liberties are complementary obligations rather than competing ones.

This Constitutional philosophy was reaffirmed in Mazdoor Kisan Shakti Sangathan v. Union of India (2018). The Court held that restrictions imposed by the State must satisfy the Constitutional test of reasonableness. Citizens cannot be denied the opportunity to assemble merely because dissent creates inconvenience. Democratic governments must regulate protest without extinguishing it.

Equally important is the broader Constitutional framework governing policing itself. The CHRI handbook reminds police authorities that their primary responsibility is not merely the enforcement of law but the protection of Constitutional rights. Policing in a constitutional democracy derives its legitimacy from fidelity to the Constitution rather than from the exercise of coercive power. Every decision taken during crowd control therefore carries a Constitutional dimension because it directly implicates the freedoms of speech, movement and peaceful assembly guaranteed under Articles 19 and the protection of life and personal liberty under Article 21.

These principles closely mirror international legal standards. The United Nations Basic Principles on the Use of Force and Firearms by Law Enforcement Officials (1990) require that force be governed by three interrelated principles.

First is necessity. Law enforcement officials may resort to force only when non violent means have proved ineffective or clearly have no realistic prospect of achieving the legitimate policing objective.

Second is proportionality. The degree of force must correspond to the seriousness of the threat actually presented rather than to the mere existence of public disorder. Force intended to disperse a crowd cannot exceed what is reasonably required to restore safety.

Third is precaution. Authorities are expected to plan operations in ways that minimise the risk of injury both to protesters and to police personnel. Medical assistance should be provided promptly wherever injuries occur, and operational planning should seek to preserve life rather than simply regain physical control of public spaces. These principles are reflected both in international law and in analyses of Indian policing prepared after the anti CAA protests in Uttar Pradesh, which concluded that any assessment of police action must be measured against necessity, proportionality and precaution rather than against outcomes alone.

Recent judicial observations indicate that the Supreme Court continues to move in this direction. During hearings concerning police action against protesters at Delhi’s Jantar Mantar in July 2026, the Chief Justice reportedly remarked that agitation cannot justify police excess and questioned the continued use of lathi charges as a default crowd control mechanism, emphasising that democratic policing requires restraint even where demonstrations become difficult. Contemporary legal reporting indicates that the Court sought explanations from the authorities regarding the methods employed rather than merely the legality of the protest itself. This shift in emphasis is significant because it places the conduct of the State under the same constitutional scrutiny as the conduct of protesters.

The courts have therefore developed a coherent Constitutional philosophy over time. They have not denied the State the authority to disperse unlawful assemblies. Nor have they suggested that police officers should tolerate violence indefinitely. What they have consistently insisted upon is that coercive power must remain exceptional rather than routine, carefully calibrated rather than indiscriminate, and always subject to subsequent accountability.

This Constitutional framework also serves another purpose that is often overlooked. It protects police officers themselves. Clear legal standards reduce uncertainty during tense operations, provide objective guidance for field commanders, improve operational planning and reduce the likelihood that individual officers become personally exposed to allegations of misconduct arising from poorly planned crowd control decisions. Constitutional policing is therefore not anti police. It is good policing.

That gap between Constitutional doctrine and operational reality has become one of the defining questions of public order policing in contemporary India.

Part III



One of the striking features of the literature reviewed for this essay is the remarkable convergence between studies written by former police officers, constitutional scholars, human rights organisations and academic researchers. They differ in emphasis, but they identify largely the same structural weaknesses. Excessive force during crowd control is seldom the result of a single officer acting in isolation. More often, it reflects institutional shortcomings in planning, training, accountability and political decision making.

One of the earliest comprehensive studies, A Heavy Hand: The Use of Force by India’s Police, published by the Small Arms Survey, argues that democratic societies constantly negotiate the tension between “safeguards by the police” and “safeguards from the police.” The report concludes that India has historically prioritised order maintenance over service oriented policing, a legacy that continues to shape crowd control practices. It also identifies inadequate training, weak accountability mechanisms and insufficient institutional reforms as central reasons why excessive force persists. Significantly, it argues that meaningful reductions in police violence cannot occur without broader criminal justice reforms rather than merely disciplinary action against individual officers.

More recent scholarship arrives at remarkably similar conclusions. A 2025 study on accountability mechanisms in Indian policing argues that the excessive use of force is reinforced by political interference, inconsistent implementation of police reforms, inadequate training, overburdened personnel and weak independent oversight. While legal safeguards have expanded through judicial intervention, the institutional culture governing public order policing has not evolved at the same pace. The paper concludes that accountability mechanisms such as Police Complaints Authorities, recommended nearly two decades ago in Prakash Singh, remain unevenly implemented across states.

The most revealing evidence, however, comes from within the policing system itself. The Status of Policing in India Report 2025, based on one of the country’s largest surveys of police personnel, suggests that many officers themselves recognise structural deficiencies in training, resources and operational preparedness. At the same time, the report records that significant sections of the police continue to view the use of physical force as a necessary component of maintaining public order under difficult operational conditions. These findings complicate the public narrative. They suggest that excessive force cannot simply be understood as individual misconduct. It is also a product of institutional expectations, operational pressures and inadequate professional preparation.

Several contemporary case studies illustrate these structural weaknesses. The anti Sterlite protests in Thoothukudi in 2018 remain among the most significant examples of contested crowd control in recent years. Following extensive investigations, the Aruna Jegadeesan Commission concluded that numerous police and administrative officials bore responsibility for excessive force during the firing that killed thirteen protesters. The report criticised operational decision making, recommended departmental proceedings against several officials and questioned the justification for orders authorising the use of firearms. Yet, despite years of inquiry, accountability has remained limited, reinforcing concerns that institutional review mechanisms often struggle to translate findings into consequences.

The response to the anti Citizenship Amendment Act protests in Uttar Pradesh similarly attracted sustained legal scrutiny. The International Commission of Jurists concluded that aspects of the police response, including the use of firearms, baton charges and less lethal weapons, raised serious questions under both Indian constitutional law and international human rights standards. Rather than evaluating crowd control solely through the lens of restoring order, the report examined whether the operations satisfied the internationally recognised principles of necessity, proportionality and precaution. It concluded that these standards had not been consistently observed.

The recurrence of similar criticisms across unrelated incidents suggests that India faces a systemic rather than episodic challenge.

International experience offers an instructive contrast. While no democratic policing model is free from controversy, several jurisdictions have consciously shifted away from the philosophy of crowd suppression towards one of crowd management.

The United Kingdom has progressively institutionalised a system of graded command during major public order operations through the Gold, Silver and Bronze command structure. Operational commanders are expected to conduct detailed risk assessments, maintain continuous communication with protest organisers, document every escalation decision and ensure post operation review.

Sweden’s Dialogue Police model has become one of the most widely studied innovations in democratic protest policing. Instead of viewing communication as a preliminary step before force, specially trained dialogue officers remain in continuous contact with organisers before, during and after demonstrations. Their role is to reduce misunderstanding, defuse tension and isolate violent actors without unnecessarily confronting peaceful participants.

A third influential example comes from Northern Ireland, where decades of political conflict fundamentally transformed public order policing. Following the Patten reforms, the Police Service of Northern Ireland adopted a human rights based operational philosophy in which every crowd control decision is assessed against legality, necessity, proportionality and accountability. Extensive planning, video recording of operations, command accountability and post incident review became routine rather than exceptional features of major demonstrations.

These examples do not suggest that foreign models can simply be transplanted into India. India’s scale, political diversity and frequency of mass mobilisation present unique operational challenges. Nevertheless, they demonstrate that democracies can successfully maintain public order while relying less on coercion and more on communication, planning and transparency.

Perhaps the most important lesson emerging from comparative policing is conceptual rather than technological. The objective is no longer to defeat a crowd. It is to manage risk while preserving constitutional freedoms. Violence is addressed by isolating those responsible rather than treating the entire gathering as an adversarial force.

Part IV

The debate on police excesses often oscillates between two extremes. One demands unconditional support for every police action undertaken in the name of maintaining order. The other condemns every use of force as evidence of authoritarianism. Neither approach offers a sustainable framework for democratic policing. The real challenge is to strengthen both constitutional freedoms and the operational capacity of the police. A professional police force should be judged not only by its ability to restore order but also by its ability to preserve public trust while doing so.

Therefore, I suggest three broad reforms that could fundamentally improve India’s approach to crowd control.

The first reform is to professionalise public order policing by replacing reactive force with planned crowd management.

Most democratic jurisdictions no longer treat crowd control as a routine extension of ordinary policing. It is regarded as a specialised discipline requiring dedicated training, operational planning and negotiation. India has invested significantly in modernising weapons, surveillance and intelligence capabilities, but comparatively less attention has been devoted to specialised crowd management techniques.

Dedicated public order units should receive continuous training in negotiation, behavioural psychology, de escalation, communication and graded use of force. Every major demonstration should be preceded by structured engagement with organisers, advance risk assessment and clearly designated liaison officers. Such reforms have become standard practice in countries such as Sweden and the United Kingdom, where dialogue policing and structured command systems seek to prevent confrontation before it begins rather than relying upon force after tensions have escalated.

The second reform is to institutionalise independent accountability for every serious use of force during crowd control operations.

One of the recurring findings across academic studies, judicial decisions and policy reports is that accountability mechanisms remain fragmented and inconsistent. Investigations are often conducted by the same institutional hierarchy involved in the operation, public reporting is limited and lessons learned rarely translate into systemic reform. This weakens public confidence while simultaneously depriving police organisations of valuable opportunities for institutional learning.

The Supreme Court’s decision in Prakash Singh v. Union of India recognised this problem nearly two decades ago by directing states to establish independent Police Complaints Authorities. Implementation, however, has remained uneven across the country. Numerous subsequent studies continue to identify weak oversight as one of the principal reasons why allegations of excessive force rarely produce institutional change.

Every major crowd control operation resulting in death, grievous injury or significant allegations of excessive force should therefore automatically trigger an independent review. Such reviews should examine not merely individual conduct but operational planning, command decisions, communication failures, deployment strategies and compliance with the principles of necessity and proportionality. Body worn cameras, mandatory preservation of operational recordings and time bound publication of inquiry findings would improve transparency while also protecting officers against unfounded allegations.

Importantly, accountability should not be understood as punishment alone. It is equally a mechanism for improving future operational performance.

The third reform is to place Constitutional rights at the centre of public order policing rather than treating them as obstacles to policing.

India’s Constitutional jurisprudence has consistently recognised that peaceful assembly is not an administrative privilege granted by the State but a democratic freedom protected under Articles 19 and 21. Crowd control must therefore begin with a presumption in favour of facilitating peaceful protest while isolating and responding proportionately to unlawful conduct by individuals.

This requires a shift in institutional philosophy. The objective of police operations should not be to disperse every gathering at the earliest opportunity. Rather, the objective should be to facilitate peaceful assembly wherever possible while intervening only against conduct that genuinely threatens public safety. International standards embodied in the United Nations Basic Principles similarly require law enforcement agencies to exhaust non violent alternatives before resorting to force and, where force becomes unavoidable, to employ only the minimum level necessary to achieve a legitimate policing objective.

Such an approach also protects police personnel. Clear operational protocols reduce uncertainty, improve command decisions and provide officers with objective standards against which their actions can later be evaluated. Professional restraint should never be mistaken for institutional weakness. On the contrary, restraint exercised with confidence reflects organisational strength.

The events surrounding the student protests of 20th July 2026 have once again brought these questions into public focus. We have also witnessed how the present regime used brute force in the Farmers’ protest and the CAA protests, few years ago.

India does not suffer from an absence of legal authority. Indian police already possess extensive statutory powers to regulate assemblies and maintain public order. The real deficit lies in professional training, operational planning, independent oversight and institutional accountability.

The First National Police Commission articulated the challenge almost half a century ago when it argued that the fundamental task was to build “an efficient and impartial law enforcement agency” guided by service to the public and respect for constitutional liberties rather than coercive authority alone. That aspiration remains unfinished.

Democracies are ultimately judged not by how they police citizens who agree with the government but by how they police citizens who peacefully disagree with it. A police force that is better trained, more accountable, more responsive and more restrained is not merely better for protesters. It is better for the police, better for governments and, ultimately, better for Democracy itself.

Education System
The Parliament Papers : Accountability & Overhaul of the Education System

Fasting social activist Sonam Wangchuk and the Coackroch Janata Party (CJP) have massively shifted the goalposts of their demands, from demanding the resignation of the Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan to now having a diluted laundry list of “this or that”, effectively putting the onus on the Opposition parties. Many youngsters genuinely believed that this movement could usher in change. But youngsters are idealists. They don’t know that protests in India, in the current context, are orchestrated mechanisms to release some steam of anger and anti-incumbency against the government, effectively acting as a ‘safety valve’. I have been saying this since day one.

First things first. Something about this series.

The Parliament Papers is a forward-looking initiative to find solutions, seek accountability and raise difficult questions. It is my way of gathering notes from the House. It will bridge the gap between Politics (political economy) and Policy (hardcore solutions).

Thanks for reading India Centre Media! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Day 1 of the Parliament: What it must take up

Every Parliament has defining moments. Some are remembered for the laws they pass. Others are for the debates it refuses to have. The Monsoon Session opens with one such moment. The country’s education system is on the brink of complete collapse. There are several aspects to it. Both politically and policy-wise. I am highlighting three important aspects that should concern the young.

First, the Joint Committee examining the Viksit Bharat Shiksha Adhishthan (VBSA) Bill, 2025 was expected to finalise its report before Parliament convened. Instead, its meeting was cancelled and the report deferred. That delay should not be treated as a procedural inconvenience. It should be seen as an opportunity.

The VBSA Bill seeks to fundamentally redesign who controls Indian higher education, how universities function, who regulates them, and ultimately, who decides what academic freedom means.

The proposed legislation abolishes the UGC, AICTE and NCTE and replaces them with a single apex regulator. On paper, this is presented as administrative efficiency. In practice, critics fear it concentrates unprecedented authority within a single centralised structure. Even the Joint Parliamentary Committee expressed concern that excessive centralisation could undermine institutional autonomy.

Education is a Concurrent List subject under our Constitution. Yet the proposed architecture vests overwhelming control in the Union Government while diminishing the role of the States. Appointments become increasingly centralised. Universities challenging regulatory decisions could find themselves appealing back to the very executive that controls the regulator. Critics have also questioned whether the new structure adequately safeguards institutional diversity and representation.

Universities flourish because governments create space for scholarship. They corrode when governments supervise scholarship, and autonomy is lost. The Bill also creates a curious contradiction. It separates regulation from funding. The regulator will prescribe standards but will not finance them. Universities will be expected to build world-class laboratories, recruit faculty, and improve infrastructure, even as funding increasingly comes from elsewhere. Critics warn that this risks pushing public institutions toward higher fees and greater dependence on self-financing models. This shift did not begin with this Bill.

Years ago, the Higher Education Financing Agency (HEFA), jointly promoted by the Ministry of Education and Canara Bank, marked a significant change in how higher education infrastructure was financed. It sought to make the UGC toothless. Instead of relying primarily on grants, institutions increasingly accessed loan-based financing for capital expenditure. It weakens the traditional grant-based model that allowed public universities to expand without transferring costs to students. This effectively means that the students will have to bear the burden of increased fees.

This is why the present debate cannot be reduced to one piece of legislation.

Which brings me to the second aspect of this overhaul.

Over the past decade, university leadership appointments have repeatedly become politically contentious. It is not a secret that RSS calls the shots in the appointments of Vice Chancellors. Political entities across the world use their loyalists and cadres to take over the ‘system’. There is nothing fundamentally wrong with it, but when mediocrity replaces merit, then the alarm bells should ring. Faculty vacancies continue to remain high across many universities. Public expenditure on education remains well below the National Education Policy’s stated aspiration of 6% of GDP. UDISE+ data records large-scale school mergers and closures over the past decade. National assessments continue to show worrying gaps in foundational learning. Graduate employability remains a major challenge outside a handful of elite institutions.

The debate becomes even more urgent because it coincides with another crisis—the credibility of India’s examination system, which brings me to the giant elephant in the room. The third aspect of Paper Leaks.

Paper leaks are no longer exceptional events. They have become recurring headlines. According to an estimate, since 2014, an astounding 152 Paper Leaks have taken place.

Students preparing for competitive examinations invest years of their lives. Families mortgage land, exhaust savings, borrow from relatives and banks, hoping education will provide dignity and opportunity. When examinations are compromised, the loss is not merely academic. It is economic, emotional and deeply personal.

The recent mobilisation under Chhatron Ki Goonj, led by Rahul Gandhi, has sought to channel this frustration into demands for accountability and structural reforms. At the same time, social activist Sonam Wangchuk’s prolonged hunger strike has focused renewed national attention on the examination crisis and institutional accountability.

Different political platforms may choose different methods.

But the underlying question remains the same.

Can young Indians continue to trust the institutions responsible for their future?

That question inevitably brings attention to the National Testing Agency.

The NTA Connundrum

The National Testing Agency (NTA) was created to make examinations more transparent, efficient and credible. Instead, repeated controversies surrounding major entrance examinations, including NEET. These have raised serious concerns about governance, security and public confidence. Paper Leak Mafia rules the roost. The young are questioning.

Another underplayed, lesser-known institution is the National Recruitment Agency (NRA), which was announced with the promise of a Common Eligibility Test that would simplify recruitment for millions of aspirants. Years later, no implementation has taken place, while candidates continue to navigate multiple examinations, cancellations and uncertainty. Independent reporting has documented how millions of applicants continue waiting for reforms that were promised but remain incomplete.

Primary education, too, has not remained immune to the corrosion. The NCERT syllabus rationalisation exercise removed or reduced several historical and political topics. The latest controversy surrounding the Bronze statuette of a dancing girl from the Indus Valley Civilisation is only one example of how the rot of mediocrity has reached our textbooks. Mughals, Nehru, Gandhi, Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose – all have been systematically removed or reduced from NCERT textbooks. Political colouring of textbooks has become more ingrained and solidified in the last twelve years.

Equally important is the shrinking space for dissent within universities.

Student politics has historically been a nursery for Democratic leadership. Many of India’s foremost political leaders began their public lives on university campuses. Yet in recent years, several campuses have witnessed increased police intervention, criminal proceedings, and heightened security responses to student protests.

A Democracy should not fear its students. Universities are meant to produce questioning minds, not silent classrooms.

This is why reducing the Parliamentary debate to the resignation of one minister would be inadequate.

Individual accountability matters. Ministerial responsibility matters. But Parliament owes the country something larger.

It must ask whether India is witnessing not a series of disconnected failures, but a gradual restructuring of its education system- through changes in regulation, funding, governance, curriculum, recruitment and institutional autonomy.

Members of Parliament should use this session not merely to argue over one Bill.

They should ask a far bigger question.

What kind of education system does India want to build for the next generation?

Because once institutions lose their autonomy, restoring them takes decades.

When education loses public trust, the price is paid not by governments, but by an entire generation.

Flooded Gurgaon | August 2024
Overlooked and Neglected: Haryana will also vote against BJP’s urban apathy

There is widespread consensus that farm distress, rampant unemployment, rising inequality and Agnipath scheme are the overarching issues that dominate the narrative of the Haryana Assembly elections. Political observers, on-ground reports, and commentators have said that these issues will also crowd out the conventional caste calculations in the state. Even though this assertion is a bit far-fetched when you closely examine the list of the candidates of various political parties, nonetheless, there is tremendous anti-incumbency on the ground against the BJP.

A deeper look at the factors affecting the Haryana elections, however, reveal that not just rural issues, urban neglect and poor infrastructure issues would also determine the outcome. This is important, because much of the media space has been consumed in covering spill over issues from the Lok Sabha elections in the rural paradigm.

The Congress won 46 Assembly segments in the Lok Sabha elections, but 44 segments were also won by the BJP. The Congress swept rural Haryana, but the BJP retained its conventional urban foothold in more than 20 urban and semi-urban seats including Gurugram, Faridabad, Karnal, Hisar, Sonepat and Badshahpur segments, while the Congress made an impressive comeback in Rohtak, Sirsa and Kurukshetra. In the ongoing Haryana elections, the Congress should take respite from the fact that BJP won 79 out of 90 Assembly segments in 2019 Lok Sabha elections, but few months down the line, reduced its tally to just 40 seats, and was forced to form an alliance government in the state, due to massive anti-incumbency.

This anti-incumbency has only peaked now in 2024. One of the understated reasons is widespread urban degradation in Haryana, lack of infrastructure, rising inequality, inflation, shutting down industries, low growth and investment, and unprecedented unemployment even in rural centres.

A microcosm of what is wrong in Haryana’s degrading urban landscape is Gurugram — the famed millennial city, where the per capita income of the city’s residents can easily be contrasted with the atrociously sliding public amenities in the city. Water logging has become a permanent fixture in the city, cave-like potholes is a menace on its roads and unpicked garbage remains strewn at street corners. Power cuts in posh Gurugram colonies and apartment are largely unnoticed because of the elite population, but in builder floors where most of the lower middle class resides, 3-4 hours of power cuts have become a routine. Water scarcity is all pervasive during the summer months, and Gurugram water tanker mafia indulges in rent seeking through surge pricing, making it impossible to adhere to BJP’s promise of “Ease of Living”! It is ironic that in 2022, the then CM claimed that Gurugram wasn’t included in the smart city list because they aimed to develop it into the “smartest city”!

Failed promises on the infrastructure front have hurt, the once vibrant state’s economy. After 10 years of economic surge under the Congress, the aspirations for “Number 1 Haryana” – a political slogan coined by the party, remained sky high, only to be disappointed by the BJP’s apathy in the last decade. There is an underlying sentiment that Haryana could have grown at a much faster speed, given its proximity to Delhi-NCR.

In the last 10 years, the BJP government in Haryana has failed to establish a single power plant. In 2024, the state faced a massive electricity shortage of over 1000 MW. Instead of planning ahead, the government is now buying power from the exchange at a very high rate of Rs 10 per unit, compared to the usual rate of Rs 2 to Rs 8 per unit for consumers. BJP had promised that the metro rail line from Gurugram would be extended to Bahadurgarh and Sonepat but even after a decade, there has been virtually no progress. The promised elevated rail corridor has failed to take off in Rohtak, while the work for the new railway lines connecting  Jind-Hansi and Yamunanagar-Karnal has not commenced. The Delhi-Sonepat-Panipat Rapid Rail Transit System (RRTS) have not been sanctioned, while Haryana Orbital Rail Corridor connecting Palwal to Sonepat is moving at a slow pace. BJP also promised an international airport in Hisar, but apart from the runway inauguration, other projects of the airport are pending. Out of the top 100 polluted cities in India, 15 belong to Haryana. These examples are just the tip of the iceberg, of how the BJP has failed the state’s infrastructure development, even though they had a ‘double-engine government’!

Critics might point out that Haryana’s economy is still thriving, but the reality is between 2004-05 to 2013-14, the average annual growth (GSDP) of the state at constant prices was 8.5 per cent and dropped to 6.8 per cent between 2011-12 to 2022-23. Correspondingly, the per capita income of the state increased by 251.4 per cent during Congress regime, while the same dropped to 179.7 per cent during BJP rule.

Indeed, rural issues form the meta-narrative in Haryana, but urban degradation should not be overlooked. Psephologists are predicting a landslide victory for the Congress party in Haryana, but this majority cannot be achieved if urban Haryana continues its convention of being committed to the BJP. For both the parties, it is a battle to snatch away the traditional voter pie from either side – be it caste calculations or the rural-urban political divide.

A deeper look on how ‘One Nation, One Election’ is an affront to Federalism

The proposal of ‘One Nation, One Election’ (ONOE), approved recently by the Union Cabinet raises important questions on the encroachment on India’s federal polity. There is a reason why our Constitution makers had enlisted some separate powers to the states under the seventh schedule. ONOE virtually disregards these powers, proposes the hegemony of the Union, destroys the gains made in our evolving federalism over recent decades and brazenly violates Article 1 of the Constitution which states “India, that is, Bharat, is a Union of States”. It also disenfranchises our local self-government structure, formed by the 73rd and 74th Amendments, at its adolescent stage, reverses the limited gains made and snatches their voice.

The Constitution of India adopted a unique model of ‘federalism’, often referred to as ‘centralised federalism’ has uniquely evolved over the past seven decades, deepening democracy. Initially, India had a two-tier government, but since the 90s, a three-tier system has been in place, incorporating local self-government through Urban Local Bodies and Panchayats. The report on ONOE presses on the need for synchronization of all elections – State, Municipal, and Panchayats with the Lok Sabha elections. The suggested two-phase approach involves simultaneous elections for the House of People and State Legislative Assemblies, followed by Municipalities and Panchayats elections within 100 days. This is a disaster in making for India’s Federalism, which has been strengthened over the years.

According to the Association of Democratic Reforms (ADR), simultaneous elections for State Assemblies and the Lok Sabha have resulted in similar voting patterns, with major parties polling almost identical proportions of votes in 24 out of 31 instances since 1989. This suggests that the dominant national party at the Union level has an advantage in state elections as well. This highlights the potential influence of national parties on state-level elections when held concurrently with Lok Sabha elections.

Apart from these, there are two fresh reasons, based on the published HLC report, which points out that the federal spirit of our democratic process would be eclipsed.

First, it has a risk of making the State and local elections irrelevant, for national issues will tend to crowd out regional and local issues. Important issues in Assembly Elections gain national focus, through relentless media coverage, which gives the requisite perspective to people residing in other non-election-going states, about important regional issues, which may be similar to the issues in their own states. For instance, it is widely analysed that the Maratha agitation in Maharashtra for reservation is similar to the Patidar agitation for the same in Gujarat, and vice versa. Another instance is the Mhadei river conflict between Goa and Karnataka, which is played out in both states to varying degrees during state elections. Imagine, if these local issues are pushed to the periphery, by the high-decibel national issues, due to ONOE – who will lose out? The states.

And what would be the nature of discourse for the Municipal and Panchayat elections, if they are held simultaneously? No one will even speak about garbage disposal, pot-hole free roads or clean water! ONOE shall eventually also subsume the special Constitutional provisions of Autonomous Hill Development Councils/Development Councils in the Himalayan region states and the Northeast. This would be a travesty of decentralization.

Instead of putting the onus on the Prime Minister and the Union Council of Ministers who have started this new convention of vigorously campaigning in the state elections, thereby voluntarily losing time in developmental decision-making, the ONOE proposal sought to penalize the state government, regional parties and smaller local parties for they will be overshadowed by the high voltage national campaign.
Second, the HLC report proposes that in case a government is dissolved before completing its full term, a mid-term election should be held to establish a new government that will only serve for the remainder of the original term, not a full five-year term. This would often apply to states, which implies that the state will have to suffer the consequences simply because the Union wants a synchronized election. Moreover, it defeats the primary argument by the supporters of ONOE, that there would be lesser elections. We have witnessed in the recent past how the ruling party in the Union has used the lure of power, money, and threats of central investigative agencies to form their governments through the backdoor by dividing parties, particularly regional parties. Instead of reforming the Anti-Defection Law, of 1985, the ruling party is hell-bent on creating more such avenues to usurp power from a regional party, so that there is no mid-term election for a shorter period of term, in the state.

It is high time that our polity understands the depth and gravity of the ONOE proposal and rejects it to save the voice of India’s unique federal matrix.

Rachit Seth is the founder of ‘Policy Briefcase’. The views expressed are personal. He tweets at @rachitseth.

Budget will show if BJP has entirely embraced welfare politics

The July 23 Budget speech will be a litmus test on whether the BJP will change its policy at the Centre as well or will it take the requisite road to reform and fiscal consolidation

The diminished political capital of the Bharatiya Janta Party (BJP), after the Lok Sabha elections has forced it to tone down its rhetoric on the ‘freebie culture’ aka revdi, as infamously christened by Prime Minister Narendra Modi. Will the forthcoming Union Budget 2024-2025 reflect that policy change, just like it was visible in the recent announcements by its coalition government in Maharashtra, or will the National Democratic Alliance (NDA) government resist the temptation to splurge? Will it bite the welfare bullet, or will the government at the Centre open the floodgates to keep its allies — the Telugu Desam Party (TDP) and the Janata Dal (United) (JD(U)) — happy?

Both 2024 and 2025 are crucial election years. There are four Assembly elections in 2024 — Maharashtra, Haryana, Jharkhand and Jammu and Kashmir, and all are critical for the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). Then there are elections in Bihar and Delhi,in which the BJP fancies its chances to have a serious claim to power.

The Lok Sabha election results have forced the BJP to adopt an attitude towards welfare spending which is more akin to that of the Congress. Given that the five NYAY-25 guarantee agenda of the Congress gained some traction among certain sections like the youth, farmers, and women, the BJP-ruled states have unveiled a series of welfare measures aimed at wooing the voters ahead of the crucial Assembly polls.

The Maharashtra government announced a monthly allowance of ₹1,500 for women and three free cooking gas cylinders for poor households, among other benefits. Madhya Pradesh introduced a Budget that promises increased spending on agriculture, free hearse services for poor families, and increased funding for cow sheds. Similarly, Rajasthan’s BJP government increased the annual PM-KISAN disbursement to ₹8,000, benefiting nearly 7 million farmers. Haryana’s BJP government announced free bus rides for the poor, plots for backward communities, and special recruitment drives. This is in direct contravention to Modi’s repeated opposition to the ‘Revdi’ culture!

The July 23 Budget speech will be a litmus test on whether the BJP will change its policy at the Centre as well or will it take the requisite road to reform and fiscal consolidation.A snapshot of the spending on central schemes pegs spending that could be termed as ‘revdi’ at ₹5.8 lakh-crore or 12% of the total spending. This includes — ₹2 lakh-crore on food subsidy and free food grains transfer to 800 million beneficiaries, ₹ 60,000 crore on PM Kisan Samman Nidhi, ₹1,64,000 crore on fertiliser subsidy, and ₹ 75,021 crore on the newly announced PM Surya Ghar Muft Bijli Yojana, among other smaller schemes such as LED bulb distribution, income support scheme to farmers through cash transfers, and LPG subsidy (reduced price of domestic LPG cylinder few months before the elections).

The fact remains that the June 4 results were a resounding rebuke to the BJP policies which deepened economic inequality. It was a clear rejection of the manner of governance that sought to centralise, control, bulldoze, and even impinge upon the ethos of the Constitution.

Economics and politics cannot be seen in isolation. When the Congress promised ‘guarantees’ such as cash assistance, free LPG cylinders, and free bus rides for women ahead during the Karnataka elections, Modi said, “A country cannot be run like this…revdi culture is essentially eating away the resources of future generations. The BJP thinks for the next 25 years and doesn’t take shortcuts.”

Even before the Karnataka elections got over, in March, the Congress announced Rs 1,500 cash transfer for poor women in Madhya Pradesh. Following this the BJP government in the state also announced the same in June. But since the BJP was in power, its Ladli Behna Yojana could be implemented, which resulted in the BJP retaining power in the state, and the scheme being credited for its return. Similarly, in the Chhattisgarh and Rajasthan elections, the BJP was for forced to announce LPG cylinders for Rs 500, and financial assistance to married women and landless agricultural labourers. Now the announcements in Maharashtra and Haryana, and the adoption of this ‘Congress model’ have dented Modi’s claims of not taking shortcuts.

For the Union Budget, Modi will try to project that his government, albeit now a coalition, is following ‘business as usual’; that it is reform-oriented and works on fiscal prudence.
The only window of opportunity for large-scale spending would be the augmented dividends of ₹2.11 lakh-crore provided by the Reserve Bank of India (RBI). But the demands for special status and targeted packages by the TDP and the JD(U), along with the electoral pressure to provide aid to farmers, may puncture BJP’s economic conservatism.

The fact is, no government in India, can indulge in ignoring welfare programmes enshrined in the Constitution, as part of the Direct Principles of State Policy. The BJP has started a course correction in following the path of welfarism as seen in several BJP-ruled states. The Union Budget will show if the party has adopted the same stance at the national level.

A yawning gap between private sector hiring and government’s employment targets

Do the schemes proposed in the Budget pass the litmus test of sound policymaking, beneficial for both the private sector and our youth?

Apprenticeship and skill training, not mere internships, can solve part of the job crisis staring India. We require a generation of workforce with a particular usable skill set for the private sector to boost value addition. We have too many students in degree programmes that do not lead to marketable skills that can be useful for any business.

The Union Budget 2024-2025 proposes five ’employment-linked incentive’ schemes for the private sector, aiming to create 4.1 crore jobs. The reality, however, is that most of these schemes are internship programmes, which even on paper look like exploratory experiences enhancing academic learning, rather than any long-term apprenticeship, which is on-the-job training, resulting in higher skills, better pay and long-term economic security. These piecemeal interventions may not benefit the private sector, including manufacturing and services.

Do the schemes proposed in the Budget pass the litmus test of sound policymaking, beneficial for both the private sector and our youth? Take, for instance, the scheme ‘for providing internship opportunities in 500 top companies to 1 crore youth in 5 years’. The Budget Speech reads that “an internship allowance of Rs 5,000 per month along with a one-time assistance of Rs 6,000 will be provided. Companies will be expected to bear the training cost and 10 per cent of the internship cost from their CSR funds”.

As of FY2023, India’s top BSE 500 companies employ about 67.4 lakh people. The Budget proposes 1 crore interns to be absorbed in these companies in five years. That implies that each company is supposed to hire 4,000 interns per year, which turns out that each company will have a total of 13,480 original employees and 4,000 interns on average. Assuming that before the volunteering for the scheme, the company had some interns as well, the total number of interns in the company would be about 25 per cent of its strength. This is a huge number of interns. Do the companies have the absorption capacity for such a large number, especially when recent data tells us that companies are now averse to taking up interns for odd jobs?

In 2024, according to a Deloitte report, while pre-placement offers saw an annual drop of 26 per cent. Complementing it, campus hiring budgets saw a 33 per cent drop in the past year. This means, the private sector prefers employees with a definite skill set and is not looking for interns or freshers.

India’s seven largest employers, comprising TCS, Infosys, Wipro, HCL Tech, Coal India, State Bank of India, and HDFC Bank, in FY2024, collectively, increased their workforce by a modest 45,000, indicating a relatively slow hiring pace.t’s unlikely that they would consider hiring interns when they are simultaneously laying off experienced employees. Why would the private sector use a centralised government portal, and engage with the State, to hire low-skilled interns? Additionally, the paperwork and compliance of the subsidy payments are also daunting to many. There are three solutions to this problem. First, the long-term solution is to unleash the set of impending reforms in labour, agriculture, finance, manufacturing and green sectors, and restructure State power to foster an environment that encourages private investment in India, unlocking boundless growth opportunities.

Second, implement innovative apprenticeship programmes. To encourage more youth in skill and vocational training, conditional cash transfers in the form of redeemable vouchers are an idea. The government can reimburse anybody who develops a certain skill certified by a relevant assessment agency. This has been rather successfully implemented in Kenya. It is transparent, stops leakages, and encourages meritocracy. It is important to underline that even though 78 per cent of India’s 15,000 ITI’s are owned and managed by the private sector, their seat utilisation rate is just 43 per cent, lower than the government’s 57 per cent.

The third option is for the State to consider, given it is ready to dole out a combined expenditure of Rs 2 lakh-crore for interns and freshers. The current outlay for employee compensation is 12 per cent of the total spending and there are about 49.18 lakh Union government employees, which means that the government spends approximately 11 lakh per annum on each employee. For a government that has been unable to create a conducive environment to increase private investment, and thereby value-added employment, it can easily fill about 18 lakh permanent government jobs with the proposed outlay of Rs 2 lakh-crore.

It is important to note that there are 10 lakh vacancies in the Union government. So, by spending Rs 2 lakh-crore, in five years, 18 lakh government jobs can be created, which includes reserved categories like the SCs, STs, OBCs, and EWS. Where there is a will, there is a way.

‘License Raj’ & ‘Protectionism’
‘License Raj’ & ‘Protectionism’ – How Modi Govt is Failing India’s Manufacturing!

Modi government is hell-bent to adopt protectionism, trade barriers, Licence Raj, import substitution and inward-looking policies, all in the name of promoting manufacturing.

The Modi government’s midnight decision to introduce a Licence for the import of laptops, tablets, personal computers, and servers will not only revive ‘Licence Raj’, but it is also a tacit admission that the PLI Scheme has failed to deliver. It is also an assault on a large number of lower and middle-income consumers, including students, who had taken to digital learning, especially in the post-pandemic era. Digital India will suffer. 

First things first. India needs a vibrant manufacturing sector to thrive. Since 2014, the output of India’s manufacturing sector has dipped from 15% to 13%. Although India stands at sixth position in the global ranking of countries in the manufacturing sector, yet its market share is just 3% of the total manufacturing, while China’s share is about 28%. Even though India’s services sector is its growth engine, in the post-pandemic era, it is imperative for India to fire all its engines of growth. Therefore, manufacturing, agriculture and urbanization cannot be ignored and must be emphasized too. 

However, the question is what is the mechanism to spur the manufacturing sector? Is it protectionism, or it is creating a holistic environment which enables private entities to set up manufacturing units? Access to land, better regulatory clearances, easy compliances, reducing red tape, transparent practices which forgo rent-seeking, access to technology and emphasis on greener and cleaner energy infrastructure could be some of the vital factors to encourage this sector. India does not have a dearth of labour – both skilled and semi-skilled, and a large number of people would be given better opportunities through manufacturing. 

Surprisingly, the Modi government is doing the opposite. It has a two-pronged strategy of crony capitalism and protectionism. No Indian will oppose ‘Aatmnirbhar Bharat’ or ‘Make in India’ – but there is a wide wedge between these high voltage campaigns propagated by the present government and the actual implementation. 

The biggest example of this approach is the apparent failure of the PLI scheme (introduced in 2020) which is targeted at a motley group of 14 sectors, mostly big industries, chosen without any clear criteria, which provides subsidies to finished goods in India. The chosen sectors are big-ticket, large industries that have the potential to crowd out MSMEs. They create lesser jobs than MSMEs. 

Former RBI Governor demonstrated in a recent paper that the PLI Scheme does not add to the manufacturing output. Giving an example of mobile phone exports and imports, Rajan’s paper reflected on how PLI Scheme is only subsidizing the assembling of mobile phones in India, but not the elements used to make it – semiconductors, PCBA, displays, Li-ion batteries, battery chargers, and cameras. 

Is the PLI Scheme a panacea for Indian manufacturing and the creation of jobs? Despite the government’s over-the-top claims, the PLI scheme does not seem to garner the desired results. The PLI scheme provides a subsidy ranging from 4% to 6% on the value of the additional production the investing firms generate. Till March 2023, 733 applications were approved in 14 sectors with an expected investment of Rs 3.65 lakh crore. However, the actual investment of just Rs 62,500 crore has been realized till March 2023. This is just a measly 1.7% of the expected investment under the scheme. It is important to note that the government’s incentive outlay in the form of subsidies and tax incentives is Rs. 1.97 lakh crore for the scheme, which is almost 1% of the GDP. 

In June 2023, the Modi government notified the PLI scheme for IT hardware 2.0 after it was held up for more than two years. The government had to initially scrap the scheme in 2021 after it received no bids from global giants, who had issues with the investment requirements of the scheme. The reason for the introduction of Licences for the import of laptops, tablets, personal computers and servers is that big manufacturing companies like Apple, Samsung, Acer etc. did not show any interest in setting up manufacturing units here in India, using the PLI scheme. 

The Modi government’s trade policy is another problem. It is inward-looking and is based on pre-liberalisation import controls. According to the World Trade Organization’s (WTO) Tariff Profile 2022, India has one of the highest average tariffs of 18.3% in the Asia-Pacific region. 

Successive governments in the past two decades have been following a consistent policy of reducing import duty, but the Modi government in a calibrated departure has changed the policy on its head by hiking tariffs in well over 500 major item categories since 2016. Shockingly, between 2016 and 2022, more than 3,000 tariff increases by the present government have affected 70% of India’s imports. 

High import duties for India also mean a loss of exports by making them uncompetitive. A large portion of India’s exports is contingent on its imports. The long-term impact of introducing trade barriers is inefficiency in domestic manufacturing and lower quality of goods production. 

India has been negotiating several bilateral Free Trade Agreements (FTA) since 2004. In fact, under Dr Manmohan Singh India signed 11 Trade Agreements, but under the Modi government, they have only progressed on trade agreements with Saudi Arabia, U.K and Australia – which are still a work in progress. In 2019, the present government did not enter the multilateral Asian free trade agreement – Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP). 

Protectionism, trade barriers, Licence Raj, import substitution and inward-looking policies have way passed their expiry date. The present government’s departure from a well-established post-liberalisation policy may well be following the post-pandemic global trend, but the sting in the tail is that these polices were started by them well before the pandemic stuck. 

One Nation, One Election
Why One Nation, One Election is the first step to dismantle Federalism.

Not only it is detrimental to the Panchayati Raj system, the argument that it would lead to better governance rings hollow.

Inches and inches of column space have been utilized in newspaper opinion pages on the ongoing debate about ‘One Nation, One Election’. Simultaneous elections to the Union, States, and Local Bodies shall demolish not only federalism but also the very functioning of our Panchayats and Urban Local Bodies (ULBs). It will end whatever basic autonomy and power they possess currently. 

‘One Nation, One Election’ (ONOE) is not only a direct assault on federalism, which is a part of the basic structure (better term is framework!) of the Constitution, but also an instrument to squeeze out the little authority provided to our Panchayats and elected members of the Urban Local Bodies.

The terms and reference of the recent committee formed by the Union Government on ONOE explicitly state that it must “examine and make recommendations for holding simultaneous elections to the House of the People (Lok Sabha), State Legislative Assemblies, Municipalities and Panchayats”.

The last two tiers – Municipalities and Panchayats have been conveniently erased in the present public discourse, even though they may be the key to understanding why simultaneous elections would be detrimental to Parliamentary Democracy. 

India elects 543 Lok Sabha members, more than 4100 MLAs, the MLAs also elect around 245 Rajya Sabha members. More importantly, we elect 89,194 representatives to urban wards and 31.89 lakh elected panchayat representatives spread across three tiers of the Panchayat system – Gram Panchayat, Panchayat Samiti and Zila Parishad. MPs and MLAs together elect the President of India too. 

With ONOE in place, the limited three-tier system, which India has painstakingly developed at the grassroots, would be in jeopardy. A huge number of representatives in this system serve the interests of the people they get elected from, in a highly localized manner. Infact, there is a view in political parlance that Gram Sabha members have more power than MLAs. Take an urban example, for instance, the Municipal Corporation of Delhi has a garbage disposal or parking space as a core issue in its election. People vote for that. But if ONOE takes place, national or state issues will be overarching and the discourse about parking or garbage disposal shall get crowded out.

Similarly, there is enough empirical evidence that Indians vote differently in Assembly Elections and Lok Sabha elections. This is primarily because the issues at the State level are regional and more local – road, water, housing, electricity, law and order, health and education; than the issues at the national level – economy, national security, foreign policy, trade et al. What ONOE aims to do is to encroach on the regional, state-level, localized discourse during an election campaign and consume the voter with these mega issues, thus leaving very little ground for community-level issues to hold water.

There is a reason why political parties prepare State-level manifestos. Those manifestos will now be overshadowed by national-level narratives. If the candidates in Assembly Elections, even if they belong to national parties, want to raise important provincial issues or sub-regional issues, then the national parties would continue to force their ‘nationwide’ uniform agenda down their throats. This is not in the spirit of cooperative federalism or ‘Team India’, which is being propagated by the current regime.

Let it be very clear, the Union holds the states together. No one is saying that national issues are of lesser importance; the issue here is that economic, social, and political issues of states are equally important, for they are the ones who implement most programs and schemes of the Union. 

Supporters of ONOE primarily point out that the mechanism enables the government to concentrate on governance once the elections are over. This is a superficial argument. In a situation, where the voters would hardly know about the localized issues at Panchayat or State level, and would only be forced to form an opinion on national issues, would there be an informed debate on how to solve those local issues? Will they be able to vote on local issues? Once there is no opinion, there wouldn’t be any accountability for implementation. In a vibrant, albeit chaotic Democracy, such as ours, there are ways and means to create debates on local and state issues. If these issues do not get prominence, then whatever leeway the supporters of ONOE imagine, in the case of governance, is hollow.

Voters are the biggest stakeholders in any election. If the voters do not discuss issues, if representatives do not get prominence in highlighting those issues, there wouldn’t be any informed decision-making while casting the vote. Then, one should forget about any accountability from the incumbent at the implementation stage too.  ONOE, therefore, wants to subsume Democracy at the local level with a broad stroke of uniformity. 

Cynics might point out that in India, local elections are hardly issue-based, especially for Panchayats and ULBs. They are mostly dependent on caste combinations, muscle, and money power, or the influence of the ruling party in the State. Let us concede that argument for a moment. Yes, our weakest political unit still remains the Panchayats and ULBs in terms of devolution of power, but that is a function of electoral reforms. ONOE is not the solution to overcome that.

But what about the States? Over the years, India’s federal system has become more decentralised and stronger. There was a time when two-thirds of India’s districts did not even have a proper administration. In the last 25 years, that has considerable changed. Post Liberalisation, there has been a remarkable change in how we govern our states, because now we have more funds, and states now have more to do in terms of welfare-oriented governance. If the devolution of power has taken place from Union to the States, then certainly it can take place, although gradually, from States to the grassroots bodies.

Likewise, recent elections have also seen, caste-based social cleavages being broken because of aspirational politics. A Yadav may or may not vote for a Yadav, and a Kurmi may or may not vote for a party that traditionally represents Kurmis. If that can change, without a uniform, all-encompassing solution like ONOE, then certainly, Indian Democracy is doing something right.

Representative governance has been the soul of Indian Democracy. Mahatma Gandhi spoke about village-level republics which are self-sustainable. Our indigenous experience with the representative government started in the republic (Gad Rajya) of Lichhavi, Kapilvastu, Pava, Kushinara, Ramagrama, Sunsamagiri, Piphali, Suputa, Mithila and Kollanga in the 6th Century BC and continued up till 400 AD in various parts of the country. The Sabhas, Samitis and Ganapati of these republics were the modern-day Parliament, Cabinet and the Prime Minister respectively. It was not some monolithic, singular-power system. It provided a considerable level of autonomy for development activities at the grassroots. 

Sadly, ‘One Nation, One Election’ seeks to dismantle this multiple, but cohesive power structure. We should not let it happen. 

Guarantee for MSP, New Market for Trading: The Way Forward When Farm Bills Come Into Effect
Courtesy: News18
Source: News18dotcom

This piece was first published on News 18 dot com here on September 25, 2020.

What can be done to assuage the fear of farmers with regards to the farm bills?  Policymakers and columnists have reflected on the undemocratic manner in which the two farm bills were passed in the Rajya Sabha, but very few have reflected on what is the way forward if these farm bills are implemented.

As argued in an earlier column here by me, there is no doubt that the agricultural sector needs to be freed in the true sense. We need, not just the removal of ‘Price & Trade Control’ wherein farmers can trade freely in an open market but also removal of ‘Capital Control’ in the form of restrictive ownership, lease and tenancy laws and doing away with the ‘Input Control’ by de-regulating the prices of fertilisers, seeds, subsidy on water and power. All this could have done had the country’s economy was not reeling under the triple assaults of – demonetisation, flawed GST (yes there is GST on many farm equipment and allied parts), and the current COVID-19 pandemic. Right now, the need of the hour is to provide direct income transfer to as many small and marginal farmers as possible.

Critics may argue that better agricultural growth in the first quarter indicates that the sector was not hit by the pandemic, and the angst of the farmers is simply misplaced. They are wrong. First, the growth was driven largely by a bumper Rabi harvest and strong procurement by the government for food grain distribution, but there was hardly any increase in farm incomes. April was the month when the lockdown was partially lifted, but despite muted harvest festivals, farm labourers and farmers alike did not return to their fields. Just to refresh the memory, videos on social media of farmers dumping produce, unable to sell their produce had also emerged around that time. Second, it is being pointed out that the institutional infrastructure was already being build during this phase before the farm reforms ordinances were promulgated in June. This is wrong, there was absolutely no stakeholder consultation with farm bodies or leaders for these reforms. Rather it was conveniently assumed by the government, that since the reforms have been in the policy debate space since decades now, it does not require a fresh stakeholder consultation.

Now that the government has bit the bullet and put a Parliamentary stamp (through a voice vote, of course!) to these bills, there is an urgent need to win the confidence of the primary stakeholder – the farmer. A slew of measures can be adopted before implementation.

Even as policy practitioners in the field, strongly believe that India needs to do away with MSP, it cannot be removed.  Perhaps, the low hanging fruit here is to provide a guarantee for the MSP. The government has done lip-service to that, leading to farmer’s protesting. A ruling dispensation which promised Cost +50% MSP to the farmers and opposed the same in the Supreme Court has very little credibility left. In the hearts and minds of farmers, especially belonging to Haryana, Punjab, Western Uttar Pradesh and Madhya Pradesh – a statutory guarantee of MSP through robust regulations is a need of the hour. If the government can regulate the price of essential medicines through a body, what stops it to ensure MSP.

The answer to the issue of MSP may be again two-pronged. A macro-institutional structure needs to be formed on a priority basis. If the policy-makers are serious to hammer out a solution in a limited period, then it is proposed that an ‘Implementing Agency’ in the form of an Agriculture Reforms Council – Consisting of Agriculture & Finance Ministers of all states on the lines of the GST Council should be established at the earliest. This would reduce the time for a solution to take effect.

The second solution is part of history.

In 2012, the Union Cabinet cleared The Forward Contracts (Regulation) Amendment Bill, 2010, which permitted and regulated a financial instrument which enables buyers and sellers of commodities to effectively manage risk from price fluctuations and opened the door for the introduction of new intangible products like options in the commodities futures market. Unfortunately, the bill lapsed in the Parliament.

A Market for Futures (Forward) Trading of Agricultural Commodities needs to be developed. This would enable the procurement of excess production by both government and private sector alike. It will transform the MSP regime from a ‘committed liability’ of the government to its ‘contingent liabilities’.

This shifts the risk of the government to the more capable commodity markets. Under this regime, the government procures the strategic requirement at MSP and the purchases above this strategic requirement can be conducted by selling ‘put options’ to the farmers. If the prices of the commodity fall below MSP (reflecting strike price in commodity options), farmers or option buyers will sell their produce to government procuring agencies such as FCI at MSP only. But if the market price is above the MSP, farmers will choose to sell directly in the open market and the only loss will be the premium paid by the farmers which can be subsidized by the Government through Direct Benefits Transfers.

Why the Indian Frontier Administrative Service could be a potent force against China

This piece was published on Wion News

India can deal with Chinese expansionism with the Himalayan region only by expeditious infrastructure development at its frontier areas. India has been able to establish political governance at the grassroots level through Hill Development Councils, Panchayats, and a host of ‘packages’ in these areas. But, there is a sense of deep neglect on the implementation front, especially in the context of physical infrastructure needs. A revival of the esteemed Indian Frontier Administrative Service (IFAS) – an experiment done in the 1950-60s will bridge the governance gap in these remote far-flung areas.

The best public policy interventions work on pilot and feedback loops. In this case, we have had a pilot in the IFAS and some key learnings from it. A renewed, reoriented and restructured IFAS dedicated to the Himalayan frontier states in India is the need of the hour. The first step of a good foreign policy measure is to start domestically. And this is what this piece elucidates.

The Indian Frontier Administrative Service (IFAS), a separate cadre created in 1954 to administer the North-East Frontier Agency (NEFA i.e., present-day Arunachal Pradesh and at that time, a part of Assam) was the military-governance mechanism mooted by Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru. It emphasised more on the socio-economic development of the various tribes in the protected region but did not focus on strategic border development. Some historical accounts attribute this deficiency in the said policy to Verrier Elwin, an anthropologist who was appointed as the advisor to the government of Assam. But this may not be entirely true.

 A cursory review of the list of IFAS cadre suggests that most members were either distinguished army officers or belonged to the Indian Foreign Service, the Indian Administrative Service, and the Indian Police Service, rotating between these postings.

NEFA was placed in a special category administered by the Ministry of External Affairs (and post 1965, by Ministry of Home Affairs) through an ‘IFAS’ Secretariat at Shillong, consisting of advisors for finance, tribal and legal affairs. The IFAS cadre mainly functioned as Political Officers (and thereafter as Deputy Commissioners) in charge of a frontier district vested with the powers of a District Magistrate and were the ultimate authority in their district to examine and implement development schemes. All top bureaucratic posts in other North Eastern States like Manipur were also filled by IFAS officers. An interesting Parliamentary answer between Manipur’s stalwart politician, Rishang Keishing and the then Deputy External Affairs Minister alludes to local tribals being preferred in filling the IFAS posts.

One of the most illustrious officers of IFAS was Major Ralengnao (Bob) Khathing. Under whose leadership, two platoons of Assam Rifles took possession of Tawang in February 1951, establishing Indian administrative control in the Bum La area along McMahon Line. This heroic act was enacted without shedding blood, even as China forced Tibet to sign a Seventeen Point Agreement in May 1951 and officially annexe it.

In 1968, the special cadre of IFAS was merged within the Indian Administrative Service. In the present context, the Indian Government can draw many lessons from the IFAS experiment, especially when China has officially transgressed the LAC as many as 2264 times since 2015 and India-China faced a 73-day standoff on Doklam in 2017.

First, for the NEFA tribals, IFAS had a simple policy laid down by Nehru. He avoided the two extremes – “one was to treat them as anthropological specimens for study and the other was to allow them to be engulfed by the masses of Indian humanity”. The could act as a Magna Carta for the newly restructured IFAS too. Since 2019, Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh are now both Union Territories. They are crucial frontier border areas with Pakistan and China, it is imperative that IFAS should be resurrected and expanded for their administration and infrastructural development.

Second, Chief Ministers of Arunachal Pradesh and Mizoram have made calls for a revival of the IFAS, but their plea is more to provide a state-specific cadre than a larger administrative force implementing developmental programmes in the Himalayan region. A set of highly specialised officers, superior in merit and in strategic thinking, would entail that the development of Himalayan frontier regions remain at par with the rest of the country.

Third, presently the Border Roads Organisation (BRO), albeit mainly an infrastructure special purpose vehicle, backed by the army, is used for building strategic roads in the frontier areas. It is not a secret that towns, hamlets and villages in border areas are neglected and often complain of virtually no administration. The political mechanism of Hill Development Councils which was fructified in Leh & Ladakh (and later replicated in North-Eastern states) have become bastions of local political empowerment, but lack robust administrative capacity. They are often marred with leakages and want of strategic planning. Massive packages have been announced, in the name of development by all governments, but they hardly reach the last border village.

Fourth, given that the present government is widening the scope of lateral entries in civil services provides enough ground for ‘specialized’ inclusion in the civil services.

Many would argue that replacing the existing IAS driven cadre stationed in these districts with a rehashed version of the same – The IFAS, would hardly solve any purpose. They are wrong. Looking at the merit, superiority and the military background which the erstwhile IFAS cadre possessed, and their accounts of solid administrative delivery in the difficult terrains, punctures that argument.

National security is closely linked with strategic development, and it is a hope that policymakers realise that.

(Disclaimer: The opinions expressed above are the personal views of the author and do not reflect the views of ZMCL)

Farmers need support before getting free.

Free our farmers. They can help us absorb the impact on COVID- 19. Freeing here means remove the bottlenecks in their supply chain. Yes. The same ‘supply chain’ which the Prime Minister mentioned 9 times in his speech on 12th May. Following it, Finance Minister announced the creation of ‘Rs 1 lakh crore Agri-Infrastructure Fund for farm-gate infrastructure’ and a ‘legal framework’ to amend the Essential Commodities Act and APMC Act. On paper, these are bold steps in the right direction, but in the context of the pandemic, this shall do nothing to alleviate the immediate pain of the farmers.

The present government’s record in reviving the agriculture sector does not instill any confidence. India’s Average Agricultural GDP growth in the period 2004–5 to 2013–14 is 4%. This has plunged to 2.9% from 2014–15 to 2018–19.

Agriculture is the largest private sector but the Government has not let it unshackle its true potential due to enormous controls. This tendency to control agriculture stems through two historical reasons. First, until the Green Revolution made us self-sufficient in grains, India was dependent on foodgrain hand-outs by developed countries. Our farmers battle all kinds of challenges, including drought and monsoon and show a record increase in the food grain production, each year. For cereals, the Minimum Support Price (MSP) is a committed liability of the government to assure the farmers of a remunerative and stable price environment in the “increasing of agricultural production and productivity”.

Second, Remunerative prices to farmers in the political economy of India became an important issue after the 1960s as big farmers became an important political interest group. Farmers used this newfound political power as a tool to seek higher and more stable farm prices through government intervention which made India the second largest food producer in the world. Thus, shedding years of ignominy which India suffered through foodgrain import. Record food production is a matter of pride for us because it comes with a piece of historical baggage. It is the first item which is reflected by the government in any agriculture report.

From the farm to the dinner table, the government virtually controls every aspect of the agriculture sector. There is ‘Capital Control’ in the form of restrictive ownership, lease and tenancy laws. It is virtually impossible for a farmer to sell or rent her land to private people. There is ‘Input Control’ in the form of government regulating the prices of fertilizers, seeds, subsidy on water and power. The GST on farm equipment and allied parts is also a kind of control. Then, there is ‘Price and Trade Control’. The Essential Commodities Act regulates the price of farm produce. The APMC Act facilitates on a broken market system which is monopolistic and rent-seeking, with high commissions, especially for perishables. There are massive trade barriers which impede free trade of India’s farmers with the rest of the world.

Many experts and policymakers who are grounded to the cause of farmers do believe that the opening up of Indian agriculture needs to be gradual and incremental. After all, the sector affects the economic well-being of half the Indian population and provides access to affordable and nutritious food for all Indians. There is a need for a much-balanced approach than just some one-time magic pill of deregulation.

Finance Minister’s announcements are neither sound incremental policy measures to free the farmers nor any reforms by stealth. They are just lip-service, wrapped into a ‘package’ — meant for headlines management.

Several reasons. Agriculture is a State subject. At most the Union can make a ‘Model Law’ for states to adopt. But it is up to the states to adopt it. The Union did this when it passed the ‘Liberalizing Land Lease Markets and implementation of Model Agricultural land Lease Act, 2016’. Very few states, even from the ruling party adopted it. So the measure of removing ‘Capital Control’ was not successful.

Marketing of Agricultural commodities is again a State subject. While announcing that the “Centre will frame a law for adequate choices to a farmer to sell produce at attractive price” and remove the “barriers of free interstate trade”, the Finance Minister failed to emphasize that this will be at best, only a model law for states to adopt. Just like the Land Lease Act.

A second option for the Union would be to take refuge in the ‘Concurrent List’ items which has trade of ‘food stuffs’, ‘raw cotton’, ‘raw jute’ and ‘cattle fodder’ listed in it. For that yet another law needs to be passed using article 301 of the Constitution.

Finance Minister announced that a “facilitative legal framework will be created to enable farmers for engaging with processors, aggregators, large retailers, exporters etc.” On paper, very good. But it is a broad policy announcement with no details, roadmap or institutional framework.

Amidst the pandemic, the Parliament or its Standing Committees are not functioning even through video conference. There is no legislative oversight. No bill has been put forth for public consultation. Bringing ordinances will not serve any purpose here. The government should bring in the entire legal framework in the Monsoon Session of the Parliament. This would not be enough without consulting the states. A knee jerk, policy push without an institutional framework would only end up like the flawed GST regime.

Partial removal of ‘Price & Trade Control’ is only a half-baked measure. An entire architecture of deregulating agriculture needs to be created, with the simultaneous removal of ‘Input Control’ and ‘Capital Control’. This needs huge planning and institutional setup. The e-NAM mandis brought by this government failed because of a lack of planning on the logistical side.

In the COVID-19 crisis, when the economy has become more inward-looking and our farmers need money in their hands for input costs, freeing them partially without adequate support would be a travesty. It is best to first provide them with monetary support and then to usher in these reforms, after creating an institutional framework.