By Lakshmi Chaudhry and Sandip Roy
"Today is a black day in the history of this country. We have seen with our own eyes how democracy could be killed in broad daylight. TV channels were shut off, Lok Sabha live telecast was cut off," declared an impassioned Jaganmohan Reddy. The sentiment was echoed on twitter where many were quick to declare this an instance of jackboot censorship.
The decision to suspend the telecast was not exactly a blow for transparency. But it isn't the end of democracy, either. This isn't exactly the equivalent of Indira Gandhi asking President Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed to declare Emergency. The House Speaker's decision—taken with the assent of Opposition leader Sushma Swaraj—was, at worst, bad politics. A stupid decision that has inflamed an already incendiary situation, and ensured there will be no closure despite the passing of the bill. And made stupider by Lok Sabha TV head to now pretend it was just a technical glitch.
YS Jaganmohan Reddy is detained during a protest dharna in support of united Andhra Pradesh, in New Delhi on Monday. PTI
That said, Indian democracy is still alive and well. And here are 5 reasons why.
One, there was democracy before Lok Sabha TV. Hard as it may be to believe, our democracy was alive and well long before the government decided to create a 24X7 channel to live broadcast the proceedings in Parliament back in 2006. That move toward greater openness was indeed significant. And shutting down Lok Sabha TV would certainly constitute a giant step backwards for Indian democracy. But canceling a single broadcast in the wake of hugely unseemly behaviour in the Lower House is hardly the end of transparency.
Two, Indian democracy has far bigger problems. Jagan Reddy claims today was a black day for our nation, the truth is that there have been far blacker days in the past 5 years. Whether it's Karnataka legislators holed up in the Golden Palms Hotel and Spa in case their chief minister was asked to step up down after a multi-crore mining scam report or lawmakers whiling away their time in assembly watching porn on their mobile phones, the behaviour of our legislators is hardly a glowing testament to the robust health of our politics. Besides, in a country with such a chequered political history, turning off the Lok Sabha television channel for a few hours hardly constitutes "murder". At best, the evening news will suffer for the lack of visuals of bedlam, but our long-suffering democracy has greater crises at hand.
Three, the TV cameras hardly promoted democratic behaviour. Surely one reason for unveiling Lok Sabha TV was the fond hope that our parliamentarians would be on their best behaviour in front of a camera. After all, children may be watching and we do not want impressionable minds to think Parliament was some desi version of Animal House. This hope, unfortunately, has not panned out. TV instead turned parliament into a reality show a la Politicians Gone Wild with our leaders breaking mikes, shredding paper, flinging files. The pepper spray incident was perhaps a greater low for parliamentary democracy than today's suspension of broadcast. The television blackout is obviously a blow to an ideal of transparency but our politicians have demonstrated that being on candid camera does not make them behave any better.
Four, this isn't a blow against democracy but yet another self-goal by the UPA. Reports say Meira Kumar consulted opposition leaders before deciding to turn off the switch. Given L Rajagopal's antics, the shared hope on both sides of the aisle was that the MPs would tone down the camera-hogging histrionics, and actually vote instead. But in the classic UPA style of bungling, the government has now made the inevitably passing of an already contentious bill look like a sinister cover-up.
It's not like the outcome of the bill was ever in doubt. BJP and BSP had declared their support for the creation of Telangana. The angry Andhra MPs knew their drama would not change the final outcome -- which is what made them angrier. But now the Congress has made them free speech, or at least free telecast martyrs. The action only makes the Congress look weak and unable to control its own MPs. Worse, it's allowed its many critics to dub its leader Sonia Gandhi as "worse than Hitler".
Five, let a 1,000 conspiracies bloom. For all the cries of censorship, it isn't as though we won't know what happened in Parliament. What with MPs rushing out to speak to reporters, we had a near blow by blow account -- with or without the cameras. But now everyone who was present can safely offer their very own version of exactly what went down -- without fear of embarrasing video that may prove otherwise. We are now saddled with the parliamentary version of Rashomon, with each protagonist free to offer their very own tale, tall or otherwise. And that's what they will do -- on television, in the newspapers, at political rallies. The bill may have been passed, but by blacking out its passage, UPA has ensured that Telangana will remain forever alive.
There's only one bit of good news in all of this. L Rajagopal has since announced his exit from politics. Maybe those cameras are useful, after all.
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