IN CONVERSATION
A bureaucrat and a politician
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Yashwant Sinha on his innings as Finance Minister and his new book. ANJANA RAJAN
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Photo: V. Sudershan
Frank approach: Yashwant Sinha puts forth his side of the story.
Often enough, one or the other of our politicians reminds us how accurate George Bernard Shaw was when he called politics the last refuge of scoundrels. And, regardless of the context in which Shaw used it, the phrase seems tailor-made for India. But
this is just the kind of statement that would hurt the sentiments of Yashwant Sinha. Not just because the former Finance Minister is educated, sophisticated, a former IAS officer and diplomat, but also because, unlike his brethren in the hurly-burly of politics, he does not have a tough hide off which critical remarks bounce like harmless rubber darts. No, Sinha is not your average Indian politician.
“In order to be in politics, you have to develop a thick skin,” he says seated in his little office surrounded by books and plants. “Even today I haven’t developed it. I feel pain if someone levels an allegation against me.”
Motivating factor
No doubt the need to put the record straight was one of the motivating factors behind writing his memoirs, which recently hit the bookshops: Confessions of a Swadeshi Reformer: My Years as Finance Minister. But the book, a Penguin V
iking publication, is saved from being just a partisan account by its academic, almost textbook-like explanations of parliamentary procedures and the principles of economics that go into the making of the annual budget. Then again, it also has its share of piquant commentary — on the unpalatable behaviour of fellow politicians, on his change of party and the opportunities afforded him, which he deals with almost as if talking of any normal job.
“I had to be as candid as possible,” remarks Sinha. “But I couldn’t be totally candid. At places I held back names.” He thought this frank approach was required, since it was the first time a book was coming out of North Block; at least one authored by a former Finance Minister.
Having been a bureaucrat before taking to electoral politics, he has seen the system up close from two important angles. Thus he knows first hand the disadvantages of a system where long-term policies may be irrevocably affected at the drop of a political hat. His career graph as Finance Minister too epitomises this tendency.
“It is happening, fortunately or unfortunately, more at the state level than at the national level,” counters Sinha. He gives an example to bear out his contention. “I personally believe the appetite for economic reforms in India is very limited, but despite that absence of appetite, you will see that government after government, and political formations while in government, have gone ahead with reforms — except the present government, which has halted in its tracks because of the pressure from the Left.”
The ‘swadeshi reformer’ gets into his stride. “We started reforms in 1991 due to compulsions. But we didn’t have such a crisis in Vajpayee’s government. But we were convinced that economic reforms were needed to take the country forward. So I would say that period is distinct from other periods, where reforms didn’t take place, or did under compulsion.”
Budget preparations
Sinha’s descriptions of his motives behind the steps initiated in each of the budgets he prepared between 1998 and 2002 (the 1991 budget could not be presented since the Chandra Shekhar Government fell) carry an enthusiasm that rings with irony today. For example, in the chapter on the budget of 2000-01, he writes, “I prepared my third budget with the avowed objective of putting India on a sustained, equitable and job-creating growth path of seven to eight per cent a year in order to banish poverty within a decade.”
The decade is nearly over, and poverty shows no signs of being banished. The word brings to mind Indira Gandhi’s election campaign declaring “Garibi hatao”. While Sinha agrees these goals have remained merely slogans, he also feels “we must recognise our achievements”. Blaming the earlier license permit quota raj, which “we brick by brick, deliberately created”, and the State controls that hampered economic progress, he points out that now, “We have more wealth to distribute. Poverty levels have come down more sharply.”
Also, the savings rate has gone up. “We are almost on par with Southeast Asia, though not yet with China.” As for fertilizer, power, labour market reforms and telecom, there is still a long way to go.
Half-full glass
He may prefer to see the glass half full, yet he admits, “We have not been able to reach the fruits of growth to the average citizens of this country, especially the poor people living in urban and rural areas. There should be a major debate.”
The suggestion seems a bit of a weak response to six decades of waiting. But his conversation always has a practical side. “The partnership between the Centre and the states to take reforms to these areas has not happened. That is why I’m convinced we need administrative reforms. Like expenditure limitation. We have been talking of inclusive growth, social justice, garibi hatao since the First Plan in 1952.”
To the common man, he too might appear as one who asked for votes only to betray the people. Does it ever make him feel despondent? Does “being blamed” for things that were not his fault ever make him want to walk away from it all?
“I can certainly leave it,” he agrees, and one is almost disappointed at the ruthlessness. “Perhaps each one of us is made differently,” he muses. “We are all constructed differently by God.” To each his own goals. To each his own confessions.
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