A broken political system, a ghost State
India is paying the price for its weak State capacity and neglect of health and education
The devastating second wave of the Covid-19 pandemic has caused an unfortunate and avoidable catastrophe. It is a crisis like no other in living memory. As desperate scenes started beaming on television, and social media platforms were flooded with cries for help, India was forced to face the reality of its broken polity and a ghost State. And let there be no doubt — we, as a polity, have been found wanting when faced with the greatest challenge of our times.
India lacks State capacity to ensure basic law and order and provide public services even in normal times. There are only 139 government employees for every 100,000 people, excluding the railways and postal departments. In contrast, the United States (US), with its “minimum government”, has 668 government employees per 100,000 residents. Most government employees in India work in the railways, postal department, home ministry, and defence, while areas such as health and urban development have what can only be termed skeleton staffing. No one should be surprised that the State melted away when faced with the ferocity of the second wave.
When did we ever invest in health care? The first five-year plan pointed out the lack of medical staff (doctors, radiologists and nurses) as the most critical challenge facing health care. Did we fix it? Despite the massive increase in seats in medical colleges in the last six years, we are still far from it. The apathy to the expansion of educational capacity in the realm of health in India is perplexing.
India got its first National Health Policy only in 1983. The abysmal condition of public hospitals and primary health care centres is well-documented, and experienced by citizens on an everyday basis. Government doctors are poorly paid, burdened with implementing government policies under acute shortage of resources and infrastructure, forced to double up as administrative staff due to the undeclared freeze on hiring in government departments, and treated humiliatingly by the administration. Even political parties that rose to power on the plank of social justice have mostly fared poorly on health and education.
Despite the certainty of the second wave, state governments did little to ensure basic facilities such as oxygen supply or ramp up the creaking health care infrastructure in smaller towns and villages. In its zeal to show that normalcy has returned, the Uttarakhand government irresponsibly allowed the Kumbh Mela. Universities
and educational institutes were asking professors to conduct online classes from the university premises rather than work from home. The judiciary in Uttar Pradesh pushed for panchayat elections in April. The government failed to oppose it vigorously, and the Opposition, too, decried any delay in elections as the “murder of democracy”. In fact, Opposition parties have been rejecting the push for a virtual election campaign since Bihar 2020.
Even till the end of March, it was not uncommon to hear conspiracy theories and the dismissal of the threat of the virus — variously labelled as government-created hype or a grand capitalist conspiracy to restructure wealth distribution and benefit large corporations. In small towns and villages, hardly anyone was wearing masks. Political parties rampantly promoted anti-vaccine sentiments, and many in the 45-plus age group refused to get vaccinated. Marriages were still happening in mid-april in Delhi-national Capital Region, despite the unfolding situation.
Protests led by rich landlords and arhatiyas against the beneficial farm laws continued to block main roads to Delhi, forcing critical oxygen tankers to be rerouted. Farm protests and large meetings in the villages were, clearly, one of the factors behind the spread of new variants in and around Delhi.
The crisis has shown us the reality of what we are — a third world country with delusions of being a vishwaguru and becoming a great power when we do not have oxygen plants even in large hospitals, as oxygensupplier lobbies subvert the decisionmaking process. Several hospital staff colluded in the black marketing of medicines, and manufacturers did not hesitate to flood the market with fake life-saving drugs.
And so here we are today: Where open post-poll violence in Bengal amid a pandemic is called a victory of democracy. Where a chief minister is more interested in spending on advertisements and theatrics than on placing vaccine orders. Where the Opposition is busy creating toolkits of propaganda instead of interrogating the government on legitimate issues, of which there is no dearth. Where vaccine manufacturers are hounded and demonised. Where an eight-month pregnant schoolteacher is denied leave from panchayat election duty and dies.
Where middle-class incomes are severely damaged because of repeated shocks — a wealth shock due to the collapse of real estate after demonetisation; the lockdown-induced job losses and salary cuts in the first wave; and catastrophic health expenditure and loss of lives in the second wave. Where small and medium enterprises and businesses will find it hard to recover for years to come. And where the rich and the powerful, including politicians and bureaucrats, have learnt, for the first time, that they are only as safe as the last person on the street.
It is a moment of reckoning for India. We need to start the painstaking task of building a high-end State with a genuine capacity to govern, protect and serve its people.