By turning overnight the Delhi Assembly election into an Arvind Kejriwal versus Kiran Bedi contest, the Bharatiya Janata Party has brought to a head two contrasting, and contending, ideas the Indian middle class has about the country’s future. For long, the two ideas have argued ferociously over the path India should traverse, but in Delhi at least, its people will decide on February 7 who the winner of the debate is.
Both Kejriwal and Bedi share several traits, not least their class and educational backgrounds and stints in government service. But their intense engagement with the anti-corruption movement had them revise their own ideas of political activism, about themselves and their goals. In the process, each began to reflect the two different perceptions the middle class has about itself and its role in the society.
In contrast to the predominant trend in the middle class, both seem to believe that those who are privileged should voluntarily contribute to bettering the society. Kejriwal advocated the use of the Right to Information Act to expose corruption cases and mount pressure on the creaking government machinery to deliver services to the people. Bedi worked for prison reforms and fought the menace of substance abuse. In their separate ways, both stepped out of the middle class cocoon to take on responsibilities beyond their call of duty.
Yet, even at the incipient stage of their activism, you could have predicted that the trajectory they would eventually take would become a study in contrast. The very nature of RTI activism presumes a certain combativeness and daring against the government and its imperious officials. It almost always unsettles the system as it challenges the powerful and the corrupt.
It is not surprising, therefore, that fearlessness and aggression have become the defining aspects of Kejriwal. By contrast, Bedi’s activism was benign and non-confrontationist. She sought to change the system through the top-down model – a sensitive boss creatively working the jail system to ensure it became sensitive to its inmates.
Disillusionment with the system
Their different styles and priorities are mirrored in the timing of their exit from the government service. Kejriwal quit the Indian Revenue Service even though he still had 22 years of service left. Was it because he understood the impossibility of working for change from within the system? Perhaps.
Bedi resigned from the Indian Police Service two years before she was to officially retire and after she was overlooked for the post of Police Commissioner of Delhi. Her faith in the system was arguably more enduring than Kejriwal’s. Disenchantment arising from a personal setback prompted her to reset her priorities. In this sense, Bedi, more than Kejriwal, is the quintessential “insider” who would not be inclined to rocking the system.
Their common class background and activism had Kejriwal and Bedi band together in the team, which triggered the anti-corruption movement. But what pulled them apart were their contrasting ideas about joining politics.
Bedi appeared to subscribe to the dominant middle class view – electoral politics is the preserve of goons and moneybags, it eventually tars those who participate in it, and that conscionable citizens should unite to pressure the government to listen and respond to their demand. Once this goal is realised, citizens should return to their placid cocoon until they have a new cause to feel disenchanted about.
Unlike her, Kejriwal argued that the anti-corruption movement, despite capturing the popular imagination, exposed the limitations of activism – the political class could disdainfully ignore it because it controlled the levers of power and was solely responsible for legislation. Therefore, to achieve its goals, the movement must become a political party and participate in electoral politics to capture power, which would then bestow on it the right to legislate –the surest way of implementing its agenda.
Choosing different enemies
But participation in election was also predicated on spawning a new political culture, both in style and substance, Kejriwal seemed to argue, besides offering a genuine alternative to the mainstream parties. This would, because of the competition from the new formation, compel the entrenched parties – from Congress to BJP to regional outfits – to reform themselves. In this sense, Kejriwal can be said to have broken away from the middle class conservatism about participating directly in electoral politics.
To become a genuine political alternative also implied maintaining equidistance from both the BJP and the Congress. In fact, even before Aam Aadmi Party was born, there had been an intense debate in the anti-corruption movement on the attitude it should adopt towards the political parties. Bedi was keen on exclusively targeting, and weakening, the Congress, which she saw as Enemy No 1.
This was partly because the Congress was in power and also because the scams the movement was raging against mostly had Congress leaders or allies implicated in it. Was it merely a coincidence that Kejriwal and Prashant Bhushan began to disclose scams involving the BJP only after Bedi had begun to distance herself from the anti-corruption movement? Not certain.
Her tilt against the Congress could have been, partly, because its government had overlooked her for the post of Police Commissioner. Her family background may also explain her inclination towards the BJP. Bedi belongs to a family which migrated from Peshawar to Amritsar in the 19th century, amassed properties over the decades, and was engaged in business and philanthropic work. Charity and social work are Bedi’s inheritance too.
In a way, her admiration for the BJP mirrors that of the business class, which had tended to gravitate towards the party, even in those decades during which it was not within smelling distance of power. This class recoils against political radicalism and prefers order, as Bedi seems to.
Shorter route to power
Years ago, she courted controversy by ordering a lathi-charge against lawyers who were protesting against her action of handcuffing a lawyer. She became something of an icon because of the photograph which showed her wielding the baton against a participant in a protest of Sikhs in the Capital. Since those were the days of Sikh militancy, a young Bedi became a celebrity overnight.
From the anti-corruption platform she spoke against the sense of entitlement political dynasts have. Yet, ironically, she has become the beneficiary of what she railed against, summarily projected as the face of the BJP. Hasn’t the BJP handed to her the reins of power as the Congress has to Rahul Gandhi? Not for her the hard work of toiling among the masses. Why did she not join AAP? Was it because she was looking for a shorter, quicker route to power? Obviously.
Then again, in accepting Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s offer to lead the party in Delhi, she has tacitly embraced his model of development, in which the corporate sector not only has a pivotal role but will likely enjoy benefits the state will bestow on it, presumably at the expense of the disempowered and the poor. Her political preference is a logical extension of her business class background.
Bedi is avowedly secular. Yet she swept aside the BJP’s “ghar wapsi” and “love jihad” programmes to join it, hiding behind Modi’s assurances that the divisive communal agenda does not have his endorsement. Through her the BJP hopes to stem the possible desertion of that section of the middle class which is politically conservative and pro-business, but which has become increasingly wary and suspicious of the attempts of its activists to spawn communal tension. Social instability the middle class abhors.
Crossing to the other side
By contrast, Kejriwal entered electoral politics the hard way, building his party from scratch, working in the manner of a grassroots worker, and mingling among the “wretched of the earth”. This explains the increasing consolidation of lower classes in Delhi behind AAP. He has eschewed the temptations to partake of the slush funds big business reserves to bankroll political parties. Both Kejriwal and Bedi spoke from the anti-corruption platform on how the corporate sector has vitiated the democratic process. From this perspective, Bedi has crossed to the other side, grasped the corporate sector’s hand which rocks the cradle of politics.
Kejriwal is no radical Leftist, yet over the last two years he has ideologically tended to move towards the left of centre. He was not the first to reveal the big business-politician nexus, but he has arguably become its most eloquent critic. He has also become the most strident advocate of the state serving the last man, by subsidising power and water charges, keeping low the prices of essential drugs, rooting out petty corruption – small bribes to police and officials to access civic amenities – which does not severely impact the middle class, but does affect those on the lower rungs of the economic ladder.
More pointedly, he has linked sporadic attempts to spark off communal tension in Delhi as an attempt to polarise the poor along religious lines, and has openly thumped the socially divisive agenda of the BJP, including its notion of patriarchy that seeks to control the woman’s body and circumscribe her choices. This is yet another proof of the radicalisation of Kejriwal, who was earlier a tad muted in his criticism of the BJP’s Hindutva ideology.
From whichever perspective you look, Kejriwal represents the liberal ethos of the middle class, its concern for the health of our democracy, its attempt to build a bridge to the poor, the marginalised and the minorities, and, to a substantial degree, its critique of power. Bedi embodies the conservatism of the middle class, its acceptance of state power as it is defined and exercised, and its endorsement of the extant development paradigm.
No doubt, Kejriwal versus Bedi has become the theme of the Delhi Assembly election. But it is a theme which has as its subtext the struggle between the liberal and conservative forces of the middle class.
Ajaz Ashraf is a journalist from Delhi. His novel, The Hour Before Dawn, published by HarperCollins, is available in bookstores.
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Both Kejriwal and Bedi share several traits, not least their class and educational backgrounds and stints in government service. But their intense engagement with the anti-corruption movement had them revise their own ideas of political activism, about themselves and their goals. In the process, each began to reflect the two different perceptions the middle class has about itself and its role in the society.
In contrast to the predominant trend in the middle class, both seem to believe that those who are privileged should voluntarily contribute to bettering the society. Kejriwal advocated the use of the Right to Information Act to expose corruption cases and mount pressure on the creaking government machinery to deliver services to the people. Bedi worked for prison reforms and fought the menace of substance abuse. In their separate ways, both stepped out of the middle class cocoon to take on responsibilities beyond their call of duty.
Yet, even at the incipient stage of their activism, you could have predicted that the trajectory they would eventually take would become a study in contrast. The very nature of RTI activism presumes a certain combativeness and daring against the government and its imperious officials. It almost always unsettles the system as it challenges the powerful and the corrupt.
It is not surprising, therefore, that fearlessness and aggression have become the defining aspects of Kejriwal. By contrast, Bedi’s activism was benign and non-confrontationist. She sought to change the system through the top-down model – a sensitive boss creatively working the jail system to ensure it became sensitive to its inmates.
Disillusionment with the system
Their different styles and priorities are mirrored in the timing of their exit from the government service. Kejriwal quit the Indian Revenue Service even though he still had 22 years of service left. Was it because he understood the impossibility of working for change from within the system? Perhaps.
Bedi resigned from the Indian Police Service two years before she was to officially retire and after she was overlooked for the post of Police Commissioner of Delhi. Her faith in the system was arguably more enduring than Kejriwal’s. Disenchantment arising from a personal setback prompted her to reset her priorities. In this sense, Bedi, more than Kejriwal, is the quintessential “insider” who would not be inclined to rocking the system.
Their common class background and activism had Kejriwal and Bedi band together in the team, which triggered the anti-corruption movement. But what pulled them apart were their contrasting ideas about joining politics.
Bedi appeared to subscribe to the dominant middle class view – electoral politics is the preserve of goons and moneybags, it eventually tars those who participate in it, and that conscionable citizens should unite to pressure the government to listen and respond to their demand. Once this goal is realised, citizens should return to their placid cocoon until they have a new cause to feel disenchanted about.
Unlike her, Kejriwal argued that the anti-corruption movement, despite capturing the popular imagination, exposed the limitations of activism – the political class could disdainfully ignore it because it controlled the levers of power and was solely responsible for legislation. Therefore, to achieve its goals, the movement must become a political party and participate in electoral politics to capture power, which would then bestow on it the right to legislate –the surest way of implementing its agenda.
Choosing different enemies
But participation in election was also predicated on spawning a new political culture, both in style and substance, Kejriwal seemed to argue, besides offering a genuine alternative to the mainstream parties. This would, because of the competition from the new formation, compel the entrenched parties – from Congress to BJP to regional outfits – to reform themselves. In this sense, Kejriwal can be said to have broken away from the middle class conservatism about participating directly in electoral politics.
To become a genuine political alternative also implied maintaining equidistance from both the BJP and the Congress. In fact, even before Aam Aadmi Party was born, there had been an intense debate in the anti-corruption movement on the attitude it should adopt towards the political parties. Bedi was keen on exclusively targeting, and weakening, the Congress, which she saw as Enemy No 1.
This was partly because the Congress was in power and also because the scams the movement was raging against mostly had Congress leaders or allies implicated in it. Was it merely a coincidence that Kejriwal and Prashant Bhushan began to disclose scams involving the BJP only after Bedi had begun to distance herself from the anti-corruption movement? Not certain.
Her tilt against the Congress could have been, partly, because its government had overlooked her for the post of Police Commissioner. Her family background may also explain her inclination towards the BJP. Bedi belongs to a family which migrated from Peshawar to Amritsar in the 19th century, amassed properties over the decades, and was engaged in business and philanthropic work. Charity and social work are Bedi’s inheritance too.
In a way, her admiration for the BJP mirrors that of the business class, which had tended to gravitate towards the party, even in those decades during which it was not within smelling distance of power. This class recoils against political radicalism and prefers order, as Bedi seems to.
Shorter route to power
Years ago, she courted controversy by ordering a lathi-charge against lawyers who were protesting against her action of handcuffing a lawyer. She became something of an icon because of the photograph which showed her wielding the baton against a participant in a protest of Sikhs in the Capital. Since those were the days of Sikh militancy, a young Bedi became a celebrity overnight.
From the anti-corruption platform she spoke against the sense of entitlement political dynasts have. Yet, ironically, she has become the beneficiary of what she railed against, summarily projected as the face of the BJP. Hasn’t the BJP handed to her the reins of power as the Congress has to Rahul Gandhi? Not for her the hard work of toiling among the masses. Why did she not join AAP? Was it because she was looking for a shorter, quicker route to power? Obviously.
Then again, in accepting Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s offer to lead the party in Delhi, she has tacitly embraced his model of development, in which the corporate sector not only has a pivotal role but will likely enjoy benefits the state will bestow on it, presumably at the expense of the disempowered and the poor. Her political preference is a logical extension of her business class background.
Bedi is avowedly secular. Yet she swept aside the BJP’s “ghar wapsi” and “love jihad” programmes to join it, hiding behind Modi’s assurances that the divisive communal agenda does not have his endorsement. Through her the BJP hopes to stem the possible desertion of that section of the middle class which is politically conservative and pro-business, but which has become increasingly wary and suspicious of the attempts of its activists to spawn communal tension. Social instability the middle class abhors.
Crossing to the other side
By contrast, Kejriwal entered electoral politics the hard way, building his party from scratch, working in the manner of a grassroots worker, and mingling among the “wretched of the earth”. This explains the increasing consolidation of lower classes in Delhi behind AAP. He has eschewed the temptations to partake of the slush funds big business reserves to bankroll political parties. Both Kejriwal and Bedi spoke from the anti-corruption platform on how the corporate sector has vitiated the democratic process. From this perspective, Bedi has crossed to the other side, grasped the corporate sector’s hand which rocks the cradle of politics.
Kejriwal is no radical Leftist, yet over the last two years he has ideologically tended to move towards the left of centre. He was not the first to reveal the big business-politician nexus, but he has arguably become its most eloquent critic. He has also become the most strident advocate of the state serving the last man, by subsidising power and water charges, keeping low the prices of essential drugs, rooting out petty corruption – small bribes to police and officials to access civic amenities – which does not severely impact the middle class, but does affect those on the lower rungs of the economic ladder.
More pointedly, he has linked sporadic attempts to spark off communal tension in Delhi as an attempt to polarise the poor along religious lines, and has openly thumped the socially divisive agenda of the BJP, including its notion of patriarchy that seeks to control the woman’s body and circumscribe her choices. This is yet another proof of the radicalisation of Kejriwal, who was earlier a tad muted in his criticism of the BJP’s Hindutva ideology.
From whichever perspective you look, Kejriwal represents the liberal ethos of the middle class, its concern for the health of our democracy, its attempt to build a bridge to the poor, the marginalised and the minorities, and, to a substantial degree, its critique of power. Bedi embodies the conservatism of the middle class, its acceptance of state power as it is defined and exercised, and its endorsement of the extant development paradigm.
No doubt, Kejriwal versus Bedi has become the theme of the Delhi Assembly election. But it is a theme which has as its subtext the struggle between the liberal and conservative forces of the middle class.
Ajaz Ashraf is a journalist from Delhi. His novel, The Hour Before Dawn, published by HarperCollins, is available in bookstores.
