T N Ninan: The AAP phenomenon

The party's drive to become a regional force contrasts with Congress' comfort in being a junior ally

The Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) has completed two years in office in Delhi. Next month, it hopes to do well in the Punjab elections. If some of the polls are to be believed, it may even form the government there. Thinking ahead, the party has already set its sights on Gujarat, where elections are due 10 months hence; with Rajasthan to follow a year later. As in Punjab, AAP will split the non-Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) vote in these western states—and thereby help the BJP do better than it might have done otherwise.

Undaunted, AAP’s one-man high command in the persona of Arvind Kejriwal is set on expanding his party’s footprint beyond the national capital. He may come a cropper, but the determination to build a regional force contrasts with Rahul Gandhi’s willingness to settle for the role of a junior ally in state after state: Bihar, West Bengal and now Uttar Pradesh. If AAP wins in Punjab, it will contrast also with the failure of established satraps to extend their reach beyond their home state, whether Nitish Kumar or Mulayam Singh Yadav, Mayawati or Mamata Banerjee, Sharad Pawar or N Chandrababu Naidu, and of course the Dravida honchos.

AAP is not a party for card-carrying liberals and champions of public interest litigation, who for years have hoped for a non-Congress, non-BJP alternative; indeed, such elements in AAP were thrown out as efficiently as Anna Hazare was sidelined. What is left is a ragtag bunch that has continuously made news for all the wrong reasons: the premature death of its first Delhi government; internal ructions that were pure power-play; the steady stream of arrests of its Delhi legislators (11 at last count, out of 67), on charges varying from assault to fake degrees and attacks on women; and the tendency of its “maximum leader” to be forever combative, overstep the line and invite libel suits.

It should be no surprise that such an outfit’s economic promises should be unabashedly populist (eg. half-priced electricity and free water in Delhi), while its other plank has flowed from its parentage in the India Against Corruption campaign of 2011-12. Its Punjab manifesto (rather, series of manifestos) offers higher salaries, wages and pensions, free laptops and Wi-Fi, Amma-style low-cost meals and free medical care by copying its Delhi patent, mohalla (neighbourhood) clinics. It also offers a special package for Dalits, who account for nearly a third of the state’s voters (a larger chunk than in any other state). In every way possible, the party has kept its focus on the aam aadmi, the common man.

If the party does develop into a regional force, its record in Delhi becomes relevant. Has its government delivered what was promised? Yes and no. AAP has delivered cut-priced power and free, improved water supply (both benefits targeting bottom-of-pyramid consumers), but one wonders about sustainable electricity economics. AAP has had the good sense to devote a large part of its budget to education, and made a difference to Delhi’s government schools. But this is still work in progress; there is a long way to go. AAP also promised a thousand mohalla clinics, but has so far delivered barely a tenth that number, without the full bouquet of promised services and supplies (free, of course). Still, the queues at the clinics underline how they answer a badly felt need; many hundreds more are needed.

Then come the failures. It promised to improve public transport by introducing many thousands of buses, but the city’s bus fleet has only shrunk. While Pune and Ahmedabad run bus rapid transit (BRT) corridors, Delhi has torn up the idea. On providing clean air to the city, it has failed (though, to be fair, the solutions don’t all lie within the state’s domain). As for addressing the needs of slums and unauthorised settlements, there has been little progress. But however imperfect this record, the question is: Would BJP or Congress have done better?