Suppose, just suppose, that Sonia Gandhi had said that she wanted both Rahul and Priyanka Gandhi, Robert Vadra and another relative of the Nehru-Gandhis (no, not Varun) to all be accommodated in Manmohan Singh's council of ministers. Imagine what the air waves would have been full of, and what the front pages would have screamed. So why is the same response not there when M. Karunanidhi has the gall to show up in New Delhi and ask for ministerial berths for son Azhagiri, daughter Kanimozhi, grand-nephew Dayanidhi Maran and also Helen Davidson (heard of her)? And not just for them, but also for people who presided over a scandalous performance in the highways and telecom sectors. The closest that any media came near a comment on this extraordinary set of demands was the Indian Express, which bannered the headline: “DMK thinks they are Chennai Super Kings”.
At the same time, Sharad Pawar wanted his daughter, Supriya Sule, a first-term member of the Lok Sabha (she entered the Rajya Sabha a couple of years ago) to be inducted as a minister—without exciting comment in the media. In comparison, the Gandhis shine in their restraint. Sonia Gandhi has stayed away from government office, other than her brief chairing of the National Advisory Council. The Prime Minister wants Rahul Gandhi in his council of ministers, but the 38-year-old wants none of it, he will work for the party. The media keeps asking Priyanka when she will enter politics, and she continues to say that she would prefer not to. Robert Vadra has not spoken in public, except to denounce his relatives for trying to exploit the family connection. And yet, when the media talks of dynastic politics, the focal point is always the Gandhis.
Perhaps that is to be expected, since this is the fifth generation of the family that is now active; by any yardstick, that is an extraordinary record and unparalleled in the history of democracies. But if dynasties are the issue, what about the Thackeray clan in Maharashtra (father, son, estranged nephew and perhaps daughter-in-law), Mulayam Singh and son, Ajit Singh and son (who are second and third generation), Deepinder and Bhupinder Singh Hooda (third and fourth generation, as it happens), and also Ajeya Singh who is VP Singh’s son? Elsewhere, Atal Behari Vajpayee’s niece fought the Lok Sabha elections (and lost), Chandra Babu Naidu is NTR’s son-in-law, Om Prakash Chautala succeeded his father Devi Lal as Haryana chief minister, Naveen Patnaik has inherited Biju’s mantle, Milind and father Murli Deora are both parliamentarians, and Manvendra Singh happens to be Jaswant Singh’s son and Dushyant Singh is the son of Vasundhara Raje (who is second generation herself). The Abdullah family in Jammu & Kashmir is into its third generation, and the PDP in the state is led by a father-daughter duo. Sachin Pilot succeeded father Rajesh, and Jyotiraditya Scindia succeeded Madhav Rao, while Arjun Singh is upset that his progeny did not get the party ticket and wondered about the price of loyalty.
So, is dynastic succession the organising principle in Indian politics? On the evidence, it is hard to argue that it is not. That being the case, why pick on the Gandhis when everyone who can is doing the same thing—including in the world of business? We’ve heard the arguments before: why does a doctor’s son become a doctor, a lawyer’s son a lawyer, and so on? But in the context of the now dead debate on “monopoly houses”, if 20 political families take the place of the 20 business families that once provoked inquiry committees and endless parliamentary time, do we have the privatization—or monopolisation—of Indian politics?
