Why have civilian awards?

The unseemly controversy over the merits or otherwise of awarding the Bharat Ratna, the highest civilian honour, to former Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee and former Bengal Chief Minister Jyoti Basu, has raised afresh the wisdom of having state-sponsored civilian awards. Given the obvious difficulties in judging achievement in fields as subjective as the arts and public service, the room for self-serving lobbying "" as is transparently apparent in the cases of Messrs Vajpayee and Basu "" tends to outweigh any genuine merits that might accrue to some recipients. For instance, Mr Vajpayee and Mr Basu's achievements while holding offices that were essentially political in nature are open to interpretation. Can Mr Vajpayee's handling of the Gujarat riots pass scrutiny, for instance? Was Mr Basu good for West Bengal? Similar questions can be raised about scores of artistes, journalists, academics, industrialists, public servants and non-government organisations (NGOs) that get picked for these awards. Who is to judge that one classical singer is more award-deserving than another, that one economist is superior to others? Conferring such people this nebulous state recognition is ultimately subject to the political establishment that is by no means immune to self-interest. Ultimately, they achieve nothing for the government, since awards are usually a lagging indicator, so to speak, of an achievement or service rendered, and a transitory gain for the recipient. The process is not unlike the strenuous efforts of publicists on behalf of their celebrity clients to get into annual "best-of" lists indulged in by the media.

The idea of civilian honours is a colonial legacy, although it pre-dates imperialism. It grew out of the need of the chronically cash-strapped European monarchies to reward financiers and patrons. Thus, whether it was as Groom of the Royal Chamber, Order of the Garter or a knighthood, the dispensation of civilian awards had its origins in the mutual self-interest of people in the ruling institution and it was broadly recognised as such. Imperalism expanded this institution as colonial governments (notably the British) sought cohesion for their vast and disparate empires. In his brilliant little book Ornamentalism (Allen Lane, 2001), British historian David Cannadine makes the point that "the expansion and codification of the honours system" was an important means by which "the vision of empire was encouraged and promoted so as to make it more coherent and convincing".

Thus the 1860s onwards was a period of "unprecedented honorific inventiveness" that saw, among others, the extension of the Most Distinguished Order of St Michael and St George to include a Companion (CMG), Knight Commander (KCMG) and Knight Grand Cross (GCMG) that was awarded to colonial administrators. It is a measure of the cynicism that grew around these titles that they came to be known as, respectively, Call Me God, Kindly Call Me God and God Calls Me God. In India, the British government instituted the Most Exalted Order of the Star of India (in 1861, just after the mutiny) and the Most Eminent Order of the British Empire (1878, to coincide with Victoria's assumption of the imperial title), among a host of other high-sounding titles. Most of these were given to compradors or, at the very least, locals who furthered the cause of empire.

Ironically, it was the modern world that conferred on state honours the veneer of decorum that is absent from its origins. India set an honourable precedent when it opted to stay within the Commonwealth but not acknowledge the British monarch as its head of state. Abolishing civilian awards would be another productive way of shrugging off a pointless colonial legacy.