The Indian economic renaissance has been shaped by the youthful character of its workforce. An overwhelming majority of its population is under the age of 35. But its politicians are largely a gerontocracy.
When Prime Minister Manmohan Singh asserts from time to time that the best is yet to come, the good doctor was not alone in his optimism. The emergence of India as a key protagonist in the global balance of power owes much to the enormous potential of its millions. It is, however, paradoxical, that the Indian political establishment looks like an exclusive pensioners’ club.
Is this widening generational rift bet-ween the citizens and the political class desirable? Earlier this year, Tony Blair relinquished office as prime minister of Britain aged 54, after a decade in power. In contrast, an established Indian politician of the same age will probably be desperately trying to persuade his own party that he is sufficiently mature.
Part of the problem lies in an excessively hierarchical political tradition that treats a supine loyalty as the ultimate virtue. But when patronage is elevated to an organising principle, dynamism and innovation are the likely casualties. Unsurprisingly, in this environment, there is a latent hostility to newcomers.
Very few political grandees have had the grace and dignity to withdraw voluntarily to the backbenches once their prime is over. Retirement does not feature in their political lexicon. Most of them are afflicted by a severe case of the Duracell syndrome: like the well-known battery they firmly believe in going on and on. While this approach might suit an individual’s self-interest it is open to doubt whether this serves the wider national interest.
In this context, the attitude of the main political parties towards fresh talent has been largely apathetic. The current cabinet has the feel of an all-star ensemble from the paleolithic age. Yet this is not to suggest that age is a vice by itself. No government can survive without seasoned voices. And some of the impressive performers of this government have also been its veteran campaigners. But what is evidently missing is a balance between youth and experience. Nor does any party show signs of wanting to correct its composition and leadership.
If the Congress can be chided for its ineffectual effort to promote younger faces, the BJP doesn’t fare much better either. It persists in resisting a generational change of leadership. The leader of the opposition, L K Advani, is 80; his British counterpart David Cameron is almost half his age. Yet many in the party still dream of a Vajpayee-Advani era conveniently forgetting that the two octogenarians do not represent the future anymore. Relying on them is hardly a sound basis to win the hearts and minds of a ‘young India’.
In Britain, even the normally cautious Gordon Brown has demonstrated an admi-rable verve with the composition of his cabinet. At just 42, David Miliband is Britain’s second youngest foreign secretary and talked about as an eventual successor to Brown. Also in the cabinet is his younger brother Ed who at 37 has been entrusted with the task of drafting New Labour’s manifesto. There are others in the cabinet of a similar age bracket.
Given India’s electoral make-up, the absence of young politicians on the front benches is simply incredible. They are patronised, distrusted, relegated to the background and constrained by a milieu that encourages an uncritical deference. The seeds of cynicism are thus slowly sown in them. Unlike the private sector which has evolved considerably, the political culture shows little sign of embracing a necessary change.
All of this also presents a valuable opportunity for political parties. In 2009, when the next general elections are scheduled a significant slice of the electorate will be eligible to vote for the first time. Political parties successful in connecting with the youth will reap the electoral rewards. Merely showcasing tired voices of the past again shall not be enough to win their votes.
When Prime Minister Manmohan Singh asserts from time to time that the best is yet to come, the good doctor was not alone in his optimism. The emergence of India as a key protagonist in the global balance of power owes much to the enormous potential of its millions. It is, however, paradoxical, that the Indian political establishment looks like an exclusive pensioners’ club.
Is this widening generational rift bet-ween the citizens and the political class desirable? Earlier this year, Tony Blair relinquished office as prime minister of Britain aged 54, after a decade in power. In contrast, an established Indian politician of the same age will probably be desperately trying to persuade his own party that he is sufficiently mature.
Part of the problem lies in an excessively hierarchical political tradition that treats a supine loyalty as the ultimate virtue. But when patronage is elevated to an organising principle, dynamism and innovation are the likely casualties. Unsurprisingly, in this environment, there is a latent hostility to newcomers.
Very few political grandees have had the grace and dignity to withdraw voluntarily to the backbenches once their prime is over. Retirement does not feature in their political lexicon. Most of them are afflicted by a severe case of the Duracell syndrome: like the well-known battery they firmly believe in going on and on. While this approach might suit an individual’s self-interest it is open to doubt whether this serves the wider national interest.
In this context, the attitude of the main political parties towards fresh talent has been largely apathetic. The current cabinet has the feel of an all-star ensemble from the paleolithic age. Yet this is not to suggest that age is a vice by itself. No government can survive without seasoned voices. And some of the impressive performers of this government have also been its veteran campaigners. But what is evidently missing is a balance between youth and experience. Nor does any party show signs of wanting to correct its composition and leadership.
If the Congress can be chided for its ineffectual effort to promote younger faces, the BJP doesn’t fare much better either. It persists in resisting a generational change of leadership. The leader of the opposition, L K Advani, is 80; his British counterpart David Cameron is almost half his age. Yet many in the party still dream of a Vajpayee-Advani era conveniently forgetting that the two octogenarians do not represent the future anymore. Relying on them is hardly a sound basis to win the hearts and minds of a ‘young India’.
In Britain, even the normally cautious Gordon Brown has demonstrated an admi-rable verve with the composition of his cabinet. At just 42, David Miliband is Britain’s second youngest foreign secretary and talked about as an eventual successor to Brown. Also in the cabinet is his younger brother Ed who at 37 has been entrusted with the task of drafting New Labour’s manifesto. There are others in the cabinet of a similar age bracket.
Given India’s electoral make-up, the absence of young politicians on the front benches is simply incredible. They are patronised, distrusted, relegated to the background and constrained by a milieu that encourages an uncritical deference. The seeds of cynicism are thus slowly sown in them. Unlike the private sector which has evolved considerably, the political culture shows little sign of embracing a necessary change.
All of this also presents a valuable opportunity for political parties. In 2009, when the next general elections are scheduled a significant slice of the electorate will be eligible to vote for the first time. Political parties successful in connecting with the youth will reap the electoral rewards. Merely showcasing tired voices of the past again shall not be enough to win their votes.