In 1951-52, when India held its first general election on the basis of adult suffrage, the rest of the world was “alarmed” largely because of 85 per cent illiteracy in this country.
In 1951-52, when India held its first general election on the basis of adult suffrage, the rest of the world was “alarmed” largely because of 85 per cent illiteracy in this country. Hadn’t developed democracies taken a very long time to extend the suffrage to women and the working class But “the Biggest Gamble in History”, in Ramachandra Guha’s words, paid off handsomely. The world applauded.
Nearly two-thirds of a century later, it is globally recognised that whatever other flaws the world’s largest democracy may have, Indian elections are not only free and fair but also seen to be so. Unquestionably, the credit for this goes to the Election Commission of India, a constitutional institution whose tireless efforts at improvement and innovation have made our polls both transparent and error-free, despite heavy odds and obstacles. The exciting story of this laudable achievement is told vividly in An Undocumented Wonder by former Chief Election Commissioner, S.Y. Quraishi. In a foreword to it, Gopalkrishan Gandhi has aptly described him as “one of the most remarkable CECs that we have had or are likely to have”.
Remarkably, as an author Quraishi has done as well as he did as the CEC. His narrative is lucid, comprehensive and instructive. The title of the book is borrowed from an unnamed journalist “whose harsh criticism of the ECI turned into admiration when he had a sneak preview of the things the Indian election machine does”.
In his preface to the book, the author fleetingly recounts all the bold and imaginative steps the Election Commission has taken over the years to convert its work “into a religion for ensuring a zero-error election” and adds that “a protective judiciary, an ever alert media and an ever vigilant civil society have made a deviant electoral behaviour so difficult. All of these together ensure (that) Indian elections have come to be viewed widely as the ‘gold standard’, as Hillary Clinton once remarked”. In sharp contrast to the brevity of this paragraph, An Undocumented Wonder is an extensive and thorough book that includes many delightful inside stories. Chapter headings speak for themselves: “Ode to India and her Democracy”; “The Nuts and Bolts of Electoral Operations”; “Inclusive Elections: Reaching the Last Voter” (the Economist reported that in 2009, while 100 million were involved in an election (in several states), the Election Commission was focusing on 12 men trekking 45 km in knee-deep snow to reach two polling stations with 37 voters in Ladakh); “Voter Education: Towards People’s Participation” and so on.
Quraishi has also been both fair and frank about every institution and individual he has discussed. In the chapter on the media and elections, for instance, he is thankful for the media’s help but does not mince words while condemning the curse of “paid news”. He is equally forthright in recording that during the 2009 elections, when law minister Salman Khurshid came up with the “self-serving promise” of nine per cent quota for minorities, “the EC opened up heavy artillery forcing Khurshid to beat a hasty retreat”. Similarly, when Robert Vadra decided to take out a showy motorcycle rally, the EC stopped him in his tracks on the ground that the 100-strong cavalcade of motorcycles he was leading violated the 10-vehicle norm laid down by the EC.
In describing the evolution of the ECI, the author pays the first CEC, Sukumar Sen, high tribute for his contribution in “laying the foundations of a robust election management system (which is) historic though not adequately celebrated”.
As a rookie reporter I had the privilege of interviewing Sen thrice during the first general election. Each time he asked me to meet him at his office at 7 in the morning. He did so because the telegram being the fastest mode of communication then, he and his essential staff assembled at 6 am to reply to all the telegrams received from electoral officers across the country during the night and to issue to them necessary instructions. Technology has since wrought wonders and these form one graphic chapter.
Quraishi goes on with the ECI’s history: “To his credit, it was the rough and ready T.N. Seshan who put the EC on the map. Of course, he spoilt it by his megalomania ” His successor, adds Quraishi, was no less effective in bringing “an errant political class to heel”. The soft-spoken J.M. Lyngdoh was “such a stickler for rules that he moved Gujarat chief minister Narendra Modi to refer to him as James Michael Lyngdoh in a sly reference” to the CEC’s religion.
It is only since 1993 that the ECI has been a three-member body, with the CEC having greater powers and perks than his other two colleagues. Until then the CEC functioned alone, except for a brief period in 1989 when, for the first time, two Election Commissioners were appointed in addition to the upright CEC R.V.S. Peri Sastri. The new duo rubbed a delegation of V.P. Singh’s Janata Dal the wrong way. “The fiery Devi Lal stomped out, thundering, ‘We shall be back in a couple of months and you will be the first to be thrown out’,” Lyngdoh recorded in his book, The Chronicle of an Impossible Election, published in 2004. To this Quraishi adds: “This was the one poll ‘promise’ that was honoured.” Arguably the two most important chapters of An Unrecorded Wonder are “Emerging Concerns in Electoral Reforms” and “Reflections and Afterthoughts.” He has listed the number of electoral reforms necessary for the survival of democracy” that have been pending for decades and to these he has added some more wholesome ones. However, to expect that his advice would be accepted would be a classic case of the “triumph of hope over experience.”
Inder Malhotra is a political commentator and author based in New Delhi
