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The courts can hardly be faulted for releasing Sambasiva
Rao and two senior officials of the National Fertilisers
Ltd implicated in the Rs 133-crore urea import scandal on
bail. Having waited in vain for 90 days for the CBI to
file a chargesheet - hardly a difficult proposition in
view of the fact that this is a case of outright fraud -
the courts had no option but to follow the letter of the
law. Curiously, the Government seems completely unfazed.
The CBI director is busy merrily transferring officers
involved in the inquiry, even as he travels to Hong Kong
and Dubai on apparently purposeless missions. There are
widespread allegations of the CBI dragging its feet on
the multi-crore fodder scandal in Bihar. And an
unconcerned Sukh Ram enjoys a glorious summer in
Southend-on-Sea threatening to tell all if the
authorities so much as lift a finger against him. When
the Prime Minister is confronted with the mess, he takes
refuge behind a stock answer: "What to do about it?"
The answer is not as difficult as Deve Gowda imagines.
It consists of a display of one attribute which has been
in remarkable short supply in cases involving corruption:
political will. Of course, the United Front Government
is at the mercy of the Congress for its survival. Of
course, Narasimha Rao has made a habit of threatening to
withdraw support each time the authorities close in on
one more seam involving the previous Government. But it
is an empty threat. The Congress lacks the reassurance
to precipitate a political crisis on the issue of
corruption. It may snarl, but it will not bite. At
least not at the risk of inviting public opprobrium. If
Gowda actually gives the green signal to the authorities
to prosecute the guilty, the Congress will meekly fall in
line. The moral weight of an anti-corruption crusade is
too strong for any party to challenge.
So why does Gowda dither? The answer, it would seem,
lies in the Prime Minister's oft-repeated belief that
there are no saints in politics and that every party has
something to hide. In his own way, Gowda is attempting
to establish a moral equivalence - a cosy club where
politicians wilfully turn a blind eye to each other's
misdemeanours. Regardless of the political sagacity
behind the move to make corruption an accepted fact of
life, the endeavour reeks of cynicism. It forces India
into the status of a banana republic and confers upon
politicians an exceptional privilege: the right to
embezzle the taxpayers' money without fear of
retribution. It reduces politics to the level of
commerce and negates any role for ethics in public life.
In the guise of pragmatism, it institutionalises sleaze.
Rao may be on the verge of earning the dubious
distinction of presiding over the most venal
administration, but Gowda could well end up as the man
who gave it an ideological gloss. That is, unless he
seizes the initiative now.
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