IAS interviewees – better off unbeautiful
June 2, 2012 at 10:48 AM | Posted in Bureaucracy, Governance and Sarkar | Leave a commentThe IAS interviews are presently in progress and thereby hangs a tale. The Economist (April 2012) has reported a research study “don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.” It describes research conducted by two Israeli academics who examined the end result of 2500 job applications after sending similar resumes, (one with photo and one without) in response to real-life vacancies.
For women, they found that attractive females were less likely to be offered an interview if the resume had a photograph; also a plain-looking woman would get called far sooner than her attractive rival. First the “dumb blonde” hypotheses was investigated assuming that beautiful women are generally considered brainless. But no correlation was found between perceived intellect and comeliness. In this particular study since those responsible for issuing the interview letters were predominantly women, the inevitable conclusion drawn was that old-fashioned jealousy had led the women screeners to discriminate against pretty aspirants.
I was tempted to probe this a little further for the IAS related “juicy” reason I give at the end of this article. But first let’s also see what another research study “Beautiful people have higher IQs”- has to say – this time investigated by Satoshi Kanazawa at the London School of Economics. Published in 2011 in the Journal Intelligence, the study was conducted on 52,000 individuals from the UK and the US. It strongly suggested that men and women who are physically attractive generally have dramatically higher IQs than their less attractive counterparts!
More specifically, attractive men had IQs which were more than 13 points above the mean and attractive women had IQs which were more than 11 points above the mean.
This news bothered me – having watched all kinds of women in all kinds of managerial positions succeeding occasionally, but mostly failing as their careers were blocked for a variety of reasons. The LSE study made me wonder whether lots of pretty women might indeed have missed the bus despite being more intelligent than their competitors-simply because they were attractive. I also wondered whether the converse could also be true – whether the interview boards in fact preferred ugly women with lower IQs.
Let me come now to the juicy bit – (if the Chief of Army Staff can do it, why not me?) It was some 5 years ago when this unfortunate episode transpired. I instantly took a vow never to join the IAS interview panels set up by the Union Public Service Commission. On that day as a member of the IAS interview board, I was captivated by the charm and quick-wittedness of a cheerful young woman who smiled her way through the interview as she gave articulate, confident responses to most questions asked.
That included “I do not know the answer” which she said with aplomb, adding “what I do know is …” with equal panache. I pencilled 80 per cent for her interview, happy to do justice to a deserving candidate. Her perfect equanimity, bright eyes and fashionable hair cut were unruffled by a volley of technical questions fired at her by the Chairman of the Board, something he had not done to anyone else over the preceding four days.
But imagine my shock when he announced stodgily that she was worth only 47 per cent even before asking the other members what they thought! It was unbelievable! I used all the persuasion at my command arguing why the candidate was really sound material for holding public office- but to no avail. “She was just bubbly and she could not answer my questions,” he said, pushing his spectacles above his forehead with visible annoyance.
“Oh but this interview is not expected to be a test of knowledge”, I persisted. It is to assess the candidate’s overall personality and fitness to join a premier service,” I argued. “I have given her 80 per cent.”
The Chairman looked at the other two advisers. Their pencils were hovering over the single sheet of white sheet of paper we were given. “45 per cent”, they said in predictable unison.
I doubt whether the young lady made it into the IAS which was her first preference. She had been beaten by her beauty and poise – provocative for elderly men accustomed to the behenji look in the women they had known through their own careers. The kati bal appearance and the winsome smile had been this candidate’s undoing; clearly she did not know her place in life and deserved low marks in the interview to unquestionably shear her chances of making it into the IAS!
Recalling my own batch, I remember two oddities perfectly. A woman without much pulchritude (Economist’s long word for beauty) got 96 per cent by singing her way through the IAS interview – an unsurpassed record to this day! Slightly off the point, but in a new-found zeal to put down colonial symbols of public school education, a male candidate with an ICS pedigree who later rose to become Minister Economic in the Indian Embassy at Washington, was given 45 per cent by the same Board!
Is it not time that research was done into the predisposition of UPSC interview boards to plump for certain types of candidates to the exclusion of others?
Citizens’ right to public space
June 2, 2012 at 10:35 AM | Posted in Bureaucracy, Governance and Sarkar | Leave a commentThere’s limit to sacrificing it for personal security
We live in a country which treats public space as charity for its citizens. Most urban areas are overtaken by congestion, pollution and chaos. But the few exceptions still left were the immaculate green spaces of Chandigarh and Delhi celebrated for their elegant tree-lined avenues. Over the years these too have been degraded with tents and porta cabins that house security personnel guarding politicians, judges, the police brass itself and bureaucrats. But recently the High Court of Punjab and Haryana, which has been hearing a PIL, has successfully overseen the removal of a majority of such encumbrances on public space. Unfortunately in Delhi, the phenomenon of security personnel occupying sidewalks meant for pedestrians and cyclists continues, despite numerous solutions having been proposed.
To be fair, let us hear the version of the main protagonist — the security police. Indeed, if there is a threat perception and the individual falls into the XYZ categories the police has no option but to post the posse of policemen outside his house, as prescribed. When the “protectee” (in police parlance) disallows habitation inside the boundary of his bungalow, (notwithstanding a 2-3 acre expanse being available where umpteen personal offices have been built,) the only option available to the security boss is to locate the guards outside the perimeter. And that explains why most options are closed.
Now let us consider it from the point of view of the citizen. In other countries, the man on foot is treated like God. Pedestrian walkways and street furniture are specially designed for smooth, uninterrupted walking. Benches are placed conveniently where one can eat a sandwich or read a book. There are no tents and porta cabins anywhere. That is because the citizens guard their open spaces fiercely and place a high value on easy access to sidewalks. But consider just one sidewalk on Tilak Marg, New Delhi — the address of the Supreme Court of India. It is the main artery for international visitors driving to Rajghat, to the Red Fort and Jama Masjid. A third of Delhi’s population destined for ITO and old Delhi drive through Tilak Marg. Even so, for the last 20 years a porta cabin with its line of washed underwear strung between two trees is one of the sights on view.
Certainly it is not the fault of the five police personnel who have no option but to eat, sleep, bathe and wash their clothes on the sidewalk of Tilak Marg dressed or undressed. With temperatures soaring beyond 43 degrees Celsius, it must be a torture. When asked why the ‘protectee’ could not be relocated in a gated complex with adequate space for security guards, a senior police friend said, “None of them will agree to move to such complexes. And should there be a terror attack, the sentry on duty will shout and four men will immediately leap in and crush the intruder.”
A former police commissioner of Delhi, Mr T R Kakkar, was fortunately more realistic. “It is possible to house security guards within the nearest police station. The police stations in the NDMC area have the space. One sentry could be stationed for two hours at a time with modern communication systems to alert the security guards at the police station. Where foliage is not a problem CCTV cameras can be used. PCR patrolling can do the rest. It would be a boon for the boys.”
Security obstacles also include the stacks of unsightly sand bags that have sprung up all over Delhi. Roosevelt House (American Embassy) is one of the most emblematic buildings in Delhi’s diplomatic enclave surrounded by tree-lined streets. But every nook and corner is dotted with ugly sand bags intended to protect the security personnel as they fight picketers and terrorists. In other countries they use barricades and stainless steel bollards which move up and down to prevent vehicles from gaining entry until screened. Setting up such bollards might be a better answer than stacking heaps of sand bags to conduct warfare.
The good news reported by police friends is that the majority of the people who once refused security guards inside the perimeter of their houses have begun co-operating — at last. The second good news is that the NDMC is not permitting new security structures on their roads. The third good news is that the number of non-entitled persons who had earlier grabbed security cover has declined considerably; not comparable perhaps to the Punjab government which has slashed security cover from several entrenched hangers-on.
The bad news at least for Delhi is that the quest for personal security is no longer confined to police protection. Porta cabins stand outside most homes in South Delhi blocking footpaths and forcing the elderly and children to walk on the main road. While many private security guards gamble, drink, smoke and play cards, their presence has become indispensable. But when residents engage private security not just to guard the house but to pilot their masters much like ‘Z’ category security guards it becomes cause for concern. The SUV carcade flashing a string of lights (strictly prohibited under the Motor Vehicles Act) zoom through the colony creating a huge ruckus. The accompanying security guards wearing black bandanas have barred residents from entering their own apartments. Such was their hooliganism that an aggrieved resident of Delhi’s prestigious Defence Colony approached Delhi’s Public Grievance Commission to intercede. He received the commission’s support but if this is the shape that private security takes, citizens have a brand new problem on their hands.
In a democracy, of all freedoms, the freedom to move without hindrance in public and private space is among the most highly regarded. Public order is critical for stability but in the zeal to maintain public order those in authority must strike a balance between individual security on the one hand and important public freedoms on the other. Citizens have a right to determine acceptable levels to which their rights should be sacrificed in the name of personal security. It is time all agencies put their heads together to ensure that the citizens’ interest remained uppermost.n
Loreto Convent Tara Hall Revisited
June 2, 2012 at 10:27 AM | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a commentTags: Loreto Convent Tara Hall
In 1955 I was admitted into one of the most elite boarding schools for girls in India- Tara Hall in Simla. (I just cannot say Shimla.) The six years that followed turned out to be among the most impressionable ones of my life. As I revisited the school recently I recount my memories and feelings.
Loreto Convent, Tara Hall belongs to the worldwide Loreto family founded in the 16th century by an English woman Mary Ward. The Loreto Sisters came to Simla in 1895 responding to a request to establish a girls’ school in the British summer capital. After a long search the nuns selected a perfect plateau on the edge of the town overlooking the Himalayan mountain ranges. Nine years later the first pupils were admitted into a school whose guiding principle has not changed: “women should find their rightful place in society by learning to reflect, to show discernment and to make correct choices.” Tara Hall is one of 15 Loreto schools in India that share this vision.
I can never forget Tara Hall’s grey and scarlet building set off by a lush green lawn. Enormous glass windows sparkled across the valley to the opposite hills-a flawless picture even today. Walking down the driveway after 58 years I felt a lump in my throat. Here I was facing the school building making my way to what was once the school parlour. I missed the gleaming brass pot holders with cascades of green asparagus inviting visitors to step within the graceful arches. Iron grills had closed those handsome arches; what was once a polished drawing room with pictures of the sacred heart and the Virgin Mary smiling down, was now locked from sight. It was there Mother Superior regularly met visiting parents to share nuggets of information about their daughter’s progress- always measured by goodness and talent and never by marks. Being the only ‘government servant’s’ child I knew I was different in some way but at 10 it was not possible to recognize why that was so. Tara Hall did not teach the vast difference between the upper and the middle class.
The 80 girls that constituted the whole school from kindergarten to senior Cambridge lived together for nine months of the year, studying, learning to play netball and badminton, practising to sing the operas of Schubert and perform in the plays of Shakespeare and Moliere. Eight of us shared a table in the refectory where we ate breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner day after day, like a family. Mealtimes were watched over by the Mistress of schools — Mother Patrick, who she sat all through each meal on a solitary high table, her Irish eyes observing and correcting broken table manners — talking with one’s mouth full; stretching for the bread instead of requesting for it to be passed; clattering the cutlery and talking noisily. It was there that I learned to eat mangoes with a spoon and bananas with a fork! It was there that I saw a large tin of cheese which lasted a month in my parent’s frugal Maharashtrian home, devoured by eight hungry girls in less time than it took to butter one slice of bread.
Not until I was much older did titles, flags, palaces, Rolls Royce’s and Bentleys mean anything to me. The daughters of the Maharaja of Patiala , and the Rajas of Faridkot and Jubbal received the same princely sum of Rs 8 a month as pocket money as I did. We wore “coloured clothes” only twice in the year and otherwise dressed in the same uniform, spending each day as ordained by the nuns – regularly attending Sunday Mass and singing hymns at evening rosary with fervour. The granddaughter of Mohan Singh Oberoi who founded the Oberoi Empire occupied the cubicle next to mine and I watched her rapped on the knuckles with a ruler for pinching my share of apricots. Eight daughters of the Thai royal family were regularly pulled up for chattering in Thai and not learning to mix with the rest.
During this visit to Tara hall nearly six decades after I left school, I felt saddened by many things-unavoidable in their own place. The once spotless dormitories with their cream coloured casement curtains and perfectly made beds had been replaced with overcrowded desks. I opened the door of one particular dormitory and memories of a midnight feast that my class had organised, flooded back. Of course the nuns were smart enough to catch us and that was sadly before we could get our hands on the patties and cakes we had spent our entire savings on. It was the biggest disgrace the school had seen. Were it not for Bijou Patnaik’s daughter Gita, some four years older than us congratulating us for this midnight foray, we might never have been able to lift our chins again. Nothing was more humiliating than listening to the harangue of two red-faced Irish nuns as they berated us in the middle of the night stared at by so many pyjama-clad little girls. And paradoxically for the nuns the biggest sin of all was “they did not even have a knife to cut the fruit bread!” Even midnight feasts according to Tara Hall standards needed cutlery!
On the way to the chapel my eyes brimmed with tears as I got a moment to chat with a 93-year-old nun whom I did not even know when I was in school. Each time I mentioned the name of one of my favourite nuns she smiled and told me, “she was called by God dear.” She helped me (despite an arm in a sling and an unsteady gait supported by an orthopaedic walking stick) to locate the address of a Mother Bernadine who was still alive the best teacher I have ever had.
It was Mother Bernadine who had taught me most things that have stood by me in life: to write English simply – far more effective than long descriptive prose. To “project your voice and keep your eyes on the last row in the audience,” whilst on stage. Under her tutelage I mastered the skills of acting and elocution – “never raise your arms in useless gestures; unless you raise them well above your waist they are pointless.” She forced me to open my mouth wide so that four fingers in a row could stand inside and the sound of the vowel “aaah” could be heard at the end of the hall. She listened again and again to the sound of the ‘t’ and the ‘d’ at the end of every word I spoke, something that set apart good diction from bad.
Was all this important? Yes- because it gave me a head start in life to speak and write fluently and with confidence which marked the difference between a leader and a wallflower. Perfect gait, head held high, and stomach in, had to be learnt the hard way by balancing on 2 inch wide beams, 3 feet from the ground without falling off. I learnt the foxtrot and the samba and to waltz to a perfect finish; also to jive and cha- cha- down the wooden floor- gratuitous skills but they taught mental and physical dexterity as nothing could.
Wasn’t it more important to learn physics and chemistry -which the school hardly taught? How useful was to learn about lumberjacks in Alaska and the Canadian Pacific Railway when there was no mention of Indian history and geography? Not very as knowledge goes. But what I learnt mattered much more in the long run because knowledge could be acquired anytime but the art of learning could only be learnt from good teachers. What Mother Bernadine taught me could never have been imbibed from books.
Most important of all Tara Hall imprinted values on our young minds which unfortunately have become complete anachronisms today. The words of the school song, “high ideals of purity, duty and of truth,” have resonated in my ears throughout life. No one howsoever big could budge me from those principles. And though I was repeatedly ridiculed and asked, “What was the use of you’re joining the IAS?” the values of integrity and duty have anchored my life.
The visit to Tara Hall was lovely but very sad. I missed the nuns that had given me so much affection. As I walked back with tears in my eyes and precious memories in my heart I thanked them for finding the best in each one of us and nurturing talent no one might have detected. Some of the best writers, painters and musicians have been products of Loreto and of Tara Hall. My getting into the IAS was not a matter of luck — the ability to express oneself and to hold one’s own with confidence is what the school taught me — more valuable than all the general knowledge I might have absorbed like a blotting paper and still fumbled in the examination.
I salute the school and the Irish nuns that moulded me to discover myself. And for teaching me to be grateful to the Almighty for whatever he gives.
A better bureaucrat
April 24, 2012 at 10:05 AM | Posted in Bureaucracy, Governance and Sarkar | 1 CommentTags: honest civil servants
Panel Discussion at India International Centre on “Status of Indian Medicine & Folk Healing” on 19th March 2012
April 4, 2012 at 9:57 AM | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a commentWith special reference to the benefits the systems have given to the public.
Brief Background of the Panelists
Ms Shailaja Chandra
Ms Shailaja Chandra is the author of this Status Report which was commissioned by the Department of AYUSH, Government of India in 2010. She was Secretary of the Department of Indian Systems of Medicine & Homeopathy, Ministry of Health &Family Welfare (1999-2002).
Professor Bhushan Patwardhan
Professor Bhushan Patwardhan, Vice Chancellor, Symbiosis International University Pune
Prof. Ram Harsh Singh
Prof. Ram Harsh Singh Emeritus Professor at BHU is a Professor Emeritus in the Faculty of Ayurveda at BHU .
Mr. Darshan Shankar
Mr. Darshan Shankar is currently Chairman Institute of Ayurveda and integrative medicine at FRLHT, Bengaluru,
Dr DBA Narayanan
Dr DBA Narayanan is the Chairman of the Indian Pharmacopoeia Commission’s Crude Drug & Herbal Products Committee.
Dr Madhulika Banerjee
Dr Madhulika Banerjee is a faculty member in the Political Science Department of Delhi University.
STATUS OF INDIAN MEDICINE AND FOLK HEALING
October 13, 2011 at 10:27 AM | Posted in A Report on Indian medicine | Leave a commentTags: Ayurveda, Ayurvedic Medicine, AYUSH, Department of AYUSH, historical developments of Indian medicine, Indian medicine, Status Of Indian Medicine And Folk Healing, Unani medicine
With a focus on benefits that the systems have given to the public
Shailaja Chandra
Former Secretary, Government of India
Ministry of Health & Family Welfare
Department of AYUSH
and
Former Chief Secretary, Government of Delhi
Under the aegis of
Department of Ayurveda, Yoga & Naturopathy,
Unani, Siddha and Homoeopathy (AYUSH)
Ministry of Health & Family Welfare
Government of India
AUGUST 2011
The Failure of Institutional Integrity
March 13, 2011 at 7:19 AM | Posted in Bureaucracy, Governance and Sarkar, Corruption | Leave a commentTags: Central Vigilance Commissioner, P.J. Thomas
The existence of a criminal case against Mr P.J. Thomas, howsoever old, fallacious and motivated, should have been pointed out in writing to the high-powered committee that selected the Central Vigilance Commissioner.
THE Prime Minister and hence the government has accepted responsibility for the wrongful appointment of Mr P.J. Thomas as the Central Vigilance Commissioner (CVC). But that still does not answer why important functionaries did not record the impropriety of selecting him as CVC. Had they done so, the Thomas imbroglio would never have occurred. Suppression of adverse facts would have been unheard of in earlier times.
Institutional integrity requires self policing. There is an informal as well as a formal code of conduct and placing trustworthy and ethical individuals in important positions is the first adage of the informal code of conduct. Documentation is a process and that constitutes the formal code of conduct. Both seem to have been thrown to the winds in the Thomas case.
Consider basic facts about how the jobs in the Central Government are understood. (State Governments follow completely different norms). At the Centre, appointments to top constitutional and statutory posts have invariably been decided at the top, always orally. The decision would be taken at a meeting where the Cabinet Secretary and the Principal Secretary to the Prime Minister would either advice the PM or agree to what he desires to have done. No records are maintained but once the decision is taken, the Secretary in the Department of Personnel is asked to “move the file” adding a suitable panel of names, as part of the process.
At that stage, the Department of Personnel would bring every single adverse fact which would be available to the entire hierarchy of officers in charge of vigilance to the notice of the Secretary, in writing. So if this was not done, someone gave explicit orders not to bring anything on record. Thereby the formal code of conduct which rests on documentation was forsaken.
But even before the Department of Personnel got into its act, the Principal Secretary to the PM and the Cabinet Secretary who have the lineage of every officer on their fingertips would have pointed out the unsuitability of an officer being appointed to a sensitive post. If that were not done it was a neglect of responsibility. In the past, even a whiff of impropriety, just an unsavoury newspaper report unverified and never acted upon was considered sufficient reason to recommend denial of a sensitive posting. Whatever the degree of pressure exercised and whether it emanated from members of the first family, political heavyweights or past benefactors who had to be recompensed, avoiding embarrassment to the government was sacrosanct.
At least on this one score, the informal code of conduct preserved institutional integrity by advising against the selection of an officer against whom an enquiry was pending. And the advice was always accepted no matter which government happened to be in power.
Somewhere during the short-term Prime Ministerships of V.P. Singh, Chandra Shekhar, Deve Gowda and Gujral — each stint lasted around a year or less — performance benchmarks began to be watered down — a trend that continued right up to 2004. Incompetence became acceptable. A penchant for flamboyant lifestyles and hobnobbing with persons having direct business interests, once unacceptable, became commonplace. Even so, the need for vigilance clearance was never lost sight of while appointing individuals to take charge of sensitive assignments. And if there was a problem, the name was simply dropped.
Post-2004 loyalty became a new benchmark for apportioning rewards. But despite this predilection, in the case of sensitive jobs the need for having a record free from any vigilance angle was still not compromised with. In the process, some upright officers got overlooked for important assignments because complaints remained under investigation. But the opposite never happened. A vigilance case flagged the end of the road.
But a little later a new phenomenon emerged — never witnessed in the annals of the civil service at the Centre. Important ministers and coalition partners became increasingly demanding. Unfamiliar with too many people in the Central Government, they pressed to induct those whom they had come to know or those whose work they had liked at an earlier juncture. Increasingly, Indira Gandhi’s strict policy of never posting secretaries who were known to ministers together was thrown to the winds. Instead the selection of secretaries, heads of constitutional authorities and of regulators was seen as largesse to be doled out by individual ministers. Officers responsible for oversight caved in and thereby sent a clear signal to those within the system not to act difficult.
Mr Thomas was empanelled as Secretary to the Central Government, despite a pending criminal case. From being made Parliamentary Affairs Secretary, he was further rewarded by being made Secretary in the Ministry of Telecommunications — a huge promotion. The institutional integrity of following due process collapsed. With that demands for the issue of partisan orders could no longer be resisted.
This new tendency to acquiesce in the proclivities of selected ministers punctured a time-honoured practice – one that was ironically intended to save the government from embarrassment. And despite the system possessing formidable capacity to give sound advice, it was prevented from doing so. The former CVC’s advise to hold the departmental enquiry against Mr Thomas was also ignored. (As to why the CVC suffered from amnesia at a later date is hard to understand.).The existence of a criminal case against Mr Thomas, howsoever old, fallacious and motivated, needed to have been pointed out in writing but it was deliberately not done.
Written clearances are compulsory and have to be obtained from the CVC and the Department of Personnel where the entire dossier of an officer is scrutinised to worm out anything that might cause embarrassment at a future date. No officer would have taken the risk of shilly-shallying from placing integrity-related information on record; because his own neck would be on the chopping block if the matter blew up subsequently.
Given all this, what is intriguing about the Thomas case is that the baggage he carried was deliberately concealed. What are the factors that tied the hands and sealed the lips of those charged with the responsibility of pointing out these things? Was the opportunity to obtain the mandatory clearances deliberately withheld? Why did the Secretary Personnel fail to record what he clearly knew or was he prevented from pointing it out? If so, what threat or inducement was used? Either the file containing the integrity-related information was never sought from the division dealing with vigilance clearances or an adverse note which was submitted was deliberately concealed.
All this needs to be made public because only then would officers understand that it does not pay to suppress inconvenient facts. When the political executive was not prepared to listen, had the senior-most functionaries pointed the facts out in writing, no one could have or would have overruled them. All that might have happened would have been a loss of power and prestige attached to their jobs. But at least the institutional integrity which the Supreme Court referred to would have remained intact instead of being sacrificed at the altar of political expediency.
Census and sensibility
February 13, 2011 at 7:44 PM | Posted in Bureaucracy, Governance and Sarkar, Demography, Fertility, Family planning, Population | Leave a commentTags: census data
In a country with a population of over 1 billion, not even a fraction of people is aware of the gigantic story which the forthcoming census can reveal. For the average Indian, the census is just another event—an eager enumerator’s home visit in February, followed by a flash of newspaper headlines in March.
Although a mind-boggling mass of data is generated by the census, its availability is limited to what the Registrar General of India (RGI) decides to reveal. Even after the data is released at the national level, it takes years for the district data to be published. The release of district data for 2001 came only in 2007. An interesting finding popped up from the data pertaining to Delhi—nearly 40 per cent of the population lived in one room; virtually every household owned a television set but a quarter of the families still had no toilet in their homes. Published six years after the census, no one gave it another glance.
There can be no better tool for meaningful planning than the census. But the delay in the release of disaggregated data causes it to lose relevance. Besides, most officials are ill-equipped to capture and project data that can raise uncomfortable questions. There is, therefore, a pressing need to package the census results in a way that they add meaning and content to planning.
Some nationwide surveys, despite covering not even 1 per cent of what the census encompasses, carry enormous weight because their results are easy to decipher. For instance, the National Family Health Survey [NFHS-3 (2005-06)], providing state-level estimates primarily on women’s health and the District Level Health Survey [DLHS-3 (2007-08)], focusing on women’s reproductive health indicators, are used extensively not just by academics but by health planners, the media and NGOs. Comparative charts and colourful maps are used to flag the high or low rankings on all indicators, making it easy to understand.
The census data is unfortunately difficult to chew and digest and remains coddled in the presentations of research institutions, think tanks and demography seminars. It does not throw up questions, debate or excitement within civil society when it contains information down to every household.
The census exercise is something of a miracle considering the rudimentary set-up of the RGI’s office, which operates from World War II barracks on Mansingh Road in Delhi. But no taxi or scooter driver has ever heard of it.
In countries like the UK, the policy mandates that census data should be accessible and free. There is no such law in India and the RGI’s office sells CDs for 0400 only through designated offices. How much better would it be if they could be distributed across colleges, secondary schools and libraries. A film on national television should broadcast how custom-built maps, graphs and charts can be shaped.
In 2007, the National Population Stabilisation Fund called Jansankhya Sthirata Kosh (JSK) put up PDF maps of every district on the internet, displaying district health facilities superimposed on GIS maps. Overnight, it was possible to see the clustering of primary health centres and sub-centres in different talukas. Even the distance of every village from the nearest health facility could be viewed easily. Based wholly on census data, it was executed with the help of the National Informatics Centre in just four months.
As Prabhat Jha, a leading Canadian public health researcher who works with the RGI’s office, puts it, “The Reserve Bank of India represents India’s monetary policy. The census is no less—it represents India’s central bank for social policy.”
The author was the first executive director of the National Population Stabilisation Fund, Government of India.
Bureaucracy and Society: Challenges of Participatory Democracy in Delhi
January 20, 2011 at 7:44 AM | Posted in Bureaucracy, Governance and Sarkar | Leave a commentTags: Bhagidari, Delhi Right to Information Act 2001
Shailaja Chandra’s PowerPoint presentation on Bureaucracy and Society: Challenges of Participatory Democracy in Centre for the Study of Social Systems, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi
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