Blog Archive - Page 65 of 130 - Accountability Initiative: Responsive Governance

Exploring the ‘symbols’ of Indian Bureaucracy

The Public Administration team at the Accountability Initiative (AI) brings to you a five part blog series that attempts to unpack some of the frequently heard terms and phrases in the middle and lower levels of the bureaucracy in India. Based on the team’s personal experiences, these stories give the readers a peek into the peculiar world of Indian bureaucrats. More importantly, it gives us the opportunity to rethink and question some of the common myths and narratives generally associated with government officials in the country.

Blog 1: The ABCs of Indian Bureaucracy – A Primer

The blog series begins with an introduction to the ‘Administration in Alphabetic Order’. Here the blog lists some of the frequently used terms and phrases spanning the entire English alphabet (A to Z). It then guides the series presenting terms based on the first four alphabets –

A for Authorisation

B for Babu

C for Circular

D for Deadlines

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Blog 2: Of Authorisation Letters, Samosas and Chai

The second blog represents the letter ‘A’ for Authorisation. Here we understand how ‘authorisation’ is perceived in the corridors of Indian bureaucratic offices. We see this through letters of permission, the weight of the signatory and the demeanor of the receiver on viewing the authorisation letter. As a start, it clearly unravels the subtle prerequisites (Letters, Samosas, Chai) that ensure work gets done in a government office.

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Blog 3: B is for Babu

Blog three of the series delicately exposes the world of the ‘babu’ (babudom). It introduces us to the essential employee of any government office without whom no work can get finished. A bulk of the work in any bureaucratic office involves filing, maintaining and transmitting information. It is the ‘babu’ who takes responsibility of this tedious, yet essential task. Despite their importance in the system, a number of issues surround them.

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Blog 4: A Circuitous Journey

The bureaucratic ‘circular’ (usually sent by a higher authority) is vital for most work to get done in a bureaucratic office. This blog discusses the nuanced journey of this circular and the power it can have on driving action and affecting results.

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Blog 5: How Important are Deadlines in the Bureaucracy?

The final blog of the series discusses the peculiar relationship bureaucrats have with the concept of a ‘deadline’. It links with the factors discussed in the previous blogs that drive official work in a government office. Sometimes it is more potent than any other factors even though the bureaucracy is notorious for missing deadlines. What explains this paradox? Why do the factors discussed in this series continue to hold such a sway on the system? This blogs dissects these questions to illustrate how deadlines are important in fixing work priorities as well as the vicious cycle which keeps the narrative of the apathetic bureaucracy alive.

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Incubating and Selling Policy – A Case Study of Demonetisation

Over the last month, the demonetisation saga has been holding centre stage in India. On 8 November, the Prime Minister announced the decision of the government to declare that from that midnight onwards, Rs. 1000 and Rs. 500 currency notes would not be legal tender. The reasons given for this decision were that it would hit terrorist funding and criminal activities such as counterfeiting and that it would directly render valueless the vast stores of cash stashed away as illegally acquired proceeds of corruption, or as tax-unpaid money. While doubts were expressed about whether the move will achieve the intended results, there was no escaping the fact that the move had widespread popular support, particularly amongst the middle class, which saw at last, a redemption of the promise for effective action in this direction.

It was but natural for people to assume that the government was well prepared to handle the massive transitions that would result from this dramatic announcement. After all, all governments deserve the benefit of the doubt for their actions. During the first few days following the announcement, there were some rumblings at the inconvenience caused by it. However, the general mood of the people as they stood in serpentine queues to deposit the high denomination notes that they held, as also to withdraw money in hundred rupee notes and the new denomination of Rs. 2000, was that it was all to be endured in the national interest.

Then, matters bean to unravel.

The first signs that all was not well came about when the new Rs. 2000 notes did not fit into the ATM machines. Then, it was discovered that even when dispensed, these notes were of no use, because of the absence of small change in the form of sufficient numbers of Rs. 100 notes. Instances of deaths of people waiting in queues began to trickle in. Initially, the discordant voices did not find their way into the media; some of them did see sense in the move, whilst others were known to be overtly partial in favour of the government.

However, a month later, it is clear that the move has had unprecedented and adverse repercussions on the economy. Industries are being shut, rural markets have no buyers and agricultural produce is rotting. There is an inestimable opportunity cost in the idle time spent by countless people standing in queues waiting to retrieve their legitimately earned money from the banks. The mountains of black money that were expected to be unearthed have turned out to be molehills and neither have the cupboards of the corrupt burst open, scattering skeletons everywhere. Actions such as a renewed amnesty scheme that allows those who stashed away black money to walk away after paying fifty percent taxes on the declared income – a significant come down from the complete loss that they were to endure if high denomination notes were deemed valueless – do not seem to be effective.

In the meantime, the Prime Minister has changed the narrative by extolling the virtues of a cashless economy. The bureaucracy has been kick started into action, to artificially drive people into preferring cashless transactions over those transacted using currency. This has put the fragile cashless system under strain, leading to breakdown and claims of unreliability. Cash based transactions continue to suffer, because no currency notes of the right denominations are available. As people with no slack to endure even the slightest blip in their economic activity are caught between an inaccessible cashless system and a cash starved market place, their desperation is evident.

In the meantime, politicians of all hues and opponents of the government have been quick to point out happenings that seem to cloud the issue even further; of sudden international remittances of funds a few months before the announcement, of large purchases of land by politicians using hard currency, of illegally stashed away money being returned to banks through ‘money mules’ (those who stand in queues to hand over others money into their accounts for a commission), of companies promoting cash transactions gaining huge market shares; all insinuating that a favoured few had insider knowledge of the impending announcement and had taken advance action to avoid its repercussions or were making windfall profits from business opportunities.

If one were to step back and survey the mayhem, the big picture is that policy making has been hasty and ill thought and there has not been any leisure to seek repentance. The Government is clearly now in panic mode and decisions seem more of the knee jerk reaction type at the moment.

How could this happen?

How are policies actually made in the government? Are there not any safeguards in decision making? If something goes wrong in policy making, who is accountable?

These are questions that will be explored in greater detail, in this new blog series.

The Worrying Status of Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan Implementation in Bihar

Historically, Bihar has been a major centre for learning and education. In recent years however, owing potentially to population explosion and poor governance, the status of education in the state has been steadily deteriorating. A symptom of this is Bihar’s low expenditure on the Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan (SSA) -– the centre’s flagship scheme for elementary education and programmatic vehicle for implementing the Right to Education (RTE) Act of 2009; the state spent Rs. 5,229 crore on the program in 2012-13, which fell to Rs. 4,613 crore in 2013-14 before rising to Rs. 5,913 crore in 2014-15; as a proportion of the total funds that had been approved for the program, these figures stood at 51%, 68% and 76% respectively (SSA portal). The question that arises then is how these numbers impact the implementation of the scheme on the ground.

In order to gauge the impact of these fund flows on public service delivery, the Accountability Initiative (AI) regularly conducts PAISA (Planning, Allocations and Expenditures, Institutions Studies in Accountability) surveys, which track government money to the last mile. As part of the survey for SSA, schools are marked on measures of infrastructure, grant receipts, salary flows, presence and functionality of School Management Committees (SMC), delivery of entitlements – all critical indicators of the scheme’s implementation.

The districts of Purnea and Nalanda in Bihar have been covered by the survey since 2011. Unlike the surveys conducted in 2011 and 2013, the most recent one conducted in December 2015 had a small sample size and was not statistically representative. In the following sections, however, comparisons are made across the 3 survey years in order to establish a comparative picture; these numbers must be studied with this caveat in mind.

The most recent survey found schools to be lacking in critical infrastructure; 53 of the 60 schools surveyed in Nalanda and Purnea (30 in each district) did not have sufficient classrooms. On Right to Education (RTE) indicators such as presence of a boundary wall, playground, toilets and library books as well, the districts performed poorly. Of particular concern was the lack of open and usable toilets, given the current government’s emphasis on sanitation as part of the Swachh Bharat Mission. Though the presence of toilets in the schools surveyed in 2015 was much higher than the district averages for 2011 and 2013, the districts failed in ensuring usability. In Nalanda in December 2015, only 40% of the schools visited had open and usable girls’ toilets, while for the boys this proportion was even lower at 30%. In Purnea, these numbers stood at 60% and 50% respectively.

Schools also receive grants for day to day operations and general maintenance; the School Management Grant (SMG) is meant to be utilised for infrastructure upkeep, while the School Development Grant (SDG) is for school operation and administration. When questioned on these in the most recent PAISA survey, it was found that a little over 3 months before the end of the financial year, only 3% of the schools visited in Nalanda and 23% of those in Purnea had received both grants.

This low rate of receipt may possibly be indicative of a growing problem; the PAISA survey conducted in 2009-10 had found that a majority of the grants in Nalanda had reached schools by the second quarter. In 2012-13 however, over 80% schools in Nalanda received their grants in November. In Purnea too, timing of grants worsened from 2009-10 to 2012-13, with the latter seeing most grants reaching schools in December-January. When a majority of the funds come in during the final quarter, the schools are hard pressed to spend them before the end of the year. Such situations lead to quick and easy expenditure in areas which may not necessarily be of priority to the schools.

In contrast, the state improved when it came to receipt of textbooks and uniforms, as is visible in the table below. These entitlements are critical, as they are a source of supporting student retention in schools. This is of particular importance in a state like Bihar, where student drop outs are extremely high.

In the case of panchayat shikshaks however, who form an overwhelming majority of the teaching cadre in the state, salary flows were found to be extremely problematic. In FY 2015-16, 80% of the shikshaks in the schools visited in Nalanda, and 95% in Purnea, reported a delay in receiving their salaries. Importantly, over 70% of the teachers in Purnea reported delays of over 3 months.

Community participation too remained extremely poor. Of the multiple ways through which the government interacts with schools, a key channel of communication is the SMC. The SMC, which is comprised of parents, teachers and locally elected representatives, is responsible for preparing a school development plan (SDP), which is meant to assist planning at higher levels of government (block and district). Though the PAISA survey conducted in 2013 found SMCs in nearly all the schools surveyed in both districts, only 30% in Nalanda and 24% in Purnea had reported making SDPs at the time. This number did not vary significantly for 2015 sample for Nalanda, where only 37% schools reported making an SDP. The schools visited in Purnea, however, showed considerable change with over 70% schools reporting SDP formation.

These findings are regularly presented to block and district level government officials with the purpose of highlighting the impact of administrative inefficiencies on schools at the ground level, along with discussing potential avenues for action. Though this is a crucial first step in improving service delivery, the process of change can be extremely slow and difficult. As Lant Pritchett very aptly stated in his paper ‘Is India a Flailing State’ (2009) – “India, with its multitude of reform efforts is struggling on the path to reforms that lead to the effective implementation of rules, but they are far from out of the woods.”

Abhishri Aggarwal works with the Public Finance team at AI. Her expertise is in Public Policy and Data Analysis.

How Open is Open Data?

Even as I was reflecting upon the question as to whether data, when put into the hands of people, would actually lead to greater accountability, I got the opportunity to participate in a workshop on open data. One of my professional assignments is to advise a Swiss governmental agency that works on supporting decentralised local governance in the Central, South and South East Asian region.

The LOGIN network comprises of institutions that work on decentralisation, from twelve countries. The workshop on open data, organised by LOGIN in the Philippines brought together several organisations, both from the government and the non-government sectors that worked towards, or extensively used data on government services and activities.

One of the most useful sessions in the workshop was a session conducted by Michael Canares. Miko, as he prefers being called, works with the Open Data Labs, which is a part of the World Wide Web Foundation started by Tim Berners-Lee, the inventor of the World Wide Web. Miko works in Indonesia and has extensive experience in the manners in which governments make data available to people. In his session, titled ‘Making Sense of Open Data’, Miko explained the classification adopted by Tim Berners-Lee to determine whether any data put out in the public domain was really open (Tim has also explained this crisply on the net at the site – here).

Tim describes five stages of openness of government data, as follows:

Stage 1 is where data is put out in any format, but under an open licence that enables it to be copied and reproduced. For example a PDF document fits the bill quite nicely. However, a PDF document does not allow sufficient leeway for readers to extract data, compare with other documents and undertake numerical analysis.

Stage 2 is where data is made available in a structured form that can be manipulated, sliced and diced. For example a table in Excel format would meet the requirements of Stage 2, whereas a jpeg image of the table converted into a PDF file would not. Being a battle scarred veteran of exhaustive searches on the net for government data, I would be very satisfied with that. But is that open enough?

Tim describes Stage 3, where the data can not only be manipulated, but is available on a non-proprietary software. Thus, while a licenced Windows Office suite is necessary to read an uploaded excel file, any open source spreadsheet programme could read a table that is qualified to have reached Stage 3.

Stage 4 is when the data is linkable through URIs, which is expanded as a ‘Uniform Resource Identifier’. While I do not know anything about the technical details, in IT science, URIs enable a greater degree of extraction and analysis than a document containing data that has reached Stage 3.

Stage 5 is the final stage, where documents with URIs are capable of being linked so that different datasets can be used together. Again, I do not know enough of the technical details of how that’s done, but if the government is able to reach that stage, then it can be considered to have achieved the pinnacle of openness in its open data.

How do we fare in India? For that, I checked out the website of my favourite dart board, the website of the Bruhat Bangalore Mahanagara Palika (BBMP), the city government of Bangalore. A quick check reveals that at best, we can conclude that Stage 1 has been reached. Much of the data is in the form of PDF documents, and worse still, PDFs of scanned pictures. Thus the Mayor’s annual budget speech which has reams of material on the projects sanctioned, are in the form of jpegs; data cannot be extracted except by that time worn method, namely, to print out the whole thing and retyping it. The same goes for most circulars and notifications. But why single out the BBMP? The website of the Department of Panchayati Raj is similar. One finds loads of circulars and instructions (the department is fond of directing a lot of things from above – a strange affliction for a department that is supposed to promote democratic decentralisation) but one cannot search through using key words, for instance, because PDFs of images don’t lend themselves to that.

We have a long way to go. What will be required is a whole bunch of nitpickers, who go through government websites systematically, reviewing data put out in accordance with the following parameters, to determine whether it is really open. These parameters are:

Data must be freely accessible; meaning it should not be locked or password protected. It must be reachable easily. Complex or disorganised website architecture detracts a great deal from the intentions of governments to make data open. Ideally, three clicks should get you to where you want to be.
Data should be understandable. Faded documents that require experts in hieroglyphics to make sense of them, even after conversion to PDF, do not constitute open data.
Data must be downloadable and should be retrievable without filing a request. It must be extractable and machine readable. It must be shareable, in the sense that there must not be copyright restrictions on sharing.
Finally, data should be put out by the government proactively, not at the whims of the government, when it deems that it is necessary that data should be shared.

What we don’t really want is for the government to analyse the data. That’s optional, on their part. We, on the outside, will do that.

I hope my old friends in the government read my blogs.

B is for Babu

This is the third blog of a five-part series to unpack the meaning of some of the frequently heard terms and phrases in the Indian bureaucracy.

Encyclopaedia Britannica definition:

Babu: An honorific title bestowed upon native civil servants, particularly the clerical staff, under the British Raj

Bureaucratic translation:

Group C officer who is the lifeline of government offices. Generally considered to be in short supply.

In the colonial days, babus were the anglicised brown sahibs who were in a league of their own, sometimes admired (for their proximity to the Raj, their capacity to affect lives, and their lifestyle) and sometimes despised (for the same reasons as they were admired) by the masses. Post-independence the meaning associated with the term babu gradually shifted as the general perception of the bureaucracy’s functioning came to be associated with decadence and inefficiency in the layperson’s lexicon. But within bureaucratic corridors, no such feeling is attached to the term.

A babudom without babus?

Within the bureaucracy, the babu is a Group C officer which includes mainly the technical, non-technical, and non-gazetted administrative staff. Babus, in fact, are the lifeline of government offices. “Babu ki kami hai!” (there’s a shortage of clerks!) is an all too familiar concern shared by government staff in the mid and lower level offices.

The bulk of work at the mid and lower level offices across departments comprises of processing and maintaining large volumes of data coming from frontline to higher government agencies. And babus are the ones who are responsible for filing, checking, collating, maintaining and transmitting facts, figures and records. Since I’ve heard the same story of clerical staff shortage coming out of seven different states and multiple departments, I am led to believe that this must be a large scale issue in the country.

Once you are in a government office, it is wise to ask around for the Mr/Ms. Know-it-all of the office. There’s almost always that one babu who knows the full story of their office and its workings, and they are also likely to be the most overworked. General respect for her dedication and efficiency comes at a personal cost. Their phone number is on speed-dial of the officer in-charge, and they regularly work over-time. It’s bad enough they have an additional work load on them owing to staff shortage, but they often end up taking on tasks assigned to their (to put it softly) more easy going colleagues.[1]

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Babus in the digital age

Now, one may argue that staff shortage should not be viewed as grave an issue as it appears to sound. We are living in the times of e-offices and ‘Good Governance’ which means the belief is that once offices are fitted with technological apparatus, office efficiency will increase, therefore we would not need as many babus to manually wade through files, scribble away in dusty registers, and engage in other such “dated” practices. Outside of the fact that India has about a fifth as many public servants compared to the US relative to its population, most offices continue to struggle with the “electronic” part of “e-office.” The attachment to the thick cardboard bound sarkaari file continues and does not appear to have significantly weakened with time even though the rhetoric of good governance has permeated. Cabinets and office corners stacked with hardbound folders in government offices are a testament to this abiding love.

Caught in a web

To sum it up, it looks like there may be a large scale shortage of clerical staff in government offices across the country. Those babus who are actually doing their job seem to be overworked as they end up taking on other officers’ responsibilities. Those who take things lightly get to do so because of the lax or skewed accountability structures that are in place. The rhetoric of efficiency/good governance is something that all government officials are well familiar with. But the technological infrastructure, technical know-how, and a culture of working with the new tools is still severely under developed. The babu, therefore, is the work horse of the government office, who works with blinkers on for all the above mentioned reasons.

Another reason why mid and lower level officials function the way they do is due to their fixation with government circulars. At the end of the day, the work of the babus (and their superiors) is driven by orders sent from above in the form of circulars and office orders. Government circulars are to government officials what passages from religious books are to the faithful. And like the religious, the potential to turn fanatical is just as high within the bureaucracy. In her next blog, Taanya will shed light on the power circulars hold over government officials.

[1] For a discussion on the prevailing work culture specific to the education bureaucracy, read the following blog post here.

Vincy Davis works with the Public Administration team at Accountability Initiative. Currently, she is conducting field work for a project which involves analysing the implementation process of key government interventions in education in the NCT of Delhi.

Data, Taxation, Expenditure

Even as I write this blog series on government data transparency, a huge battle rages on the utility or otherwise of the Indian union government’s demonetisation exercise. Without going into the merits or otherwise of this exercise (I have written extensively on social media about that), it is interesting to note that those on both sides of the debate rely on bits and pieces of data that support their conclusions. What is being missed by the supporters is the considerable inconvenience that ordinary people are being put through in order to get their legitimately earned money back. The consequences on economic productivity seem to be too large to be estimated at the moment.

But let us put all that behind our backs to notice one interesting thing about the demonetisation exercise. One of the avowed objectives of this exercise is to eliminate black money; that is, money on which tax ought to be paid, but isn’t. Besides, this move comes closely on the heels of a tortuous negotiation that has led to the introduction of GST in India. If one steps back a bit further, one also notices that State governments have gone in for reforms of their taxation measures too over the last decade, enthusiastically embracing e-governance to attempt to streamline commercial taxes, check posts, VAT and property taxes.

What does all this tell us, from the perspective of administrative process reforms?

It tells me that governments, regardless of their political persuasion, tend to be quite enthusiastic and receptive to e-governance measures in taxation systems. Even the current demonetisation measure, though hasty and badly planned, might have the long term consequence of spurring a larger number of Indians to move to banking transactions, where their financial transactions can be captured through formal and measurable means. It might take a decade or so, but it will happen – at considerable cost and pain, largely suffered by the unbanked poor.

However, there is a flip side to this coin.

Even as governments vigorously put in place inter-operable e-governance systems for the administration of taxation systems, we are beginning to lose sight of how governments spend all this money collected from the people. There is little logical data on that.

What is the kind of data that people require to hold their governments accountable for expenditure of the money collected through taxes?

The first step in the disclosure of data relating to expenditure, is budgetary data. We must know how much is allocated, and for what. We need to get to know enough to compare whether we are spending more money on health than on fly-overs, or more money on education rather than irrigation canals.

Second, we must know whether the moneys allocated are actually released to the agencies of the government concerned, for expenditure. When I say ‘released’, it means that the money actually flows through a supply chain to the expenditure authority, and there are no visible or invisible restrictions that apply on the latter, to incur expenditure. By the way, governments of all hues revel in invisible restrictions. Ask anybody working in any finance department on how they curb expenditure even as they seem to be encouraging it, and all you’ll get in return is an enigmatic smile.

Third, we must know whether we are getting value for money. That means we must know everything about the procurement and implementation process. When was the work undertaken? How long did it take? What was the estimated cost? How much did it eventually cost? What was its quality?

Fourth, we need to know enough to gauge the eventual impact of how our money was spent. The government projected that by implementing an expensive public transportation system, the number of private vehicles on the roads would come down by forty percent. Did that happen? Or were there unintended costs, or benefits? Those sort of questions, need to be answered.

However, the system of providing government data rapidly unravels when it comes to expenditure information. Sadly, the same enthusiasm and attention to detail that is lavished on implementing taxation systems is lacking when it comes to tracking our taxed rupee as it is spent. Yet, there are simple ways in which we could improve data transparency when it comes to tracking trails of expenditure. More of that in my next blog.

A Circuitous Journey

This is the fourth blog of a five-part series to unpack the meaning of some of the frequently heard terms and phrases in the Indian bureaucracy.

Webster Definition:

Circular: A printed notice, order or advertisement given or sent to many people at the same time. In business or politics, used to inform a wide range of recipients of new policies or other important matters.

Bureaucratic Translation:

The all-important, pre-requisite order, mandatory to initiate or allow any kind of bureaucratic action. As critical to a bureaucrat to get things done as ‘Open Sesame’ was to Ali Baba.

There is perhaps nothing more important to the world of babus than that without which, nothing can ever begin. The all-important circular that acts as the official order or notice giving directions regarding any work, discussion, meeting that the bureaucracy undertakes. Much like the Ganesh Vandana (invocation to Ganesha – the Hindu God) that precedes most Hindu pujas as a rite of passage before any work can be initiated, the reciting of the ‘Circular chant’ is essential for the bureaucrat before business can well and truly begin.

This blog focusses on the treacherous journey that a circular makes through various levels in the bureaucratic hierarchy and our experience in trying to navigate every stage.

Stage 1: Where is the circular?

Armed with a plethora of background research and ready set of questions, we walk into a sarkaari office at the scheduled hour (which, if luck permits ends up being the same as the time we meet the officials). What follows is an eloquent explanation of our study (the purpose of our research) which lasts for about fifteen minutes before one is stopped mid-sentence to be asked, “Who sab toh theek hai madam, par circular hai kya aapke paas?” (All that is alright madam, but do you have a circular?). Depending on the seniority, height, and current mood of the official, the inflection of this phrase varies from saccharine sweet to bitter-gourd sour.

The essence of this deep question nonetheless, lies in the implicit understanding that the bureaucracy functions on – without a circular directing them, no study, work or research is worth wasting their time.

In an environment where officials are already inundated with more work than they can cope with, the lack of a circular implies an absence of legitimacy – used both as an escape clause, and a way of discerning the relative importance of the person/task at hand.

The end result of this mid-sentence questioning, if answered in the negative, is usually a polite request to return if and when a circular can be provided.

Often (if one is more fortunate), this is also encased in the form of a sympathy-inducing apology that assures us that we would have been spoken to, if only the official permissions were in order. Nonetheless, the tight-lipped attitude of the bureaucrat to speak about, or even listen to anything beyond his regular routine of work without a circular is indicative of the forced atmosphere of secrecy in which the bureaucracy continues to function even today. This is induced both by fear of repercussions and a tendency to put off tasks for as long as possible.

Stage 2: The circular may have arrived, but has it reached?

The process of obtaining the official stamp of a circular merits a blog post of its own. Suffice to say however; that the levels of hierarchy that one has to navigate in order to get official permissions from one person to the next would make for an epic the size of Odyssey. Months of waiting, repeat visits, mails and sanctions by various departments later, we walk into the office, beaming and armed with a copy of the official ammunition of a circular. Introduction exercise is repeated this time lasting for a good 30 minutes before we are asked, mid-sentence again, “Madam aa toh gaya hoga circular, par upload hua hai kya?” (Madam the circular may have arrived, but has it been uploaded?)

Irrespective of the fact that you may have been carrying a copy of the circular with your name and directions from the highest authorities, this stage represents a classic demonstration of the proverb, “many a slip between the cup and the lip”. At this point, the demeanor of the bureaucrat is visibly softened, given the official sanction presented. However, attempts ranging from those to ascertain the originality of the circular, to questions about the fine print that may need ‘further clarification’ at a ‘higher level’ are characteristic of this phase. This is supplemented by a generous dose of majboori (helplessness) comments regarding their inaction, considering the circular may have been printed, but has not been ‘uploaded’ to the website. The end-result is a politer request to come back when the circular has been clarified better and has ‘reached’ the bureaucrat in his official capacity.

Stage 3: Nearing the finale – but to what end?

The ultimate stage of this journey is represented by a (sometimes grudging) acceptance of the fact that all legalities and formalities are in place, and therefore some amount of time must be allotted to a discussion on the circular. However, this visit represents a conundrum of its own, reflected in the bureaucrat’s inability to decide which circular to follow. “Madam aapka circular toh theek hai, par doosre department ke circular ka kya karun?” (Madam your circular is fine, but what do I do regarding the one belonging to another department?)

As circulars are one of the most widely used sources for information dissemination, this stage represents an oft-encountered problem in the bureaucratic world – the coordination of directives issued in different circulars.

On more than one occasion, there is a genuine concern regarding the mixed messaging passed on to the bureaucrat regarding the same event making it difficult for her to juggle competing conceptions of what is the right course of action.

More complexities include previous orders prohibiting or allowing a certain action; future events that may have to be kept in mind before disclosing any information; and simultaneous guidelines from multiple ministries that are not completely in sync with, or apprised of each other’s’ work.

All this contributes to a confusion even when there is a sincere effort to help on the part of the bureaucrat. In fact, the absence of orders itself is also a source of many misunderstandings, forcing an official to err on the side of caution rather than risk consequences. The end result of this stage is usually a request for time to ensure that all misconceptions regarding ‘interpretation’ can be cleared. It is only when the last hurdle of this stage is crossed that one can truly begin work.

What is it that makes the circular such a revered and feared instrument at the same time? The need for directives and compulsive adherence to rules and regulations, particularly in the written form, is characteristic of babudom in a manner scarcely seen elsewhere. This has become so ingrained in the functioning of the bureaucracy today that actual intentions have ceased to be less important than the symbolism of ensuring that things are in order. Circulars are perhaps the most tangible form of this ‘cultural’ practice. Notwithstanding the fact that that the sheer number of such circulars, their contrasting directives and long-drawn process of issuing are impediments to ensuring the smooth functioning of the bureaucracy; For the bureaucrat, above all, circulars represent the ultimate truth: No circular, No work.

In the next blog, Vincy discusses the more crucial question of what happens once the all-important circular has been issued, the work has begun and the D-Day looms large. Watch out for her blog on how babus deal with dreaded deadlines!

Taanya Kapoor is part of the Public Administration team at Accountability Initiative. Her primary focus is on qualitative research to understand education reforms at the state level.

Of Authorisation Letters, Samosas and Chai

This is the second blog of a five-part series to unpack the meaning of some of the frequently heard terms and phrases in the Indian bureaucracy.

Oxford definition:

Authority: (1) The power or right to give orders, make decisions, and enforce obedience. (2) A person or organisation having political or administrative power and control.

Authorisation: A document giving official permission

Bureaucratic translation:

The position or a document attesting your rank and status in the babu-dom (the world of the bureaucrat)

I first understood the clout of these powerful terms as I walked into the bureaucratic setup, the arena of ‘departments, circulars, orders, notices, and rules’. The complicated task of trying to gain access into this fortress-like organisation appeared formidable at first to me, especially since I was an ‘outsider’ – a freshly minted researcher just beginning to understand this field.

Surprisingly though, far from being treated like an outcast as I had feared, I quickly realised that there was something much more influential at work here. The magical power that ‘authorisation’ has to transform attitudes in this world would put even the best of Rowling’s potions and Potter’s charms to shame.

The behavioural transformation of the bureaucrat, as a consequence of knowing that you possess the much treasured authorisation letter, is almost instantaneous. It is marked usually by a change in tenor from the particularly repulsive (reserved especially for annoying salesmen who disturb a Sunday afternoon siesta), to that which embodies the Atithi Devo Bhava (guest is our God) level deference.

In one such instance, walking into a District Mines Office in Chhattisgarh, I remember having to wait for the longest time as an invisible entity in an official’s room, while he was busy engaging in an enlightening rant about the sorry state of Indian morality and ‘girls-these-days’ with his junior staff. Presumably, I was seen as one of the girls he was referring to (at least the looks of pity I was receiving seemed to suggest so). However this lasted only till I was able to quietly place a letter of authorisation from the Joint Secretary on his table requesting him to assist us in our project. In a matter of seconds, before one could even finish uttering the words ‘ji, sir-ji’ (Yes, sir), the Diwan-e-aam (the gathering of commoners) was dismissed, the paan-chewing stopped, and I was offered a chair to, ‘please make yourself comfortable, madam’.

In another scenario, the reaction was even more priceless. A government school principal who we intended to interview initially decided to not show up, and instead sent his clerk to let us know that ‘saheb abhi busy hain, baad mein aana’ (Sir is busy, come later). Another teacher, likely sent by the man himself, came to inquire, ‘Kahan se aaye hain aap? Koi authorisation hai kya?’ (Where have you come from? Do you have any authorization?). The clarification that our study had the requisite permissions from the concerned department resulted in an immediate invitation to what is usually reserved only for the ‘very special’ in such cases – chai and biskut (tea and biscuit). In fact we were privileged enough to be granted the ultimate honor of samosas and mithai (snacks and sweets) as well – ‘local speciality, madam, taste toh kijiye! (It is local speciality madam, you must try it!)’, while we waited for the principal who rushed to meet us. It is my studied observation that in such cases, the lavishness of the spread is almost always directly proportional to the perceived bade babu-ness (position in the bureaucratic order) of the issuing authority.

In light of instances like these, how does one even begin to make sense of the complex, love-hate relationship that the bureaucracy has with authority? Authority for the bureaucrat is that necessary evil, which, despite being the most reviled by him, is what ultimately molds his own behavior, constituting his official character.

What the bureaucrat hates most in authority (the enforced obedience and the necessity of compliance) is also precisely what he himself uses and revels in while dealing with subordinates and janta janardhan (them commoners). Perhaps this explains the grudging but absolute acceptance of authority one witnesses while engaging with the bureaucracy?

Curiously enough though, this does not imply that the mere presence of authority is sufficient to drive the bureaucrat into action. While on one hand, the need for requisite authorisation becomes an excuse to put tasks off or shirk responsibility; on the other hand, the rigidity of the system works at times against itself, disallowing even committed individuals from performing their tasks effectively.

As Max Weber, the grandfather of literature on the subject said, “The rational-legal authority underpinning bureaucracy derives its legitimacy from legal orders, which ultimately form an ‘iron cage’ of rules and laws that trap the very individuals that are a part of it.”

I remember vividly of the resigned helplessness with which a senior district official discussed the case of a young boy whose father’s name had been misspelt on his school leaving certificate due to a typographical error. Carrying a plethora of unusable identification documents, with folded hands, the mother of the boy stood in the office of the district office with her child, requesting him to approve the scholarship grants that the student had been denied as a result of the situation. With the father having passed away a few months ago, there was no way to establish the identity of the boy without going through a gamut of legal jargon and bureaucratic red tape. Unfortunately however, there was not much that the official could do, as the correction was outside his authority.

While discussing how such trivial things sometimes hold up work unnecessarily in the bureaucracy, he claimed ultimately that the fear of repercussions (being hauled up for questioning by seniors; having a red mark on their permanent record; salary cuts, or possible suspension orders issued against them for deviating from norms) holds most officials back even when they genuinely wish to help.

Good intentions are great, but ‘rules’ reign supreme. ‘Majboori hai madam, kya karein jab niyam hi aisa hai’ (We are bound, madam, what can we do when the rule is such) is an oft heard refrain that makes one pause and wonder on the usefulness of a system that ends up disrupting its own efficiency with its insistence on respecting authority and instructions.

Lack of resources – both financial and personnel related – is another very real issue that holds back basic service delivery. Across departments and states one is frequently met with sights of mid and lower level government officials buried under reams of paperwork in their offices. The initial snappiness and curt reactions usually melt away when one gives a patient ear to the never-ending woes of chronic understaffing in the administration – Baaki sab toh theek hai madam, policy badhiya hai, par log kahan hain? (That is all well and good madam, the policy is great, but where are the people?)

In the next blog, we will discuss the matter of “babu ki kami” (shortage of clerical staff) in greater detail. Stay tuned!

Taanya Kapoor is part of the Public Administration team at Accountability Initiative. Her primary focus is on qualitative research to understand education reforms at the state level.

The ABC of Indian bureaucracy – a primer

This is the first blog of a five-part series to unpack the meaning of some of the frequently heard terms and phrases in the Indian bureaucracy.

“Poora system hi corrupt hai!” is an all too familiar statement heard being muttered by actors from both within and outside the bureaucracy. This is a powerful, all-encompassing narrative which, to begin with, discredits the work of lakhs of individuals who are committed to public service. Moreover, every time we indulge in this line of thought we take a step away from having a meaningful engagement with the organisation that has been disproportionately tasked with the responsibility of executing and directing the fate of government policies.

Without an informed, meaningful engagement with the bureaucracy, how can we even begin to formulate the right questions to ask of people running the show? In this five-part blog series the Public Administration team at AI will attempt to shine a light on some the words one often hears being flung around in government offices, from the perspective of mid-level and front line government actors. By doing so we hope to unpack some of the factors that drive government officials at work, and touch upon a couple of root causes that add to the overarching narrative associated with the bureaucracy.

Administration in alphabetical order

The public bureaucracy, like any other organisation, has a vocabulary, work culture and an internal logic unique to itself. The following words may appear deceptively bland to the layperson but to a government official the symbolic and literal meanings associated with them is enough to legitimise most of their work practices! So without further ado, here is a list of frequently used words in bureaucratic corridors, pulled out from our field level experiences spanning seven Indian states.

In the course of this month, we will be sharing our experiences of what some of these words and phrases mean for stakeholders within the middle and lower levels of the bureaucracy[1] so watch out for these![2]

[1] For our purpose, we have defined the middle and lower or frontline bureaucracy in the following way:

Middle level bureaucracy – Permanent and semi-permanent government agencies tasked with oversight and administration of frontline agencies. They ensure proper implementation of government policies, programmes and rule compliance, and provide technical support to frontline actors. Physical proximity to public is usually lower and contact with them is less frequent compared to frontline agencies owing to location of offices and nature of the primary responsibilities.

Frontline bureaucracy – Permanent and semi-permanent government agencies tasked with interpreting, implementing state level policies and programmes. Physical proximity and frequency of contact with general public is consistently high compared to agencies at higher tiers of the bureaucracy.

[2] For an insight into the world of top level bureaucracy, do follow our resident expert, Mr. T.R Raghunandan’s blog – Raghu Bytes.