It's not every day that an anti-corruption investigation makes headlines for all the wrong reasons. In Jammu and Kashmir, three officers of the Anti-Corruption Bureau (ACB) have been reassigned to the home department, raising quite a few eyebrows. Why? Because they were investigating allegations of large-scale corruption in the Srinagar Smart Cities Mission.
This reshuffle comes just days after one of the officers, SP Abdul Wahid Shah, went public with claims of major irregularities in the project's execution. According to Mr Shah, top officials in the Srinagar Smart City Limited (SSCL) — the special purpose vehicle set up to implement the mission — were found with assets that didn't match their declared incomes. The ACB even registered a case under the Prevention of Corruption Act and carried out searches at multiple locations. So far, so good, right?
Enter the twist: Instead of applauding the officers for doing their job, the administration decided to send them packing. Former chief minister Mehbooba Mufti didn't mince words, calling it a case of "punishing the whistleblower."
The bigger picture here is troubling. The Smart Cities Mission, launched with much fanfare in 2015, was supposed to transform cities like Srinagar. But if allegations of misappropriation and substandard materials are true, the whole project risks becoming another cautionary tale of big promises and poor execution.
Mufti also touched on a deeper issue — the misuse of investigative agencies as tools to silence dissent rather than root out corruption. If this trend continues, it's not just the whistleblowers but the public who lose out. Accountability, it seems, is becoming a rare commodity.
What's worse? Moves like this reinforce the perception that public servants who dare to challenge the status quo do so at their peril. If whistleblowers are punished, who's going to stick their neck out next time?
Lessons from Argentina for India’s babus
Argentina has sparked a global conversation with its decision to introduce a mandatory 'suitability test’ for 40,000 public servants, a move aimed at streamlining government operations. Announced by presidential spokesperson Manuel Adorni, the policy mandates that employees on temporary contracts pass an online examination to retain their positions. This initiative is part of President Javier Milei’s broader effort to reduce fiscal deficits and enhance governmental efficiency.
The policy has received significant praise from figures like Elon Musk, who lauded the focus on government downsizing, and US President Donald Trump, who commended Mr Milei as a “strong leader.” However, it has also raised questions about its implications if introduced in other countries, including India.
In India, the general public perception of babus is far from flattering. Public servants are often criticized as arrogant, corrupt, and indifferent to citizens’ needs. Despite some exceptions, this stereotype persists, eroding trust in government institutions. Introducing aptitude tests could address these concerns by holding public servants accountable and ensuring they possess the skills necessary for their roles.
However, the implications of such a policy in India would be significant. Regular assessments could improve performance and public trust, ensuring that only competent individuals remain in service. But the logistics of implementing a standardized testing mechanism in a vast bureaucracy would be daunting. Also, tying job security to periodic evaluations might create stress and resentment among employees, potentially affecting productivity.
Of course, the babus themselves can be expected to resist any such move. The civil service unions and political entities are likely to push back against such reforms, citing risks of politicization and favouritism in the testing process, even though it will be widely welcomed by the public as a much-needed measure to rein in the powerful babus.
The sheer scale of India’s administrative apparatus, coupled with entrenched attitudes and political complexities, makes this a challenging proposition. However, if implemented thoughtfully, such reforms could transform how public servants are perceived, bridging the trust gap between the government and its citizens.
A calculated gamble or insider confidence?
The recent resignation of Shivdeep Waman Rao Lande, an IPS officer of the 2006 batch, has sparked widespread speculation. His decision to step down as IG of the Police Training Centre, Patna, citing personal reasons, is being widely interpreted as a precursor to a political debut. With Bihar’s Assembly elections just around the corner, Mr Lande is rumoured to be aligning himself with the Jan Suraj Party, helmed by Prashant Kishor.
This isn’t the first time a bureaucrat has swapped the comfort of administrative corridors for the rough-and-tumble of electoral politics. Ambitious civil servants have often gravitated toward established political powerhouses like the BJP or Congress, drawn by the promise of a ready platform and a robust organizational structure. However, Mr Lande’s rumoured move to join a fledgling party — one that, despite its founder's larger-than-life reputation, remains an untested entity — raises eyebrows. Is this simply a leap of faith, or does Mr Lande know something the aam public doesn’t?
It’s worth noting that Prashant Kishor himself has a quasi-bureaucratic background, having worked with the United Nations before carving a niche as India’s most sought-after political strategist. His transition from international bureaucracy to political manoeuvring mirrors, in some ways, the path that Mr Lande now seems to be considering.
What makes Mr Lande’s choice particularly intriguing is the timing and the context. Bihar’s political landscape is notoriously complex, and the Jan Suraj Party’s grassroots experiment is still in its infancy. Whether Mr Lande’s gamble will pay off or add him to the growing list of babus whose political careers failed to take off remains to be seen. For now, it’s a bold move, one that reflects the evolving aspirations of India’s babus.
