The socialism of my dreams: a postscript

A little chat with an old boy (not really old, but one who reads my posts intelligently and thoughtfully) led me to think that I should write a long postscript to the last one I wrote on the question of bringing back, or re-imagining, socialism (Socialism, capitalism and human nature). If ever a good socialist society is to be built, the designers will have to keep in mind some very important things, to wit:

1.      Power must never be allowed to be concentrated in the hands of one person, or one small (and fairly homogeneous – like old white males of the same caste, race or religious background) group: it is bound to be corrupted and turned into tyranny very soon. That is one of the few ‘iron laws’ of social psychology. If this cannot be ensured at start, better not to attempt it at all, because it is too costly to undo it at a later stage, in terms of human lives ruined and destroyed. Never again must Stalins and Maos and Pol Pots be allowed to take up the reins.

2.      Though socialism avowedly aims at doing away with all kinds of extreme and unearned privilege, it is the inherent tendency of human society to reconstruct ever new forms of privilege even as old ones are weakened or destroyed. So in Russia we got the commissars and apparatchiki fat cats in place of the nobility of Tsarist times, and in China we got a whole generation of high-living communist ‘princelings’, while in India, we got ministers and bureaucrats milking public sector organizations dry to live the high life, in exchange for guaranteeing their employees assured cushy jobs, however incompetent and ill-mannered and plain unnecessary they were (so government-run industries came to employ three or four times as many people as they actually needed, and kept them in gravy even while they piled up huge losses year after year). Let us get this clear: it is not only traditional aristocrats and priests and rich capitalists who want to live off the fat of the land but almost all of us, and most of us are always looking for a chance to do exactly that – socialism must not create new opportunities for them. Leaving aside only perhaps very old and ill and handicapped people, for all the rest Tolstoy’s interpretation of the Gospel should apply: ‘He who does not work shall not eat’. Remembering always, though, that it is not only farmers and factory workers who ‘work’: great artists, scientists, poets and social workers do, too, and without all their contributions, we should all be still living in the Stone Age.

3.      To ensure that over-concentration of power simply cannot happen, we must retain such ‘bourgeois’ facilities as citizens’ rights enshrined in written Constitutions, as well as elected parliaments, independent courts and a free press – if only because we have not yet discovered any better alternatives. Precisely why I admire the successful social democracies so much: they early realized the deadly folly of throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

4.      Carrying on from the previous point, government should not run businesses. Encourage, regulate and tax, yes, to a greater or lesser extent (though how much may be debated and changed frequently), but run, no. They simply cannot. If we still haven’t learnt that lesson after nearly a century of failed experiments in countless countries, we shall never learn, and go on to commit the same folly again. It may still be argued that in times – necessarily short periods – of special exigencies, as after major economic devastation caused by things like war (and, as was in the case of India in the late 1940s and 50s, Partition and extreme poverty and a very small and weak pre-existing private sector), government may briefly step in to organize the fundamentals and ‘prime the pump’ as it were, but as soon as the economy has returned to an even keel, it must step back. And it NEVER makes any sense whatever for governments to run things like hotels! On the other hand, schools and hospitals, yes, because leaving them entirely to profit-seeking businessmen can only spell disaster. But schools and hospitals will be allowed to survive only if they can live up to certain standards of efficiency and sincerity of service: they must not become havens for millions of unsocial job-seekers and petty bureaucrats.

5.      Socialism must never try to crush and exterminate religion. That only builds up titanic forces of reaction, which are bound sooner or later to burst and destroy it. The need for spiritual sustenance and inspiration, no matter how polluted by silly tradition, ritualism and superstition, is too deep and too widespread and too permanent (if the last few thousand years are any guide) to be done away with any time soon. The best that a progressive socialist government can do is to try to keep religions from going for each other’s throats, and to make them as socially beneficent (by way of running hospitals, schools, poorhouses, orphanages, old age homes and relief operations at the time of natural disasters, for example) and as little dependent on utterly nonsensical as well as harmful faith as possible.

6.      Finally, something about women. They do, indeed, make up half the human population, and an increasing fraction of them are now educated, and economically independent, and even in positions of influence and power. Without co-opting them in very large numbers into the neo-socialist movement, it will never succeed in today’s climes. And here I feel wonder at the best of times, despair at the worst. Can women even be made interested in such things? I have personally heard of no major female figure in the socialist movement since Rosa Luxembourg, though I am willing to be educated, and it is my eternal regret that I don’t find women who are willing to discuss such things with me, face to face or via this blog. I am ever willing to engage, except, as I have said before, with loonies – be they male or female.

Thank you, Aveek Mukherjee, for coaxing me into writing this post.

P.S.: I personally consider these essays on socialism so important a part of my work that I have now put all of them together under one tag on the blog.

P.P.S., March 04, 2022: I happened to read a most relevant essay on the subject today by Yogendra Yadav, one of our rising young politicians, and I thought I should provide a link to it for the benefit of like-minded readers.

November notes

It’s early winter, quite the nicest time of the year for me. Mercifully there are very few anxieties and pressing problems bugging me at the moment, and I am more delighted than I can say that my normal at-home classes have slowly got going again, so I have been luxuriating – hence the long delay between posts.

Also watching a lot of movies and TV shows. I actually like Young Sheldon more than The Big Bang Theory, believe it or not. (Oh, did you know that they mention Byomkesh Bakshi in episode 18, season 7 of TBBT? Made me feel good. Maybe Indian culture is really beginning to go places at long last). Newton made me wonder that there are weirdos like that in this country, too – people who make a crazy fetish of taking work and punctuality and personal responsibility seriously, I have seen a few such in real life – maybe that’s one of the few things that make us go on ticking! At a young pupil’s insistence I tried to watch The Haunting of Hill House, but gave it up quickly: ghost stories usually only make me yawn, and that combined with dysfunctional, cantankerous families is more than I can take. The Bureau of Magical Things is OK, but I am actually keenly waiting for the next movie after The Crimes of Grindelwald). The Crown has brought in a new series, but the next few episodes are going to be about the whole sordid Diana saga, so I think I’ll break a habit and go over to the next season straightaway. I watched Bettany Hughes presenting Geniuses of the Ancient World (Socrates, Confucius, the Buddha) and Geniuses of the Modern World (Marx, Nietzsche, Freud) one after the other, but one-hour capsules on titans like them couldn’t really teach me much beyond what I already knew. I guess, though, that in these Dark Ages a lot of people, especially those below thirty, might find them both interesting and instructive…

I have promised myself that I won’t write anything more connected with the so-called pandemic until the crisis has become history, so I won’t, but just one thought: is the whole species going to withdraw once again into hibernation mode if another virus begins to spread far and wide just two or five years down the line?

Diwali night is usually fun night at my house, with a lot of current and ex students visiting. But it was rather dull and depressing this time round without any fireworks. Ah, well…

A visiting old boy showed me the words of blessing and advice that I had scribbled in his notebook on the last day in school, twenty years ago. It made me proud to think that I wouldn’t have to change a word in it, and that he said he wished he had listened more attentively then.

To current pupils especially, do look up the posts under the tabs headed Books and Movies and Travels. To older readers, I’d strongly recommend those under Education.

Bye for now. Maybe I’ll post something again soon.

the rangoli that my mother made for Diwali

P.S.: A pupil reminded me today 'Sir, you haven't told a story online for two months!' Made my day.

Mayhem at barrage, water crisis

(men at work at the damaged lock gate)

 (the gate cordoned off to dry)

Many hundred thousand residents of Durgapur – including myself – went through a harrowing week after water supply from the Damodar Barrage was suddenly cut off on Saturday the 31^st October, following the collapse of one of the lockgates.

Mercifully we are only two people in our household at the moment, and I immediately filled up my little reservoir (unlike most of my neighbours, my father never built a magnum tank underground), the overhead tanks and the oversized bathtub before the taps ran dry. Then the endurance test began.

Repair and restoration work, involving the Irrigation Department of the government of West Bengal (which runs the barrage), DSP engineers and the municipality started apparently on a war footing immediately: but, of course, ‘war footing’ means something very different in India from what it signifies, say, in Germany. In any case, they had to wait four days for the river bed to run dry, cordoning off the affected gate with massive piles of sandbags (very low tech, I think… aren’t there faster, more efficient ways in this day and age?). Then the repair work itself took nearly two days, then they started releasing water from upstream (Maithan dam), and the water level in the feeder canals had to rise to a certain height before the pumping stations could start working again. The water supply was restored at about 9 p.m. on Friday the 6^th. I filled up the tanks again, running the pump at midnight, and since then I have kept my fingers crossed, lest something untoward happens (someone has already told me that the hurried repair has been in the nature of patchwork, and the damaged gate is leaking) and the supply is cut off again.

Why does this sort of thing have to happen? The barrage was built in 1955, and the tremendous pressure of water that it has to withstand (including especially abnormal times, such as the great flood of 1978), combined with the extremely corrosive properties of our river water, makes it a given that the gates suffer slow but cumulative damage over the decades: you don’t have to be either an engineer or a professional administrator to know that, and give warnings and take timely preventive action. A very similar mishap actually occurred three years ago; it was quickly mended, but that should have set the alarm bells ringing. It seems from newspaper reports that a decision was taken to repair eleven of the gates which were visibly in poor shape, but till date only four have been taken care of. Now, after this second scare they have decided to replace all the gates one by one, but, given the speed at which our authorities work once  a crisis is past and forgotten, heaven knows whether that, or the next disaster, will happen first… and I wonder why, in an increasingly more populated town which aspires to be tagged ‘smart city’ soon, we should go on depending on a single source of water. The luckiest people in town were those who had their own wells and tube wells, but, since people like me happen to live in one of the ‘smartest’ (read ‘planned’-) parts, we are not even allowed to dig wells of our own, because that will severely lower the water table soon. Granted that is a valid argument, but then, why are we still depending, this entire Bidhan Nagar area, on one small supply tank built half a century ago, which runs out of water within a single day, when the population of the area has increased at least fifty fold over the same time period? [P.S., Nov. 09: I am delighted to read in today's newspaper that in this one instance, at least, the municipal authorities are doing some serious forward thinking. Better late than never, certainly.]

Another thing I learnt is that Bengalis – they have always been know-alls, however uneducated and socially insignificant they might actually be – have become absolutely confident about talking absolute nonsense. I heard so many authorities on TV and in newspapers, I met so many on the street, and they all told me with total certitude that the water supply was going to be restored on such a date and at such a time, and most of them got it dead wrong (indeed, according to someone in uniform at the local police outpost, we are not going to get any water at all till Monday, the day after tomorrow)!

One last thing. I saw my neighbours – the same people who have far bigger reservoirs at home than I do! – queuing up before mobile water tankers morning and evening from the third day onwards, and buying large plastic bottles of drinking water every day on top of that. My mother and I had simply decided to avoid all usage of water except the bare essentials, drinking, cooking and washroom use, and our stored supply sufficed to tide us over. How much water people must be habitually wasting, really! I wish the government would finally get it into its thick head that instead of charging flat water taxes, which encourages waste, water supply should be metered, as electric supply is metered and charged for – which is what the World Bank very sensibly advised decades ago. But no, we shall wait for real, nationwide disaster to strike before we take wise, farsighted decisions of any sort. We are Indians after all.

[By the way, whenever I provide a link to some old blogpost, so many people visit it that it quickly gets into the Most Read list. It has happened with my review of the movie The Bucket List this time. Why on earth don’t visitors explore older posts on their own?]

One truly new experience

 I had – guess what – a full body massage today. No news really, except for the fact that I had been mildly curious about it for decades, my daughter has been nagging me for years to get a taste of it, yet this was the very first time in my life at age 57, and yes, it was good. In fact, much more than good, else I wouldn’t have bothered to write here about it. 

I have always hated (or rather, felt embarrassed about-) anything that smacks of self indulgence, so always tried to avoid anything which attracts that label, though I have wanted my loved ones to enjoy them, so long as they didn’t do it to excess. Getting a massage, to my mind, has always sounded like gross self-indulgence, so I limited myself to the head massage that barbers sometimes offer (once upon a time when barbers were content to be poor they came free: now no longer!) I had always thought that such things were for effete zamindars, sybaritic politicians and fat, corrupt policemen. Halfway through life I learnt that some people within the extended family needed such treatment as part of recuperative therapy after some forms of serious and prolonged illness, and that massages were good for the circulation and the heart and for reducing stress; besides, I had started to develop all kinds of aches and pains myself, so I began to waver. That wavering, however, had gone too far… for more than a decade, in fact. But the mountain had to come to Muhammad, so I waited, and waited, until a young friend who had qualified as a physiotherapist, and had treated me as well as my parents, set up a clinic a stone’s throw from my house, and asked me to come over for a first experience at a time of my choosing. So I did this evening, and it was grand.

For half an hour, in a dimly lit and lightly perfumed room, with slow and soothing music playing softly in the background, I was pushed and pulled and pressed and kneaded and, well, subjected to the entire bag of tricks in the professional masseur’s repertoire. I cannot pay him a greater compliment than to put two things on record: that I nearly fell asleep, and that my heart rate had become slower afterwards than I have ever seen in the last twenty years! I really must do this again, preferably soon.

And maybe it’s time that I started seriously to draw up a bucket list for myself. Would it be a long one, I wonder? Most things I have wanted I have got and grown tired of; others, I know, will always be beyond my reach, and not always merely for lack of time, money or facilities available nearby. But maybe there are a few things that can be done without too much trouble, and would give me just as much fun?