A RECENT COVER STORY IN The Economist (August 2) described industry tycoon Mukesh Ambani, chairman of Reliance Industries — and the world’s richest Indian, according to the US-based Forbes magazine — as ‘An unloved billionaire’. This description of the country’s richest and most powerful business tycoon generated quite a stir in the boardrooms of India Inc and aroused considerable debate in elite drawing rooms countrywide, although hardly any public discussion.
The Economist feature is worthy of notice because it presumes all billionaires aren’t unloved — a presumption most Indians will find fantastic. It wasn’t always so. Mahatma Gandhi numbered several millionaire businessmen, notably G.D. Birla, Kasturbhai Lalbhai and Jamnalal Bajaj among others, as his friends and benefactors. But after independence when the country ill-advisedly chose the socialist path to national development, Indian society has been driven by envy of the rich and successful, disguised as socialism.
But that’s not the whole story. Much of the hatred, ridicule and contempt which India’s rich arouse is also of their own making. Regrettable but true, India’s super-rich are defined by boorishness, in-your-face conspicuous consumption and behaviour norms inherited from the kiss-up and kick-down village baniya. Unlike America’s richest who are generously loved by the public for creating employment, paying taxes and their philanthropy, the manners and public relations of most indigenous businessmen are — not to mince words — deplorable. They never return calls or letters and seldom have a kind word of encouragement, leave aside other forms of generosity.
Your editor discovered the baniya mentality of the leaders of India Inc the hard way when launching this publication. All the captains of Indian industry whose cause I had fought long and hard in my previous avatar as editor of the country’s first two business magazines, many of whom I regarded as friends, never returned calls or letters, let alone spare loose change to advertise in this publication, so self-evidently in the public interest.If this is the way India’s billionaires/millionaires treat their friends and benefactors, one can well imagine their interaction with the general public. It’s hardly surprising it’s an unloved tribe.
Decline & fall of HMT
THE OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT MADE LAST MONTH THAT the public sector HMT Ltd (estb. 1953) has discontinued the manufacture of wristwatches begun in 1961, is another — but alas, not last — nail in the coffin of post-independence India’s neta-babu socialism. The time was when protected by sky-high import duties, HMT dominated the time-pieces market like a colossus, to the extent that the top brass of the company began to complacently believe they produced globally competitive products.
After prime minister Rajiv Gandhi, India’s first liberaliser, reduced import duties on industrial goods, the machine tools division of HMT went into decline because babus in Delhi refused the company permission to switch to manufacturing nexgen CNC (computer numerically controlled) machines. Consequently 90 percent of the net profit of HMT was earned by the watches division headed by I.K. Amitha, a brilliant marketing professional.
At that time the Tata Group launched its Titan quartz watches with French collaboration in the Indian market. Not only was Amitha not permitted to set a up new line to produce quartz watches — which according to industry ministry babus had no future in India — he was also denied a modest loan. Unsurprisingly, he resigned and signed up with Titan as an advisor. The rest is history which culminated in the deeply-in-the-red HMT discontinuing production of watches last month.
A defining characteristic of the now in the doldrums public sector enterprises is that industry, finance, commerce and law ministry bureaucrats never appreciated business management expertise and steadfastly refused to devolve decision-making powers to managers, even of the calibre of Patil and Amitha. Hence the continuous decline and imminent demise of HMT.
Clive was moderate
IN 1773 WHILE DEFENDING HIMSELF BEFORE a British parliamentary committee inquiring corruption charges against him, Robert Clive, Baron of Plassey, described in vivid language the situation in which his victory in the Battle of Plassey (1757) had placed him: great princes dependent on his pleasure; an opulent city afraid of being given up to plunder; wealthy bankers bidding against each other for his smiles; vaults piled with gold and jewels thrown open to him alone. “By God, Mr. Chairman,” he exclaimed, “at this moment I stand astonished at my own moderation!”
Two hundred and fifty years on, we have to accept the possibility that Clive might indeed have been moderate in his cupidity.
According to the body of evidence produced in a Bangalore special sessions court recently, no such restraint was exercised by former three-time chief minister of Tamil Nadu J. Jayalalithaa in plundering wealth and riches during her first term in office (1991-96). On September 28, the presiding judge of the court sentenced her to four years in prison, a fine of Rs.100 crore, expropriation of property and disqualified her from public office for another six years for accumulating wealth wholly disproportionate to her legal sources of income. Among her assets: 2,000 acres of land including a tea estate, 30 kg gold, 12,000 sarees and 750 pairs of shoes with an aggregate value of Rs.66.5 crore — all amassed during her first five years in office.
The plain truth is the honest politician or bureaucrat is an exception rather than rule in this giant kleptocracy designed under the fig leaf of Indian socialism. According to a recent report of the Delhi-based Association for Democratic Reforms, in the last Lok Sabha, 146 of 206 Congress, and 59 of 116 BJP MPs (and 14 of 23 Samajwadi and 13 of 21 BSP MPs) had self-declared assets of over Rs.5 crore with Nama Nageswara Rao of the Telugu Desam Party (assets: Rs.171 crore) topping the list.
In retrospect, Baron Robert Clive of Plassey may well have been right about his moderation.