An expression of regret will help

By Kuldip Nayar

Nations should never let the dust of time accumulate on certain episodes of history. They remind of the days when people underwent all sufferings to save their being, all that they held dear. One such episode in the life of independent India is the ``Emergency'' that Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi imposed on June 26 in 1975. On that day, the lights of the democratic system were switched off to make people live in the darkness of dictatorship for 22 months. Even the fundamental rights were suspended.

I am shocked that there were no meetings or even articles in newspapers to recall the atrocities committed during the Emergency. Some people, however, did gather at the Gandhi Peace Foundation hall in New Delhi as they had done in the past. But, the number was far less than before. The ruling National Democratic Alliance - some of its Ministers were victims - did not even think of the Emergency, probably because the undemocratic functioning of administration is increasing day-by- day and police excesses are in no way lessening. It looks as if the Emergency has become a part of the country's landscape, which is not too pleasant. People are confused and bewildered.

True, the nation at that time was initially in a state of shock and then of stupor, unable to realise the directions and the full implications of the actions of the Government and its functionaries. But, subsequently, when the mindless arrests of opponents did not abate and motivated raids were conducted on houses and business premises, people woke up. But they were too scared to speak out.

The communists, initially on Indira Gandhi's side, also recalled how wrong they had been in their support to her. By then democracy had been subverted.

The press behaved most abjectly. Mr. L. K. Advani was right when after the Emergency he told journalists, ``You were asked to bend but you began to crawl. The role of the Press Council was most reprehensible because the then Chairman allied himself with the Government. Sanjay Gandhi literally ran the country. His henchmen carried out high-handed and arbitrary actions with impunity. Tyrants sprouted at all levels overnight - tyrants whose claim to authority was largely based on their proximity to the seats of power.

The attitude of the general run of the public functionaries was largely characterised by a paralysis of the will to do the right thing. The ethical considerations inherent in public behaviour became generally dim and in many cases beyond the mental grasp of many public functionaries. The desire for self-preservation, as admitted by a number of public servants before the Shah Commission, which went into the excesses during the Emergency, became the sole motivation for official action and behaviour. Anxiety to survive at any cost formed the keynote of approach to the problems that came before many of them. But, Jayaprakash Narain, who represented the country's collective resistance to the Emergency, wrote in his prison diary that people would not accept the indignity and shame of totalitarianism. People did rise ultimately.

After the Emergency, I had a peep into the mind of Sanjay Gandhi, the extra-constitutional authority under the benign eyes of Indira Gandhi. I was then writing my book, The Judgement: The Inside Story of the Emergency, Sanjay Gandhi came to know of it. He sent me a message through Kamal Nath, who was then a member of the reconstituted board of the Indian Express, where I worked.

Both Indira Gandhi and Sanjay Gandhi had lost at the polls and so had the Congress. The party's tally in the entire northern India was two or three seats. The Safdarjang Road house looked like a lost battlefield, a sad picture of furniture, luggage and papers strewn all over.

``How could you think you would get away with it?'' I asked Sanjay who, clad in a white kurta and pyjamas, was standing under a tree. ``In my scheme of things, there were no elections,'' he said without any trace of remorse. ``Then why were elections held?'' I asked him. ``You should put the question to my mother,'' he replied, adding, ``I opposed them vehemently.''

At that very moment, I had a short glimpse of Indira Gandhi, retracing her steps from the verandah to the main house. I never asked her why she went to the polls. In fact, we did not meet even after her return to power. I never had any explanation about it.

Will anybody dare to impose the Emergency again? I do not think so. But, what worries me is that those who were victims of the Emergency are themselves indulging in acts, which suggest that their faith in the freedom of individual or the press is only skindeep. A television anchorman, who interviewed me a few days ago, went to the extent of characterising the protest against the Emergency as a personal campaign against Indira Gandhi.

Yet, if the nation is to preserve the fundamental values of a democratic society, every person, be it a public functionary or a private citizen, must display a degree of vigilance. There should also be an evidence of repentance, I think that Ms. Sonia Gandhi should at least say sorry to make it clear that she and her husband, Rajiv Gandhi, were not a party to the Emergency. An expression of regret may begin to irk the conscience of people in high places and make them realise that the wrongs would have to be accounted for one day. In a country where the line between right and wrong, moral and immoral, has been obliterated, the word ``sorry'' may begin some introspection in public affairs.

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