'Our system often confuses rituals of respect with the substance of governance'
Credit: DH photo
In the great art of Indian public life, few things are as revealing as the small notices pasted on government boards and department walls. They look like routine instructions, but often tell you where the State places itself, and where the citizen stands in the hierarchy of power.
The latest of these is a new government resolution in Maharashtra that quietly commands officials to be courteous to legislators. It frames this to make administration more ‘reliable’ and ‘accountable’. On the surface, it sounds benign. Almost sweet, the way parents expect their children to behave. But the simplest rules often carry the most interesting subtext.
The resolution issued by the General Administration Department turns this expectation into formal instruction. Officers at every level, from Mantralaya to district and taluka offices, must extend full courtesy to public representatives. When an MLA or MP enters an office, officials are expected to stand. They must listen attentively. They should speak politely, and avoid language that could be read as harsh or disrespectful. They must maintain a register of every correspondence, and reply issued to the elected representative. All replies must go out within two months, and any delay must be recorded with reasons. The order also warns that negligence or failure to follow the protocol will invite action under the Maharashtra Civil Services Rules and the state law that seeks to prevent delays in government work.
It reads like a civics lesson wrapped in bureaucratic handwriting. A reminder that an elected representative is not an ordinary visitor. That the people’s mandate deserves a visible gesture of deference.
All of this is fine. No citizen objects to politeness. Officials can show courtesy. They often do already.
Yet our public life whispers something about a democracy where the river of respect flows mainly upward, like water pumped against gravity. It leaves us with a question that no one in the circular voices out loud. Will respect ever flow downward too? Even the word downward feels wrong in a democracy, because it implies citizens are lower in the hierarchy.
The citizens who wait on the other side of the counter
In our everyday experience, it is not the MLA walking into the tehsildar’s or registrar’s office who feels helpless. It is the citizen who walks in clutching a document stamped by every office except the one that truly matters. It is the elderly pensioner who has no idea which counter to approach next.
So, the rule reminds us of a truth we already know. Courtesy in India is often a political act. The namaste and the deference can feel staged, meant for the cameras and the permanent studio that many politicians carry with them, thanks to social media.
It is the version of respect that starts at the top and trickles down only when the person below has power of a different kind.
What the citizen wonders is this. If officials must stand for elected representatives, will the elected representatives ever stand up for the citizen? Not in a literal sense, but when it comes to defending their rights and their time.
If a legislator receives a reply within two months, will a citizen receive one at least within two years?
Officials may now maintain registers to track replies to legislators. Will legislators maintain registers to track replies to citizens? Imagine the accountability such a small ledger could bring. Imagine an MLA’s office publishing its weekly list of issues raised by residents and the action taken.
What the citizen quietly wonders is something even more basic. Do our elected representatives have a turnaround time for anything at all? Is there a standard operating procedure for how their offices must receive, record, and respond to ordinary people? If they do not follow these basic disciplines, will there be any consequence?
In government offices, the citizen is told that every process has a file, and every file has a rule. Yet when it comes to the people who make those rules, the discipline appears optional. If officials can be questioned for delays, will an MLA or corporator ever be questioned for ignoring a request from a neighbourhood or vanishing after the election dust settles?
Democracy is not a ritual of standing up
Our system often confuses rituals of respect with the substance of governance. We stand for people. We stand in queues. The problem is not the standing. The problem is what does not happen after the standing.
Citizens want to know if their roads will stop flooding every monsoon. They want to know if their children can go to college without fear. They want to know why the speed of government work is set by the slowest file in the building. They want to know if their representatives will fight for better hospitals, clean water pipelines and fair policing.
These are old questions. Almost boring. Yet they persist despite decades of independence and endless promises.
Bureaucracy cannot fix everything. Many problems arise because political instructions are vague, or last minute, or because priorities change overnight. Officers often carry the burden of expectations that elected representatives set. Respect for bureaucracy matters too. In some places, they are understaffed and stretched thin.
In most others, they remain overstaffed and underproductive because their performance metrics are outdated, and designed to shield the system rather than measure service. They also handle impossible caseloads, often because there is no consequence for inaction. They are caught between the Constitution and the constituency.
What would a truly modern democratic rule look like? Perhaps one that asks officials to be courteous and asks elected representatives to be transparent.
As Indians, we do not expect miracles. We do not expect government offices to suddenly smell of coffee and optimism. We simply want the same dignity that this new rule promises to legislators.
The dignity of being heard. The dignity of getting a response. The dignity of knowing our lives matter enough to merit a reply before the monsoon changes or the next election does.
Courtesy is a good place to begin. But if democracy is to feel real in the everyday lives of citizens, the respect must flow both ways.
But then, to go back to where we started: In a country overflowing with real problems, is this (GR) what received official attention? Democracy has an interesting sense of humour.
Srinath Sridharan is a corporate adviser and independent director on corporate boards. X: @ssmumbai.
Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.