A Maharaja in the republic
The latest controversy over Air India reminds me of Singapore Airlines (SIA) dropping out of the bidding in 2001 when the national carrier hoped that partial privatisation would raise enough money to pay off its $70 million debt and permit the long overdue upgrading of its 27 aircraft. The late Lee Kuan Yew, the first Prime Minister of Singapore, told me there was “too much vested interest” for a slightly diluted ownership to make any difference. SIA couldn’t change Air India’s in-grained culture. That’s what Prime Minister Narendra Modi should tackle if he really wants to go beyond PR gimmicks and reform systems and institutions.
Lee demonstrated his loyalty to Air India as long ago as 1957 by objecting to the airline’s exclusion when the British colonial authorities allowed British Overseas Airways Corporation and Qantas a 51 per cent stake in the new Malayan Airline registered in Singapore, then a British colony. To Lee, this was race discrimination. BOAC and Qantas were both white-owned.
To make their point, Singapore’s nationalist politicians flew only Air India when they went abroad. Sellapan Rama Nathan, then a foreign office diplomat who later became the President of Singapore, lamented Air India’s deterioration after J.R.D. Tata was eased out. “Once it became government then you had all this. It’s sad.” Decline was inevitable. “I ask you, how do you run an airline when every Air India chairman when he retires — he’s got a new job — still travels free?” Mr Nathan asked rhetorically. “It’s an entitlement! Like that, every Tom, Dick and Harry has his share. Are you a commercial airline or are you not? And then, of course, service has deteriorated.”
Mr Nathan recalls flying once with his wife as ordinary fare-paying passengers. “The crew, the staff, the stewards and stewardesses, they couldn’t be bothered with us. Lolling away behind, drinking, chatting, having tamasha. No discipline at all!” Even a senior member of the Prime Minister’s Office in New Delhi startlingly told my son Deep when he was writing The Making of Indian Diplomacy: A Critique of Eurocentrism, that Indian diplomacy will improve the day Air India is abolished. He also pointed out that fare-paying business class passengers no longer fly Air India. In short, the national carrier is for the political and bureaucratic riff-raff. They would have no opportunity of flying if Air India didn’t exist.
Jitender Bhargava’s book, The Descent of Air India, which the publisher was reportedly pressured into withdrawing, recounted the entire saga. He blamed the mess on government interference, wrong decisions and the servile attitude of airline officials towards ministers. I can believe without the recent spate of allegations against civil aviation minister Ashok Gajapathi Raju, minister of state for home affairs Kiren Rijiju and Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fad-navis, or the earlier charges against another politician, Praful Patel, that much of the problem lies in Air India pandering to those who wield power and abuse that power in their own interest.
When I lived in Singapore, I would fly to England once or twice a year to see my son who was studying there. Air India was a convenient carrier because it allo-wed me to break journey in Delhi, at my own cost. But soon, Air India’s Singapore office refused to make Singapore-Delhi-London bookings. “We can’t guarantee you won’t be offloaded in Delhi!” they apologised. Their professional reputation was at stake.
What could they do? Senior Indian bureaucrats and politicians could not be bothered about confirmed bookings of ordinary passengers. And Air India would throw them out at the bidding of VIPs. Even flight schedules were changed. No wonder the Cabinet secretary, India’s senior-most bureaucrat, opposed privatisation. He had to safeguard the perks of the thousands of officers under him. According to Arun Shourie, a Con-gress MP spilt the beans in Parliament when the airline’s huge losses and undisclosed debts were being discussed.
Lee’s prescription was predictably drastic. He knew that the aviation department and ministries would resist if a shareholder tried to reform Air India. After all, the airline serviced them. He would, therefore, “let Air India die naturally” and start a new airline to cater separately to VIPs.
“You can have Indian Air Force One, Air Force Two, Air Force Three for the President, Prime Minister and other ministers and officials,” he said. “A dynamic airline also helps the economy. You have to take into account the number of tourists it will bring, the businessmen, the connections it will create.”
Nothing could be more unconvincing than the sugary “I love Air India” and “Our Air India” ads on television. A serious effort is expected from a Mr Modi who would have us believe that he cares. Ministerial tantrums can be ignored. The sulks of senior civil servants are of no lasting concern. The newspaper headlines and television excitement will also soon die down. But a national carrier that is an international disgrace will remain unless Mr Modi has the cou-rage, imagination and determination to grasp the nettle. So far he has tried only to dazzle us with empty slogans like “Swachch Bharat” and “Make in India” and squandered scarce nati-onal resources on events like Yoga Day to win immortality in the pages of the Guinness Book of Records.
Abolition alone may create worse problems if the government pays a fortune for pampered servants to fly other airlines. Mr Modi must replace Air India with a viable alternative and ensure its professional management. The pre-cedent of the abolished Planning Commission must not be repeated.
The writer is a senior journalist, columnist and author