THE BIHAR CASE
To understand how this alternative logic works on the ground, and why the ignorant voter hypothesis cannot explain the puzzle of India’s criminal politicians, there is no better place to start than in Anant Singh’s Bihar. Virtually every discussion on the criminalization of politics in India begins and ends with Bihar, which for decades has been synonymous with “dirty politics.” On a percentage basis, Bihar has regularly elected to its state assembly a large share of politicians facing serious criminal cases (figure 5.3). In terms of its share of criminally suspect legislators, it is tied with the state of Maharashtra and lags behind only the state of Jharkhand, which was a part of Bihar prior to the latter’s bifurcation in 2000.
Figure 5.3. State-wise distribution of MLAs with pending serious criminal cases, as of December 2015. (Author’s calculations based on data from the Association for Democratic Reforms from each state’s most recent state assembly election)
The political economy of current-day Bihar has its roots in the colonial power structure, the foundation of which had two pillars: land and caste. In Bihar, the British colonial authorities implemented a system of land revenue—known as the “Permanent Settlement”—that entrusted a powerful class of feudal landlords (zamindars) with the legal responsibility for collecting revenue as well as overseeing most aspects of local governance.54 With few exceptions, the zamindars belonged to the upper castes. In many instances, the zamindari elite abused their powerful position by presiding over an agrarian economic system that systematically exploited the lower castes. This structure of economic relations stood in contrast with the overall demographics of Bihar: according to estimates from the 1931 census (the last census which collected detailed caste data), the upper/forward castes made up around 15 percent of Bihar’s population, whereas OBCs made up 50 percent.55 The 2011 census, which does have data on the population of SCs (Dalits) and Muslims, finds that those two groups currently account for roughly 33 percent of the total population.
After independence, the ruling Congress Party inherited and perpetuated the local dominance of the landed upper-caste elites.56 Due to popular pressure, however, Congress was compelled to enact legislation to formally abolish the zamindari system. Although the resulting legislation was riddled with loopholes, land reforms did succeed in damaging the upper castes’ social prestige.57 The newly empowered cultivators-turned-landowners came largely from the upper sections of the OBCs. Initially, the newfound economic power of the OBCs stood in stark contrast to their lack of political power (figure 5.4). The period from 1967 until 1989 was one of conflict and political instability in Bihar, marked by a gradual increase in the share of legislative seats occupied by OBCs.58 Among the OBCs in Bihar, the Yadavs emerged as the most politically dominant subgroup. Notwithstanding the tremendous social churning underway, the upper-caste-heavy Congress Party maintained a tenuous hold on power during this tumultuous period, in part due to the strength of its patron-client networks.59
In the late 1980s, the politics of backward caste empowerment was given a huge shot in the arm by the government-sponsored Mandal Commission, which advocated quotas for OBCs in public sector employment and education. Agitation in favor of these quotas, as well as fierce opposition by those who stood to lose out, ultimately led to the defeat of Congress in 1990 and the rise to power of the Janata Dal, led by Lalu Prasad Yadav, who would dominate the Bihar political scene for the next fifteen years.60 Lalu served as chief minister for ten years, until he was forced to resign after being named in a massive corruption scandal involving the embezzlement of funds earmarked to purchase livestock feed (known as the “Fodder Scam”).
Figure 5.4. Caste identity of Bihar MLAs, 1952–2010. (Data from Christophe Jaffrelot and Sanjay Kumar, eds., Rise of the Plebeians? The Changing Face of Indian Legislative Assemblies [New Delhi: Routledge, 2009]; Manish K. Jha and Pushpendra, “Governing Caste and Managing Conflicts in Bihar, 1990–2011,” Policies and Practice No. 48 [March 2012], Mahanirban Calcutta Research Group, http://www.mcrg.ac.in/PP48.pdf)
While nominally stepping aside, Lalu managed to install his wife, Rabri Devi, as chief minister. Lalu Yadav’s rise to power represented a critical juncture in Bihar’s politics. Although caste had been a factor in Bihar’s politics for centuries, Lalu’s reign was associated with the entrenchment of identity politics. He skillfully combined language, symbols, and a gift for retail politics to build and maintain a coalition strong enough to usher in a reconfiguration of patterns of caste dominance in Bihar.61 In addition, Lalu expressed deep distrust for an upper-caste dominated bureaucracy. Rather than investing in reshaping formal institutions, Lalu encouraged the creation of informal networks of power that sought to circumvent the state and mediate social demands directly. This strategy created a vacuum through which many criminals gained a foothold in politics, using their resources and local networks to promote themselves as local strongmen.62
The proliferation of criminals in politics during the Lalu era was a culmination of factors, including many that had been under way for some time.63 Lalu accelerated, but did not initiate, many of these ongoing trends. Politicians and criminals had long worked hand in glove in Bihar; what Lalu did was make the connection almost “respectable.”64 To that end, his reign came to be termed “Jungle Raj,” to signify the marked deterioration in state institutions and breakdown of law and order.65
In 2005, the Lalu era gave way to a period of reform under Chief Minister Nitish Kumar. Once an ally of Lalu’s, Kumar eventually struck out on his own and formed a new party, JD(U). After years toiling in the opposition, the Kumar-led National Democratic Alliance (a coalition of the JD[U] and the BJP) won election and took over the reins to the state in 2005. Kumar dedicated himself to pursuing a development and good governance agenda in Bihar.
Between 2005 and 2010, Kumar made significant strides in strengthening state institutions to combat Bihar’s lawlessness and reinvesting in pro-poor development. Yet for all of his accomplishments, Kumar also skillfully manipulated social divisions to build and maintain political support; he was hardly above engaging in the art of “social engineering” that Lalu and others had perfected. Whereas Lalu explicitly prioritized backward caste empowerment over development (vikaas nahin, sammaan chahiye—we need dignity, not development—was his defining motif), Nitish Kumar’s innovation was marrying social justice concerns with a development plank.66 As two close observers of Bihar’s politics quipped, Kumar’s rhetoric was infused “with the subtext of caste and religious identities. For his rival, Lalu Prasad, caste was the only text and the subtext as well.”67
Although he may have improved law and order in Bihar, Kumar recognized that he could not win elections by completely ostracizing the state’s powerful criminally linked politicians.68 Because these politicians doubled as influential caste leaders, repudiating them would have had catastrophic consequences for Kumar’s political standing, especially for a man who came from a relatively small and politically insignificant backward caste. Indeed, Kumar’s willingness to embrace politicians with questionable pasts is evident when one looks at the candidates he has supported within his party.69 In the October 2005 election, according to my analysis of the affidavit data, 22 percent of MLA candidates from Nitish Kumar’s JD(U) faced serious criminal cases; in 2010, when Kumar’s alliance won reelection, that proportion grew to 35 percent. One of those JD(U) contesting elections while under serious criminal suspicion was none other than Anant Singh.
Anant Singh’s Mokama
On the morning I set out to meet chhote sarkar, the Times of India published a prominent story on page two of its Patna edition titled, “Anant’s Sarkar [government] in Mokama.” The profile described Anant Singh as a dada who—true to his moniker—wielded more influence in his constituency than the actual government. The reporter who penned the piece mixed in anecdotes about Singh’s feared personality with talk of improved safety and better access to services in the constituency in recent years under his watch.
Located along the southern bank of the Ganges River in the eastern reaches of Patna district, Mokama is situated in what locals call the taal area—where low-lying, fertile farmland is submerged by the Ganges during monsoon rains for nearly half the year. This annual submersion makes it difficult to demarcate land boundaries, rendering property rights more of an aspiration than a reality. The resulting tensions over land, coupled with a nonexistent state and simmering resentment over the long-standing dominance exercised by upper-caste Bhumihars, has made Mokama a haven for gangsterism. Here the transition from lawbreaker to lawmaker is considered an established career trajectory. “We take our inspiration from our seniors,” one small-time criminal operating in Mokama confessed to a visiting journalist. “One of our former leaders has even become an MP and I also wish to follow that path and reach the same pinnacle as him.”70
Bhumihars, in addition to controlling most of Mokama’s economic and political power, are also numerically dominant in the constituency: according to local estimates, 90,000 of Mokama’s 220,000 voters are Bhumihars.71 Yadavs, who primarily work as cultivators, tillers, and small-hold farmers and are thought to be the main rivals to Bhumihar dominance, bitterly complain of upper-caste oppression.72 At least as far back as 1977, Mokama’s representative in the state assembly has hailed from the Bhumihar caste. Although Bhumihars remain dominant in Mokama even today, internal factions have emerged due to issues of family, turf, and local contract (thekadari) business. When I set out to visit the constituency, Anant Singh was without question the dominant Bhumihar political player in the area.73
The Dabangg Mystique
Several hours after departing the capital, having suffered through the rocky ride from downtown Patna and a breakdown of our vehicle along the way (in hindsight, the two were likely connected), I found myself face-to-face with Singh in the dusty village of Punarakh, which Singh was gracing with his presence as part of his pre-election campaign rounds. When I reached the village, local elders had gathered in the market area sitting on plastic chairs and drinking chai while they waited for chhote sarkar to arrive, busying themselves with idle election handicapping. Our quiet gossiping was abruptly interrupted by the sound of car engines approaching. Soon a convoy of ten or so high-end SUVs roared into the village, and Singh hopped out of one of the cars, sauntering over to the group accompanied by several burly-looking men and a well-armed bodyguard.
As I caught my first glimpse of him, Singh appeared exactly as had been advertised—wearing all white, donning stylish black sunglasses, and sporting a handlebar moustache. Without skipping a beat, one of Singh’s aides quickly lit a fresh cigarette and slipped it to his boss, completing the image I had etched into my mind. Another associate of Singh’s, with whom I had been in contact, brought me over to the candidate and we exchanged pleasantries; before I knew it, I was seated on a plastic chair as a guest of honor at Singh’s village meeting, bottled mango juice thrust into my hand. The actual “meeting” lasted just a few minutes before Singh and his entourage stood up and commenced their walking tour of the village.
Several houses in the village displayed Singh’s campaign poster near their front entrance (figure 5.5). The poster featured a picture of Singh with his trademark sunglasses looking quite imposing—a stark contrast to the campaign posters typical in many Western democracies, where the candidate is made to look like the neighbor next door, surrounded by his spouse, kids, and the family dog.
Figure 5.5. Election poster of JD(U) candidate in the Mokama constituency of Bihar, Anant Singh. (Author’s photograph, 2010)
At that moment, it dawned on me that Singh’s appearance was entirely calculated—he held the reputation of being a strongman and carefully styled himself to reinforce this image. I couldn’t help think of the uncanny similarities between Singh’s election poster and those heralding the Bollywood blockbuster sweeping across India at the time, Dabangg. In the movie, superstar Salman Khan plays the role of police officer Chulbul Pandey (nicknamed “Robin Hood Pandey”), a wayward cop with a sympathetic streak. Singh’s resemblance to the Salman Khan character (himself a play on a perennial good guy/bad guy character found in so many Indian movies) in the film was hardly coincidental.
Indeed, the Hindi word dabangg is one I heard repeatedly used to describe Singh and his fellow strongmen politicians in Bihar. Dabangg is a word that lacks a hard-and-fast definition but typically connotes a powerful leader who is both feared as well as fearless. Individuals described as dabangg are those who tout their rough edges—either their direct involvement or simply the veneer of criminal association—as a badge of honor. One voter in the nearby constituency of Bakhtiarpur explained the dabangg concept to me succinctly. He said: “Someone who is dabangg is like a paperweight. He makes his presence felt.” Like Salman Khan’s character, such individuals are self-styled Robin Hoods, who can use their reputation of doing bad to do good for their supporters.
Although Mokama is a poor, rural constituency with a low literacy rate (even for India), voter ignorance does not appear to be a convincing explanation of Singh’s popular support.74 To the contrary, Singh’s prior brushes with the law are common knowledge among voters. Judging by his appearance that day (and by his campaign materials and media coverage), Singh is hardly bashful about coming across as a tough guy.
This anecdotal impression is backed up by hard data. Survey evidence I collected (in collaboration with CSDS) from more than 2,000 voters across Bihar following the election also suggests that a lack of access to information is not the primary motivation for supporting candidates with criminal cases (see Appendix B).
Consider, for example, the relationship between the educational qualifications of Bihari voters and the frequency with which they vote for candidates with serious criminal cases (figure 5.6). Although education level is not the same as access to information, the two are likely to be highly correlated; one would expect better-educated voters to have better access to information (and to be more able to process that information in a useful manner). As such, if the ignorant voter hypothesis were correct, one would also expect better-educated voters to be less likely to vote for criminal candidates facing serious cases. However, there is no clear relationship between a voter’s education level and his or her propensity to vote for a candidate facing serious criminal charges. In fact, if anything, it appears as if more educated voters (those who have completed matric/high school or college) are slightly more likely to vote for such candidates than their lesser-educated peers.
Figure 5.6. Level of education and support for candidates with serious criminal cases in Bihar, 2010. N/A indicates responses of “don’t know,” “can’t say,” or “refused.” (Data from a 2010 post-election survey conducted in Bihar. See Milan Vaishnav, “Ethnic Identifiability: Evidence from a Survey of Indian Voters,” unpublished paper, Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2015)
When I asked local residents in dusty Punarakh about the Times of India story I had read that morning about Singh, many nodded their heads and shrugged. One upper-caste villager and Singh supporter reacted by saying: “Every election, reporters will write such stories. Do you think we need a reporter from Patna to tell us what is happening in Mokama? There is nothing in this we do not already know.” Indeed, virtually every voter I interviewed in Mokama was aware of Singh’s pending criminal cases, and many of them could recite specific alleged criminal acts in great detail.75 Voters were familiar with at least two incidents in particular. Although Anant Singh had not yet been convicted of any crime at the time of the election, voters in Mokama widely believed the allegations to be true.
The first incident was a 2004 shoot-out between Anant Singh’s men and special police commandos that broke out when the police attempted to raid Singh’s compound. According to interviews with several local residents who were Anant Singh supporters (and later confirmed by news accounts), the commandos were repelled by gunfire emanating from Singh’s compound, the walls of which were fitted with specially const
ructed holes through which guns could conveniently fit. The police were eventually forced to abort their operation.76
A second well-known incident occurred in 2007 when news reporters visited the same compound to question Singh about his alleged involvement in the rape and murder of a young woman found dead in Patna. Incensed at their probing questions, Singh and his men allegedly held the reporters captive for several hours in his house, assaulting them as well as a cameraman who came to investigate the reporters’ detention.77
The fact that voters were keenly aware of Singh’s alleged connection to illegal behavior reinforces the point Thomas Hansen made in his study of the Shiv Sena: under certain conditions, candidates who are accused of crimes go to great lengths to ensure that information—or at least rumors—about their alleged criminality is known to voters. A candidate’s criminal reputation must be well known to the public if he is to use it to either attract political patronage or build a support base of constituents.78
The Utility of Criminality
Anant Singh’s core support comes largely from fellow Bhumihars who think of him as a bold leader who can credibly protect their interests. Indeed, one local resident plainly remarked to a visiting reporter that the Bhumihar “dons” active in politics thrive because they effectively represent the interests of the upper castes.79 As the theory suggests, Singh’s criminal reputation signals his credibility to be an effective representative through each of the four channels previously identified: redistribution, coercion, social insurance, and dispute resolution.
Redistribution
For starters, many Bhumihars favored Anant Singh because they perceived that he was the only Bhumihar candidate (in a field with at least two other prominent caste-mates) with the ability to protect the economic interests of Mokama’s upper castes. In Mokama, land is the most highly prized economic asset, and Bhumihars as a group make up the bulk of the landed gentry, the most powerful of whom are former zamindars. In Mokama, backward-caste Yadavs traditionally worked as laborers on farms owned by Bhumihar landlords. As Yadavs gradually became empowered, they began to resist the traditional modes of landlord control and demonstrated their resentment over the Bhumihars’ monopoly on land.
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