Fly away Peter, fly away Paul

(An article in Economic Times on decision of the government to allow private airports in India)

Remember the old nursery rhyme which made little sense to us as kids but which we loved to sing because it had so much punch and we could act it out.

Two little dicky birds sitting on a wall, One named Peter, one named Paul, Fly Away Peter, Fly away Paul, Come Back Peter, Come Back Paul. The innocuous news item that the Union cabinet had given its clearance to the aviation ministry’s proposal to allow private parties to have their own airports and helipads, for their own exclusive use, and thus, as a consequence, not have to use public airports, completes the story that India’s Super Elite have finally seceded from the country. As practical as the proposal may appear, as convincing as its back-of-envelope calculations may suggest, the policy is deeply flawed, both morally and politically. It is yet another illustration that our policy community, at the highest levels, has succumbed to a flawed positivist mindset that only valorises the comfort of the wealthy. What is good for them is good for the country. This is in error. One needs only to look at Amartya Sen’s book Ethics and Economics, and the global debates in the area on normative concerns of economics, to know how flawed such thinking is. And yet it drives our policy-making as if the larger concerns of justice, and community solidarity and fraternity are of little relevance. This is a mindset that needs to be challenged and the innocuous news item, and the nursery rhyme, will help me do so. Let me elaborate. Three basic arguments have been forwarded for private airports. The first concerns simple pragmatics. It will reduce congestion at a time when our airports are getting overcrowded and since private planes take longer to land, by moving them out we will save landing time of the other aircraft. The second relates to safety. The aviation authorities will ensure that these airports will maintain the highest safety standards and so, for the flying public, there is no cause for anxiety. The third is a version of ‘he who pays the piper calls the tune’. As long as they pay for it they can have it. When seen from the perspective of the super elite these are sound reasons. Since they will have saved time and discomfort, they can get back to the business of generating wealth. This, as the argument goes, is good for the country. But is it? Are things so straightforward? When seen from a host of other perspectives the policy seems perverse. Take the secessionist argument which holds that the policy encourages the super-elite to live life in a bubble. From the helipad at the top of the corporate headquarters, to another helipad in the factory complex, to perhaps a private airport for a journey to Delhi, the captains of industry can journey across the country without having to meet, or rub shoulders with, or even see the ordinary Indian, let alone experience the minimal existential reflections on the lives of those who live in the slums they have to drive through on their way to the airport. Those people, in many cases, might be their own workers. They will thus never know the possible causes that have reduced to a life of indignity those who beg at red-light crossings, or the conditions of the villagers who have to walk for miles for water, or the anxieties of our rural youth as they search for a space between the rural and urban. The helipad has airbrushed the poor Indian from the lives of our super-elite. They can now sit in oak-panelled boardrooms as they plan India’s growth story without the smells and sounds and colours of India. The Mahatma’s train journey has no lesson for them nor does the more recent yatras of Rahul Gandhi. Why subject them to a little existential angst? How can they script India’s rise if they have to face a little discomfort at a public airport? So not only are India’s poor being airbrushed from the lives of our super rich, but also the aspiring middle class in ill-fitting jeans and cheap French perfumes as they wait for their flights in pursuit of the next sales target or the next LTC. The middle classes, the foot soldiers of Indian industry, are also a nuisance. So, who do the super-elite meet? People like themselves only. The faceless lackeys, who make it possible, fade into the wall paper. This is bad not just for Indian democracy, because we will have a class of very powerful people who have lived very insulated lives, but also for them since they will have lost access to the diversity of India and life itself. And once this is permitted it will produce a cascading ‘me too’ trend. From the ‘biggies’ of industry the policy will produce similar aspirations among the ‘wannabes’ of the corporate world. Just look at the 176% growth of in the luxury car segment in January and February 2008, as compared to the same period last year, and the number of Indians queuing up to purchase a residence in Palazzo Versace in Dubai, to get a sense of the magnitude of this ‘me too’ phenomenon. And if corporate India can have private airports then why not the political class? And the senior bureaucracy? Surely their comfort and time is also important? So what began with private housing enclaves, then moving on to private schools, then private hospitals, has now extended to private airports. A life in a bubble. And for leisure, it’s the yachts in Goa! If this is not secession, what is? There is another important concern. Private airports will require a lot of land. The country has just witnessed political movements on the SEZ policy requiring the government to take corrective measures and in some cases reverse its decisions. Again the poor farmer will have to give up prime land with the Land Acquisition Act being used to get (let me get it right) private land for a public purpose for a private airport. This is perverse. Taking land from the poor and giving it to the rich for the benefit of the poor! Why not just improve our public airports so that all air travellers can benefit? A little discomfort will not hurt the super-elite too much. And it will also make flying, for us poor sods, a bit more exciting to see our icons in the same security queue as us. Oh the nursery rhyme, I forgot. The new policy wants to stop at the third line of the rhyme: ‘fly away Peter, fly away Paul’. I want to stop at the fourth ‘come back Peter, come back Paul’.