https://www.outlookindia.com/national/the-house-always-wins-magazine-287724
One of the most farcical episodes in Indian electoral history occurred during the 2019 Goa state elections, in the race for the Panjim seat left vacant by Manohar Parrikar, the late defence minister and all-time favourite of Narendra Modi. Although the BJP had comfortably retained the state capital for a solid quarter century, it rendered itself vulnerable by spurning the ambitions of Utpal Parrikar, the late minister’s son, and instead choosing the widely reviled Sidharth Kuncalienker, who was senior Parrikar’s long-time aide, and is considered by most Goans to be the primary culprit in tarnishing the legacy of his former boss. Facing off against this notably unpopular campaigner was Atanasio ‘Babush’ Monserrate, strongman of neighboring Taleigao, who had joined the Congress after a whistlestop career between four other parties in three different constituencies. Although he already controlled the city municipality – where his son Rohit is mayor – Babush had never been able to shake Parrikar’s stranglehold on Panjim. But now, sensing his opportunity, he proceeded to galvanize the elections by tapping into the issue on which the people’s will has been stubbornly thwarted for an entire generation: “I promise to remove the casinos from the Mandovi River within the first 100 days of taking office.” Bedlam ensued, as every other candidate recognized the winning factor. AAP candidate Valmiki Naik had already made a similar pledge, but now the Congress made it their main plank, with state chief Girish Chodankar promising “Babush has given his word, and we will do exactly as he says. Our manifesto is a holy book for us, and not something to only seek votes.” Then, former RSS leader Subhash Velingkar (who had been Manohar Parrikar’s mentor before falling out) of Goa Suraksha Manch also promised *casino-mukt* Panjim: “they have destroyed the city with their presence, and with the ethical and social ills they propagate. I promise to do away with them. They have not only disturbed society and culture of the entire state but are also polluting the Mandovi with their wastes. We will send them into the deep sea.” Faced with this unanimity, and evidently limitless public antipathy about casinos, the ruling party now added its own surreal twist. In an astonishing volte-face, considering its own government had held unshakable sway in Goa for an entire legislative term, and had also controlled the crucial Panjim seat for 25 years, the BJP switched up its own gears. The state unit president (and Rajya Sabha member) Vinay Tendulkar lectured a bemused public that “the party's demand is that offshore casinos should be shut. If people don't want onshore casinos, which function from five-star hotels, they too will be closed. We have been assured that the government is thinking about it and that when the time comes, we will the shut casinos down.” In this rare moment of political consensus, with everyone backslapping everyone else congratulations that the casinos were as good as gone, one rather colourful character was totally unimpressed. This is Narinder Punj, the “chief visionary officer and mentor” of then brand-new Big Daddy casino owned by Gopal Kanda, the MLA from Sirsa in Haryana, whose career trajectory has been neatly summarized by the *Times of India* as “electrician, shoe shop owner, real estate broker, industrialist, car dealer, Tara Baba devotee, airline owner and politician.” In an electric interview with Mayabhushan Nagvenkar of *IANS*, Punj explained that casinos were actually unassailable in Panjim, no matter what shenanigans were underway in on the campaign trail. “Casinos have been an issue in every election,” noted Punj, “so now in Panjim you have Babush Monserrate who is saying within 100 days I am going to get casinos out. Actually, we have heard that before from Parrikar. He used to stand outside the Caravela [the first “offshore” casino in Goa] with a mashal. Ater elections, it is totally different. It won't be long before the people that speak against us, come with us. Over two decades I have seen it. People who have opposed you, come with you.” What was left unsaid, here, of course, is the arm-twisting and inducements necessary to manufacture the kind of political consensus Punj was talking about, with supreme confidence his writ would continue to apply. In fact, the game was already over in Goa: “awarding a licence to any operator in any other state, it could topple the government, because there is still public resentment against casinos. So most governments are very wary. Most governments, or most ruling parties are very wary about giving out licences.” Looking back from 2023, it is amply evident that Punj was right and everything else in 2019 was just smoke and mirrors. To give him whatever credit is due, Babush Monserrate did make initial noises about removing the casinos, and even made a show of clearing away some encroachments. But before those first 100 days were up, he had jumped ship along with 9 other legislators from Congress to the BJP (in an additional embarrassment, this cohort included the Leader of the Opposition, Chandrakant “Babu” Kavlekar), which had already jettisoned its temporary opposition to the casinos. Lots of sound and fury expended, but in the end it was right back to business as usual for the gambling lobby. It is not only that one election, because nigh-identical antics have prevailed about casinos in Goa throughout the past two decades. They are continually triggered by two linked but somewhat contradictory factors. The first is the way casinos operate everywhere in the world where they manage to gain foothold: gambling produces pipelines of pure cash that prove impossible to fully regulate (which is made significantly easier in Goa by the lack of any meaningful controls), and are inevitably used to subvert oversight, by buying support from police and political cadres. On the other hand, by so thoroughly purchasing the leadership, casinos encourage organized crime – including prostitution and human trafficking – which has the effect of turning public opinion against them. This is what has happened in Goa, where everyone has seen the damage up-close, and wants no part of it any longer. The result is an interesting conundrum: every politician decries casinos because they cannot win otherwise, and then turns 180 degrees after taking office, because that is how the system works. How long can this bizarre situation last, with the democratic will of the people endlessly thwarted by politicians promising one thing with the full intention of delivering another? That question goes beyond casinos to the nature of Indian democracy, where legislative majorities are routinely kidnapped, extorted and bought rather than earned at the ballot box, as is the case in Goa, where Pramod Sawant’s ostensibly BJP government is an extraordinary grab-bag of serial turncoats and serious-crimes-accused seeking shelter from prosecution. They have grown accustomed to brazenly promising anything to anyone, and delivering exactly zero with the full confidence of getting away with it. In this yawning vacuum of democratic norms and procedure, the only authority still feared by Sawant and company is the BJP high command, which brings us directly to the latest theatre of the absurd that has been playing out regarding casinos in this year of G-20 posturing, starting with the Prime Minister’s visit to Goa in December. Overnight, all of the grotesque casino come-hither that was egregiously (and illegally) plastered across the Mandovi riverfront of Panjim was taken down or covered up. It turned out that, just like the Goan people, Narendra Modi also dislikes their cheap vulgarity, and none of Goa’s politicians dared to risk his ire. Speaking for the broad consensus, the building conservationist, researcher and writer Poonam Verma Mascarenhas (disclosure: we are both members of the non-profit Goa Heritage Action Group) told me that “it was not just a visual relief to see the casino signage removed, but something much deeper. The sight represented, and still represents, a glimmer of hope that our cultural devastation is not yet permanent. We all know every signage matters: that visuals impact neurons which shape the intellect, so just think about what message has continually been transmitted to our children from every ten metres on every road. Now, at this juncture, it’s very clear the taking down of casino advertising was an acknowledgement of wrongdoing by the city and state authorities. If they replace it all after the leaders leave, it will be an equally open proof of their apathy, and total negligence towards the society they have supposedly taken an oath to serve.” Rather interestingly, some of the signage did come back after the PM departed, but it is now less obtrusive. What is more, when the G-20 officials from many different countries started pouring into India’s smallest state over the past month, there has been another wave of assiduous covering up, which indicates that Sawant and company understand how badly their own actions reflect on them. The only remaining question is whether they will continue to behave when G-20 is over, and the high command is no longer regularly flying in and out of Goa. I would not bet on it. -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Goa-Research-Net" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to [email protected]. To view this discussion on the web, visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/goa-research-net/CAN1wPW7NUMWoQWeBCjTFwnzuawRWrvajqLZkTuu-3UB6omVTXg%40mail.gmail.com.
