* The reality of right to information *
NAVAZ KOTWAL
A revelatory session with the officers who are supposed to implement the
Right to Information Act.
*
*
"Madam, yeh *jo Nagrik hein na woh sabse bada nuisance hein kyunki woh
sarkar ko apna kaam nahin karne deta hein*." This is the considered opinion
of my trainee public information officer at the village lev el. He's had to
sit through a whole day listening to me going on about the importance of the
new Right to Information Act, open government, fullest disclosure, reducing
corruption, helping the poor and he is sure the heat's gone to my head. But
now enough is enough. He thinks I am naïve and wants to set me straight.
Damn the citizen. He doesn't care just as long as they don't come asking
things.
Nothing has changed
It's been more than 20 months since the "legendary" law was passed.
Governance is supposed to change. But the oxygen of democracy hasn't woken
up the lower officialdom. *Mai baap* is still comatose. Government swears
they have all been to training. I am just giving them a bit more -- it's all
in the name of the people's government. But the 50-odd -- and believe me they
are odd -- officials are not about to give up their so long held ignorance
without a strong fight.
The first hour tells me they know nothing about the Act. They don't know
what information can be given; they don't know what should be withheld; they
have little ideas about fees, rules, applications, formats, timelines or
penalties. The second hour tells me that all they want to know is how not to
give information, what information cannot be given and can information be
denied to some people. They are not even willing to consider providing the
information that is supposed to be published by government departments all
over the country by law.
Government property
They honestly believe that all information belongs to the government and
should be held closely by its guardians. They can't imagine how citizens are
entitled to it. I explain: They are public servants. They collect
information only for public purposes -- not for their own purposes.
Information is collected, organised, collated, and stored with public money,
which also pays for their salaries. I repeat, you are public servants. The
public is the owner of the information. The idea is radical. But it sinks
like a stone. They stare back at me. I may have logic. They have power. They
are unconvinced.
They try another tack -- the well-trodden path of all public servants from
judge to police to collector to mamlatdar. "We are overburdened. We have a
hundred things to do. Now this additional burden of providing information.
Government is busy making laws -- implementation falls upon us. Our service
conditions are bad, we have no infrastructure, no facilities, one order from
our senior and leave all other work and attend to him. And now an
information request comes in and we have to start fulfilling the request."
They viewed the Act with deep suspicion and requesters of information with
even more fear and loathing. Villagers, they explained to me patiently, are
not all that innocent. Twenty years' experience convinces that in fact they
were downright wicked. It's the baddies who come around asking awkward
questions. The good ones beg humbly and get it from them anyways. The others
only ask so they can sell the information and they were damned if they were
going to be trained into helping *aam nagriks* (ordinary people) make money
at their expense. Of course the fact that they made money on nearly every
small transaction like providing a villager a free below-poverty-line
application form was passed off lightly as a perk of a dull job and tedious
existence. I point out that I myself, madam from the city, have asked for
information: about birth certificates, about ration cards, about public
works in my neighbourhood. I tell them about one incident.
It took me a dozen visits to the office before I could actually give in my
application. Either the officer was not there, or his clerk was away or
there was no electricity. Finally when I got the power in the chair, his
duty was clear: "Madam," he said, "a successful officer is one who never
says no and never does anything". That way he never gets into trouble. Madam
*duniya aasha pe jeeti hein*. You also keep the faith. You may just get the
information one day." With a little bribe of course I could always get the
information. But if it was the kind of information that would show up
malpractices then it was never going to be given. At my story's end there
was no comment. Perhaps my audience was pondering the wisdom of the
Successful Officer or filing him away as a model for future use.
Duty-bound to disclose
The afternoon was wearing on. I was getting impatient with the
stone-walling and excuses. Did they know they had a duty to disclose, I
asked. Did they know about Section IV and proactive disclosure: that is
information which departments must make available even without any request?
Information about a department's organisation, functions and duties, the
power and duties of its officers with their remunerations, the procedure
followed in the decision making process, channels of supervision and
accountability, the norms set by it for the discharge of its functions, the
rules, regulations, instructions, manuals and records, held by it or under
its control or used by its employees for discharging its functions and a
statement of the categories of documents that are held by it or under its
control was to be prepared and made available and accessible to all by
October12, 2005. Every department was given 120 days to get this information
ready.
Did they know I asked? Clearly they did not. Well, I said slowly. Did they
know that they could be hauled up before the state information commissioner
and may personally have to pay a fine that can go from Rs. 250 to Rs.
25,000. There was a slow stirring. This was information to be absorbed. The
sudden angst in those sluggish eyes, I have to say, gave me a moment's
pleasure. But then I thought, how could it be different.
Old habits
Here, sitting before me was 4,000 years of certainty that power belongs to
rulers. Their entire training only reinforced their position as legitimate
power holders. It taught them to differentiate between "us" and "them" and
carry that mindset through decades in service. Even now no one in authority
was telling them any different and here I was asserting my right to question
their behaviour. It was pure effrontery. But, like it or not, the law is the
law. It is here to stay. Disobey at your peril. I thought I had made a
difference. But then on second thoughts I was quite sure that I had not.
* Navaz Kotwal is Programme Coordinator, Commonwealth Human Rights
Initiative.*
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"Ours is a battle not for wealth or for power.
It is a battle for freedom. It is a battle for the reclamation of human
personality."
- Dr BR Ambedkar
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