India in Slow Motion, Review
By Mark Tully
Mark Tully can put up with an awful lot before he speaks his mind. His most famous example of this was the severe attack he meted out on the BBC’s leadership, and his subsequent resignation, after working as the company’s Indian correspondent for more than two decades. At the time, when Tully all but told John Birt to go stuff the job, I remember thinking how tragic it was: Tully had stood up and made a stand while those around him were too cowardly to do so. He had given up what he loved most in life – the BBC – because he loved it so much. He couldn’t keep quiet and watch what he regarded as the wrecking-ball of heinous corporate change. A few years have now passed, and Mark Tully is opening his mouth again. And, as before, the subject of change has prompted the outburst – but this time Tully’s speaking out because of the lack of change.
Saying that Mark Tully loved the BBC beyond all else is probably untrue. There is something that he has always admired far more deeply. It is, of course, India. In the handful of years since he caused eyebrows and hackles to be raised at TV Centre, Tully has been busy travelling through the Subcontinent with his partner Gillian Wright, looking closely at what’s going on. Whereas a journalist is generally expected to observe but not present a personal critique, INDIA IN SLOW MOTION (a joint effort between Tully and Wright) is an assessment of modern India, and the immense problems which engulf it.
The book makes for painful reading, especially to anyone who’s been bitten by the Indian bug. As you progress through it, you almost find yourself defending the chaos and the endemic corruption, or at least exclaiming that it can never be defeated. Tully’s point is simple – there are serious problems in India. They must be addressed, he says and, if tackled properly, they can be solved.
Top on his list for change is the goliath of what he calls ‘bad governance’. Most foreigner writers steer well clear of the subject of Indian government. But then Tully’s not silenced by the fear of not being PC. He cares about India too much to keep quiet.
The India that he and Wright present is known to anyone who has stepped foot on the Subcontinent. It’s perhaps the only single place on Earth which encompasses the full spectrum of human society. There are super-high-tech software design firms, cutting edge universities, and even a ‘space’ programme; but at the same time there’s astonishing poverty, and corruption on a stupendous scale. For Tully, these defects are holding the society back, keeping it in ‘slow motion’. Solve them, he says, and you will have a country of unlimited possibilities.
INDIA IN SLOW MOTION is packed with the awkward paradoxes of which the Subcontinent is made: like the remote village cyber-café built by an NGO, and being shut down because it hasn’t got the right licenses (god knows what use the locals had for the Internet anyway). Showcased, too, is the spine-tingling abyss of Indian politics. To the outsider, the nation’s democratic system is unimaginably complex and prone to corruption. One of the most interesting chapters, entitled ‘Corruption from Top to Tail’, highlights an Indian journalist’s undercover filming of bribe-riddled defence deals. It’s good material, and makes for the kind of scandal that the Indian audience relishes.
Other chapters read like self-contained essays, among them pieces on Goa, Kashmir, and on the Sufi mystics of Delhi. They give the feel of a travel narrative, but this is not a travel book in the usual sense. Much Indian ground is covered, but Tully’s journey is one whose mission is simple: to accumulate ammunition to support his main thesis. It takes him to the north Indian city Ayodhya where, in 1992, he and Gillian Wright witnessed the radical Hindu BJP party destroy Emperor Babur’s great mosque; and to Gujarat earlier this year when the same activists were burnt alive by Muslims as they returned from Ayodhya on the Sabarmati Express.
The book’s twists and turns introduce us to the many layers of Indian society, including the upper echelons of government which are usually closed to the foreign media. INDIA IN SLOW MOTION is what it is because Mark Tully’s not afraid of speaking out. He’s a champion of the big picture, and the kind of man whose message may not be understood or appreciated until it’s too late. The book deals with an extremely important subject, which Gillian Wright and he have tackled with straight-forward honesty. Tully’s considerable knowledge of the way in which India functions (and fails to function) provides him with the credentials to carry it off well. My only fear though is that such a book is likely to be scorned by the precise people who need to take note of its message most of all.
(C) Tahir Shah
Mark Tully can put up with an awful lot before he speaks his mind. His most famous example of this was the severe attack he meted out on the BBC’s leadership, and his subsequent resignation, after working as the company’s Indian correspondent for more than two decades. At the time, when Tully all but told John Birt to go stuff the job, I remember thinking how tragic it was: Tully had stood up and made a stand while those around him were too cowardly to do so. He had given up what he loved most in life – the BBC – because he loved it so much. He couldn’t keep quiet and watch what he regarded as the wrecking-ball of heinous corporate change. A few years have now passed, and Mark Tully is opening his mouth again. And, as before, the subject of change has prompted the outburst – but this time Tully’s speaking out because of the lack of change.
Saying that Mark Tully loved the BBC beyond all else is probably untrue. There is something that he has always admired far more deeply. It is, of course, India. In the handful of years since he caused eyebrows and hackles to be raised at TV Centre, Tully has been busy travelling through the Subcontinent with his partner Gillian Wright, looking closely at what’s going on. Whereas a journalist is generally expected to observe but not present a personal critique, INDIA IN SLOW MOTION (a joint effort between Tully and Wright) is an assessment of modern India, and the immense problems which engulf it.
The book makes for painful reading, especially to anyone who’s been bitten by the Indian bug. As you progress through it, you almost find yourself defending the chaos and the endemic corruption, or at least exclaiming that it can never be defeated. Tully’s point is simple – there are serious problems in India. They must be addressed, he says and, if tackled properly, they can be solved.
Top on his list for change is the goliath of what he calls ‘bad governance’. Most foreigner writers steer well clear of the subject of Indian government. But then Tully’s not silenced by the fear of not being PC. He cares about India too much to keep quiet.
The India that he and Wright present is known to anyone who has stepped foot on the Subcontinent. It’s perhaps the only single place on Earth which encompasses the full spectrum of human society. There are super-high-tech software design firms, cutting edge universities, and even a ‘space’ programme; but at the same time there’s astonishing poverty, and corruption on a stupendous scale. For Tully, these defects are holding the society back, keeping it in ‘slow motion’. Solve them, he says, and you will have a country of unlimited possibilities.
INDIA IN SLOW MOTION is packed with the awkward paradoxes of which the Subcontinent is made: like the remote village cyber-café built by an NGO, and being shut down because it hasn’t got the right licenses (god knows what use the locals had for the Internet anyway). Showcased, too, is the spine-tingling abyss of Indian politics. To the outsider, the nation’s democratic system is unimaginably complex and prone to corruption. One of the most interesting chapters, entitled ‘Corruption from Top to Tail’, highlights an Indian journalist’s undercover filming of bribe-riddled defence deals. It’s good material, and makes for the kind of scandal that the Indian audience relishes.
Other chapters read like self-contained essays, among them pieces on Goa, Kashmir, and on the Sufi mystics of Delhi. They give the feel of a travel narrative, but this is not a travel book in the usual sense. Much Indian ground is covered, but Tully’s journey is one whose mission is simple: to accumulate ammunition to support his main thesis. It takes him to the north Indian city Ayodhya where, in 1992, he and Gillian Wright witnessed the radical Hindu BJP party destroy Emperor Babur’s great mosque; and to Gujarat earlier this year when the same activists were burnt alive by Muslims as they returned from Ayodhya on the Sabarmati Express.
The book’s twists and turns introduce us to the many layers of Indian society, including the upper echelons of government which are usually closed to the foreign media. INDIA IN SLOW MOTION is what it is because Mark Tully’s not afraid of speaking out. He’s a champion of the big picture, and the kind of man whose message may not be understood or appreciated until it’s too late. The book deals with an extremely important subject, which Gillian Wright and he have tackled with straight-forward honesty. Tully’s considerable knowledge of the way in which India functions (and fails to function) provides him with the credentials to carry it off well. My only fear though is that such a book is likely to be scorned by the precise people who need to take note of its message most of all.
(C) Tahir Shah
posted by Mangorains at 5:35 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home