The Hindu Business Line : Goodbye, Mr Chidambaram

Mr P. Chidambaram’s exit from the Finance Ministry was too sudden. There wasn’t even enough time to give him a proper farewell. But here it is, says T. C. A. SRINIVASA-RAGHAVAN.

For the last five years I have deliberately not written about the former Finance Minister, Mr P. Chidambaram. But now that he is gone from the Finance Ministry — forever, perhaps — it seems right that one should make amends, not least because has gone unsung.

Among the many victims that the attack on Mumbai has claimed is Mr Chidambaram. His exit from the Finance Ministry, which should have been accompanied by a sharp coda of trumpets, was an all-too-silent fadeout. No proper farewell, no tearful speeches, no newspaper (or TV) wraps of his long innings — just a melancholy goodbye to all this.

The disappointment showed when he met the Press. My colleague reported what Mr Chidambaram said: “When the Prime Minister conveyed this decision to me, I would be less than honest if I do not say that I was disinclined. But in a situation like the one we find ourselves in, the final call is taken by the Party leader — in my case the Congress President (Ms Sonia Gandhi) and Prime Minister (Dr Manmohan Singh). I, therefore, answered the call of duty and I would move this afternoon to the Ministry of Home Affairs.”

PC, as he is known, was not a popular finance minister. Indeed, he is not popular — period. It is hard to find someone who will say a kind word about him. They will praise his professional skills, his dedication, his mastery of the brief, his comprehension — all that sort of thing.

But as a human being he came across as arrogant. And that is how he will be remembered. While speaking, he often sounded as if he thought he was talking to retards, but that is his manner. Several of his colleagues in the council of ministers have told me that they hated having to deal with him. “Tehzeeb ki kami hai”, one of them said, meaning he didn’t have very good manners. Another admitted that he hated having to meet him. He could be unforgiving, touchy and irritable. A very intrepid and very influential economist once told me she hated his sharpness and proneness to take offence where none was intended.

Loss of lustre

Mr Chidambaram presented eight budgets. Most of them were excellent. He cut taxes, rationalised them, and did what any minister can to tone up the departments that collect taxes. Left to himself he would have balanced the Budget but he served Sonia Gandhi a bit too well and allowed the fiscal deficit to go up to around 10 per cent when you take into account the off-budget tricks he played. Staying on as Finance Minister was more important to him. Perhaps he thought India would be worse off if someone else took over. But how has he left it better off? That depends on whether you think you regard a fiscal deficit of around 10 per cent as manageable or not.

So, one should ask him the question: politics may impose compulsions on a minister but does it also impose compulsions on the soul? Many people have asked this question of Dr Manmohan Singh. It seems fair to ask it of Mr Chidambaram as well. The result has been loss of lustre and credibility, for both men.

Sensex all-important?

Could it be that only the Sensex mattered to Mr Chidambaram? The word in the Finance Ministry was certainly that. Did the Finance Ministry intervene in the markets through the LIC, etc.? So the officials said. Was the RBI a pain in the neck for him? So it seemed to informed observers. Did he tell the public sector banks to fix interest rates as instructed? Of course he did. Was he a micro-manager? Apparently.

Was he impatient with the institutions in the financial sector? Often enough. Did he pack them with IAS men? Of course he did. SEBI, IRDA, RBI, and PFRDA — all have IAS officers at the top.

When people discussed Mr Chidambaram, which was almost continuously, the question often arose as to where he was coming from at issues: as an economist, which he was not; as a politician, which he was; as a lawyer, which also he was; or simply as an upper-class amateur with a strong sense of public duty and fair-play.

My own ranking would be in reverse order of this: upper-class amateur and lawyer primarily, who was not at heart quite a politician but still managed to win elections, and a man who understood little of technical economics. He did surround himself with economists, though. But how often did he heed them?

Good intent

In intent, though, he was always good. Much as he may have been disliked for his manner, in the end India was fortunate to have him rather than someone else. He will not be missed for some time yet, but when the storms begin to blow after the next general election, everyone will long for that slightly supercilious air of certitude, the patronising manner, the mastery of the brief and the deftness of touch.

Most of all, there were no flunkeys around him. You could see him at airports, standing quietly by himself, briefcase in hand.

Mr Chidambaram served India well in the Finance Ministry. If he didn’t do better — as with the deficit — it wasn’t altogether his fault.

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