I have taken great pains this semester to attempt to understand the Indian bureaucratic system; whether it be the government, my university, or out in the private sector. It all started when I arrived in the country and was asked to procede to the local Foreign Regional Registration Office (FRRO), to re-register upon a new arrival in the country for a renewed residency permit. You see, according to the permit, I must forfeit it upon leaving the country, which I forgot to do. Thus, technically I should not have had one, and therefore needed a new one according to customs upon entry in Delhi. So, I had to enroll first at JNU, which I could not do without a student ID, which was stolen in Mumbai, which was not easily replaceable. First, I had to go to my Center to register for classes, but that was not possible until I had gone to the library to get clearance from them saying I had no outstanding books or fines, which they could not do unless I had a student ID from my School, which I could not get until I registered for classes with my Center. But before I could indulge myself in this bureaucratic love triangle, I found it was all irrelevant as I had to go to the Police Station to file a report saying my card was stolen and that they should “take any and all necessary actions in the matter.” I asked the School why this must be done, and they said it was in case any imposters were out there trying to register in my stead. Surely there isn’t another 6’3” white guy walking around with a reddish beard with 2 months worth of growth? But perhaps there was, so the police took all necessary actions, and upon my arrival they stamped a copy of my letter for me to show the university and threw the original away. Looking back, I was hoping they could at least pretend to file it until I left. Anyway, two days later, 8 office visits of the love triangle later, and then forcing the three offices to call each other until they were all sufficiently satisfied that I was in fact a student, I got to continue with the registration process. This involved another 6 identical forms for which I needed three signatures. When I asked what the forms were for, each respective office replied, “We’re not really sure, perhaps it is in case we need to access your information.” To which I always asked, “Why not use the computer network?” To which they usually laughed and said something along the lines of, “You really think that would work? Just because we have computers doesn’t mean we know how to use them for such things. What do you think they’ll do…fire us all and replace us all?” generally followed by more laughter…Well, when that was done, I had to get signatures from my hostel, from my meal hall, from my Center, and then from my School once more. I finally prepared my papers and went to the FRRO. I got there at three; they close at six. I asked to make sure I needed to submit the documents and that I had everything necessary. Well, they only had 8 people to process in front of me and failed to do so in three hours. So, I had to come back the next morning, and after another 5 hours (well, four including an hour lunch break), they finally saw me only to laugh and tell me I didn’t actually have to go there at all, that the old residence permit would be just fine, and that they apologized that customs and the man at the front desk had not been informed of such policies.
I tried to get a bank account and went through the same type of process for a week with numerous other addendums to the above story – a lot of it also involving the School, Center, Hostel, etc. Just to get a piece of paper with the JNU letterhead to write a letter to a bank, I had to write a letter to get the letterhead. Then had to write a practice letter to say what the letter should say so that they could write the letter for me. But then the guy that writes the letters was busy and requested I write the letter myself. And then the guy signing the letter accidentally spilled coffee on it, so I had to go write a letter to write a letter to write a letter again…
There are two points to arise out of these stories:
First, the way in which I treated bureaucrats last semester was with friendliness and respect. I laughed with their lame jokes, I kissed their asses, and they usually responded quite well. They knew they didn’t actually have to do anything for me, so they wanted me to acknowledge each this as a favor. It worked well. This semester, I don’t like what I’ve become. From the above, it would seem that I got pushed around a lot, but realistically, it became less and less the case. After showing them the tolerance of friendship and respect, I realized that quickly following up with an angry, pointed, and 100% degrading demeanor was the way to get anything done. I had to treat them like the British did, like I was a superior white person, and sadly, that’s how my most critical breakthroughs always arose – was through old-colonial intimidation and attitude. It bothers me a lot, because it’s against everything I stand for, but then again, it also works, and it continues to work just about everywhere. Whites are given a certain degree of reverence; like we are something rich, powerful, and special. We aren’t, but somehow that has been engrained in some people’s heads and they respond to that.
Second, another astonishing discovery with the bureaucratic structure here is that it’s largely confirmed and supported by the younger generations. I get upset when talking about bureaucracy, not because it’s annoyingly tedious, but because my fellow students refuse to acknowledge my points and disagree that the processes are unnecessary. Yet, they can never actually produce a reason for why things are done the way they are done except than to say, “This is how my parents said they do it,” or “this is how it’s always been done” or “this is just what you have to do.” There’s a couple of things to draw from this. I primarily believe that the appeal to parents and tradition is the key point. Indians have incredible respect for their parents, homes, traditions, religion, etc. They do not like to question the way in life that has been set for them. Even with my experience of second generation or maybe even third generation Indians of America this holds true. It’s just unfortunate that this attitude has been extended towards granting leniency on the some of the systems here that are in obvious need of reform (or perhaps that’s just my obnoxiously arrogant Western perspective flaring up again). The second, is that if the youth don’t question these things, who will? Is it so desirable that so much respect be granted to former generations that it jeopardizes your own sense of individuality and creativity. To this, I would argue that many fall into this “trap” (again, a matter of perspective perhaps). It’s the same attitude I see in class each day where students read, write, and repeat their way to success without truly assessing or analyzing that which they’re taught. I have a hard time identifying true revolutionaries or thinkers amongst a campus that prides itself on its revolutionary, intellectual base.
Regardless, the moral of the story is that the Indian bureaucracy can be a mess. There is a double standard applied to foreigners and locals where the foreigners need only pretend to be colonial British to get things done, and where the Indians go with the flow not because they enjoy it, understand it, or believe in it, but because it seems they’ve never stopped to consider otherwise.