Fairness is the first casualty when people talk about someone who is cocky, intelligent, talented and somehow important (not necessarily in that order). There is something about a VS Naipaul or a Mani Shankar Aiyar that can shatter the illusions of being thick-skinned which journalists have about themselves.When speaking their minds, both can lash out at big shots (and for that matter, anyone) with the same acidic tongue which editorial bosses and senior journalists use while dealing with subordinate staff in their offices. But, the fact is that for different reasons both are significant figures for our engagement with the world of letters and ideas. And that is what should matter if we want to have a measure of their contributions (in varying degrees) to the different shades of discourse in our times.

The irrelevance of some bruised egos and non-literary considerations for evaluating the literary genius of VS Naipaul is something that I had dwelt on in an earlier article. Similarly,  the pointlessness of a vicarious sense of  hurt or indignation (or foible-centric accounts  of diatribes featuring Mani Shankar Aiyar) must not come in the way of understanding and enagaging  with Mani as one of the last surviving (and isolated) voices of Nehruvian worldview in a political party which has embraced neo-liberal, market fundamentalism in its policy outlook.  First, let us dissect the anatomy of the grouses and even visceral dislike that some people have for him (interestingly, in doing so people reveal more about themselves than about Mani).

Mani doesn’t fit the Indian Media’s Definition of a Complete Man

For some reasons which make him an extraordinary public figure, Mani Shankar Aiyar has no pretensions of being humble.  Also, he is not a man who can conform to your idea of a good guest mouthing sweet nothings or bleeding-heart outrage. And journalists beware, he doesn’t shy away from rubbing it in if you have not been to Doon, St Stephen’s or Oxford/ Cambridge.  In case you have attended any of these institutions (especially in the decades- 50s, 60s and 70s) and are still only a senior journalist,  Mani would remind you about your failure in clearing  or timidity in not attempting the Civil Services  examination (he did well enough in the examination to attain a high rank required for joining the Indian Foreign Service). One may recall that even after attending St Stephen’s, and despite being armed with a D.Phil from Oxford University, Chandan Mitra (Editor, The Pioneer) was at the receiving end of this acerbic comment from Mani in a panel discussion: “Journalists are people who either flunked or funked civil services examination”.  But, despite his apparent penchant for institutional exclusivities (which some would find closer to snobbery or elitism), Mani has a more egalitarian understanding of his immediate milieu and the cultural context of discourse in the public domain than he is credited with.  One may revisit the article he wrote for Outlook(Does it Play in Deoria?, October 5, 2009) in which Mani , with a college senior tone, chided fellow Stephanian , Shashi Tharoor for his rather naïve and callous  understanding of the world outside St Stephen’s college while peddling humour on Twitter.

Mani Shankar Aiyar is an unsettling public figure, even a misfit, for the journalistic judgments which place an obsessive premium on humility as a virtue. Manu Joseph, perhaps the only Indian journalist  (in English media) with a genuine talent for writing,  has made this incisive observation about the journalistic “search” for humility in celebrities which seems apt even about how journalists judge all public figures (even non-celebrities) – “No other nation is as fond of this line: ‘What strikes you about him is his humility’. It is a compliment usually given to a celebrity with good manners, who has made a journalist feel comfortable, who has offered him a glass of water to drink…And his self-centered caution that ensures he does not always speak his mind, are we misinterpreting that disappointing aspect of his personality for humility? He might be humble, as somehow required by all his devotees, but my point is we don’t know”. On this count, Mani doesn’t disappoint- he often speaks his mind, some offended journalists can’t take it.

It’s rather interesting to recall that when Mani Shankar Aiyar became an important part of efforts to unearth the Commonwealth Games scam, media houses were more than eager to report his sharply worded barbs against Suresh Kalmadi. When a reporter once asked him about the arguments Kalmadi was making in his defence, Mani retorted: “He is a bloody liar”. Television channels gleefully lapped it up, and played it through the evening. Mani’s acerbic words became the flavour of anti-Kalmadi media rhetoric for the evening. Ironically, nobody was complaining about Mani’s sharp tongue.

But, the thing about candour is that it has selective reception. Its acceptability is often decided by a variable- who is at the receiving end. If you aren’t pre-determined about your sympathies in the spat Mani Shankar Aiyar had with journalist Tavleen Singh on  NDTV24X7’s  panel discussion last week, it’ s very difficult to understand how Mani was wrong in what he was saying and how he responded when provoked by being called “insensitive”. As if there were a device to measure the intrinsic moral worth of an argument,  Mani’s simple point of reposing faith in the legitimacy of judicial process as a grievance redressal system in a democratic system (as opposed to kangaroo justice) was dismissed as cynical. His retort on being called “insensitive and cynical”centred  around calling the journalist ‘gossipy’ and declaring that he never had any respect for her- both are opinions that Mr Aiyar is  as much entitled to have as someone is entitled to judge his sensitivity and cynicism.  In fact, what was the only thing worrisome about that panel discussion, and which has almost become a farcical trend in television news shows is this: the swing from “disputable” to “incontrovertible” becomes a matter of minutes, and in the outrage-driven zeal for having a consensus (or unanimity) anyone with a different (or contrarian) view is presented with the farce of a fait accompli– is there anything left to argue?  Mani can often sense such farce.

Sorry, Mr Guha. Mani is important for our engagement with Nehruvian worldview.  The political class needs his voice, we need to listen.

Speaking on the current crop of political thinkers in India at India Habitat Centre in the capital three years ago, historian Ramachandra Guha made an unprovoked remark : “Now don’t tell me that Mani Shankar Aiyar is a  political thinker, what thought  emerged when he was  working in the PMO during Rajiv Gandh’s tenure?”.Mr Guha’s jibe was less influenced by historical reasoning and more by what he thought about Mani’s proximity to a former Prime Minister or maybe his personal experiences of some of Mani’s blown-out-of proportion foibles. In fact, the truth is far more interesting than the limits Guha has put on it. Mani might not be original in his contributions to political thought but the  fact remains that he stuck to his Nehruvian convictions despite his close association with Rajiv Gandhi (who had sown seeds of economic liberalisation far earlier than we think-  in the 80s before it became substantive in the 90s). Mani has never been comfortable with the neo-liberal thrust in economic policy which somehow enjoys a consensus across party lines barring the left.

His critique of the trickle-down model of economic development is distinctly Nehruvian in its point of departure from what his party has been pursuing for more than two decades now. In that sense, he serves as a reference point for left-of-centre discourse in the party. With the moral pomposity of the phrase “inclusive growth” increasingly becoming a vacuity in the face of the government’s renewed emphasis on market reforms, Mani Shankar Aiyar’s voice may remind us that there are relics of a Socialist compass still tucked in some corner of the party office. The need to reach out to him becomes more important because distinct voices like his are increasingly getting isolated and outshouted by the votaries of market economy.

The Nehruvian imprint on Mani Shankar Aiyar’s foreign policy discourse is evident. His stint in hard nosed diplomacy as an IFS officer didn’t wean him away from his belief in the constituents of edifying moralism with which Nehru shaped the formative years of India’s foreign policy after independence- pacifism, third world solidarity, nuclear disarmament, the continued relevance of NAM(even in a unipolar or multipolar world order), international cooperation for poverty alleviation and creating conditions for an egalitarian world order. In the ways India’s political class sees the world beyond our borders, Mani remains our link to Nehru’s internationalist statesmanship.

And perhaps in a more sustained way, Mani’s relentless articulation of the core Nehruvian understanding of India’s pluralistic society and its multiculturalism is an effective antidote to the polarised discourse of our times. His work, Confessions of a Secular Fundamentalist (Penguin, 2005) reflects on the essence and humanism of India’s pursuit of secularism and its pluralistic foundations with remarkable  insight and erudition. None other than writer Nayantara Sahgal, Pandit Nehru’s niece, dedicated her book –Jawaharlal Nehru: Civilizing a Savage World (2010) in memory of Jawaharlal Nehru – to “Mani Shankar Aiyar who speaks the same language”.

Whenever the terms of engagement can go beyond the vacuities of who said what to whom, Mani Shankar Aiyar would be a significant presence for addressing and debating the key political questions confronting the Indian republic. The irrelevance of his idiosyncrasies to an assessment of his place in political discourse of our times needs to be understood. If some people can’t understand that, it tells a thing or two about their approach to their own insecurities and inadequacies. And for Mani, only one piece of unsolicited advice. Next time when someone calls you a cynic, take it as a compliment  because as Ousep Chacko, a key character  in Manu Joseph’s brilliant work The Illicit Happiness of Other People,  rightly says – “Only a misanthrope can have clarity”.