Top politics is India’s most gated community; and so the rising outsider instantly piques public imagination
Prashant Kishor has worked closely with the full spectrum of India’s electoral alphabet soup: BJP, INC, JDU, DMK, TMC, YSR and many more. Pic/AFP
So the story goes—soon as he’d succeeded as a political strategist between 2012 and mid 2014 for the PM aspirant Narendra Modi, Prashant Kishor (nee Pandey) asked the BJP president Amit Shah, “After May, what?” After May, Shah said, not missing a beat: “June.”
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It’s an assertion that Kishor, 44, has repeatedly denied. Suggesting he and Modi parted ways, because of a broken promise of establishing a corporate like think-tank/set-up, operating within the PMO—blueprint of which was mapped with help of management consultants Accenture and McKinsey. PM Modi had other matters to take care of, upon his appointment. Kishor got impatient and left.
As a rule, Kishor also believes only a person “under (constitutional) oath” must directly interfere in the working of government. Which of course doesn’t match with his idea of parallel consultants, reporting to the PM.
The point, I guess, was to laterally induct into the government (even if temporarily) the most accomplished domain experts, in place of a highly generalist, permanent Indian civil service that lords over decision-making in bureaucratic India.
He believes, for a reason, almost all major state-sponsored ‘revolutions’ in post-independent India—telecom (Sam Pitroda), space (Vikram Sarabhai), missile programme (APJ Abdul Kalam), ‘green revolution’ (MS Swaminathan), ‘white revolution’ (Verghese Kurien), Aadhaar (Nandan Nilekani)—have been led by specialists/lateral entrants, after all.
As for entering electoral politics, for too long, India’s educated, upper class has believed it’s something other people, namely ‘politicians’ do. Only 7-8 per cent of parliamentarians, Kishor reckons, are under 40 (it was about 23 per cent in the first/1952 Lok Sabha). Of which, anyway, about 70 per cent come from ‘political families’. Around 17 per cent MPs are over 70—that number was negligible (around 1 per cent) in the first three Lok Sabhas. Fruits of labour appear too far.
Also, I suspect, you can rise in electoral politics, only if squarely committed to caste or religion-based parties, if not wholly smitten by an ideology, unless serving in a top-heavy GOP like Congress that, for decades, has attempted to be everything to everyone!
Full-time politics seems a profession fraught with umpteen risks, so why bother, if you have other options, parents would say. Same with popular arts/entertainment. Therefore professional dynasties, with inter-generational experience (plus savings), have traditionally prospered in both, leaving less room for fresh air. Emergence of Aam Aadmi Party (2012) in the half-state of Delhi (and neighbouring Punjab) is an exception that proves the rule.
Kishor’s consultancy firm, I’m told, temporarily hires a couple of thousand interested minds, some of them from India’s best colleges (IITs, etc), before elections, to become part of the political process, without permanently aligning with a party. Kishor is the sole face of his firm—we haven’t heard of no. two/three, no?
Likewise his campaigns are based around personality cults, with on-ground programmes called “modules”, specific policy promises, social-media polemic, data-crunching to gauge public mood, and occasional negative planks (‘outsider’/ ‘insider’ for a leader; both in Bengal and Bihar), to emotively hook the potential voter.
He politically identifies himself as “left of centre”, which, I guess, economically, is pretty much all desi parties. He’s worked closely hence with the full spectrum of India’s electoral alphabet soup: BJP, INC, JDU, DMK, TMC, YSR… Clearly rival politicians, as a class, are hardly as adversarial in real life as they pretend in public.
That Kishor has an enviable electoral success rate, often against heavy odds, tells you more about India’s voter, than its political parties. And that, with all things equal, if you put your heart and head to it, you can chart a common route to the top—only, no situations vacant. So you do it for established others.
As has Kishor, who’s a Bihar-born, initially Patna Science College drop-out son of a doctor. In 2011, he published a paper on malnutrition in India’s highest income states—Gujarat, ranking the lowest on it—sitting in Chad, in north-central Africa, where he was a bureaucrat for the UN.
Modi, then Gujarat CM, had a word with him. In 2012, he moved in to the CM’s home, ostensibly working on health policy, then writing speeches for Modi, heading a newly formed digital division...
Since 2014, he’s switched from black T-shirt, jeans (consultant casual) to white kurta-pajama (politician uniform; joining Nitish Kumar’s JDU, briefly), then back to black tees, and announcing his retirement from consultancy yet again.
In less than a decade, pollsters, ‘pundits’ and journalists look up to him as a phenomenon of sorts. Which is spectacular, only when you consider a profession dominated by either ‘grass-root’ geriatrics with command over a loyal cadre, their chamchas, or their progeny, with a fair and natural gold-pass into this complex universe.
An anomaly obviously piques public interest. Usually backroom bosses are faceless. Kishor made his first public appearance (at Hyderabad’s ISB) only in 2018. Bingeing over several hours of his interviews online, you find him smartly simplifying realities of India’s politics, with plain-speak; only never getting personal. That’s an asset.
Except that rare moment, when coaxed to point out Modi’s one personality flaw, he says, “not benevolent” (enough); Shah, more recently, he called an “over-rated election/political manager.” Woah.
Mayank Shekhar attempts to make sense of mass culture. He tweets @mayankw14
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