Thursday, 26 May 2016

Bank on the brink

There is much talk these days around consolidation[kun,só-li'dey-shun(integration,सुदृढ़ीकरण)] in public sector banks (PSBs). There are good reasons for fewer and bigger PSBs. Larger PSBs can support the corporate sector better in overseas acquisitions, bigger banks are less susceptible[su'sep-tu-bul(sensitive,सवेंदनशील)] to being taken over by outsiders (if government ever ceded[seed(surrender,समर्पित)] control) and large synergies are available in mergers that could alleviate capital requirements. In India, moreover, there is a certain jingoist[jing-gow-ist(extreme nationalist,कट्टर राष्ट्रवादी)] thrill in being able to say that we have a few banks that are globally significant.

But there could not be a worse time for this talk. When bank portfolios are uniformly strained[streynd(tensed,तनावपूर्ण)], as they are today, mergers can accentuate[ak'sen-choo,eyt(emphasis,जोर देना)] the strains. A bank merger is never easy but when both banks have strained balance sheets, it can lead to a collapse. Mergers eat up a lot of top management time — IT systems, organisation structures, risk systems, exposure limits, and product portfolios need to be aligned. Branches need to be rationalised, customers need to be informed, brands need to be reestablished and people have to be placed in jobs. At a time when PSBs need a razor focus on cleaning up credit portfolios, mergers will be very distracting and will bring the sector to a halt.

In fact, Indian banking operates under three disparate[dis-p(u-)rut(different,भिन्न)] regulatory policy regimes creating the PSB industry, the private bank industry and the foreign bank industry. These industries have had different freedoms, incentives and constraints in respect to branch licensing, compensation, regulatory prescriptions, M&A and capital raising. PSBs are also overseen by the dreaded[dre-did(fearsome,भयानक)] Central Vigilance Commission and the Central Bureau of Investigation. The constraints that PSBs operate under, therefore, are well known and require them to address three specific challenges — recapitalisation (to deal with NPAs, Basel requirements and for growth of their balance sheet), governance autonomy (from Parliament — for strategic moves like acquisition, the vigilance apparatus, and the ministry for CEO and board appointments), and HR autonomy (in recruitment and compensation). In the current structure, none of this works. The recent attempts to address their plight (Indradhanush), while useful in themselves, have not come close to addressing the core issues.

The current talk of consolidation provides an opportunity to address these issues once and for all. The approach I suggest can clean up the mess, release capital, and create five large, structurally unconstrained government-promoted banks that do not require any parliamentary permissions. How?

I believe the government should promote five new banks under the RBI guidelines for new private banks. The RBI guidelines stipulate that promoters can own no more than a 40 per cent stake at the time of launch, which needs to come down to 15 per cent in 12 years. No other shareholder can hold more than a 5 per cent stake. The government could even seek an exception from the RBI and ask to be allowed not to reduce its stake below 26 per cent. The five banks should be promoted in five different cities — Chennai, Bangalore, Mumbai, New Delhi and Kolkata. Consolidation would occur by getting all the public sector banks located in the same city (in the case of Bangalore, the state) to transfer all their good assets and liabilities to the single new bank promoted in that city over a period of three years. So, for example, in Mumbai, the good assets and liabilities of Central Bank, Dena Bank, Union Bank, Bank of Baroda, Bank of India and IDBI Bank across the country should be transferred to the newly promoted Mumbai Bank and so on for each of the new banks. However, government capital should not be transferred. An equitable scheme for minority shareholders in the new banks would be required. Just the structure of the new banks promoted by government would allow them a much higher price to book than the less than 0.5 per cent that PSBs currently enjoy. These five new banks would enjoy all the freedom of the new private sector banks with the government just being the promoter of these banks. They would have full HR autonomy, they would not be under the CBI or the CVC, and they would each have independent boards akin[u'kin(similar,के समान)] to say an Axis Bank. They would raise capital from the market. They would start out on new technology and would look to digitise bank operations from the start. They would have fewer branches and would use partnerships and alternative channels (mobile) a lot more. The State Bank of India (SBI) could be allowed to carry on as it is but at some point the government should reduce its holding below 51 per cent to provide a similar freedom to its staff.

The existing PSBs could be provided the minimum additional capital necessary for basic ongoing business and essentially to work out their impaired assets. It is not even important to close these banks down after three years but they will become a small SUUTI type rump (the impaired assets company of UTI) that will fade away. The big bulk of their senior officers would retire in three years and their employees under 55 would get very favourable consideration in the new bank, where the bank assets are transferred, on the new terms of employment. We should recall that Axis Bank started with a bulk of their employees coming from the SBI and SBBJ.

What a move like this does is that in three years’ time, we will have five large banks, with government as the single-largest shareholder, but without any of the constraints of the present PSBs. No permissions are required to do this, no debates in parliament and in one stroke we clean up the entire sector, make the banks bigger and allow the rump to be worked out over the next three to five years. The consolidation discussion provides the required fillip. It will be a lasting legacy the Modi government could leave India — a robust[row'búst(strong,मजबूत)], large and clean banking system.

Courtesy:indian express

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Sunday, 22 May 2016

Know your English

“I heard you made poor Sujatha cry. What did you do?”
“Nothing, actually. She asked me what I thought of her essay, and I gave her my honest opinion. I pointed out a few errors she’d made, and then went on to ...”
“Good grief! Don’t you know that Sujatha is too thin-skinned for all that?”
“Thin-skinned? Is it the opposite of thick-skinned?”
“Very good! A ‘thin-skinned’ person is someone who gets upset by what others say about him. He is easily hurt or offended by their comments.”
“In other words, he is hypersensitive. He breaks down or becomes very angry when people don’t have nice things to say about him.”
“That’s right! If you want to survive in politics, you cannot afford to be thin-skinned.”
“Nagesh is very thin-skinned. So, don’t make the mistake of making fun of him.”
“You, on the other hand, are very thick-skinned. You ...”
“Let’s not talk about me! Let’s talk about you, instead. How was your trip to Kolkata? Did you manage to see the places you’d planned to?”
“Didn’t get a chance to. I couldn’t even leave the hotel room because the three days I was there, it was raining pitchforks.
“Raining pitchforks? Does it mean it was raining heavily?”
“That’s right! When you say it’s raining pitchforks, it means it’s pouring.”
“I see. So, can I say, every time we decide to go on a picnic, it rains pitchforks?”
“Sounds like a good example. Last Saturday, it rained pitchforks all day.”
“I know! It completely ruined my weekend. By the way, what is a pitchfork?”
“It’s a farm instrument. It looks like a fork with a long handle, and farmers use it to lift or move hay and grass. Tell me, how are your plans for the surprise party coming along?”
“The surprise party that I wanted to give my mother is no longer a surprise, I’m afraid. My sister told Kala about the plans, and ...”
“That was a big blunder. Doesn’t your sister know Kala has foot-in-mouth disease?”
“Foot-in-mouth disease? What kind of disease is that?”
“A person who has foot-in-mouth disease finds it difficult to keep a secret. He shares information with people he is not supposed to. He talks too much and ...”
“In other words, this person gets into trouble because of his big mouth. He talks about things he shouldn’t be.”
“I guess you could say that! He usually ends up saying the wrong things to wrong people at the wrong time. My friend Rahul has foot-in-mouth-disease.”
“Isn’t he the one who told the Principal about your plans to go on strike?”
“That’s right! The CEO doesn’t allow my boss to take part in any negotiation. She has foot-in-mouth disease. This expression has the same meaning as ‘to put one’s foot in one’s mouth.”
“I see. How about this example? Hari put his foot in his mouth when he told his pregnant wife to lose some weight.”
“I’m sure that made her really angry. Last week at a party, I really put my foot in my mouth. I asked my boss if the man next to her was her husband. She said it was her father.”
“Such things shouldn’t worry you. After all, you’re pretty thick skinned.”
******
“I don’t think anybody should write his autobiography until after he’s dead.” — Samuel Goldwyn

Courtesy:the hindu

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Saturday, 21 May 2016

What makes a video go viral

The joke goes that learning the secret to making a viral video is like hitting the jackpot. Sample this really curious mix of videos that went viral in India last year — the peppy ‘Every Bollywood Party Song feat. Irrfan’ by AIB; an episode from the hugely popular show for children, Chhota Bheem; an episode from Sony Television’s Crime Patrol; Sujoy Ghosh’s Radhika Apte-starring thriller Ahalya; an episode from the decadent MTV show Splitsvilla. A hotchpotch[hóch,póch(mixed things,खिचड़ी)] proving that we are nowhere near answering that vexing[vek-sing(annoying,खिजाऊ)] question: what makes some videos go viral and others fizzle out[fi-zul awt(unsuccessful,असफल)] ?

Last year, the Harvard Business Review reported that Unruly, a tech company that “gets videos watched, tracked and shared across the Open Web”, analysed about 430 billion views and 1,00,000 costumer data points in an attempt to answer this question.

According to its findings, viral success is often driven by two factors: how the video makes a person feel and his or her social motivations in sharing it. People shared those videos that made them feel warm, fuzzy and happy. People also shared those videos on which they wanted an opinion, or which featured subjects they are passionate about. Videos that capture people’s imagination, or are funny, valuable or meaningful have been found to go viral, according to other studies. However, this by no means provides an answer to how to break the Internet; luck obviously plays an important part too.

Videos promoting peace

In India, where everyday headlines are about failed efforts by the Indian and Pakistani governments in reaching out to each other, or of attacks along the border — news that largely desensitises people or makes them cynical[si-ni-kul(disrespectful,दोषदर्शी)] — videos that promote peace seem to strike a chord. Partition may have taken place more than half a century back but its repercussions[ree-pu'kú-shun(indirect result,अप्रत्यक्ष परिणाम)] continue to be felt today; people on both sides of the border still have stories to recount of carnage[kaa-ni(slaughter,हत्याकांड)], torn families, of daughters and sons who grew up without fathers, of displacement.

A video that has gone viral now can tick off both the success factors of Unruly’s study. Jalandhar-based Gurmehar Kaur’s heart-warming silent video #ProfileForPeace, which had been liked by more than a million people on Facebook before being removed, not only brings a lump to the throat but is also being shared because the subject is of interest to everyone. The daughter of Captain Mandeep Singh, who was killed in the Kargil War in 1999, Gurmehar makes an appeal through placards to all Indians and Pakistanis to “pull up their socks” and make peace, not war. Her father’s death when she was just two years old left her with hatred for Pakistanis and Muslims, she says, before she came to realise that the blame was to be pinned on war and not people or countries. “If France and Germany can become friends after two World Wars and Japan and the U.S. can work towards progress, why not us,” the 19-year-old asks. “Share the video if you wish for peace” is the last message on screen before Gurmehar walks out of the frame as wordless and expression- free as she had walked into it. The messages on the 30 placards are razor-sharp, the point is driven home.

The video in its poignancy[poyn-yun(t)-see(sorrow,मार्मिकता)] is similar to a Google advertisement that has been viewed by more than 13,036,440 people since it was released in 2013. In that video, two friends separated by Partition are reunited decades later through the efforts of their great-grandchildren. The themes are similar: India-Pakistan camaraderie[ka-mu'raa-du-ree(sociability,सौहार्द)], separation, memories, and love between people in the time of hostility[hós'ti-lu-tee(enmity,शत्रुता)] between governments.

But this does not mean that every video on India and Pakistan will go viral; YouTube has thrown up many similar ones that have simply not made the mark. Going back to the examples in the beginning shows us that there is no magic formula. India is obsessed with Bollywood, and with all party songs mixing and matching the same elements — women, alcohol, bright lights, pools — it isn’t surprising that the ‘Every Bollywood Party Song’ went viral. Catchy? Tick. Intelligently done? Tick. Good lyrics? Tick. Humour? Spot on. Or, for that matter, why Ahalya was watched by so many people: twist in a mythological tale, great actors, well shot, and a spectacular climax. But it is mysterious why that particular episode of Splitsvilla did well. What made it different from the other episodes? All of them feature women screaming and men flexing their muscles in exotic locations anyway.

Audience is king

There is also a difference to be made between promotional videos and those shot at home. To think content is the sole reason why most videos go viral is naive; companies work hard to make sure that certain promotional videos are posted everywhere — YouTube, Facebook, MySpace, and so on. And it is hard work.

But that’s only the second step. The first is making the video itself. You can put in all the cutesy elements — babies and dogs, for instance. Or make it emotional, funny, or intelligent. Ghastly[gãst-lee(offensive,बेकार)] videos also go viral because human beings are voyeuristic[,v(w)oy-yu'ris-ti-kul(viewer,दृश्यरतिक)] — the one of an Indian woman thrashing her 70-year-old mother-in-law or of the man whose body was cut in two in an accident in Kerala immediately come to mind. But one thing is definite: videos are not about you, they are about what the audience wants. And if you are just yourself with no pretence or obvious effort, most experts say, the job is half done. You are on your way to that jackpot.

Courtesy:the hindu

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Friday, 20 May 2016

How not to fight corruption

The Prevention of Corruption Act (PCA), the key legislation which defines what constitutes corruption and prescribes penalties for corruption-related offences, is set to be amended by Parliament. The proposed Bill, now before a select committee of the Rajya Sabha, includes several contentious[kun'ten-shus(controversial,विवादस्पद)] amendments that are likely to have far-reaching ramifications[ra-mu-fu'key-shun(complexity,जटिलता)]. They require considerable deliberation.

First, the proposed amendments make all actual and potential bribe-givers offenders under the PCA. How fair is it to criminalise all bribe giving in a country like ours, where people are forced to pay bribes even to get their basic entitlements like rations, pensions, education and health facilities? The PCA already criminalises those who abet[u'bet(encourage,प्रोत्साहित)] corruption. While it is desirable to treat giving bribes aimed at receiving illegitimate gains as an offence, people, especially the poor and the marginalised, are often forced to pay bribes to get what is legitimately theirs. If they are also prosecuted, it would be a double wrong.

Disincentivising reporting

Imagine a poor man who rushes his young daughter to hospital after she has got badly burnt, and finds the doctor demanding a bribe to treat her. What options does he have? If he doesn’t pay the bribe, he risks losing his daughter’s life. On the other hand, if he pays it (clearly under duress), the proposed amendments to the PCA make him as guilty as the receiver — he could be in prison for up to seven years! Forcing people into this dilemma[dI'le-mu(confusion,दुविधा)] would only further the culture of impunity by disincentivising reporting of corruption by bribe-givers.

Therefore, the proposed amendments to the PCA are, practically and morally, a retrograde[re-tru,greyd(backward,पश्चगामी)] step. The government would be well advised to reconsider this and offer immunity to at least three types of bribe-givers. First, those who are coerced[kow'urs(force,मजबूर)] to pay a bribe to obtain their legal entitlements; second, those who voluntarily come forward to complain and bear witness against corrupt public officials; and third, those who are willing to turn approvers. For the second and third categories though, immunity should be provided only from criminal liability — bribe-givers must be made to return any benefit they secured as a result of the bribe. Providing immunity to these categories of bribe-givers would encourage them to complain about corruption and ensure that corruption is not a low-risk, high-return activity.

Rather than criminalising bribe-givers who are forced to pay bribes to get their legal entitlements, the objective of combating[kum'bat(fight,लड़ना)] coercive corruption would be more effectively achieved if the government puts in place a comprehensive grievance redress mechanism. Currently, if anyone files a complaint regarding denial of their entitlements, the complainant almost never gets redress nor is any penal action initiated against the guilty. This can be remedied by the enactment of the grievance redress bill, which was introduced in the Parliament in 2011 and had support across party lines, but unfortunately lapsed with the dissolution of the last Lok Sabha.

Approval for investigation

The second prickly[pri-k(u-)lee(irritable,चिड़चिड़ा)] issue is the need to seek prior approval for investigation into certain cases of corruption. The amendments state that complaints regarding corruption that relate to decisions taken or recommendations made by public servants in the discharge of their official duty, shall not be investigated without the prior approval of the Lokpal or Lokayuktas, as the case maybe. Such complaints shall be forwarded to, and deemed to be complaints made to the Lokpal or Lokayuktas.

The Minister concerned clarified in the Rajya Sabha that the objective of these amendments is to safeguard public servants who are in decision-making positions, so that they may take decisions without fear of harassment. He said that the amendments were meant to replace Section 6A of the Delhi Special Police Establishment Act, which was struck down by the Supreme Court. Section 6A mandated prior sanctions for investigation for officials of the rank of joint secretary and above, as they are in decision-making positions.

However, these amendments will potentially lead to great confusion and unending litigation. How will the police, without investigation, unambiguously[ún,am'bi-gyoo-us-lee(clearly,स्पष्ठतया)] determine whether the alleged act of corruption is relatable to a decision taken or recommendation made by a public servant?

To avoid confusion, the proposed amendments must either be dropped or state that complaints about all offences under the PCA shall be dealt with by the Lokpal at the Central level and Lokayuktas at the State level, for all categories of public servants covered in the respective laws.

Existing instruments

Finally, despite widespread public opinion against the necessity to seek the government’s permission before prosecuting a public servant for corruption, the amendments seek to strengthen this provision by increasing the cover to even retired public officials. Unfortunately, experience in India has shown that the requirement for seeking prior sanction from the government for prosecution is a critical bottleneck and results not only in huge delays but also in the accused often never being prosecuted. The PCA must insulate prosecuting agencies from government influence. The Lokpal law has vested the power of granting sanction for prosecution in the Lokpal. The proposed amendments must appropriately reflect this. Wherever the procedure for granting prosecution is defined in the Lokpal or Lokayukta laws, it should be applicable. For all other cases, including where no Lokpal or Lokayukta has been set up, an independent committee should be tasked with the responsibility of giving prior approval for prosecution.

If the Modi government is serious about tackling corruption, it should, in addition to re-introducing the grievance redress bill, immediately operationalise the Lokpal Act and the Whistle Blowers Protection Act which were passed by Parliament more than two years ago. These laws, together with the PCA, form the necessary anti-corruption statutory framework.

Courtesy:the hindu

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No longer at sea

The United Nations arbitration tribunal’s decision on the Italian marines case, announced on May 3, seeks to placate[plu'keyt(convince,मनाना)] both India and Italy over a tragic incident that led to the death of two Indian fishermen off Kochi in February 2012.

The two Italian marines accused of shooting the fishermen have been suspended in a legal twilight zone, given the many complexities that envelop the incident, thereby resulting in a long festering bilateral dispute that has soured relations between New Delhi and Rome ever since.

In summary, the Italian position is that the two marines positioned on board a merchant tanker, the Enrica Lexie, had opened fire to thwart[thwort(prevent,रोकना)] what they perceived as a pirate attack 20.5 nautical miles off Kochi. It is further argued that the death of the two Indian fishermen occurred in the course of the discharge of their operational duties, and hence functional immunity could be invoked as related to the military personnel of any nation. And that even if charges of death by accident were to be prosecuted against the marines, this would have to be done within the ambit of Italian law and jurisdiction as harmonised with the UN Law of the Sea [UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS)].

New Delhi, however, has steadfastly[sted,fãst-lee(firmly,दृढ़तापूर्वक)] rejected this formulation and has invoked its sovereign right to prosecute the accused under the provisions of Indian law, thereby resulting in an impasse.

Given this basic divergence[di'vur-jun(t)s(disagreement,असहमति)] over which jurisdiction would be applicable in prosecuting the marines, an anomalous[u'nó-mu-lus(abnormal,असाधारण)] situation developed, wherein the marines were moved from detention in Kerala to the premises of the Italian Embassy in Delhi — and the already extended legal stasis continued. Over the years there were further unprecedented[ún'pre-si,den-tid(new,अभूतपूर्व)] interim provisions that allowed the marines to return to Italy — in one instance for Christmas and later to participate in an Italian general election.

An EU context

Within India, the case moved from the Kerala High Court to the Supreme Court with differing views among experts about the overlap between domestic law, the interpretation of sovereignty in territorial waters and contiguous[kun'tig-yoo-us(connected,सटा हुआ)] zones as derived from the UNCLOS and how Centre-State jurisdiction was to be determined, given the distinctive nature of the entire incident which had a bearing on the prevailing[pri'vey-ling(common,प्रचलित)] global anti-piracy effort.

India ‘asserted’ its sovereignty and sought to claim its sole jurisdiction in prosecuting the marines in a special court, but considerable time had elapsed, and by December 2014, the case acquired an EU context. A former Italian Foreign Minister Federica Mogherini had been appointed High Representative of the EU for Foreign Affairs and referring to the long pendency of the case (about three years, while the norm in India is decades!), she warned that “the issue has the potential to impact the overall European Union-India relations.”

Consequently[kón-si-kwunt-lee(resultant,परिणामस्वरूप)], an India-EU summit meeting with Prime Minister Narendra Modi in early 2015 could not be scheduled, and it was evident that Italy would take recourse to international mediation, despite India’s strong reservations.

In June 2015 Italy approached the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea (ITLOS) in Hamburg. In August 2015 ITLOS ordered that: “Italy and India shall both suspend all court proceedings and refrain from initiating new ones which might aggravate[ag-ru,veyt(worsen,बिगाड़ना)] or extend the dispute submitted to the Annex VII arbitral tribunal or might jeopardise[je-pu,dIz(risky,जोखिम में)] or prejudice the carrying out of any decision which the arbitral tribunal may render[ren-du(give,देना)] .” In short, ITLOS rejected the Italian request that India return the marines provisionally – though one of them is currently in Italy on medical grounds, a temporary measure granted by the Indian Supreme Court.

Subsequent to the ITLOS ruling, both parties agreed that the dispute would be resolved under the UNCLOS tribunal, while the ground situation was that while one marine was in Italy (on medical grounds), the other (Salvatore Girone) was in India in the local Italian Embassy.

Rome once again approached the ad-hoc[ad'hók(specific,तदर्थ)] tribunal to “take such measures as are necessary to relax the bail conditions on Sergeant Girone in order to enable him to return to Italy, under the responsibility of the Italian authorities, pending the final determination of the Annex VII Tribunal.”

The tribunal order (May 3) has accepted the Italian plea and allowed the marine in India to return, but the wording is significant. It notes: “Italy and India shall cooperate, including in proceedings before the Supreme Court of India, to achieve a relaxation of the bail conditions of Sergeant Girone so as to give effect to the concept of considerations of humanity, so that Sergeant Girone, while remaining under the authority of the Supreme Court of India, may return to Italy during the present Annex VII arbitration.”

The Indian government has interpreted this decision as affirming the authority of the Supreme Court of India in the matter, even as Rome sought to rationalise the tribunal’s order as a vindication[,vin-di'key-shun(defense,बचाव)] of Italy’s position. This provisional order only addresses what has been termed by Rome as the “humanitarian” dimension of an intractable bilateral dispute between the two countries – and in many ways the bitterly contested legal haul has just begun.

Just the beginning

The first step is for both parties to approach the Indian Supreme Court for a relaxation of the bail for Sergeant Girone. What will be critical is Rome’s unambiguous[ún,am'bi-gyoo-us(clear,स्पष्ठ)] acceptance of the conditions attached, including the fact that even while being in Italy the accused would be “under the authority of the Supreme Court of India.”

It is expected that over the next year or maybe two, the Italian marines case will be heard in an international arbitral forum and decided on ‘merits’ to determine whose jurisdiction will finally prevail. In the event that Indian jurisdiction is upheld, the criminal proceedings will then begin. In short, the stage has only been set for the first of many legal steps to be taken, and it has taken four years plus to arrive at this point.

But more than the long-drawn-out legal maze, it is the Indian domestic political context and related discourse that diminishes[di'mi-nish(lessen,कमी)] the world’s largest democracy. Even as the government made a statement in Parliament about the provisional Hague order, reiterating[ree'i-tu,reyt(repeat,दोहरान)] the affirmation of the Supreme Court of India, the opposition lost no time in casting aspersions.

Accusing the NDA government of entering into a deal with Italy over the marines case, so as to corner the Congress leadership (read Sonia Gandhi) on the VVIP chopper case, the low point was the reference to a Modi tweet of March 2014 which read: “Italian marines mercilessly killed our fishermen. If Madam is so ‘patriotic’ can she tell us in which jail are the marines lodged in?”

Given that rank political opportunism and stoking ‘nationalist’ sentiment has become the higher Delhi priority — the objective pursuit of justice and a restoration of normalcy in India-Italy bilateral relations will remain elusive over the short term.

Courtesy:the hindu

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Thursday, 19 May 2016

Clampdown on the cancer e-stick

The wriggle room for electronic or e-cigarettes, which have been marketed as a healthier alternative to the cancer stick, is shrinking rapidly as the United States Food and Drug Administration (FDA) this week made sweeping new rules that, for the first time, regulate the popular product.
In a 499-page regulatory road map, the FDA banned the sale of e-cigarettes to people under the age of 18. Further, producers of e-cigarettes will now have to register with the FDA and be open for inspections. The new rules also forbid manufacturers from marketing their products as “light” or “mild” unless the FDA permits them; companies cannot give out free samples either.
Cue for Indian policymakers
According to the World Health Organization (WHO), e-cigarettes have become popular across the world in a short span of four-five years. As against conventional cigarettes that burn the tobacco leaf, e-cigarettes are battery-operated devices that vaporise liquid that contains nicotine and provide a sensation similar to inhaling tobacco. There is no combustion[kum'bús-chun(burning,दहन)] involved in the process, a quality the industry has milked while branding the product as a feasible[fee-zu-bul(possible,संभावित)] option to those who want to quit smoking.
The measures recommended by the FDA vindicate['vin-di,keyt(justify,न्यायसंगत)] the cautious stance taken by countries such as India even though there are no laws regulating e-cigarettes in the country as of now. Countries like India — which is a signatory to WHO’s Framework Convention on Tobacco Control (FCTC), a global treaty for tobacco control — have, however, been cautious by making it amply[amp-lee(fully,पूर्णतया)] clear that e-cigarettes are not a “healthier” option and there is no evidence to say that it helps people who want to quit smoking. “We have an expert committee in place and the issue is whether we should regulate or ban it altogether,” says C.K. Mishra, Additional Secretary, Ministry of Health and Family Welfare.
Not a healthier alternative
One of the most polemical[pu'le-mi-kul(controversial,विवादस्पद)] debates surrounding e-cigarettes is the positioning of it as a method to quit smoking. There are few studies on the health risks and none on the long-term impact of e-cigarettes on health. “We are concerned that the product currently remains unregulated in India. The cardiovascular disease community has been very vocal about the adverse effects of nicotine. There is no evidence whatsoever to say that e-cigarettes are helpful to those who want to quit,” says Dr. Monika Arora, Director, Tobacco Control Division of the Public Health Foundation of India.
The WHO has, for long, maintained that the claim is not based on evidence. There are about 500 e-cigarette brands, and only a few have been analysed. “Some of the analysed brands are known to have very low toxic emissions compared with conventional cigarettes. Some e-cigarettes have few and low levels of toxicants, but some contain levels of cancer-causing agents, such as formaldehyde, that are as high as those in some conventional cigarettes. If smoking a cigarette is like jumping from the 100th floor, using an e-cigarette is certainly like jumping from a lower floor, but which floor? We don’t know,” WHO stated in a bulletin on the topic in 2014.
Courtesy:the hindu


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Wednesday, 18 May 2016

Know your English

“There’s too much of shouting and screaming on the news channels these days. The only thing that people do is to wash their dirty linens in public.”
“Some channels just manufacture news! By the way, it’s dirty linen and not linens. When you ...”
“I know what the expression means. When you wash your dirty linen in public, you are discussing in public, things that you shouldn’t be. Things that should remain private.”
“Very good! Americans tend to say ‘air your dirty laundry in public’.”
“How about this example? Political parties are washing their dirty linen in public.”
“Considering the kind of people who become politicians, it isn’t surprising. In our company, we’re told not to air our dirty laundry in public.”
“Many people like Sujatha believe that it’s not wrong to wash your dirty linen in public. Got an email from her yesterday, by the way. Wrote about the student life in America.”
“And what did she have to say about student life in America? Did she ...”
“She said that the student life there was very ...”
“It’s ‘student life’ and not ‘the student life’. The word ‘life’ is frequently used in expressions like ‘married life’, ‘city life’, ‘student life’, etc. Such expressions are not preceded by ‘the’.
“In other words, when we are talking about the way of life of a group of people, we don’t use ‘the’. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Absolutely! My friend who got married a year ago says married life is a real pain.”
“Many villagers believe that city life is exciting. What do they know, right? Tell me, are you going to watch the match tonight?”
“Of course! What else is there to do? Who are you pulling for?”
“Pulling for? Are you asking me which team I’ll be supporting?”
“That’s right! The expression ‘pull for’ can also be used to mean to cheer for someone. During the World Cup, we were all pulling for India. My neighbours, though, were pulling for South Africa.”
“ How about this example? Remember Atul, we’re all pulling for you. Just go out there and do your best.”
“Sounds good. The expression is limited to informal contexts. The champion became angry when everyone started pulling for the underdog.”
“That usually happens. Especially, when the match is one sided. Understand you ran into your boss at the theatre. What did he say?”
“Nothing! He cut me dead.”
“Cut you dead! You look alive to me. Am I ...”
“Not very funny, I’m afraid. When you cut someone dead, you ignore the person completely. You may have seen him, but you pretend you haven’t.”
“In other words, you look through the person.”
“I guess you could say that. I gave Radhika a smile, but she cut me dead.”
“She does that to a lot of people. When some of his old friends went to say hello to the Minister, he cut them dead.”
“The original expression was ‘to cut someone’. Later, the word ‘dead’ was added. The aging superstar has mellowed. He doesn’t cut anyone dead these days.”
“The youngsters are cutting him dead, I guess.

Courtesy:the hindu

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Wednesday, 11 May 2016

In Kerala, the battle over the bottle

History is against any strong clampdown[klamp,dawn(sudden restriction,कठोर नीति)] on liquor consumption, even when there are strong health and socio-economic compulsions to do so. Experience across time and space suggests that liquor curbs[kurb(control,नियंत्रित)] only spawn a huge black market for it and often lead to a spike in consumption of more addictive substances. Consequently[kón-si-kwunt-lee(resultant,परिणामी)], most societies that have tried to put an end to liquor consumption have had to quietly, or not so quietly, bury such grandiose[gran-dee,ows(impressive,भव्य)] hopes and live with the problem of heavy drinking, especially among the poorer sections of society, and the vice-like grip that the liquor mafia wields on the economy and polity.

The United Democratic Front (UDF) government’s ongoing experiment to curb liquor sale and consumption in Kerala is one more thrust upon it than an altruistic[al-troo'is-tik(unselfish,निःस्वार्थ)] endeavour, a case of political one-upmanship becoming policy. The man who almost single-handedly made it happen was Kerala Pradesh Congress Committee (KPCC) president V.M. Sudheeran, who saw an ideal opportunity for decisive[di'sI-siv(crucial,निर्णायक)] intervention when the UDF was up against the question of renewing the licences of 418 out of the 730-odd liquor bars in the State.

With the KPCC chief emerging as the champion of a cause that the rest of the political establishment had always fought shy of, Chief Minister Oommen Chandy found no option but to hit back with even sterner[sturn(strict,सख्त)] measures than were being advocated by Mr. Sudheeran. The end result was closure of all the 730-odd bars in the State, leaving less than two score five-star hotels and clubs with the freedom to serve liquor. The matter went up to the Supreme Court, but a division bench of the apex court comprising Justices Vikramjit Sen and Shiva Kirti Singh upheld the State government’s authority to curb liquor consumption, terming it “a positive step towards bringing down the consumption of alcohol, or as preparatory to prohibition”.

The UDF leadership has now made it a virtue, turning its goal of bringing in “prohibition in stages” its single major campaign plank for the May 16 Assembly elections. The Chief Minister himself now takes pleasure in engaging the CPI(M) in a debate on the virtues of the UDF’s policy goal of prohibition as opposed to the Left Democratic Front’s (LDF) policy of promoting abstinence[ab-stu-nun(t)s(avoidance,परहेज)] which, he reminds them, is no policy at all. Mr. Sudheeran’s stubborn stand and Mr. Chandy’s political gambit[gam-bit(trick,चाल)] appear to be paying off, with opinion polls showing that the UDF’s ‘anti-liquor’ policy has found good traction among women voters, the corruption scandals notwithstanding. The CPI(M)-led Opposition LDF is caught in a classic dilemma[dI'le-mu(confusion,दुविधा)] here, unable to forswear[for'swehr(reject,अस्वीकार)] the policy option, but unwilling to take the same course.

Demography of drinking

Like elsewhere, there has been growing concern in Kerala about the health and societal impact of alcoholism, with a study by community medicine experts in 2014 showing that around 30 per cent of the State’s population aged above 18 are hooked to the bottle, about one-third of them heavy drinkers. Till Mr. Sudheeran arrived on the scene with his prescription, prohibition was an idea which mainstream politicians did little about except pay lip service.

Mapping the demography of drinking in Kerala, experts have pointed out that the relationship between heavy drinking and the economic and educational status of the population is inversely proportional: the higher the economic and educational status, the lower the level of alcohol consumption. “Roughly 40 to 50 per cent of the drinking population in Kerala belong to lower-middle-income or middle-income groups. This is a very serious issue because you are talking about very poor families falling victims to the menace[me-nis(threat,खतरा)] ,” says S. Irudaya Rajan, professor, Centre for Development Studies (CDS), Thiruvananthapuram, who had led a study on the demographic profile of tipplers in Kerala. He points out that the propensity to drink is higher when liquor is available nearby and, therefore, the decision to shut down liquor bars could be a game changer. “Some say it will reflect in the voting pattern in the May 16 Assembly election, but I do not wish to hazard[ha-zud(risk,जोखिम)] any guess on that,” he says.

Hard times for hard liquor

Predictably, there is no agreement between the government and the Opposition on the benefits of bar closure. Initially, the government itself did not appear convinced about proposal to close bars till it became an unavoidable option, but now Mr. Chandy and his team are swearing by it, claiming that consumption of hard liquor has come down in the State by a substantive measure following the clampdown, by around 25 per cent over the past one year. The Opposition has sought to contradict this. “The UDF claim that it has brought down liquor consumption is, to say the least, a lie. There are as many as 806 beer/wine parlours, 306 government-run retail outlets of hard liquor, 33 bars in clubs and 30 five-star hotels. The sale of wine has gone up by 131 per cent and that of beer by 95 per cent. Against 316.7 lakh cases of Indian Made Foreign Liquor (IMFL) sold in 2014-15, 355.95 lakh cases were sold from April 2015 to March 2016. So, where is the reduction,” asks Kanam Rajendran, CPI State secretary, pointing out that the revenue from liquor sale has also been on a sharp upswing in the State over the years from Rs.301 crore in 2013 to Rs.11, 000 crore in 2015-16.

However, those involved in the State government’s policy formulation and implementation point out that there are a lot of misconceptions about rate of liquor consumption in Kerala. The State, spread over 36,000 square kilometres, now has only 306 retail liquor outlets, which would work out to just one outlet every 100-110 sq km. In comparison to Kerala, liquor sales in Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka and Tamil Nadu are growing at a faster clip, mainly on account of the closer proximity of outlets to the consumers. Kerala, they point out, had seen a sharp fall in growth of liquor sale through the official outlets from 16 per cent in 2011-12 to 1 per cent the next year and further to minus 9 per cent in 2015-16. They concede that consumption of beer and wine has indeed gone up, but contend that this should be seen as a positive development in tune with the recommendations made by the A.P. Udayabhanu Commission decades ago.

Multiple flip sides

However, the fall in hard liquor consumption, if at all it’s happened on the scale at which the government claims it has, has also triggered another phenomenon in the State: a flare-up in the use of cannabis and high-end party drugs such as cocaine, LSD, nitrazepam, buprenorphine and methamphetamine, particularly among the younger generation, and the enforcement challenge could be gargantuan[gaa'gan-choo-un(big,बड़ा)] given the scale at which the drug abuse trends are being reported from different parts of the State. Police say that the crime pattern of the State itself is getting skewed on account of drug abuse. In Kochi city alone, over 250 drug-related cases have been registered this year, against 782 cases in 2015. “This is a serious issue which needs to be addressed even as we discuss the State’s liquor policy. The high purchasing power of the younger generation is probably contributing to this phenomenon,” says Prof. Irudaya Rajan.

Of equal concern for the administrators and Opposition politicians is the impact that prohibition would have on the State finances. The rise in revenue from liquor sale, as pointed out by Mr. Rajendran, is not entirely an indication of increased consumption. It has a lot to with the increase in sales tax and excise duty. In 2014-15, the government had hiked the sales tax on liquor by 35 per cent and, in 2015-16, jacked up the excise duty by 50 per cent. As a combined result of this, the Kerala State Beverages Corporation, the monopoly IMFL retailer, was able to pass on to the exchequer Rs.9,787 crore by way of sales tax and excise duties out of its annual turnover of Rs.11,577 crore. Revenue from liquor sale constitutes roughly 12 per cent of the total tax receipts of the State government and 25 per cent of the State’s own tax revenue, almost 60 per cent of which goes towards salaries and pensions of State employees and teachers.

While upholding the restrictions on liquor sale in Kerala, the division bench of the Supreme Court had spoken about the right of the “besieged State” to cure itself. Dependence on revenue from liquor contributed mostly by the poor is something that has led to this self-inflicted state of siege and makes curative interventions appear inevitable. What Kerala witnesses this election season is a heady debate on whether prohibition, with its unpredictable consequences, is the answer to that social, political and economic challenge.

Courtesy:the hindu

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Saturday, 7 May 2016

Know your English

How is the word ‘myriad’ pronounced?
(J Karthik, Madurai)
One simple way of pronouncing this word is to pronounce the ‘y’ and the ‘i’ like the ‘i’ in ‘sit’, ‘bit’ and ‘chit’, and the following ‘a’ like the ‘a’ in ‘china’. This rather formal word is pronounced ‘MI-ri-ed’ with the stress on the first syllable. It comes from the Greek ‘myrias’ meaning ‘ten thousand’. In English, the word is used both as a noun and an adjective to mean ‘countless’ or ‘a large number of’.
*Her myriad of admirers cheered Mithali as she rose to speak.
*For someone who has myriad problems, Jai looks pretty relaxed.
Is it okay to say ‘get off of the chair’?
(CV Geetha, Hyderabad)
There are many people today who squirm when they hear someone say ‘get off of the chair’! It is interesting to note, however, that in the 15th and 16th centuries, the expression ‘get off of’ was acceptable; it was considered standard. Nowadays, of course, most people are likely to say, ‘get off the chair/table’ rather than ‘get off of the table/chair’. But the use of ‘get off of’ has not completely disappeared; it continues to be used today in informal contexts in American English. Dictionaries label such use as ‘colloquial’ and ‘non-standard’. You may be able to get away with ‘get off of’ in speech, but not in formal styles of writing.
What is the difference between ‘exemplar’ and ‘example’?
(L Jayanth, Kancheepuram)
First, let us deal with the pronunciation of ‘exemplar’. The first vowel is pronounced like the ‘i’ in ‘sit’, ‘bit’ and ‘kit’, while the vowel in the second syllable sounds like the ‘e’ in ‘set’, ‘bet’ and ‘wet’. The final ‘ar’ can be pronounced like the ‘ar’ in ‘car’, ‘far’ and ‘par’. One way of pronouncing this word of Latin origin is ‘ig-ZEM-plaa’, with the stress on the second syllable. When you refer to someone as being an exemplar of courage, you are suggesting that he is a very courageous person; he is someone that others can do well to imitate. The word literally means worthy of being copied. An ‘example’, on the other hand, can be either good or bad. It may or may not be worthy of imitation. ‘Exemplar’ suggests perfection; it is related to ‘exemplary’.
*Rishi is an exemplar of hard work.
*That shot is a good example of the importance of footwork.
What is the meaning and origin of ‘in full cry’?
(Kalamkar, Pune)
When you are in ‘full cry’ over someone or something, you are continuously talking about the person or thing — and that too in a loud and enthusiastic manner. The expression usually suggests that a lot of noise is involved. It can also be used to mean to criticise someone or something; you express your thoughts/feelings rather forcefully and loudly.
*The students were in full cry over the proposed hike in fees.
The expression comes from the world of hunting, and therefore the word ‘cry’ has nothing to do with the tears that come out of one’s eyes. In this context, it refers to the loud barking sounds that a pack of dogs make when they are in hot pursuit of another animal.
******
“If you must hold yourself up to your children as an object lesson, hold yourself up as a warning and not as an example.” — G. B. Shaw

Courtesy:the hindu

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Friday, 6 May 2016

Don’t listen to the IT giants

The Indian government has rightly rested its Digital India initiative on a series of measures to liberalise the economy. One of those measures of free-market wisdom, however, the usual government-cheering section suddenly seems to be irrationally against. The PMO will be receiving from the Department of Industrial Policy and Promotion (DIPP) on April 30 a report on the Patent Office’s Computer-Related Inventions Guidelines (CRI), in which parties who usually applaud free-market measures are horrified to discover that Section 3(k) of the Patent Act really does prohibit government-awarded monopolies in software, and that the controller of patents is implementing the statutory command.

Software patenting is not a requirement of TRIPs, or of any current international trade law. The controller’s new CRI guidelines actually implement a test for software per se — unpatentable owing to Section 3(k) — which is close to the “machine or transformation” test all-but-imposed by the US Supreme Court in a series of cases over the last five years, in all of which we were amici curiae[u'mI-kus 'kyû-ree,ee(friend of court,न्यायालय सलाहकार)], urging[ur-jing(forcing,जोर देना)] the court in its current direction.

Software patenting is not in the Indian national economic interest. “Software,” as Bill Gates used to say, “is an IQ business”. When non-Indian firms can get software patents in India, the effect is to hobble the Indian IQ advantage, by making what many talented Indian programmers could otherwise use to make new innovations in software the property of the non-Indian patenting company. As our organisation, SFLC.in, has shown in its research report on the subject, more than 90 per cent of software patents awarded in India, before the rectification imposed by the new guidelines, were issued to foreign corporates.

Indian software companies can and do patent their inventions abroad, thus actively competing in the market for government monopolies maintained in other countries. But as the US Supreme Court has moved the US patent system away from patenting pure software claims and software-enabled business method claims, permitting such claims to be perfected in India awards the US and other non-Indian companies an unfair advantage here. The persistent[pu'sis-tunt(continuous,लगातार)] US unfairness found in the Super 301 designation, alleging supposed inadequacy[in'a-di-kwu-see(insufficiency,अपर्याप्तता)] in Indian “protection” of “intellectual property”, is also clearly expressed in current demands by US industrial parties — softly but unmistakably backed by their government — that India reverse a course converging with the US’s own.

In the Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP) negotiations, too, Indian efforts to implement its own longstanding patent law, preventing foreign parties from using the patent system to hobble Indian advantages in software-making, have come under direct fire. Language proposed by the Japanese government would require India to repeal the CRI guidelines and modify or abandon Section 3(k), which makes algorithms and software per se unpatentable.

Software industry incumbents[in'kúm-bunt(officeholder,पदस्थ)], including TCS and a sprinkling of other Indian firms among the phalanx of US giants[jI-unt(big,बड़ा)], have been forecasting doom if the Patent Act is actually observed. Along with patent lawyers — to whom no limits on the applicability of patent law are ever welcome — they have been announcing the death of Digital India, unless they are instantly allowed to own it. But as many IIT luminaries and dozens of start-up entrepreneurs have publicly indicated to the Indian government in refutation[re-fyû'tey-shun(disproof,खंडन)] of this chatter, the most important barrier to the growth of the burgeoning internet economy’s dynamic, inventive small firms is the uncertainty for potential investors caused by the possibility of patent attacks by incumbents against new market entrants.

Patent law is supposed to provide a limited-term commercial monopoly in return for the disclosure of inventions that would, in the absence of patent availability, be kept secret. This “bargain” has never made analytic sense for inventions made entirely of computer software. The idea of “free software”, made by massive collaboration under rules allowing everyone to learn, understand, improve and share, has transformed the global software industry. Disclosure is now an inherent part of the process by which progress occurs, as it is in fundamental research in physics, chemistry or any other natural science.

Patenting software makes no more sense than patenting mathematics, which is why the Patent Act Section 3(k) says what it does. Patenting software is no more a part of the Digital India future than is patenting arithmetic. The government will wisely pay no heed to the blandishments[blan-dish-munt(flattering,खुशामद)] of the incumbents.

Courtesy:indian express

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Thursday, 5 May 2016

EU needs a reality check

Rumours of the death of the European project are, as Mark Twain would have put it, vastly exaggerated[ig'za-ju,rey-tid(overstated,बढ़ा चढ़ा कर कहना)]. The importance of European powers and the contribution of the European Union (EU) in recent years are indelible[in'de-lu-bul(unerasable,अमिट)]. It was evident that even as the United States and Iran took binary positions, it was the EU’s outreach to Iran that paved the way for a diplomatic breakthrough. Its contested, yet continuing and valiant[va-lee-unt(brave,साहसी)] efforts to absorb Syrian war refugees are seminal. And, its clever, geo-economic manoeuvres[mu'noo-vu(tactics,युक्ति)] have succeeded in effectively containing Russia’s sphere of influence across central and eastern Europe. These are all examples of the contemporary impact of that geography to world affairs. However, it is undeniable that Brand EU is taking a beating. It is time to unpack where the scepticism['skep-ti,si-zum(disbelief,संशयवाद)] and perceived frailty[frey(-u)l-tee(weak,कमज़ोर)] stems from.

Patchy[pa-chee(incomplete,अपूर्ण)] integration

The first of the two most visible weaknesses of the project has to be that this strong collective of European nations has achieved only patchy social integration within its members. The states have been open to economic migrants and welcoming distressed populations from across the world’s conflict zones in the past (most recently from West Asia). The Gastarbeiter model adopted by several of them in the 1960s and 1970s may have addressed short-run labour problems but may not have been as efficient in assimilating[u'si-mu,ley-ting(absorb,समावेश)] newcomers into their society. Arguably, an immediate consequence[kón-si-kwun(t)s(result,परिणाम)] of this is the emergence and consolidation[kun,só-li'dey-shun(integration,सुदृढ़ीकरण)] of radical Islamism and its twin, racist-right-wing politics. As such, liberal EU is now grappling[grap-ling(fight,लड़ना)] with two illiberal ideologies.

The second is in the economic sphere — the touchstone of the European integration project. The EU finds itself caught in the inevitable[i'ne-vi-tu-bul(necessary,आवश्यक)] confusion that comes from being a monetary union without being a fiscal union. The periodic eruption of the Greek tragedy fundamentally arises from this cleavage.

But besides these, there are essentially four issues that dilute what the EU could potentially offer. To begin with, as a brand, it is behind its time. While smaller countries and developing regions of the world are seeking new collectives and the weight of these larger aggregations to reform the global order, the EU and the European project are seen and presented as status quo-ist, primarily concerned with perpetuating[pu'pe-choo,eyt(cause to continue,बनाये रखना)] entrenched[in'trencht(established,स्थापित)] interests. From reforms of key Bretton Woods institutions like the International Monetary Fund to that of the UN Security Council, European powers are seen to want more of the same. While some European powers do realise that this posture[pós-chu(attitude,रुख)] may not be sustainable in the long run — witness their enthusiasm for the China-led Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank — they are either unwilling or unable to upend the existing global governance order and allow it to be refashioned according to the realities of the 21st century.

Too Atlantic-centric

The second issue seems to be Europe’s conception of the map — and its place in the extant geography of the world. Europe must realise that its future is to a large extent coupled to that of Asia’s and Africa’s. Instead of a serious institutional push towards building a common future with the powers that will shape these two regions, Europe and the EU have functionally de-hyphenated themselves from both. For example, Paris consults Washington for guidance on its Syria policy, but not New Delhi, from which it may have obtained more sage advice. It is not hard to get an impression that Europe’s penchant[penchnt(preference,झुकाव)] with trans-Atlanticism is a sentimental anachronism. Such attitudes also reinforce[ree-in'fors(strengthen,मजबूत)] the impression that Europe is too busy consolidating the old boys’ club to realise that the geopolitical centre of gravity is inexorably[in'ek-s(u-)ru-blee(continuously,बिना रुके)] moving eastwards. Obsessed with the Atlantic Order, Europe is near absent in the great debates of the Indo-Pacific.

Europeans could, defensively, justify this trans-Atlantic orientation in the name of values, except that the tyranny of values — whether it is as self-proclaimed champions of human rights, or of liberal non-invasive multiculturalism — has cost Europe tremendously in recent years in real political terms. Europe’s promotion of norms was driven by self-interest in the past. A world remade in its own image was a self-serving agenda from the colonial era to the Cold War, with tangible[tan-ju-bu(real,वास्तविक)] material benefits. What Europe has engaged in since is promotion of self-determined values and norms divorced from immediate political interests. This has led to the establishment of a tremendously inelastic value system that seeks to enforce conformity on those who see the world differently. Arguably Europe's problems with integrating minorities in its national mainstream are one though not the only consequence of this social inelasticity.

All of these problems are compounded by the fact that Brand EU has a serious marketing problem. Brussels has made very little effort to engage the world beyond the borders of Europe in any meaningful way, and to great consequence. At a meeting between European and Indian scholars last year, both sides bemoaned the lack of communication initiated by the European side. EU public diplomacy has been fairly ineffective in large parts of Asia and Africa, with the consequence that the many positive messages that the EU could communicate to countries and regions to its east have been muted, to be crowded out by narratives emerging from eurosceptics in Britain and the U.S. instead. Therefore, the EU in India seems to be in the news mostly for the wrong reasons. It is time Europe took a hard look at its messaging, the medium, and at the concrete steps it needs to take to establish and reinvent itself among people it would need the most in the coming years.

Courtesy:the hindu

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Wednesday, 4 May 2016

A star in a strange role

Is Salman Khan qualified to be goodwill ambassador of the Indian contingent at the 2016 Rio Olympics? His father Salim Khan certainly seems to think so. In a tweet battle with Milkha Singh, who objected strenuously[stren-yoo-us-lee(strictly,सख्ती से)] to the appointment, Khan Sr. declared — with disturbing disregard for punctuation given his reputation as a famed screenwriter — “Salman khan may not have competed but is an A level swimmer cyclist and weight lifter.” Well, that. And the fact that Khan Jr. looks like a wrestler (indeed, he plays one in his upcoming film, Sultan), and appears to be an ace gymnast as well, given his preternatural ability to slip between the front and rear seats of a Toyota Land Cruiser. Khan carried that little girl for a good part of Bajrangi Bhaijaan, so one supposes he’s something of a weightlifter too. Heck, given his clothing-optional stance in his films, a strong case could be made for Khan’s connection to the Olympics: after all, at one time, competitors were required to be nude.

But the backlash is understandable — even necessary. And not just from sports fans. Salim Khan objected to his son being labelled a Bollywood star. (“Milkhaji it is not Bollywood it is the Indian Film Industry and that too the largest in the world.”) But one rarely finds representatives from the regional film industries in these events. It’s either Amitabh Bachchan singing the national anthem before a Twenty20 World Cup match, or Aishwarya Rai attending the opening ceremony of the 20th Commonwealth Games in Scotland (“her lustrous[lús-trus(glorious,चमकीला)] locks tied in a high bun,” ran the breathless PR prose). Adding to the giddy Bollywood-ness of it all, Rai has come out in support of Khan. She said: “Anybody who is doing good to represent the country and anybody who is working or seeking or standing out for whatever vocation we have in the country, be it sports, arts or music, I think that’s wonderful and needs to be recognised.”

But who exactly is the recognition for? Given our celebrity-crazed times, the latest Salman Khan controversy has already grabbed more attention than Dipa Karmakar, the first Indian woman gymnast to qualify for the Olympics, and Dattu Bhokanal, who qualified for the sculling event. How dispiriting that representing India at the highest level of international sport is still going to get you fewer headlines than if you are a big star who needs no more headlines to further your career. No wonder cricketer Gautam Gambhir was so outraged[awt,reyjd(angry,गुस्सा)], saying he’d have been happy if someone like shooter Abhinav Bindra, India’s only individual winner of an Olympic gold medal, had been picked for the post. “There are a lot of sportspersons who have done a lot for sport,” Gambhir said. “Ideally, one among them should have been given that responsibility.”

There are those who feel that star power works, because stars bring attention to sports. But what sport are we talking about? It’s not as though Khan has sponsored a kho-kho team, directing the nation’s eyes to the small sport, the way, say, Aamir Khan drew our attention to dyslexia with Taare Zameen Par. It’s not as though he has agreed to take on even a fraction of the training costs for Karmakar or Bhokanal, as they consider going abroad to hone their technique. Of course, Khan isn’t required to do this. The expectation comes up only because of the question: What has Salman Khan done to deserve this honour? Khan said in a recent interview that more people have begun to watch cricket after film stars got involved in the sport, and that his role as goodwill ambassador will draw new viewers to the Olympics coverage on TV. But will these viewers be tuning in to watch the sports or Khan?

It’s nothing new to have a celebrity lend his or her name to hard-sell topics. (Let us assume, for just an incredulous[in'kred-yu-lus(unbelievable,अविश्वासपूर्ण)] second, that the Olympics are a little-known undertaking that we’d never tune into were it not for Salman Khan.) George Clooney, for instance, speaks about Darfur. But has he made a difference? In December 2014, The Guardian, in a story titled “What happened to Darfur after George Clooney came to town?”, asked locals whether Darfur needed another global campaign. A North Darfuri said, “Yes, for sure, but not just a media or celebrity campaign. It should be led by the major powers in the UN Security Council to pressure conflicting parties to reach a comprehensive and just peace.” In other words, star power can only do so much. If more people watch cricket today, is it because of the excitement around IPL and T20 or because the camera keeps cutting to Preity Zinta? And we were already a cricket-crazy nation. How much have stars helped in the case of pro-Kabaddi?

At the end, people look at stars because they like looking at stars. If they ended up doing what stars asked them to do, then no one would be smoking, literacy levels would be at an all-time high, and everyone looking for a vacation would be boarding a flight to Gujarat. And to have such a polemical[pu'le-mi-kul(controversial,विवादस्पद)] actor at the centre of India’s Olympic campaign not only detracts attention from the sportsmen and sportswomen who are the rightful stars, it demeans their contribution, their individual ability to make us care about their winning or losing. But India being India, we have not seen the last of Bollywood being called on to awaken our benighted selves to other less popular aspects of Incredible India. Here’s an appeal to Priyanka Chopra to revive Gond art, Alia Bhatt to tell us why the Indian Space Research Organisation is so awesome, Akshay Kumar to take Carnatic music to the North, Shah Rukh Khan to crack open a book of Upanishads…

Courtesy:the hindu

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Tuesday, 3 May 2016

Know your English

What is the meaning of ‘swashbuckler’?
(SA Faizal, Kottayam)
This is an example of how the meaning of a word has changed over the years. Nowadays, when we think of a ‘swashbuckler’, the person that immediately comes to mind is Captain Jack Sparrow — a character in the ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ film series. ‘Swashbuckler’ is mostly used now to refer to someone who is cocky and is always on the lookout for adventure. He is skilled at using weapons and travels the world looking for hidden treasure. Originally, the word was used to refer to a loud bully. The word ‘swash’ meant to move about in an arrogant manner, and ‘buckler’ referred to the small shield that a fighter held in one hand to protect himself. The original swashbuckler was a bully who made a lot noise by banging his sword against his ‘buckler’. But thanks to Hollywood and Bollywood movies, our notion of a ‘swashbuckler’ has changed completely.
*In many of his movies, he played the role of a dashing swashbuckler.
How is the word ‘disparate’ pronounced?
(K Laxmikanth, Erode)
The vowel in the first syllable is like the ‘i’ in ‘bit’, ‘sit’ and ‘kit’, while the ‘a’ in the next two syllables sounds like the ‘a’ in ‘china’. The final ‘e’ is silent. The word is pronounced DIS-pe-ret with the stress on the first syllable. Some people tend to drop the vowel in the second syllable and pronounce the word ‘DIS-pret’. The word comes from the Latin ‘disparatus’ meaning ‘to divide or separate’. In English, ‘disparate’ is mostly used to mean ‘very different’. When you say that two objects are disparate, you are suggesting that it will be impossible to compare them for they are very different from each other — they belong to different groups, and are very dissimilar.
*Getting the disparate groups to work together is proving to be impossible.
What is the meaning and origin of ‘to chomp at the bit’?
(RV Seetha, Chennai)
Most of us get rather restless when we are made to wait for someone or something. To become impatient is one of the meanings of the expression ‘chomp at the bit’. It can also be used to mean to be anxious to do something.
*The players were chomping at the bit to enter the field.
It is possible to say ‘champ at the bit’ as well. The expression comes from the world of horses. The ‘bit’ refers to a horse’s mouthpiece; the metal piece that a rider puts in the mouth of the animal in order to direct and control it. When you ‘chomp’ or ‘champ’ on something, you chew or munch on it rather nosily. When a horse gets restless or impatient, it begins to ‘chomp’ on the ‘bit’.
Which is correct: Geetha went for a swim or Geetha took a swim?
(K Nandini, Chennai)
Both are acceptable. In the case of certain activities like swimming and walking, Americans tend to say ‘take’, while the British use ‘go’.
*She goes for a walk/swim in the morning.
*I took a swim/walk in the evening.
******

Courtesy:the hindu

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Game of visas

The Indian government’s handling of the issue of visas to Chinese “activists” like Dolkun Isa, Ray Wong and Lu Jinghua has shown our systems and strategy in poor light. Let us for a moment accept the ministry of external affairs’ (MEA’s) explanation that there was a sound technical basis for revoking the visas of these individuals. But visa policy and practice are seldom only about technicalities. The way in which we have invoked the technicality argument has actually exposed the brittleness[bri-tul-nus(crispness,भंगुरता)] of our system.

Consider the most prosaic[prow'zey-ik(unimaginative,अकल्पनाशील)] matter first. In this day and age, with investments in databases and surveillance, it boggles the mind that the Indian government discovered whom it was granting the visa to, what political baggage they might be carrying, after the fact. If Interpol notices are flagged in our systems after the visa has been granted, we come out looking as either administratively incompetent or dissimulating.

This is particularly true in a system of visa granting, where the scrutiny[skroo-t(u-)nee(examine,जाँच)] of Chinese or Pakistani applicants is supposedly incredibly labyrinthine[la-bu'rin,thIn(complex,जटिल)] and complicated. If these systems allow such apparently easy slip-ups between the ministry of home affairs (MHA) and the MEA, as is being claimed, one wonders what the backend of our process is like, especially when the frontend has been made so complicated. The first rule of exercising power in the international system is that your knowledge bases must prevent you from making repeated mistakes in the first place; cleaning up messes is symbolically and politically more costly. No wonder, few are willing to take the Indian government at its word.

Second, our visa framework has been a standing testament to our lack of confidence in our liberal democracy. It is no secret that getting conference visas is onerous[ó-nu-rus(heavy,भारी)]. It is also no secret that our own government officials used to be frustrated by the government’s capriciousness[ku'pri-shus-nus(unpredictability,अस्थिरता)] in processing conference visas, and would advise applicants to get tourist visas. Perhaps it is a good thing that we are moving away from this “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy that prevailed. But for a liberal democracy, we should be ashamed of our suspicion of anything to do with ideas. Consultants, people who move around money, lobbyists, arms traders, corporate business, and tourists who keep their mouth shut, do not go through the kind of scrutiny that people coming to “conferences” do.

The scandal is that Indian institutions are still required to take permission from the MHA for conferences: It is as if anyone who deals with ideas is inherently the object of suspicion more than anyone who deals with money. Admittedly, a few people who get in might have nutty ideas. But we should have enough confidence that open countervailing arguments will defeat them. But our process of conference visas itself often costs us the goodwill of many in the world of ideas who are India’s real friends. But most importantly, the very technicality the MEA is rightly invoking, the distinction between how tourists and businessmen are treated and how those who trade in ideas are treated, exposes our paranoia. This paranoia was enshrined by the Congress and continues to this day, despite the fact that on issues like electronic visas, this government has taken welcome steps.

Third, and most importantly, this episode has exposed the lack of a framework in our visa regime. Of course, sometimes countries have to respond to circumstances, and granting visas can be an instrument of international diplomacy. But behind it, there needs to be a framework of principles that guides our policy; you cannot be entirely transactional and have credibility. Whatever the technical explanations given by the government, the fact is that we framed a political narrative around a new-formed machismo: We can stand up to China. The government sought to politically insinuate this at any rate. But it does look like we ate humble pie. If we are being honest, we have to admit that dealing with China is not going to be easy on a number of issues where our values clash.

But more seriously, what does standing up to China actually mean? Does it mean giving a visa to someone whom the Chinese might not like? Or should it mean standing up for the values that should set us apart from China: A lack of fear in the space of ideas, openness to dissidents, and so forth. We already lost the plot by defining “standing up to China” in the former manner. The problem with short-term machismo realism is that it fails to understand the foundations of long-term power.

Of course, we regulate the entry of people on various watchlists, or those who might pose clear and imminent[i-mu-nunt(close,निकट)] danger, and so forth. But is it a healthy policy for a liberal democracy to deny people visas for research they might do or ideas they might have? How much more respect and credibility we would gain if we said we do not target people for their political positions. The sad fact is that we do, and this is what the world will take away from this episode. The irony is that we come across as trying to compete with China by being China. Surely that is not a winning strategy for India.

Finally, if we are prepared to signal playing the short-term tough-love game with China, we better be fully prepared for it. First, if there is a change of course, have you thought through as many contingencies as possible before acting? Second, governments have still not understood the need for putting out credible and authoritative narratives of what they are up to. The public perception is that, particularly with our neighbours, we now oscillate from gestures of reconciliation, and then when rebuffed, feel the need to show knee-jerk resistance. This might be unfair to the MEA but it is hard to shake off the perception that our diplomacy is focused more on being tactical, on being seen to do things, than on the larger framework. Perhaps there is a secret understanding this fiasco has produced. But then the problem with trying to keep too many secrets is that you will always end up looking a bit too clever by half. That is how we come across. But finally, in dealing with China, the issue is not just how we deal with their power. It is also whether we know what we stand for. It is not clear that we do.

Courtesy:indian express

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Sunday, 1 May 2016

How to teach Sanskrit

Human Resource Development Minister Smriti Irani’s written reply in the Lok Sabha recently on teaching Sanskrit in the Indian Institutes of Technology has come in for criticism, with the Aam Aadmi Party asking her to choose between Java and Sanskrit, and so on. This is another case where the kernel of good intention (supporting serious scholarship on Sanskrit) has been lost in an ill-designed formulation.

The state of Sanskrit scholarship in the country — in proportion to how important Sanskrit is to our intellectual heritage — is truly abysmal[u'biz-mu(very bad,बहुत ख़राब)]. While there are of course, individually, a few good scholars, there is very little by way of sustained intellectual achievement that would meet international standards. Unfortunately, people get to be defensive around scholarship in the culture and the humanities — no one will dispute that very little Nobel-quality physics is done in India, but anything to do with culture immediately has as its reflex an outpouring of claims as to India’s special spiritual genius.

No serious scholarship can know in advance what it seeks to achieve. If we already knew how great Sanskrit’s achievement was, what would be the need to simply confirm it? Serious scholarship will be able to discover both Sanskrit’s achievements and its blind spots. Beyond greatness, even the fact of pigeonholing Sanskrit to science and engineering is baffling[ba-fu-ling(difficult,कठिन)] — science in India, like anywhere in the world till the rise of the modern West — was never the centre of research or scholarly endeavour[in'de-vu(effort,प्रयत्न)] . Sanskrit, as an intellectual idiom, would not be able to disentangle “scientific” texts entirely from metaphysical, philosophical, literary or ethical traditions. One is fundamentally missing the point in looking for scattered[ska-tud(distributed,बिखरा)] scientific information, or thinking that one can simply excise the non-scientific parts from the scientific parts of a text. One risks misunderstanding both science and “non-science” (religion/philosophy/literature, etc), when, instead, one should look for a new meaning in both that should serve as new ways of negotiating contemporary dilemmas[dI'le-mu(confusion,दुविधा)]. It is only in this sense that the Sanskrit intellectual tradition can be a living, rather than dead history. Perhaps the concentration on Sanskrit science is to move away from the more controversial social aspects of the Sanskrit world (questions of gender, caste, etc). But this is foolhardy[fool,haa-dee(bold,दुःसाहसी)] as there is no way science can be separated from the social, and there should be confidence that the study of Sanskrit can take into account the weaknesses of that world view, even as it celebrates Sanskrit’s great achievements.

Rekindling interest

But the problem is deeper still. How does one get an average student (in today’s app-dominated world) who may be interested in science fiction, to be interested in Sanskrit culture too? The way Sanskrit is taught institutionally in India is essentially through syllabi that have been frozen for decades, and in an examination format that kills innovative thinking. To really make Sanskrit come alive, one has to ask questions that feed into contemporary intellectual questions — how might the sophisticated systematisations of doubt in Indian philosophy feed into similar questions being asked in Western analytic philosophy? How might the idea of mood developed so eloquently[e-lu-kwunt-lee(meaningful way,अर्थपूर्ण ढंग से)] by Bhavabhuti relate to ideas of self in modern Telugu literature? What was the relationship between science, ethics and politics then, and how might this conjuncture relate to present dilemmas? While, ironically, scientists might be terrified at how to translate thermodynamics into Sanskrit, it is the humanities that can relate most meaningfully to the set of concerns that have been so ably articulated in Sanskritic formulations of the ethical life. Far from finding some ancient, obscure[ub'skyûr(unclear,अस्पष्ठ)] text that might have some misty relation to a European mathematical concept, the humanities can best treat Sanskrit as a contemporary language with the vital resources available for today’s world.

We are far from any of this happening, because we have failed to separate the wheat from the chaff. The aim is to teach Sanskrit not out of a mindless patriotism, but as it speaks to other disciplines — literature, or historiography, or science. This is by no means an easy task. To many, for example, Sanskrit literature is too ornate, and does not have the easy identification that, say, reading Greek dramatists might have. The aesthetics are difficult to appreciate — how many things can be endlessly and tediously[tee-dee-us-lee(boringly,उबाऊ)] compared to the lotus or the moon? The challenge of pedagogy is to be able to make this Sanskritic world interesting — and only those who have tried hard to teach it know how difficult this is.

Further, Sanskrit is reduced to a language — as if all ideas can be reduced to language. To teach Sanskrit in a civilisational sense is not to have to learn Sanskrit (a difficult language for most to learn, with its endless tables), at least in the early stages. Why would one be motivated to learn at all unless one has glimpsed at least some of its treasures by translation? But for this sense of wonder at that world, one must be able to have clearly experienced that world — translation itself may not suffice, and there would need to be a whole range of pedagogical and intermediate material explaining the special significance of Sanskrit ideas — be they in science or any other field. This is the work the government would do well to support and encourage — but, unfortunately, we do not yet have indication that their thoughts have travelled that far ahead.

Pride in our culture might be a necessary first step, but the real work (for scholars, government, private patrons, lay intellectuals) begins afterwards.

Courtesy:the hindu

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