Dead Right
The RTI Act 2005 was meant to bring about a silent revolution. But
judging from the way petitioners are being victimised, it's a bloody
one, finds PRAGYA TIWARI
United stand These are seven of the 10 Mumbai activists who backed
Srikant Prabhu, 68, (far right) when he sought information on a
powerful builders' lobby. The police was called when they accompanied
Prabhu to his hearing at the State Information Commission. They spent
two days in jail. The case against them is still on
PHOTO: TUSHAR MANE
THREE RIGHT to Information (RTI) activists were murdered in this
country in three months — Datta Patil on 26 May, Amit Jethwa on 20
July and Ramdas Ghadegaonkar on 27 August. Besides, TEHELKA has
tracked many more who are living in fear of their lives. Here we tell
heartbreaking stories of petitioners who have been harassed for having
the temerity to use this Act. This is not the kind of stock-taking
that a democracy should be doing to mark five years of the RTI Act
2005.
Amit Jethwa, a 32 year old RTI activist from Gir, was shot dead by two
assailants on a motorbike outside the Ahmedabad High Court on the 20th
of July. Less than a month ago Jethwa had used information obtained
under the Right To Information Act 2005 to expose the network of
illegal mining run by BJP MP Dinu Solanki in the Gir forest area. On
the 7th of September, the MP's nephew Shiva Solanki was arrested for
Jethwa's murder.
The horror of this story is a small part of the sweeping phenomenon of
intimidation, harassment and murder of RTI petitioners throughout the
country. 9 RTI activists have been killed this year.
But murder is usually the last step in a build up of harassment that
takes many forms. Invention of cases and imprisonment is the most
common form of police harassment, but it is not unlikely for the force
to physically assault petitioners either.
In other cases, intimidation is dealt out via less 'legitimate'
channels. From Jharkhand, Sumit Kumar Mahato, Convenor of the RTI
Forum, talks about being manhandled by goons for seeking information
about funds spent on the building of a road. Rolly Shivhare of Jaano
Re Abhiyaan from MP says, "I filed an application to ask for the
Midday Meal Scheme budget from the Panchayat and Rural Welfare
Department. I received a threatening phone call asking what I would do
with this information. The caller said he was the 'Development
Commissioner'. When the police traced the call, it was found that it
had indeed come from his office, though the commissioner himself
denied any knowledge of it."
RTI activists have learnt through unfortunate examples not to take
such initial threats lightly. Down south in Karnataka, Venkatesh, 32,
had filed an application to expose the Bangalore Development
Authorities' involvement in a land scam case. Despite receiving
threats, he continued to pursue the case alone. In April 2009,
Venkatesh's body was found near the divider of a highway. His death
was registered as a traffic accident. The RTI Study Centre filed an
RTI application for the post-mortem report which revealed that his
head injury was caused by a blunt instrument. On investigation, four
people were charged. They have all been linked to the contractors
involved in the scam.
Malay Bhattacharya, secretary of the West Bengal RTI Manch
differentiates between the harassment in urban and rural areas, "In
urban West Bengal, applicants are harassed by the police who come to
their house and threaten them and their family members." In villages,
he says, the authorities ensure that those filing RTI applications are
boycotted socially.
Patterns differ from state to state but every state can be mapped with
such stories, each one more horrific than the other. From tiny tribal
villages to the bustling lanes of Mumbai and Delhi; from farmers and
lorry drivers to middle class professionals- cases of criminal
harassment following RTI applications abound everywhere. The monitory
and emotional fallouts in all cases are life altering for the
petitioners and their families.
In most cases, the petitioners that are attacked have already been
through harassment, because of rigorous attempts to obstruct their
application. Almost always the information is refused at first.
Harinesh Pandya, founder of Mahiti Adhikar Gujarat Pahel says, "Under
s.4 of the Act, all departments must pro-actively make mandatory
disclosures. But they routinely fail to do so. From over 55,000 calls
received on our helpline, nearly 80% relate to information that is
already covered under S. 4."
It is common practice for officials to say the information one is
asking for endangers 'national security' or is 'secret'. "We were
denied basic information like the names of people booked under the
UAPA and the number of Special Police Officers in Orissa," says
Sharanya Nayak, from Action Aid, Orissa. In almost every state rules
that go against either the spirit or the letter of the Act impede its
affectivity (effectivity? check this). For instance, Chittaranjan
Behera, freelance consultant on governance issues, informs us that the
Orissa government's rules relating to payment required to access
information make it extremely difficult for villagers to avail of
their rights. Similarly, activist Izhar Ansari tells us, "In UP the
summons for the appeal hearings are sent by plain post by the State
Information Commission – not even registered or speed post." So often
those summoned claim not to have received it to get away.
What is most dangerous is that in many instances the RTI application
form requires the applicant to provide their permanent address, photo
identification and father/spouse names .The availability of these
details makes the applicant vulnerable to attacks.
So what needs to be done to reinstate the spirit of the Act? Clearly,
there's a need to re-assess the rules for filing applications made by
each state under the Act and ensure that they do not undermine its
intent.
Secondly, it is imperative that all departments covered by the Act are
made to follow S. 4 and make mandatory disclosures pro-actively. This
will reduce the burden of numbers of applications and protect
applicants against the risk of having to ask for it personally. To
begin with the Commissions can allocate a PIO from within each
department who takes on the responsibility of disclosure. In addition,
providing monetary compensation to applicants who have to file for
information that must be in the public domain will act as a deterrent
for the errant departments.
Thirdly, a central advisory body, similar to the one set up to
supervise NREGA, must be constituted. This council, comprising all
stakeholders, can act as mediator between the users of the Act and the
government. Its principal role will be to monitor problems of
implementation and complaints of harassment and make recommendations
on these bases.
The fourth issue which needs to be addressed is grievance redressal.
RTI applications throw up three kinds of issues- related to monetary
corruption, improper governance or misuse of power. Once you have the
information you seek, it can only be useful if it allows you to take
action against wrongdoers. The existing investigative agencies are
either toothless or biased. For instance, in most states the Anti
Corruption Bureau directs a complaint back to the department against
which it is filed for rectification. The police, on the other hand,
when not directly the subject of the complaint, are almost always in
cohorts with the politician-bureaucrat-businessman nexus implicated.
Setting up Ombudsman bodies – Lokayuktas – can fill in this vacuum if
they are empowered to act strongly and the public plays a role in
electing the members. These Lokayuktas will investigate charges of
corruption against different organs of the government. Similarly a
properly enabled and constituted nationwide Public Grievances
Commission can take up issues of mis-governance where these organs are
not functioning properly.
Finally, people's movements should take up the harassment of RTI
activists in one of two ways- whenever harassment is reported in a
case, several applications by different persons or organizations must
be filed for the information being sought by the harassed person. It
is always more difficult to silence a collective voice. In the
unfortunate instance of an RTI activist being murdered or tortured,
civil society groups should focus their attention and ensure the
information the individual was seeking is brought out. This will act
as a deterrent to those responsible for such crimes.
However, no legislative reform is complete without a reform of the
executive that implements it. This reform too must begin within the
Commissions themselves. A source, who does not wish to be named,
reveals that in UP all Information Commissioners are political
appointees. "Four out of eleven are affiliated to the BSP, seen in
every major rally," says this source. "And the rest are from the
Samajwadi Party, who will be replaced by candidates from the ruling
party as soon as their term runs out." This is a nation wide trend. In
Haryana, Subhash, Editor of India Post – an RTI newsletter that is
published fortnightly from Rohtak filed applications that revealed
shocking corruption within the State Information Commission.
At the root of this is the lack of transparency in the selection
procedure. Centrally, the PM along with a cabinet minister nominated
by him and the leader of opposition choose the Commissioners. At the
state level the selection is carried out by the CM, one of his
ministers and the opposition leader of the Legislative assembly. In
principle the Act envisages people from all walks of life in the
Commission – allotting a greater role to civil society. However in
practice the commission is seen as an extension of the civil services,
populated almost entirely by retired bureaucrats who are so entrenched
in the system, it is impossible for them to act against their own
colleagues. To repair this, posts in the commissions must be reserved
for members of civil society who do not have a background in
government service.
All of these changes can and should be brought about without amending
the Act, because over the last couple of years the government has
proposed several amendments that will water down its effect. There is
a fear that opening up the Act to improve it might make it vulnerable
to more regressive changes as well.
Besides, the drafting of the Act to a great extent is competent in
itself. The larger problem lies with its implementation that requires
political will. And given that the Act is under the supervision of the
Ministry of Personnel, Public Grievances and Pensions, a portfolio
held by the PM himself, the culpability for its failure goes to the
very top.
This backlash against petitioners is proof of the potency of the RTI.
But what is it that is making thousands of ordinary citizens—who have
hardly ever used laws without the interface of lawyers and
law-keepers-- risk life and liberty for this Act? India fought long
and hard for democracy in a movement that has informed the imagination
of every generation since. Today its very idea is endangered for an
electorate that has limited choices when it comes to choosing leaders.
This Act provides an opportunity for every single citizen to
participate in the governance of the country by asking questions about
decisions made by the state. And when citizens set out to reclaim
their right to govern, there is bound to be a struggle for the
inversion of power. Many activists see this as the new fight for
freedom. But Right to Life is more fundamental to freedom. And without
it, Right to Information cannot fulfill its revolutionary potential.
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The farmer who knew too much
Datta used RTI to expose the worst scams in Ichakarlanji. He was
murdered in May.
Srikant Prabhu is a 68 year old veterinarian doctor from Mumbai. His
voice trembles when he talks and he has trouble hearing but he logs
his complaints with the earnestness of a child. "MHADA gave away my
flat for redevelopment even though it didn't qualify," he says. The
only weapon he had against a powerful builder lobby was the RTI. After
infinite visits to the commission to plead for information he thought
he rightfully deserves, his appeal came up for hearing in May 2009.
Not even in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that he would
spend that night in prison. Nor could any of the other 9 activists who
were put behind bars that fateful day for demanding proper
implementation of the RTI Act. Krishnaraj Rao narrates the antecedents
of this act of terror. "On attending hearings at the State Information
Commission in Mumbai we identified two major problems. The Public
Information Officers who refuse information were not being asked to
justify the refusal as required by the Act. Nor were they being
penalized when the refusal was found to be unjustified. So, we began
to urge the Information commissioner to bring about reforms in this
area. In May 2009, after months of putting us off, the Commission
decided to silence us once and for all." On the day of Prabhu's
hearing 9 of them accompanied him with a letter outlining the
shortcomings of the commission. Before handing it in, one of them
decided to sing the national anthem. The commissioner refused to stand
up. Instead he called the cops and had them arrested for singing the
anthem in an 'inappropriate manner' and 'forcing their way' into a
court hearing, even though it is by law an open court. "In Arthur Road
Jail, as we spent two nights in extreme discomfort, we found out that
the FIR also included rioting, assault and other criminal charges that
were not made out," adds Rao, the shock of betrayal still fresh in his
voice. "We have been out on security since but have received the
chargesheet only in June this year. It has over a hundred pages
missing from the middle, and I think they might add to it later."
The case came up for first hearing in August. But Rao has not given up
on the RTI. He blogs on the victimization of activists and looks for
solutions to the problems of the Act. After years of activism, he is
so used to harassment, he cannot differentiate it from the integrals
of his job. But many of the others are finding it hard to cope with
the harassment of fighting a criminal case and deal with its stigma in
their conservative middle class environments. Prabhu's wife had a
nervous breakdown when she was told he has been arrested. 56 year old
Ravikiran Haldipur is a high school teacher. He tries to imagine his
father's past as a freedom fighter to cope with his ordeal. 49 year
old Chauhan struggles to make sense of the irony that his singing the
national anthem could land them in jail. "For seven generations my
family has been in the army but today the real enemies of the country
are within it so I became an RTI activist," he explains. "It is the
one good thing that has happened to this country after independence,"
he says of the Act. When Gaurang Vora, 48, a pathologist by profession
also falls back on the example of the freedom struggle to justify his
fight, one begins to see clearly that for a generation that inherited
the dreams of independence straight from its harbingers, the right to
participate in governance through the RTI Act has become the meaning
of freedom. But it is not easy to hold on to this meaning after their
personal liberty has been put on stake with such callous ease by
authorities. When Prabhu tells you that he has still not received the
information he was appealing for on that day the difficulty of their
larger pursuits becomes even more entrenched.
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Did curiosity kill?
An investigation into a controversial sand mafia case might have cost
Ramdas Ghadegaonkar his life
RAMDAS GHADEGAONKAR
In death, as in life, Ramdas Ghadegaonkar is stuck in 'due process'.
Ghadegaonkar's body was found at Naya Monda, in Maharashtra's Nanded
district, at around 11 pm on August 27, 2010. Initial reports that
spread like wildfire through Nanded said he had been stoned to death
at around 7 pm. Yet the local police station has registered his death
as an accident. Nanded's Superintendent Of Police, Sandeep Karnik,
maintains, "there were no external injuries on his body".
If only things were so simple. Nanded is the hometown and erstwhile
constituency of Maharashtra's Chief Minister Ashok Chavan. It's still
a Congress bastion. And Ghadegaonkar was a member of the Shiv Sena. So
an angry protest has been sparked off by Shiv Sena Zilla Pramukh Dilip
Thakur. This spark has set the local papers on fire. It has caught on
to national news to transform into a raging inferno that the Sena
leaders are basking in the glow of. A postmortem of Ghadegaonkar's
body has been ordered and carried out. Why? What would the nation want
with a Shiv Sainik murdered in a small town?
Truth is, Ghadegaonkar hadn't visited the Sena office in three months
before his demise. And he had joined the Sena only three years ago.
Well before that, and since, Ghadegaonkar has been – first and
foremost – an RTI activist. His death is the ninth death of an RTI
activist this year. And he is still stuck in due process. For in
Nanded, a post mortem report takes fifteen days to be prepared – and
Ghadegaonkar's is still in the waiting.
And due process had paid off before for 43 year old Ghadegaonkar.
Hailing from a village called Ghadegaon, he worked in a clothes shop
for fifteen years after passing his class 10. "Then things began to
change," says his brother Shivaji. "He would leave home early in the
morning and come back late at night. He would keep talking about some
andolan or the other." What andolan? Ghadegaonkar had joined the Janta
Dal, but politics was never his mainstay. Social activism was. "He had
a group of friends – local activists and journalists – who would
'inspire' him," says Shivaji, not knowing whether to rue or be proud
of his brother's lofty ideals. "He did whatever he did for the
people." Corruption, a simple but core issue in such parts, was the
target that Ghadegaonkar set his sights on. When his newfound circle
of friends told him about the RTI Act, he knew he had a shoulder on
which to rest his gun.
And fire. Ghadegaonkar hit bulls eye by filing an RTI questioning the
allotment of food grains under the Public Distribution System. An
investigation spurred by his efforts revealed how most of these grains
were being black-marketed mid-way. His next target was the sand mafia.
Contractors were paying their way into silencing officials as they
freeloaded on sand which belonged to the state. Moreover, they were
flouting contract norms by using machines when they had a deal with
the state to provide employment to the poor. Ghadegaonkar's RTI put a
stop to this. It is rumoured to have caused Rs 15 lakh worth of
penalty to certain contractors.
To whom? This is not known. "He wouldn't make his family a part of his
activism," says his brother. Ghadegaonkar has left behind a wife and
two sons aged seven and thirteen. His eighteen year old daughter is
married. She has fallen terribly ill on hearing of her father's death.
His wife can't afford that luxury. In terms of material wealth,
Ghadgaonkar has left behind an acre of farmland, which his wife has to
now look after, and on it a one room hut.
"The RTI doesn't fit into Shiv Sena's modus operandi," says Prakash
Marewar, a fellow Shiv Sainik. This is hardly surprising given that
after Shiv Sainiks have gotten away with a plethora of criminal acts,
Ghadegaonkar died while lawfully exercising his right to information.
"It was made clear to Ghadegaonkar that his RTIs were his own business
– so we don't know the details of the sand mafia case," adds Marewar.
All that is known is that Ghadegaonkar had an argument with two or
three men at around 2 pm, at Naya Monda itself, on the day of his
demise. The argument nearly came to blows, and policemen who were
around had to intervene to ward off a fight. This is what local
witnesses say. But the police deny any knowledge. National coverage of
his death has led Shivaji to hope that the CBI will come in on the
case. "But that will only be possible after the post mortem report is
out," says Shivaji. "If it takes too long," he adds. "I will file an
RTI." That will cut through the process.
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The leak he rejected
Gopubandhu was beaten, jailed and lost all he owned
GOPUBANDHU CHHATRIA
PHOTO: SHARAT KUMAR
PUTEL
In a remote village called Jarasingha, in Orissa's Bolangir district,
Gopubandhu Chhatria (45), born into a family of poor Dalit farmers,
has been tilling his share of less than an acre of land ever since he
can remember. A couple of years ago the Block Development officer of
the area passed orders for a portion of his land to be taken for the
construction of a check dam. Chhatria was not compensated but he
believed in the project too much to care. For a farmer at the mercy of
erratic rainfall year after year, continued supply of water for
irrigation holds the promise of a life of sustenance and dignity. But
his hope was shortlived—- the dam was built with such substandard
material, that it leaked out the water meant to irrigate farmlands.
After he had fruitlessly knocked on many doors to complain, a clerk in
the collector's office told Chhatria about the RTI Act. In 2008, armed
with a booklet detailing the procedure in Oriya, Chhatria went on to
become the first person from his district to file an application and
ask the authorities about how they had spent the money sanctioned for
the dam. He believed in this tiny booklet as he had in the promise of
development. In February 2009 the Assistant Block Development Officer
summoned him to his office and after refusing to answer any of his
questions, offered him a sum of Rs. 10000 to not bring up the matter
again. When Chhatria refused this bribe he was beaten up in the ABDO's
office itself. As he stood outside the office wailing, policemen from
the local police station arrived and arrested him on charges of
assault and for 'creating a ruckus' in the ABDO's office.
For four days, he was locked up and beaten. He was given no food nor
water for the first three days and not allowed to meet or speak to
anyone either. For the whole of next year Chhatria fought his case
drawing on every bit of his meager resources. Finally on the 24th of
July 2010, he was acquitted of all charges.
But his land, which he had hoped to turn fertile, and filed an RTI
for, had been mortgaged in this process. Chhatria is now a landless
labour, sustaining a family of three young children, an aging father
and wife on daily wages of Rs 70. "There are days when I have to ask
my wife to work as a labourer to make ends meet", he says in a low
voice. But the fear that usually keeps ordinary folks from taking on
the system has given way in the face of extreme hardships. All the
corruption and injustice he sees around him is now part of his own
reality. He has gone on to file RTI applications to enquire into
corruption related to development funds, distribution of land and
grains to the poor and NREGA. He has received no information from any
of these RTIs, only fresh threats. But Information about the check
damn on his land did come finally - eight months after his arrest. He
has written his complaint based on it to the Chief Minister of Orissa.
He believes he will hear from him. "I believe the light of justice
will spread across the country," says Chhatria, who lives in a
dilapidated hut with no electricity. "Because I routinely pray for
this."
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'They said they'd kill me'
Goverdhan Singh asked policemen about their assets. He is now on the run
GOVERDHAN SINGH
Goverdhan Singh, 30, has been on the run for the last six months. In
February this year he had filed a case against the SP and Additional
SP of Bikaner district for forging the documents that an RTI
application filed by him had asked for. As soon as the High Court
ruled against them, the force unleashed its vendetta. Within a couple
of days nine criminal cases were filed against Singh. Similar cases
were filed against his family, friends and lawyer. His house was
sealed and the police confiscated all personal property. During the
raid one of the officers told his aging mother that her son would be
killed in a fake encounter if she didn't urge him to withdraw his
case. Immediately after, she suffered a brain hemorrhage that left her
blind in one eye. Singh breaks down while narrating this last incident
but otherwise his resolve is steely. "All I want is that an agency
outside of Bikaner investigate this. Then I am sure all the cases
against me will be proven to be false. How can the police that has
manufactured them be expected to do justice with me?" he asks, his
logic as infallible as his faith in the legal system. Singh claims his
wife was beaten up during the raid as well. Now the 25 year old who
has spent most of her adult life as a traditional Rajput woman in
Purdah, has taken to fighting her husband's case, representing him
before authorities while he is in hiding. In this period he has been
able to meet her and their infant son only once briefly.
The birth of Singh's tragedy can be traced back, like many others, to
the passage of the RTI Act in 2005. Enthused by its possibilities,
Singh, began to take on the corruption in the system by filing RTI
applications and following up the information he received by FIR's
against those incriminated. He claims to have taken on the might of
politicians in land scams and bank authorities in frauds, but it was
only when he took on the police, that threats that always loomed large
finally materialized. Singh worked as a collection agent for telecom
companies, a line of work that is often dubious in reputation. As he
changes disguises, fleeing cities, friendless and afraid, Singh asks,
his voice breaking with despair once again, "Even if they think I was
a goon, is a goon not entitled to human rights?" Everyone is. And
everyone is entitled to ask questions under the RTI. The only thing is
relevant is what is being asked and what the answers portend.
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The RTI Boomerang
Asith Sangma exposed massive corruption but he is the one battling lawsuits now
ASITH SANGMA
PHOTO: THOMAS LIM
32 year old activist Asith Sangma is a harried man. He lives in
Baghmara, at South Garo Hills district in Meghalaya with his wife and
five children – all below the age of 15. He draws Rs 8,000 rupees a
month as salary from a cultural and environmental NGO he has helped
found. He has a defamation case against him for Rs 60,00,000. He has
lost Rs 2,00,000 in the last two years in fighting this case. "All
because I believed in the power of the RTI," he says.
Sangma and his wife came to Baghmara, newly wed, when he was 22. He
made it his home with time, but was struck by the rampant corruption
he saw in development schemes that had sprung up all around the town.
In 2005, he read about the RTI in the Shillong Times. He asked a
friend who was with the district council how the RTI could be used and
proceeded to use it in 2007. In 2008 he tasted success with RTI
applications which exposed the misappropriation of funds by the local
Assistant District Magistrate Santosh Marak. Most of the scam lay in
the misappropriation of rice meant for food for work programmes, and
in siphoning off of money meant for buying government vehicles. The
Anti Corruption Bureau stepped in and filed a report on Marak, but no
action was taken. The buck stopped there.
Or did it? Marak knew where to hit Sangma. His vengeance did not
indict him in a criminal case or break his bones – it drained him
financially.
His Rs 60,00,000 defamation case has left Sangma, who was already
struggling to make ends meet on a meager salary, with little appetite
for activism. "The money apart, the case kills me because of the
amount of time I have to spend reporting to court," says Sangma. All
because he believed in the power of the RTI.
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Chennai's need to know
One RTI too many landed these three in a police station or two
MADHAV, ELANGO AND GOPAL
At 11 15 am on September 1, 2010, three men, each in their thirties,
stood blindfolded outside the Raj Bhavan at Chennai. They held up
placards that read: "Non Transparent Appointment To Uphold
Transparency?" They were protesting the appointment of former Chief
Secretary K S Sripathy as Chief Information Commissioner of the state.
The appointment, they believe, is unlawful, because applications from
other candidates had not been invited and an approval of the selection
committee (mandatory under the RTI Act) not taken. Also, Sripathy is
close to Chief Minister Karunanidhi, and had as a bureaucrat blatantly
opposed the implementation of the RTI Act. The three youth shouted
slogans: "Save RTI". Once. Twice. On their third shout, they were
picked up by policemen, tossed into a white Tata Sumo and whisked
away.
What made these three blindfolded men so dangerous to the State of
Tamil Nadu? Why were they not allowed their right to peaceful protest
in a public place that they had rightful access to?
One of these three was 30 year old V Madhav, an ex Infosys employee
who gave up his job in 2006 to join an NGO that would help him use the
RTI. In a short span of four years, Madhav has become an icon of sorts
for RTI users in Tamil Nadu. His applications have made IAS and IPS
officers disclose their assets. They have inspected the records of the
State Secretariat, state government hospitals, the Chennai Central
Prison and the Chennai Municipal Corporation. Most significantly,
Madhav's RTIs have questioned the RTI itself – ensured that charges
not be levied on those seeking information and exposed that the Chief
Minister's office itself was lacking a PIO. Madhav also liaisons with
the media, so that information obtained under these RTIs are available
to all in the next day's newspapers.
Another was Gopalkrishnan, a 36 year old mechanical engineer who
remembers bitterly how he was refused admission into engineering
colleges for two consecutive years because principals everywhere
demanded a capitation fee that he was unable to pay. "My father had
been a bus driver and labour unionist," he says. "He had taught me to
fight." So Gopalkrishnan fought a court case for two long years to
secure a college admission that his merit should have earned him. But
he did not give up on the fight. Two and a half years ago he joined an
NGO called Five Pillars which taught him how to use the RTI. The Tamil
Nadu Electricity Board, the Tamil Nadu Slum Clearance Board, the
Chennai Municipal Corporation – have all faced the brunt of
Gopalkrishnan's RTIs. He has forced them to address issues ranging
from garbage disposal and mosquito control to road building.
The third blindfolded man was Siva Elango, 33 – a post graduate in
journalism and politics, whose 60 page Tamil guidebook on the RTI was
a bestseller at the last Chennai book fair – doing over 10,000 copies.
The guidebook has a helpline number which Elango runs to provide step
by step directions on the phone to those filing an RTI. And he writes
from experience. Among others, Elango filed an application demanding
the accounts of every state government department in Tamil Nadu by
February. The reason? This ensured all of them had their accounts
ready by the end of the financial year – in March – a rarity for lazy
overconfident state bureaucracy.
No wonder these three men, each in their thirties, were tossed into
that Tata Sumo without a warrant. No wonder they were taken away to
Guindy Police Station and made to wait in a sub inspector's office,
then in a dark room – filled with mosquitoes and the stench of a
nearby toilet. No wonder they were interrogated by policemen who posed
to them poignant questions on the subject of state security, such as:
"What is the colour of your underwear?". No wonder that they were
driven off then in the direction of the magistrate's court – only to
turn at the last minute and detain them at another police station
instead. The Velucheri Police Station. Here Sub Inspector Laxmi
Narayan tried to sweet talk them into never using the RTI again – by
offering them philosophical gems like: "How can you ever eradicate
corruption anyway?"
At 5 15 pm, Madhav, Gopalkrishnan and Elango were released, without
being given an explanation for why they were detained in the first
place. They will file an RTI for that. Even if the appeal has to go up
to Sripathy.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
KISHORI RAM
PHOTO: SONU KISHAN
'They dismantled it brick by brick'
When Kishori Ram asked why land meant for the poor was being used by
the rich, he lost his own home
50 year old Kishori Ram rues the day he filed an RTI application. "And
I rue the day I believed in the state," he screams, crying.
Kishori Ram's ancestral home at Matatpur, in the Bhabua district of
Bihar, belonged to his family for four generations and 50 years. It
had five rooms, occupied by his mother, his three siblings – and their
spouses and children. "We had planned to build more rooms," he says
before breaking down again.
A two-storeyed house with twelve rooms had come up close by. This
belonged to a business family headed by two brothers – Mukh Ram and
Sukh Ram. Mukh Ram was once an officer with the local fire brigade.
The family now ran successful auto parts and car hire businesses. They
had two jeeps and three motorcycles of their own. They were well
connected.
So well connected, that they had built the house they lived in on
government land, meant to be allocated through the Indira Awaas Yojana
to Below-Poverty-Line (BPL) families. What was worse was that the
house extended even beyond this illegally allocated space, and blocked
the road leading to Kishori Ram's home, and 25 other houses in
Matatpur.
His family had gotten used to this nuisance. "No one could do nothing
against Mukh Ram. He had connections in the state police as well as in
the local block development office," says Kishori Ram. "But I thought
otherwise." Kishori Ram lived in Patna. He was a clerk in the state's
Labour Resources Department. Here he had seen and grown to believe in
what he calls "the due process of law".
His family home offered his wife and four sons respite when they
wanted to get away from their cramped apartment. It also offered them
"a connect to history, far away from the disconnect of a city", he
recalls. So he decided to fight Mukh Ram, his wealth, and his
connections with a simple right that was legally made available to all
of India in 2005.
On February 12 2009, Kishori Ram filed an RTI application asking why
government land meant for BPL families was given to Mukh Ram who ran
two prosperous businesses. Soon after Kishori Ram left for Patna,
leaving only his youngest son Inder, aged 12, behind.
They came on the 21st of July, in the dead of the night, at 2 am.
"There was Mukh Ram, Sukh Ram and 12 goons," says Inder, his voice
shaking even today. "They were accompanied by the Police Station in
Charge (Anand Lal Mathur) and Block Development Officer (Ram Vilas
Paswan)." The goons went into the house and pulled out and thrashed
Kishori Ram's brothers and brother in law. They threw the women of the
household out next, dragging some of them by the hair. Then they
looted the home. Sacks of grain, vessels and clothes were bundled up
and taken away.
All this, before they delivered the final blow. Kishori Ram's
ancestral home was dismantled as it had been built. Systematically.
Brick by brick. In front of his family's eyes. "The police officer and
BDO stood by and watched," says Kishori Ram. "Till nothing remained."
Then his family was told to leave Matatpur and never to set foot on it
again. This – that the family who questioned the legitimacy of his
home would be left homeless themselves – was Mukh Ram's idea of poetic
justice. Kishori Ram learnt the hard way that "due process of law" is
defined by the rich and influential.
Today, Kishori Ram's family seeks temporary refuge in the homes of
distant relatives in other villages. Kishori Ram back at his tiny
Patna flat, tries to fight for their right to return. Even if they do,
it will take nothing less than Rs 3,00,000—a sum they can ill afford,
to build a new home. And it will not be their ancestral home. The last
person in his immediate family to see that was its youngest member.
Sights of this home being torn down, his family being beaten and their
belongings being plundered will be Inder's last connect with history.
He too, will rue the day his father filed an RTI application.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A lawyer's plea
Kiran was allegedly kidnapped and tortured for asking the Ferozpur
Cantonment Town uncomfortable questions.
"A revolution is something that must go on," says Kiran Pandey—Words
that resonate in the context of his difficult circumstances. The 31
year old son of an electrician in the Military Engineering Service was
in the 8th standard when he wrote a letter in Hindi asking authorities
to clear garbage from in front of his house. Nothing came of his
petition and there was no way for him to find out why. Years later, in
2005 when the RTI Act was passed, Pande found the tool he had been
looking for back then.
Ferozepur in Punjab is a small cantonment town that is referred to as
'Honeymoon Station', Pandey informs us. Administrators enjoy their
posting to the fullest and leave. The town languishes, lacking basic
civic amenities and development. Between August 2007 and January 2009,
Pande claims to have filed 90 RTI applications to the Cantonment Board
to seek clarifications on how funds had been utilized by them. The
board only replied to 30 of them with obscure and insufficient
information. Pande kept filing appeals to the Central Information
Commission and waiting for them to come up for hearing for two years.
Meanwhile he had been getting threats, allegedly from members of the
board to stop his activism. He notified every institution he could
think of – from the DIG and District Commissioner to the High Court
and Sessions Court. Despite his pleas, on the 12th of July he was
kidnapped from a temple on the outskirts of the town. For a week after
that Pande was tortured brutally. He was attacked by knives everyday
and starved of food and water. With 37 odd slashes on his body, the
heat became all the more unbearable. Pande claims he had no hope of
coming out alive at all. Meanwhile the Bar Council went on strike to
protest one of their colleagues going missing. The local media picked
up the news and with Legislative elections around the corner, pressure
began to build up on the government. Finally, unconscious and severely
injured, he was left on the road outside the police station. Despite
pressure from civil society, all that the police did was register an
FIR for kidnapping.
His kidnappers are on the loose, the scars on his body have not healed
and his back still hurts from the beatings he got. In January this
year unknown goons demolished his chamber in the District Court
complex as well. With his source of income affected, Pande finds it
increasingly hard to support his paralysed father, aging mother and
young sister. But he intends to carry on filing more applications and
FIR's against corrupt officials. He sounds resolute, even manic at
times. " Whenever I find my confidence wavering I go to Bhagat Singh's
Samadhi. It is only 7 kms away", he says. "Trust me you can feel his
presence there." His assertion takes you back to a time when
revolution was religion in Punjab. There is just no other way to
explain such grit.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The activist's environment
Ramesh was slapped with criminal charges for taking on corporate giants.
It is said that most RTI activist who have been harassed are loners.
Not Ramesh Agrawal of Jan Chetna – a group of activists who keep in
touch with each other so they are not alone in their fight against the
powerful. Agrawal, now 55, has been involved with activism since his
college days. He has close working relationships with names of
national importance – like Medha Patkar. One would imagine that these
ties, coupled with his stellar reputation as a social worker, afford
him some protection – no matter who his RTI applications riled.
Agrawal imagined this too. He earns his living from a computer
hardware shop he runs with his two sons, but has been involved in
activism and social work from his college days. He gradually decided
to specialize in environmental activism, but his true calling lay in
defying corporate land grabs. In 2006, for instance, he took on
corporate giant Jindal Steel & Power Ltd because it had procured
agricultural land for a factory near Raipur without the consent of the
villagers in the area – which they were required to take by law. He
obtained this information through the RTI. Then he filed an
application to enquire as to why the Chattisgarh Ministry of
Environment and Forests didn't update their latest projects on their
website. He would go on to file many such RTI applications against
many such giants. "I would be offered bribes, then threatened when I
refused them," says Agrawal. "But noone actually did anything."
Till last year, when he filed an RTI enquiring about a 2400 MW Jindal
Thermal Power Plant 50 km away from Raigarh. The private project had
been set up on Chattisgarh Municipal Development Corporation land –
with neither lease nor a transfer of ownership. "The concerned
ministry cancelled this project, on my filing the RTI," says Agrawal
excitedly. Then the excitement in his voice fades away. For
immediately after this cancellation police cases for blackmail and
defamation were registered against Agrawal. As they were about to
arrest him and throw him into a lock-up, members of Jan Chetna
intervened – and bail was granted.
Agrawal's wife and three children – all in their twenties – were
"shocked when the police came to arrest me". They are equally shocked
that the charges against him – which lack evidence – haven't been
dropped, and the case is ongoing. "I have to keep going to court for
this," he says. "And every time I go my wife and children remember
that day when the police came knocking." They suddenly feel very
alone.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The trapped patient
Davinder, an ageing cancer patient, was charged with assault for
exposing a ration scam.
Davinder Khurana, a 60 year old cancer patient, resides at Sarabha
Nagar at Ludhiana. He lives with his wife and two daughters. Khurana
had a glass scrap business which would pay him Rs 15 to 20,000 a
month. But that was when he didn't have cancer. His cancer treatment
at Mumbai's Tata Memorial Centre has taken away muscle from his left
jaw and chest – and severely impaired the functioning of his left
hand. It has also taken away his earning.
Sarabha Nagar is a posh colony where few, if any use ration cards. But
Khurana, due to his compromised circumstances had to do so. Yet, when
he went to the ration depot in his locality and applied for one it was
denied to him. So he filed an RTI application. This led to the
discovery that government rations in posh Sarabhanagar were being
shown as taken – and then siphoned off to be sold in the black market.
On August 6 Information Commissioner P K Verma asked the DGP Punjab to
institute an enquiry into Khurana's allegations.
On the very same day a criminal case was launched against Khurana and
he was arrested. He was granted bail on the same day, but the
allegations against him are strange. He is accused of beating up the
same ration depot owner who refused him a ration card with a lathi.
"This is impossible," says Khurana. "Because my left hand doesn't even
function." His lawyer has pleaded likewise. Khurana's cancer, that got
him into this spot in the first place, is his only alibi for getting
out of it. But as he calls us regularly, crying about continued police
harassment, his spirit to fight—both the system and his cancer is
giving way.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The tireless crusader
Saleem has been jailed and threatened for his wide-ranging activism.
Saleem Baig was 28 years old, in 2000, when unrest erupted in his
small town of Bhojpur in Moradabad. The police had allegedly
desecrated the Quran in a religious leader's house while interrogating
him. Tension was mounting—communal violence was imminent. Baig joined
the protesters asking for action against the police, but amidst the
chaos he had a simple epiphany—whatever is to be done he must do
himself. Allowing this thought to lead his way, Baig traveled to
Allahabad and filed a PIL in the matter. This is the first time he saw
the inside of a court of law—a place that was to become a second home
to him in the years to come. In 2001 Baig set up an NGO with a small
group of friends to look into matters of development and injustice
locally. He was fuelled solely by the passions of youth. It was not
until 2005 that he would find a real weapon to pursue his causes. The
introduction of the RTI Act was the biggest turning point in his
activism. "More than 80% of my work that was stuck went ahead because
of the RTI. Before that all we could do was protest. There was no way
to hold anyone accountable," he says. Baig has since filed over 3500
applications in various matters. In 2007 he asked for information to
expose the communal and caste bias in the appointments made in the
police force. On refusal, he took the matter to the State Information
Commission which penalized the SSP for Rs 25000 and asked the ASP to
pay Rs 6000 to Baig as compensation for harassment. Immediately after,
Baig was charged with two separate cases of criminal intimidation and
assault. He went into hiding and put together evidence proving he was
innocent.
The High Court quashed both FIR's, but the police reopened the
investigation and put him in jail for 19 days. The Jailor told him he
had orders to put him through severe mental and physical humiliation.
While in custody the SSP threatened him saying that as a Muslim he
ought to be even more careful. "He said he was Behenji ki naak ka baal
(very close to Mayawati) and that they would slap so many cases on me
I would not see the outside world again." True to their word, Baig
found out as soon as he was released on bail, that a new warrant had
been issued in his name—this time by the CMO, alleging his hobby of
studying Ayurvedic medicine was a covert unlicensed practice of
allopathic medicine. Baig had filed various RTI applications against
this CMO to reveal corruption and ill administration in the Medical
Council. All his wife's jewelry had by now been sold and the family
was practically penniless. Baig's young children had to be taken out
of school and he went into hiding again. In Delhi, he got in touch
with several Human Rights organizations who were familiar with his
work and due to their efforts along with support from the media, Baig
managed to slowly get back to normal life. But normal life for Baig is
RTI activism and he has now resumed that in full measure.
The cases against him continue to tax his life. He is currently
working on about 250 applications that will reveal how funds meant for
the welfare and development of Muslims in the state are being
mismanaged and misappropriated by various authorities including
certain Madarsas. He has received severe threats by concerned parties
in the case, but plans to continue undaunted. On the 18th of
September— on Minority Rights Day, he is organizing a rally in Lucknow
to protest against the state of minorities. Ask him if he is skeptical
about taking on a religiously sensitive matter or afraid for his
future, and Baig answers with a straight no, moving on swiftly to tell
us about the various issues he plans to pursue—imploring us to look
into them as well. "To work for humanitarian reasons is the will of
Allah," he signs off. And in this pursuit the RTI Act is no less than
a scripture to him. One that is being desecrated today like the Quran
that brought him to the path of activism ten years ago.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Struggle and the man
Akhilesh was crushed under a gypsy for ruffling the authorities' feathers.
Akhilesh Saxena, now 52, was 12 when he was about to audition for a
radio programme at Lucknow. It was his first audition, and he had
chosen a fiery nationalistic speech to recite. Waiting at the studio
for someone to call out his name, he thumbed through a copy of the
Hindi magazine, Dharmyug, that was just out. He read, for the fifth
time, a short story published in it - based around the independence
struggle, and written by his mother. He read, for the fifteenth time,
a line in that story: "Sangharsh Ke Path Pe Chalte Raho. Ye Desh
Tumhaara Hai (Don't give up this struggle. This country belongs to
you)." "I remember that line written by my mother," he says today. "I
don't remember the story clearly, nor the characters. But that line
sustains me." It sustained him when he was 21, and jailed for one and
half months near Simla for protesting against the emergency. It
sustained him when he was retrenched from his temporary job at
Doordarshan in 2001, because he was part of a movement for the free
and fair regularization of it's employees: "6500 people around the
country were employed permanently because they paid a fixed bribe of
one and a half lakh rupees. The rest, who protested against this, were
kicked out."
Saxena's mother was a journalist and author brought up on, and driven
by, what she called the "ideals of democracy". "She believed democracy
stood upon simple things," he says. "Never give a bribe, always
protest, always ask questions." He was done with not bribing and
protesting. When the RTI movement came about in UP around 2002, he
started asking questions. And the line from the short story continued
to sustain him. It sustained him in May, 2007, when a DCM Toyota
nearly ran him over near Gol Market, Lucknow, for an RTI he had filed
to find out whether 180 builders authorized by the Lucknow Development
Authority had followed fire safety norms in their construction
projects. And at the Lucknow University campus, later the same year in
December, when some goons poured petrol all over his scooter, because
of an RTI he had filed to find out whether the Deputy Registrar at the
university was complying with the rules of the All India Council Of
Technical Education (AICTE): "Luckily I arrived in time, and they fled
without setting it on fire."
Saxena was not so lucky in 2008, when he went all out to help Salim
Beg, another often-harassed RTI activist from Moradabad with his RTI
application: "He called a Lucknow RTI helpline that I volunteer for.
And I advised him on what to do, did his paperwork, and went with him
to every office and hearing." As a result of their efforts Saurav
Kushar, SP Moradabad, had to pay a fine of Rs 25,000 out of his salary
as penalty. As compensation for his harassment, Beg was paid Rs 10,000
by the UP Police. Saxena accompanied Beg when he went to pick up this
compensation as well – from the Lucknow Information Commission office
on August 11,2008. Then Saxena and Beg parted ways. Saxena remembers
seeing a white gypsy parked outside the office compound as he was
leaving. "A uniformed police officer sat next to the driver," he
remembers. "He nudged the driver when he saw me coming out." The
number plates of the gypsy were covered. Saxena mounted his scooter -
that has survived almost as many attacks as him - and drove off. He
forgot about the gypsy as he climbed the flyover near Lucknow
University. He felt happy about Beg. Rs 10,000 could go some distance,
if stretched. Saxena's own income - from private tuitions and some
freelance journalism - was Rs 4000 per month. Perhaps, if he was
re-instated in his Doordarshan job - the 2001 case is yet to be
decided - he could earn more. Then he and his wife and 10 year old son
could move out of that one and a half room flat they were renting.A
jolt shook Saxena out of his reverie. He remembers flying into the
sky, and seeing the concrete on the road - all in less than a second -
before blacking out. When he came to, a crowd was carrying him to the
hospital. "They said a white gypsy with covered number plates had hit
me from behind and driven off," he says. "But I had no enmity with the
police." Then I remembered two names - Beg, and Kushar." Then he
blacked out again. Saxena suffered three broken ribs, a wrist
fracture, and a near fatal injury to his head. His associates at the
Youth Initiative - an association of over 3000 professionals who file
RTIs and encourage youth in rural areas to do so - called Kushar. "He
said it was very sad that this had happened. He had no idea why. But
he would be careful that it doesn't recur," says Saxena. "Maybe, he
felt the score was settled." Was it? Saxena still hears a humming in
his head because of the head injury. He still earns Rs 4000 per month,
because his 2001 retrenchment case is pending. So he still lives in a
one and a half room flat with his family. His wife asked him to ease
off RTI applications after this incident, but he hasn't. He has most
recently received threat calls because of an RTI he had filed in
January 2009 asking how many sugar factories along the Gomti river
have installed the effluent treatment plants that they are required to
install by law. Those threatening Saxena also want him to ease off RTI
applications. But they lack information. They don't know about that
line his mother wrote 40 years ago.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Why the whistle may not blow
New legislation to address some RTI Act lacunae is full of dodgy clauses
The Public Interest Disclosure and Protection To Persons Making The
Disclosure Bill, 2010 will be tabled in the next session of
Parliament. The Bill has been dogged by delays. Had it been passed
already, it could have saved the life of Murugan- a civil supplies
department official in Tuticorin, Tamil Nadu. He exposed a scam about
pulses being smuggled out of godowns to be replaced bu chep rice. He
dies of poisoning on the 7th of Septmeber. His wife, who went on
dharna for 12 days to demand justice, was jailed. Now that it is
finally in public domain on its way to realization, experts find that
it still does not spell good news for RTI Activists. Some of its key
problems are listed below.
• Technically the Bill covers whistleblowers outside the government
but its thrust is towards the protection of those within it.
• The definition of what qualifies as 'disclosure' (in s. 2(d)) is
problematic. It requires the complainant to demonstrate loss to the
government or gain to the public servant as a result of the act in
question. This might not cover acts of pure injustice to people.
• It excludes the armed forces and police entirely. Given that they
are most susceptible to corruption, this makes little sense.
• It requires that the complaint be made within 5 years of the
occurrence of an act. Again, an unnecessary restriction.
• S. 7(1), which lists what is excluded from the scope of disclosures,
is extremely limiting. Particularly because it stipulates that the
HOD/Secretary of the department complained against can certify any
matter as excluded.
• The recommendations that the CVC makes after investigating a
complaint are not binding in any way. Whistleblowers will be reluctant
to risk their lives in making disclosures that are not likely to yield
results.
• S. 16 provides monetary penalty and a maximum imprisonment of 2
years for a whistleblower if his disclosure is found to be mala fide.
This can be misused against complainants and will discourage them.
• The Bill does not do enough to protect the identity of whistleblowers.
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 7, Issue 40, Dated October 09, 2010
--
Urvashi Sharma
RTI Helpmail( Web Based )
aishwaryaj2010@gmail.com
Mobile Rti Helpline
8081898081 ( 8 A.M. to 10 P.M. )
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