Review: Through the Broken Glass by TN Seshan

This autobiography doesn’t adore its author. From the outset, Seshan isn’t unaware of his caste, class, government service privileges, or his abrasive-appearing demeanour. He knows he makes foes effortlessly. But to him, it happens only since he’s rule bound. Yet, it is this trait that brings him to Indira and later Rajiv Gandhi’s attentions, with whom he gets to do some of his best work. Like celebrities, he’s always hitting headlines, willy-nilly.

Hailing from a Palghat Iyer family, we get a straightforward sense of the world views that make Seshan take to academics, astrology, faith and government employment. He’s a serious man. Prior to government service, he is a decorated student and teacher. His elder brother too qualifies for the civil services; his father has a good turn as a lawyer in Palghat. The later Seshan admits to being close to Rajiv Gandhi, once being friends with Subramanian Swamy, once having no choice but to seek Dhirubhai Ambani’s help for a last-minute flight ticket (that Seshan pays for) to pay his last respects to the Kanchipuram pontiff. Seshan acknowledges the ethical complexities of some of his personal actions and equations. But from early on two qualities animate him: one, worshipping the rule book; two, having no fear, due to his faith in his god and the Constitution.

As a bureaucrat, what was the one thread he pursued through his career? That the Executive has powers too, and is not a rubber stamp of the Legislature; it was particularly so of the Election Commission. They have rules and their powers of interpreting and acting on them matters too. Making this perception shift happen at many levels became his career-long purpose. Starting as a collector in Madurai, he rattled the Congress government in Tamil Nadu over the Executive-Legislature equation. In the mid 1960s, Kashmiri leader Sheikh Abdullah was kept under house arrest in Kodaikanal. Abdullah, used to having his way, wants to send a letter without it being read. Seshan pushes back saying it is against the rules. During his civil service training, a younger, leaner Seshan learns to ride a horse, as it helps build self-confidence. He writes, “One thing the horse never tolerates is timidity, and timidity is a quality that can make life miserable for a civil servant.”

He is transferred from Madurai to the state transport department in Madras. Here, he administers by becoming a practitioner; he becomes a licensed bus driver, finds out how buses work, and once, as an inspector, does bus conductor duty. He works ground-up. Immersing into nearly each assignment he gets, he thinks: What must this sphere entail from each angle of upholding law and order? What is the current situation? What are its most vexing hurdles? How are we to plan and implement policies giving policy enforcers teeth to stick to them? How do you educate the public on them? Working for many major departments and ministries primes him for his long role at the Election Commission (EC). By now, Seshan is a perspicacious student of the architecture of governance and how it gets misused.

How should the EC and the Chief Election Commissioner retain their Constitution-granted independence? Answering this question and the many differences it triggered with the Centre and other regional political parties consumes much of the second half of the book. Narasimha Rao, Sharad Pawar, VP Singh, Lalu Prasad Yadav and others all cross swords with the EC. Through this time, the EC gradually introduces elements like the voter ID and the electronic voting machine. It raises the limit on candidate expenditure during polls. To counter what appears to be a bullying CEC, the Centre makes changes, adding two more commissioners at the level of the CEC. Seshan challenges that in court, even while working with those colleagues. All of them attempt to stay sane and work together. The most dramatic page in the book is an argument between two of the three in the EC’s office.

Every action he took, says Seshan, was keeping the spirit and letter of the law in mind, and not out of mala fide intent nor his ego. He wanted the EC “to change the character of the Indian voter”, making citizens hyper vigilant. To him, it was “criminal to underutilize one’s powers that could advance a noble purpose.” In his tenure, there were remonstrations that Seshan may have damaged institutions, but those charges haven’t stuck since he retired. Perhaps the factual and larger truths of the man and his achievements can only come from those he worked closely with, and who may have bitterly differed with him. What will they have to say now?

Rahul Jayaram is an independent teacher and writer in Bangalore.

Published posthumously, this autobiography by TN Seshan traces the life of one of India’s gutsiest bureaucrats who, through his reading of laws, brought Indian politicians to their knees. By chronicling his career from the 1950s to the 1990s, this book flings open windows into corridors of power that don’t make for pretty viewing as our politicians appear instinctively unethical. Seshan’s efforts, well-meaning but invariably controversial, gleam through much political muck.

This autobiography doesn’t adore its author. From the outset, Seshan isn’t unaware of his caste, class, government service privileges, or his abrasive-appearing demeanour. He knows he makes foes effortlessly. But to him, it happens only since he’s rule bound. Yet, it is this trait that brings him to Indira and later Rajiv Gandhi’s attentions, with whom he gets to do some of his best work. Like celebrities, he’s always hitting headlines, willy-nilly.

Hailing from a Palghat Iyer family, we get a straightforward sense of the world views that make Seshan take to academics, astrology, faith and government employment. He’s a serious man. Prior to government service, he is a decorated student and teacher. His elder brother too qualifies for the civil services; his father has a good turn as a lawyer in Palghat. The later Seshan admits to being close to Rajiv Gandhi, once being friends with Subramanian Swamy, once having no choice but to seek Dhirubhai Ambani’s help for a last-minute flight ticket (that Seshan pays for) to pay his last respects to the Kanchipuram pontiff. Seshan acknowledges the ethical complexities of some of his personal actions and equations. But from early on two qualities animate him: one, worshipping the rule book; two, having no fear, due to his faith in his god and the Constitution.

As a bureaucrat, what was the one thread he pursued through his career? That the Executive has powers too, and is not a rubber stamp of the Legislature; it was particularly so of the Election Commission. They have rules and their powers of interpreting and acting on them matters too. Making this perception shift happen at many levels became his career-long purpose. Starting as a collector in Madurai, he rattled the Congress government in Tamil Nadu over the Executive-Legislature equation. In the mid 1960s, Kashmiri leader Sheikh Abdullah was kept under house arrest in Kodaikanal. Abdullah, used to having his way, wants to send a letter without it being read. Seshan pushes back saying it is against the rules. During his civil service training, a younger, leaner Seshan learns to ride a horse, as it helps build self-confidence. He writes, “One thing the horse never tolerates is timidity, and timidity is a quality that can make life miserable for a civil servant.”

He is transferred from Madurai to the state transport department in Madras. Here, he administers by becoming a practitioner; he becomes a licensed bus driver, finds out how buses work, and once, as an inspector, does bus conductor duty. He works ground-up. Immersing into nearly each assignment he gets, he thinks: What must this sphere entail from each angle of upholding law and order? What is the current situation? What are its most vexing hurdles? How are we to plan and implement policies giving policy enforcers teeth to stick to them? How do you educate the public on them? Working for many major departments and ministries primes him for his long role at the Election Commission (EC). By now, Seshan is a perspicacious student of the architecture of governance and how it gets misused.

How should the EC and the Chief Election Commissioner retain their Constitution-granted independence? Answering this question and the many differences it triggered with the Centre and other regional political parties consumes much of the second half of the book. Narasimha Rao, Sharad Pawar, VP Singh, Lalu Prasad Yadav and others all cross swords with the EC. Through this time, the EC gradually introduces elements like the voter ID and the electronic voting machine. It raises the limit on candidate expenditure during polls. To counter what appears to be a bullying CEC, the Centre makes changes, adding two more commissioners at the level of the CEC. Seshan challenges that in court, even while working with those colleagues. All of them attempt to stay sane and work together. The most dramatic page in the book is an argument between two of the three in the EC’s office.

Every action he took, says Seshan, was keeping the spirit and letter of the law in mind, and not out of mala fide intent nor his ego. He wanted the EC “to change the character of the Indian voter”, making citizens hyper vigilant. To him, it was “criminal to underutilize one’s powers that could advance a noble purpose.” In his tenure, there were remonstrations that Seshan may have damaged institutions, but those charges haven’t stuck since he retired. Perhaps the factual and larger truths of the man and his achievements can only come from those he worked closely with, and who may have bitterly differed with him. What will they have to say now?

Rahul Jayaram is an independent teacher and writer in Bangalore.