The Article was published in the The Hindu on 25th May 2012 and was written by Ramchandra Guha. I more or less endorse views of Mr. Guha on IPL here
The IPL is
bad for capitalism, democracy and cricket
I
live in Bangalore, down the road from the Karnataka State Cricket Association
(KSCA). I am a member of the KSCA, which means that I can watch all the matches
played in its stadium for free, and from a comfortable seat next to the
pavilion. I exercise the privilege always during a Test match, often during a
one-day international, and sometimes during a Ranji Trophy match. However, I
have not yet watched an Indian Premier League (IPL) game played at the KSCA,
nor do I intend to in the future.
My
original reasons for boycotting the Indian Premier League were aesthetic. 20-20
lacks the subtlety of the longer form; no one can build an innings, no one
bowls a probing spell. I didn't much care either for the way the game was
packaged, while the man who owned the local Bangalore team was — as seen by
someone whose day job is studying the legacy of Ambedkar, Gandhiji, Nehru —
somewhat on the loud side.
The
sting operation involving some (fringe) IPL players and the fight between Shah
Rukh Khan and the Mumbai Cricket Association both seem to confirm these
aesthetic reservations. But in fact the problem with the IPL goes far beyond
petty corruption and boorish celebrities. The Indian Premier League is not just
bad for me, but bad for Indian capitalism, bad for Indian democracy, and bad
for Indian cricket.
WITH LIBERALISATION …
Let
me defend these claims. When the Indian economy was liberalised, in 1991, it
unleashed the long-suppressed energies of the entrepreneurial class. Sectors
such as software and pharmaceuticals, that depended chiefly on innovation and
knowledge, prospered. This was capitalism at its most creative; generating
incomes and jobs, satisfying consumer tastes, and also spawning a new wave of
philanthropy.
More
recently, however, some less appealing sides of capitalism have manifested
themselves. The state retains control of three key resources — land, minerals,
and the airwaves. These resources have become enormously valuable with the
expansion of the economy, prompting sweetheart deals between individual
politicians and individual entrepreneurs, whereby land, minerals, or spectrum
are transferred at much less than market cost, and for a (quite large)
consideration. Creative capitalism has increasingly given way to crony
capitalism, with dire consequences for society, for the environment, and for
public institutions. Hence the 2G scandal, the spike in the Maoist insurgency
due to the dispossession of tribals by mining companies, the killings of
whistle-blowers by the land mafia, etc.
The
Indian Premier League is decidedly on the crony rather than creative side of the
ledger. The original auction for teams was shrouded in secrecy — the
allocations were not made on the basis of bids transparently offered and
assessed. Player prices do not accurately reflect cricketing worth either. Thus
foreign players are paid a fraction of what Indian players of comparable
quality are paid. The most egregious form of cronyism, however, is the
ownership of an IPL team by the current president (and former secretary) of the
Board of Control for Cricket in India. It is as if Alex Ferguson was
simultaneously manager of Manchester United and the president of the English
Football Association. Tragically, the cronyism runs down the line. The current
chairman of selectors is the brand ambassador of the team owned and run by the
Board president. The famous former cricketers who cover Indian cricket on
television have been consultants to the IPL. Other commentators have accepted
assignments from IPL teams. To put it bluntly, their silence on this (and some
other matters) has been bought.
The
IPL has given capitalism and entrepreneurship a bad game. But it has also been
bad for Indian democracy, in that it has vividly and even brazenly underlined
the distance between the affluent, urban middle classes and the rest of India.
Consider the fact that no city in India's largest State, Uttar Pradesh, which
has an excellent Ranji Trophy team, was awarded a franchise. Nor any city in
Bihar, Orissa, or Madhya Pradesh either. To leave out four of India's largest
States — all cricket-mad, and which collectively account for close to half the
country's population — must seriously disqualify the League's claim to be
‘Indian.'
NAMES AND BIAS
Yet
it can still be called ‘Premier,' for it speaks for the more prosperous parts
of India, and for the more prosperous sections within them. The very names of
the teams are a clue to its elitist character — two ‘Kings,' two ‘Royals,' and
one ‘Knight,' this in a democratic Republic whose Constitution and laws
(rightly) did away with aristocratic titles of any kind.
The
IPL is explicitly biased against the poorer States of the Union, and implicitly
biased towards what, in marketing argot, is referred to as
‘S(ocio)E(conomic)C(lass)-1.' Maharashtra has two IPL teams, based in its
largest and richest cities, yet it is the upper strata of Pune and Mumbai
society that most closely follow these teams. Some watch the matches at home,
over a drink and after a hard day at the office; others go to the stadium,
seeking vicariously to soak in the glamour of those even richer than
themselves. That is to say, they go not so much to see Virat Kohli or Sachin
Tendulkar bat, but to be in the same privileged space as the Nita Ambanis and
the Shah Rukh Khans, this fleeting proximity reassurance that they too are
within that part of India which is Shining as well as Winning.
BALANCE OF POWER
The
middle classes of the major metros are large and prosperous enough to sustain
the IPL. But the rest of India, that is to say, the majority of India, does not
appear to connect with the tournament. When there is a match on at the KSCA,
there are crowds in the ground and in pubs in central Bangalore, but no
interest in the poorer parts of the city or in villages 10 or 20 miles away.
On
the other hand, when the national team plays, as India, the peasant and the
slum dweller can follow its fortunes as keenly as the hedge fund manager and
software engineer. The IPL is exclusive; the Indian team inclusive. Notably,
they do not live in separate worlds; rather, they are connected, with the
former having a decided impact on the latter. Had the Indian cricket team taken
six weeks off after the 2011 World Cup, they may not have lost four-nil to
England in that summer's Test series. Two of India's leading batsmen and its
leading bowler were carrying injuries sustained by playing in the IPL, which
was held immediately after the World Cup. The weariness and the exhaustion
carried over into the Australian series, likewise lost four-zero, and into
successive one-day tournaments, where the World Cup champions were humiliated
by such sides as Bangladesh. The ordinary cricket lover now knew what our
‘professional' cricket commentators were too nervous or too polite to say —
that too much cricket, and too much of the wrong kind of cricket, was a major
reason behind the disgraceful performance of the Indian team in the latter half
of 2011.
English
and Australian cricket administrators may have other (and less salutary)
reasons to dislike the IPL — namely, that it has shifted the balance of power
in world cricket away from the white countries to India. However, some former
colonial countries should be less than pleased with the tournament as well.
Thus, the international game would benefit hugely if the West Indies were to
somehow rediscover the art of winning Test and one-day matches. Recently, the
West Indies have fought hard in series against Australia and England; their
pluck might have been rewarded with victory had they the services of their best
bowler, Sunil Narine; their best batsman, Chris Gayle; and their best all-rounder,
Dwayne Bravo — all, alas, choosing to play in the IPL instead of for their
national side.
There
is a larger, cosmopolitan, reason to dislike the IPL; and also a local,
patriotic, one. The baleful effects of the tournament should worry Indian
liberals who admire that form of capitalism which rewards those with the best
ideas rather than those with the best contacts; Indian democrats who wish to
nurture a more caring and just society; and Indian cricket fans who want their
team to perform honourably at home and abroad.
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