Yamini Aiyar the think tank head indulges in wonkery, but is really just intrigued by the everyday life of the Sarkar. @AiyarYamini
Credit: DH Illustration
I write this column as I come to a professional crossroads. After over 15 years as a public policy wonk, a “think-tanker”, I am taking a brief sabbatical. A time of transition is always a useful moment for reflection. A time to “think” without fear of “tanking” (pardon the pun!).
In this moment, I find myself confronting existential questions -- What does it mean to work on “policy” in a deeply polarised polity? What does it mean to pursue the goal of “evidence”-based policy-making when the space for contestation and debate over ideas is shrinking and when political tolerance for critical engagement has given way to weaponising dissent? It is no secret that academics, civil society activists and NGOs are struggling for survival, many fighting to preserve their basic freedoms. In this new world, what does it mean to be “policy relevant”, a term that us policy wonks use often, in describing our research and professional purpose?
I chose to work in the arena of public policy driven largely by a personal commitment (the naivety of youth!) to the goal of social justice and a desire to be part of the process of radical social transformation that as a young adult in the late 1990s, I was witness to. In the heady days of economic growth and the unleashing of private enterprise of those years, “getting the State out of the way” was the leitmotif. And perhaps inevitably, therefore, I sought to pursue these goals outside the State in the non-profit, formal civil society space -- a vibrant site of genuine innovation in India.
Over the decades, I witnessed and participated in the significant changes that have taken place within this professional space. NGOs have become more professionalised as global philanthropy expanded, a new breed of professionals have emerged schooled in public policy graduate programmes that are now proliferating across India, niche consulting firms that focus on development policy are jostling for space with the global ‘Big Four’ to work with governments in the making and shaping of policy, and my own chosen field of “policy research” found a new avatar in the emergence of the category “think tank” that is now a popularised term.
New phrases like “evidence-based policy-making” and “social impact sector” entered the lexicon as did the “public policy professional”. The primary yardstick of success has been defined as “impacting” governmental decision-making by bringing our craft -- “evidence” -- to the table. This is the metric on which success is determined and the purpose for which research and policy engagement is financed by well-intentioned philanthropists. Consequently, a new organisational form, a “do-tank” that works with government to “do” rather than merely “pontificate” on policy has entered the fray. The profession (if I can call it that) itself has now aligned its core purpose, its raison de etre to this goal -- “influencing” policy. And it is through this influence that it obtains relevance.
There is no argument that in a complex policy environment, technical expertise, external to government, is essential. Evidence of what works is central to this enterprise. It ensures that there is a rigour to policy choices, it shapes ideas, it challenges orthodoxies and fuels innovation. In so doing, it enriches the policy processes. Policy choices that impact our everyday lives are far too crucial to be limited to the exclusive domain of the government. Beyond mere instrumental value, the very process of “engagement” and the dialogue it generates is core to the democratic project.
But in a polarised polity, where the freedom to critique is shrinking, it is worth asking if this pursuit of relevance via engagement and influence blunts another critical role that evidence, research and policy engagement ought to play -- that of holding the State accountable -- by asking the difficult questions and encouraging active public contestation of ideas. Can research be truly independent if its purpose is to be “relevant” to policy-makers? Does it ensure that the right questions are asked? That evidence is used to foster dialogue and debate in the public sphere?
No government, regardless of its political proclivities, is comfortable with evidence. Evidence challenges established narratives and makes failures visible. But most chose benign neglect. This creates an ecosystem of independent research. Consider the MGNREGS. From its launch in 2006 onward, the scheme was carefully studied by researchers of all hues to create a vibrant evidence base on what works, what doesn’t, and why. Government accepted what it liked and ignored what it didn’t, and the public debated key ideas, drawing on them to make accountability claims. Today, benign neglect has given way to active silencing. You will be hard-pressed to find wide-ranging “evidence” that reveals the good, bad and the ugly on government programmes. And if it exists, it is rarely available in the public domain. This is the fate of critical sources of government data as much as it is of independent research.
It is worth asking why? The answer lies in how the profession has defined its purpose. Ideally in a democracy, there ought to be space for evidence-based partnerships with government whilst simultaneously holding the mirror. But when the space for holding the mirror shrinks, when freedoms are trampled upon, what should the public policy professional do? There is a real risk that the pressures of relevance can, and indeed do, push researchers to blunt critique, to inadvertently, perhaps, stop asking difficult questions and refrain from critical public engagement. Is there a need then to redefine our role, to question the narrow prism of relevance and impact that we judge ourselves by?
In challenging times, we must ask ourselves difficult questions. Else, we will be doing a disservice to the word “public” that we have ascribed to ourselves. I write this piece as a provocation toward this goal.