The one-year performance of the new Andhra Pradesh administration – led by the YSR Congress Party (YSRCP) under Chief Minister, YS Jagan Mohan Reddy – allows us a glimpse into the state of affairs. Characterised by quasi-authoritarian measures, repression of dissidents, and subversion of democratic institutions, the state’s condition is a cause of concern. When determining whether a government is crossing red-lines, we must start by asking ourselves if there is a crackdown on legitimate dissent and if the government is actively suppressing existing democratic checks and balances. Insofar as the answer to these questions is yes, we have a big reason to worry about people’s rights in Andhra Pradesh. So, it is worth examining the two themes individually to understand the gravity of the continuing situation.
Clampdown on vulnerable targets and dissidents
On 7 May 2020 in Visakhapatnam, tragedy struck as styrene vapours leaked from a chemical plant killed twelve people, and affected several others in the vicinity. Instead of addressing questions, the government found an easy target in 66-year-old Ranganayaki Poonthota who, on a Facebook post, blamed the state for allowing the plant to be open during a lockdown. On charges of “making statements conducing to public mischief” and “criminal conspiracy”, she was told about having to face “three years imprisonment and up to Rupees 5 lakhs (around $7000) in fine.”
In another instance, the state government targeted Dr Sudhakar Rao – an anaesthetist belonging to the Dalit community, who urged the administration to provide hospitals with more equipment during the coronavirus pandemic. On 16 May, a clip was circulated where Dr Rao was lying on the road with his hands tied and being beaten by a policeman. Soon, he was admitted into a psychiatric ward despite the fact that most people that knew him denied suggestions of any mental illness. We learn a lot about an administration when it thrives on building up fear and trepidation to deter questions – a characteristic that is troubling in a democracy.
Even more alarming, is the story of Amaravati. When Andhra was bifurcated in 2014 and needed a new capital, the previous government moved to form it in a region called “Amaravati” – with local farmers agreeing to sign off large chunks of their properties to the government so it would raise the value of their agricultural plots, as the place urbanised. However, a change of administration in 2019 (as YSRCP swept the elections) led to the announcement of three capitals – where Kurnool becomes the judicial capital, Visakhapatnam becomes the administrative capital, and Amaravati only the legislative capital. This plan meant that the anticipated investment was only likely to rise in an already urban Visakhapatnam, whilst the “legislative capital” of Amaravati would merely get a state assembly, without added incentives for businesses to invest. This left farmers who gave up their lands highly uncertain about their future. Consequently, large scale protests erupted: thousands of anguished farmers, families, and workers went onto the streets since Jagan refused to pursue his predecessor’s plans or promises. Some brought pesticide cans, threatening suicide if the government continued to shun them. The state responded with sheer force, either threatening or assaulting people that were on the streets – some reports cite nail-embedded police batons being used to hurt individuals that dissented. Additionally, many opposition leaders were arrested when also partaking in and expressing solidarity with the Amaravati farmers. A counterfactual involving dialogue, that gave distressed farmers a way out, would certainly have gone a long way in establishing peace and trust; even now, this is a means that ought to be employed (over violence) since it is not only in the spirit of democratic engagement but also because it helps establish faith in the dispensation amongst those presently living with insecurity.
Subverting democratic checks and balances
The first institution to be impacted was the media. Soon after taking charge, there were credible accusations of the government pushing cable operators to suspend two major news channels: Andhrajyothi and TV5. The Chief Minister often did call them Yellow Media ( which is incidentally the colour of the main opposition party). Simultaneously, his own media organisation, Sakshi News, continues to eulogise him. In October, an instruction was passed, allowing government bodies to initiate any legal proceedings against media outlets that published “baseless and defamatory” news because it “brings down the morale of the government.”
More chilling, however, were the sudden attacks on journalists from news organisations that looked unfavourably upon the YSRCP. Two days before the instruction, a journalist working for Andhrajyothi was hacked to death raising suspicions on politicians from the ruling party. In another such incident, another YSR Congress leader was suspected to be responsible for the deadly attack on a reporter working with Visalandhra, who was rushed to a hospital in a critical condition in Srikakulam. These are not one-off instances, as citizen journalists, members of NGOs, and even those working in larger local media houses were all reported to be victims of attacks linked to the ruling party in Andhra Pradesh.
Even civil servants have been facing unprecedented pressure. AB Venkateswara Rao, a senior police officer, was suspended on charges of “leaked critical police and intelligence information” – a claim rejected by the High Court weeks later. These sorts of allegations extended to several officers, including LV Subrahmanyam and Jasti Venkata Kishore. When the coronavirus pandemic hit Andhra Pradesh in April, the State Election Commissioner (SEC) decided to have local (panchayat) elections postponed. The YSRCP evidently disliked this, as evidenced by Jagan’s peculiar allegations of the SEC exhibiting pro-opposition bias due to “caste-loyalty” with the leader of the opposition. Such remarks are often unnecessary since it does not seem fair to baselessly allege differential treatment based on arbitrary, birth-based factors like caste. But more importantly, this was followed by an unprecedented downsizing – chopping the SEC’s term from five years to three, just so he could not take independent measures any longer.
Here, it is crucial to credit the courts that overturned the actions of the administration 65 times in its 52 weeks of ruling. Yet, it is concerning that courts are forced into managing democracy instead of the executive since valuable time is necessarily taken away from an already overburdened Indian judicial system. But even the independent judiciary faces accusations by members of the ruling party who claim that it is “managed” by the opposition. Based on the rate at which the court undermines Jagan’s moves for being undemocratic, questioning its independence is just the first step. It is not far-fetched to speculate even more sinister attempts in future to deny, if not actively disparage, the value of the justice system.
The overall situation raises some genuine questions on the functioning of the ruling dispensation in Andhra Pradesh. Given the north India-centric discourse within the national media, the stories in Andhra Pradesh (a southern state) can often be left behind. But even when they are covered, instances of subjugation are merely narrated in isolation; they are seldom understood as a state exhibiting a pattern of disregard for democratic ideals. The new Andhra government has been condemning people into silence – it is time for us to speak up before the widespread apathy allows the state to subjugate criticism for another four years.
Rohan Goda is a high school student who leads a youth-driven policy thinktank, Technology Policy Initiative (TPI) within the Middle East. He has written extensively on matters of society and governance for regional Indian media houses and has debated in the UAE national team. His primary interests include moral philosophy, public policy, and politics.