More is Less

"You can have one in any color, as long as it's black". Thus spoke Henry Ford, regarded as the father of the modern automobile industry, about his legendary Model T, the first car for the "masses", which sold over 20 million units before it was finally taken out of production. While one can attribute the comment to Ford's well known idiosyncracies (after all, this was the person who was also quoted to have said "History is bunk"), it in a sense reflected the relationship between producer and consumer that existed at the time. The car manufacturer, in a market of only a few players, was all powerful, and could therefore dictate what the consumer could or could not have in the car. The aspiring driver was constrained to what was provided, and if that meant everyone drove around in cars that were little different from funeral hearses, then so be it!

Nearly a century on, the tables have clearly been turned. Someone wishing to buy a car today has a choice of over two dozen established manufacturers, each with perhaps a dozen different models, dozens of features ranging from cupholders to entertainment systems, and every possible color that one could invent in a laboratory. And, as the visitors to the recent Delhi auto show found out, car manufacturers are falling over themselves to capture the hearts (and wallets) of the second biggest market in the world. Just as mobile phones conquered the Indian landscape, and put an end to the much maligned land-line, automakers the world over are licking their chops in anticipation of gaining even 1% of market share in the land of a billion consumers. The ancient Ambassador, once the staple of government departments and taxi fleets, is soon going to end up as a museum piece, a relic from a bygone age when Indians had to be content with whatever junk was sold to them in the guise of personal transportation.

The fact that Delhi has an auto show to begin with is remarkable - it shows that the Indian car market has finally come of age, and is a place where the much anticipated unveiling of new ideas can happen. And these are not just cheaper versions of models available in the West - gone are the days when Indians are going to accept a stripped down version of a BMW or Lexus. They want the best, and VW or Ford or Hyundai had better be willing to give them first pick on a car that is the envy of the rest of the world - or at the very least, their neighbor who bought a new set of wheels just six months ago.

The media, of course, is crowing about how all this "choice" for the consumer is great. But is it really more choice - or less? The fact that one can now walk down the street, browse through half a dozen showrooms and walk out an hour later with a shiny new automobile sounds like a consumer's dream - but in fact it represents a significant reduction in the choices that one might make for transportation. Why? Because once you possess our own private mode of transport, your incentive to use any other option is significantly diminished. Delhi today has an outstanding metro system created from scratch, which would be the envy of any major metropolis - and yet its ridership is a mere 2 million, a significant under use for a city with a population in excess of 15 million. In cities like London and New York, affluent white collar workers use the subway or go by bus - but in India, and especially Delhi, the sight of a mid-level manager sahib being chauffeured to work by a driver is the dominant social statement, a sign of having "arrived".

I still recall learning to drive in the relatively quiet roads of Chanakyapuri, long before the invasion of foreign manufacturers caused the boom in car ownership. Driving in most of New Delhi, and even parts of Delhi outside the ring road, was a lot of fun in the early '90s, and took relatively little time to get from point A to B - this in a dinky little Maruti 800 without a/c or radio, let alone a DVD home theater system! Now contrast that to the scene  today on Mehrauli Road, or Ring Road, or just about any major road in the city, where cars are virtually in gridlock for hours - fine driving machines that boast to speeds of 200 km/h, have the ability to accelerate to 100 in 6 seconds, rendered impotent for the simple reason that there many more of them than the road can accommodate. And this is after building countless flyovers to ensure a smooth flow of traffic around the city, without the unwanted interruptions caused by traffic signals. The chaos on the roads cannot simply be attributed to another governmental failure, although God knows that better quality roads would certainly help. No - the fact that the consumer has been seduced into buying a product, without pausing to think of the possible negative impacts that might result from the purchase, is a prime reason for the state of affairs.

In the midst of all this, the auto companies are the ones coming out on top, and you can't blame them. After all, the job of a car company is plain and simple - make and sell cars, hopefully for a profit. One cannot expect them to suddenly don the garb of social responsibility and advise their potential customer that "Buying this car can seriously increase the amount of stress in your life, not to mention the toxic fumes that you might have to inhale every day on your way to and from work". It took the work of a lone crusader, Ralph Nader, to drive the global car industry to adopting standard safety equipment like seat belts and air bags - they did not come up with those on their own. So it seems quite unlikely that they would go out of their way to find solutions to the dilemma of millions of frustrated motorists. Every auto executive at the show has been very clear as to how "India is the place to be" and "forms a key part of the company strategy". Not a single one has made even a passing comment about how the long term is being impacted by an increasing population of cars. Presumably they did not drive themselves to the auto show, or flew in by helicopter to avoid the long queues leading to the venue!

Even the most diehard of environmentalists will admit that it is a losing battle to suggest that people simply stop buying cars - after all, India is a developing nation, and we have the right to aspire to the same quality of life as our Western brethren, and if that means having one (or two or three) cars, then why not? This is where the second revelation from the auto show is cause for concern - the shift in consumer preference to larger cars, in particular what is being branded as a "small SUV". While the notion of a vehicle that looks like an SUV but has the fuel economy of a car would be hailed as a revolution in the West, it is positively scary news for a market where small cars have ruled for so long.

When one looks the development of automobile transportation in the West, there are two distinct models that emerge - the US (big, gas guzzling cars) and Europe (small, fuel efficient ones). These two paths were the natural fit for both environments, based on the amount of road space for driving around, and the inherent choice that the citizens in both places had made as far as the importance they would give to the car. For a while, it appeared as though India (and China) were firmly going to follow the European model, with fuel efficiency standards well ahead of those in the US. But now, with the "small SUV" concept set to potentially take grip on the streets of Delhi, Mumbai and eventually (in the dreams of the auto execs) Ludhiana, Jaisalmer, Madurai and Shillong, the needle is moving in the opposite direction.

That this is purely a sales job should not really be a surprise - humans are not conditioned to come into this world to want a certain type of car (or to even want a car, for that matter!). It is a manufactured want, that gets portrayed as a need, by an industry that dominates so many communities around the world (and, ironically, can destroy them as well, as in the case of Detroit). Using words like "powerful", "strong", and "mighty" to describe their product, they imply to the potential customer that these attributes would automatically transfer to them upon ownership. In contrast, words like "small", "compact" and "efficient" translate into weakness, a definite death sentence for an emerging market that wants to imitate its more successful brethren abroad. Perhaps the tale that Indian consumers need to remember is that of Vamana avatar, the dimunitive form of Lord Vishnu, who was able to humble even the mightiest king misled into contempt on seeing his small size. The phrase "small is beautiful" exists for a reason, and new generations of Indian drivers need to discover it for themselves, inspite of the constant pitching to the contrary from the Fords and Hyundais of the world.

Top Fear

Just when we thought that the gaping wounds left in the Indian psyche by the trio of Jimmy Anderson, Stuart Broad and Ian Bell had finally begun to heal (or at least stopped bleeding profusely), along comes another English threesome to cause further anguish at the expense of the hapless Indians. Or so the Indian High Commission would have us believe, based on their strongly worded protest to the BBC, the producers of the hit show "Top Gear", that aired a Christmas special focusing on the exploits of Jeremy Clarkson and his two sidekicks on what, by any standards, could only be described as a fairly harrowing 1000+ mile journey across India (I say that because most middle class Indians would probably not venture to undertake such an ordeal!) Before you read any further, I would highly recommend that you actually watch the episode as the rest of this blog makes a lot more sense (go to bbc.co.uk/topgear)

The reason for the protest is a familiar one, a cry of injustice that has been around ever since it became fashionable for the developing world to use "cultural insensitivity" as grounds to curtail, amongst other things, free speech, which at the end of the day is what this debate boils down to. The Indian high commission, acting apparently on the complaints of hundreds of Indian diaspora people in the UK, claims that the producers of the show misrepresented the reason they were going to India, and have made unfavorable remarks about many issues that are offensive to Indians, especially some rather crude potty humour (they refer to it as "scatalogical", another common behavior that is used when one wants to be seen as taking the moral high ground). British MPs of Indian origin have condemned this, and even David Cameron, who has a cameo appearance at the start of the show, has tried to distance himself from it. There has even been talk that this single broadcast has undone years of patient diplomacy (a la Humphrey Appleby) in trying to build UK-India business ties.

But what is the real truth behind all this fuss? Let's look at the description of the show as given by Top Gear to the Indian high commission when seeking a permit for filming and visas. This is the official text

Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond and James May will travel across India in three cars filming a light hearted road trip focusing on the journey and the inevitable idiosyncrasies of the cars they will drive, as well as the country and scenery we see along the way.

There will be spontaneous interaction between the presenters and their environment, and potentially people they meet along the way. This will be in an incidental manner, not interviews.

Key ingredients of what we film will be beautiful scenery, busy city scenes, local charm and colour within these locations, areas to illustrate the local car culture that exists in India.

Even if the Indian High Commission was unaware of the prior controversies surrounding Jeremy Clarkson, which is somewhat difficult to imagine given that he is never far from the headlines, most recently for joking that the parents of last summer's rioters should be lined up and shot, they should at least have taken the trouble to think through what the outcome of such a "road trip" might be. The internet is replete with videos of India's crazy streets, cows roaming with wild abandon, crowds of Indians standing and gawking at just about any spectacle without bothering to take any action, the scary one of a couple nearly run down by the Bhopal Shatabdi speeding through a station at 150 kmph - these all existed well before Clarkson even had the idea to go to India and do his show. Why has the high commission not protested any of these videos? Or had it not bothered to consider that a broadcaster like the BBC, whose proud representative Shri Mark Tully has been such a loyal fan of India for so many decades, could possibly denigrate the citizens of the world's largest democracy?

My feeling is that the Indian High Commission, suddenly realizing that it could be brought to task for granting visas and permits for this filming, is trying to do a CYA by expressing outrage at having been "deceived" by the Top gear team. There are, however, enough tell tale warning signs in the BBC's note to the high commission that, had someone been paying attention, could have led to a different outcome altogether. Start with the phrase "light-hearted" when describing the road trip. From the time of Monty Python (and perhaps earlier), British humour has had a distinctly dark undertone, with deliberate provocation and raising of issues to highlight social and political problems. British comedians (and many American ones as well) are merciless when it comes to pillorying politicians or other public figures, and tread a very thin line between what is tasteful and what is tasteless, even by the standards of their own country. Contrast that with India (and most other Asian cultures), where humour has typically meant slapstick, pie in the face type, antics, the kind that evokes loud guffaws from the Shekhar Sumans and Navjot Sidhus on the "Great Indian Laughter challenge". The ability to understand and appreciate subtle humour, innuendoes and even puns is singularly missing, except amongst a very small group of people (who perhaps laughed at the entire Top gear episode, not just at the Indians, but also the Brits). 

Given this difference in perception between the two cultures, could someone in the High Commission have dug a little deeper and looked at some prior episodes of Top Gear to see the outcome of road trips in other countries? And if they were concerned about the manner in which Clarkson had apparently mocked Mexico in the past, could they have stipulated that the producers would air the episode only after it was reviewed by someone from, for example, the ICCR, who might have used their yardstick to judge whether the content would be acceptable or not? Or provide a guide with them who could judge whether the show was being filmed properly or not. I would imagine if Top Gear were going to film in China, or Russia, then the government would be able to exercise that kind of authority.

The second waning sign was the talk of "spontaneous interaction" between the presenters and potentially several tens of millions of Indians that they might encounter in Mumbai, Jaipur, Delhi and beyond. They did not indicate that they would meet just upper class Indians, those who spoke English, or those who owned fancy cars. Their potential encounters would also include the truck driver at a highway dhaba, or youngsters playing cricket or countless others who just seemed interesting. Since these would not be scripted interviews, the High commission would have no idea what might be recorded. What if the team came across a Sikh truck driver who launched into a diatribe on the atrocities of 1984? A young bride on her way to her in-laws with a truckful of dowry? Was there any consideration to the potential fallout from such shocking encounters? Or did the High Commission expect that these three western gentlemen would just stay in five star hotels, eat at expensive restaurants, meet with educated Indians, and go back to the West and tell about the fabulous development of the former jewel in the crown, no longer a land of snake charmers and elephants and maharajas? (wait, we still have all of those, even the last one, despite the abolition of privy purses and titles in the 1970s!)

If the above two points was not cause for concern, then the last sentence should surely have raised several red flags - filming "busy street scenes" to illustrate "local car culture" that exists in India. Again, the producers did not state that they would film only at Pali Hill in Mumbai, or Chanakyapuri in Delhi, upscale localities where the cars on the road would rival those in Mayfair and Belgravia. A busy street scene in India, to even the most well traveled Westerner, is nothing short of chaos. I marvel at the fact that these three gents drove 17 miles from Andheri station to Churchgate to try and beat the dabbawallas (and lost spectacularly, I might add, with one car spilling its load of dabbas onto a busy street, and another ending up somewhere near what looked like Khandala), without hitting anyone or being hit. Along the way, they filmed people crossing busy roads at every conceivable location, cars, buses, taxis, cycles, scooters, motorcycles and pedestrians all jostling for space. Similarly, the highway trip from Jaipur to Delhi could not have been anything short of sheer terror to someone doing this for the first time, and exposed the real dangers of travelling on Indian roads. I imagine the High commission is well aware of the statistics of road deaths in India, and could have imagined that a drive down the NH-8 would make the stark realities behind the golden quadrilateral project all too evident. Or perhaps when they visit India, they don't really get to see the state of the roads, sitting in the back seat of their chauffeur driven, air conditioned car with tinted windows ?

As for "local car culture", there is none. For all the growth in the automobile sector over the past decade, most Indians are still blissfully unaffected by having their own personal mobility solution on four wheels, preferring to ride on two wheels where they can afford it, or on the back of a truck or tempo or minibus or anything else that can move faster than the speed of walking. Did the Indian high commission expect Clarkson to meet with, for example, the BMW owners in Gurgaon, or the Mercedes afficionados from Aurangabad, to debate the finer points of an in-line vs a V-6? To their credit, the team did hold the Top gear hill climb challenge, where a number of Indian cars participated, and the Tata Nano actually performed extremely well (hopefully Cyrus Mistry can use that in his attempts to revive sales!) And Clarkson mentions early on that the Jaguar he drives is now owned by an Indian company (Tata again), thus taking a dig at the British manufacturing industry that has long since fallen from its dominant position. 

Actually, the show should be as much of an embarassment for British industry, given the nature of the goods that are displayed at the so called "trade show" that is held in Delhi, where the high society, page 3 types show up in their Bentleys and BMWs, most likely thrilled at having been invited by "white sahibs" to a function with some free food. In return, they get to see a lawn mower that runs amok, a live demo of a trouser press and marmite on biscuits as finger food. And what's more, not a single one of them seems to even make any kind of comment, or realize that the "trade show" is actually not what it appears to be. Perhaps there isn't enough "candid camera" on Indian TV!

In my opinion, the show has done just what it set out to - film three westerners driving in India, pointing out both the good and the bad. If there is a scene with a few people urinating on street corners in Jaipur (at least they didn't show people defecating alongside the railway line), then there are spectacular views of the mountains of Himachal Pradesh (at least one thing that appears to be clearly in line with their stated intentions!) Jeremy Clarkson jokes about tourists getting Delhi Belly and having a toilet in the back of the car for convenience - the truth is that many Indians would share the same fate if they drank anything but bottled water. They joke about the dabbawallas, and their unsophisticated methods, but point out that their success rate would be the envy of just about every major company! As for the infamous banners alongside the train, I doubt that anyone who read that sign really understood what eating English muffins really meant (speaking of which, how did they get permission to simply get off at a station and hang the banners? Another governmental lapse that might need to be investigated)

If we can agree that Clarkson and Co have not fabricated their show, and it is a truthful representation of their encounters through the subcontinent, then the only charge that can be fairly levelled against them is one of cherry picking events to convey a negative impression. But that does not appear to be the case as described above. There are many different ways to deal with the truth. The first is to accept it and seek to alter the negative perceptions of cultural outsiders (an upset tummy is just the tip of the iceberg), perhaps through positive propaganda like "Incredible !ndia" advertisements. The second is to ignore it, hoping it will either go away, or shrug it off with a "there's nothing we can do about this". The third way, which the High Commission has chosen, and which Indians will continue to choose as long as morality and honour are rated higher than facts, is to condemn it, call it an outrage, claim to be deeply offended by it, ask for apologies and elevate it to the level of a diplomatic incident. Everything but laugh at it. That's because while the British gave us a parliamentary system, rule of law, the railways, cricket (sorry, I just reopened the other wound!) and - yes - even the damn roads and cars that featured so prominently in Clarkson's Indian adventure, they sadly were never able to give us a sense of humour.