Sure, everyone has a price; voters can be bought. But how fulfilling life would be if this money power were employed to advance the equality of opportunity for all Goans and improve their quality of life? queries BEN ANTAO.

IF POLITICS is the art of the possible, then money is the grease that makes it happen. In every age and climate, it seems that moneybags and politicians have come together to spawn and breed a new generation of suckers addicted to power engendered by money and politics. And, interestingly enough, of all the forms of government, democracy and freedom seem to attract the wildest hucksters.

In Goa the era of political corruption began in 1963 when the first elections were held in the Union territory. Like vultures, the moneybags quickly circled round their prey to peddle and promote their special interests. Spurred on by his Maratha allies, a lucky mining businessman named Dayanand Bandodkar began to dream in Technicolour — to merge Goa with Maharashtra. He had the loot to spare and the sentiment of an inferior caste to propel him onto the political wheel of fortune. Thus he bestirred himself at first in the Congress circles to entice big-name sympathizers, like doctors and lawyers, into his web of newfound destiny. And Hell hath seen no fury like that of a scorned politician-on-the-make. In defeat, Bandodkar’s swirling ambition and dangerous sentiment coalesced towards the formation of a new political party aptly named Maharashtrawadi Gomantak. Prominent iron ore exporters and shipping tycoons, the Chowgules, at once threw their filthy lucre behind the MG party, just as today they fund and support the Hindutva ideology.

Another businessman (Coca Cola franchise) with a giant ego and money to match emerged on the scene. He was Dr. Jack Sequeira, a bearded Catholic, newly baptised nationalist, who smelled an opportunity to make a name for himself. He formed a new party called United Goans, a motley crew of political neophytes comprising doctors, lawyers, and businessmen, to contest the elections on the platform of a separate state for Goa in the Indian federation.

The national Congress party of Jawaharlal Nehru, the prime minister, whose government had annexed Goa from the Portuguese with military action in December 1961, set up its own local Pradesh committee headed by Purushottam Kakodkar. The moneybags made good use of the Dabolim airport, flying to New Delhi and back to enrich the Congress beyond its wildest expectations. While Vaikuntrao Dempo, of the enterprising Dempo Brothers, purchased his Congress ticket for the Pernem constituency, a number of other candidates, including Kakodkar, secured their accreditations on the strength of being freedom fighters.

As the election campaigns swung into action, it became increasingly clear that money wedded to sentiment was a lethal combination in a territory where the lower castes, the uneducated and economically disadvantaged were in the majority among the 500,000 voters. Since numbers play a decisive role in a democracy, the outcome of the elections held on December 9, 1963 surprised both Bandodkar and Sequeira, the principal beneficiaries. If Bandodkar had spent lavishly on getting the vote out, his counterpart in the United Goans also blew a lot of dough on trucks, loud speakers, and campaign literature. Ultimately, it was the sentiment that won the day.

The Congress, deluded by its own propaganda in the Dempo-owned Navhind Times, cut a sad and sorry figure to the utter dismay of freedom fighters, many of whom had felt entitled to be elected in a Goa they had long fought for and struggled to make free. Instead, the Goan electorate had retreated into a cocoon of caste-consciousness, language, and religion. The post-colonial, political landscape of Goa showed a communal face, displaying its true colors for all to see with open-mouthed wonder. And it was MONEY that did it, money being the sinews of politics.

For the benefit of those who may have forgotten, here are the results of the first elections. In a legislature of 30 covering the Union Territory of Goa (28 seats) Daman (one) and Diu (one), MG won 14, UG 12, with 2 independents, a lone Congress victory in Daman, and another independent in Diu.

While the bearded would-be saviour of Goa was gloating over the astonishing UG performance, Bandodkar who himself did not contest any seat was choreographing how to form the government, even though his party did not have a clear majority. It was a giddy time to make deals, to grab the advantage of the narrow lead. The merger lobbyists with moneybags lined up at Bandodkar’s door atop the hill of Altinho. Swiftly and adroitly, they cut a deal with the two independents and approached the Lt. Governor Sachdev, who gave his assent and consent to the MG to form the first government.

The high-purposed Sequeira was caught in a dramatic squeeze play. He too had the requisite moolah to negotiate a deal but obviously not the political savvy to understand the art of the possible. Even after the swearing-in of the new government, he had opportunities, in no-confidence motions, to bring the government down. But alas! In the Legislature inside the Palacio Idalcao, I watched him time and again with risible fascination as he waved the little book, Robert’s Rules of Order, as if the MG members would care, let alone soil their ignorant hands by touching that ultimate handbook of parliamentary rules of procedure.

As for Bandodkar, his popularity in the party swelled. The gratitude of his newly elected MLA’s was so deep, almost reverential, that they persuaded their blue-eyed, partisan do-gooder to take the chief minister’s chair. And Bandodkar so loved that kodel he wasted no time in legally claiming it in a by-election victory—with, you guessed it, the power of money.

Money talks. Extravagant stories from the kolvontanche abodes of Mangesh and Mardol began to reach my ears throughout 1964, feel-good stories of compassion attributed to Bahusaheb Bandodkar, who was transformed into a virtual god by the Bahujan Samaj residents of Ponda taluka.

And the MG icon, soon after having been lionized in Poona and Bombay, went about doing all he can to fill the jobs in government departments with merger supporters. Debates in the Legislature grew so outrageous and exasperating that at one stage, early in the New Year, several MG members were speaking in Marathi and claiming it to be Konkani, leaving a clearly frustrated Sequeira with no choice but to walk out in protest. Still, the Opposition looked as if unable or unwilling to stop the steady, partisan feather-bedding in government service.

By November 1964 I too was swayed to think that the Zallach Pahije forces of MG would eventually win the day. That it didn’t happen in the Opinion Poll of January 16, 1967 was reportedly due in large measure to the sustained, unwavering efforts of by now a politically matured Sequeira and his UG party. By then the political education of the leader of the Opposition was truly complete. Both the conscientious Catholics and the enlightened Hindus saw the light and saved the day. Or have they? I ask today.

Flash forward to 2004. While the pro-merger forces have all but dwindled, Goa is beset with another plague that threatens to strip the fabric of a secular India. The BJP and its program (or is it pogrom?) of Hindu fundamentalism pose a grave peril to the constitution of India, a constitution that guarantees religious freedom to all Indians. The Hindutva agenda is a throwback to the caves of darkness that would horrify the artists of Ajanta and Ellora if they were living today.

It’s no secret that the political destiny of India and Goa is at a crossroads today. In the last elections the people of India showed they’d had enough of the BJP politics of division, the self-dealing of upper castes and Hindu fundamentalists. They stopped the Hindu juggernaut driven by big MONEY. In Goa such a pernicious ideology as practised by the BJP should not have been allowed to find a footing. Yet it is alive because of the greed of elected politicians who have no qualms of selling themselves for 30 pieces of silver. Nevertheless, the people of Goa, if they have the democratic will, can let the Judases hang themselves.

Sure, everyone has a price; voters can be bought. But how fulfilling life would be if this money power were employed to advance the equality of opportunity for all Goans and improve their quality of life. Politics then would be a thing of beauty, a joy to behold. And politicians (and their chamchas) would not have to be liars, crooks and amoral creatures.

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