Do and Undo: The high-stakes game of scrapping public projects

Raju Korti
In the highly crooked landscape of Indian politics, there appears a pattern preceding most elections: the tendency of opposition parties to promise the scrapping of major projects introduced by the ruling party. The latest example is Uddhav Thackeray's Shiv Sena declaring it would scrap the Dharavi Redevelopment Project if elected to power. Similar reversals, some of which immediately come to the mind and mentioned here, illustrate this recurring "do and undo" phenomenon. 

A Wikipedia grab of Dharavi

While people, divided on party lines, rejoice in this specious but senseless assurances, it is conveniently forgotten what this means to the citizens, and more critically, for the state's financial health. Take for instance the Bullet Train project in Maharashtra linking Mumbai and Ahmedabad. It initially received support from the Maharashtra Government. However, after the Vikas Aghadi (MVA) coalition came to power in 2019, there were suggestions to reassess the project's land acquisition process and question its viability, especially given its cost. It slowed down the project and delays only added to complications and cost escalation. The project was re-railed with the change in the government. This back-and-forth delayed construction, shot up costs, and frustrated stakeholders. The story of Mumbai's Metro 3, is not different.

The Statue of Unity in Gujarat, the Aarey Forest Metro Car Shed (Mumbai), the three-capital proposal of Andhra Pradesh, the Farm Laws Repeal, Article 370 and Goa Mining Ban only underscore the frequent shifts in policy when rival parties assume power, often leaving the projects in limbo and leading to escalating costs and heartburns. The effects range from economic disruptions to loss of public trust, with each example reinforcing the need for stability and continuity in state policy, especially on large-scale initiatives impacting millions of citizens. But trust deficit means little to parties blinded with political gains and brownie points.

Projects like the Dharavi Redevelopment take hits from such flip flops that are purely meant to show needless one-upmanship. There is little thought for the implications this would have for residents living there in challenging conditions. For years, Dharavi's residents have looked to redevelopment as a pathway to improved housing and sanitation, job opportunities, and enhanced living standards. If halted, the delay would extend the community's struggles, keep them languishing in deteriorating conditions, and shaking their faith in government promises, which in any case, are taken with a bagful of salt. Dharavi, as it were, should not have been allowed to happen in the first place but the federal governance in India has always been about first allowing a problem to grow and then resolve it for seeking political gains.

Political leaders never tire of shouting hoarse about poverty in the country. Chest beating for the have-nots has now outlived its utility as a political rhetoric, and yet, this spools plays regularly. Nobody is even amused anymore. Beyond this political recreation, such policy reversals have severe financial implications. For those who couldn't care this way or that, the loss is finally recovered from them. 

Projects like the Dharavi Redevelopment involve years of painstaking planning, tendering processes, and substantial investments in preparatory work. When a new government decides to halt or reverse these projects, these sunk costs -- money spent without producing a tangible result -- add up. Not only the public bears these losses, the state also diverts resources from potentially productive projects.

In Maharashtra, significant resources were directed towards major infrastructure projects like the Mumbai Metro, Coastal Road, and regional economic hubs. Political promises to put on hold, halt, scale back such initiatives -- often to align with ideological or populist positions -- disrupt their envisioned benefits. The state loses both direct financial investments and the potential long-term revenue and growth these projects are meant to generate.

The key question is whether these policy reversals serve any larger ideological purpose. While some policy shift reflect genuine ideological differences, many reversals are driven by political motives to serve the interests of a particular class of people or constituency. The Dharavi Project, for instance, is less about ideology and more of a politically symbolic gesture -- asserting that the new regime can and will undo its rivals' work. Adani or what is often bandied as "crony capitalism" is just a front. 

This political manoeuvring comes at a high price -- not just financially but also in terms of continuity and stability. The administrative machinery, which spends months if not years planning and implementing projects, is thrown into disarray when new governments rewrite policy plans. 

Such a "do and undo" cycle also adversely impacts investor and public confidence. Consistent policy changes make it challenging for investors and tax-payers (read citizens), especially in real estate, manufacturing and infrastructure, to trust long-term commitments. If foreign investors and development partners feel uncertain about project stability, they may hesitate to commit capital to projects that could be terminated based on electoral outcomes. Moreover, this cycle restricts bureaucratic progress, diverting attention from growth-centric policies. Bureaucrats, unable to rely on continuity, tend to become wary in decision-making. It shifts their focus to adopting short-term safe policies over long-term, transformative initiatives.

For a so called "progressive and Numero Uno" Maharashtra to emerge from the "do and undo" trap, a bipartisan approach to major policy decisions could be a step forward. Instituting bipartisan committees to vet large infrastructure projects before they commence, or establishing special legislative approvals for major reversals, could introduce checks on politically motivated policy reversals. Additionally, involving citizen advisory boards and local representatives in decision-making can create a direct connection between policy decisions and public sentiment. This could ensure that the people's needs are prioritized over political gains. The moot point is can this happen in a country where larger public interests are sacrificed for myopic political gains?

Maharashtra with its rich history and vast economic ambitions, cannot afford to allow its growth trajectory to be dictated by cyclical political rivalries. But can collaborative governance ever happen in a country where petty rivalries divide and rule hapless citizens?