As per the Constitution (Ninety First Amendment) Act 2003, the total number of Ministers, including the Chief Minister, in the Council of Ministers in a State shall not exceed fifteen percent of the total number of members of the Legislative Assembly of that State: Provided that the number of Ministers, including Chief Minister in a State shall not be less than twelve. Ever since that amendment, Meghalaya has had to cut down its ministerial berth to 12 but political appointments with ministerial statuses continued. In the past the Meghalaya cabinet was top heavy with as many as 20-25 ministers without any visible results of their work. Meghalaya is infamous for its coalition governments where each of the supporting parties would want ministers appointed from their party. The same continues to date except that the word ‘minister’ has given way to “Advisers to the Chief Minister.” Considering that the CM has nine advisers the question to ask is what are they advising him on.
These advisers are supposed to be on their toes to take stock of the situation in the state and to warn the Chief Minister of any possible law and order fall-out and to give advance warning to diffuse the situation through pre-emptive action. The Chief Minister is burdened with more than he can handle. The advisers are paid to assist him with prior information on a host of issues. But it would appear that these ‘Advisers’ only enjoy their statuses and perks without delivering anything substantial. Considering that each of these advisers are paid from the public exchequer it is time to seek accountability from them and to ask them to publicly inform the voters how they have contributed towards improving the governance system. It is common to hear remarks that the Meghalaya Chief Minister has “many advisers but gets no advice.” The public perception is that the quality of decision-making and policy direction often does not reflect the benefit of expert counsel. In the present NPP-led government advisers have been appointed in different sectors—ranging from finance and political affairs to infrastructure and development. The primary role of advisers is to provide policy inputs, help anticipate problems, and bring specialised knowledge into governance. They can also act as a bridge between government and civil society stakeholders, business groups and local communities. But that can happen if the advisers possess expertise in their respective fields. For instance, an adviser in the Education Department should be an academician with experience considering Meghalaya’s abysmal performance in the education sector. But do we have such an expert guiding the Education Department?
Also, what is lacking is transparency. Advisers rarely have clearly defined responsibilities that are publicly known. The public therefore finds it difficult to see how their advice translates into better policy outcomes. If the Chief Minister needs so many advisers in every sector of governance then what is the bureaucracy there for? If advisers simply duplicate what the bureaucracy already does—or if their recommendations are not formally integrated into the decision-making process—their presence adds little value. It only burdens the public exchequer. Also, if policies are reactive rather than strategic, the existence of multiple advisers serves no purpose. An effective advisory team should provide evidence-based policy recommendations, and long-term planning. But in Meghalaya advisers have become a symbol of political patronage rather than good governance. Time for the public to question this unnecessary level of governance.
