Strict enforcement cannot bridge institutional gaps

Crusaders are built and scapegoats are found, swiftly punished even as institutional problems linger.

Tukaram Mundhe is the latest knight in shining armour to have emerged — the Maharashtra Food and Drug Administration (FDA) chief has struck terror in the hearts of Mumbai restaurants, many of which may have relegated the Food Safety and Standards Authority of India (FSSAI) and its regional representatives to the taxidermist’s table as a toothless, long-dead tiger.

India is a country where the majority survives on natural immunity acquired to withstand the microbes in tap water, often due to the confluence of sewage-pipe contents and treated water deemed fit for human consumption.

MNCs and Indian food joints alike are scurrying for cover; many, generally considered reputable, are shell-shocked to find licences suspended for months after inspections. Mundhe has even cracked down on sellers of food commodities sold loose that are especially prone to adulteration.

Why, then, is this saviour not being greeted with grateful hosannas but causing chills to run down many spines across the country? It doesn’t require rocket science to unravel the mystery. Enforcement, over the past few years, has become synonymous with bureaucratic overreach, almost bulldozing in nature. And there has been an incomprehensible reluctance from the judiciary to keep this in check. In such a scenario, the material and reputational damage incurred by the targeted party has often been irreparable.

Two sayings sum things up here, the one about good intentions paving the path to hell and TS Eliot’s poetic observation about the shadow falling between conception and creation (execution, in the bureaucratic context). Both the FSSAI and, now, the Maharashtra FDA seem unaware of adages and poetic warnings.

There was a time when the FSSAI had aroused hopes that it will partner with street food vendors and small eateries to help them adopt best practices in handling and producing food hygienically, and leverage standards to prosper. The authority spent much energy making consumers aware of the significance of labels and packaging, statutory warnings, and expiry dates.

But it wasn’t long before the fine print became so small that no one would willingly squint to read it. Word wizardry did the rest. Sugar-free, zero transfats, nature identical, etc, could confuse even the experts when numbers from some technical list followed in parentheses.

The Bombay High Court has, according to reports, rapped Mundhe lightly on the knuckles for suspending the licences of parties that had registered 98% compliance. But will this admonishment be enough to rein in other Don Quixotes (individuals and institutions alike)?

Some harsh realities certainly can’t be wished away. Can compliances be ensured with multiple enforcement agencies exercising their jurisdiction in the same space — to illustrate, municipal and other licensing authorities and beat police constables who look the other way with a wink after some grease money has been received? These now operate a complex web of relationships premised on a crude understanding of the “live and let live” principle that can’t be undone overnight.

India is a country where the majority survives on natural immunity acquired to withstand the microbes in tap water, often due to the confluence of sewage-pipe contents and treated water deemed fit for human consumption.

It is the same for adulterated food grains and oils. Hoarding and black marketing have proved impossible to exterminate. Pathogens have become drug-resistant. It is definitely not the optimal condition, but can we really beat the virus?

The punishment prescribed by law is mandatory, but conviction needs much rigour to earn. So, the process is often made the punishment. Food safety and standards laws, like many other pieces of legislation, are meant to deliver public good but can also be weaponised by governments against political opponents. After decades-long deep slumber, authorities may, one day (sometimes close to a scheduled electoral battle) wake up and discover that offenders have violated fire- or food-safety norms. Those who suffer are often the small fry, not the sharks. At such times, partisan, even sectarian, patronage could undermine the governance intent of enforcement.

Returning to the sale and purchase of loose food commodities — and keeping aside the question of adulteration for a moment — this is certainly not a choice. The poor have almost no other option to turn to. But the government and authorities need to act and, more importantly for them, be seen to have acted to safeguard public interests.

So, crusaders are built and scapegoats are found, swiftly punished even as institutional problems linger. And in present times, the problem has become even more challenging — no one knows what happens when tech-savvy producers collaborate with aggregator platforms and sell us sub-par food.

Pushpesh Pant is an academic, writer and food-critic. The views expressed are personal