Why can’t you have it all

We grew up on a promise that if we worked hard enough, planned carefully, and optimised intelligently, we could have it all. Modern culture reinforces this belief on a daily basis that we can have a successful career, a loving family, financial security, good health, lasting friendships, purpose, and inner peace. Social media displays curated snapshots of people who appear to be excelling simultaneously in every domain of life. We have been hearing since our childhoods that balance is achievable with the right morning routine of ‘early to bed, early to rise, makes a person healthy, wealthy and wise’. Yet beneath this narrative lies a simple truth that you can’t have it all, at least not all at once, not at full intensity, and certainly not without significant trade-offs. The reason is not a lack of ambition or discipline, but scarcity, which is the most fundamental principle governing both economics and human life.

Scarcity is often associated with money, but today, the scarcest resources are time, energy, and attention. Every human being, regardless of wealth or status, receives the same twenty-four hours each day, making time the most democratic of all constraints. No one can accumulate unused hours or borrow from the future without cost. We speak casually about ‘managing time,’ yet time itself cannot be managed as it flows at a constant pace. Every hour invested in one activity is an hour unavailable for another, managing only the choices between time availability. The professional who chooses to work late trades time that could have been spent with family. The parent who prioritises caring for children may delay career advancement. The entrepreneur who pours weekends into building a venture sacrifices leisure and rest. These trade-offs are often invisible in the moment, but they accumulate quietly over the years. Life does not unfold in parallel tracks where everything progresses simultaneously. It unfolds sequentially, through seasons that demand different commitments.

If time is the vehicle of life, energy is its fuel. Two individuals may possess identical schedules yet operate at dramatically different capacities. Energy fluctuates with sleep, nutrition, stress, age, emotional well-being, and sense of purpose. Modern ambition frequently assumes that energy can be summoned indefinitely through willpower, caffeine/nicotine, or motivation. But biology imposes limits, cognitive fatigue reduces clarity and creativity, and emotional exhaustion diminishes patience and empathy, while physical depletion erodes resilience. Burnout is not a failure of time management but is the inevitable consequence of sustained energy misallocation. Many high achievers discover that even when their calendars appear optimised, their internal reserves are depleted. They attempt to excel in multiple demanding roles of being a professional, parent, partner, and friend simultaneously without acknowledging that each role draws from the same finite energy pool. Over time, the system protests, sleep suffers, health declines, and relationships strain. The pursuit of ‘having it all’ quietly converts into chronic exhaustion.

Perhaps more than time or energy, attention defines scarcity. In the digital age, attention has become a commodity aggressively competed for by corporations and platforms. Notifications, news feeds, emails, and endless streams of content fragment focus into micro-intervals, with us being connected to everything and fully present in almost nothing. Attention determines lived experience; whatever captures our focus becomes our reality. When attention is scattered across dozens of stimuli each hour, depth disappears, and conversations become half-engaged exchanges. Work becomes interrupted bursts of activity, and leisure becomes simultaneous scrolling. Creativity, which requires uninterrupted thought, struggles to emerge in fragmented environments. Intimacy, which depends on sustained presence, weakens under constant distraction. The desire to ‘have it all’ often leads to diluted attention spread thinly across many domains, leaving none fully nourished.

Technology reinforces the thinking that multitasking is efficient, but cognitive science consistently demonstrates the cost of task switching. Each shift of focus consumes mental energy and reduces performance quality. We may believe we are building a career, nurturing relationships, maintaining fitness, staying informed, and cultivating a side project all at once. We may be engaging partially in each, achieving adequacy but rarely excellence. To choose one path intensely is to decline others, at least temporarily, as excellence is exclusive by nature and rewards those willing to concentrate rather than diversify endlessly.

The pressure to ‘have it all’ is further amplified by comparison, especially as digital platforms present curated narratives where achievements are showcased without context. We compare our daily struggles to others’ peak moments and conclude that we are falling behind. Yet every visible success rests upon invisible trade-offs. The CxO with rapid career progression may have sacrificed personal time. The entrepreneur enjoying autonomy may endure financial uncertainty. The individual projecting calm online may be filled with anxiety privately. Role overload has become a defining feature of modern adulthood. We inflate our identities, attempting to be accomplished professionals, devoted family members, socially conscious citizens, physically fit individuals, and culturally relevant participants all at once. Without conscious prioritisation, this multiplicity breeds internal conflict.

Trade-offs are not signs of failure but are expressions of values. Every yes carries an implicit no. When we resist acknowledging trade-offs, we drift into reactive living, responding to emails, obligations, and external demands rather than intentional priorities. Economics teaches that scarce resources must be allocated toward what yields the highest perceived value. The same principle applies to life, and time, energy, and attention must be directed consciously. Without deliberate allocation, they will be consumed by urgency rather than importance. The question shifts from ‘Can I have it all?’ to ‘What is worth the cost?’ Clarity transforms scarcity from limitation into guidance.

Fragmentation carries hidden consequences as shallow engagement reduces satisfaction. When attention is dispersed continuously, creativity declines and emotional presence weakens. We may touch many aspects of life but rarely hold any deeply. The paradox of modern abundance is experiential thinness. Surrounded by options, we struggle to experience fullness. Having everything available does not equate to inhabiting it meaningfully.

Perhaps the problem lies in our definition of ‘having it all.’ If it means maximising every measurable domain simultaneously, which is unattainable. But if it means living in alignment with consciously chosen priorities, it becomes possible. Fulfilment may not require expansion in all directions, but it does require coherence. When time, energy, and attention align with core values, life feels integrated even if certain ambitions are deferred. We may not achieve extreme wealth, recognition, and perfect physical condition simultaneously, yet we may experience deep contentment through purposeful work, loving relationships, and sustainable health practices.

Designing a life within scarcity requires discipline and ruthless prioritisation to clarify which domains deserve peak focus. Protecting energy through sleep, movement, and boundaries preserves capacity. Practising attention hygiene, limiting digital intrusion and creating focused blocks enhances depth. Strategic neglect acknowledges that some areas will temporarily receive minimal investment without inducing guilt. Redefining success as alignment rather than accumulation reduces external pressure. These practices do not eliminate scarcity, but teaches us to navigate it wisely.

There is liberation in accepting limits, where comparison loses some of its sting when we acknowledge that no human can optimise every dimension simultaneously. Even the most accomplished individuals operate within constraints. Everyone trades something. The artist may trade financial stability for creative freedom. The corporate leader may trade time for influence. The activist may trade comfort for impact. The parent may trade professional acceleration for presence. No path is without a cost, and recognising this universal truth fosters humility and self-compassion.

Ultimately, the longing to ‘have it all’ often masks deeper desires for security, significance, love, belonging, or meaning. When these needs are identified clearly, excess pursuits lose their urgency. One may discover that respect matters more than status, intimacy more than visibility, and contribution more than accumulation. You cannot maximise career, family, health, wealth, friendships, and personal growth simultaneously at peak intensity. Human existence is bounded by time, powered by finite energy, and shaped by limited attention. Yet within those boundaries lies possibility. You may not have everything, but you can choose what receives your best. In a culture obsessed with expansion, the rare act is deliberately selecting what truly matters and committing to it fully. You cannot have it all, but you can have enough, deeply experienced and consciously chosen. And in the arithmetic of a scarce world, that may be the closest approximation of abundance available to us.

The Paradox of Choice

Today when we can open a trading account in minutes using multitudes of apps on our smartphones, start a side hustle overnight, and invest in everything from mutual funds to crypto, it’s easy to assume that greater financial freedom leads to greater happiness and security. After all, classical economics taught us that more choice expands utility and that having more options allows individuals to maximise satisfaction according to their preferences.

However, paradoxically, the modern reality is quite the opposite. The very availability of multiple financial choices, from investment platforms and passive income streams to flexible careers, has made us more anxious, instead of more secure. This tension between freedom and fatigue is at the core of what psychologist Barry Schwartz famously called The Paradox of Choice, that when faced with too many options, people often experience paralysis, regret, and dissatisfaction. In the financial world, this paradox is amplified by behavioural biases, social pressures, and the illusion of control. The promise of ‘financial freedom’ is increasingly becoming a source of stress and decision fatigue.

At the core of neoclassical economics lies the assumption of the rational consumer, an individual seeking to maximise utility given available resources and information. In theory, having more options allows a person to reach a higher indifference curve, implying greater satisfaction. However, this theory assumes two conditions of perfect information and bounded rationality that modern life rarely satisfies. In reality, our capacity to process and evaluate financial information is limited. According to Nobel laureate Herbert Simon, bounded rationality doesn’t really exist as people settle for ‘good enough’ decisions given cognitive constraints.

When applied to financial decisions of choosing mutual funds, stocks, insurance policies, side gigs, or career shifts, the cognitive load of evaluating multiple dimensions (returns, risk, time, opportunity cost, tax impact, and ethical values) becomes overwhelming. And, eventually, this results in anxiety, procrastination, and in many cases, decision paralysis.

Behavioural economics has consistently challenged the rational agent model by introducing psychological realism. The ‘overchoice effect,’ as demonstrated in Sheena Iyengar and Mark Lepper’s famous “jam experiment” (formally published in 2000), found that too many options reduce the likelihood of making any decision at all, instead of motivating consumers.

Translating this into financial behaviour, investors today face an explosion of options:

  • Thousands of mutual funds and ETFs, each claiming a unique advantage
  • Multiple investment apps with different algorithms and influencers
  • Gig economy trends from freelancing to affiliate marketing to AI content creation
  • Cryptocurrencies, NFTs, index funds, and more

Every new choice promises empowerment but demands research, comparison, and ongoing monitoring. Instead of creating financial autonomy, it traps individuals in a constant state of vigilance, which is the fear of missing out (FOMO) combined with the fear of making the wrong call (FOBO). The result is not empowerment but exhaustion or decision fatigue. Each micro-decision (Should I invest this month? Which stock to pick? Should I switch careers or start a podcast?) depletes mental energy. Over time, this erodes not just financial confidence but emotional well-being.

Daniel Kahneman’s Prospect Theory helps explain why financial freedom can be anxiety-inducing. The theory suggests that people are loss averse as the pain of losing 100 rupees is psychologically twice as intense as the pleasure of gaining the same amount. In an environment overflowing with options, every choice implies multiple foregone alternatives. Every decision carries not just the risk of loss but the weight of opportunity cost. This constant mental simulation of missed opportunities amplifies anticipated regret, a core feature of financial anxiety. Ironically, the very flexibility that defines financial freedom multiplies the avenues for potential regret. The ideology of ‘financial freedom’ is closely tied to neoliberal individualism, which believes that individuals are solely responsible for their economic success or failure. The gig economy and self-investing culture are framed as the democratisation of opportunity, but in practice, they shift systemic risk from institutions to individuals.

In the past, financial security was linked to stable employment, pensions, and collective risk-sharing. Today’s economy glorifies personal agency: ‘be your own boss,’ ‘invest smart, ‘create multiple income streams.’ This narrative sounds empowering, but simultaneously imposes a moral burden that if you are not financially thriving, it’s because you didn’t hustle enough or make the right investments. Digital technology has magnified this paradox. Social media and fintech apps blur the line between information and manipulation. Platforms gamify investing (colourful charts, animations, notifications) to keep users engaged. Influencers promote ‘hot’ stocks on popular social media or ‘passive income secrets’ that fuel financial comparison and insecurity.

The attention economy transforms finance from a domain of prudence into one of performance. People aren’t just managing money, instead they’re managing an identity. The psychological cost is immense and full of information overload, impulsive trading, and the erosion of long-term financial discipline. It is a proven fact that dopamine spikes from small gains, mimicking gambling behaviour, creating cycles of thrill and despair. 

This anxiety can be visualised through diminishing marginal utility of choice. Initially, increasing options enhances utility as people enjoy flexibility. However, beyond a threshold, the utility curve flattens and then declines as cognitive costs exceed the benefits of freedom.

Mathematically, if U = f(C) represents utility derived from choice (C), then

            for small CdU/dC > 0 (freedom increases satisfaction),

            for large CdU/dC < 0 (freedom decreases satisfaction).

This inverted-U relationship illustrates that optimal well-being arises not from maximum freedom but from structured freedom, where choice is curated, meaningful, and bounded by context or expertise.

The paradox of financial choice reveals a deeper human truth that enjoying freedom without boundaries can be as imprisoning as constraint. The promise of financial autonomy has mutated into an obligation to constantly optimise, compare, and compete. It seems like we are drowning in option value as every unrealised choice weighs on our psyche. We are victims of decision fatigue as we are living through the privatisation of financial risk disguised as empowerment. True financial freedom, therefore, is not about multiplying options but mastering them and knowing when to choose, when to stop, and when to rest. As with most paradoxes, the solution lies in the balance of the freedom to simplify, ignore, and define what ‘enough’ means in a world that always demands more.

Economics is not about money

Most people think economics is about money, but it’s not. If it were, your life would make far more sense than it does. Economics begins much earlier than money, as it starts the moment you realise that you cannot have everything at once. You cannot have a high-paying job and abundant free time. You cannot have absolute security and complete freedom. You cannot say yes to every opportunity without saying no to something else. Economics is not about how much you earn, but what you give up for it. That invisible sacrifice, ‘what you could have done but didn’t, ‘ is the true currency of economics. We seldom talk about it, but it quietly shapes every decision we make.

Think of any random normal day of your life. You wake up earlier than you would like because traffic can be unpredictable. You scroll your phone while sipping morning tea, not because you want to, but because silence feels uncomfortable. You choose a quicker breakfast over a healthier one. You delay a difficult conversation at home. You tolerate a job you dislike because it pays the bills. None of these choices feels ‘economic.’ They feel personal. But every choice that you make is a trade-off. When you choose speed over health, comfort over honesty, income over meaning, you are doing economics. You are allocating scarce resources, such as time, energy, attention, and emotional capacity. Money enters later, as a convenient measuring tool, but the logic is already at work.

In India and several other similar developing countries, we live in a constant state of trade-offs. Long commutes to work steal hours from families. Overcrowded classrooms dilute learning. Low wages are compensated by the promise of stability. We accept these compromises so routinely that they stop feeling like choices at all and begin to feel like fate. Economics helps us see that they are not.

No matter how rich or poor you are, time is always in limited supply. A billionaire has the same twenty-four hours as a daily-wage worker. A student in Delhi and a farmer in Bihar both face limited days and uncertain futures. What differs is not scarcity itself but how it is managed and who bears its cost. Scarcity forces choices, which create trade-offs, and ultimately, trade-offs determine winners and losers.

If economics is about trade-offs, then the most important question is not about what we want, but what we are willing to give up, and who decides? This is where economics moves from being a personal lens to a political one. In democracies, these decisions are meant to be collective, negotiated through debate, budgets, and votes.  When a government invests heavily in urban infrastructure but underfunds primary healthcare, it is not simply prioritising growth over welfare, but is choosing whose time matters. The commuter stuck in traffic benefits from a flyover, while the woman who walks kilometres to a hospital pays the price. These outcomes are often defended as efficiency, but efficiency for whom is rarely asked. Economics reminds us that aggregate gains can coexist with deep individual losses, and that averages hide pain as effectively as they reveal progress.

This way of thinking also changes how we view success. Growth figures, income levels, and productivity rates dominate economic conversations, but they measure outputs, not experiences. A country can grow richer while its people grow more anxious. A company can become more profitable while its workers burn out. A household can earn more while spending less time together. When we ignore these costs, we risk building systems that look successful on paper but feel unbearable in practice. 

There is also a moral dimension to trade-offs that markets alone cannot resolve. Markets are excellent at responding to purchasing power, but often silent about need. They reward those who can pay, not those who suffer most. That is why leaving everything to ‘the market’ is itself a choice, one that often shifts costs onto the weakest. When clean air, safe housing, or quality education are treated purely as commodities, inequality is not an accident, but it is an outcome. Economics helps us see that fairness is not automatic, but must be designed.

This is the uncomfortable truth economics insists on. Every policy, every system, every personal decision benefits one and burdens someone else. There is no free lunch, only cleverly hidden bills. When a city prioritises flyovers over footpaths, it chooses cars over pedestrians. When an education system rewards rote learning, it sacrifices curiosity. When a company celebrates long working hours, it quietly taxes family life. These are not moral failures but are economic decisions. However, pretending they are natural or inevitable prevents us from questioning them.

The most dangerous costs are the ones we don’t notice. When an app is free, we assume there is no price. When a government scheme promises something for nothing, we rarely ask who is paying. When a product is cheap, we celebrate efficiency, not exploitation. But every benefit has a cost. If you don’t see it, it’s probably being paid by someone else, or even by your future self. Cheap food often means underpaid farmers. Free social media means monetised attention. Low taxes can mean broken public services. Fast growth can mean polluted air and exhausted bodies. Economics trains us to ask an unfashionable question: compared to what? Without this lens, we mistake convenience for progress.

At an individual level, thinking economically can be liberating. It replaces guilt with clarity. If you understand that your exhaustion is not just a personal failure but the result of incentives that reward overwork, you can begin to question those incentives. If you recognise that your inability to save is linked to rising living costs rather than laziness, you can demand better policies instead of harsher self-judgment. Awareness does not eliminate constraints, but it changes how we respond to them.

One of the quiet cruelties of modern life is how easily individuals are blamed for structural problems. If you are unemployed, you are told to upskill. If you are stressed, you are told to meditate. If you are poor, you are told to work harder. But you are rarely told to examine the system that made these outcomes likely in the first place. Economics reveals patterns where we see only personal failure. It shows how incentives shape behaviour, how power hides behind ‘market outcomes,’ and how rules written long ago continue to decide who gets ahead today. This does not absolve individuals of responsibility, but it does bring honesty to the conversation. You cannot fix what you refuse to name.

Economics is not about predicting stock prices or defending ideologies, but is more about clarity. About seeing how choices are shaped, how costs are distributed, and how power operates quietly through everyday decisions. You do not need equations to think economically. Instead, you need curiosity and courage to ask uncomfortable questions. And you need the humility to accept that every solution creates new problems. Once you start seeing life this way, it becomes difficult to unsee. You begin to notice the price tags on things that never claimed to be for sale, like time, trust, dignity, and attention. That awareness does not make life easier, but it makes it more honest. And honesty, in the long run, is the most valuable currency we have. When we see costs clearly, we can finally argue about whether they are worth paying, and whether the bill is being shared fairly. India is a masterclass in everyday economics. Families choose stability over passion, young people choose migration over belonging, villages trade environment for employment, and women trade ambition for safety. These are not random decisions but often are rational responses to constraints. When options are limited, even painful choices begin to make sense. Understanding this limitation is empowerment.

Economics of Diwali

As we celebrate the sparkle of Diwali festivities with lights, the Indian economy, too, is glowing with festive energy. Diwali is not only a cultural and spiritual event but also an economic phenomenon that mobilizes consumption, trade, and emotion on a scale unmatched by any other festival in India. It is a festival where faith, finance, and family come together to illuminate not just homes but entire markets.

Diwali blends culture and commerce. Traditionally marking the return of Lord Ram to Ayodhya after 14 years of vanavasa (exile), the festival has evolved into India’s largest consumption cycle. According to industry estimates, Diwali season alone accounts for 30–40% of annual sales in sectors like jewellery, automobiles, electronics, apparel, and consumer goods.

In 2024, India’s festive spending during Diwali week was estimated at INR 3.2 lakh crore, reflecting a 17% rise over 2023, driven by rising disposable incomes, pent-up post-pandemic demand, and digital retail penetration. Retail chains, e-commerce platforms, and even microenterprises depend on this period to recover annual profits. For small traders, Diwali is often the difference between a good year and a bad one. The festival also synchronizes the Indian economy’s emotional rhythm—consumer sentiment peaks as the festival approaches, heightened by work bonuses, gifts, and an almost cultural belief that new purchases bring prosperity.

Two days before Diwali, Indians celebrate Dhanteras, considered the most auspicious day to buy gold, silver, or anything of value. Historically, this practice was rooted in agrarian prosperity cycles during which, farmers who had completed the harvest season invested their earnings in tangible assets like metals. Today, the sentiment remains, but the scale has exploded. The symbolism has migrated from the vault to the marketplace, aligning tradition with modern consumption.

Diwali’s economic landscape has been radically redrawn by digital commerce. In 2024, online festive sales crossed INR 90,000 crore, driven by e-commerce platforms like Amazon, Flipkart, and Meesho. Tier-II and Tier-III cities accounted for more than 60% of new shoppers, an indication that India’s digital inclusion is now deeply linked with its festive economy.

Algorithms have replaced astrologers in predicting purchasing patterns. AI-driven recommendations, influencer marketing, and digital payment ecosystems like UPI have made the act of buying faster and impulsive. While urban consumers enjoy massive discounts, small offline retailers struggle to match online prices. Many traditional businesses like sweet shops, garment stores, and gift outlets are now adapting with hybrid models, selling on WhatsApp or through community platforms. The local bazaar is not dying; it is simply going online.

Behind the glitter of malls and advertisements lies a quieter but equally powerful story of the informal and rural economy that powers Diwali. Across India, millions of artisans, potters, weavers, and small manufacturers depend on the season for a significant portion of their income. From handmade diyas in Bihar to terracotta idols from Bankura, paper lanterns in Maharashtra, and bamboo crafts from Northeastern states, Diwali sustains local creative economies that embody both tradition and entrepreneurship. In recent years, several NGOs and social enterprises have helped rural producers connect directly with urban buyers through digital platforms. For instance, self-help groups (SHGs) supported by government programs like NRLM (National Rural Livelihoods Mission) and private CSR initiatives now sell festive handicrafts on e-commerce sites and social media. The “Make in Village” movement during Diwali is becoming a quiet counter-narrative to imported mass-produced goods. Every diya sold is not just a source of light but a livelihood.

Gifting is central to Diwali’s economic ecosystem. From corporate gift hampers to sweets exchanged among families, the ritual symbolizes goodwill, reciprocity, and status. In 2024, India’s corporate gifting industry was valued at ₹12,000 crore, with strong growth projected for 2025. Beyond sweets and dry fruits, companies now gift experiences like wellness vouchers, eco-friendly hampers, and handmade products to reflect social consciousness and sustainability. The gifting economy also reveals deeper social psychology. Gifts during Diwali are not just commodities; they are currencies of relationship. In economic terms, they create “social capital”, the trust and goodwill that sustain business and personal networks alike.

In last decade or so, Diwali’s environmental impact has come under scrutiny. Delhi is the best (or worst) example of this intense air pollution from firecrackers making the environment unbreathable, plastic waste from packaging, and excessive electricity consumption have led to rising calls for a Green Diwali. The market is responding with conscious choices. In 2025, the sale of eco-friendly crackers and biodegradable decorations is expected to grow by 30%. Solar-powered lighting, organic sweets, and recycled packaging are becoming mainstream. Conscious consumers, especially younger urban Indians, are now demanding sustainable alternatives that align celebration with responsibility. The shift from conspicuous consumption to conscious consumption marks a new chapter in the economics of Diwali, one where prosperity is measured not just by spending, but by sustainability.

However, Diwali’s prosperity is not evenly distributed. Inflation affects the purchasing power of lower-income families who often face higher food and fuel prices during the season despite the recent GST reforms, which has significantly brought down the prices of most of the consumer goods. While the urban affluent splurge on gadgets and gold, many households cut back on essentials.

This divergence reflects the broader K-shaped recovery post-pandemic of the Indian economy, where upper segments surge ahead while those on the lower segments struggle. The festive glow, though radiant, hides shadows of inequality. For small retailers, rising input costs and competition from online giants have squeezed margins. For daily wage earners, the festival may mean temporary income spikes but little long-term security. Diwali illuminates both the promise and paradox of India’s growth story.

At its core, Diwali celebrates renewal of hope, homes, and human spirit. Economically too, it acts as a reset button for the nation’s consumer sentiment. The act of cleaning homes, buying new things, and lighting lamps mirrors the cyclical nature of economic optimism. For policymakers and economists, the festive season is a real-time barometer of demand. For families, it’s a reminder that prosperity is not just about wealth, but about togetherness and gratitude. In many ways, Diwali teaches an enduring lesson in economics that growth is sustainable only when it is inclusive, joyful, and mindful.

The economics of Diwali is not just about expenditure, but it is also about the exchange of energy, emotion, and enterprise. It reflects India’s evolving story of modernization rooted in tradition, digital transformation anchored in ritual, and capitalism softened by culture. The future of India’s festive economy will shine brightest when it balances profit with purpose, growth with gratitude, and consumption with conscience.

Social Capital in India: Old wine new bottle

Photo source: http://entrepid.sg

India faced the problems of economic development and poverty eradication twice on a massive scale. Firstly, it was felt acutely just after independence and secondly, it is being felt still more acutely, today, when under the pressure of globalization, India has to turn to United States of America and western countries for its development. When Indiabecame independent from the British rule in 1947, Pt. Jawaharlal Nehru as the first Prime Minister of India, felt the need to develop an independent economic system. To strengthen independence and make it more meaningful for the common man, the issue was hotly debated. The American and western experts termed the debate on independent economic system as a futile exercise. They argued that as India was divided into so many castes, religions, languages and regions it could not create a large, well organised market system. They believed that Indians were people with spiritual leanings who cared more for the world here after. And therefore, it was believed that these Indian common men had little interest in savings or profit making. They even quoted Shankaracharya, in their support whose teachings said, ‘O fools, wealth can never give you satisfaction. So renounce all desires. Be wise and contented and happy with your lot.’

In this way the western masters did all they could to dissuade India from modern industrialisation. But JL Nehru and the subsequent PM Smt. Indira Gandhi never felt discouraged and made concerted efforts to develop an independent economy and achieved unprecedented success in this direction.

Surprisingly enough, these advisors have appeared again, this time in the form of institutional system like World Bank. They claim that lack of Social Capital is at the root of growing socio-economic disparity, corruption and rising crimes in the country. Therefore,India should desist from opposing international economic system (as witnessed inCancun) and make an all-out effort to create Social Capital. Robert Putnam, Francis Fukuyama and World Bank worked as Think Tank behind this campaign. Putnam was the chief exponent of the modern concept of Social Capital. He discussed this concept in detail in his famous book, ‘Making Democracy Work: Civic traditions in Modern Italy’ published in1993. In his opinion ‘Social Capital’ is closely associated with the kind of social organization which is based on mutual trust and accepted standards of social conduct. These elements work as networks that develop the work culture of the society that pave the way for combined social efforts for economic progress and prosperity. In other words, ‘they create a social affinity that helps people work together and thereby increase production’.

Francis Fukuyama underlined the importance of ‘Social Capital’ in his book ‘Trust and the Great depression’. He further emphasised its role in his pamphlet ‘Social Capital and Civil society’, which he wrote for International Monetary Fund. According to Fukuyama Social Capital is essential for modern economy to function efficiently. No liberal democracy can function without it nor can modern culture survive without it.

World Bank considers Social Capital as the lost link of development. The concept of Social Capital with its inherent implications is not entirely new for India. Right form the ancient times people were instructed to work together. It has been the basis of joint family, caste-system, society and religion. Lord Buddha preached, ‘Sangham Sharanam Gachhami’. Today it is said that ‘strength lies in unity’ (‘Sanghe Shakti Kalyuge’ in modern times). The question is if we already know the importance of Social Capital, it means that there is nothing new in the concept. It is only old wine in a new bottle. Then what is the justification for launching such a great campaign again!

The reason is not far to seek. Western countries and their experts and their mouthpieces in the form of Organizations viz., International Monetary Fund and the world bank, nourished by them do not want that developing nations should see their economic backwardness and mismanagement in their historical perspective and take positive steps to redress them. Nor do they want that these nations should launch a crusade against the present unjust International economic system. These western powers want that the developing countries should follow their dictates, in every area of economic development, as modern day economic colonies. So, they try to convince the people of the developing Countries that they alone are responsible for their present miseries. If they stop fighting among themselves and create an atmosphere of mutual co-operation and trust they will progress with rapid speed.

It is useless to blame Capitalism and Imperialism. If land-lords and farm-workers, Capitalists and imperialists, forwards and backwards, developed and developing nations shun the path of confrontation and live amicably by creating mutual trust, the problems of poverty, exploitation and backwardness will be solved in due course. The spokesmen of the present concept of Social Capital strongly believe that in a country like India, the root and source of Social Capital still exist, but they can be revived not by Government machinery but by non governmental organizations. As the present political system has become utterly corrupt, these organizations should keep above politics while discharging their duties.

They are opposed even to Gram Panchayat and decentralisation because they are fully under the control of the Government. In this way, they want to keep all developmental work beyond the jurisdiction of the government. The supporters of Social Capital are in the favour of making all development work non-political. They have faith only in non-governmental organizations. But as we all know that these NGOs are not above controversy. Most of them are interested only in earning money by fair or foul means. They receive money from many donor agencies, which are not above suspicion themselves. The data collected by NGOs may be used by the foreign agencies against the government, which may go against our national interests. In short, these so called NGOs are not free from corruption. More over, the Social Capital generated by NGOs is not equally used for the benefit of every section of the society.

Today India needs all-round social, economic, political and cultural changes to create congenial conditions for development. This is a tremendous task which can be accomplished by political parties alone by using people’s power. This is because; the party in power is answerable to the people and the parliament. The NGOs which create Social Capital do not own any such responsibility. In India, NGOs like Ram Krishna Mission, Bharat Sevashrana, etc have been functioning for decades. They have done commendable work, but have never claimed that they can bring about comprehensive economic and political development. Today NGOs which are known for their integrity can not do more than providing temporary relief. However, permanent changes can be brought with a proactive partnership between the government and the civil societies. Therefore, it is wrong and even dangerous to think of development without government and political power.

In the end attention should also be drawn to the fact that some people want to encourage casteist, regional and communal organizations in the name of creating and developing Social Capital. It is a signal of danger which should be taken note of. If Brahmins form their organization to help their kinsmen and backward and schedule castes work on the same lines, it will aggravate only sectarian feelings. India, which is already divided on sectarian lines will break into fragments if programs of Social Capital are implemented with such narrow minded aims and ambitions.