Since 2016, he was the chairman of the PM’s Economic Advisory Council. The breadth of Debroy’s knowledge was matched only by its depth.
When Bibek Debroy died on November 1, this newspaper was among the many who felt bereft. From sparrows to spreadsheets, from the discontents of India’s arcane laws and bureaucracy to what makes a conducive environment for businesses and bees — the sheer breadth of Bibek Debroy’s expertise and interests were on display in his columns and articles in The Indian Express for over two decades. Unlike many economists and policy experts, Debroy had the ability to communicate what is esoteric with ease. He did so without sacrificing nuance and depth.
It is easy, in retrospect, to see that the liberalisation of the Indian economy in the 1990s was necessary and needed. At the time, however — and in some senses, even today — it went up against a governmentality that viewed the bureaucrat and the sarkar as the very visible hand guiding the economy. Debroy was among those who consistently argued for government to be rationalised, and urged reforms across sectors – law and judiciary, Railways and trade. He did so from within the system, in the Ministry of Finance, Department of Economic Affairs, NCAER and the Rajiv Gandhi Institute, for example, as well as from outside, in his stint at the Centre of Policy Research. Since 2016, he was the chairman of the PM’s Economic Advisory Council. The breadth of Debroy’s knowledge was matched only by its depth.
His abiding passion was the translation of classical Indian texts. The task was Herculean, more suited for an entire university department than an individual. Mastering Sanskrit, he introduced the world, afresh, to the Mahabharata, Puranas and Upanishads. This desire to revive a shared literary heritage was not accompanied by chauvinism or revanchist ideas, as is so often the case with similar endeavours today. In fact, despite having served under different political dispensations, Debroy remained above the fray. Days before he died, Debroy sent in his final column to this newspaper. He wrote about illness and mortality and what it means to be remembered. He wrote that with one exception, his would be “no permanent loss”. An instance of the columnist getting it wrong.
