“We Don’t Want Cash Transfers”

Enabled through digital identity systems, cash transfers are seen as a route to “development” which improves on subsidies. Our field stories from Karnataka, southern India, dispute this view, illuminating the concern of subsidy recipients for a possible transition to cash.

“Not at all”. Adeela, in the periphery of Bengaluru where we meet her, a long-term user of the country’s Public Distribution System (PDS), is adamant in her response to our question. We asked her whether, in the place of the subsidised food rations she receives under the PDS, India’s largest food security programme, she would prefer receiving a cash transfer of the same value. If functioning properly, such a transfer would allow her to buy foodgrains, sugar and other goods in regular shops, avoiding long queues at the local ration shop and the risk to have her households’ rations partially, or even completely, diverted to the private market.

It’s April 2018. Cash transfers – conceived as transfers to bank accounts made for below-poverty-line recipients, designed to afford the same protection of in-kind subsidies – are being trumpeted as a solution to the issues of the PDS, India’s food security system that heavily subsidises basic-need commodities for the poor. The PDS is India’s largest food security system, build to provide rationed quotas of essential goods, whose content varies across states, at heavily subsidised prices. Highly successful in the early phases of its existence, with a foodgrain trade increased from 10 to over 18 million tons in 1965-1990, the PDS has been later criticised for an urban bias and for presumed leakage to the non-poor, due to the universal nature that the system originally held.

Such concerns led India’s central government, in June 1997, to move to a targeted system where subsidy is directed to households classified as below the poverty line (BPL). In a targeted system, leakage to non-poor households should be eliminated by design, with subsidy restricted to households classified as below state-level poverty lines. The measure was taken with in mind the idea to protect access to the PDS for the truly needful: and still, it generated the strong incentive for PDS agents to divert subsidised goods to private markets, so to benefit from the large price surplus available on them.

PDS allocations across categories of recipients, Karnataka, August 2014

Basic economic principles tell us that “cash transfers are better” for the overall economy than subsidies. Said in sheer economic terms, they eliminate distortion, i.e. the alteration in optimal market conditions caused by the intervention of the state. It is argued, along the same line, that “leakages seriously undermine the effectiveness of product subsidies”, because incentives to divert goods to the market ultimately lead to scarcity of goods remaining available to entitled beneficiaries. This is why, in conversation with PDS recipients, frustration is common: at the moment of collecting the monthly ration, the seller may just say “everything’s been sold”, with goods gone to market rather than to actual needful recipients.

Much debate exists on where the main problem of food distribution lies, whether in leakage or, effectively, in inaccurate determination of poverty status, resulting in needful households becoming unable to claim benefits accorded to them under social protection schemes. But whatever position is taken in such a debate, a common note remains: what counts, for recipients at the interface between recognition technologies and the goods they are entitled to, is their effective ability to access their entitlements. This is not to say that inclusion errors, which cause non-entitled people to be erroneously supplied services, are not problematic. But it is to say that exclusion errors, where genuinely entitled people do not receive their entitlements, persist with digital identification, which per se does not involve mechanisms to ensure access to basic-need goods where authentication fails.

But would cash transfers, then, not solve it all?

Let’s get into the argument that India’s Economic Survey made in 2016. In a chapter programmatically titled “Wiping Every Tear from Every Eye: the JAM Number Trinity Solution”, the Ministry of Finance sustained the point that, replacing the PDS with a proper cash transfer system, the distortion induced by subsidies would be eliminated. Such a cash transfer system would rely on three major pillars: a zero-balance bank account programme for all – became known as Jan Dhan Yojana, literally “bank account for the people”; the national digital identification system named Aadhaar; and mobile phones, through which bank transactions could be approved and received. Acronymised as JAM – Jan Dhan Yojana, Aadhaar and mobile phones, the basis of the proposed cash transfer infrastructure would do away with the leakage caused by subsidies, erasing the diversion to the private market that characterised the PDS.

But Adeela’s reaction to the cash transfer perspective is a firm “no”. Echoed by the large majority of respondents we interviewed on this matter.

And there is an overarching reason for that. Subsidised rations are, indeed, not always of the expected amount. And can be delayed, diverted, even skip a month or more. But our respondents depict them as a material reality on their tables. It is the ration that people are used to, it is the ration that, differently from a money transfer perceived as risky and uncertain, brings essential goods to the table of below-poverty-line families since decades. And this, not to mention the intra-familial dynamics that enter the cash transfer distribution, as a respondent told us in a district neighbouring Bengaluru: “At least if we get ration, we have something in the house to eat”.

Not only does Adeela say no. But she is scared by the perspective of a shift that would dismantle the PDS in favour of cash transfers. For as much as economic principles can hold in theory, they need to come to terms with the reality lived by people for whom that ration, that materiality of food on the table, is everything that counts. A materiality that a cash transfer system, it is perceived (in a context of uncertain access to banking transactions), would tear to pieces.

In its guise as India’s Aadhaar, digital identity is a direct route for transition from the “suboptimal” subsidy system to the “optimal” alternative constituted by cash transfers. But the optimality of that alternative ends when talking to its very intended recipients. If it is to transform development policy, which it is doing with its entrenchment in food security systems like the PDS, digital identity needs to find safe, rather than feared, ways to do so.

What’s in a card?

Biometric technologies, increasingly inscribed in social protection programmes, crystallise the role of identification as a precondition for users to access vital entitlements. Such a role has, however, an overarching history of non-digital artefacts behind its consolidation.

“For the third time, I have not received my ration card”. Aisha is in her early 50s and lives in the slum colony of Karimadom, at the periphery of Thiruvananthapuram, capital of the southern Indian state of Kerala. In telling her story, she does not show anger or resentment. She is only tired, extenuated by a wait that has protracted for months and that still denies her access to the Public Distribution System (PDS), India’s food security scheme on which millions of households depend for subsistence. The PDS provides essential commodities – primarily rice, wheat, sugar and kerosene, with more supplies varying across states – to below-poverty-line households at highly subsidised prices. But in July 2010, the state of Kerala registered a backlog of over six lakh (600 thousand) ration cards stuck between user application and release, essentially preventing an equal number of households from accessing a vital anti-poverty programme.

Now, in August 2012, Aisha needs her ration card. For beneficiaries of the PDS, obtaining food rations is conditional to being recognised as entitled users, in virtue of a targeted system where the ration card – on which a stamp is put by the ration seller every month at collection point – determines entitlement. Ration cards in Kerala have different colours according to poverty status: they are blue for above-poverty-line (APL) recipients, pink for below-poverty-line (BPL), and yellow for Antyodaya Anna Yojana (AAY), the poorest of the poor who are entitled to greater quantities of subsidised goods. For the third time, Aisha spent the day queueing by the local Taluk Supply Office, the bureau where ration cards are dispensed, hoping in vain to collect a document which appears to be stuck, with many others, in the burgeoning backlog for which the Kerala Rationing Officer responds.

Food supplies, Taliparamba municipality, Kerala, November 2011

The PDS is India’s largest food security programme. Its origins lie in the rationing system introduced in colonial Bombay in 1939, at a time of low production of foodgrains per capita and high reliance on imports. In 1965 it took its current form as a subsidy system in which essential goods are procured by the Food Corporation of India (FCI) and redistributed across the country’s 29 states and 7 special territories, through ration shops which disburse monthly quotas of subsidised items. From 1997, the programme is targeted (with the one exception of the state Tamil Nadu) to users below the poverty line, with special provisions of larger rations made for households qualifying as AAY, the poorest of the poor.

Ration cards are no digital object. Rather than the document itself, in 2010-2011 the government of Kerala digitised the Ration Card Management System (RCMS), a workflow management programme instituted by the Ministry of Food and Civil Supplies. In its essence RCMS was an e-governance solution to computerise the main phases of the ration card release process: application by the user; processing by staff at the TSO; and delivery of the document to the user on TSO premises. Digitising the ration card flow would help process applications more smoothly and effectively, as the Rationing Officer bureau staff discussed with me in December 2010. While narratives of repeated frustration at the TSO, like Aisha’s, abounded in the press at the time, the logic of “digitisation for development” resounded strongly and enthusiastically in officials’ voices.

Fast forward to 2022. Biometric identification, which in the Kerala PDS takes the form of Aadhaar, is increasingly required for users to claim entitlements under the PDS. Launched in 2009, Aadhaar is the flagship programme of digital identity for India’s residents: its free-of-charge enrolment captures essential biometrics (fingerprints and iris scan data) and basic descriptors of enrolees, who are in turn enabled to use these to authenticate for governmental schemes and services. In their very architecture, Kerala’s ration shops changed significantly from the pre-Aadhaar days: while authentication was initially ration-card based, it is now a biometric point-of-sale machine that recognises the user, matches their credentials with their entitlements as registered by the Ministry of Food and Civil Supplies, and disburses rations if successful authentication occurs.

While Aadhaar is largely hailed as overarching model of foundational identity, the use of digital identity as a precondition for entitlements – subordinating service access authorisation to authentication of users – is by no means unique. Evidence on digital identity’s role as an enabler of entitlements is wide: during COVID-19 in Colombia the Ingreso Solidario scheme featured data cross-checking from different government databases, with the apparent purpose of identifying needy households. Information was combined from existing digital data repositories, with little explanation on how decisions were made: in a similar trend, Peru saw the handling of information by the programmes Yo Me Quedo en Casa and Bono Indipendiente as partially obscure, with ‘incertitude being the rule on the determinants of entitlement assignation.

Much discussion is on how digital technology carries responsibility for the exclusions, distortions of monitoring and policy redirection connected to biometric identification. Evolving along these lines, the discussion takes me back to the early days of my Kerala fieldwork: the ration card itself, of which the Aadhaar-based PDS constitutes an augmentation, remains a starkly non-digital artefact, with an inner physical architecture as a booklet with a set of empty spaces for monthly food stamps. The role of identification as a precondition for entitlements is very alive today: as Joseph Atick, the Executive Chairman of ID for Africa, recently noted in a public address, the importance of ID has shifted from being based on identity alone to identification-enabled service provision. Much can and needs to be said about what digital identity systems do to the ability, of lack thereof, of people to access life-saving entitlements; at the same time, the very non-digital roots of the targeting principles inscribed in such technologies need thorough illumination.

It’s 2022, and I just came across this little one from 2012. At the time, my research on Kerala’s Ration Card Management system was met with surprise – most people were puzzled meeting a young PhD student asking questions on that complex ration card workflow, and many offered encouragement to switch to a topic on which “more data” would be available. If back then the question on “what’s in a card” remained very open, the work of colleagues in the digital identity space now offers a much clearer picture of the design behind such a role. While digital identity is capable of massive reifications, the materiality of the authorisation-conditional-to-authentication principle offers illuminating explanations on what digital technology really effects in the identification space.

About me:

My name is Silvia and I am an information systems researcher with a huge passion for fieldwork, technology and, most of all, human rights. I work as Associate Professor at the University of Oslo. Unfair ID is my book project, and at heart, it a life journey inside the injustices produces by digital identity systems.