How public is public policy?

Public policy is a strange creature. In my 25-plus years of working around it and inside it, I have seen it described as an art and a science; progressive and conservative; visionary and, at times, plainly impractical. It can be delivered from the top in a highly centralised way, or crafted painstakingly through long democratic negotiations. It solves problems, but also creates new ones.

Those contradictions are precisely what make public policy so fascinating — and so hard to get right.

In this article, I want to weave together my own journey in and around policy spaces with a few questions that, I believe, are worth asking in States across India today. I will not pretend to have simple answers. Instead, I offer a set of questions that have stayed with me- from the factory floor to national committees and global advocacy tables.

Four vantage points on policy

I began my career in a large textile company in Gujarat as their in-house economist and spokesperson on economic policy. My job looked simple on paper: generate evidence on how tariff, trade and industrial policies affected the textile sector; channel this through business associations like CII and FICCI; engage with government officials around the Union Budget; and explain how supportive policies could boost competitiveness, exports, innovation and GDP.

It was a relatively linear world. The “policymaker” seemed clearly visible: a ministry, a department, a Budget announcement.

My second vantage point came when I joined ICRIER, then a leading economic think tank in New Delhi. Suddenly, I was inside formal policy processes—as a member of expert groups and government committees contributing to the national textile policy, India’s positions in WTO negotiations, and industrial and trade policies. Evidence here meant rigorous research, economic modelling, working papers and policy briefs.

My third vantage point was very different. At Oxfam Great Britain’s headquarters in Oxford, I led global policy and advocacy. This role brought me closer to how a mature welfare state like the UK approached policy: strong emphasis on consultation, parliamentary accountability, public impact assessments and learning mechanisms.

At the same time, I saw how global shifts could weaken these institutions and how politics could influence what counted as “evidence”.

Finally, leading a South Asian think tank, and then working to support top think tanks across South Asia through the multi-donor, global Think Tank Initiative at International Development Research Centre (IDRC) of Canada, exposed me to the realities of policy making in varied contexts- from provincial capitals to national ministries, from health and education, to governance, science, technology and climate policies. Here, evidence came not just from models or “big data” but also from lived experience, field studies and voices from communities who rarely enter air-conditioned conference rooms, and often invisible, but not uncounted.

Across these four vantage points, some questions have stayed with me.

Question 1: Who is the policymaker?

We are trained to think of policy makers as ministers, secretaries and senior officials in Delhi or state capitals. Formally, that is true. But for most citizens, “policy” is experienced through the local official who processes your documents, the police personnel who manage traffic, or the frontline worker who delivers a scheme.

If the rule book is progressive but the last point of delivery is overburdened, under-resourced or fearful of making decisions, the citizen’s experience of policy is one of delay or denial. My early years in the private sector taught me that firms often see “government” as a single monolith. My later years in advocacy and research showed me that policy implementation is actually a long chain of people, incentives and institutions.

So, who is the real policy maker—the person who drafts the policy, or the person who decides how it will be applied in a specific case? Any serious conversation about public policy in India, including in states like Meghalaya, must keep this entire chain in mind.

Question 2: What matters more—policy design or implementation?

In India, we are rightly proud of many of our policies and flagship schemes. Our policy architecture, on paper, is often ambitious and forward-looking. Yet, we also hear a frequent lament: “Good policies, weak implementation.”

When I worked in the corporate sector, success was defined in clear metrics—investment, exports, profitability, and contribution to GDP. In think tanks, success meant a well-argued policy paper or a reference in a government document. In civil society, success often meant a visible change in people’s lives or a shift in public debate.

These different worlds taught me one thing: a beautifully crafted policy that does not translate into real change on the ground will inevitably breed cynicism. At the same time, frontline officials also work under constraints—limited staff, overlapping rules, and pressure from multiple directions.

The question, then, is not design versus implementation, but how to design with implementation in mind—from budget allocations and staffing patterns to grievance redress and feedback loops.

Question 3: “Show me the group, I will show you the rule”

Most of us have experienced situations where rules appear to be tailored to specific interests. In trade policy, this became evident to me when analysing complex tariff schedules and subsidy regimes: small changes in definitions could have large distributional effects across sectors and regions.

Over the years, whether in Delhi, London or provincial capitals, I have seen a recurring pattern: organised groups—industry bodies, professional associations, unions, large digital platforms—are often better positioned to articulate their interests and influence rules. Many others—informal workers, small farmers, micro-entrepreneurs, remote communities—struggle to get a hearing.

The challenge for democratic policymaking is to ensure that quieter voices are not drowned out by louder ones. This is where strong parliamentary processes, active media, credible research and a vibrant civil society can help restore balance.

Question 4: Do we have evidence-based policy or policy-based evidence?

Every government today speaks the language of “evidence-based policy”. This is a welcome development. But I have also seen, across multiple contexts, how we often end up with “policy-based evidence”—where the decision is taken first, and evidence is then selectively marshalled to justify it.

My time with research institutions in South Asia has made me appreciate how contested “evidence” can be. Statistical data, survey findings, satellite images, ethnographic studies, administrative records and citizen testimonies each tell a part of the story. In an age of misinformation, disinformation and deepfakes, even the most basic facts can be questioned.

So we must ask:

What counts as evidence?

Whose evidence matters?

How do we ensure that evidence from the field—in remote villages, small towns, and informal settlements—sits alongside big datasets in shaping decisions?

Think tanks, universities and practitioners all have a role here, but their credibility depends on independence, methodological rigour and a willingness to be challenged.

Question 5: How public is public policy?

Public policy, by definition, should be about the public and for the public. Yet, the spaces where policies are drafted, debated and evaluated often remain closed to many citizens.

In the UK, I saw strong traditions of public consultations, White Papers and parliamentary scrutiny. In India too, we have made important strides—online consultations, social audits in some programmes, citizen charters and RTI. Yet, there is still a long way to go to ensure that a citizen in Shillong, Tura or a remote village in Garo or Khasi Hills feels that public policy is something they can shape, not just endure.

For me, a simple principle captures the aspiration: “Nothing about us, without us.” Policies affecting farmers should systematically incorporate the lived experiences of farmers; policies on digital platforms should include gig workers and platform users; climate policies should engage communities most exposed to floods, landslides or drought.

Participation is not a box to be ticked; it is a source of better ideas and more legitimate decisions.

Question 6: Can policy escape disciplinary silos?

As an economist by training, I was socialised into thinking in terms of models, incentives and efficiency. Economics has long been called the “queen” of the social sciences, and public policy has often reflected that hierarchy.

Over time, working with colleagues in sociology, political science, law, anthropology and environmental studies, I realised how limiting this can be. No citizen lives their life inside a single discipline. Behavioural insights, political incentives, social norms, legal frameworks and ecological constraints all shape whether a policy will work.

Nobel laureate Daniel Kahneman famously questioned the assumption of the “rational economic man”. Real people are more complex—and so must be our policy analysis. For a state like Meghalaya, with its rich cultural diversity, complex land tenure systems and fragile ecology, multi-disciplinary policy thinking is not a luxury; it is a necessity.

Looking ahead

From the boardroom of a textile firm to committees in Delhi, from advocacy corridors in Oxford to research networks across South Asia, one lesson stands out: policy ultimately is about people. It is about whose problems are seen as urgent, whose knowledge counts as evidence, whose voices are heard, and who is trusted to implement decisions.

We live in an age where the day after the Union Budget, everyone becomes an economist; after a pandemic outbreak, everyone becomes a public health expert; after a bridge collapse, everyone turns into a civil engineer—at least on social media.

This noisy public sphere is a challenge, but also an opportunity. It reminds us that citizens care deeply about policy outcomes. The task before us is to channel that energy into informed, respectful and inclusive dialogue.

For students and practitioners of public policy in Meghalaya and across India, the invitation is clear:

• Look beyond formal documents to the everyday practices of implementation.
• Treat evidence as plural, contested and incomplete—but still indispensable.
• Create spaces where those most affected by policy have a real say in shaping it.
• Break disciplinary silos and bring diverse forms of knowledge to the table.

If we can do that, public policy will become a little less distant, a little more accountable, and a lot more genuinely “public”.

As one engaged with the policy ecosystem for most of my nearly three decades of professional career, I am often asked what policymaking is. And I mostly respond by saying that policymaking is the art of taking the blame- fully taking the blame for decisions taken, partially for decisions not taken, and often also for decisions policymakers have nothing to do with! But if ‘public’ begins to believe that decisions were informed and stakeholders’ voices were heard, they may still disagree with the decision, but that recognition itself will be a big step towards the gold standard in policymaking.