It promised speed, strength, efficiency and prosperity. It was sold not as governance but as a brand. And like every successful brand, it relied less on substance and more on storytelling.
At the centre of this narrative stood Narendra Modi, projected not merely
as a political leader but as a corporate style reformer who had supposedly
transformed Gujarat into an economic powerhouse. The messaging was relentless.
Gujarat was not just growing, it was leading. Not just developing, but
redefining development itself.
But every powerful narrative hides its omissions.
The Gujarat Model, amplified through media campaigns, political speeches
and social media ecosystems, was less a complete picture and more a curated
projection. It was repeated so often that it became accepted as truth. It
travelled faster than facts, and deeper than scrutiny.
Let us begin with a blunt truth. There is no singular Gujarat Model.
What exists instead is a deeply rooted culture of enterprise. Gujarat has
historically produced traders, industrialists and risk takers who invest
aggressively, diversify quickly and adapt faster than most. This culture
predates any one government. It has existed since Independence, shaped by
geography, diaspora networks and community driven capital.
Growth in Gujarat did not begin with a slogan. It was already in motion.
To convert this long standing economic character into a political
achievement is not just exaggeration. It is appropriation. Governments may have
facilitated, but they did not create this instinct.
Yet the narrative claimed ownership.
Yes, Gujarat saw industrial expansion. Yes, it improved infrastructure.
Yes, it attracted investment. But these developments were not unique enough to
justify the myth that was built around them. Other states recorded comparable,
and in some cases higher, growth rates during similar periods. Some states
outperformed Gujarat in industrial growth spurts. Others ranked higher in per
capita income. Several generated more employment from investment commitments.
But the difference was not performance. It was projection.
The Gujarat Model succeeded where it mattered most in modern politics. It
controlled perception.
Economic growth became the headline, but the composition of that growth was
rarely examined. A large portion of expansion was driven by corporate
investment, incentivised through land access, regulatory flexibility and
business friendly policies. This created rapid visible gains, but also
concentrated benefits.
And concentration is not development. It is distribution with bias.
The assumption was that growth would trickle down. That prosperity at the
top would eventually reach the bottom. But this assumption has historically
failed across contexts, and Gujarat was no exception.
Social indicators told a quieter, less flattering story.
Public spending on health and education remained relatively modest compared
to better performing states. Government schools struggled with quality and
staffing. Healthcare infrastructure showed clear urban concentration, leaving
rural areas dependent on inadequate systems or expensive private alternatives.
Malnutrition, particularly among women and children, persisted despite economic
growth.
These are not peripheral concerns. They are the foundation of any
meaningful development.
A state cannot claim success if its children are undernourished, its
schools underperforming and its healthcare inaccessible to the vulnerable.
And yet, these realities were overshadowed by a louder narrative.
Inequality widened, though rarely acknowledged. Urban centres like
Ahmedabad and Surat became symbols of progress, while tribal regions and rural
interiors continued to lag behind. Migration increased, often not as
opportunity, but as necessity.
Development was visible. Inclusion was uneven.
Even in terms of governance metrics, the claim of being the best governed
state does not withstand close scrutiny. Economic expansion did occur, but the
rate of acceleration compared to earlier periods was not as dramatic as
projected. Gains existed, but they were incremental rather than
transformational. Meanwhile, in areas like human development, poverty reduction
and social welfare outcomes, Gujarat did not consistently lead.
This is not failure. But it is certainly not exceptionalism.
The concept of Economic Freedom was frequently used to legitimise this
model. But stripped of ideological packaging, it essentially measures how
little the state interferes in markets. It rewards environments where capital
operates with minimal restriction. While this may encourage investment, it does
not automatically ensure justice, equity or welfare.
A government is not judged merely by how freely businesses operate. It is
judged by how fairly citizens live.
Reducing governance to market friendliness is like judging a school by its
building, not its students.
And this is where the Gujarat Model reveals its philosophical limitation.
It prioritised ease of doing business over ease of living for all.
When Narendra Modi moved to the national stage, this narrative expanded.
The model was presented as a blueprint for India. But along with it came a
noticeable pattern. Large scale projects, investments and symbolic initiatives
appeared disproportionately concentrated in Gujarat.
The home state became a preferred destination for ambition.
This raises an uncomfortable question. In a federal structure, can
development afford regional preference? When central power begins to favour
familiarity, balance begins to suffer. States that require support risk being
sidelined, while politically aligned regions accelerate.
Development then becomes uneven by design.
And then comes the question of governance style.
The Gujarat Model is often associated with decisiveness. But decisiveness,
when unchecked, can drift into centralisation. Decision making becomes
concentrated. Institutions appear less independent. Public debate narrows.
Dissent becomes inconvenient rather than valuable.
Democracy does not collapse overnight. It erodes gradually.
A system may retain its structure while losing its spirit.
Satire becomes inevitable in such a scenario. A model that celebrates
freedom becomes uncomfortable with disagreement. A model that promises
empowerment centralises authority. A model that speaks of development reduces
conversation to applause.
It is governance as spectacle.
To be clear, Gujarat has not performed poorly. It has achieved growth,
built infrastructure and maintained economic momentum. But to elevate it as the
definitive model of governance is to stretch reality beyond recognition.
It is not a miracle. It is not a template. It is a case study with
strengths and significant limitations.
The myth lies not in what Gujarat did, but in what was claimed about it.
The Gujarat Model, as marketed across India, was a narrative crafted with
precision. It simplified complexity, amplified success and muted contradiction.
It converted a state’s economic character into a leader’s political
achievement. It replaced nuance with certainty.
And certainty is seductive.
But governance cannot be built on seduction. It must be built on substance.
India does not need a model that performs for headlines. It needs a model
that performs for people. A model that balances growth with equity, efficiency
with accountability, ambition with inclusion.
Because development is not what is announced from podiums.
It is what is experienced in homes, schools, hospitals and workplaces.
And no narrative, however
powerful, can permanently substitute lived reality.
Siddhartha Shankar Mishra
is an advocate at the Supreme Court of India and a commentator on law, politics
and society. His writings blend legal insight with social critique and aim to
provoke reflection on power, justice and public conscience.
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