Joining the Dots: When Ideology Pulled the Trigger on Gandhi

 

Joining the Dots: When Ideology Pulled the Trigger on Gandhi

On January 30, 1948, Mahatma Gandhi was shot dead at Birla House. The assassin was Nathuram Godse. But assassinations are never solitary acts. They are the final outcome of a long process — of ideological grooming, public incitement, moral sanction, and social rehearsal. Bullets may end a life, but ideas prepare the ground.

Gandhi was not merely murdered. He was systematically silenced.

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Savarkar: The Blessing Before the Bullets

Any serious examination of Gandhi’s assassination collapses if Vinayak Damodar Savarkar is airbrushed out. The most incriminating evidence pointing to Savarkar’s role came not from conjecture, but from sworn testimony during the trial.

Digambar Badge, an arms dealer and close associate of Nathuram Godse and Narayan Apte, turned approver in the case. His statement is part of the court record and is reproduced in detail in Tushar Gandhi’s Let’s Kill Gandhi: A Chronicle of His Last Days, the Conspiracy, Murder, Investigation and Trial.

Badge testified that on January 17, 1948, barely thirteen days before the assassination, Godse suggested that the conspirators take a final darshan of “Tatyarao” Savarkar. They went to Savarkar Sadan in Bombay. Godse and Apte went upstairs, returned after five to ten minutes, and were followed by Savarkar himself, who blessed them with the words:

“Yashasvi houn ya” — Be successful and return.

In Maharashtrian cultural context, such words are not casual pleasantries. They are uttered before acts of consequence — journeys, battles, or decisive missions. Badge stated that he regarded Savarkar as a devta until the end of his life. That reverence makes his testimony harder, not easier, to dismiss.

Savarkar was acquitted due to lack of corroborative evidence. But acquittal is not moral exoneration. Criminal law demands proof beyond reasonable doubt. History asks a different question: why would assassins seek Savarkar’s blessing on the eve of murder, and why would he give it?

Savarkar did not need to issue instructions. His blessing functioned as moral sanction. It told the assassins that what they were about to do was not a crime, but a duty.

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An Ideology That Could Not Tolerate Gandhi

Savarkar’s Hindutva was fundamentally incompatible with Gandhi’s India. Gandhi believed the nation belonged equally to all its people. Savarkar believed it belonged primarily to those who fit a cultural and civilisational definition of Hindu identity. Gandhi saw non violence as moral strength. Savarkar dismissed it as weakness.

To extremist nationalists, Gandhi’s insistence on Hindu Muslim unity, his fasts to stop communal violence, and his demand that India honour its financial commitment to Pakistan were unforgivable. Gandhi was no longer a leader to be debated. He was an obstacle to be removed.

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Public Incitement: When Killing Became a Slogan

By January 1948, hostility towards Gandhi had spilled openly onto the streets of Delhi. Contemporary accounts record slogans such as “Gandhi ko marne do, humko ghar do” being shouted publicly. Gandhi’s fast further enraged extremist groups who saw his moral authority as a direct threat.

On January 20, 1948, Madanlal Pahwa attempted to assassinate Gandhi with a bomb. He failed. Ten days later, Nathuram Godse succeeded.

Even before the murder, Gandhi’s death was being publicly rehearsed.

At Connaught Circus, about four kilometres from Birla House, a group of RSS men in khaki shorts, white shirts, and black caps were seen exercising vigorously and shouting slogans at the top of their voices:

“Buddhe ko marne do” — let the old man die.

The idea of Gandhi’s death had already been normalised.

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RSS and the Sewak Reports: Preparing the Ground

The Sewak Reports — declassified intelligence files submitted to the court — contain transcripts of speeches made by MS Golwalkar, then Sarsanghchalak of the RSS. In early December 1947, Golwalkar addressed over 2,500 RSS volunteers in Delhi.

According to the report, Golwalkar said:

“The law cannot meet force. We should be prepared for guerrilla warfare on the lines of the tactics of Shivaji. The Sangh will not rest content until it has finished Pakistan. If anyone stands in our way, we will have to finish him too, whether it is the Nehru Government or any other government.”

And more directly:

“No power on earth can keep Muslims in Hindustan. Gandhi wants to keep them for Congress votes. But by the time elections come, not a single Muslim will be left here.”

These were not abstract speeches. They articulated the ideological logic of silencing Gandhi.

Days later, Gandhi was silenced.

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The Weapon and the Act

On the evening of January 30, 1948, Nathuram Godse fired three bullets from a Beretta Model 1934 semi automatic pistol, an Italian made handgun, at point blank range. Gandhi collapsed.

Godse did not flee. He did not deny. He believed he had performed a necessary deed.

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Celebration After the Murder

India mourned. But not everyone.

Investigative records and witness testimonies reveal that sweets were distributed in certain Hindu Mahasabha circles after news of Gandhi’s assassination spread. In Gwalior, a Hindu Mahasabha leader distributed sweets to party members and asked them to tune in to the radio that evening. After Gandhi was shot, sweets were again purchased and distributed among friends and family.

One individual described the killing as “a good deed,” stating that an opponent of Hindu religion had been eliminated and Hinduism would now be safe. Gandhi was referred to as an “avatar of Aurangzeb.”

Another witness recalled hearing it said openly:

“Gandhiji ko marne wala apna aadmi tha.”
The man who killed Gandhi was one of ours.

This was not madness. It was ideological approval.

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Godse Was Not a Loner

Godse was not an outsider. He had been associated with the RSS, worked with the Hindu Mahasabha, and revered Savarkar as his guru. His newspaper Agrani reflected deep resentment against Gandhi and Muslims.

The claim that Godse had left the RSS before the assassination collapses under scrutiny.

On November 15, 1949, as he walked to the gallows, Godse recited the RSS prayer “Namaste Sada Vatsale Matrubhoome.” Even in death, he reaffirmed ideological belonging.

Years later, his brother Gopal Godse stated in an interview that they had never truly left the RSS and that it was like a family to them.

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Golwalkar After the Assassination

Within twenty four hours of the murder, public opinion swung sharply against extremist groups. The Hindu Rashtra project collapsed overnight. Golwalkar rushed to salvage the organisation.

On February 1, 1948, he issued a statement invoking love and service, directing swayamsevaks to maintain harmony. This language stood in stark contrast to the venom directed at Gandhi weeks earlier, when he had been described as disloyal to Hindus and even threatened with being “silenced.”

The shift was tactical, not ideological.

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Conclusion: An Unfinished Reckoning

Savarkar supplied the justification.
Golwalkar supplied mobilisation.
The RSS shakha supplied discipline and fraternity.
The Hindu Mahasabha supplied political direction.
Godse supplied the bullets.

The bullet was Godse’s.
The blueprint was older.

Courts deal in proof. History deals in patterns. And the pattern behind Gandhi’s murder is unmistakable.

If Gandhi’s death is to mean anything, it must compel us to confront uncomfortable truths — not with garlands or slogans, but with honesty.

Because bullets may kill a man once. Ideologies that justify them can kill a nation repeatedly.

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About the Author

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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References

1.    Appu Esthose Suresh & Priyanka Kotamraju, The Murderer, the Monarch and the Fakir, Juggernaut

2.    Tushar Gandhi, Let’s Kill Gandhi, Rupa

3.    Dhirendra K. Jha, Gandhi’s Assassin: The Making of Nathuram Godse, Penguin

4.    Justice J.L. Kapur Commission Report

5.    Sewak Reports, Intelligence Bureau Records

6.    A.G. Noorani, Savarkar and Hindutva, LeftWord

7.    Christophe Jaffrelot, The Hindu Nationalist Movement and Indian Politics, Penguin

8.    Ramachandra Guha, India After Gandhi, HarperCollins

9.    Frontline magazine, interview with Gopal Godse

10. Gandhi Murder Trial records identifying the weapon as a Beretta Model 1934 pistol

Disclaimer: This piece is a historical analysis based on court records, commission reports, and established scholarship. Views expressed are the author’s interpretation of documented events and are intended solely for public understanding.

UGC Equity Regulations Between Justice and Political Optics

 

 

UGC Equity Regulations Between Justice and Political Optics

The UGC Promotion of Equity in Higher Education Institutions Regulations 2026 have triggered intense debate across campuses and social media. Supporters describe them as long overdue protection against caste based discrimination. Critics see them as another instrument of political signalling without structural reform. To understand this controversy, one must separate three distinct questions. First, does caste discrimination in higher education exist. Second, are these regulations legally and constitutionally sound. Third, are they being used as a substitute for real investment in public education while serving political narratives.

The Context of Rohith Vemula and Institutional Failure

No serious discussion on campus discrimination can avoid the Rohith Vemula case. Rohith was not merely a student who died by suicide. His death exposed how institutional apathy, administrative targeting and political pressure can combine to crush dissenting students from vulnerable backgrounds. Similar concerns arose in the Payal Tadvi case in medical education, where harassment and isolation preceded tragedy. These incidents are not isolated emotional stories. They are indicators of systemic failures in grievance redressal, mentoring and campus accountability.

After these cases, courts, parliamentary committees and civil society repeatedly asked universities and regulators to create functional and sensitive mechanisms. The earlier UGC guidelines of 2012 asked institutions to set up grievance cells, but they were advisory and largely ignored. Many universities either created paper committees or merged them with unrelated offices. Complaints remained unresolved and administrators faced no consequences.

From this perspective, the shift from advisory guidelines to binding regulations in 2026 is not arbitrary. It is an attempt to give teeth to constitutional obligations under Articles 15 and 46, which mandate special protection for socially and educationally backward classes. In principle, this move is constitutionally legitimate and socially necessary.

What the New Regulations Change

The 2026 regulations make Equal Opportunity Centres mandatory, fix responsibility on heads of institutions, prescribe reporting mechanisms and allow UGC to impose penalties including withdrawal of grants and even recognition. Discrimination is defined broadly to include not only overt acts but also institutional practices that produce unequal outcomes.

This is a significant change in regulatory philosophy. Earlier, the burden was moral. Now, it is legal and financial. Institutions that fail to act risk losing funding and legitimacy.

Supporters argue that without enforceable consequences, universities have no incentive to reform entrenched power structures. From this angle, the regulations move social justice from sympathy to obligation.

Legal and Constitutional Concerns

However, constitutional law does not operate only on objectives. It also operates on procedure, proportionality and equality before law.

Article 14 guarantees equality before law and protection of due process. Welfare regulation cannot justify abandonment of natural justice. Critics point out that the regulations do not clearly provide safeguards against false or malicious complaints, independent inquiry structures or proportional disciplinary processes. While the intent is to protect vulnerable students, absence of procedural clarity exposes the system to legal challenges.

Courts in India have consistently held that even protective laws must not violate principles of fairness. Laws dealing with sexual harassment, domestic violence and child protection have faced judicial scrutiny when misused or when procedural safeguards were weak. The concern is not that most complaints are false, but that law must be robust enough to handle both genuine victims and wrongful accusations.

In constitutional terms, a framework that punishes institutions or individuals without transparent inquiry standards risks failing the test of proportionality. If penalties are severe but investigative capacity is weak, enforcement becomes arbitrary. That weakens both justice and legitimacy.

There is also the issue of institutional autonomy. Education is in the Concurrent List. Universities are expected to enjoy academic self governance. Excessive regulatory micromanagement can conflict with principles of federalism and university autonomy, especially when enforcement is linked to funding control.

The Misuse Debate and Public Trust

Indian society has seen how protective laws can become politically polarised. Debates around misuse of provisions in POCSO, domestic violence laws and matrimonial litigation have deeply shaped public perceptions of legal frameworks. While these laws are essential and protect millions, allegations of misuse, selective enforcement and long litigation have also generated fear and resentment.

When new campus regulations arrive without visible procedural safeguards, similar anxieties emerge. Students and faculty worry not only about discrimination but also about reputational damage, suspension and career consequences before full inquiry. In competitive academic environments, even allegations can permanently affect prospects.

This is where legal design becomes critical. Social justice cannot survive if public trust collapses. Law must protect victims without creating parallel injustice.

The Bigger Hypocrisy of Policy Without Investment

The sharpest criticism of the Education Ministry and UGC is not about intent, but about inconsistency.

Universities today face massive faculty shortages. Research fellowships are delayed. Hostels are overcrowded. Mental health services are minimal. Contractualisation of teaching staff has increased insecurity and weakened mentoring relationships. These structural issues are directly linked to student distress and isolation.

Yet, while financial support shrinks, regulatory surveillance expands. More portals, more compliance formats, more inspections, more reporting deadlines. Equity is monitored through spreadsheets while campuses struggle with infrastructure.

This creates a serious constitutional contradiction. The State cannot first weaken institutions through budget cuts and then punish them for social failures produced by that very neglect. Administrative law demands that regulators also ensure capacity building, not only enforcement.

Equity cannot be achieved by committees alone. It requires scholarships on time, faculty availability, academic freedom and support systems. Without these, regulatory pressure becomes symbolic control rather than meaningful reform.

Political Narratives and Vote Bank Framing

The political dimension cannot be ignored. For BJP and RSS aligned discourse, the debate is framed carefully. On one side, strong rhetoric against caste discrimination is used to project moral legitimacy. On the other, campus unrest is portrayed as evidence of excessive appeasement politics.

This dual narrative allows the ruling ecosystem to occupy both moral positions. Defender of social justice when needed and critic of identity politics when useful. Meanwhile, budgetary responsibility and administrative accountability remain absent from public discussion.

When students are encouraged to see each other as beneficiaries or victims of policy, attention shifts away from the failures of governance. Social conflict becomes a convenient substitute for policy accountability.

This is not accidental. Political systems often prefer cultural debates over budget debates because identity divides emotions, while financial questions expose power.

Weighing the Pros and Cons

Pros:
The regulations acknowledge historical injustice.
They impose institutional responsibility.
They move beyond symbolic guidelines.
They expand coverage to OBCs, persons with disabilities and faculty.
They align with constitutional duties of social justice.

Cons:
Procedural safeguards are unclear.
Risk of misuse and reputational harm exists.
Institutional capacity is inadequate.
Autonomy concerns remain unresolved.
Enforcement is not matched by funding.

Conclusion

The UGC Equity Regulations arise from real suffering and genuine constitutional concern. They are not illegitimate in purpose. But they are deeply flawed in design and dangerously disconnected from material realities of higher education.

Law alone cannot compensate for administrative neglect. Social justice without funding becomes surveillance. Protection without due process becomes coercion. And regulation without institutional capacity becomes theatre.

If the State is serious about equity, it must invest in universities, fill faculty posts, ensure timely scholarships and build strong counselling systems. Without that, regulations risk becoming another courtroom battle and another political slogan, not a solution for vulnerable students.

Justice requires law, but it also requires resources and sincerity. Without all three, equity becomes a talking point, not a transformation.

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Author’s Introduction

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.

Subhas Chandra Bose: Beyond Icons, Beyond Appropriation

 

 

Subhas Chandra Bose: Beyond Icons, Beyond Appropriation

Subhas Chandra Bose remains one of the most powerful and complex figures of Indias freedom struggle. He is often reduced to slogans, military uniforms and dramatic images of armed resistance. Yet Bose was far more than a rebel commander or a romantic nationalist. He was a deeply intellectual political thinker, a disciplined organiser, a spiritual seeker and a nationalist who believed that freedom was not only about ending colonial rule but also about building a socially just nation.

Bose was shaped by both Indian spiritual traditions and Western political thought. He was influenced by Vedanta, the Bhagavad Gita, Sri Ramakrishna and Swami Vivekananda. From them he drew the idea of self sacrifice and fearless action. At the same time he was influenced by European socialism and anti imperial movements. This blend made him unique. He did not see spirituality and politics as separate worlds. For him inner discipline was necessary for public courage.

Politically Bose was a radical nationalist who believed that constitutional methods and slow negotiations would not be enough to break the British empire. While he respected Mahatma Gandhi deeply and always addressed him as the Father of the Nation, he fundamentally disagreed with the idea that nonviolence alone could defeat an armed colonial power. Bose believed that Britain’s global crisis during the Second World War created a historic opening that should not be wasted.

This ideological difference became politically visible in 1939 when Bose, as Congress President, contested and won the election against Pattabhi Sitaramayya, the candidate preferred by Gandhis circle. After the result, Gandhi remarked that Pattabhi’s defeat was his own defeat. This statement is often misused today to suggest personal hostility toward Bose. In reality, Gandhi was acknowledging that his political line had been rejected by the party, not that Bose lacked legitimacy as a nationalist. The conflict that followed was not about patriotism but about strategy, timing and leadership style.

Gandhi and the senior Congress leadership believed that organisational unity and mass nonviolent mobilisation were more important than radical confrontation. Bose believed delay would only strengthen colonial control. When Bose found that the Congress Working Committee would not cooperate with his agenda, he resigned from the presidency. Yet even after this rupture, neither side treated the other as an enemy. Bose continued to publicly revere Gandhi, and when he later formed the Indian National Army, he named one of its brigades the Gandhi Brigade, another the Nehru Brigade and another the Azad Brigade. This symbolic act shows that Bose saw the freedom struggle as a collective national project even when methods differed.

Boses relationship with religion is also frequently distorted in present narratives. He was personally religious and spiritually inclined but politically secular. He believed religion should build moral strength, not political identity. That is why he opposed both Hindu Mahasabha and Muslim League for injecting communal identity into nationalist politics. As Congress President he supported banning dual membership of Congress with communal organisations. For Bose, communal politics weakened the fight against colonialism and strengthened British divide and rule.

This also explains why claims of ideological proximity between Bose and organisations like the RSS do not withstand historical scrutiny. There is an anecdote that after resigning from Congress leadership, Bose explored contact with several groups and sent an emissary to seek a meeting with Hedgewar. The meeting did not take place. More importantly, RSS at that time followed a strategy of organisational consolidation without direct confrontation with British authority, while Bose was moving toward open confrontation and armed struggle. Strategically and ideologically they were on different paths.

Boses decision to seek foreign assistance during the Second World War remains controversial. He believed that an imperial power at war could be defeated only by force and that global conflict created an opportunity for colonial liberation. His alliance with Axis powers was tactical, not ideological. He did not endorse fascism as a political model for India. His vision for post independence India was socialist and democratic. Yet this path carried grave moral and political risks, which historians must honestly acknowledge even while recognising the desperation of a colonised people seeking freedom by any available means.

One of the most progressive aspects of Boses leadership was his approach to social equality. In the INA he promoted women into combat roles through the Rani of Jhansi Regiment, an extraordinary step for that era. He rejected caste distinctions and regional hierarchies within the army. His speeches repeatedly stressed that political freedom must be followed by economic justice, land reform and social dignity. For Bose, nationalism was incomplete without social transformation.

After independence, the mystery surrounding his death and the later surveillance of his family added political controversy to his legacy. Declassified files show that intelligence agencies monitored the Bose family for years. But these documents do not establish that any Prime Minister personally ordered such surveillance. The continuation of colonial intelligence structures into independent India produced institutional suspicion that cannot be reduced to individual motives. Unfortunately, this complex history is now simplified into personality driven blame narratives.

In contemporary politics Bose is often appropriated selectively. His militarism is highlighted, while his socialism and secularism are ignored. His criticism of communal politics is rarely mentioned. His respect for other national leaders is erased to construct artificial rivalries. This selective remembrance does not honour Bose. It reduces him to a political tool.

True respect for Bose lies in recognising his full complexity. He was courageous but not reckless. Radical but not sectarian. Spiritual but not communal. Disciplined but not authoritarian. He represents a nationalist tradition that was intellectually serious, socially conscious and ethically driven.

Bose ultimately forces us to confront an uncomfortable truth. Freedom struggles are not uniform. They contain disagreements, debates and competing strategies. Patriotism does not require uniform thinking. Dissent within a national movement is not betrayal but part of democratic political evolution.

In an age when history is increasingly converted into ideological ammunition, Bose remains difficult to appropriate completely. He does not fit neatly into present political categories. Perhaps that is his greatest relevance today. He reminds us that nationalism without justice becomes hollow, and spirituality without humanity becomes dangerous.

Subhas Chandra Bose does not belong to any party or ideology. He belongs to history, and history demands honesty more than hero worship.

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Author Introduction

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.

Educated, Enraged and Engineered: How Digital Politics Is Rewriting Our Minds and Our Laws

 

Educated, Enraged and Engineered: How Digital Politics Is Rewriting Our Minds and Our Laws

The Education Paradox in the Age of Smartphones

India once believed that education would gradually dissolve prejudice and expand moral imagination. The smartphone age has exposed a troubling paradox. The educated middle class today appears more vulnerable to online communal narratives than the poor who struggle daily for survival. This vulnerability is not accidental. It is psychological, social and carefully cultivated by political communication strategies that understand insecurity better than ideology.

Fear of Falling and the Search for Enemies

The poor remain trapped in the politics of material life. Their anger is directed at prices, wages, healthcare and housing. Their grievances are immediate and visible. The middle class, however, lives in a permanent fear of falling. Employment feels uncertain. Social status feels fragile. Cultural confidence feels threatened. In such an atmosphere, symbolic enemies become easier targets than complex economic structures. Communal identity offers emotional relief by converting anxiety into belonging and grievance into moral superiority.

Echo Chambers of Respectable Prejudice

Social media platforms intensify this psychology. Housing societies, professional groups and alumni networks become ideological echo chambers where opinions are rewarded with approval and aggression is mistaken for courage. Over time, political signalling becomes a social requirement. Silence begins to look suspicious. Nuance appears weak. Extremes become normal.

Degrees Without Critical Training

Education in India has largely remained technical rather than philosophical. It trains people to perform tasks but rarely to question narratives or examine emotional manipulation. This creates a class that is confident in vocabulary but fragile in judgement. Polished propaganda dressed as historical fact and strategic realism circulates easily among people who feel informed but are rarely challenged to reflect on their own assumptions.

Why the Poor Remain Outside Digital Culture Wars

The poor, lacking constant access to ideological performance spaces, remain less invested in symbolic wars. Their anger is local and personal. The middle class anger becomes abstract and ideological, easily redirected toward distant communities and imagined threats. Political campaigns understand this difference well. They offer civilisational pride instead of policy answers, emotional unity instead of economic accountability. In doing so, they transform social anxiety into ideological mobilisation.

Algorithms That Reward Anger Over Accuracy

Misinformation thrives because digital platforms are not designed to reward truth. They are designed to reward engagement. Fear and anger generate more clicks than calm explanation. A lie can be dramatic, simple and emotionally satisfying. A correction must be cautious, complex and patient. In a culture trained to scroll, outrage always wins.

Custom Made Realities and Manufactured Loyalty

Algorithms amplify what keeps users emotionally involved. Once a person interacts with sensational content, similar narratives are pushed repeatedly. Gradually, people are surrounded by confirming messages. Reality becomes customised. Dissent appears dangerous. Skepticism looks like betrayal.

Belonging Becomes More Important Than Being Right

Political actors exploit this architecture deliberately. Instead of debating governance, they circulate identity driven stories that activate instinctive loyalty. Even when these stories are later disproved, the emotional impression remains. People remember how the message made them feel, not whether it was accurate. Sharing such content brings social approval. Correcting it brings hostility. Over time, truth becomes socially expensive.

From Digital Rage to Institutional Pressure

This cycle of outrage does not remain limited to screens. It enters police stations, courtrooms and legislative discourse. Law in a constitutional democracy is meant to operate through evidence, procedure and restraint. But institutions are staffed by human beings who exist within political and social climates.

Policing for Visibility Not Justice

Policing becomes reactive to publicity. High profile cases receive swift action while quieter injustices remain ignored. Arrests begin to serve symbolic reassurance rather than investigative necessity. Due process starts appearing as delay. Caution is interpreted as complicity.

Courts Under the Shadow of Popular Expectation

Courts, although constitutionally independent, do not function in social isolation. Judges read newspapers and face public discourse. When verdicts are expected to satisfy ideological camps, neutrality itself becomes controversial. Judicial reasoning is evaluated through political lenses rather than legal coherence.

The Slow Erosion of Constitutional Culture

This weakens constitutional culture. Rights exist to protect unpopular individuals and minorities. But when public emotion becomes the primary measure of justice, safeguards begin to look like obstacles. Law risks becoming a reflection of crowd morality instead of a restraint upon it.

Resistance Begins in the Mind

In such an environment, the survival of democracy depends not only on institutions but also on citizens who resist psychological manipulation. Mental independence becomes civic duty.

Slow Down the Emotional Reflex

The first form of resistance is slowing down emotional reaction. Anger is the preferred currency of digital platforms. Pausing before sharing or responding disrupts the cycle of impulsive amplification.

Break the Bubble of Confirmation

The second is diversifying information sources. Reading across ideological boundaries weakens the illusion that one narrative represents absolute truth. Exposure to complexity reduces susceptibility to propaganda.

Do Not Turn Ideology Into Identity

The third is separating personal identity from political slogans. When ideology becomes self worth, disagreement feels like personal attack. This emotional fusion makes manipulation easy and reconciliation impossible.

Save Relationships to Save Society

Preserving friendships and family relationships across political differences is not weakness. It is democratic resilience. When every disagreement becomes ideological warfare, society loses its capacity for empathy and dialogue.

Humility as Democratic Strength

Finally, resisting polarisation requires humility. Accepting the possibility of being wrong weakens propaganda which thrives on absolute certainty. Doubt is not betrayal. It is democratic maturity.

The Real Battle of Our Time

The real conflict of our time is not between religions or parties. It is between reflection and reaction, between thought and impulse, between citizenship and digital herding. Digital technology did not invent prejudice, but it has industrialised it. And when prejudice becomes profitable, politics stops seeking solutions and starts manufacturing enemies.

Democracy survives not only through elections and courts, but through citizens who refuse to surrender their minds to emotional automation. Algorithms may control screens, but they do not have to control conscience. That choice still remains with us.

Author Introduction

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.