RSS: Appropriators, Not Protectors, of Hinduism

 

I. The Foundational Myth: RSS and the Invention of a Hindu Rashtra

The Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) was founded in 1925 by Dr. Keshav Baliram Hedgewar, not as a spiritual movement but as a socio-political response to what it perceived as the “weakness” of Hindus in the face of Muslim and colonial assertiveness. From the outset, its project was not religious renaissance but cultural consolidation—to forge a monolithic Hindu identity under the banner of Hindutva, a term coined by Vinayak Damodar Savarkar.

Savarkar, an atheist by conviction, redefined "Hindu" not in terms of faith, but in terms of race, land, and culture:

“A Hindu means a person who regards this land of Bharat as his Fatherland (Pitrubhumi) and as his Holyland (Punyabhumi).” – V.D. Savarkar, Hindutva: Who is a Hindu? (1923)

This definition excluded Muslims, Christians, Jews, and others whose holy lands lay outside India, regardless of how long they had lived in the subcontinent. It was the RSS that took this exclusionary idea and built an organization dedicated to it—modelled not after any Hindu religious institution, but more akin to paramilitary groups.

Swami Vivekananda once warned against such distortion:

“Religion is not in doctrines, in dogmas, nor in intellectual argumentation. It is being and becoming.”

– Swami Vivekananda

---

II. RSS vs Hindu Spiritual Traditions: A Philosophical Betrayal

Traditional Hinduism is deeply pluralistic—accommodating atheism (as in the Carvaka school), materialism, non-dualism (Advaita), dualism (Dvaita), and the path of devotion (Bhakti) side by side. Its saints—from Kabir and Basava to Mirabai and Ramanuja—challenged caste, ritualism, and orthodoxy in the name of a more humane and just divine order.

By contrast, the RSS’s interpretation of Hinduism is rigid, caste-endorsing, and obsessed with external markers—language, dress, dietary habits, and militarism—rather than inner transformation. It has no scriptural base, nor does it emerge from Vedic or Upanishadic traditions.

“The essence of Hinduism is not cow protection or temple construction. It is truth, non-violence, and renunciation.”

– Mahatma Gandhi

Gandhi was never accepted by the RSS. In fact, they hated his inclusive vision and blamed him for being too accommodating to Muslims—a view that culminated in his assassination by Nathuram Godse, a former RSS worker.

---

III. Political Exploitation: RSS and the Rise of BJP

The Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) was formed in 1980 as the political arm of the RSS after the collapse of the Janata Party. Though the RSS formally claims to be “cultural,” it exerts vast control over the BJP’s leadership, electoral strategy, and policy agenda. No BJP Prime Minister—whether Vajpayee or Modi—has ever openly defied the RSS.

The Ram Janmabhoomi movement of the late 1980s and early 1990s, led by the VHP and the BJP under the watchful eye of the RSS, was the defining moment of this transformation. The demolition of the Babri Masjid in 1992 was not a religious act but a carefully orchestrated political campaign that catapulted the BJP into national relevance.

“The destruction of the Babri Masjid is the biggest blot on Indian secularism and was no spontaneous act of the mob but a planned conspiracy.”

– Liberhan Commission Report, 2009

This act triggered widespread riots, thousands of deaths, and communal polarization that has continued to define Indian politics.

---

IV. The Cult of Majoritarianism: Manufacturing the “Other”

The RSS-BJP ideology depends on constructing a permanent “other” to rally Hindu identity. Muslims have been the primary target, framed as invaders, anti-nationals, or "appeased minorities." Christians have also been demonized, especially in tribal areas.

The cow becomes more important than human life. Love Jihad replaces employment as a priority issue. The Tablighi Jamaat becomes a scapegoat during a pandemic, while lynch mobs become vigilantes in service of gau raksha (cow protection).

“Hindutva is not Hinduism. Hindutva wants uniformity; Hinduism is plural. Hindutva wants loyalty to one language, one nation, one leader; Hinduism speaks hundreds of languages and bows to hundreds of gods.”
– Arundhati Roy

---

V. Social Hypocrisy: Brahmanism in the Guise of Hindu Unity

The RSS pays lip service to Dalits, but its ideological core is deeply Brahmanical. It has opposed inter-caste marriages, never demanded temple entry for all Hindus, and its leadership has historically come from the upper-caste male elite.

Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, the architect of the Indian Constitution, sharply criticized the RSS. He did not see it as a force for Hindu unity but as a reactionary organization seeking to maintain caste hierarchies:

“Hindu society is a myth; the caste is the real social unit.”

– Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, Annihilation of Caste

It is no accident that Ambedkar rejected Hinduism and embraced Buddhism.

---

VI. Conclusion: From Dharma to Dogma

The RSS has not protected Hinduism—it has politicized, militarized, and distorted it. Hinduism’s spiritual strength lies in its diversity, its questions, its self-doubt, its non-violence. The RSS’s project replaces this with certainty, aggression, and cultural supremacy.

In doing so, it has not defended Hindu civilization—it has betrayed its soul.

---

Author’s Note:

Siddhartha Shankar  Mishra is an Advocate at the Supreme Court of India and a political commentator. He writes on issues at the intersection of law, democracy, and cultural identity. He can be reached at ssmishra33@gmail.com.

They Invoke Vivekananda, But Fear His Clarity

 

Where English becomes elitist, Sanskrit becomes a stunt, and truth becomes the casualty.

When Swami Vivekananda stood before the World’s Parliament of Religions in Chicago in 1893 and opened with “Sisters and Brothers of America,” he didn’t just greet an audience—he stunned a civilization. He didn’t chant mantras or wave flags; he simply spoke, in precise and dignified English, about India’s spiritual depth and universal tolerance. For him, English was not a colonial yoke—it was a chisel with which he carved out India’s identity on the global stage.

Over a century later, the same Swami is remembered more for memes and mantras than for the mind he was. The regime that never misses a photo-op on National Youth Day invokes his name with robotic reverence, but fears the clarity of thought that defined him. For all their saffron speeches and Sanskritized slogans, today's rulers have neither his intellectual courage nor his inclusive vision.

This is a government that uses tradition as camouflage and modernity as a marketing campaign. It tells the poor to study in regional languages, but ensures their own children are fluent in the best English-medium schools. It shouts about decolonization from podiums while signing trade deals in Oxford-accented diplomacy. In this doublethink dystopia, English is treason for the masses but strategy for ministers.

They call English “Macaulay’s curse” in Parliament, only to use it on stage at Davos and G20 summits. They erase colonial names of roads and cities, yet run their digital infrastructure on American algorithms, their economy on Chinese imports, and their narrative on British parliamentary theatrics. Even the “Make in India” lion was designed in Switzerland.

At a time when the world is moving towards multilingual competence, India’s cultural politics is pushing a false binary—English versus Indian languages. But real empowerment isn’t in exclusion; it’s in access. Swami Vivekananda understood this. He embraced English as a means, not an end—as a language to reach out, not to bow down. He wanted Indians to speak with confidence and compete with the best, without shame or servility. Today's leaders, however, weaponize language as a tool of division, turning cultural pride into political prejudice.

Vivekananda, who urged Indians to master English and Western science so they could engage the world, is now reduced to a cultural mascot—wheeled out during speeches, ignored in policy. “Education is the manifestation of the perfection already in man,” he said. But what education is left when school curriculums are rewritten to glorify myth over method, ideology over inquiry?

The New Education Policy promotes Sanskrit as a core language. Fine. But where are the scholarships, research labs, and serious global collaborations to elevate it from tokenism to scholarship? Instead, we see Sanskritised AI bots, mythological WhatsApp forwards, and ministers pontificating about plastic surgery in ancient India—all while millions of schoolchildren drop out for lack of teachers and toilets.

In Vivekananda's view, true education was not about rote memorization or blind obedience. It was about critical thinking, strength of character, and self-realization. He envisioned an India where education would ignite courage—not conformity. But today, that flame is dimmed by institutional mediocrity and political interference. Our universities are starved of funds, our research stifled by red tape, and our brightest minds pushed to seek opportunities abroad.

Vivekananda wanted Indian youth to be physically strong, mentally alert, spiritually fearless. What we have today is a government more interested in grooming troll armies than thinking citizens. The young are not inspired to question or create; they are trained to amplify hashtags, chant slogans, and defend mediocrity. Instead of encouraging curiosity, the system incentivizes conformity. Instead of nurturing debate, it breeds dogma.

This same regime builds bullet trains for headlines but lets ordinary trains derail in silence. It spends crores on beautifying temples, but cuts funding for scientific research. It sends spacecraft to the moon while children in tribal belts study under leaking roofs. The contradiction isn’t just staggering—it’s systemic. Development is curated for photo-ops, not designed for equal access.

They say India is rising. But rising for whom? For those who speak English on TV debates and Sanskrit in political rallies? For those whose nationalism is measured in decibels? For those who rewrite history not to learn from it, but to erase its inconvenient chapters? The idea of India as a knowledge society is slowly being replaced by India as a controlled society—one that prefers silence over speech, obedience over originality.

Swami Vivekananda said, “We are what our thoughts have made us; so take care what you think.” But this government would rather control what we are allowed to think. Criticism is treason. Dissent is sedition. And debate is reduced to shouting matches between anchors and party puppets. The space for intellectual disagreement is shrinking; the price for speaking truth is rising.

At the heart of it, the government’s appropriation of Vivekananda is not homage—it’s hijack. They love his image, not his intellect. They exalt his robe, not his reason. His idea of a spiritually awakened, intellectually empowered, globally engaged India is too nuanced for their narrow nationalism. His universalism jars against their sectarianism; his modernism clashes with their medievalism.

So what would he say to a regime that uses Sanskrit for spectacle, bans English for the masses, and rewrites history to serve ideology?

Perhaps he would say nothing.

Perhaps he would just walk away from the noise of TV anchors and the chants of hired mobs. Perhaps, like in Chicago, he would just speak—in clear, firm, elegant English—and leave the demagogues exposed.

Because real nationalism doesn't scream. It educates. And real spirituality doesn't market itself—it enlightens.

---

About the Author:

Siddhartha Shankar Mishra is an Advocate at the Supreme Court of India. He writes on law, politics, and culture, with a focus on constitutional values, governance, and the distortions of public discourse. His work reflects a commitment to intellectual clarity and democratic integrity in times of rising majoritarianism.

 

.