The Dark Age of Public Discourse: India’s Political Climate Since 2014

 

In every democracy there are moments when political disagreement sharpens into hostility. Yet there are also periods when the very tone of public life begins to change. India, a nation that once prided itself on plural debate and moral restraint in politics, appears to be passing through such a moment. Over the past decade, particularly since 2014, the language of politics has hardened, public discourse has grown increasingly hostile, and the institutions meant to safeguard democratic balance have come under visible strain. Many observers describe this moment not merely as political transition but as a troubling descent into a darker age of democratic culture.

The year 2014 marked a major turning point in Indian politics. The electoral victory of Narendra Modi and the rise of the Bharatiya Janata Party with an absolute parliamentary majority ended decades of coalition politics. For many citizens this moment symbolized hope for decisive governance, economic reform and administrative efficiency. The promise of development, strong leadership and national pride resonated deeply with a large section of the electorate.

However, the political transformation that followed did not remain confined to governance alone. It gradually reshaped the tone of political conversation in the country. Public discourse began to revolve increasingly around identity, loyalty and ideological conformity. Political debate moved away from policy and toward narratives of cultural and national belonging. The result was a climate where disagreement was often interpreted as hostility toward the nation itself.

One of the most visible symptoms of this shift has been the deterioration of parliamentary decorum. Parliament, historically regarded as the highest forum of democratic debate, has increasingly witnessed angry exchanges, personal attacks and abusive rhetoric. Members of Parliament who are expected to represent the dignity of democratic institutions sometimes resort to language that would once have been considered unacceptable within legislative halls. When lawmakers themselves normalize hostility, the message inevitably travels beyond Parliament into society.

The decline in parliamentary civility reflects a deeper transformation in political culture. Political parties across the spectrum have always engaged in sharp criticism, but the present era has witnessed a more aggressive form of discourse amplified by digital media. Social media platforms have become arenas of ideological warfare where abuse, misinformation and character assassination circulate freely. Organized online campaigns often target journalists, activists and political opponents with coordinated hostility.

The rise of political trolling networks has played a significant role in this transformation. Digital platforms that could have strengthened democratic dialogue have instead been weaponized to silence dissent and amplify propaganda. Critics of government policies frequently face online harassment, while complex political questions are reduced to simplistic slogans. The speed and reach of digital media have made it easier for emotional narratives to overshadow reasoned discussion.

Another dimension of this political climate is the increasing polarization of society along religious and cultural lines. Debates about nationalism and identity have intensified, often creating suspicion between communities. Instead of reinforcing the constitutional principle of equal citizenship, political rhetoric sometimes emphasizes cultural majoritarianism. Such narratives deepen divisions and weaken the inclusive foundations upon which the Indian republic was built.

The ideological influence of organizations such as the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh has also become more visible in the national conversation. Supporters view this as a long overdue cultural correction that reasserts civilizational identity. Others see it as an attempt to redefine the secular character of the Indian state. Regardless of perspective, the ideological debate has become sharper and more emotionally charged.

The impact of this environment is not limited to politics alone. It shapes the functioning of institutions as well. Independent institutions such as investigative agencies, universities and even sections of the media often find themselves drawn into ideological conflicts. When institutions appear to align with political narratives, public trust begins to erode. Democracy ultimately depends not only on elections but also on the credibility of institutions that operate beyond electoral politics.

The media landscape too has undergone a dramatic transformation. Sections of television media increasingly prioritize sensationalism over substance. Prime time debates frequently resemble shouting contests rather than thoughtful analysis. Anchors sometimes act less like moderators and more like participants in ideological battles. This environment reinforces polarization instead of fostering understanding.

Yet it would be simplistic to attribute the entire transformation solely to one political party or government. The deeper issue lies in the erosion of democratic ethics across the political spectrum. Opposition parties, while criticizing the ruling establishment, have often struggled to articulate a coherent alternative vision. Political opportunism and rhetorical excess are not confined to any single ideological camp.

Moreover, the electorate itself has become more emotionally invested in political identity. Political loyalty increasingly resembles cultural affiliation. Supporters defend leaders with fervor, while opponents respond with equal intensity. In such an atmosphere nuance becomes rare. Complex policy questions are overshadowed by ideological narratives.

However, describing the present moment as a “dark age” should not imply that democracy has collapsed. India continues to hold competitive elections, courts continue to function, and citizens continue to express dissent in multiple ways. Civil society organizations, independent journalists and concerned citizens still raise questions about governance and accountability. The resilience of Indian democracy lies precisely in this persistent ability to debate and correct itself.

History shows that democracies often experience phases of heightened polarization before rediscovering equilibrium. The essential question is whether political leadership and citizens alike are willing to restore civility and constitutional values to the center of public life. Democracy is sustained not only by laws and institutions but also by the ethical conduct of those who participate in it.

For Parliament in particular, the challenge is urgent. Legislative debate must once again become a forum of reason rather than spectacle. Political leaders must recognize that abusive rhetoric may produce short term applause but ultimately weakens the dignity of democratic institutions. Public representatives carry the responsibility of setting standards for national conversation.

The decade since 2014 has undeniably reshaped India’s political landscape. It has produced strong leadership, intense ideological debate and unprecedented digital mobilization. Yet it has also revealed the fragility of democratic culture when civility and restraint disappear from public life.

Whether this period will ultimately be remembered as a dark age or as a difficult phase of democratic evolution depends on the choices made today. Democracies do not decline overnight. They decline gradually when language becomes toxic, institutions become partisan and citizens begin to see each other as enemies rather than fellow participants in a shared republic.

The path forward lies not in silencing political differences but in restoring the ethics of democratic disagreement. India’s constitutional vision was never about uniformity of thought. It was about coexistence within diversity. The future of the republic will depend on whether that principle is defended with the same passion with which political battles are fought today.

 

Author: Siddhartha Shankar Mishra is an advocate at the Supreme Court of India and a commentator on law, politics and society.

 

 

Icons and Ironies in the Politics of Faith

 

History has a mischievous sense of humour. It delights in placing unlikely ingredients into the same political kitchen and watching later generations argue about the recipe. Few comparisons reveal this better than the public images and private ironies surrounding Savarkar, Gandhi, and Jinnah. Each became a towering symbol. Each is now packaged as a simplified mascot. And each, if resurrected, might politely decline the brochure written in his name.

Vinayak Damodar Savarkar presents the first paradox. A Chitpavan Brahmin who did not treat diet as destiny, he openly consumed meat and spoke in rational and utilitarian terms about cow protection and cow slaughter. His writings show that he approached the cow less as a divine mother and more as an economic animal. This alone is enough to make many of his present day admirers reach for selective quotation and spiritual white correction fluid. Savarkar’s personal habits were strikingly modern for his time. Anecdotes describe him as someone who enjoyed meat and fine drink, sometimes jokingly said to be paired with Zetsun whiskey, whether literally or in spirit. The larger point stands. His cultural politics was orthodox in identity but flexible in lifestyle. He separated personal conduct from political mobilisation with impressive convenience.

Savarkar was a master of ideological engineering. He understood that identity, when sharpened, becomes a political weapon more efficient than any sword. His project of Hindutva was not merely religious but civilisational and territorial. It was designed as a binding glue as well as a boundary wall. He wrote with clarity and force. He argued with discipline. He provoked with purpose. But there was also a theatrical quality to the construction. The champion of cultural purity was personally unburdened by ritual purity. The architect of Hindu consolidation was socially radical in some reforms yet rigid in civilisational definition. It is as if the chef refused to eat from the menu he so passionately marketed.

Then comes Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, who appears at first glance as Savarkar’s mirror opposite. A devout Hindu and a lifelong vegetarian, Gandhi turned personal discipline into public method. His politics wore a moral costume and often insisted that everyone else try it on. Yet Gandhi’s great disruption was not dietary but democratic. He invited disagreement. He tolerated critics. He argued in public and corrected himself in public. He spiritualised politics but also pluralised it. His Hinduism was deeply felt but rarely framed as a citizenship test.

Gandhi’s irony lies elsewhere. The most religious of the three often behaved in the most politically inclusive way. He could be stubborn, moralising, and occasionally impractical, but he did not build his politics on permanent enemies. He built it on conversion of hearts, including the hearts of his opponents. Empires prefer rebels with bombs. They find rebels with conscience extremely inconvenient. Gandhi’s method was slow, exasperating, and annoyingly humane. In a century addicted to strong medicine, he prescribed moral physiotherapy.

Muhammad Ali Jinnah completes the trio with perhaps the sharpest twist. Urbane, impeccably dressed, trained in law, and culturally Westernised, Jinnah was not known for religious orthodoxy in personal life. He enjoyed wine. Many accounts suggest he was indifferent to ritual observance. Some controversial claims even suggest dietary choices forbidden in Islam. Yet history crowned him as the great spokesman of Muslim political destiny. Nothing proves that politics is a costume party better than this transformation.

Jinnah was not a cleric. He was a constitutionalist who lost faith in constitutional guarantees. His demand for Pakistan grew not from seminary theology but from political distrust and strategic calculation. He mobilised religious identity with a lawyer’s precision rather than a preacher’s passion. The result was a religious nation argued into existence by a secular mind. It is one of history’s grand ironies that personal liberalism can sometimes produce public separation.

Here is where the satire matures. Savarkar and Jinnah, despite standing under different flags, used strikingly similar political techniques. Both converted community identity into political currency. Both warned their followers of cultural danger. Both argued that coexistence without dominance was a risky bargain. Their languages differed. Their symbols differed. Their emotional audiences differed. Their strategic grammar often did not. Each ran a campaign of civilisational anxiety with impressive intellectual packaging.

Gandhi alone refused to fully enter this marketplace of fear. He spoke of civilisation too, but as an ethical experiment rather than a guarded fortress. While the other two drafted blueprints for political separation of identities, Gandhi drafted invitations for moral coexistence. He was frequently ignored, sometimes opposed, and eventually canonised in ways that also simplify him unfairly. Saints are often edited more aggressively than sinners.

The lesson is not that one man was pure and the others were villains. The lesson is that political memory is a talented fiction writer. It removes inconvenient habits, upgrades symbolic value, and airbrushes contradictions. The meat eating nationalist becomes a mascot of ritual culture. The secular barrister becomes an icon of religious destiny. The spiritual democrat becomes a harmless statue on currency notes.

If there is humour in this, it is dry and durable. History does not just repeat itself. It also rebrands itself. And the loudest brand ambassadors are often those who have not read the full manual.

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.

 

Disclaimer : - The views expressed here are interpretive and satirical in nature, meant for discussion and reflection, not personal or religious offence.

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.

The Long Shadow of Golwalkar and the Making of a Majoritarian Republic

 

The Rise of Golwalkar and the Transformation of the RSS

When Dr K B Hedgewar founded the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh in 1925 he imagined a disciplined cultural organisation that would uplift a disillusioned Hindu society. But the ideological transformation of the RSS truly began only after his death in 1940 when M S Golwalkar succeeded him as Sarsanghchalak. Hedgewar had prioritised unity self discipline and restrained political engagement. Golwalkar however infused the organisation with a doctrinal clarity that turned the RSS into a structured project of Hindu nationhood. Under him the RSS became a cadre based institution where unity was not a celebration of diversity but a demand for cultural homogeneity. The shakha became the forge where a generation was trained to view India not as a plural republic but as a sacred civilizational homeland of Hindus.

Defining a Hindu Nation Civilizational Identity over Civic Citizenship

Golwalkar’s writings such as we or our nationhood defined and bunch of thoughts placed Hindu identity at the centre of national belonging. He repeatedly argued that minorities could remain in India only if they accepted the cultural supremacy of the Hindu way of life. In his imagination citizenship was not a contract among equals but a system of graded belonging where Hindus claimed cultural primacy while others were expected to assimilate. Religious diversity was not an asset to be nurtured but a deviation to be corrected. The RSS under Golwalkar thus shifted from cultural self confidence to cultural majoritarianism a shift that would later echo through Indian politics long after his death.

Divergence from the Freedom Struggle and Antagonism toward Gandhi

While Jawaharlal Nehru Subhas Bose Sarojini Naidu and countless others mobilised mass movements for independence Golwalkar chose to keep the RSS away from the anti colonial struggle. He believed that strengthening Hindu society internally was more important than confronting the British externally. Critics argued that this posture conveniently shielded the RSS from colonial repression while distancing it from the moral authority of the freedom movement. Golwalkar accused Gandhi of weakening Hindu society by engaging with Muslim leaders and seeking unity through persuasion rather than cultural dominance. The RSS distance from the freedom struggle was therefore not accidental but ideological born of a suspicion that mass nationalism diluted Hindu primacy.

A Warning three weeks before the Assassination

In the winter of 1947 shortly after the bloodshed of Partition M S Golwalkar addressed a gathering where he condemned what he saw as moral weakness and appeasement in national politics. In that fraught atmosphere as Gandhi persisted with his final fasts calling for harmony and the release of withheld funds to Pakistan Golwalkar’s words carried a dark edge. At a public meeting in early December 1947 he declared that certain policies pursued by national leaders were unIndian and satanic and added that we have the means whereby such men can be immediately silenced if they continue to harm Hindu interests.

“On 8 December 1947, RSS chief M S Golwalkar at a rally described certain government and Gandhi-led policies as ‘unIndian and satanic’ and declared that ‘we have the means whereby such men can be immediately silenced’ if they stood in the way of protecting Hindu interests.”

This was not an order nor a call to arms yet the sentiment reflected a deep and open hostility toward Gandhi’s final effort to preserve moral citizenship across faiths. When seen in the hindsight of Gandhi’s assassination only weeks later this remark remains an enduring and troubling reminder of the volatile ideological climate of the time.

Gandhis Assassination the RSS Ban and a Permanent Stain of Suspicion

The assassination of Mahatma Gandhi on 30 January 1948 intensified scrutiny of this hostility. Though Golwalkar and the RSS were not legally proven to be part of the conspiracy the fact that Nathuram Godse had once been associated with the organisation and had absorbed similar ideological influences cast a long shadow. The government banned the RSS arguing that the ideological poison that had vilified Gandhi could no longer be ignored. The ban was lifted a year later only after the RSS formally declared respect for the Constitution. But this episode left a stain that history has never fully washed away for it raised the question of whether cultural nationalism can slide into moral absolutism where dissent is seen as a threat rather than a voice to be engaged.

Recasting Public Image without Abandoning Majoritarian Ideology

After the ban was lifted Golwalkar worked hard to present the RSS as socially constructive. Educational and charitable work expanded and the language of public statements became more cautious. Yet he never surrendered the idea that India must be rooted in Hindu cultural primacy. Minorities were recognised but their equal belonging remained conditional on acceptance of majority cultural norms. The RSS under Golwalkar mastered the art of balancing constitutional language with a cultural imagination that waited for its political moment.

Golwalkars Legacy in the Modi Era Majoritarian Ideas Enter State Policy

Nearly eight decades later Golwalkar’s influence has travelled from the shakha ground to the centre of power. Narendra Modi a lifelong RSS pracharak articulates a political vision that resonates deeply with Golwalkar’s worldview. Policies such as the Citizenship Amendment Act the promotion of a Uniform Civil Code and the centrality of Hindu cultural symbols in national politics all reflect this continuity. The inauguration of the Ayodhya temple by a sitting Prime Minister blurred the line between state authority and religious symbolism in ways that fulfil long standing RSS aspirations. Critics argue that this represents the political mainstreaming of Golwalkar’s vision turning cultural majoritarianism into the guiding framework of governance.

From Cultural Movement to Political Blueprint The Constitution Reimagined

Golwalkar had criticised the framers of the Constitution for not rooting the document in Hindu philosophical tradition. Today his critiques resurface indirectly through institutional shifts that seek to harmonise state authority with majoritarian cultural norms. Revised textbooks emphasise ancient Hindu achievements national universities are pushed toward cultural revivalism and public rhetoric routinely frames diversity as fragmentation. What was once a cultural mission now appears to many observers as a political blueprint enacted through electoral legitimacy.

Is the RSS Communal The Ideology of Unity through Assimilation

The RSS rejects the label communal and claims it seeks unity. But unity of what kind. When equal citizenship is conditional on cultural assimilation and when plurality is tolerated only if it bows to majority norms unity becomes indistinguishable from a project of majoritarian dominance. The question is not whether the RSS preaches hatred. The deeper question is whether its ideological structure produces exclusion and hierarchy by redefining citizenship through cultural identity rather than equal rights. In this sense the RSS may not call itself communal but its framework inevitably creates communal outcomes because its idea of India is rooted first in culture and only then in citizenship.

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.

WHERE THE MIND IS WITHOUT FEAR

 

WHERE THE MIND IS WITHOUT FEAR

Constitution Day and the Distorted Legacy of Power

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Introduction: A Day That Reveals the Truth

Constitution Day should renew our faith in the values that hold the republic together. It should remind us of a nation imagined through justice, liberty, equality and fraternity. It should return us to the dream of freedom where the mind is without fear and knowledge is free. Instead, it exposes a deep contradiction. Those who celebrate the Constitution with loud speeches belong to an ideological tradition that rejected it from the very beginning. The louder the praise, the greater the dishonesty. This is the paradox of our political moment.

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The Constitution as the Republic’s Moral Foundation

The Constitution is not just a legal text. It is a moral foundation. It protects the citizen from the power of the state. It ensures that birth does not define destiny. It treats every human being with dignity. It restrains authority through principles, not favour. It imagines a nation where the poorest person stands equal before law with the most powerful.

But the present climate reveals how far the republic has drifted from this foundation. Fear is used as a method of rule. Propaganda replaces knowledge. Institutions bend before power. Social divisions widen while those meant to govern speak of unity. A document built on equality struggles to survive under those who treat it as a ceremonial object rather than a governing discipline.

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The Ideological Roots of the Crisis

To understand the erosion of constitutional values today, one must confront the ideological foundation of the ruling political ecosystem. The present political structure draws its intellectual influence from the writings and speeches of M S Golwalkar, the most important ideologue of the organisation that shapes their worldview.

Golwalkar’s rejection of the Constitution was not vague or diplomatic. It was clear, structured and unapologetic. He argued that the Constitution had nothing Indian in it. He complained that it borrowed democratic ideas from many countries. He criticised the Constituent Assembly for choosing a modern republican model instead of drawing from ancient social codes.

He said openly that India did not need a modern Constitution. He insisted that the nation should have accepted ancient law books as its governing framework. Among these he pointed to Manusmriti as an ideal source of law. This was the same text that endorsed caste hierarchy and social inequality. Ambedkar had torn it publicly to reject its oppressive vision. Golwalkar, in contrast, praised it as an authentic foundation for India.

This was not a difference of opinion. It was a direct conflict between the inclusive republic the Constitution created and the cultural state Golwalkar imagined.

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Golwalkar’s Rejection of Democracy

Golwalkar repeatedly expressed distrust toward democracy. He believed that democratic structures were not suited to the Indian character. He criticised universal equality, calling it artificial. He believed in hierarchy as a natural social order.

This view goes against the core of the Constitution, which declares that every citizen stands equal before the law regardless of caste, religion or culture. Where the Constitution sees a political community, Golwalkar saw a cultural collective. Where the Constitution sees citizens, Golwalkar saw subjects of a cultural identity. Where the Constitution promotes fraternity across differences, Golwalkar emphasised uniformity through cultural dominance.

This ideological conflict still shapes the political culture of today.

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The Refusal to Honour National Symbols

The organisation influenced by Golwalkar refused for decades to hoist the national flag at its headquarters. They claimed the tricolour did not reflect their cultural view of the nation. Only after public pressure did they raise it.

This refusal was not trivial. It revealed a deeper discomfort with the inclusive national identity the Constitution created. A flag that represents unity across communities did not suit an ideology built on cultural singularity. A republic built on equality did not fit their vision of ancient hierarchy.

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The Present Government and the Performance of Constitutional Loyalty

Today the government that draws strength from this ideological tradition speaks about the Constitution with great emotion. They organise events. They praise Ambedkar. They quote constitutional verses. Yet every institutional action tells a different story.

Dissent is criminalised.
Agencies are weaponised.
Media is pressured.
Universities are censored.
Federal balance is weakened.
Minority rights are eroded.
Public expression is monitored through fear.

This is not constitutional governance. It is governance wearing constitutional clothing.

A government that truly believes in the Constitution does not need propaganda to show loyalty. Its actions reflect loyalty. Its institutions reflect independence. Its society reflects harmony. But today the Constitution is celebrated in speeches and violated in practice.

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Erosion of Institutions and the Rise of Fear

The Constitution survives not because it is written. It survives because institutions protect it. Today those institutions stand weakened. Investigative bodies behave like political tools. Public universities fear disapproval from authority. Independent journalism struggles to breathe under pressure. The judiciary carries the burden of delay and political shadow.

Fear has become the unspoken language of governance. Citizens fear expressing their thoughts. Activists fear legal threats. Journalists fear targeted cases. Students fear disciplinary action. When fear governs society, the dream of constitutional liberty collapses.

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Tagore’s Vision and the Republic’s Conscience

Tagore’s lines offer a moral mirror to the republic. He imagined a nation without fear, without narrow divisions, without falsehood. The Constitution tried to build that nation. Today the distance between Tagore’s vision and reality grows wider. Fear has replaced courage. Propaganda has replaced knowledge. Divisions have replaced unity.

Tagore spoke from the depth of truth. The question today is whether citizens can still speak from that depth.

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The People as the Final Defenders of the Republic

Governments may change. Ideologies may shift. Institutions may weaken. But the Constitution survives only if citizens protect it. The people are the final guardians of the republic. They hold the moral responsibility to challenge injustice, defend liberty and demand accountability.

When institutions fail, the people must rise with conscience. The republic belongs to them, not to those who rule temporarily.

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Conclusion: Constitution Day as a Call for Courage

Constitution Day should not be a ritual. It should be a reminder that the republic stands at a turning point. The conflict today is not between political parties. It is between constitutional morality and authoritarian desire. Between a nation built on equality and a nation shaped by hierarchy. Between a future of freedom and a future of fear.

The Constitution cannot protect itself. Only citizens can. Only truth can. Only moral courage can.

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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.

Every Scheme Is a Scam A Deep Dive into Broken Promises and Public Distrust

 

A welfare state survives on trust. Citizens believe that when a government announces a scheme the aim is public good and social benefit. But in India the phrase every scheme is a scam has become a bitter remark in drawing rooms courts media studios and even casual street conversations. It may sound like an exaggeration but the sentiment comes from repeated experiences of inflated claims false promises manipulated data and corruption at every tier of governance.

The problem is not that welfare schemes are unnecessary. The problem is the misuse of schemes for publicity and the diversion of public funds through hidden channels. As a result people slowly begin to assume that behind every new announcement there is a hidden motive and a hidden beneficiary who is rarely the citizen.

This distrust becomes clearer when we examine some major schemes across sectors. Each scheme was launched with fanfare and heavy praise. The outcomes however reveal deep gaps that justify public anger and the popular belief that every scheme is a scam.

Take the Pradhan Mantri Awas Yojana which promised affordable houses for the poor within a declared time frame. Ground reality shows that many people were sanctioned houses only on paper. Many applicants did not receive the second or third installment. In several states beneficiaries complain that they were asked for bribes to release the sanctioned amount. In many districts houses shown as completed in official records are incomplete structures or just empty plots. This is not a case of a few bad officials. It is a structural failure that allows leakage and corruption at every step.

Look at the Ayushman Bharat scheme which claimed to give health protection to millions. Several private hospitals were caught generating false bills for patients who never visited the hospital. Ghost beneficiaries were created with fake identities. Medical procedures were billed but never performed. Instead of strengthening public health services this scheme gave some private institutions an easy method of earning from public funds. When a scheme meant to treat the sick becomes a source of profit for manipulators people naturally call it a scam.

The Ujjwala scheme gave gas connections to poor households but many families simply could not afford refills. Distributors reported that a large number of connections became inactive after a few months. This means the government gained publicity but the poor continued to cook with firewood and coal. A welfare announcement without long term affordability becomes an illusion. Once again the accusation of scam surfaces not because the idea was wrong but because the implementation was incomplete and misleading.

The Swachh Bharat mission claimed that open defecation had been eliminated across the country. This claim was repeated on global platforms and in national celebrations. Yet surveys by independent bodies and reports from villages show that many toilets were never used or quickly became unusable due to poor construction. Some toilets had no water supply. Some were built far from houses making daily use difficult for the elderly and women. Villagers were counted as users even when they continued old practices. When a government declares victory on an unfinished mission people see it as a scam of data and a scam of publicity.

The Digital India initiative promised a transformation of governance through technology. But the digital divide remains wide. Many citizens still struggle with weak network no smartphone no digital literacy and no access to online services. Despite claims of transparency several portals crash during peak hours and many citizen services still require middlemen and bribes. Digital India has created convenience for the privileged class while the poor remain trapped in old paper based systems. When citizens see tall slogans but no real change on the ground the word scam appears naturally.

The Pradhan Mantri Kisan Samman Nidhi which sends money directly to farmers appears transparent at first glance. But many ineligible persons have received the benefit while genuine farmers were wrongly excluded. Tenant farmers sharecroppers and landless cultivators were ignored because of faulty land records. State investigations exposed that dead persons and government employees had received payments. When a scheme for the weakest ends up helping the wrong people people call it a scam on the farmer.

The Jal Jeevan and Nal se Jal missions promised tap water connections to every rural household. Yet several villages report that pipes were installed only for photographs and record books. In some places water reaches homes only once in many days. In other areas the water is muddy unsafe or supplied only through tankers. A tap without water is not a scheme. It is a token gesture designed to create an illusion of progress.

Even the Smart City Mission which was supposed to renew urban planning and modernize infrastructure has delivered very little in many towns. Most cities have spent money on cosmetic beautification such as fountains decorative lights and fancy signboards while real urban problems remain the same. Traffic chaos unsafe footpaths informal settlements poor drainage and polluted air still define daily life. Projects worth thousands of crores were announced but only a small fraction reached meaningful completion. Activists and auditors therefore see it as a grand exercise in diversion of money rather than a serious urban reform.

The Beti Bachao Beti Padhao scheme was launched with emotional slogans about saving and educating the girl child. Later official reports admitted that a major share of the budget went into advertisements and publicity events instead of direct benefits and support systems for girls. A scheme that spends more on its own publicity than on the lives of the girls it claims to protect cannot easily escape the label of scam.

These are not stray examples. Almost every sector has witnessed similar stories. Skill development centres that exist only on paper. Rural roads recorded as completed but never built. Pension schemes where elderly beneficiaries wait for months. Employment schemes where attendance registers are faked. The pattern becomes clear. Authorities love announcements and slogans but avoid accountability and hard ground work.

Why does this happen repeatedly. First there is a deep union between politics and publicity. Schemes are designed less as instruments of justice and more as instruments of election strategy. Second the monitoring mechanisms are weak and easily influenced. Third corruption flows from the lowest level to the highest and honest officers who resist it face isolation and punishment. Fourth data manipulation has become a normal habit as long as it creates a feel good narrative. Fifth there is hardly any serious punishment for those who misuse public funds.

As a result public trust collapses. When citizens hear about a new scheme they do not feel hope. They feel suspicion. They assume someone somewhere will make money while they will receive only messages jingles and speeches.

This however does not mean that all welfare schemes are useless or that the state should stop planning for social justice. It means that schemes require honest design transparent execution strong social audits active role of local communities and strict punishment for corruption. Information should be open for verification. Independent institutions should have the courage to expose failures. Media should question numbers instead of chanting slogans. Only then can a welfare scheme become a true instrument of change rather than another episode in a long series of scams.

Until that day arrives the statement every scheme by the government is a scam will continue to echo across the nation. It is not an attack on the idea of welfare. It is a warning that welfare without integrity becomes deception and deception funded by public money is the biggest scam of all.

 

Author introduction

The author is Siddhartha Shankar Mishra an advocate at the Supreme Court of India who writes on law governance and social justice with a focus on accountability of state power and the lived realities of citizens.

Bhagat Singh chose the gallows, Savarkar chose the petition

 

Bhagat Singh and Savarkar: The Gallows, The Petition, and the Two Paths of Freedom

 

Bhagat Singh chose the gallows, Savarkar chose the petition

Indian history brings together many brave figures, but few contrasts are as sharp as the one between Bhagat Singh, Vinayak Savarkar, and Mahatma Gandhi. All three opposed colonial rule, all three were imprisoned, all three shaped the political imagination of India. Yet the British treated each of them in dramatically different ways. Savarkar was transported to the Andaman Cellular Jail under the belief that he could be broken and controlled. Bhagat Singh was denied the option of transportation because the British feared that he would become unstoppable if he lived. Gandhi was never even considered for the Andamans because the British believed that his presence among political prisoners in a remote island would strengthen resistance, not weaken it. The empire made a different calculation for each man based on fear, strategy, and political consequence.

The story begins with Savarkar, one of the earliest revolutionaries associated with armed revolt against British rule. His writings and speeches encouraged violence, bomb making, and militant resistance. His association with Dhingra, who assassinated Curzon Wyllie in London, brought him under direct scrutiny. When Savarkar was arrested and sentenced to two life terms, the British believed that transportation to the Andamans would separate him from political activity and break the organisational chain that connected Indian revolutionaries in Europe and India.

Inside the Cellular Jail, Savarkar faced harsh punishment. The regime was brutal, with solitary confinement, hand driven oil mills, flogging, poor food, and complete communication blackout. Many prisoners collapsed mentally and physically under these conditions. Savarkar wrote multiple petitions to the British government asking for mercy, remission, or conditional release. In these petitions he offered to give up political activity, promised loyalty and good behaviour, and stated that he would follow the guidance of the government. These documents remain preserved in the archives and reveal a shift in tone and strategy.

The British examined these petitions carefully. They concluded that Savarkar was someone who could be managed. A man who sought release through repeated requests and promises was not a man who would continue armed revolution upon freedom. When he was finally removed from the Andamans and placed under strict restrictions in Ratnagiri, he accepted the conditions. His speeches were banned, his travel restricted, and his political activity suspended. The empire got exactly what it wanted. A revolutionary turned into a contained figure.

In complete contrast stood Bhagat Singh. He began his political journey as a revolutionary but soon became a philosopher of liberation. He read Marx, Lenin, Tolstoy, and European political thinkers with intense focus. He saw Indian independence not as a simple transfer of power but as a deeper social transformation which required the liberation of workers, peasants, and oppressed communities. His writings in jail displayed remarkable intellectual maturity and moral courage.

The British did not fear Bhagat Singh merely because he used violence. They feared him because he represented a new kind of revolutionary mind. When he launched a hunger strike for the rights of political prisoners, he became the most influential youth leader in the country. His fast lasted more than sixty days. Students held protests in Lahore, Delhi, and Calcutta. Labour groups organised marches in Bombay. Gandhi and Nehru spoke about him. The entire nation watched the struggle of one man inside a prison cell.

This changed everything for the British. A man who controls the political temperature of a subcontinent from inside jail becomes dangerous beyond measure. Transportation to the Andamans would not destroy Bhagat Singh. It would strengthen his legend. He would become a teacher to all political prisoners. His ideas would spread with even greater force. The empire had already witnessed how Irish revolutionaries turned prisons into political schools. It was not willing to repeat the same mistake in India.

Therefore, the British created a special tribunal for the Lahore Conspiracy Case through an extraordinary ordinance. This tribunal removed the right of appeal and ensured a fast conviction. Its purpose was simple. It blocked every legal pathway that could lead to transportation. The British did not want Bhagat Singh in the Andamans. They wanted him dead. They believed only death could neutralise his influence. This is why the execution was carried out secretly at night, the bodies burned without ceremony, and the ashes thrown into a river. Even in death, the British feared the fire of his ideas.

Now we come to Gandhi, whose treatment by the British was entirely different from both. Gandhi led the largest non violent mass movement in the world. His campaigns paralysed British administration more effectively than any bomb or gun. Yet the British never sent him to the Andamans. The question is why.

Gandhi was not transported to the Andamans because the British feared that his presence there would inspire the other political prisoners. Gandhi had the rare ability to transform a prison into a moral battlefield. If Gandhi were placed in the Cellular Jail, he would turn the entire Andaman penal colony into a centre of civil resistance. His presence would unite political prisoners, strengthen their resolve, and attract global attention. The British did not want the world to see Gandhi working under brutal prison conditions. They did not want hunger strikes and civil disobedience from a remote island becoming an international embarrassment. The empire recognised that Gandhi’s real power was moral. They could jail him in mainland prisons because it allowed them to manage public perception. But placing Gandhi in an island prison surrounded by torture would damage the imperial image beyond repair.

There was another reason. Gandhi did not believe in violent overthrow of the state. He did not run secret societies or armed groups. His philosophy of non violence allowed the British to manage him through conventional imprisonment. He could be jailed in Yerwada or Poona without creating a revolutionary storm inside an isolated jail. The British believed they could negotiate with Gandhi, postpone his campaigns, and use dialogue to reduce tension. None of this was possible with Bhagat Singh.

Therefore, Gandhi was always jailed within India. The British calculated that Gandhi’s politics, though powerful, could be contained by time bound imprisonment within mainland jails. But sending him to the Andamans would have created a martyr even more powerful than Bhagat Singh.

These three men demonstrate the three ways the British responded to political danger. Savarkar was transported because he could be broken and neutralised. Gandhi was kept in mainland prisons because his influence depended on public visibility and the empire could manage the optics. Bhagat Singh was executed because no prison, no island, and no negotiation could contain his ideas.

Bhagat Singh refused compromise. Savarkar accepted compromise. Gandhi negotiated but never surrendered his principles. The British understood these differences with clarity. Savarkar was the prisoner they could manage. Gandhi was the leader they could imprison but not silence. Bhagat Singh was the mind they could not afford to let live.

Bhagat Singh chose the gallows. Savarkar chose the petition. Gandhi chose the path of resistance through suffering. Each man created a different legacy, but history remembers who bowed and who stood firm. The empire calculated its moves based on fear. And the man they feared the most was the young revolutionary who embraced death with calm dignity.

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Author Introduction
Siddhartha Shankar Mishra is an Advocate in the Supreme Court of India. He writes on history, politics, law, and society. Email id: ssmishra33@gmail.com

References
Lahore Conspiracy Case Records
British Government Ordinance for Special Tribunal, 1930
Collected Works of Bhagat Singh
Jail Notes of Bhagat Singh
National Archives of India documents on Savarkar
Cellular Jail Records and Petitions of Savarkar
Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi
British India Home Department Prison Records