RSS : - FROM SHAKHAS TO STREETS: WHEN IDEOLOGY BECOMES MOBILISATION

 

Riots Are Not Accidents What Official Records, Courts and Commissions Have Said

Communal violence in India is often explained away as emotional overflow or administrative failure. Yet across decades, official commissions, statutory bodies, police records and courts have documented patterns of organised mobilisation, ideological conditioning and political confidence. While criminal law fixes guilt on individuals, institutional and ideological responsibility has been repeatedly recorded by inquiry bodies.

What follows is not opinion. It is a compilation of direct commission quotes, court citations and recorded allegations, presented as part of public record.

 

DIRECT COMMISSION QUOTES

Liberhan Commission (Babri Masjid 1992)

“The demolition of the disputed structure was the result of a concerted and planned action of the Sangh Parivar… including the RSS, VHP and BJP. None of this could have been achieved without the organisational support and mobilisation of these bodies.”

Another key finding:

“The RSS was not a marginal presence. It was central to the planning, coordination and execution of the programme leading to 6 December 1992.”

 

Srikrishna Commission

“There is no doubt that the Shiv Sena and Hindu communal organisations were responsible for the second phase of the riots.”

While RSS was not named as the primary actor, the Commission noted:

“The role of Hindu communal organisations with ideological affinity cannot be ignored in the spread and perpetuation of violence.”

 

Justice D P Madon Commission

“Members of the RSS actively participated in inciting passions and organising Hindu mobs.”

 

Concerned Citizens Tribunal (Justice V R Krishna Iyer)

“The violence was not spontaneous. It was organised, planned and executed with the active participation of Sangh Parivar organisations, including the RSS.”

 

National Human Rights Commission on Gujarat 2002

“There was a systemic failure of the State to protect citizens, and evidence suggests organised groups were allowed to operate with impunity.”

 

SUPREME COURT AND HIGH COURT CASE CITATIONS

Nathuram Godse Background

Gopal Godse v Union of India, Bombay HC (1961)
Court noted ideological proximity of Gandhi’s assassins with Hindu extremist thought, though not convicting RSS as an institution.

This judicial observation recognised ideological radicalisation even while fixing criminal guilt only on individuals.

 

Babri Masjid Cases

M S Golwalkar v Union of India is not a case
Relevant cases are:

• Dr M Ismail Faruqui v Union of India, (1994) 6 SCC 360
• CBI v Kalyan Singh, (2017) 7 SCC 444
• L K Advani v CBI, (2017) 7 SCC 453

The Supreme Court acknowledged organised mobilisation leading to demolition.

In CBI v Kalyan Singh and L K Advani v CBI, the Court restored conspiracy charges and rejected the argument that demolition occurred due to sudden emotional frenzy or administrative helplessness.

 

 

Gujarat 2002

National Human Rights Commission v State of Gujarat, (2009) 6 SCC 767

The Supreme Court described Gujarat riots as a case of “modern day Neros” watching while people burned.

The Court transferred trials outside Gujarat, citing failure of rule of law and risk to fair trial.

 

Delhi Riots 2020

State of NCT of Delhi v Tahir Hussain, Delhi HC 2021

Court discussed organised mobilisation and conspiracy, while emphasising individual criminal liability.

While trials are ongoing, judicial observations again rejected protest gone wrong explanations in certain areas.

 

KEY INCIDENTS AND ALLEGATIONS

1. Mahatma Gandhi Assassination

After Gandhi’s assassination, the Government of India banned the RSS. Home Ministry records cited a climate of hatred and militant propaganda.
While Nathuram Godse had left RSS formally, the Kapoor Commission later recorded ideological proximity.

 

2. Jabalpur Riots

Justice D P Madon Commission observed organised mobilisation and role of Hindu communal groups, including RSS workers, in inciting violence.

 

3. Meerut Riots

Fact finding reports documented coordinated rumour spreading and mobilisation by Hindu and Muslim organisations. RSS linked outfits were named among Hindu groups active on the ground.

 

 

4. Babri Masjid Demolition

The Liberhan Commission squarely blamed the RSS, VHP, BJP leadership for systematic planning and mobilisation leading to demolition and nationwide riots.

 

5. Mumbai Riots

The Srikrishna Commission found that Shiv Sena and Hindu communal organisations, with ideological overlap with Sangh Parivar, played a leading role in violence.

 

6. Gujarat Riots

The Concerned Citizens Tribunal, NHRC, and several journalists recorded RSS shakhas and VHP networks being used for logistics, mobilisation, and targeting.
Courts convicted individuals but not the organisation.

 

7. Muzaffarnagar Riots

Police records and media reports noted organised mobilisation, provocative speeches, and circulation of fake videos by Hindu nationalist groups linked to the Sangh ecosystem.

 

8. Delhi Riots

Independent investigations and charge sheets alleged ideological mobilisation and street level coordination by individuals associated with Hindu nationalist groups. Cases remain contested in courts.

 

LEGAL POSITION CLARIFIED

No Indian court has convicted RSS as an organisation
Multiple commissions have recorded its ideological and organisational role
Criminal law fixes individual guilt, not ideological guilt
Commissions expose patterns that courts cannot ignore but are not punitive

This distinction is fundamental to understanding how institutional accountability escapes judicial punishment while remaining documented in public record.

 

 

WHY DENIAL FAILS

Organisations routinely rely on technical legality to deny responsibility. But constitutional morality is not limited to courtroom acquittals. When ideological ecosystems repeatedly appear across decades of violence, denial becomes political strategy rather than factual rebuttal.

Silence after riots, absence of internal disciplinary processes, and political rehabilitation of accused individuals convert plausible deniability into moral endorsement.

Courts punish crimes. History judges systems.

 

CONCLUSION

From Gandhi’s assassination to Delhi 2020, official records repeatedly challenge the myth of spontaneous riots. They document organised mobilisation, ideological conditioning, political silence and confidence of impunity.

No Indian court has convicted RSS as an organisation
Multiple commissions have recorded its ideological and organisational role
Criminal law fixes individual guilt, not ideological guilt
Commissions expose patterns that courts cannot ignore but are not punitive

Denial does not erase this record.
Legal acquittal does not mean moral innocence.
History will not read only judgments. It will read patterns.

Accountability is not hatred. It is democracy’s last defence.

 

REFERENCES

Commissions and Tribunals

1. Liberhan Commission of Inquiry Report (2009), Ministry of Home Affairs, Government of India
   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liberhan_Commission
2. Justice B N Srikrishna Commission Report (1998), Government of Maharashtra
   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Srikrishna_Commission
3. Justice D P Madon Commission Report (1962), Government of Madhya Pradesh
   https://www.mha.gov.in/en/documents/commissions-inquiry
4. Concerned Citizens Tribunal on Gujarat 2002, Crime Against Humanity, chaired by Justice V R Krishna Iyer
   https://cjp.org.in/concerned-citizens-tribunal/
5. National Human Rights Commission Proceedings on Gujarat Riots (2002)
   https://nhrc.nic.in/

---

Supreme Court and High Court Judgments

6. Gopal Godse v Union of India, Bombay High Court, 1961
   https://indiankanoon.org/doc/1783372/
7. Dr M Ismail Faruqui v Union of India, (1994) 6 SCC 360
   https://indiankanoon.org/doc/1570821/
8. CBI v Kalyan Singh, (2017) 7 SCC 444
   https://indiankanoon.org/doc/196014248/
9. L K Advani v CBI, (2017) 7 SCC 453
   https://indiankanoon.org/doc/100876344/
10. National Human Rights Commission v State of Gujarat, (2009) 6 SCC 767
    https://indiankanoon.org/doc/1858682/
11. State of NCT of Delhi v Tahir Hussain, Delhi High Court, 2021
    https://indiankanoon.org/doc/138984876/

 

Historical Inquiry

12. Justice J L Kapur Commission Report on Gandhi Assassination (1969)
    https://www.mha.gov.in/en/documents/gandhi-assassination-report

 

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.

 

RSS and the Indian National Flag: History, Ideology and the Continuing Controversy - Part II

 

Did Nehru Prevent the RSS from Hoisting the Tricolour?

One of the most common arguments advanced by RSS supporters is that before 2002 private organisations were not permitted to hoist the National Flag, and therefore the RSS cannot be criticised for not displaying the Tricolour at its headquarters. Some political narratives go a step further by suggesting that Jawaharlal Nehru's government prevented the RSS from hoisting the National Flag.

The historical record, however, does not support this claim.

Before 2002, the display of the National Flag was indeed regulated by executive instructions contained in the Flag Code of India. These rules limited the unrestricted daily display of the National Flag by private citizens and organisations. However, they did not prohibit patriotic observance of Independence Day or Republic Day, nor did they prevent any organisation from recognising or respecting the National Flag adopted by the Constituent Assembly.

More importantly, the controversy surrounding the RSS is not fundamentally about the legal ability to hoist the Tricolour. It concerns the organisation's own published ideological writings during the years immediately following Independence.

No documentary evidence has been produced to show that Jawaharlal Nehru specifically prohibited the RSS from hoisting the National Flag. The criticism contained in the Organiser editorial of 14 August 1947 and Golwalkar's later writings preceded subsequent political explanations and therefore constitute primary historical evidence.

RSS Headquarters and the Tricolour

Historical records indicate that the National Flag was hoisted at the RSS headquarters in Nagpur on 15 August 1947 and 26 January 1950. Thereafter, it was not routinely hoisted for many decades until 26 January 2002.

Critics argue that this long absence reflected the organisation's ideological preference for the Bhagwa Dhwaj.

The RSS disputes this interpretation. It maintains that the Bhagwa Dhwaj has always been its organisational symbol while the Tricolour is the National Flag deserving of full respect. According to RSS leaders, the controversy has been exaggerated by political opponents and ignores the legal framework that governed display of the National Flag before 2002.

The truth is that both facts can coexist. The legal restrictions existed. Equally, the documented criticism of the Tricolour by early RSS publications also existed. Serious historical analysis requires acknowledging both rather than selectively accepting one and ignoring the other.

The Naveen Jindal Judgment

A significant legal development occurred in Union of India v. Naveen Jindal (2004).

The Supreme Court held that flying the National Flag with dignity and respect forms part of the freedom of expression guaranteed under Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution, subject to reasonable restrictions and compliance with the Flag Code.

The judgment affirmed that the National Flag belongs to every citizen and is not the exclusive property of the State.

The Government subsequently liberalised the Flag Code, making it easier for citizens and private organisations to display the National Flag throughout the year while maintaining dignity and respect.

Although this judgment changed the legal position regarding everyday display of the Tricolour, it did not alter the historical record concerning debates that occurred in 1947.

The RSS Today

The RSS today publicly declares its respect for the Indian National Flag and the Constitution. It has actively participated in national campaigns such as Har Ghar Tiranga and has repeatedly stated that the Bhagwa Dhwaj is a cultural and organisational symbol rather than a substitute for the National Flag.

This represents the organisation's present position.

However, historical scholarship distinguishes between contemporary positions and historical evidence. The writings published in 1947 and Golwalkar's observations remain part of India's documented political history. A change in position over time does not erase earlier ideological debates.

History Should Not Be Selective

The controversy surrounding the RSS and the National Flag illustrates a broader principle.

History cannot be rewritten according to present political convenience.

If an organisation evolves, that evolution should be acknowledged. Likewise, its earlier positions should neither be denied nor forgotten.

The documentary evidence demonstrates that important voices within the RSS expressed dissatisfaction with the Tricolour during the formative years of the Republic. At the same time, the RSS today accepts and publicly honours the National Flag.

Both facts belong to history.

A mature democracy should be confident enough to confront historical disagreements without distortion. Patriotism is strengthened not by suppressing evidence but by engaging honestly with it.

The National Flag belongs equally to every Indian regardless of ideology, religion or political affiliation. It derives its legitimacy not from any organisation but from the Constitution and the collective will of the people expressed through the Constituent Assembly.

 

Footnotes and References

·  Constituent Assembly Debates (22 July 1947) – adoption of the National Flag.

·  Organiser, 14 August 1947 – the editorial on the Tricolour.

·  M. S. Golwalkar, Bunch of Thoughts – relevant passages on the National Flag and the Bhagwa Dhwaj.

·  M. S. Golwalkar, Shri Guruji Samagra Darshan (where relevant).

·  Flag Code of India (pre-2002 and post-2002).

·  Union of India v. Naveen Jindal, (2004) 2 SCC 510.

·  Constituent Assembly Debates on the National Flag Resolution.

·  MHA notifications on amendments to the Flag Code.

 About the Author

Adv. Siddhartha Shankar Mishra is an Advocate, Supreme Court of India, columnist and freelance writer.

 

RSS and the Indian National Flag: History, Ideology and the Continuing Controversy Part I

 

The Indian National Flag is more than a symbol of sovereignty. It represents the ideals of the freedom movement, constitutional democracy, and the unity of an extraordinarily diverse nation. Yet, few aspects of modern Indian history remain as politically contested as the relationship between the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) and the Tricolour. While the RSS today publicly honours the National Flag and actively participates in campaigns such as Har Ghar Tiranga, its historical relationship with the Tricolour has been the subject of continuing debate. The controversy stems not from political rhetoric alone but from documented writings, editorials, and historical records dating back to the years surrounding India's independence.

The Birth of the Tricolour

India's National Flag did not emerge overnight. Several versions of a national flag were proposed during the freedom struggle. The design that eventually became the National Flag was based on the flag designed by Pingali Venkayya and was modified by replacing the spinning wheel with the Ashoka Chakra.

On 22 July 1947, the Constituent Assembly formally adopted the Tricolour as the National Flag of independent India. Presenting the resolution, Jawaharlal Nehru described the flag as a symbol that belonged not to any religion, political party or community but to the entire nation. Members of the Assembly, including Dr. Rajendra Prasad, Dr. B. R. Ambedkar, Sarojini Naidu and others, supported its adoption. The Tricolour thus became a constitutional symbol accepted by representatives from across India's political and ideological spectrum.

The RSS and the Bhagwa Dhwaj

The RSS, founded in 1925 by Dr. K. B. Hedgewar, had long regarded the Bhagwa Dhwaj (Saffron Flag) as its organisational and cultural emblem. According to RSS ideology, the saffron flag represented sacrifice, renunciation, courage and India's ancient civilisational heritage. Even today, the Bhagwa Dhwaj occupies a central place in RSS functions.

The organisation's reverence for the saffron flag, however, became controversial when India adopted the Tricolour as its National Flag. Critics argued that the RSS's attachment to the Bhagwa Dhwaj reflected an unwillingness to fully embrace the Tricolour as the symbol of the newly independent Republic. RSS supporters, on the other hand, maintain that the Bhagwa Dhwaj was never intended to replace the National Flag but was merely the organisation's cultural emblem.

The Organiser Editorial of 14 August 1947

One of the principal sources of controversy is the RSS-linked weekly Organiser. In its edition dated 14 August 1947, published a day before Independence, the newspaper criticised the adoption of the Tricolour. The editorial argued that the three-coloured flag lacked the historical and cultural significance of the saffron flag and suggested that it would not command the same emotional respect among Hindus.

This editorial has frequently been cited by historians and political commentators as evidence that sections of the RSS were uncomfortable with the National Flag adopted by the Constituent Assembly. The editorial remains one of the most important documentary sources in this debate because it reflects a contemporary viewpoint expressed at the very moment India attained independence.

Golwalkar's Critique

The controversy was further reinforced by the writings of Madhav Sadashiv Golwalkar, the second Sarsanghchalak of the RSS and one of its principal ideologues.

In Bunch of Thoughts, Golwalkar questioned why independent India had adopted a new National Flag instead of what he regarded as the traditional saffron banner. He described the adoption of the new flag as an act of "drifting and imitating," suggesting that India's leaders had abandoned an indigenous civilisational symbol in favour of a modern political creation.

Although RSS supporters argue that Golwalkar was expressing a cultural preference rather than rejecting the National Flag itself, critics contend that his remarks reveal an ideological discomfort with the Tricolour that cannot be ignored.

Golwalkar's writings continue to occupy a central place in discussions about the RSS because they shaped the organisation's intellectual outlook for decades after Independence.

Did the RSS Reject the Tricolour?

This question requires careful historical analysis. It would be inaccurate to claim that the RSS legally rejected the National Flag or declared it invalid. Equally, it would be misleading to ignore the documented criticism contained in Organiser and Golwalkar's writings.

Historical evidence shows that the RSS's relationship with the Tricolour was, at the very least, uneasy during the years immediately following Independence. Whether this amounted to outright rejection or ideological preference for another symbol remains a matter of interpretation. However, the documentary record leaves little doubt that the organisation did not initially embrace the Tricolour with the enthusiasm shown by most participants in the freedom movement.

This distinction is important because history should be judged by contemporaneous evidence rather than later political explanations. The debate is therefore not merely about who hoisted a flag or when; it is about the ideological meaning attached to national symbols during one of the most significant moments in India's history.

Part II will examine the claim that Jawaharlal Nehru prevented the RSS from hoisting the National Flag, the legal position before and after the Flag Code of 2002, the Supreme Court's decision in the Naveen Jindal case, the RSS's later position, and conclude with detailed footnotes and references.

About the Author

Adv. Siddhartha Shankar Mishra is an Advocate, Supreme Court of India, columnist and freelance writer.

 

 

Gen Z: The Generation Betrayed by Education

 

 

India stands at a peculiar crossroads where its youngest citizens are the most connected in history, yet many are the least anchored in thought. Gen Z, often celebrated as digital natives, is growing up in an ecosystem where access to information is mistaken for education, and expression is confused with understanding. What appears as empowerment on the surface often conceals a deeper intellectual fragility.

Education was once imagined as a slow and uncomfortable process. It demanded patience, discipline, and above all, the courage to question. It was not designed to comfort beliefs but to challenge them. Today, that essence is quietly eroding. The classroom is no longer the sole site of learning. In fact, for many, it has become secondary to a far more influential and unregulated space, the digital sphere.

Platforms like WhatsApp, short video applications, and algorithm driven feeds have assumed the role of informal educators. They deliver content at a pace that leaves no room for reflection. Complex realities are reduced to catchy slogans, historical narratives are repackaged into convenient distortions, and ideological positions are presented as unquestionable truths. In such a landscape, the ability to pause, verify, and think critically becomes almost an act of resistance.

For a vast section of Indian youth, this is not merely a shift in medium but a replacement of substance. Many are first generation learners or come from economically strained backgrounds where quality education remains elusive. Schools often lack resources, teachers are overburdened, and the curriculum is detached from lived realities. In such circumstances, digital content becomes the primary source of knowledge, not because it is reliable, but because it is available.

This creates a dangerous asymmetry. On one hand, there is a generation exposed to an overwhelming volume of information. On the other, there is a glaring absence of the tools required to interpret that information. The result is not enlightenment but confusion. Narratives that are emotionally charged and politically convenient find easy acceptance, while nuanced and evidence based discussions struggle to survive.

It is in this vacuum that blame is carefully manufactured and distributed. Instead of encouraging young minds to interrogate systems of inequality, economic concentration, and governance failures, attention is diverted towards simplistic explanations. A struggling household is told that its condition is the result of a particular community rather than structural neglect. Anger is cultivated, but it is directed away from those who wield real power. This is not accidental. It is a design that thrives on distraction.

At the same time, there exists another India within the same generation. Urban, educated, and globally connected, this segment appears to have access to better institutions and opportunities. Yet here too, the crisis is only subtler. Education is increasingly reduced to a transaction. Degrees are pursued as tickets to employment, not as instruments of understanding. The question is no longer what one learns, but what one earns.

This utilitarian approach strips education of its moral and intellectual depth. Students become skilled, but not necessarily thoughtful. They are trained to perform tasks, but not to question assumptions. Success is measured in placements and packages, while curiosity and critical engagement are treated as luxuries. In chasing efficiency, the system quietly abandons wisdom.

The consequences of this dual failure are profound. One part of the generation is deprived of meaningful education altogether, while another is processed through a system that values output over insight. Both are left vulnerable in different ways. One is easily manipulated, the other easily disengaged.

What binds them, however, is a shared distance from the true purpose of learning. Education, at its core, is meant to liberate. It enables individuals to see beyond immediate realities, to connect personal experiences with larger structures, and to resist narratives that seek to confine thought. When education fails, it does not merely produce ignorance. It produces compliance.

The signs of this compliance are visible everywhere. Debates are replaced by shouting matches. Loyalty is valued more than reasoning. Doubt is treated as disloyalty. The space for disagreement shrinks, and with it, the possibility of growth. A generation that should have been the most questioning risks becoming the most conditioned.

Yet, this is not an irreversible condition. The potential of Gen Z remains immense. What is required is a reimagining of education itself. Schools and universities must move beyond rote learning and standardized testing. They must create spaces where questioning is encouraged, where multiple perspectives are explored, and where students are taught to engage with complexity rather than avoid it.

Equally important is the cultivation of media literacy. Young people must be equipped to navigate the digital world with discernment. They must learn to identify misinformation, to verify sources, and to understand the motivations behind the content they consume. Without this, the digital space will continue to function as a powerful tool of manipulation.

Families and communities too have a role to play. Conversations at home must go beyond survival and success to include ideas, values, and critical discussions. Curiosity must be nurtured, not dismissed. The habit of asking why must be protected, even when it is inconvenient.

Ultimately, the question is not whether Gen Z is capable of thinking deeply. It undoubtedly is. The real question is whether the systems surrounding it are willing to allow that depth to emerge. A generation cannot be blamed for the conditions it inherits, but it will be judged by how it responds to them.

If education continues to be hollowed out, the cost will not be borne by Gen Z alone. It will shape the trajectory of the nation. A society that discourages thought cannot sustain democracy, nor can it achieve genuine progress. The crisis of education, therefore, is not a sectoral issue. It is a civilizational one.

The choice before us is stark. We can continue to produce individuals who are informed but not insightful, connected but not conscious, expressive but not enlightened. Or we can reclaim education as a transformative force that empowers individuals to think, question, and act with awareness.

The ongoing NEET crisis is perhaps the clearest reflection of what Gen Z is confronting today. For millions of young Indians, education is no longer merely about learning. It has become a battle for survival. Repeated controversies surrounding examination integrity, demands for transparency, protests by students, and growing public distrust have shaken the confidence of an entire generation. What should have been a gateway to opportunity has instead become a source of anxiety, uncertainty, and anger. The controversy has triggered protests that have expanded beyond medical aspirants to include wider concerns about examination systems, recruitment, and accountability.

The demonstrations at Jantar Mantar are not simply about one examination. They represent a generation questioning whether merit alone is enough in a system they perceive as increasingly opaque. Students who spent years preparing have watched their futures become entangled in allegations of irregularities, administrative failures, and political arguments. The emotional toll is enormous because every examination represents years of sacrifice made not only by students but by entire families. Recent protests have drawn thousands of young people demanding reforms and greater accountability.

This is where the story of Gen Z changes. For years they were dismissed as a generation addicted to screens and distracted by social media. Yet the NEET movement has revealed another face of India's youth. When they believe institutions have failed them, they are willing to organise, protest, and demand accountability. Whether one agrees with every slogan or not, their mobilisation reflects a deeper concern about fairness, trust, and the future of education.

If India's education system cannot guarantee transparency, credibility, and equal opportunity, it risks producing not merely disappointed graduates but a generation that loses faith in public institutions themselves. That may be the greatest educational crisis of all.

The future of Gen Z, and indeed of India, depends on which path we choose.

 

Siddhartha Shankar Mishra is an advocate at the Supreme Court of India.

 

If Sanatan is Eternal, Why Did It Change? The Forgotten Mahabharata Challenge

 

One of the most powerful claims made in contemporary religious and political discourse is that "Sanatan Dharma" is eternal, unchanging, and timeless. The very word Sanatan means eternal. It evokes an image of an ancient truth that has remained constant across millennia, untouched by human intervention. But what happens when one turns to the scriptures themselves? Surprisingly, the Mahabharata offers a story that raises uncomfortable questions about this claim.

In the Adi Parva of the Mahabharata, we encounter the sage Uddalaka and his son Shvetaketu. The episode begins with a shocking incident. A Brahmin approaches and takes Shvetaketu's mother away by the hand in full view of her husband and son. The young Shvetaketu is enraged. To him, this is an intolerable violation of family and marital norms.

Yet his father Uddalaka responds calmly. He tells his son not to be angry because this practice is "Dharma Sanatana" or "Sanatan Dharma." He explains that in ancient times women were free and unrestricted, and such social arrangements were accepted. In other words, what Uddalaka called Sanatan Dharma was not a sacred scripture, a temple ritual, or a theological doctrine. It was a social custom that existed in a particular historical context.

The story becomes even more significant because Shvetaketu refuses to accept his father's explanation. He rejects the custom and establishes a new social code governing relations between men and women. The Mahabharata explicitly states that he created a new maryada, a new social boundary and norm.

This raises an obvious question. If the practice described by Uddalaka was truly Sanatan, how could it be abolished by the next generation? If it was eternal, how could it cease to exist?

The answer may be that the concept of dharma in ancient India was never as rigid as modern interpretations often suggest. Dharma was not merely a fixed set of commandments. It was a living principle that adapted to circumstances, communities, and changing social realities. Different texts present different duties for different ages. What was considered appropriate in one era could be modified or discarded in another.

The history of the Indian subcontinent itself demonstrates this constant evolution. Vedic sacrifices gave way to philosophical inquiry in the Upanishads. The rise of Buddhism and Jainism challenged existing religious assumptions. Bhakti movements questioned ritual hierarchies and opened spiritual paths to ordinary people. Reformers from Basava to Kabir, from Nanak to Ambedkar, challenged inherited traditions and demanded change.

Even practices once defended in the name of religion have disappeared or been transformed. Child marriage, untouchability, restrictions on widow remarriage, and numerous caste based customs have all faced criticism and reform. Society changed because human beings changed. Moral understanding evolved. Laws evolved. Institutions evolved.

The story of Uddalaka and Shvetaketu therefore reveals something profound. The real history of Indian civilization is not the history of an unchanging order. It is the history of debate, dissent, adaptation, and reinvention. Every generation has interpreted inherited traditions in the light of its own values and circumstances.

This does not necessarily diminish the significance of Sanatan Dharma. Instead, it suggests that its endurance may lie not in rigidity but in its capacity to evolve. The Mahabharata itself records a moment when a son challenged a tradition that his father called eternal and successfully replaced it with a new norm.

Perhaps the greatest lesson of the episode is that no social arrangement becomes sacred merely by being old. Traditions survive not because they are ancient, but because each generation finds meaning in them. What is called Sanatan may therefore be less about permanence and more about continuity through change.

The Mahabharata's forgotten story leaves us with a provocative conclusion: what remains eternal is not any single social custom, but the human capacity to question, reform, and redefine the meaning of dharma itself.

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.

 

WhatsApp University And The Manufacture Of The Indian Mind: From Forwarded Myths To Political Power

 

In the last decade, India has witnessed the rise of a parallel education system that has no classrooms, no teachers, no textbooks and no accountability. It thrives on half knowledge, distorted facts, emotional manipulation and the speed of virality. This ecosystem is what we now call “WhatsApp University” the vast factory of forwarded messages that shapes the political mindscape of millions, including people who otherwise appear educated or intellectually trained. It is not an accident. It is a product of deliberate political engineering, emotional anxieties, and a deep cultural vulnerability to simplified narratives.

The origins of WhatsApp University lie in the early 2010s when cheap smartphones and affordable data merged with growing political polarisation. The platform was perfect for ideological mobilisation because it offered privacy, speed and amplification without scrutiny. Unlike Facebook or Twitter which were public and therefore contestable, WhatsApp’s closed groups allowed selective feeding of information. This meant lies could be circulated without challenge, prejudice could be reinforced without debate, and hate could be legitimised without consequence.

Its true expansion began around the 2014 general elections. Political groups especially the BJP IT Cell realised the enormous potential of micro targeting. Thousands of volunteers were trained to craft messages that blended religion, nationalism, half history and conspiracy theories. These were not mere forwards. They were psychological tools designed to bypass reasoning and activate emotion. A rumour about cows, a fake quote attributed to Nehru, a photoshopped image of a Muslim mob, or a fabricated piece of colonial history all travelled through WhatsApp with the same authority as verified news. Over time, the forward became more powerful than the fact.

The success of WhatsApp University rests on four pillars. The first is fear. Fear of the other, fear of losing identity, fear of imagined threats. Communal rumours, especially against minorities, spread like wildfire because fear makes people less rational and more reactive. The second is nostalgia. Messages claim India was once a land of perfect harmony, scientific glory and divine wisdom until modern politics ruined it. This sentimental mythmaking blinds people to evidence. The third is resentment. Many forwards stir anger against liberals, intellectuals, journalists and opposition leaders by portraying them as corrupt enemies who betrayed the nation. The fourth is simplification. Complex issues like economy, unemployment, inflation, constitutional rights or federalism are reduced to slogans that require no thinking.

But why do even intellectuals fall for this? Not because they lack education but because they are human. Confirmation bias is universal. People like to believe information that strengthens their existing worldview. WhatsApp University gives instant ideological gratification. It offers ready made arguments that save the effort of reading, analysing or questioning. It also creates a sense of belonging. Being part of a group that constantly forwards patriotic messages or religious warnings gives the illusion of community and purpose. Many professionals doctors, engineers, lawyers, bureaucrats find comfort in these echo chambers where identity is reaffirmed and doubt is unwelcome.

The ecosystem also works because traditional institutions of knowledge have weakened. Schools rarely teach critical thinking. Universities have become battlegrounds of partisan politics. Television debates reward shouting, not scholarship. Print journalism is shrinking. In this vacuum, WhatsApp steps in as the default educator. It replaces textbooks with images, research with rhetoric, and inquiry with emotion. The more people scroll, the less they question.

WhatsApp University is not just a cultural phenomenon. It has become a political weapon. Elections today are shaped as much by WhatsApp groups as by rallies. Before every major poll, there is a surge of targeted misinformation. Fake economic statistics, communal stories, edited videos, invented achievements, and doctored speeches are pumped into millions of groups simultaneously. By the time fact checkers intervene, the psychological impact has already registered.

The 2019 elections demonstrated the height of this strategy. Local WhatsApp groups in villages and cities functioned as command centres of message dissemination. Thousands of customised narratives were produced for different castes, regions and professions. A person in Uttar Pradesh got caste based propaganda, someone in Kerala received religious warnings, someone in Gujarat received economic mythmaking. The same pattern continues today with greater sophistication. Artificial intelligence has now joined the business of misinformation, making deepfakes more convincing and lies more difficult to identify.

But WhatsApp University does more than win elections. It restructures the moral compass of society. It normalises hatred by presenting it as nationalism. It justifies violence by calling it self defence. It erodes faith in institutions by portraying courts, media, NGOs and scholars as enemies of the nation. It weakens democratic debate by turning every disagreement into a battle between patriots and traitors. Most dangerously, it manufactures consent for authoritarian politics. When citizens are conditioned to believe that dissent equals anti national behaviour, they willingly accept repression as discipline.

The impact is visible in everyday life. People forward communal rumours without hesitation but hesitate to question the government. They circulate unverified medical cures but distrust scientific guidelines. They share conspiracy theories about history but ignore archival records. They condemn minorities without knowing their neighbours. WhatsApp University has created a nation that reacts faster than it thinks, judges quicker than it learns, and hates more easily than it understands.

Has this ecosystem peaked? No. It is now institutionally entrenched. Political parties maintain full fledged digital armies. Religious groups use WhatsApp to spread doctrinal messages. Corporate interests use it for marketing disguised as nationalism. Even local disputes are settled through digital intimidation. The line between truth and fiction has blurred so deeply that many people no longer care which is which. What matters is emotional satisfaction, not factual accuracy.

Yet, hope lies in awareness. Increasingly, some citizens are questioning forwards, exiting toxic groups and demanding verification. Fact checking initiatives are becoming stronger. Courts and election bodies are slowly acknowledging the threat. But the real resistance must come from society itself. Each citizen must learn to pause before forwarding, to ask “Is this true”, to value knowledge over sensation, and to accept that patriotism does not require gullibility.

WhatsApp University will collapse the day we choose thinking over forwarding. Until then, democracy will continue to be shaped not by informed debate but by the speed of ignorance.

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.