CITIZENS, NOT SUBJECTS: RECLAIMING IT AMID ORCHESTRATED POLARIZATION

       Breaking Boundaries, Building Unity in Diversity Through True Patriotism

 

India, with her vibrant diversity, is facing a storm of polarization. Political lines are sharper, religious rhetoric rings louder, and divisions with rising religious fundamentalism seem forced into everyday life. In a country marked by rich diversity, yet torn by deep fault-lines of religion, caste and politics, the call to genuine patriotism and responsible citizenship has never been more urgent. Respectful religious dialogue must be championed—especially by those in power. Grassroots unity remains elusive amid institutional compromise and centralization. The nation needs role models of citizenship that transcend caste, creed, and political loyalties. Patriotism must be rooted in values, not birthplace; talent must rise above religious identity. Only inclusive civic engagement can preserve India's pluralism and foster peace, growth, and brotherhood. Today’s India demands citizens who rise above sectarian divides. Who respect religious dialogue. Who embrace the full sweep of the Indian-idea—unity through diversity. Especially when polarization and fundamentalism threaten to hollow out the social fabric.

Landscape of Division

Dialogue and respect—two foundation stones of democracy—often get missing from public discourse. Instead, what is heard are accusations, threats, and the silencing of dissent. Political polarization is not new in India. But under the present regime, it has grown more orchestrated, more calculated. The ruling dispensation is driven by identity politics, selective majoritarian memory-making, and a narrowing of what “India” means. This frames patriotism in dangerously exclusionary terms.

Major central institutions—judiciary, media, investigative agencies—once pillars of democracy, now find themselves under shadows. Critics argue many have lost independence, bought off or pressured to toe the ruling regime’s line. Laws pass without debate. Parliament sessions have gotten shorter. Investigations appear politically motivated. For many, democracy looks less like open exchange, more like staged events.

In this environment, religious dialogue becomes not a luxury but a moral imperative. If leaders of the current government heed nothing else, they must hear this: genuine patriotism recognizes the Other. Citizenship recognizes equal dignity for every community. Local-level peace, grassroots unity, must begin with ordinary citizens. But in many places that remains a pipe-dream. Why? Because the central bureaucracy, regulatory institutions, oversight agencies have been brought to heel. Autonomous voices are dwindling. Checks and balances muted. The result: local grievances fester, local minorities feel unprotected, local democracy erodes.

Take employment and livelihoods. The economy may show growth—but that growth has not trickled down uniformly. The International Labour Organization and Institute for Human Development find that India’s youth make up nearly 83 % of the jobless. Religious minorities have seen rising unemployment rates in 2023-24 (Business Standard, Nov. 04, 2025). This compounds the sense of exclusion for large sections of the citizenry. Hence, patriotism cannot mean celebrating big numbers while ignoring jobless youth. Citizenship cannot mean waving flags while neglecting fundamental rights. Real India-unity must embrace economic justice and social dignity.

Citizenship: Beyond Rituals, Beyond Religion

Yet, in these testing times, the idea of India shines through the acts of ordinary and extraordinary people. True patriotism is not shrill; it is compassionate and constructive. It is found on local streets, inside humble homes, and at crowded stadiums. India needs living models of citizenship—people who uphold unity through action, not allegiance to religious or caste labels. When we speak of united citizens for a united India, we need to move beyond slogans. We must ask: Who is the citizen? What does it mean to love one’s country? In the present climate, these questions are urgent.

Citizens across religions, regions, and languages have built and defended this nation. Their stories of courage and brotherhood are what will keep India strong and united. For example, many Christians have made a deep mark on the social, cultural, and literary life of India as a whole. Though small in number, Christians have remained active, united, and influential far beyond their size. Unfortunately, political and religious biases have sometimes twisted history, hiding the positive role Christianity has played. These distortions have also fueled attitudes and actions that threaten the spirit of religious freedom guaranteed by India’s Constitution. This reflection seeks to highlight the real and constructive contributions of Christianity to the region’s social, cultural, and educational growth. Therefore, citizenship is not about birthplace alone. It is about participation, contribution, responsibility. A Tamil-Muslim doctor in Kolkata is as patriotic as a Punjabi-Hindu farmer in Punjab. A Christian schoolteacher in rural Andhra serves the Indian nation just as surely as a Hindu engineer in Bengaluru. Talent is not tied to religion. Patriotism is not measured by birthplace or demographic fixity.

True patriotism is not blind allegiance. It is a willing, critical love for the country — one that calls the nation beyond its failures, weaknesses and injustices. It is the kind of citizen who holds the government to account. Who demands independent institutions. Who affirms minority dignity, religious dialogue, constitutional values. We need more of those citizens: across caste, community, creed, rite. The kind who understands that diversity is India’s strength—not its weakness.

When Institutions Fail, Citizens Must Rise

True patriotism is service—helping wherever one lives, not outshouting others. Within India, labels persist. Competent officers are tagged by religion, not achievement. Politicians give incendiary speeches that threaten social harmony. The present regime has declared multiple “wars” of destruction and division— on livelihoods, on minorities, on truth, on independent institutions. It is a war not always shot with bullets, but one waged through policy, through silencing dissent, through monopolizing narrative.

War on livelihoods and the poor: Despite claims of high growth and job creation, the data tell a different story. Unemployment remains stubbornly high. Youth particularly are excluded. The gulf between elite growth and mass stagnation widens. Income inequality grows—the poorest 20% saw their earnings drop by over 50% in five years. When the many feel they are being left behind, patriotism becomes hollow.

War on minorities, on civility, on the rule of law: Minorities face violence and discrimination. Stories of lynching, of hate speech, of demolition drives disproportionately targeting minorities litter headlines. Independent institutions that once protected rights are being weakened. A democracy that silences dissent is no longer fully democratic.

War on science and history: When STEM subjects are sidelined, when textbooks recast history in ideological frames, the nation’s intellectual future is compromised. A citizen can only flourish when knowledge, history, critique are alive.

War on institutions: Freedom of the press is under threat. India’s rank on press freedom has plummeted. Fake news spreads rapidly, dissent is punished or silenced. When the judiciary, election commission, regulatory bodies are seen to be under government control, citizens lose recourse. Regulatory bodies and commissions lose independence. At the grassroots, this means fewer protected spaces. At the national level, this means weakened accountability.

None of this helps, and much of it divides. So, while leaders may divide and distract, the real hope lies with citizens standing firm. At local levels. In small acts of resistance. In everyday devotion to democracy.

Faith, Freedom and the Spirit of Citizenship

The recent remarks by social worker Jimmy Mathew on cricketer Jemimah Rodrigues have stirred concern. He cautioned that her open testimony of faith in Jesus and her father’s public witness might “backfire.” Such a comment reflects the unease of our times, where expressions of personal belief are viewed with suspicion. As citizens of a pluralistic India, we must reject this mindset. To suggest that Jemimah’s Christian faith could harm her career is to imply that faith itself has no place in the public square. That is not patriotism—it is prejudice. Patriotism, rightly understood, means safeguarding the dignity and conscience of every Indian, not silencing them.

Jemimah’s faith is her compass, not a campaign. It is not political propaganda but a personal conviction that guides her life and work. Agreeing with Journalist C.M. Paul, I would say, in a secular democracy, such openness should be celebrated, not feared. If speaking of Jesus is seen as a “risk,” then something is deeply wrong with our understanding of freedom. Our Constitution guarantees the right to profess, practice, and propagate one’s faith. Yet when public figures are told to hide their beliefs, the idea of secularism is distorted. True secularism does not mean the absence of faith, but equal respect for all faiths. Jemimah’s testimony is not a threat to national unity—it is an example of integrity in diversity. To link her to unverified allegations against her father is unfair and unethical. It undermines both her individual dignity and the spirit of citizenship. In India’s vibrant democracy, no one should be shamed into silence because of belief or background.

Patriotism today must stand for the protection of conscience, not its suppression. It must affirm that every Indian—Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Sikh, or atheist—has the right to speak, pray, and live according to conviction. The strength of our republic lies not in uniformity but in mutual respect. Let us therefore appeal for maturity in public discourse. Faith should never be treated as a liability, nor should belief be forced into secrecy. The true test of citizenship is not how alike we are, but how well we honor our differences. Jemimah’s quiet courage is a reminder that in a divided society, authenticity itself becomes an act of patriotism.

Local Patriotism: The Heartbeat of National Unity

For a united India, citizenship must begin at the local level. Unity does not emerge only from large symbols. It grows first in small places — villages, urban neighborhoods, local schools, community centres. Mutual respect, neighborly help, and community engagement lay the foundation. Yet, polarization and institutional pressures often turn neighbors into strangers. Building harmony means defending every citizen’s Rights, regardless of their background. It means creating safe spaces for dialogue, standing up against prejudice, and holding leaders openly accountable. If India is a mosaic, every tile must hold. Here is the practical mode:

Start with religious dialogue and respect:  In a neighborhood mosque, a Hindu family walks in to greet Ramadan. In a Christian church, the imam is invited for Iftar. These small acts matter. They signal that religion is a bridge, not a boundary.

Champion joint citizenship rights: In local panchayats, all community members — Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Sikh, Dalit, Adivasi — must have equal voice. When school committees, village councils, urban wards reflect the full diversity of India, then unity deepens.

Elevate talent and service over identity: Award local youth not by religion, but by merit. Celebrate the community teacher, the woman who runs a micro-enterprise bridging caste divides, the youth who volunteers in flood relief regardless of creed. These are the living models of citizenship.

Reject the politics of division: When local elections reduce to ‘us vs them’ along communal lines, the nation suffers. Citizens must encourage multi-faith platforms, ensure that the local welfare schemes reach all, and resist the temptation of vote bank identity politics.

Why This Matters Now

India stands at a crossroads. On the one hand, we see growth. GDP numbers that dazzle. Large infrastructure projects. Global diplomacy victories. But growth alone is not enough. On the other hand, we see social fault-lines widening. Religious hate-speech rose by 74% in 2024, according to a US-based research group (www.reuters.com. Feb 10, 2025). Youth unemployment remains severe. Democracy is under strain. Institutions compromised.

When a nation’s citizens are splintered by identity, when citizenship is conditional, when patriotism is defined in narrow terms, the promise of India is imperiled. The India dream is not of a singular culture, but of many cultures living in solidarity. Of many faiths offering respect to each other. Of many languages and communities knitting the fabric of one nation.

Today, India needs growth that includes everyone. Harmony among citizens—whatever their language, region, or religion—will drive this growth. This means acknowledging hardship, fighting injustice, and supporting the marginalized. It means rejecting hate and divisive politics, demanding accountability and transparency. Citizenship and patriotism are not to be dictated by politicians or loud media figures. Every Indian, regardless of background, can be a builder of unity. Such unity will not erase diversity, but celebrate it. True progress arises not from uniformity, but from the free, equal participation of all. The present political dispensation may resist this. It may push majoritarian narratives. It may centralize power. It may incentivize divisions. But citizens—active citizens—can counter that momentum.

A Citizens’ Checklist for Unity

India’s history is filled with lessons on the dangers of division—be it through caste, creed, or ego. Yet, the nation’s greatest victories have come when people stood together. All across the country, from metros to fields, from courts to classrooms, many Indians rise above narrow labels. To make this more concrete, here are simple actions citizens can commit to:

Engage in inter-faith conversation: Invite, listen, respect. In your local club, school, church, mosque, temple.

Support inclusive institutions: Whether it’s your neighborhood school, youth club or sports team—advocate for diversity.

Speak out for economic justice: If the system bypasses the poor, the marginalised, the minorities—demand better. Your patriotism is reflected in how your neighbour lives.

Defend democratic norms: If institutions are weakened, dissent stifled, minority rights threatened—you have a duty to protest respectfully and persistently.

Value talent over identity: Celebrate achievers from all communities. Break the stereotype that talent belongs to one religion or region.

Elevate citizenship beyond ritual: Claim your rights. Fulfill your duties. Vote responsibly, volunteer locally, participate in civic life.

A Closing Challenge to the Regime and the Citizens

To the regime: If you truly believe in India’s unity and growth, then you must enable pluralism—not only in rhetoric but in practice. You must strengthen institutions, protect minorities, uphold the rule of law, foster scientific temper and historical truth. You must ensure that growth is inclusive, that jobs reach the youth, that citizenship is unshackled by religion or community.

To the citizens: If you truly love India, then your patriotism must be active. It must not be passive flag-waving. It must be rooted in justice, dignity, dialogue and diversity. It must reflect the India of 1.4 billion citizens—not of one community alone. It must begin at the local level—not waiting for top-down leadership.

In our times of orchestrated polarization, the call is not to retreat. The call is not to surrender to division. The call is to rise. Rise as citizens. Rise for diversity. Rise for unity. Rise for India.  It is a call to unity in India’s diversity

For in the end, if we do not live the ideals of citizenship and patriotism in our everyday realities—our neighborhoods, our schools, our workplaces—then no grand rhetoric, no national slogan, no independent religious affiliation, will hold the dream together. Let us build India not only as a geographic entity—but as a community of mutual respect, shared purpose and vibrant diversity.

Because India does not need another monolith. It needs many voices, many traditions, many citizens who say: I belong. You belong. We all belong. And together we will build a nation—not by silencing difference but by celebrating it.

  

BALANCING THE INTERSECTION OF FAITH AND POLITICS: A SECULAR DILEMMA IN STATE GOVERNANCE

Introduction

In this article I will try to examine the evolving and contentious relationship between religion and state in contemporary India, with a focused critique of the governance patterns associated with the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and its ideological affiliate, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS). Situating the analysis within India’s constitutional design and its distinctive model of secularism, here we explore how political instrumentalization of faith, legal reforms and litigation, changes in institutional oversight of religious affairs, and the proliferation of anti-conversion laws have affected minority rights, civic pluralism, and democratic norms. The recent case of Sabarimala (Kerala), the politics surrounding the Places of Worship Act and Ayodhya, anti-conversion statutes (2022–2025), and the Citizenship Amendment debates — are proof enough to demonstrate shifts in state-religion dynamics. The BJP-RSS governance configuration has pursued a strategy blending normative Hindu majoritarian claims with state policy, thereby stretching constitutional secularism toward a majoritarian variant. This article concludes with prescriptions for restoring constitutional balance: legal and institutional safeguards, civil society strategies, judicial vigilance, and civic education to re-embed pluralism in public life.

The Sacred and the State

India’s constitutional vision of secularism was never about banishing religion from public life—it was about ensuring the equal dignity of all faiths while keeping governance impartial. Yet, seventy-five years since Independence, the uneasy intersection of faith and politics continues to define our national discourse. From the Sabarimala controversy in Kerala to the Ram Temple consecration in Ayodhya, from the hijab debates in Karnataka to the political rhetoric around “Sanatan Dharma,” religion has remained both a moral compass and a political weapon.

The question, then, is not whether religion and politics intersect—they always have—but how India, as a democratic and plural nation, can maintain its constitutional balance between faith and governance without tilting toward either theocracy or godless secularism. The current political moment, marked by religious symbolism and electoral expediency, demands a renewed reflection on this equilibrium.

Faith in the Political Arena: The Sabarimala Case Revisited

When the Left Democratic Front (LDF) government in Kerala, long identified with rationalism and Marxist secularism, organized the Global Ayyappa Sangamam in 2025, it reignited an old debate: can a government that once upheld women’s right to enter Sabarimala now use the same shrine for political rapprochement with the Hindu electorate?

The Sabarimala controversy, which began with the Supreme Court’s 2018 verdict allowing women of menstruating age to enter the temple, had already polarized Kerala society. The LDF’s earlier stance in enforcing the verdict, despite protests, cost it dearly in the 2019 general elections. The 2025 event seemed like an attempt at “faithful correction”—a bid to mend ties with religious communities. Yet, it also exposed the contradictions of Indian secular politics: a rationalist government performing a public act of devotion, and religious groups engaging with the State for political ends.

Soon after the event, a scandal erupted—gold plating from Sabarimala’s temple idols went missing. Allegations of theft, mismanagement, and cover-up followed. The optics of faith-politics convergence crumbled under administrative failure. What began as an outreach turned into a cautionary tale of how deeply faith and governance are entangled in India, even within parties ideologically committed to secularism (U. Hiran, The Hindu, October 13, 2025).

Constitutional Provisions and Intent towards Indian Secularism

The Indian Constitution does not use the single word “secular” in the original draft; the Preamble later came to include the term by the 42nd Amendment (1976). The Constitution’s architecture—Articles 25–28 (religious freedom clauses), Article 14 (equality before law), and Directive Principles—establishes a framework intended to secure freedom of conscience and religion, while empowering the State to regulate religious practices in the interest of public order, morality, health, and social welfare. The Constituent Assembly debated alternatives—explicitly religious invocations or rigid secularism—and chose instead a nuanced frame of secularism that recognized India’s religio-social embeddedness.

This “principled engagement” permitted state regulation of socio-religious institutions (e.g., Hindu personal law reforms) while affirming religion-neutral civil rights. By design, India’s model anticipated judicial and administrative involvement in adjudicating conflicts between religious claims and constitutional rights; as experiences since Independence demonstrate, these institutions have been repeatedly called to balance competing claims.

The Indian Model of Secularism: Not Separation but Engagement

Unlike the Western model that separates Church and State, India’s secularism is one of principled engagement. As Shishir Tripathi notes, our founding fathers rejected both a theocratic state and a godless republic. Instead, they envisioned a nation of sarva dharma sambhav—equal respect for all religions. Yet, from the late twentieth century into the twenty-first, the public role of religion in politics has intensified. Since 2014, political transformations led by the BJP, allied politically and ideationally with the RSS, have amplified debates about whether India’s public life is being reshaped by majoritarian religious claims. The BJP-RSS configuration has affected state–religion relations, and evaluates institutional and social responses to these transformations.

Dr. Rajendra Prasad attending the inauguration of the rebuilt Somnath Temple in 1951 against Nehru’s wishes encapsulates the paradox. The President acted as a believer; the Prime Minister, as a constitutional secularist. India’s founders understood that religion could not be confined to private life in a civilization where temples, mosques, and gurdwaras are as public as Parliament itself.

K. M. Munshi’s words still resonate: “A secular State is not a Godless State. Any State that seeks to outlaw God will very soon come to an end.” India’s secularism was designed not to erase religion from public space but to prevent the dominance of one religion over others. It is a secularism of negotiation, not exclusion.

Yet, the balance has often been strained. Political mobilization around religion—from the Babri Masjid demolition to present-day polarization over “love jihad” and conversion laws—has distorted the original spirit of this plural secularism.

Policy Instruments and Symbolic Governance

Under BJP governance, two strategies have been salient. First, symbolic governance: the state sponsors or legitimizes projects with cultural-religious salience (temple reconstructions, public festivals, massive consecration ceremonies) to create a narrative of civilizational restoration. Second, institutional reorientation: key appointments, legal initiatives, and administrative recompositions are aligned to accommodate or promote a majoritarian sensibility. These strategies produce both electoral dividends and social anxieties: they consolidate a majority base while producing apprehension among minorities about differential treatment and political exclusion. Scholarly commentary has argued the result is a democratic model wherein majoritarian cultural narratives gain institutional backing.

Judiciary and the Sacred: When Law Becomes Theologian

The judiciary, too, has been forced into the domain of the sacred. In the Shah Bano case (1985), the Supreme Court upheld a divorced Muslim woman’s right to maintenance under the secular Criminal Procedure Code, prompting a backlash from religious groups and a political reversal through the Muslim Women (Protection of Rights on Divorce) Act, 1986.

The Court has since walked a tightrope, mediating between constitutional morality and faith-based customs. From declaring instant triple talaq unconstitutional to ruling on women’s entry into temples and mosques, it has often functioned as the interpreter of what constitutes “essential religious practice.”

But when courts define theology, and governments implement verdicts selectively, the constitutional principle of neutrality is compromised. The State becomes both the guardian and the regulator of religion—a paradox of India’s secular structure.

The Political Temptation: Religion as Electoral Capital

Faith has always carried political currency in India, but its monetization in electoral politics today is unprecedented. From temple inaugurations broadcast live on national television to campaign speeches invoking gods and scriptures, the boundary between devotion and propaganda has blurred.

While religion once provided moral language to politics—Gandhi’s Ram Rajya being an ethical metaphor—it has now become an instrument of polarization. The proliferation of “faith-based populism” is not unique to the ruling party; opposition parties too, fearing electoral marginalization, have adopted “soft Hindutva” strategies to reclaim lost constituencies.

This instrumentalization of religion risks transforming India’s plural religiosity into a monolithic identity politics – trying best to turn India into a Hindu Rashtra. When political power sanctifies faith for votes, it is neither religion nor politics that wins—it is cynicism out of syncretism.

Faith, Freedom, and the Fragile Compact

The Indian Constitution enshrines freedom of conscience and the right to profess, practice, and propagate religion (Article 25). Yet, this freedom is subject to “public order, morality, and health.” The challenge lies in interpreting these limits without infringing upon faith.

Anti-conversion laws, currently enforced in several states, exemplify this dilemma. While they claim to prevent coercion, they often end up curbing legitimate expressions of belief, targeting minorities under the guise of regulation, even making all effort in banning the Arogya Prayer Sabha (healing prayer meet) bringing it also under the Anti-Conversion law. The tension between freedom and control mirrors the broader anxiety of a state caught between its secular identity and its populist impulses.

The Places of Worship (Special Provisions) Act, 1991, intended to preserve the religious character of sites as they existed in 1947, stands as a legislative attempt to safeguard secular equilibrium. Yet, calls to review it in the wake of the Ayodhya verdict and new claims over Gyanvapi and Mathura highlight how fragile this equilibrium remains.

The Theology of Power: Lessons from Jesus and the Prophets

The politics of faith must ultimately return to its moral core. In the Gospels, Jesus confronted political and religious powers alike with disarming humility and divine clarity. When asked about paying taxes to Caesar, His response—“Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s” (Matthew 22:21)—remains the most succinct articulation of the right relationship between faith and state.

Jesus refused political kingship (John 6:15), declined to wield the sword (Matthew 26:52), and rebuked religious hypocrisy. His kingdom was “not of this world” (John 18:36), yet His mission profoundly influenced it. By standing with the marginalized and challenging corruption, He modeled an engaged but non-partisan spirituality.

In India’s multi-religious setting, such a model is not only theological but political wisdom. Faith must act as conscience, not as campaign. It should inspire ethical governance, not sanctify political power.

The Syncretic Heritage: India’s Civilizational Balance

For centuries, India has thrived on religious syncretism—from Akbar’s Din-i Ilahi to the Bhakti-Sufi movements that blurred sectarian lines. Saints like Kabir and Nanak envisioned a spiritual democracy long before the word entered politics.

This composite culture—what Nehru called the “Ganga-Jamuni tehzeeb”—embodied coexistence. Even the Constitution’s framers drew from this ethos, embedding secularism not as a Western import but as a continuation of India’s plural civilizational heritage.

Yet today, this syncretic spirit faces an existential challenge. The conflation of religious nationalism with patriotism promoted by the RSS risks erasing the diverse religious and cultural identities that have sustained Indian democracy.

Restoring this balance requires more than legal safeguards—it demands cultural reawakening. Schools, universities, and media must revive interfaith education and civic ethics rooted in constitutional values.

Global Parallels: Religion in the Public Sphere

Globally, the intersection of religion and politics is not unique to India. In the United States, evangelical Christianity heavily influences politics; in Europe, secularism contends with resurgent Christian identity debates. African democracies grapple with Pentecostal (Charismatic) political activism, while Middle Eastern theocracies redefine governance through religious law.

Hadija Nantale’s research on the global intersection of faith and politics observes that religious leaders often shape political ideologies and governance structures through moral authority and mobilization (Nantale, Research Invention Journal of Current Issues in Arts and Management, 2024). Her insight holds true for India: religious institutions here are not peripheral—they are central to social organization.

The challenge, then, is not to eliminate their influence but to channel it toward peacebuilding, justice, and harmony. Faith communities can be allies of democracy if they resist the seduction of power.

Civil Society, Media, and Counter-Mobilization

Countervailing forces — human-rights groups, minority organizations, scholarly bodies, and portions of the media — have mobilized to resist institutional biases. Mass protests, strategic litigation, and advocacy campaigns (both domestic and transnational) have kept constitutional principles in public salience. The media ecosystem, while providing investigative oversight in cases like Sabarimala, is itself polarized; broadcast and social media platforms often amplify partisan narratives. The net effect is an intensified public sphere where competing normative frames (constitutional secularism vs. majoritarian cultural politics) play out in contested forums.

The Road Ahead: Restoring Constitutional Equilibrium

Reclaiming the balance between faith and politics requires a threefold response—ethical, institutional, and cultural:

1.      Ethical renewal: Political leaders must draw moral strength from faith without instrumentalizing it. Religious leaders, in turn, must uphold the prophetic duty to question power, not to endorse it.

2.      Legal Safeguards and Standardization of Enforcement: Anti-conversion statutes require narrow and precise definitions to prevent misuse; the Union should consider model legislation standards or constitutional review to ensure compliance with Article 25–28.

3.      Institutional clarity and transparency: The State must maintain neutrality in matters of religion—neither privileging nor penalizing any faith. Devaswom boards, waqf councils, and Church bodies must operate transparently, free from political control.

4.      Civic Education and Cultural literacy: Citizens must be educated in constitutional values. Religious literacy should form part of civic education—not to proselytize, but to cultivate understanding.

5.      Media Responsibility and Platform Regulation: Encourage ethical journalism; regulate digital misinformation that fuels communal tensions while respecting free speech.

6.      Political Norms and Inter-party Agreements: Cross-party pacts to depoliticize certain religious sites and to commit to neutral administration could reduce political exploitation of faith sites.

The Supreme Court’s role as constitutional guardian remains crucial too. Its independence and interpretative restraint are the final bulwarks against majoritarian capture of religion or state.

Conclusion: The Spirit of the Constitution

India’s secularism, born from both spiritual pluralism and constitutional wisdom, was never about denying faith but about ensuring justice through it. The challenge today is to protect this delicate architecture from the encroachment of political opportunism.

Faith can elevate politics when it speaks truth to power; politics can dignify faith when it safeguards freedom and equality. But when either dominates the other, both are corrupted.

In this secular dilemma, the words of Mahatma Gandhi offer enduring guidance: “Those who say religion has nothing to do with politics do not know what religion means.” For Gandhi, politics was the means to serve humanity, and religion the soul that gave it purpose.

            To balance this intersection is not merely a political task—it is India’s civilizational responsibility. Only when the State governs with neutrality and the faithful act with integrity can the Republic remain both sacred and free. This constitutional equilibrium is not a matter of silencing faith; it is a matter of reasserting the rule of law, impartial institutions, and a civic culture that honors pluralism. India’s plural republic rests on an uneasy but resilient constitutional compromise: nurturing a public space where multiple faiths coexist while securing civic equality. The path forward requires institutional reforms, social awakening, and ethical political leadership committed to the Republic’s foundational promise. 

WHEN GRANDEUR REPLACES INCLUSION: NATIONALISM AS A SHOWPIECE OF PROJECTED POWER AND PRIDE

Intro: India’s 79th Independence Day and the Politics of Optical National Pride

As India marks its 79th Independence Day, the speeches, parades, and televised images once again swell with the refrain that we are the “world’s greatest, mightiest, and largest democracy.” The present regime repeats this mantra so often it has become a kind of national soundtrack — but like all rehearsed lines, it risks masking more than it reveals. Behind the grandiloquence lies a calculated projection of strength and magnificence, a deliberate crafting of political theatre in which the spectacle of nationalism is prized over the substance of inclusive nationhood.

The Age of Monumental Optics

As the columnist Vasudevan Mukunth notes in The Hindu (12 August 2025) nothing better illustrates this shift than the recent inauguration of the Chenab railway bridge in Jammu and Kashmir — celebrated as the world’s highest rail arch. Its graceful steel curve across the Chenab River is undeniably a marvel of engineering. Yet, the decision to feature it prominently on Independence Day invitation cards reveals the underlying strategy: national pride is now anchored less in social equity or democratic vibrancy, and more in monumental imagery.

Over the past decade, India’s political narrative has been dotted with superlatives — the tallest statue, the longest expressway, the largest stadium. The Statue of Unity looms 182 meters above the Narmada, a colossal tribute to Sardar Patel that also subtly recasts him into a Hindu-first icon, aligning him with the ideological thrust of the current regime, says Vasudevan. Each new infrastructure project is wrapped in a media blitz and infused with nationalist rhetoric, designed to elicit awe rather than invite scrutiny.

The size is the message. These structures are not simply public works; they are symbols — declarations etched in stone, steel, and concrete — meant to impress upon citizens an image of a strong, capable, and resurgent India. But the question lingers: whose aspirations do they fulfill, and whose needs do they overshadow?

Grandeur vs. Grassroots

India’s obsession with gigantism coincides with a selective rewriting of history. Projects like the Kashi Vishwanath Corridor, according the same columnist,  are framed not merely as urban redevelopment but as civilisational reclamation, reclaiming “Hindu heritage” while marginalising other cultural narratives. This is less about serving diverse communities and more about curating a singular cultural identity — one that flattens India’s pluralism into a monolithic vision.

It is not that nation-building has no place for spectacle. The Eiffel Tower, the Hoover Dam, or the Great Wall of China have all functioned as rallying points for civic pride. But in India’s present political climate, spectacle operates with a dual purpose: it signals “progress” while simultaneously asserting dominance. Expressways slice through rural landscapes while adjacent villages still await basic sanitation. Mega-dams displace Adivasi communities, while stadiums are built in cities where slums remain untouched by development.

The physical grandeur becomes a substitute for social justice, replacing the slow, difficult work of inclusion with the faster, flashier work of construction. This is a governance of optics, where engineering feats are brandished as proof of political will, even if the benefits remain unequally distributed.

From Inclusion to Exclusion

The scale and ferocity with which the current regime pursues these projects reveal a deeper pattern: the deliberate anchoring of national belonging in monumental forms that inherently exclude. Public consultations, when they happen, are often perfunctory. Legal and environmental safeguards are waived in the name of urgency. Development becomes something done to communities rather than with them.

The rhetoric surrounding such projects mirrors the language of military triumphs — shrinking distances, fortifying borders, taming nature. The government’s Himalayan tunnel projects are presented as marvels of ingenuity, yet they scar fragile mountain ecosystems and uproot Indigenous populations. The price of speed and spectacle is borne by those least visible in the national imagination.

This exclusionary nationalism is reinforced by the erasure of minority contributions from the nation’s story. The grandeur projects are almost always framed within a selective historical narrative, celebrating certain icons while silencing others. It is a nationalism that prefers a perfect postcard image to the messy, contested realities of democratic life.

Security, Stature, and the Rhetoric of Vigilance

This year’s Independence Day rhetoric is also shaped by a heightened discourse on national security. At the 8th National Security Strategies Conference in July, Union Home Minister Amit Shah warned that India’s “rising stature” would bring greater security challenges in the coming decade. His prescription — tighter coordination between central and state agencies, increased anti-narcotics drives, and the use of indigenous technology for policing — reinforces the government’s narrative that India is under constant external and internal threat.

This security-first framing dovetails neatly with the politics of spectacle. When a nation is constantly reminded of threats, the construction of monumental symbols becomes not just a celebration of pride but also an assertion of power — a visual guarantee of safety and stability. But this visual reassurance often conceals the cracks: unaddressed social inequalities, stifled dissent, and communities left behind in the march toward a “great” India.

The Lost Tradition of People-Centric Engineering

India’s history offers a different blueprint for pride. Ancient stepwells, Mughal gardens, and traditional irrigation systems were engineering marvels too — but they were built to serve communities directly, to provide water, shade, and sustenance. They reflected a vision of nationhood where achievement was measured in lives improved, not just in records broken.

In contrast, the present fixation on record-breaking structures sidelines this heritage of people-oriented development. Nationalism becomes a stage performance where the citizen is an audience member, not a participant. Grandeur becomes the idiom of pride, while inclusion — the true test of democracy — is relegated to the margins.

Independence Day: Between Reality and Projection

The annual Independence Day celebrations are the perfect stage for this politics of projection. The Prime Minister’s address from the Red Fort is less a policy roadmap and more a showcase of India’s “achievements” — bullet trains, digital economies, smart cities — often without acknowledging the gaps between these promises and lived realities.

In a country still grappling with child malnutrition, agrarian distress, and unemployment, the emphasis on “world’s largest” and “world’s tallest” rings hollow. The grandeur may photograph well, but it does little to address the lived experience of millions whose independence remains incomplete.

Rethinking National Pride

True national pride need not be small-minded or anti-modern. India can and should celebrate its achievements in science, technology, and infrastructure. But pride loses its moral weight when it is used to paper over inequalities, to exclude rather than include, or to replace democratic participation with passive admiration.

The challenge before India, as it enters its 80th year of independence, is to reclaim a vision of nationhood where the measure of greatness is not the height of our statues or the span of our bridges, but the breadth of our inclusion — where every citizen can see themselves in the nation’s story, not just as spectators of grandeur but as stakeholders in its promise.

As the fireworks fade and the flags are folded this August 15th, the question lingers: Will we continue to equate patriotism with spectacle, or will we dare to build an India whose grandeur lies in the dignity, security, and participation of all its people?