Democracy and Secularism in India | Is it time to Change? Or was it Always Broken...

The Mirage of Secular Democracy in India: A Case for a Dharmic Renaissance

India’s secular-democratic framework, enshrined in its Constitution since 1950, is often celebrated as a triumph of unity in diversity. Yet, beneath this veneer lies a growing critique: that the system, far from being neutral, systematically suppresses Hindu interests to sustain a fragile political equilibrium. Critics argue that this model—imported from the West and hastily adapted to India’s pluralistic society—has fostered division, eroded cultural identity, and prioritized expediency over justice. In its place, they propose a Dharmic alternative, rooted in India’s ancient civilizational ethos, as a more authentic and sustainable governance model.

I. The Flawed Foundation: Democracy’s Divisive Legacy

India’s democracy, modeled on Western parliamentary systems, hinges on representation and individual rights. However, in practice, it has devolved into a game of vote-bank politics, where parties vie for power by appeasing minority groups, often at the expense of the Hindu majority. This has created a paradox: a system meant to ensure equality has instead entrenched inequality, with the majority’s cultural and political agency diluted.

• Vote Banks and Appeasement: The Congress Party’s post-independence strategy of cultivating Muslim and other minority vote banks set a precedent for identity-based politics. For instance, the 1986 Muslim Women (Protection of Rights on Divorce) Act, which overturned a Supreme Court ruling to appease conservative Muslim leaders, exemplifies how secularism bends to political pressure.
• Diffusion of Accountability: Unlike monarchies or traditional systems where rulers bore direct responsibility, India’s bureaucracy and judiciary diffuse accountability across faceless institutions. This allows the state to deflect blame while maintaining control over narratives, often portraying Hindus as the aggressors in communal conflicts.

Sita Ram Goel, a leading Hindu nationalist thinker, captured this sentiment: “Secularism in its present Indian form is no more than an embodiment of anti-Hindu animus”. Arun Shourie, a former journalist and BJP minister, echoed this, arguing that secularism has been “prostituted to serve electoral ends”. The result is a democracy that thrives on keeping Hindus fragmented and pacified, slowly eroding their civilizational heritage.

II. Historical Evidence: The State’s Suppression of Hindu Interests

The critique gains traction when viewed through the lens of history. The Indian state’s handling of communal violence and terrorism reveals a pattern of narrative control, judicial bias, and selective justice that disproportionately disadvantages Hindus. Below are detailed case studies:

A. The 1992-93 Mumbai Riots: A Tale of Two Narratives

• Context: Following the demolition of the Babri Masjid on December 6, 1992, Mumbai descended into riots, killing 900 people—575 Muslims and 275 Hindus, per the Srikrishna Commission.
• State Response: The commission highlighted police bias against Hindus, noting that officers often failed to act against Muslim mobs in the first phase of violence (December 1992). Yet, the national narrative, amplified by media and secular elites, focused solely on Muslim victimhood during the second phase (January 1993), when Hindu groups like the Shiv Sena retaliated.
• Judicial Outcome: Despite evidence of provocation from both sides, convictions were minimal, and the state prioritized “communal harmony” over justice, effectively silencing Hindu grievances.

B. The 2002 Godhra-Gujarat Riots: Erasing the Spark

• Context: On February 27, 2002, a train carrying Hindu pilgrims was torched in Godhra, killing 59 people. The subsequent Gujarat riots claimed 1,044 lives—790 Muslims and 254 Hindus.
• State Response: The initial inquiry by the Union government labeled the fire accidental, contradicting the Nanavati Commission’s finding of a premeditated attack by a Muslim mob. The secular establishment seized on the riots to vilify Hindus, sidelining the train burning as the trigger.
• Judicial Outcome: Narendra Modi, then Gujarat’s Chief Minister, faced relentless scrutiny, yet the Supreme Court cleared him in 2012. Meanwhile, the initial provocation faded from public discourse, cementing a one-sided narrative.

C. The 2007 Samjhauta Express Bombing: Judicial Absolution

• Context: On February 18, 2007, bombs exploded on the Samjhauta Express, killing 68 people, mostly Muslims. Initial suspicion fell on Islamist groups like Lashkar-e-Taiba, but the NIA later charged four Hindu activists, including Swami Aseemanand.
• State Response: The shift in focus to Hindu suspects aligned with the UPA government’s narrative of “saffron terror.” However, in 2019, all four were acquitted due to lack of evidence, prompting Pakistan to decry a “travesty of justice”.
• Implication: Critics argue this reflects a judiciary hesitant to convict Hindus when it risks undermining the secular facade, revealing a double standard in handling communal violence.

D. The 1984 Anti-Sikh Riots: A Comparative Lens

• Context: Following Indira Gandhi’s assassination, Congress-led mobs killed over 3,000 Sikhs in Delhi. Unlike Hindu-majority incidents, this violence was state-sponsored, with minimal accountability.
• Contrast: The lack of a sustained “secular” outcry—compared to the vilification of Hindus in Gujarat—highlights a selective application of justice, where Hindu victims or perpetrators face disproportionate scrutiny.

These events underscore a systemic bias: Hindu suffering is minimized, their aggressors shielded, and the majority branded as communal aggressors to preserve the secular mythos.

III. Intellectual Critiques: A Chorus Against Secularism

India’s secular-democratic framework, intended as a beacon of neutrality and equality, stands accused of betraying its own principles, morphing into a system that suppresses the nation’s cultural core. Intellectuals such as Sita Ram Goel, Arun Shourie, Koenraad Elst, and Ram Swarup collectively argue that this model—far from fostering harmony—creates structural inequalities, undermines the Hindu majority, and clashes with India’s historical ethos. Their critique reveals a secularism that is not impartial but biased, a democracy swayed by vote-bank politics, and a legal structure that entrenches disparity under the guise of fairness.

The evidence of this distortion is manifold. The state’s control over Hindu temples, while sparing mosques and churches, exemplifies a systemic tilt, stripping Hindus of institutional autonomy granted to others. This is compounded by political decisions—like the reversal of the Shah Bano verdict—where justice bends to appease minorities, exposing a “pseudo-secularism” that trades principles for electoral gain. Constitutionally, the unequal treatment of religious communities cements this injustice, binding Hindus under state oversight while others remain free. Such disparities, critics contend, reflect not mere oversight but a deeper animus against Hindu identity, choking its cultural vitality.

Beyond policy and law, the critique extends to the system’s civilizational roots. India’s secular framework, imported and ill-fitted, jars against the nation’s Dharmic traditions of pluralism and ethical governance. Where once shared values fostered unity, today’s divisive politics fracture it, prioritizing transactional appeasement over duty and justice. This alien imposition, the thinkers argue, strays from a past where harmony thrived without the need for such a rigid, biased structure. Together, their insights demand a reckoning: a call to realign governance with India’s intrinsic character, restoring cultural continuity and genuine equality.

IV. The Philosophical Divide: A Clash of Visions

Beneath the surface of this debate lies a deeper tension between two ways of understanding governance: the Western democratic ideal and India’s Dharmic tradition. The former, with its focus on individual rights and electoral contests, has shaped India’s current system. Yet, its emphasis on competition and separation often feels at odds with a society as complex as India’s. The latter, rooted in concepts of duty and harmony, offers a different path—one that some argue better suits the nation’s historical character.

Western democracy, as practiced in India, turns governance into a battle of numbers. Parties scramble to secure votes, often prioritizing short-term gains over long-term justice. This approach, critics contend, reduces unity to a fragile truce, where cultural identity—especially Hindu identity—becomes a bargaining chip. The result is a system where accountability scatters across institutions, and the deeper ethical questions of rule are left unanswered.

In contrast, the Dharmic vision, drawn from texts like the Arthashastra and the epics, centers on rajadharma—the duty of rulers to uphold justice and protect all. Leadership, in this model, derives its authority not from popularity but from adherence to moral order. Kautilya envisioned a ruler as a raja-rishi, a sage-like figure balancing power with virtue. Gandhi’s Ramarajya later echoed this, imagining a state where justice flows swiftly to every citizen, guided by duty rather than rights.

This philosophical divide reveals contrasting priorities. Democracy seeks fairness through majority rule, yet often stumbles in India’s diverse landscape. Dharma pursues a balanced justice, integrating diversity through shared principles. History offers glimpses of this in action: empires like Vijayanagara thrived by blending local governance with moral leadership. Such examples suggest that returning to these roots could foster a unity that democracy alone struggles to achieve—though how this might look in practice remains a question for careful exploration.

V. Weighing it Out: The Case for A Dharmic Governance

Critics of a Dharmic alternative raise pointed objections, warning of potential pitfalls. Some fear it could slide into majoritarianism, threatening minority rights in a Hindu-dominated state. Others doubt its practicality in a modern, pluralistic nation, dismissing it as an idealized dream. These concerns merit serious consideration, yet they can be met with reasoned responses grounded in history and principle.

The specter of majoritarianism assumes a Dharmic system would favor one group over others. Yet, its core tenets defy this. Kautilya’s writings demand equal protection for all subjects, while rulers like Ashoka demonstrated this through policies of tolerance. A governance model inspired by these ideas would not oppress but uplift, ensuring justice transcends community lines—distinct from the appeasement that marks today’s politics.

Practicality, too, finds answers in the past. The Vijayanagara Empire balanced decentralized rule with a unifying ethos, adapting to its time. Today, this might mean tempering democracy with ethical checks, drawing on India’s own traditions rather than foreign blueprints. Far from a fantasy, it suggests a framework that evolves with the present while staying anchored in enduring values.

Skeptics might still call it nostalgia, but the principles of duty and harmony are not bound to any era. Japan’s ability to modernize while preserving its cultural core offers a parallel: progress need not erase identity. A Dharmic approach, then, is less about turning back the clock and more about reclaiming a foundation that could steady India’s future.

VI. Conclusion: A Call to Reimagine India

India’s secular democracy, a noble experiment, now teeters on the edge of irrelevance. Its reliance on narrative control, judicial inconsistency, and minority appeasement has hollowed out its promise, leaving Hindus culturally adrift and the nation fractured. The historical record—Mumbai, Godhra, Samjhauta—reveals a state more committed to appearances than justice. Intellectuals like Goel, Shourie, and Elst expose its philosophical bankruptcy, while the Dharmic alternative offers a rooted, righteous path forward.

This is not a call to dismantle democracy but to transcend it. A Dharmic framework, blending ancient wisdom with modern needs, promises governance that honors India’s soul—where leaders are sages, justice is swift, and unity emerges from shared duty, not enforced equality. The choice is stark: cling to a failing mirage or embrace a renaissance that could redefine India for centuries.