Editorial

The recent uproar in Parliament over the recitation of Vande Mataram once again exposes a troubling tendency in Indian politics: manufacturing cultural flashpoints while real issues remain unaddressed. What should have been a routine ceremonial moment quickly escalated into accusations, walkouts, and performative nationalism—all revealing how symbols are repeatedly weaponized for political ends.

Vande Mataram holds an unquestioned place in India’s freedom struggle. It inspired generations of revolutionaries, poets, and common citizens who fought for independence. Its legacy is neither fragile nor controversial. Yet, the parliamentary storm that erupted was less about reverence for the song and more about cornering political opponents. The debate, as it unfolded, was not about patriotism but about policing patriotism.

The ruling benches attempted to portray reluctance or procedural objections as disrespect to the nation, reducing a complex historical and constitutional issue into a binary of “nationalist” versus “anti-national.” The opposition, in turn, responded defensively, accusing the government of deliberate provocation and disregard for plural values. In the process, the nuance surrounding Vande Mataram—its cultural meaning, its constitutional status, its voluntary recitation—was lost in the noise.

The Constitution makes a clear distinction: Jana Gana Mana is the national anthem, while Vande Mataram is the national song. The Supreme Court and Constituent Assembly debates have affirmed that no citizen can be compelled to sing either. India’s democratic ethos rests on freedom of choice and respect for diversity. Patriotism cannot be legislated, mandated, or shouted from across the aisle of Parliament.

What is truly disheartening is how Parliament—an institution meant for deliberation on national priorities—is increasingly being consumed by symbolic controversies. While the nation faces pressing challenges such as inflation, unemployment, agrarian distress, climate emergencies, and social disharmony, the focus shifts to ideological sparring over rituals and symbols. This not only weakens democratic debate but also erodes public trust in legislative functioning.

The Vande Mataram row should remind us that patriotism is best demonstrated through governance, accountability, and compassion—not through competitive displays inside Parliament. India needs leadership that can rise above symbolic theatrics and engage in substantive policy dialogue. A nation of 1.4 billion cannot afford to spend its parliamentary time debating issues that do little to improve the lives of its citizens.

In times of deepening polarization, reaffirming constitutional values and democratic maturity is the true test of patriotism. The Parliament must lead by example.

As Parliament prepares to debate so-called “electoral reforms,” the nation must recognise the discussion for what it truly is: a façade for implementing a calculated trilogy of measures designed to permanently tilt the democratic playing field. Framed through the lens of desh (space), kaal (time), and patra (voter), these moves—Delimitation, One Nation One Election (ONOE), and the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of rolls—are not benign reforms but interconnected deformations of electoral integrity.

Desh is being reconfigured through Delimitation. By reapportioning Lok Sabha seats based on population, states where the BJP is politically weak stand to lose representation, while its Hindi heartland strongholds gain. This demographic reshuffling, coupled with the sinister prospect of gerrymandering tested in Assam and Jammu & Kashmir, will structurally diminish the political voice of entire regions.

Kaal is being manipulated through ONOE. Simultaneous elections overwhelmingly benefit the national incumbent, amplifying its campaign machinery and financial muscle. By compressing India’s vibrant, cyclical democratic expression into a single, once-in-five-years mega-event, the regime makes the electoral process more manageable, manipulable, and less accountable.

Most perniciously, Patra—the voter—is being surgically excised through the SIR. Following Bihar’s model of mass disenfranchisement, a nationwide rollout threatens to strip millions, predominantly the poor, migrants, and marginalised communities, of their voting rights. This institutionalises exclusion under the guise of cleaning rolls, disproportionately targeting sections deemed inconvenient to the ruling party’s calculus.

Together, this triple mechanism does not reform; it strategically dismantles. It echoes a global playbook of “autocratic legalism,” where constitutions and laws are weaponised to cement power under a veneer of legitimacy. India’s democratic backsliding, already flagged internationally, stands at a precipice. Parliament must not be complicit in debating these fatal cuts. Its duty is to reject them unequivocally and defend the very foundation of electoral democracy.

• SAS Kirmani