The Hollow Republic: Critical Reflections on India’s Democratic Crisis

 

Introduction

In May 2024, India’s ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) secured a third consecutive term in national office, reaffirming its electoral dominance despite mounting concerns over democratic backsliding. While the country remains a functioning electoral democracy—with regular elections, an active press, and a formally independent judiciary—many observers have noted a stark contradiction: democratic structures endure, but the spirit of democracy appears increasingly hollow. Minority rights are under siege, dissent is criminalised, and institutions meant to check executive power have been either weakened or co-opted. India’s democratic crisis is no longer a looming threat—it is an unfolding reality.

This essay argues that India’s democracy is being hollowed out from within. The façade of constitutional democracy masks a deep erosion of substantive democratic values such as pluralism, accountability, and inclusion. Drawing on insights from critical theorists such as Jürgen Habermas, Herbert Marcuse, and Antonio Gramsci, this analysis interrogates the disconnect between democratic form and function and examines how power operates beneath the surface of procedural legitimacy.

The discussion unfolds in four parts. First, it explores how democratic institutions have been hollowed out while retaining their formal shell. Second, it examines the rise of majoritarian politics and its impact on representation. Third, it analyses the political economy driving democratic decline. Finally, it considers the shrinking space for dissent and the role of media in manufacturing consent. Together, these reflections aim to expose the contradictions of India's “hollow republic.”

The Democratic Façade: Institutions Without Substance

At first glance, India appears to fulfil the procedural requirements of a thriving democracy. Elections are held regularly, courts issue rulings, and parliament continues to function. Yet beneath this formal structure lies a deeper crisis: the institutional shell of democracy remains intact, but its substance—deliberation, accountability, and pluralism—is steadily eroding. What persists is a façade of democracy, behind which the concentration of power has grown unchecked.

Over the last decade, executive authority has expanded dramatically. The Prime Minister's Office has centralised decision-making, sidelining both parliament and cabinet. Ordinances bypass legislative debate, while federalism is increasingly compromised. Opposition parties face the selective use of investigative agencies. Meanwhile, civil society organisations are restrained by the Foreign Contribution (Regulation) Act (FCRA), which curtails foreign funding and advocacy efforts.

Paradoxically, even democratic institutions are used to suppress dissent. Broad laws on sedition and terrorism (UAPA) are frequently applied against activists, students, and journalists, often pre-trial. Courts increasingly defer to executive interests, especially in politically sensitive cases. Although elections remain competitive, they are distorted by opaque campaign financing and state-controlled narratives.

This erosion reflects what Jürgen Habermas termed the colonisation of the lifeworld—where systems of power displace democratic deliberation. In place of “communicative rationality,” where democracy rests on inclusive dialogue, Indian institutions now reflect “instrumental rationality,” where outcomes are determined by elite interests and bureaucratic control. Herbert Marcuse similarly warned of repressive tolerance, where forms of freedom are permitted only so long as they do not challenge domination. In India today, the performance of democracy persists—but its emancipatory core has been gutted.

Majoritarianism and the Crisis of Representation

One of the most troubling features of India’s democratic decline is the growing appeal to majoritarianism—the idea that the will of the majority overrides constitutional protections for minorities and dissenters. While this tendency has existed historically, its institutionalisation under the BJP has triggered a crisis of representation. In this system, democratic legitimacy is no longer derived from inclusive citizenship but from the projection of cultural and religious uniformity.

The Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) and the proposed National Register of Citizens (NRC) exemplify this shift. By explicitly privileging non-Muslim migrants, the CAA institutionalises religious discrimination. The NRC threatens to render millions stateless—particularly Muslims and low-income communities lacking documentation. Simultaneously, anti-Muslim violence, including mob lynchings, has become both more frequent and more normalized, creating a pervasive climate of fear.

Censorship further entrenches this majoritarian logic. Films, scholarship, and media reports critical of the government are routinely attacked or banned. Pro-government media networks dominate airtime, reinforcing a homogenized vision of national identity and stifling dissenting narratives.

Antonio Gramsci’s theory of hegemony offers a powerful framework for understanding this process. In Gramsci’s view, power is sustained not only through coercion but through cultural leadership—the construction of “common sense” that aligns popular belief with ruling-class interests. In contemporary India, the state and its media allies manufacture a hegemonic consensus in which Hindu majoritarianism is equated with patriotism, and pluralism with disloyalty. The crisis of representation, then, is not accidental—it is strategic, converting democracy into a mechanism for exclusion under the guise of national unity.

The Political Economy of Hollowing Out

India’s democratic decline cannot be fully understood without examining its economic underpinnings. Over the past decade, neoliberal reforms have advanced alongside growing authoritarianism—not as conflicting trends, but as mutually reinforcing forces. Together, they have produced a society in which citizens are economically precarious and politically disengaged—a condition that critical theorists describe as managed depoliticisation.

The state has overseen the rapid privatisation of public assets, from national airlines to ports and highways, concentrating economic power in the hands of a corporate elite with close ties to the ruling party. At the same time, labor reforms have diluted worker protections and undermined collective bargaining rights in the name of “ease of doing business.” Simultaneously, the expansion of digital surveillance—through biometric IDs, facial recognition, and opaque data collection—has extended state power into everyday life.

This convergence reflects what Frankfurt School theorists like Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno identified as the transformation of democracy into a means of elite control. In such a system, institutions are preserved not to expand participation, but to legitimize an order where market logic overrides political equality. As Adorno warned, when freedom becomes a carefully managed experience, politics is reduced to private frustration and passive acceptance.

Today, Indian citizens are increasingly positioned not as rights-bearing participants, but as consumers—of digital platforms, welfare schemes, and aspirational narratives. Financial inclusion is touted as progress, even as avenues for political inclusion are systematically narrowed. As Herbert Marcuse famously wrote, “the free election of masters does not abolish the masters.” In this context, India’s democracy risks becoming one-dimensional: procedurally intact, but substantively hollow.

Silencing Dissent and the Manufacturing of Consent

A healthy democracy requires more than elections; it needs a vibrant public sphere where dissent and debate are not only permitted but protected. In contemporary India, that space is under siege. Laws like sedition and the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA) have been used to criminalise criticism of the government. Activists, students, journalists, and artists have been jailed under vague allegations, often denied bail, and subjected to prolonged pre-trial detention.

The coercive edge of the state is reinforced by a captured media landscape. Over the past decade, media consolidation has placed much of India’s press under the control of conglomerates with close ties to the ruling party. Independent journalism is increasingly rare, hampered by legal threats, advertising pressure, and coordinated online attacks. Government narratives dominate prime-time television, where dissenting voices are marginalised or demonised.

This aligns closely with Noam Chomsky and Edward Herman’s framework of manufacturing consent, wherein media systems in formal democracies serve elite interests by shaping public perception rather than informing civic debate. In India, this is achieved through selective reporting, repetition of nationalist rhetoric, and the systematic silencing of critical perspectives.

Theodor Adorno’s critique of the culture industry is equally instructive. Adorno warned that mass media, when commodified and standardised, do not educate but entertain, producing passive consumers rather than active citizens. In India, news increasingly resembles spectacle—sensationalist, polarizing, and devoid of substance. Dissent becomes deviance, activism becomes subversion, and democracy becomes performance.

What results is not overt totalitarianism but a more subtle regime of consent: one in which the appearance of freedom masks its erosion. The mechanisms of control are cultural as much as political, and their most insidious effect is to render alternatives unimaginable.

Toward a Democratic Reclamation

India’s democratic erosion is not merely the result of authoritarian overreach. It is a hollowing out from within—where procedural forms are retained, but the substance of democracy is steadily stripped away. As critical theorists remind us, domination in modern democracies often operates not by dismantling institutions, but by redefining their purpose: shifting them from enabling participation to managing populations, from ensuring accountability to consolidating control.

And yet, even within this hollowed republic, resistance persists. The farmer protests, which brought millions to the streets in 2020–21, exemplified democratic agency from below. Student mobilisations, anti-CAA demonstrations, and grassroots campaigns for justice continue to confront both state repression and cultural hegemony. These moments remind us that democracy is not confined to the formal workings of institutions—it also lives in the everyday struggles for dignity, recognition, and voice.

Reclaiming Indian democracy will require more than protecting elections or restoring parliamentary norms. It demands a radical reimagining of democratic life—one that centres inclusion over exclusion, deliberation over domination, and structural reform over symbolic gestures. This means confronting not only authoritarian power, but also the social and economic inequalities that sustain it.

As Raymond Williams once observed, democracy is “a long revolution”—an ongoing and unfinished project. India’s future depends not on restoring a golden past, but on building a democratic order yet to be realised: a republic grounded not in appearances, but in justice, plurality, and shared power.

*Author Bio: Asis Mistry is Assistant Professor in the Department of Political Science, University of Calcutta. His work focuses on democratic theory, political economy, and South Asian politics.

 

From Shahbagh to Hefazat: Tracing Bangladesh’s Islamist Surge

Asis Mistry

In recent years, Bangladesh has witnessed an unsettling rise in religious extremism, reflecting a shift in the country’s socio-political dynamics. While Bangladesh’s founding ideals in 1971 were rooted in secular nationalism, the country has experienced a resurgence of radical ideologies that increasingly threaten its pluralistic fabric. The political landscape has both directly and indirectly facilitated this phenomenon, as mainstream parties exploit religious sentiment for political gain, and state responses to extremism remain inconsistent and often reactive.

The Historical Roots of Religious Politics

To understand the current manifestation of religious extremism in Bangladesh, one must revisit its political history. The secular vision of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman began to erode following his assassination in 1975. In the subsequent decades, military rulers like Ziaur Rahman and Hussain Muhammad Ershad incrementally Islamized the polity—lifting the ban on religious parties, inserting Islamic references in the constitution, and institutionalising religion in education and public life.

This shift laid the foundation for actors such as Jamaat-e-Islami to re-enter the political sphere. A party accused of collaborating with Pakistani forces during the 1971 Liberation War, Jamaat enjoyed strategic alliances with the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP). These alliances granted Islamist groups mainstream legitimacy and access to state institutions, especially during BNP-led governments. While Jamaat’s formal power has waned, its ideological legacy has persisted through informal networks, student organisations, and madrasas.

The Rise of Hefazat-e-Islam and New Islamist Movements

In the vacuum left by a weakened Jamaat, newer movements have gained ground. Among them, Hefazat-e-Islam, a Qawmi madrasa-based group, emerged as a powerful socio-religious force. Unlike Jamaat, Hefazat does not operate as a formal political party but exerts tremendous pressure through street power and religious legitimacy. It first rose to national prominence during the 2013 Shahbagh movement, countering secular activists and demanding harsh blasphemy laws, gender segregation, and the removal of secular content from textbooks.

What makes Hefazat particularly potent is its grassroots support among rural clerics and its ability to mobilise tens of thousands in protest. Governments across the political spectrum have courted Hefazat at different times. The Awami League (AL), which champions secularism, paradoxically engaged with Hefazat to neutralise opposition from Islamist quarters, even conceding to some of its demands, such as textbook revisions and recognition of Qawmi degrees. These concessions, however politically expedient, embolden extremist forces and blur the secular-religious divide.

Political Opportunism and Ideological Contradictions

Bangladesh’s two dominant parties, the AL and BNP, have both contributed to the entrenchment of religious extremism—albeit in different ways. The BNP has long aligned itself with Islamist groups, viewing them as electoral allies. This pragmatic alliance has provided a veneer of political legitimacy to groups with radical ideologies. On the other hand, the AL has oscillated between repression and appeasement. Its crackdown on Jamaat leaders through war crimes tribunals has been praised for upholding justice but also criticised for being politically selective.

In contrast, the AL’s tactical rapprochement with Hefazat reveals an ideological inconsistency that undermines its secular credentials. Such ambiguity dilutes public trust and signals to extremist groups that the state is willing to compromise on core principles when politically convenient. As a result, extremism becomes a viable tool for influence rather than a fringe threat to be eradicated.

The State’s Security-Centric Response

The state’s response to religious extremism has largely been security-driven. Following a spate of gruesome killings between 2013 and 2016—targeting secular bloggers, LGBTQ activists, foreigners, and religious minorities—the government launched aggressive counterterrorism operations. Groups like Ansar al-Islam (affiliated with Al-Qaeda) and Neo-JMB (an ISIS-aligned faction) were implicated in these attacks. The 2016 Holey Artisan Bakery attack, which killed 22 people, marked a turning point in public perception and state policy.

The government’s counterterrorism apparatus responded with brute force—arrests, encounters, and surveillance. While these actions curtailed the organisational capacity of militant networks, they did little to address the ideological roots of radicalisation. Moreover, the sweeping nature of arrests sometimes blurred the lines between militants, dissidents, and political opponents, raising concerns about human rights violations and the misuse of anti-terror laws.

Social Media, Global Influences, and Youth Radicalisation

Religious extremism in Bangladesh is no longer confined to traditional madrasa networks. Increasingly, radical ideologies are disseminated via social media, encrypted apps, and online forums. Young, educated individuals—often from urban, secular backgrounds—have been implicated in extremist plots, signalling a new wave of ideological recruitment that transcends class and education boundaries.

The global resurgence of Salafist-Wahhabi ideologies, funded by transnational networks, has also seeped into Bangladeshi religious discourse. The proliferation of foreign-funded mosques, scholarships, and clerics contributes to the homogenization of Islam and the marginalisation of Bangladesh’s syncretic religious traditions, such as Sufism and Baul culture.

Threats to Minorities and Civil Liberties

The politicisation of religion and the rise of extremism have had dire consequences for religious minorities—particularly Hindus, Buddhists, Christians, and Ahmadiyyas. Attacks on temples, desecration of idols, and forced displacement have been reported during election seasons or in the aftermath of blasphemy rumours. These incidents are not only indicative of growing intolerance but also reflect the instrumental use of communal violence to polarise voters and suppress dissent.

Moreover, the space for secular voices, progressive academics, and liberal journalists has shrunk significantly. Censorship, digital security laws, and extrajudicial actions contribute to a climate of fear that curtails open debate and critical inquiry—ironically creating the very conditions that allow extremism to fester.

The Way Forward: Reclaiming Secularism and Pluralism

Countering religious extremism in Bangladesh requires more than military operations or legal bans. It demands a robust recommitment to the principles of secularism, democratic accountability, and social justice. Educational reform is central—modernising madrasa curricula, promoting critical thinking, and reinvigorating cultural narratives that celebrate religious harmony and Bengali identity.

Civil society organisations, religious scholars, and grassroots leaders must play a greater role in countering extremist narratives. International cooperation on counterterrorism must be balanced with the protection of civil liberties. Above all, political parties must abandon the opportunistic use of religion and uphold constitutional values with consistency.

Bangladesh’s history is rich with traditions of tolerance, intellectual inquiry, and revolutionary pluralism. To surrender these values in the face of extremism would be a betrayal of its founding vision. The challenge is not only to defeat militancy but also to construct a society in which extremism has no soil to grow.

@ Author is Faculty of Political Science, University of Calcutta