I was recently on the phone with a childhood friend who lives in one of the big Indian metropolitan cities. The doorbell rang on his end and he hung up, only to call me back 10 minutes later.

Upon inquiry, he revealed that individuals had arrived at his doorstep seeking donations for the impending consecration of the Ram temple in Ayodhya. When I asked how he handled the situation, considering he was the one who introduced me to the intellectual musings of Bertrand Russell and Richard Dawkins, he admitted to making a random contribution.

I was piqued. He explained these donation seekers were locals and a latent fear lingered within him. He worried that refusing or questioning them might single him out for future repercussions. Unlike me, comfortably ensconced in a country indifferent to my personal choices, he didn’t enjoy such immunity. Hence his reluctant participation in communal activities orchestrated by the honourable prime minister, like lighting candles and clapping on balconies.

Since that conversation, I have been thinking about the unfolding dynamics in contemporary India. While comparing it to other countries where atheism is outlawed may seem unjust, the extent of one’s openness about atheism in India, especially if born into the Hindu faith, raises concerns. 

Transitioning out of a religious belief system, if guided by moral integrity, involves profound disagreements not only with the concept of God but also with how God is defined in one’s faith. An ex-Muslim may critique with Islam, and an ex-Hindu might scrutinise Hinduism. Personally, I grapple with certain ritualistic traditions within my faith, much like my aforementioned friend. 

However, the question arises: how much of this discourse can occur openly when the entire media ecosystem acts as an extension of a particular religion, stigling nuanced conversations with raucous sloganeering?

In the India of 2024, the live-streaming of the  pran pratishtha of the Ram Mandir pervades not just our televisions but also our cinema screens. The jubilation has been extended to a public holiday as well. It’s clear there is now an amalgamation of God, religion, state and the current regime.

For someone like me, unconvinced by the rationale behind the concept of God – any god, let alone religion – the acceptance of this inexorable reality becomes an unspoken compromise. Fellow dissenters tread cautiously through life, perhaps a touch more discerning about whom to confide in and whom to trust. With time, if not already, public engagement in policy discourse either dwindles or unfolds solely through the lens of religious rhetoric.

Religion as a weapon to stifle any debate

This is further complicated by the way religion and faith traditions can act as a cover to protect any criticism of the state itself and of the leaders of the state who stand for said faith traditions. The best example is obviously how political, sometimes social actors within Israel pretend that any criticism of the state’s actions is antisemitism. Even in India over time, any criticism of the current dispensation is directly linked to being critical of the faith.

In representative democracies, the manner in which government officials rationalise decisions plays a pivotal role in maintaining legitimacy – essential for the survival of the political system. Even ostensibly sound policy decisions, when accompanied by problematic justifications, can lead to dire consequences. Put more simply, religious arguments being used as a weapon to justify state policy can become a “conversation stopper”. Lively debate is crucial for the effective functioning of democratic politics. 

Political theorists have delved into the realm of “comprehensive doctrines” such as religion, which tend to categorise people into believers and unbelievers, fostering divisions between ingroups and outgroups. They argue when state policies draw upon religious justifications, it raises concerns about their broader applicability to the general public and suggests a potential inclination towards serving specific groups, usually the religious majority. 

This tendency poses a threat to the democratic system’s ability to peacefully resolve disputes in public interest because the scales are already tilted toward one side. We can see this happening with multiple Supreme Court decisions that have come about since the 2019 verdict on the Ram Mandir and even in the actions of local and state police in India that have sought to conduct extra-judicial actions clearly benefiting one group over another.

To just blame politicians would also be short-sighted. After all, this is a country that identifies deeply with religion across all denominations. Politicians serve as mirrors reflecting the currents that underpin society. An elected official embodies the collective will of the people, allowing them to navigate within the confines of a prescribed range of opinions. 

While some politicians may surpass these limits, any seasoned political figure understands the importance of aligning with the prevailing sentiments of their constituency. Unless there exists a compelling ideological motive prompting a politician to champion the cause of a minority group, there’s little electoral incentive to publicly endorse such views. The predicament lies in the widespread endorsement of the concept of a majoritarian theocracy cloaked in the garb of formulaic capitalism in India.

Religion has all the answers

Poet Charles Bukowski said, “For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can't readily accept the God formula, the big answers don't remain stone-written.” 

In a society that is ruled by religious convictions, all policy debate and governing happens under the assumption that all the right pathways have already been defined by God and if not, then anything we do will be right since we inherit the blessings of the divine. 

The religious convictions that confidently provide solutions to challenges deemed within the predetermined boundaries of “our land or our temple” find themselves handicapped when confronted with issues beyond this scope. At the current assumed growth rate of six percent (a figure subject to debate), India is projected to reach a per capita level of $10,000 by 2047. While this may seem promising, the comparison puts us on par with China’s present status, not to mention Southeast Asian nations like Korea that have already surpassed us. 

The fervent belief that India will achieve developed status by 2047 overlooks pressing concerns, such as hosting one of the largest populations of youth coupled with one of the highest unemployment rates. Unfortunately, these crucial questions remain unexplored amid the reverberations of devotional songs on national television.

When the bedrock of the governing philosophy is firmly anchored in retrospection rather than foresight, it’s hardly surprising that the past decade has been marked by an extraordinary focus on rectifying historical issues like Article 370 or the Mandir, while simultaneously ushering in new concerns like love jihad. This period has witnessed an unprecedented efficiency, typically absent in the sluggish machinery of bureaucracy, in legislating these changes. 

However, when it comes to addressing contemporary challenges – be it in the economic realm or in managing the Covid-19 pandemic – the performance has not only been lacklustre but has regressed the country to a bygone era romanticised for its antiquity.

Thus in July 2023, in the pursuit of efficiency and upholding the rule of law, a young man named Adnan Mansoori (18), along with his brother and friend, both 15, were arrested in Madhya Pradesh, accused of spitting on a Mahakal procession. Remarkably, within a mere two days, their residence was bulldozed amid jubilant DJ beats and music, receiving widespread acclaim from majoritarian zealots nationwide, both in newsrooms and across social media platforms. 

Come December 2023, the Madhya Pradesh High Court granted Adnan bail, the two minors having received bail in September. 

The twist emerged when both the complainant and the witness informed the court that they were entirely unfamiliar with the boys and were coerced by the police into signing the papers. Unfortunately, this revelation surfaced after Adnan had already spent 150 days in confinement, his home reduced to rubble, and his family subjected to harassment and humiliation in the neighbourhood. 

Despite the gravity of this situation, it remained conspicuously absent from mainstream media coverage, offering a stark reflection of the state of law and order in majoritarian India.

What does the public square actually need?

Bertrand Russell said, “Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown, and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. Fear is the basis of the whole thing – fear of the mysterious, fear of defeat, fear of death. Fear is the parent of cruelty, and therefore it is no wonder if cruelty and religion has gone hand-in-hand.” 

A thriving society and the world at large demands knowledge, compassion, and bravery – not a wistful yearning for a bygone era or the subjugation of free thought by the words uttered by ignorant men in ages past. It craves a bold perspective and an unshackled intellect. It yearns for optimism about the future, not perpetual glances backward at a dead past, trusting instead in the potential of the future that our intelligence can forge. 

The entire notion of God emerges from our deepest fears, an unworthy concept for beings who should be more dignified and self-respecting than debasing themselves to imaginary entities. What we need is to rise, confront the world honestly, and extract the best from it. Even if the world falls short of our ideals, it remains superior to the one crafted by those who came before us.

Rationalism invites us to transcend the timeworn timidity that has shackled humanity for generations. It urges us, guided by our innate wisdom, to cease seeking illusory crutches, to abandon the invention of celestial allies, and instead, focus on our collective endeavours to shape this world into a worthy abode. No longer should we rely on the paradigms imposed by centuries of religious institutions; rather, we must stand firmly on our own feet, confronting the world – its virtues, vices, beauty, and ugliness – unflinchingly. Embrace the world as it is, unafraid. Triumph over challenges through intellect, not through submission to the terror it may instil.

Maybe PVR Cinemas would do well to screen a reel on Article 51A of the Indian constitution as well.

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