India’s story over the decades since independence can be described as one of contrast. A contrast between the two republics that were and are India. One republic existed in the years after independence, shaped by the memory of empire and colonisation, and with a determination to walk on a new path. The other is the India of the present, shaped by new political ideas, rapid economic growth, and a different moral vocabulary of power. The two republics carry the same name, and the same constitution, but they rarely feel like the same political world. One placed its sense of purpose in secularism, welfare, and a principled and cautious foreign policy. The other projects confidence and ambition, but leans towards majoritarian impulse, corporatisation of the economy, and an admiration for strongmen abroad.
The early republic was never perfect, but it tried to move within a framework of ideals, which it took seriously. Secularism was meant to stabilise a deeply diverse country that was emerging from the trauma of Partition. The state saw itself as a balancing force, and worked to hold the communities together, trying to ensure that religion did not govern public life. Economically, the republic leaned towards planning, distributive justice, and control over core sectors. This came from the belief that rapid liberalisation would deepen the already existing inequalities in a country with fragile social foundations. Internationally, India presented itself as a mediator, a moral voice, and a state that wanted to protect the autonomy of the newly decolonised nations. Its non-alignment was built on the idea that the world should not be split into camps that were controlled by the two superpowers.
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| Indian people demonstrate to protest against the apartheid regime of racial segregation in South Africa, 04 April 1960 in New Delhi, after the Sharpeville massacre. (AFP, via Getty Images) |
The other republic, the India of today, speaks a different language. Its secular character is thin and contested. Religious identity has ceased to be a private and personal affair, and has instead become a major organising force in its politics. Instead of a state that acts as a referee, we have one that is known to lean towards one community’s cultural claims frequently. Citizens still discuss equality, but the atmosphere is marked by a pervasive sense of suspicion and division. The old idea of a plural notion was based on coexistence; the new mood, on the other hand, treats dissent or difference as a challenge to national unity.
Economically, too, the shift is quite contrasting. The early republic saw the state as a shield against exploitation and volatility. Today, the pendulum has swung far in favour of corporate influence. Crony capitalism now walks hand in hand with Indian politics. Large conglomerates have grown at an extraordinary speed, benefiting quite often from regulatory decisions, oversight, or sometimes from a direct proximity to political power. The older model had its own failures, the bureaucratic bottlenecks, corruption in the public sector, and inefficiency at times, but it at least claimed to serve the broader population. The new version of the republic sees growth through private accumulation as the primary engine of national progress. This has created “pockets” of prosperity, but has obviously widened inequality and has left even the most basic public goods under strain.
The contrast is also quite sharp when it comes to the Indian foreign policy. The first republic’s diplomacy was built on the ideas of restraint and dialogue, and a belief that India had a special responsibility to the developing world. Moral authority was seen as a form of power, and India stood with anti-colonial movements, argued for nuclear disarmament, and refused to appear as a client state for any global bloc. India’s voice carried a certain moral weight, even though its material resources were severely limited.
The present republic moves with far more freedom, and far less hesitation. Its foreign policy is transactional, and is influenced by domestic politics in ways that rarely happened earlier. India now courts powerful authoritarian leaders when it suits its strategic interests, and it celebrates displays of strength by global figures who project themselves as some nationalist guardians. The older republic placed its credibility in norms, the newer one places it in terms of “visible” power. It just wants to be recognised as a major player, even if it means overlooking human rights concerns or aligning with oppressive governments.
The story, in a way, is about the change in the political culture. The early republic, with all its contradictions, still preserved a space for disagreement. Institutions like universities, courts, and the press were not exactly flawless, but they were still protected from direct interference to a greater degree than they are today. The idea that the government could be criticised without fear was dominant in public life. The new republic, though, treats criticism as sabotage. Investigative agencies are used more aggressively, and voices that challenge authority face higher risks than ever before. The media landscape has tilted heavily towards the ruling establishment. The public sphere is now more polarised than ever before, and the institutions are struggling to maintain their autonomy.
Even the idea of citizenship has been reinterpreted. Once, citizenship was tied to common membership in a democratic community. Today, though, it is linked to loyalty, identity, and alignment with a certain cultural narrative preferred by those in power. Laws relating to citizenship, migration, and national security are debated in ways that focus on religious and ideological aspects. The shift is not exactly explicit in legal terms, but in political language, it is pretty evident.
The change is also visible in everyday life. The early republic built its legitimacy and authority on the idea of fairness and equality before the law. Today, it feels that the same laws are applied unevenly and unfairly. Bulldozer demolitions, crowd violence, and selective policing have created an atmosphere where the rule of law feels compromised. The republic still speaks in the language of constitutionalism, but the practice often departs from it.
That being said, it would be misleading to claim that one era was wholly ideal and the other wholly compromised. The early republic had deep blind spots, the caste hierarchy, gender inequality, a centralising state, and weak protections for civil liberties during moments of crisis like the Emergency. Many communities felt excluded even then.
Still, the overall director of change raises an important question that must be answered. What kind of republic does India want to be? The real contrast is not between a utopia and a dystopia. It is between two different and distinct visions of nationhood. One sees the republic as a shared civic space held together by law, pluralism, and norms that restrain power. The other sees it as a cultural entity. One that is defined by majoritarian identity, rapid wealth concentration, and a foreign policy that focuses on strength and not principles.
The future will depend on how seriously citizens take the basic promise of the constitution. If that promise survives in public memory, the older republic does not disappear. It remains a reference point, a reminder that India was once committed to an idea of justice that ran deeper than spectacle. If that memory fades, the newer republic will define the era entirely. The direction that India and its people choose will tell us which story becomes the lasting one.
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