“Volunteers will pick up sticks to remove every obstacle that comes in the way of Sanatan and saints’ work.”
— RSS Chief Mohan Bhagwat (November 6, 2024, Chitrakoot)
Eleven months later, on October 6, 2025, a man who threw a shoe inside the Supreme Court shouted, “India will not tolerate insults to Sanatan.” This incident was not an isolated act but a continuation of a pattern seen over the past decade—attacks on intellectuals, writers, activists, and journalists, sometimes in the name of institutions, sometimes by individual actors or organizations.
The state is increasingly criminalizing dissent. From Rohith Vemula’s suicide to the murders of Narendra Dabholkar, Govind Pansare, M.M. Kalburgi, and Gauri Lankesh, and the imprisonment of Bhima-Koregaon activists, the suppression of critical voices by labeling them “anti-national” has been systematic. The death in custody of Father Stan Swamy, which was in effect a custodial killing, was part of the same chain. On university campuses, debate and dissent are branded as the work of the “tukde-tukde gang,” and professors and students face targeting. Thinkers are labeled “urban Naxals” or “traitors,” and now even judges are being placed in that category. This trend seeks to turn the essence of democracy—dissent, debate, and criticism—into a crime.
On January 27, 2020, Union Minister Anurag Thakur shouted the slogan, “Shoot the traitors of the nation.” Just weeks later, on February 23, 2020, communal riots broke out in Delhi, killing 53 people, injuring more than 400, and burning hundreds of homes and shops. Muslim youth in Delhi were imprisoned and are still awaiting justice. The same pattern has been witnessed with the Bhima-Koregaon activists, in tribal areas, in Jammu and Kashmir, Ladakh, and the North-East.
Democracy survives not merely through institutions but through civic consciousness. The judiciary has long symbolized the last hope for justice in India. But when judges, police, and administrators surrender constitutional values to a political ideology, institutions lose meaning. The justice system—already complex and expensive for the ordinary citizen—has become even more hostile to those who disagree with the government’s ideology. This trend became clearer after the BJP came to power. Intoxicated by its majority, the regime intensified pressure on the judiciary and began intimidating those who worked for justice.
Law Minister Kiren Rijiju once said, “The judiciary cannot replace the people’s elected representatives.” Similarly, Ravi Shankar Prasad described certain Supreme Court judgments as “against the popular mandate.” On April 17, 2025, Vice President Jagdeep Dhankhar told Rajya Sabha interns, “Article 142 has now become a nuclear missile against democratic forces, and the judiciary can use it 24×7.”
BJP MP Nishikant Dubey went further, declaring that “Chief Justice of India Sanjiv Khanna is responsible for all the civil wars happening in this country.” This was not a casual remark but a reflection of an ideological mindset that seeks to undermine judicial independence. It is a direct assault on the constitutional balance separating and safeguarding the moral frameworks of the legislature, executive, and judiciary.
Ironically, the Left once argued that these three pillars served capitalist power. Today, BJP ministers and MPs themselves are openly attacking the judiciary, attempting to establish Parliament as the supreme institution to which all others must submit. When legislators claim that the judiciary is provoking “civil war,” they legitimize hatred and violence against the very idea of justice. These are not mere words of disagreement—they are deliberate efforts to erode public trust in the courts so that every governmental action can be justified as “national interest.” Nishikant Dubey’s remarks represent the next stage of this ideological campaign, portraying the courts as enemies of the nation. Such rhetoric strengthens authoritarian centralization and clears the path for fascistic measures without resistance.
Whenever a judge questions arbitrary decisions of those in power, they are branded “anti-development,” “anti-India,” or “anarchist.” The judiciary, as an institution, has failed to protect the common people and has also failed to resist the poisonous ideology propagated by the RSS.
These ideological assaults are no longer confined to words—they are transforming public consciousness into violence. Just a month after Narendra Modi assumed power, IT professional Mohsin Shaikh was lynched in Pune. Members of the Hindu Rashtra Sena spread the message: “The first wicket has fallen.” Soon after, mob lynchings surged across India. In the Ramgarh lynching case, Union Minister Jayant Sinha garlanded eight convicted men. After Pehlu Khan’s lynching in Alwar, Sadhvi Kamal Didi met the accused and called him “the Bhagat Singh and Azad of our times,” adding, “If we do not act like this in our own country, where else will we?”
On September 8, 2015, Mohammad Akhlaq was dragged from his home and beaten to death over a rumor of cow slaughter. When writers returned their awards in protest, the BJP mocked them as the “award wapsi gang.” After the rape and murder of an eight-year-old girl in Kathua, a “tricolor rally” was organized in defense of the accused. In Rajasthan’s Rajsamand district, Shambhulal Regar killed laborer Mohammad Afrazul, filmed the act, and spread the video, claiming it was a case of “love jihad.” Processions were held in support of the murderer, and ₹2.75 lakh was raised for him.
Tripura’s Chief Minister even said of mob lynching, “A wave of joy is sweeping Tripura. You should also enjoy this wave. This is the people’s government, and the people themselves are taking action.” Such remarks show how private rage has evolved into institutional endorsement. What began with attacks on Muslims has expanded to Dalits, Adivasis, independent thinkers, and progressive organizations. When power, Parliament, and the media all align under one ideology, independent institutions inevitably become targets. Judges who maintain impartiality now face political attacks and ideological hostility. This trend was also visible during the vice-presidential election, when a retired judge was branded a “Naxal sympathizer” and “anti-national.”
The toxic ideology of figures like Mohan Bhagwat or Nishikant Dubey translates into violence through the hands of “madmen” armed with stones, knives, or bullets. This new form of power thrives on “ideological uniformity.” It needs no independent media, no independent judiciary, and no independent thinkers—only a single voice that echoes every decree of the state as a cheer. As the RSS celebrates its 100th year, this is the vision of India being glorified.
India today stands at a crossroads where justice, thought, and dissent are all under coordinated attack. Assaults on judges, threats to intellectuals, and fabricated cases are not isolated events but layers of a single ideological war. This is not merely a battle over law or justice—it is a struggle for the very soul of society. When dissent begins to be equated with treason, democracy survives only in the Constitution, not in the hearts of its people. Preventing this requires not only legal reform but a collective awakening of social conscience.
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*Social activist and journalist
Comments
politics mostly have their origins from the top whether from the British Raj after 1857 or from the kamandal upsurge led by the likes of L K Advani after the Mandal.