Fr. Gaurav Nair
It is hilarious to see that the ghost of Nehru, which Mr Modi and his band of merry men from the BJP-RSS have been trying to exorcise, has yet to leave the PM's office even after more than a decade. Narendra Modi and the Bharatiya Janata Party have conducted unrelenting political campaigns against Jawaharlal Nehru. They have blamed him for everything from Kashmir to China, from socialism to dynastic politics, from bureaucratic inertia to secularism itself. Yet, the one man they cannot seem to escape is Nehru.
For a man who died decades ago, his shadow looms larger than life in the imaginations of the saffronistas. They have to measure every milestone against him. Every achievement has to be benchmarked against him.
The recent celebration of Modiji's 4,399 days in the office is a perfect example of this tendency. Ministers performed havans, special prayers were offered in temples, and the government flooded the papers with advertisements blaring that our incumbent PM had surpassed the alpha. They confidently employed their oft-abused tactic: if they were loud enough, it would become the truth.
Even if one were to perfunctorily accept this meticulously qualified claim—which would require excluding a substantial part of Nehru's tenure and attaching conditions to the comparison—the more important question remains: what did each man do with power?
Nehru inherited a country that was devastated by colonial exploitation and Partition. India was poor, illiterate, disease-ridden and institutionally fragile. There was little to no industry, the shadow of an infrastructure, and virtually no scientific ecosystem. He did not inherit a functioning nation-state but a daunting civilisational project. His response to the mammoth was to build institutions.
The IITs, AIIMS, scientific laboratories, public sector enterprises, dams, research institutions, parliamentary traditions, an independent Election Commission, and a foreign policy rooted in strategic autonomy all emerged during that formative period. More importantly, Nehru championed scientific temper—the belief that reason, evidence and critical inquiry should guide public life.
Today, all those foundations stand at the cusp of being catapulted into oblivion. Mythology masquerading as history has replaced scientific temper; textbooks are teaching ideology; and cultural and educational institutions are headed by appointees based on their allegiance to the party project rather than their academic credentials. Democratic institutions, including the Election Commission and the Judiciary, dance at the behest of their political masters.
It is shameful to even recall that our PM has not addressed a single unscripted press conference. He has never been held accountable in the last decade. When the foreign media questions him, the IT cell launches their lowly hate campaigns. Critical journalists face intimidation, raids, lawsuits and harassment, and independent media organisations struggle to survive.
But maybe this is also why the ghost of Nehru refuses to die, because every comparison is a study in contrast between the reign of a giant and that of a self-proclaimed wide-chested man. One leader sought to build institutions; the other presides over their erosion. One expanded the democratic imagination; the other narrows it through division. One invested in reason, science and pluralism; the other thrives on grievance, mythology and majoritarianism.