The man who broke India’s rules

ON his 75th birthday, India’s media orchestrated a familiar spectacle: Narendra Modi, the “indispensable leader,” celebrated as the man India supposedly cannot do without.

Yet behind the state-managed imagery lies an unsettling reality. Modi is not the guardian of Indian democracy he is its gravest threat. His political journey has been defined not by service, but by systematically breaking rules, eroding institutions and tightening the grip of authoritarianism.

Modi’s career was forged in blood. As Chief Minister of Gujarat during the 2002 pogrom, he presided over one of independent India’s darkest chapters. More than 2,000 people, mostly Muslims, were killed, tens of thousands displaced and communities permanently ghettoized. Internationally, his role in those atrocities led to travel bans from the United States, the UK and Europe. But domestically, the violence became his political launchpad, transforming him into the Hindutva icon of the RSS and the BJP. Majoritarian violence had been converted into electoral currency and Modi never looked back.

At 75, he now defies even the ideological parent of his own party. The Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh enforced a strict retirement rule at this age, a principle applied to leaders like L.K. Advani and Murli Manohar Joshi. Modi has overridden it, elevating his cult of personality above discipline, party and ideology. Rules apply to all, except him. The cost for India has been profound. Under Modi, lynchings of Muslims, attacks on Christians, humiliation of Dalits, bulldozer demolitions of Muslim homes and the passage of discriminatory laws such as the Citizenship Amendment Act have institutionalized Hindutva extremism. The pluralism that once defined India has been hollowed out.

Kashmir offers perhaps the starkest example. The revocation of Article 370 stripped the region of its autonomy and turned the valley into one of the most militarized zones on earth. Internet shutdowns, detention of activists and media curbs transformed a constitutional promise into an occupation. Dissent nationwide has been ruthlessly silenced. Opposition leaders face politically motivated charges, journalists are raided and harassed and critics are branded “anti-national.” Global indices reflect this decline: Freedom House has downgraded India to “Partly Free,” while the Press Freedom Index ranks it among the lowest worldwide.

Economically, the promise of prosperity has collapsed into inequality. Unemployment has hit record highs, farmers are drowning in debt and policies like demonetization and a flawed GST crippled small businesses. Meanwhile, crony capitalism thrives, with conglomerates like Adani and Ambani flourishing as millions sink deeper into poverty. Internationally, Modi’s India has become isolated. Allegations of extraterritorial assassinations have strained relations with Canada, the US and the UK. South Asian neighbours are alienated and rights groups repeatedly condemn India’s human rights record. Once a leader of the Global South, India now appears more as an oppressor than an example.

At 75, Modi represents not wisdom but excess. By disregarding laws, institutions and even his own ideological roots, he has signalled that nothing, not tradition, not the Constitution, not democracy itself can restrain him. India stands at a crossroads: remain shackled by authoritarianism or reclaim the pluralist, democratic republic envisioned at independence. For the survival of its democracy, India does not need Modi. It needs change.

—The writer is contributing columnist, based in Rawalpindi.

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