India needs a political culture where facts should matter not propaganda

India’s political system is both unique and complicated. Until the early 1990s, Parliament and state legislatures were known for serious debates, policy alternatives and constructive criticism. Over the years, however, political discourse has increasingly shifted from governance to controversy-driven campaigns. Instead of using issues to push for institutional reforms, political parties now use them primarily as electoral weapons.

With Assembly elections due in Uttar Pradesh and Punjab in 2027, this trend has become even more evident. Rather than pursuing facts to their logical conclusion, almost every party appears focused on scoring political points. They raise an issue, embarrass the opponent and move on without ensuring lasting accountability.

The controversy surrounding Satluj, originally titled Punjab 95, has acquired political significance because Punjab goes to polls next year. The film is based on the life of human rights activist Jaswant Singh Khalra, who documented the alleged illegal cremations and extrajudicial killings during Punjab’s insurgency in the late 1980s and early 1990s. The censor board did not clear the film as its producers refused to implement 127 cuts the board had suggested and instead it was screened on OTT platforms using the legal loopholes. Now on the directions of the government, it has been taken off from OTT platforms.

Enraged over this, the Shiromani Akali Dal has announced statewide screenings, arguing that younger generations should know Punjab’s history. Critics, however, contend that the film presents only one side of a deeply traumatic period. While it highlights alleged human rights violations by the police, it gives relatively little attention to the brutal violence unleashed by Khalistani militants.

Thousands of civilians, police personnel, public servants and political leaders were killed during the insurgency. Equally significant was the role of Punjab police officers such as K P S Gill, whose counter-insurgency campaign is widely credited with restoring normalcy. A historical narrative that omits either state excesses or terrorist violence cannot claim to present the complete truth.

As expected, every political party has adopted a position shaped more by electoral calculations than historical balance.

The Akali Dal backs the film enthusiastically, seeing an opportunity to challenge the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) government if it tries to stop the screening of the film. At the same time, it accuses the Centre of restricting its release. The AAP government has permitted private screenings but criticised attempts to remove the film from OTT platforms.

The Congress, uncomfortable because the events occurred largely during its tenure, has avoided endorsing statewide screenings and instead questioned the political use of the film. The BJP has opposed attempts to turn the film into an election campaign while accusing its rivals of presenting a selective interpretation of history.

Similarly, the alleged theft of donation money at the Ram Janmabhoomi temple in Ayodhya offers another example of how India’s political class has perfected the art of converting every public issue into an election narrative.

The Ram Janmabhoomi temple donation controversy, popularly dubbed “Chanda Chori”, is a classic example.

The Samajwadi Party quickly transformed allegations of theft into a political attack on the Vishva Hindu Parishad (VHP), the RSS, Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath and Prime Minister Narendra Modi. It succeeded because the temple administration failed the first test of crisis management—speed and transparency.

Instead of responding decisively, the VHP initially stood firmly behind Ram Janmabhoomi Trust General Secretary Champat Rai and Trustee Anil Mishra despite mounting allegations. Although reports suggested that both had offered to resign, the organisation delayed accepting their resignations, citing procedural formalities. The explanation convinced few.

In the digital era, emergency meetings can be convened within hours, if need be, virtually. A trust administering one of the country’s most important religious institutions could easily have done the same. Every day’s delay strengthened the opposition’s allegation that damage control had taken precedence over accountability.

The investigation raised uncomfortable questions. The delay in registering an FIR, the absence of senior trust members among the accused despite prolonged questioning and the slow pace of visible action fuelled public suspicion. The FIR was reportedly filed only after the Special Investigation Team (SIT) submitted its preliminary findings.

The SIT has since arrested eight persons, recovered cash, jewellery, gold and a vehicle, frozen multiple bank accounts and begun investigating whether stolen money was invested in the stock market. Investigators claim that nearly 70 instances of alleged theft took place within about 40 days. They also identified major violations of standard operating procedures, including inadequate frisking and poor CCTV surveillance.

Eventually, the trust accepted the resignations of Champat Rai and Anil Mishra and appointed a professional Chief Executive Officer. The VHP acknowledged serious lapses and promised institutional reforms. Yet the most important question remains unanswered: how much money has actually disappeared? Opposition estimates range from ₹200 crore to ₹2,000 crore, prompting demands for a CBI investigation under Supreme Court supervision. Politically, the controversy has undoubtedly dented the credibility of organisations associated with the Ram Temple movement. Whether it significantly affects the BJP’s electoral prospects in Uttar Pradesh remains uncertain, but the opposition has already secured a powerful campaign issue.

If opposition parties genuinely believed financial irregularities had continued for years, why did they become vocal only as elections approached? Accountability loses much of its credibility when it follows the electoral calendar rather than public interest.

The same selective outrage is likely to surface in another controversy that the BJP is expected to use as a political counterattack.

The Indo-Islamic Cultural Foundation, established after the Supreme Court’s 2019 Ayodhya judgment to build the new Babri Masjid along with a hospital, library and community kitchen, has collected donations for several years. Allegations regarding financial irregularities have surfaced periodically, yet no official investigation or FIR has followed.

The BJP is expected to highlight these allegations to blunt the impact of “Chanda Chori”. The opposition, meanwhile, is unlikely to demand a court-monitored probe for fear of alienating sections of its political support base. This is not accountability; it is competitive hypocrisy.

One side demands transparency only from institutions associated with its opponents, while the other discovers concern for financial propriety only when politically convenient. Public trust becomes the biggest casualty.

The larger tragedy is that controversies over donations, films and historical narratives are likely to receive far greater attention during election campaigns than unemployment, education, healthcare, inflation, agriculture, investment or job creation. Electoral politics increasingly rewards emotional mobilisation rather than policy debate. India’s democracy does not suffer from a shortage of controversies; it suffers from a shortage of consistency. Political parties demand transparency only from their opponents, defend institutions aligned with themselves and rediscover moral outrage whenever elections approach. Until this culture changes, controversies will continue to dominate campaigns while governance recedes into the background.

Ultimately, it is for the voter to judge governments and oppositions alike by the same standards rather than by the volume of their election-time rhetoric.

(The author is former Chief Editor of The Hans India)