The Union government’s decision to replace MGNREGA with the Viksit Bharat Guarantee for Rozgar and Ajeevika Mission (Gramin) – VB-G Ram G Bill, 2025, has triggered predictable political outrage. The loudest protest, unsurprisingly, is not about livelihoods, wages, or accountability—but about the removal of Mahatma Gandhi’s name. This reaction, while emotionally charged, avoids the real question: does the new scheme better serve rural India’s employment needs in 2025 than a framework conceived two decades ago? At the outset, the Opposition is well within its democratic rights to question the renaming of a flagship welfare programme. Mahatma Gandhi remains a towering figure in India’s freedom movement, and his moral authority has long been invoked in public policy. Yet, democracy cuts both ways. An elected government, armed with a fresh mandate and a distinct developmental philosophy, also enjoys the legitimate right to rename, redesign, and recalibrate welfare schemes in line with its vision. History offers ample precedent. Since Independence, successive Congress governments institutionalised a culture of naming schemes, institutions, and policies after the Nehru-Gandhi family and associated icons. This was not merely homage; it was political branding. Over decades, governance and genealogy were fused so tightly that questioning either was deemed heresy. The Mahatma’s name, often invoked as moral cover, became inseparable from the Congress’s ideological self-image. The deeper unease today stems from something else: the gradual erosion of monopoly over historical narrative. For decades, school textbooks, official histories, and public discourse disproportionately glorified a narrow set of leaders while marginalising others—Subhas Chandra Bose, Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, Dr B.R. Ambedkar, and countless unsung revolutionaries. In recent years, alternative interpretations—backed by archival material, declassified documents, and scholarly reassessment—have entered public consciousness, aided by the democratisation of information through digital platforms.
This re-evaluation has not diminished Gandhi’s contributions, but it has humanised him—revealing complexities, contradictions, and contested decisions, particularly during the Partition years. The trauma of religious division, the handling of communal violence in places like Noakhali, and the political ascendancy of Jawaharlal Nehru despite limited provincial support remain subjects of legitimate debate. Similarly, the insertion of Articles 370 and 35A against the broader consensus of the Constituent Assembly, and Dr Ambedkar’s eventual political sidelining, have compelled many Indians to question long-held assumptions. Against this backdrop, the Modi government’s choice to foreground “Viksit Bharat”—a forward-looking, outcome-driven national vision—over symbolic reverence is neither impulsive nor iconoclastic. The VB-G Ram G scheme is not merely a rechristened programme; it promises structural reform. Unlike MGNREGA, often criticised for leakages, unproductive asset creation, and political misuse, the new framework aims to integrate skill development, rural entrepreneurship, asset-linked employment, and livelihood sustainability. Employment guarantee is retained—but with sharper accountability and future readiness. Critics argue that removing Gandhi’s name signals ideological hostility. That is a simplistic reading. Reverence for national figures does not require perpetual policy branding. India honours Gandhi through currency notes, national institutions, global recognition, and constitutional values. A welfare scheme need not carry a surname to be effective—or ethical. Ultimately, in a democracy, governments are judged not by names but by outcomes. If the VB-G Ram G Bill succeeds in generating durable rural employment, stemming distress migration, and aligning livelihoods with India’s growth trajectory, the renaming will be remembered as reform, not revisionism. The Congress, if convinced this change is an affront, has a clear remedy: return to power through performance and persuasion, not performative outrage. Until then, New Bharat appears more interested in results over relics, and development over dynasty—however uncomfortable that may be for those accustomed to governing through nostalgia.
