The controversy surrounding the observance of “Samvidhan Hatya Diwas” once again raises an important question: Why should remembering one of the darkest chapters in Bharat’s democratic history be objectionable?
As someone who grew up with sympathies for the Congress and even held positions in the National Students’ Union of India (NSUI) during my youth, I find the current opposition to commemorating the Emergency somewhat perplexing. A mature democracy should not fear revisiting uncomfortable chapters of its past. Rather, it should learn from them.
The Emergency imposed on June 25, 1975, remains a defining moment in independent Bharat’s political history. It was a period when democratic institutions came under severe strain. Civil liberties were suspended, political opponents were arrested, press freedoms were curtailed, and dissent was often treated as a threat to the state. These are not matters of political interpretation but historical facts.
The political circumstances that led to the Emergency are well documented. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was facing mounting political challenges, including growing public dissatisfaction, economic difficulties, student-led protests, labour unrest, and a united opposition movement under the leadership of Jayaprakash Narayan. The Allahabad High Court judgment invalidating her election further intensified the crisis.
What made that period remarkable was the unprecedented unity among opposition forces. Leaders and parties from diverse ideological backgrounds set aside their differences in defence of democratic principles. Socialists, the Jana Sangh, Gandhian groups and several regional formations rallied behind Jayaprakash Narayan, whose moral authority transcended party lines. It is difficult to imagine a similar political convergence in contemporary Bharat.
Many prominent leaders paid a heavy personal price during those years. Thousands of political workers, activists, journalists, trade union leaders and students were detained. George Fernandes became a symbol of resistance. So did leaders such as Atal Bihari Vajpayee, Lal Krishna Advani, Morarji Desai, and numerous others who found themselves imprisoned for opposing the government.
The judiciary, too, faced immense pressure. While some institutions resisted, the broader lesson from that period remains that constitutional safeguards are only as strong as society’s and institutions’ willingness to defend them.
Against this backdrop, what exactly is wrong with teaching future generations about the Emergency? Why should students not learn how democratic rights can be curtailed when power becomes excessively concentrated? Nations routinely educate their youth about difficult and even shameful episodes in their history. Doing so is not an act of political vendetta but a democratic necessity.
The argument becomes even more compelling as Bharat approaches the centenary of Independence in 2047. A confident nation should neither erase nor selectively remember history. It should celebrate its achievements while honestly confronting its mistakes.
Critics may object to the nomenclature “Samvidhan Hatya Diwas.” They are entitled to their political opinion. However, opposing the inclusion of Emergency-era events in textbooks or public discourse is far harder to justify. The younger generation deserves to know how democratic institutions were tested and how citizens, political leaders and civil society responded.
History should not be confined to narratives that make political parties comfortable. It should reflect the full spectrum of Bharat’s journey, including episodes that serve as warnings for future generations.
Remembering the Emergency is not about settling political scores. It is about ensuring that the mistakes of the past are neither forgotten nor repeated. Democracies survive not merely through elections, but through collective memory. And some chapters of history are too important to be allowed to fade away.
