Democracy for Display: The Illusion of Governance in New India

Aditya Dhaka, 6:55 p.m.

Welcome to New India—where your privacy is a luxury, truth is a PR stunt, and democracy is on life support.

In a land that once roared with the power of its Constitution—liberty, dignity, accountability—we now whisper under the weight of surveillance, suppression, and state-sponsored spectacle. Behind the blinding lights of election rallies, glowing press releases, and slogans that echo louder than substance, lies a silent coup against our rights.

What’s being sold as reform is often repression in disguise. What’s paraded as progress is a calculated power grab. This isn’t governance—it’s gaslighting at a national scale. And if you think you’re still free, maybe it’s time to ask: who’s watching you—and why?

THE DIGITAL PERSONAL DATA PROTECTION ACT, 2023

It was branded as a step toward securing citizens' digital rights, is ironically one of the most dangerous tools of state overreach in recent memory. While claiming to uphold privacy, it grants the Union Government sweeping exemptions under Section 17(2)—allowing any public authority to bypass the entire law on vague and undefined grounds like national security, public order, or preventing incitement to a cognizable offence. This is not protection; this is legalized surveillance. With no mandatory parliamentary oversight or judicial approval needed, the government essentially reserves the right to act as both data collector and data predator.

Even more chilling is how the law eliminates the right to be informed—one of the core principles of data protection globally. Sections 6 and 7 water down the obligations of data fiduciaries and remove mandatory breach notification. In effect, if your data is compromised, neither the company nor the government is bound to inform you. Compare that with the EU’s GDPR, where failure to disclose a breach can cost companies up to 4% of their global turnover. Here, there’s not even a slap on the wrist.

The Data Protection Board, which should act as a watchdog, is rendered toothless by design. Its members are handpicked by the Union Government, and their independence is purely fictional. When the regulator is in bed with the entity it is meant to regulate, citizens lose.

And as if that wasn’t dystopian enough, recent leaks and internal discussions have hinted at an upcoming legislative proposal allowing the government to access citizens’ WhatsApp, Instagram, and email content if they are suspected of tax evasion or misinformation—with no clear threshold or judicial filter. So now the government can see your WhatsApp family group chat messages because, you know, you are telling everything about your taxes to your family through WhatsApp. Essentially, you could become a surveillance target because someone flagged your meme. The lack of any definition of due process makes this bill a clear violation of the Right to Privacy, a fundamental right as declared by the Supreme Court in a landmark judgement.

We are not being protected—we are being watched. We’re trading our most intimate digital footprints in return for false promises of security, all while the state moves silently toward total control. 

THE PM CARES FUND

Set up in March 2020 as a national relief fund to combat COVID-19 and future emergencies, has become one of the most opaque and unaccountable financial entities in modern Indian governance. Despite collecting over ₹10,990 crore in just its first financial year (FY 2020-21), the fund refuses to fall under the ambit of the Right to Information Act (RTI), citing it as a private trust—a bizarre claim, considering it uses the Prime Minister’s name, emblem of India, and even government domain names and official staff. Why does a fund using public infrastructure and receiving public donations not come under public scrutiny?

Worse, no independent audit by the Comptroller and Auditor General (CAG) has been allowed. Instead, an audit was conducted by SARC & Associates, a firm whose founding partner Sunil Kumar Gupta has known affiliations with the government. In a democracy, transparency is the currency of trust, yet here we have no break-up of expenditure, no details of beneficiaries, and no knowledge of where ₹3,976.17 crore—claimed to have been spent in FY21—actually went.

Furthermore, public sector enterprises and employees were subtly coerced into donating. Major PSU banks, railways, and central government employees contributed crores under duress, and even foreign donations were accepted—something not allowed under the PM National Relief Fund (PMNRF), which PM CARES conveniently bypassed. What we’re seeing is the institutionalization of opacity under the guise of emergency.

PM CARES exemplifies how democratic accountability is being systematically eroded. In a country where even the Parliament is kept in the dark, it’s no longer just about relief; it’s about the centralization of power with no questions asked and no answers given.

RIGHT TO INFORMATION ACT, 2005

When the RTI Act was enacted in 2005, it was hailed as one of the most progressive transparency laws in the world—a law that empowered every Indian to question the powerful, hold bureaucracies accountable, and expose corruption. It was called the common man’s weapon against a faceless system. But what we are witnessing today is a calculated weakening of this fundamental tool of democracy.

In 2019, the government amended the RTI Act, stripping away the autonomy of Information Commissioners, who were previously appointed for a fixed five-year term with salaries and status equivalent to Election Commissioners. The amendment gave the Centre sweeping powers to decide their tenure, salaries, and terms of service, effectively reducing them to bureaucratic puppets. This move undermines the very independence that made RTI commissions effective—how can a watchdog bark when it’s being leashed by the very system it’s meant to monitor?

The data speaks volumes. According to the Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative, over 3 lakh RTI applications are pending across states and at the central level, and in some states like West Bengal and Maharashtra, Information Commissions have not even been functioning properly. In many cases, vacancies are deliberately left open, and appeals pile up for years, leaving citizens in limbo.

What’s worse is the culture of fear and hostility being cultivated around RTI. Since the Act came into force, more than 90 RTI activists have been murdered, many others assaulted or harassed, with barely any convictions. This chilling reality is compounded by a lack of institutional support—no witness protection, no response from authorities, and certainly no political will to investigate attacks on transparency.

And now, as we edge further into a surveillance-heavy, digitally controlled India, the government’s appetite to control information is only growing. We are watching in real-time how truth is being gatekept, and citizens reduced to spectators.

This is not governance; this is gaslighting on a national scale. And the cost is nothing less than our democratic soul.

The Indian people deserve better. Not just better policies—but leaders who fear questions, not questioners. We do not need more slogans. We need accountability. Vision. Transparency. Integrity. And courage—the kind that speaks truth to power even when it’s inconvenient.

Until then, it remains up to us—to write, to protest, to organize, to speak. Because silence is no longer an option, and neutrality is no longer innocence. In the battle between apathy and accountability, we must choose to stand with democracy—before there's nothing left to stand for.

Ah, behold the grand show, where politicians prance,

Promising the moon while they slyly dance.

The people’s rights? Well, they’ve turned to dust,

But don’t worry, darling, they’ve got power to trust.

Have a good one.