Santayana famously told us that those who do not learn from history are condemned to repeat it. Even if history does not repeat itself, Mark Twain wisecracked, it often rhymes. I often aver, if you don’t know where you are coming from, then how can you appreciate where you are going? When it comes to democratic experiences, this caveat becomes even more important.

We have seen far too many failed democratic endeavours in the 20th century to ignore the warning signs in the 21st. As Indian democracy thankfully returns to its boisterous normal after humbling an arrogant BJP at the polls this year, it is the perfect time to revisit our democratic trajectory and understand the drivers that have shaped it – to see what offers hope, and what we should avoid.

This is where a thoughtful new book, Radha Kumar’s Republic Relearnt, has intrigued me. Grounded in the topical discourse on democratic backsliding, Kumar’s contribution reads as a thoughtful tour d’horizon of Indian democracy, constitutionalism, its foundations, and how politics in independent India has engaged with its institutional setup -- exploring, among other themes, the Constituent Assembly Debates, fundamental rights and their realisation, political representation, federalism and regionalism, secularism and the Hindu nationalist challenge, police reform, and the evolving relationship (and conflicts) between organs of government, punctuated by the political milestones that have driven and challenged Indian democracy in its nearly 77-year-old journey.

Acknowledging the depth of democratic erosion India has seen under Modi, one of the most provocative questions Kumar poses is whether the republic that lasted from 1950 to 2014 has been systemically rendered an anachronism. Are we seeing the rise of what many have called a “Second Republic”? While I am personally of the opinion that there is only one foundational Republic (which is still very much intact until we have a constitutional amendment inaugurating a Second), I am sympathetic to the anxieties that have driven scholars to theorise such a formulation in recent years.

Kumar defines a Second Republic as “the overthrow of an existing system and its replacement by a diametrically different, often autocratic one, as was the case in France and Portugal.” She locates this in the BJP’s aggressive promotion of the claim that India is ‘one nation’, formed by its Hindu majority and defined by the RSS’ tenet of cultural nationalism, that all Indians must follow the Hindutva ‘way of life’.

She also reiterates a lament I’ve highlighted for a long time now – the undermining of India’s already limited federalism through the rise of a coercive and combative effort to centralise power in the Union at the expense of the States. Combined with the ‘shock and awe’ tactics we have seen since 2014 -- the PM’s disastrous big-ticket announcements like demonetization and the Covid-19 lockdowns being key examples -- we are living a recipe for democratic disaster. I would add to this the brazen assault on institutions, which has led to a striking dilution of their independence at the highest levels. From financial regulators like the Reserve Bank to institutions of accountability like the Central Information Commission, questions have been raised about even hitherto sacrosanct bodies like the Election Commission and the upper echelons of the Armed Forces. Parliament, judiciary and particularly the press are widely perceived as insufficiently free of the government’s influence.

Undoubtedly, most pillars of the ‘First Republic’ stand fiercely contested today. The ingredients of a Second Republic were falling into place until the Indian electorate stopped that process in its tracks in 2024.

At the core of Kumar’s analysis (completed before the election) are what she terms the 'Three Waves of Democracy Renewal': an intriguing spin on Huntington’s classic thesis from Clash of Civilisations. He had famously proposed that democracy comes in global waves; Kumar extrapolates that paradigm to India, while discarding his thesis of 'a clash of civilizations'.

The Three Waves of Democracy Renewal in India, for her, are the periods from 1977 and 1980, 1989 to 1998, and 2004 to 2014 respectively. The First Wave built on the post-Emergency zeitgeist, with greater checks on government and safeguards for media autonomy, besides more meaningful civil society engagement. The Second Wave, concomitant with the liberalisation of the Indian economy, created oversight institutions (e.g., the human rights and women’s rights commissions and devolution of powers through the panchayati raj system) that were to become a bulwark against executive tyranny. The Third Wave, which she associates with the UPA government (of which I was fortunate enough to be a member) represented in her theory “the most far-reaching bundle of reforms since the Nehru administration”.

While being nuanced enough to cede that key flaws in Indian democracy have been present from its very inception, this theorisation has great utility in recognising how the growth of democracy ebbs and flows, and there are lessons to be learnt from both. This structure in the book’s key argument also allows the reader to make sense of the myriad contradictions that our democracy contains.

Radha Kumar’s method transcends a mere overview of Indian democracy -- she seeks to italicise how we can learn from that appraisal. Kumar’s useful historical approach perhaps offers valuable takeaways for well-wishers of Indian democracy. Her explication of the paradox of political Hindutva’s rise during the UPA (a period she terms as the most comprehensive wave of democracy renewal) is a good example.

Drawing a parallel to Germany’s Weimar Republic, she asserts, “neither the German republicans nor the Singh administration were able to develop a narrative to counter their populist and/or xenophobic opponents”. Thus, even the most vibrant periods of democratic history can give birth to its vitriolic reversal in the future.

Finally, Kumar’s assessment of India’s complex democratic trajectory envisages a possible 'Third Republic' which would be driven by a 'new wave of democratic renewal'. Indian democrats, she argues, can win popular support when they can convince the masses of the essence of the constitutional vision.

For her, the best pathway to do so is to champion reforms -- economic, administrative, political, social and environmental – and stand by them with a willingness to adapt to sensible rejoinders. That is precisely what the UPA did -- from MGNREGA to RTI and the citizen-centric Common Minimum Programme. As a legislator, I have seen first-hand how difficult that has been since 2014 with the Modi government treating Parliament as a mere notice board and rubber-stamp for the PM’s decisions.

The creation of an overblown cult of personality has worsened the situation. When government is more about a person than about the people, democracy is in peril.

Eternal vigilance, the old saw goes, is the price of liberty. This takes me back to the need to draw the right lessons from history. We can (as Hindutva bhakts are wont to do) use history as an axe to bludgeon those dissimilar to us, or alternatively, as a guide to do better in building a more substantively democratic future.

There is no doubt that we are a democratic republic, warts and all. Only by consistently “relearning” our Republic, though – asking uncomfortable questions from India’s often chequered experience – can we anchor Indian democracy more firmly in the face of current and future onslaughts. Radha Kumar has done her bit to show us the light. It is high time we all do ours to shore up our democratic Republic.

Book: The Republic Relearnt: Renewing Indian Democracy (1947-2024) by Radha Kumar, Penguin Random Publishing, 2024