![]() |
Sister Nivedita |
A blog dedicated to philosophy, history, politics, literature
Pages
Sunday, July 31, 2022
Sister Nivedita Versus Mother Teresa
Saturday, July 30, 2022
Vande Mataram and the Imagery of Bharat Mata
![]() |
A N Tagore’s 1906 painting of Bharat Mata |
Friday, July 29, 2022
Majumdar: On the Cult of Non-Violence
![]() |
R. C. Majumdar |
Thursday, July 28, 2022
On Tagore’s Failure to Defend Vande Mataram
![]() |
Tagore Chatterjee |
Wednesday, July 27, 2022
Sri Aurobindo: On Vande Mataram
![]() |
Sri Aurobindo |
Tuesday, July 26, 2022
On Lalchand’s Book: Self-Abnegation in Politics
Monday, July 25, 2022
On Sanatana Dharma
Sunday, July 24, 2022
Shamshera: A Spiteful Movie
![]() |
Sanjay Dutt as Shuddhi Singh |
Saturday, July 23, 2022
On Mukerji’s Book: A Dying Race
Friday, July 22, 2022
Boris Johnson’s Final Words: “Hasta la vista, baby”
![]() |
Boris Johnson |
Thursday, July 21, 2022
Mahatma Gandhi and V. D. Savarkar
![]() |
V. D. Savarkar |
Wednesday, July 20, 2022
Bhagwat and Jinping: On National Culture
Tuesday, July 19, 2022
A Note on Swami Shraddhanand
![]() |
Swami Shraddhanand |
Monday, July 18, 2022
Mahatma Gandhi and the Khilafat Movement
![]() |
R. C. Majumdar |
Sunday, July 17, 2022
Vande Mataram: The Nationalist Song
![]() |
Bankim Chandra Chatterjee |
Saturday, July 16, 2022
Naipaul on the Ram Temple in Ayodhya
![]() |
The Planned Structure of the Ram Temple |
Friday, July 15, 2022
Nirad C. Chaudhuri: The Lost Temples of North India
![]() |
Photograph of the ruins of Somnath Temple taken in 1869 |
Thursday, July 14, 2022
Dr. Rajendra Prasad’s Speech at the Somnath Temple
![]() |
Rajendra Prasad |
Wednesday, July 13, 2022
The Reconstruction of the Somnath Temple
![]() |
Somnath Temple |
Tuesday, July 12, 2022
T. N. Madan on the Problem of Secularism
Monday, July 11, 2022
The Four Pillars of Nehru’s Political Order
Sunday, July 10, 2022
2019 Election as the Third Battle of Panipat
The Aim of the Government
Saturday, July 9, 2022
Indian Politics and Hindu Nationalism
Sheikh Abdullah’s 1953 Meetings With Adlai Stevenson
Thursday, July 7, 2022
Ram Swarup on Christianity and Islam
Wednesday, July 6, 2022
Sardar Patel and Churchill’s Princestan
Tuesday, July 5, 2022
On The Somnath Temple
![]() |
Somnath Temple |
Monday, July 4, 2022
Remembering the Shah Bano Case
Sunday, July 3, 2022
W. C. Smith’s View of Islam in India
Saturday, July 2, 2022
A View of the Bangladesh War
Patel’s Warning About Chinese Communism
Friday, July 1, 2022
Amartya Sen and the pedagogy of pessimism: A critical reflection
Today’s newspapers carry yet another set of pronouncements from Professor Amartya Sen—statements that reveal more about the speaker’s ideological anxieties than the complex realities of India. Describing the present moment as one of "national collapse," Sen draws a direct line between the arrest of activist Teesta Setalvad and the alleged erosion of India’s democratic foundations. He laments that “colonial laws” are being used to incarcerate individuals, as though this were a novel betrayal of constitutional values.
One is compelled to ask: Is it truly “extraordinary,” as Sen puts it, that colonial-era laws remain on the statute books?
These laws have been part of the Indian legal framework since independence. Their presence is not a sudden deviation from liberal norms, but a structural continuity—one that successive governments, particularly those led by the Congress Party, chose not to dismantle. Given that Professor Sen has long been a vocal admirer of the Nehru-Gandhi lineage, it is worth reflecting on why his outrage emerges selectively—often when individuals sympathetic to his ideological worldview face legal scrutiny.
The case of Teesta Setalvad is illustrative. While it is appropriate—and necessary—for due process to protect all citizens, the presumption that any legal action against a public figure constitutes an existential threat to democracy must be tested against evidence, not ideological proximity. To invoke "collapse" at every moment of institutional disagreement is not analysis; it is hyperbole.
Sen’s views on Indian culture, too, reflect a familiar—albeit dated—rhetoric of civilizational harmony, in which he names Dara Shikoh, Ravi Shankar, and the Taj Mahal as emblems of syncretic richness. These are undeniable treasures of India’s pluralist past. Yet his assertions acquire a selective hue when they omit entire chapters of suffering, such as the forced displacement of the Kashmiri Pandits—a tragedy that has found little space in his moral universe. If India is not to be “a country of Hindus only,” as he warns, then surely justice must extend to Hindus too, when they are victims of violence or erasure.
For decades, Professor Sen has enjoyed a privileged intellectual position, bolstered by global institutions that celebrate his advocacy for egalitarianism and welfare economics. Yet, it is precisely in these domains—economics and policy—that many critics find his prescriptions unconvincing. His continued support for central planning and statist models, even after the global retreat of socialist command economies, raises questions about the practical relevance of his theories in the 21st century.
Indeed, some observers have argued that the Congress Party’s electoral decline—particularly in 2014—was accelerated by its entanglement with left-liberal intellectuals whose worldview had grown increasingly disconnected from the aspirations of an emergent India. The romance with state paternalism and inherited elite consensus no longer resonated with a generation that sought dignity through opportunity, not entitlement.
Allegations surrounding Professor Sen’s role in controversies such as the Nalanda University project, and his association with land disputes involving Visva Bharati University, have further complicated his public standing. While such accusations should be assessed fairly and legally, they underscore the paradox of a moralist who is often spared the scrutiny he demands of others.
The Nobel Prize he received in 1998 was, without doubt, a recognition of intellectual contribution. But its conferral also cemented his role as a moral authority—one that many in India now view with increasing skepticism. For nearly three decades, Sen has spoken to India, not with it—his tone often reminiscent of a headmaster correcting wayward pupils. Yet a nation of 1.4 billion, with its complexities and contradictions, resists such paternalism.
It is time to ask whether India's public discourse needs less admonishment from above and more engagement from within—less nostalgia for inherited paradigms and more openness to the diverse voices shaping its future.