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.