Debyani Khobragade was charged by U.S. authorities with visa fraud and providing false information, leading to her arrest and strip search. The Indian government reacted furiously, framing the incident as a matter of national identity. Public protests erupted across India, straining India-U.S. relations. Some media analysts linked the controversy to broader geopolitical issues, including the civil-nuclear deal and other ongoing diplomatic tensions. For many Indians, this episode was perceived as a humiliation inflicted by a militarily and economically dominant nation. However, India’s historical and civilizational pride, rooted in its ancient traditions and spiritual ethos, shaped the collective outrage. In contrast, little attention was given to the other side of the story—the Indian domestic worker, a poor and marginalized woman, who was allegedly a victim of exploitation. Her narrative remained largely overlooked, as it lacked the glamour and political significance of the diplomat’s plight.
The same Indian society that takes pride in its glorious past has also witnessed acts of violence against individuals deemed “outsiders.” A brutal attack on a man without an esteemed historical lineage did not provoke a comparable outcry, as mainstream politicians and media hesitated to label it a racist incident. Some dismissed it as an instance of regionalism or a common street altercation in Delhi, reflecting the reluctance of "enlightened" Indians to acknowledge racial prejudice within their own society. While regionalism remains a challenge, the fundamental rights enshrined in the Constitution are sufficient to address it—no additional laws are needed. However, the hypocrisy of Indian society is evident: people profess moral values and ethical principles but often fail to embody them in their actions.
The treatment of North-Eastern communities, particularly those of Mongoloid descent, highlights this contradiction. They are frequently subjected to stereotyping, being labeled as prostitutes, delinquents, or dog-eaters. Verbal, physical, economic, and psychological attacks against them are common, even in the nation’s capital. Given India's deep-rooted knowledge of geography, culture, and history, it is difficult to dismiss such prejudices as mere ignorance. Calling them “assumptions” would be an injustice to the widespread awareness of these biases.
In the wake of such attacks, political expediency took precedence. When a major political leader planned a rally in the North-East, his party’s stance suddenly shifted. However, hate crimes persisted. Two more individuals were stabbed, and a 14-year-old girl was raped in the city. North-Eastern organizations demanded anti-racial laws and swift justice. Meanwhile, The Hindu published articles on Rani Gaidinliu, sparking a renewed interest in the history of the North-East. Suddenly, both conventional and digital media were flooded with messages of solidarity. Some commentators drew connections between state apathy and the secessionist movements in the region. A surge in academic discussions and expressions of sympathy followed—but not at the cost of enacting anti-racial laws.
Tradition resists change, and people often fear it. This is why societal change is often perceived as a form of continuity rather than transformation. While few truly love tradition for its own sake, many remain apprehensive about new systems and structures. This resistance explains why racial discrimination persists despite public awareness of its existence. People deliberately believe in falsehoods. However, refusing to acknowledge a problem makes its resolution impossible. Indians must confront the reality that racial bias exists within their society and that individuals continue to be victimized based on their perceived social identities. Enacting an anti-racial law would instill confidence among marginalized racial communities and ensure accountability. Proper implementation of such legislation could reduce crimes against racial minorities and prevent figures like Somnath Bharti from misusing their constitutional authority.
Some may argue that existing provisions, such as the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, make additional anti-racial legislation unnecessary. However, this is the only viable legal mechanism through which India can genuinely respect its diverse population and uphold the principles of equity and social justice.
The Preamble of our Constitution begins with the words “We, the People,” yet this collective identity has been eroded by vote-bank politics, regionalism, and various forms of discrimination—whether based on caste, class, or race. Human beings, who should be valued as ends in themselves, are increasingly judged by their utility. The growing divide in contemporary society is fueling organizations driven by “primitive solidarity.” To build a just and inclusive society, we must actively work toward the well-being of all—and this commitment must be reflected in our actions, not just in our rhetoric.
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