The Death of Civic Sense in India

In a few days, India will celebrate its 77th Republic Day. Across the nation, societies in metropolitan cities, village squares, and schools will gather to unfurl the tricolor. Rallies will be held, hawkers will sell miniature flags, and lapel pins will be proudly worn. The atmosphere will be charged with patriotic fervor.

Yet beneath this spectacle lies a sobering truth: most of us struggle to explain the true significance of this day. Patriotism has been reduced to slogans, salutes, and symbolic gestures. Ask around, and you’ll hear familiar refrains—giving one’s life for the country, defending against foreign enemies, standing in respect during the national anthem. But in this narrow definition, we miss the essence of patriotism.

Patriotism Beyond Gestures

True patriotism is not confined to grand displays. At its core, it means respect for our country—treating it with dignity and ensuring it is seen in good light before the world. And this is where we Indians often fall short.

We bristle when India is labeled a “developing” country, yet the reality is hard to deny. Abroad, clean streets, orderly traffic, and well-maintained public spaces are the norm. Contrast that with India, where littering, spitting, urinating in public, and casual disregard for hygiene are everyday sights. The very flags waved with patriotic fervor often end up discarded on the roadside within hours.

The Paan and Gutka Plague

One of the most glaring examples of civic indifference is the widespread consumption of paan and gutka. These chewing preparations leave behind red stains on roads, railway stations, hospitals, and markets. Studies estimate that gutka chewers in India spit so much that in a year the volume could fill over 100 Olympic-sized swimming pools.

The problem has seeped into institutions: in Gujarat, a junior judge was caught chewing gutka on the dais of a courtroom. In Uttar Pradesh, the state assembly banned gutka after an MLA was caught spitting on the carpet. Sadly, Indians have carried this bad habit abroad too—reports of paan-stained streets in London are a national embarrassment.

The Swachh Bharat (Clean India) mission, launched in 2014, did achieve progress—millions of toilets constructed and claims of ODF status by 2019. Yet cities still struggle with waste management, raising doubts about sustainability. Too often, the mission has been reduced to photo opportunities: leaders wielding brooms for the camera, sometimes with aides scattering garbage beforehand to stage the spectacle.

Just weeks ago in my hometown, a truck spilled gravel and sand on the road. A scooter slipped, injuring the rider. As the crowd cursed the company and demanded action, I worried more accidents would follow. So I picked up a broom and swept the road in front of my house, urging neighbors to do the same. They scoffed, saying it wasn’t their job. I agreed it wasn’t mine either, but reasoned that doing a little bit for my neighborhood did not diminish me. If everyone took responsibility for their immediate surroundings, it would be a good start toward Swachh Bharat.

Traffic Indiscipline

Traffic indiscipline is another daily reminder of our disregard for civic responsibility. Lane discipline is ignored, seatbelts and helmets are treated as optional, wrong-side driving is rampant, and incessant honking fills the air. Licenses are easily obtained without proper training, enforcement is lax, and corruption allows offenders to escape accountability.

Years ago, while living in Delhi, I noticed a troubling pattern. Returning home late at night, I saw that all vehicles ran red lights while I tried to obey traffic laws. Friends later advised me to “go with the traffic flow,” warning that stopping at a red light could get me rear-ended. Reluctantly, I too joined the bandwagon of disregarding traffic lights. This reflects the normalization of indiscipline and the pressure to conform to unsafe practices.

Even laws designed to save lives are disregarded. Many drivers wear seatbelts only when a policeman is in sight. Rear-seat passengers dismiss seatbelts as “uncomfortable.” The tragic death of industrialist Cyrus Mistry is a stark reminder: despite being well-traveled and educated, he ignored the rear-seat belt, and when the car crashed, both he and a fellow passenger died instantly. Experts noted they might have survived had they respected this basic safety rule.

Misuse of Religious Exemptions

Religious exemptions have also been misused to resist civic responsibility. For years, Sikh women in Punjab, Haryana, and Chandigarh refused to wear helmets, claiming it violated their religious rights. They argued that if their husbands were exempt due to turbans, they too should be exempt. Finally, in 2024, the Punjab & Haryana High Court clarified that only Sikhs wearing turbans are exempt; Sikh women not wearing turbans must wear helmets. It was a reminder that civic sense cannot be compromised, even in the name of tradition.

Atithi Devo Bhava Betrayed

In our country, the phrase Atithi Devo Bhava—“The guest is equivalent to God”—is frequently invoked. Yet it becomes a matter of national shame when visiting tourists are cheated, molested, or even raped. Reading foreign advisories cautioning citizens against visiting India is deeply hurtful.

India’s economy needs foreign tourists, and we must ensure their trips are pleasant, safe, and memorable. Word-of-mouth reviews from satisfied visitors are the most powerful advertisement for our nation. To its credit, the government has introduced tourist police units and multilingual helplines, but these measures must be strengthened and enforced consistently.

Closing Thought

India’s Republic Day is meant to celebrate the values enshrined in our Constitution—justice, liberty, equality, and fraternity. Yet these values ring hollow when our everyday behavior disrespects the very nation we claim to love. Patriotism is not proven by waving flags or shouting slogans; it is lived in the discipline of our streets, the cleanliness of our public spaces, and the respect we show to fellow citizens.