Democracy without dissent is like a bonsai

THE protests led by young people in Nepal serve as a reminder that democracy cannot be reduced to the whims of insular regimes. In silencing dissent, manipulating institutions or treating citizens as passive subjects, elected governments hollow out the very essence of democratic life.

The youth are reclaiming the promise of democracy itself, asserting that people's will, not authoritarian impulses, must remain at the core of governance. They are not merely demanding this thing or that, but expressing their deep discontent with their government.

High unemployment, glaring income inequality, political corruption and the conspicuous consumption of super elites have long plagued governments across the world. Social media makes opacity unsustainable. Information spreads fast and citizens organise with remarkable speed.

Much like Sri Lanka and Bangladesh before it, Nepal has witnessed an eruption of frustration from the young and jobless, who increasingly see little stake in the promises of the political class. The anger is real and rooted. But the descent into violence is tragic as it usually gives the establishment an opportunity for brutal crackdowns.

The death count in Nepal has touched 51. A report in the Himal South Asian contextualises the figure by noting that “during the second jana andolan in 2006, which wrested the country back from the absolutist claws of the monarchy, 18 people were killed over 19 days of protest.”

But the responsibility for the violence on the streets must be shared by the establishment. When the pressure valves of democracy are screwed tight, there is little to stop it from imploding.

Experiences show that democracy is not sustained merely by the ritual of periodic elections or the existence of formal institutions. Its true lifeblood is dissent — the spaces and opportunities to question, to disagree and to challenge authority.

The essence of democracy lies in its openness, in its ability to absorb dissent, to spread its roots deep into the soil of society and to branch out in directions that reflect the will of the people. To restrict it or to confine it to the shape desired by those in power is to turn it into a bonsai — decorative, miniature and lifeless beyond its appearance.

Unfortunately, in recent times, dissent is too often misunderstood as disruption. Yet, history tells us otherwise: dissent is what has expanded rights, corrected wrongs and deepened freedoms. Every democratic advance has been rooted in the refusal to accept silence as consent.

It is the questioning voice that prevents complacency, the alternative vision that enriches debate and the restless spirit that ensures that freedom does not wither into conformity. Democracy grows in the soil of dissent. To erode that soil is to risk uprooting the very tree.

Though India's roots in democracy are far more entrenched than those of many of its neighbours, even here, the soil of dissent is being steadily eroded. The ritual of elections continues, but democracy cannot be reduced to numbers alone.

Governments may celebrate majorities, yet true democracy also requires respect for minority voices, for uncomfortable questions, for sharp criticism. To brand dissent as "anti-national" is to confuse obedience with patriotism. It is a dangerous lie that weakens the republic.

Our own freedom struggle was born out of dissent —against the British empire, against exploitation, against injustice. If dissent was treason, then the makers of our freedom were all traitors. Instead, they became the architects of the world's largest democracy. Yet today, writers, journalists, students, activists and even ordinary citizens face intimidation for speaking truth to power. Many are jailed as a result of a judiciary loath to apply the law strictly and consistently.

Parliament, once a sanctuary for robust debate, is too often reduced to a stage-managed performance where uncomfortable questions are drowned out. The media, which should be the mirror of democracy, has almost become its heavy curtain. And the citizen, whose right it is to question, is told to watch in silence.

Looking at the range of institutions the young people in Nepal expressed their ire against, it is easy to understand how deep and pervasive their discontent against all parts of the establishment runs. Protestors stormed and torched party offices, parliament, the judiciary and media headquarters.

The democratic backsliding visible across continents should alarm us as well. In Turkey, dissenters are branded enemies of the nation. When older, established democratic traditions face such crises, the fragility of democracy in newer or struggling states becomes even more evident.

By our conduct, we must send a message to our neighbours and to the world: a democracy without dissent is like a tree denied sunlight, air and water. It may retain the image of a tree, but it is a bonsai in essence.

To prune democracy into a bonsai, ornamental and controlled, may please those in power, but it robs the people of shade, fruit and shelter. The world deserves a democracy that grows like a full tree that offers shelter, shade and sustenance for generations.

Manoj Kumar Jha is a RJD Rajya Sabha MP.