“Everybody Is a Thief” Is Not Political Wisdom. It Is National Surrender

 

“Everybody Is a Thief” Is Not Political Wisdom. It Is National Surrender

Hindi Version: https://rakeshinsightfulgaze.blogspot.com/2026/06/blog-post_13.html

One of the most dangerous phrases in Indian politics today is this: “Everybody is a thief.”

People say it casually during political discussions, especially many who once strongly supported Narendra Modi and the BJP. The moment anyone points to positive work done by an opposition government, whether in education, healthcare, or public services, the conversation immediately ends with cynical resignation: “Sab chor hain.”

But this statement is not wisdom. It is surrender. It is a way of escaping accountability after years of defending a political model that survives not by solving problems, but by dividing people emotionally, religiously, and socially. Once politics becomes entirely about hatred, identity, and propaganda, governance itself stops mattering. Roads, schools, jobs, inflation, poverty, and public institutions all become secondary.

And that is exactly where India is heading. For years, people were told that nationalism alone would solve economic decline. Citizens were emotionally mobilized through religion, television spectacle, hyper-nationalist media, Bollywood glamour, cricket leagues, and nonstop political branding. On the surface, India appears loud, powerful, and confident. The IPL grows bigger. Celebrity culture dominates social media. Television studios scream about patriotism every night.

But beneath the spectacle, the cracks are visible everywhere. Youth unemployment remains severe. Economic inequality continues to widen. Public discourse has collapsed into abuse and propaganda. Institutions that once acted independently increasingly face political pressure. Social divisions are sharper than ever. Instead of discussing education quality, economic productivity, healthcare access, or scientific progress, the national conversation is repeatedly dragged back toward religion, identity wars, and manufactured outrage.

A country cannot build a stable future on permanent emotional polarization. That is why the phrase “everybody is a thief” becomes so dangerous. It creates moral paralysis. If everyone is equally corrupt, then nobody needs to be held accountable. Governance no longer matters. Facts no longer matter. Performance no longer matters.

And this thinking benefits the most powerful people in politics. Because once citizens stop believing improvement is possible, they stop demanding better leadership. Recently, I listened to Punjab’s education minister discussing reforms in government schools and improvements in educational outcomes. Whether one supports AAP or not, the correct democratic response is to examine the data honestly, compare results, criticize failures where necessary, and acknowledge progress where it exists.

What stands out, however, is that many AAP leaders are at least willing to face journalists, answer difficult questions, and defend their governance publicly. In contrast, Narendra Modi, despite being one of the most powerful political figures in independent India, has spent years avoiding unscripted press conferences and direct public questioning in the way democratic leaders are expected to do in mature democracies.

That absence matters. Accountability is not just about winning elections. It is about being questioned by the public, challenged by journalists, and forced to defend decisions openly. Democracy weakens when leaders communicate only through controlled speeches, carefully managed interviews, and one-way messaging.

This becomes even more striking when compared to earlier political rhetoric. There was a time when Modi projected himself as a leader ready to accept total responsibility for governance failures. Today, however, critics increasingly see a leadership style focused more on political control, image management, and electoral dominance than on transparent accountability.

At the same time, many people cannot even tolerate the possibility that a regional opposition party may be governing effectively. Why? Because it challenges years of political conditioning that taught them only one party is capable of leadership, while all others are useless or corrupt.

This is why critics instantly reduce leaders like Bhagwant Mann to insults such as “comedian,” “nautanki,” or references to his past struggles. But democracy is supposed to judge leaders by governance, not by elitist prejudice. A person’s background in entertainment does not automatically make them incapable of administration. In fact, communication, public connection, and political accessibility are strengths many career politicians completely lack.

Punjab, like every state, still faces serious problems. No government deserves blind worship. Citizens should criticize unemployment, drug issues, fiscal management, and incomplete promises wherever necessary. But criticism must be rooted in reality, not partisan denial.

The larger problem in India today is that many voters have become psychologically invested in narratives rather than governance outcomes. Admitting that another political party may have done something well feels, to them, like admitting personal failure. So instead of reassessing their political beliefs, they retreat into blanket cynicism: “everyone is corrupt.”

But democracy cannot survive if citizens refuse to distinguish between better and worse governance.

The BJP’s political strength has never depended solely on development. Its strongest weapon has been polarization. Divide communities. Create emotional enemies. Keep citizens angry, distracted, and permanently mobilized. A divided public asks fewer economic questions.

Meanwhile, ordinary Indians continue struggling with rising costs, shrinking opportunities, educational inequality, and weakening institutions.

India does not need blind supporters of any political party. It needs citizens capable of independent thought. Citizens are willing to reward good governance and punish bad governance regardless of ideology. Because the greatest danger to a democracy is not corruption alone. The greatest danger is leadership without accountability.

When leaders stop answering questions, avoid independent scrutiny, centralize power, and turn criticism into disloyalty, democratic systems begin to erode from within. Citizens slowly become spectators instead of participants. Elections continue, slogans continue, television spectacles continue, but accountability disappears.

And once accountability disappears, power stops serving the people and begins serving itself.

History shows that nations rarely collapse overnight. They weaken gradually when citizens become emotionally loyal to personalities instead of constitutionally loyal to democratic principles. A leader who cannot be questioned eventually becomes a leader who believes he cannot be wrong.

That is not a strength for a democracy. That is a warning sign. If citizens continue dismissing every issue with “everybody is a thief,” then they risk enabling precisely the kind of unchecked politics that weakens institutions, divides society, and pushes nations toward democratic decline.

A functioning democracy requires more than elections. It requires leaders who can be questioned, citizens who can think critically, and a public willing to hold power accountable, no matter who occupies the office.