When Justice Took a Holiday & TV Studios became War Rooms

 

 

Indian Subcontinent has a remarkable feature, our memories are short and consequences are lasting. When one casts a weary, knowing eye back at India’s relentless tryst with terrorism over the past three decades, the narrative that emerges is as much about the thunderous clamor of firepower as it is about the quiet, often overlooked, virtue of foresight. A cursory internet search – a tool of convenience for those who prefer quick answers to deep dives – might point to a multitude of major terrorist incidents. But let's unpick the numbers, and read the postscript.

Between 2014 and 2025, the years Narendra Modi presided as Prime Minister, India indeed faced a series of devastating attacks. We saw the audacious assault on Pathankot (2016), the chilling Uri attack (2016), and the gut-wrenching Pulwama suicide bombing (2019), all largely attributed to Jaish-e-Mohammed. Then came the worrying resurgence in Jammu & Kashmir, with incidents like Poonch-Rajouri (multiple incidents from 2021 onwards), the tragic Reasi bus attack (June 2024), and the Pahalgam tourist bus attack (June 2024), which authorities primarily attribute to The Resistance Front. That makes six major incidents.

Now, let's turn the page back to the decade between 2004 and 2014, a.k.a. the Dr. Manmohan Singh era. India, too, suffered its share of horrors. We recall the calculated brutality of Lashkar-e-Taiba in three significant instances, most notoriously the 26/11 Mumbai siege. Three other attacks, including the 2008 Jaipur and Ahmedabad bombings, were attributed to the homegrown Indian Mujahideen. And then there was the Samjhauta Express bombing (2007), a chilling act of terror linked to right-wing elements, with Swami Aseemanand's name emerging. While Lashkar was, and remains, an outfit firmly entrenched in Pakistan, having wrought havoc in the Kashmir Valley during the turbulent 1990s, the emergence of a domestic terror threat like IM added a new, complex layer.

Dr. Singh's tenure, make no mistake, wasn't some idyllic, terror-free dream. The 2006 Mumbai train blasts, the 2008 Jaipur and Ahmedabad bombings, and of course, the protracted horror of 26/11 Mumbai – these were profound shocks to the nation's psyche. But to his government's enduring credit, in most instances, the perpetrators were identified, many were neutralised, and critically, a significant number were convicted through the due process of law.

Perhaps the largest, most significant feather in Singh's decidedly un-flashy turban (pun intended) was the systematic crushing of the Indian Mujahideen. This was a homegrown terror outfit that had succeeded in spreading a palpable, chilling fear across urban India. Through painstaking, coordinated intelligence efforts and, crucially, through quiet but effective cooperation with friendly nations like the U.S., Israel, and even the UAE, key operatives like Yasin Bhatkal were not just identified, but meticulously tracked and arrested. Bhatkal, it must be remembered, was brought to justice in 2013, and later convicted. Singh, it seems, instinctively knew when to speak and, more importantly, when to deploy the quiet but devastating hammer blow. The menace posed by the Indian Mujahideen (popularly known as IM) was such that serious journalists and researchers dedicated entire books to this now largely defunct outfit. This, one might argue, was Singh's core strategy: kaam bolta hai, not cameras. The work spoke for itself.

Modi's ascendancy in 2014 ushered in a decidedly different grammar of nationalism. The "surgical strikes" post-Uri, the dramatic Balakot airstrike, and a continuous torrent of high-octane, unyielding speeches fundamentally redefined how India, and indeed the world, heard India talk about terror. But peel back the layers of headlines and hashtags, and one often uncovers a disconcerting trail of unresolved cases. From Pulwama, to the Amarnath Yatra attacks of 2017, and even the more recent 2024 Reasi massacre, there is one common thread that pulls at the fabric of justice: the frustrating absence of final, judicial closure.

Take the Pulwama attack of 2019. The entire nation watched with clenched fists and tearful eyes as 40 brave CRPF personnel were brutally killed. TV studios, as is their wont, morphed into frenzied war rooms. Yet, to this very day, the alleged masterminds of that unspeakable act largely roam free. No Indian court has pronounced a capital sentence on those at the top. The nation, in its understandable fury, moved on to the next headline, but justice, in its fullest, most conclusive form, remains elusive.

This, then, is the unfortunate reality: Justice as Performance, Not Practice. Modi’s governance has, undeniably, mastered the delicate, often brutal, art of information warfare. From the ubiquitous WhatsApp forwards that shape public opinion to the cacophonous primetime debates that dictate national narratives, narratives are meticulously curated, not simply reported. High-profile terror incidents become meticulously orchestrated moments of nationalistic frenzy, designed to galvanize support. But the underlying investigative and judicial wheels, the very machinery of justice, seem to grind on, often dragging, rarely concluding with the decisive bang of a verdict. Compare this to the UPA era: quiet, understated, and, crucially, legally conclusive.

And this pattern, this tendency towards rhetorical fireworks over judicial finality, extends even to domestic "sensitive" issues. Consider the Tirupati Beef Crisis of September 2024. Allegations erupted, like a firestorm, that animal fat had somehow found its way into the sacred Tirupati laddus. This was no trifling matter; it deeply enraged devout Hindus and swiftly transformed into a week-long, high-decibel media circus. Yet, despite the immense emotional and religious magnitude of the accusations, what have we seen? No definitive convictions, no indisputable forensic clarity presented to the public, and a distinct lack of administrative accountability that truly satisfies.

This wasn’t some arcane transnational terror plot requiring intricate intelligence sharing or complex military manoeuvring. This was a straightforward, domestic law and order issue. It demanded simple, transparent governance, a clear investigation, and swift, conclusive action. But even that, it seems, becomes a casualty in this age of unrelenting rhetoric, where the loudest voice often eclipses the quiet pursuit of justice.

The Final Word

To truly compare Dr. Manmohan Singh and Narendra Modi in terms of counterterrorism is to juxtapose a finely tuned violin with a booming war drum. One resonates deeply, its melodies revealing complex truths; the other, while undeniably powerful, often simply drowns out all nuanced thought. The UPA's legacy, it is true, may not be "Instagrammable" in this age of digital spectacle. But it is, undeniably, inscribed in the cold, hard facts of charge sheets and the ultimate finality of convictions.

In stark contrast, the NDA's record, while thriving on emotional recall and nationalistic fervor, regrettably fades in the rigorous registers of the legal system. For every Pulwama that generates immense, yet unresolved, national grief, there is a Yasin Bhatkal whose name was brought to justice, a benchmark that has yet to be matched by an equally decisive outcome for the most egregious attacks under the current government. The difference, perhaps, is not just in style, but in substance – a substance that demands accountability, not just applause.