The Politics of Manufactured Enmity, Assam’s Chief Minister, the Supreme Court Petition, and the Unmasking of Governance Failure
In the northeastern corner of India, a state of 35 million people is preparing for Assembly elections. By every conventional measure of development, Assam is a state in urgent need of focused, sustained, and inclusive governance. Its Human Development Index (HDI) languishes below the national average. Its per capita income is a fraction of India’s more prosperous states. Its rates of higher education enrolment are stagnant. Its health indicators—maternal mortality, infant mortality, malnutrition—paint a picture of systemic neglect. Its industrial base remains narrow, failing to generate the gainful employment its young population desperately requires.
These are the challenges that should dominate the political discourse of any responsible government. These are the metrics by which an electorate should judge its leadership and decide its future. Yet, in the campaign leading to the 2026 Assam Assembly elections, these issues have been conspicuously, almost defiantly, absent from the public pronouncements of the state’s Chief Minister, Himanta Biswa Sarma.
Instead, the political landscape of Assam has been saturated with a very different kind of discourse—one of demographic invasion, religious conspiracy, and economic persecution. The Chief Minister has warned of a “matter of life and death” for the indigenous population. He has coined the term “fertiliser jihad” to accuse the Bengali-origin Muslim community of clandestinely altering the state’s demographic balance. He has blamed this community for urban floods. Most disturbingly, he has urged citizens to systematically underpay Muslim rickshaw-pullers—to ensure that “they suffer” and, as a result, “leave Assam.”
A petition filed in the Supreme Court by the CPI(M) and CPI has meticulously documented these statements, arguing that they constitute not merely distasteful political rhetoric but a sustained pattern of communal targeting that is both constitutionally unlawful and criminally prosecutable. The Court now faces a profound test: whether its own precedents on hate speech, communal polarisation, and the “cumulative effect” doctrine will be applied when the offender is not a fringe agitator but the highest constitutional functionary of a state. The case is not merely about Himanta Biswa Sarma; it is about whether India’s constitutional morality can constrain its electoral demagoguery.
Part I: The Governance Deficit—Assam’s Unaddressed Crisis
To understand why the Chief Minister has resorted to the politics of manufactured enmity, one must first understand the uncomfortable reality of Assam’s development trajectory under his leadership.
1. Economic Stagnation:
Assam’s per capita income remains significantly below the national average. Despite possessing abundant natural resources—tea, oil, coal, limestone—the state has failed to industrialise or diversify its economy. Manufacturing employment has shrunk, not expanded. The services sector, the engine of growth in most Indian states, remains underdeveloped. Young Assamese, particularly in the educationally backward regions, face a stark choice: chronic underemployment or out-migration.
2. Educational Backwardness:
Enrolment rates in higher education in Assam lag behind the national average by a considerable margin. The gender gap in tertiary education, while narrowing, remains pronounced in rural and minority-concentrated districts. The quality of school education, measured by learning outcomes, is abysmal in large swathes of the state. The government’s response has been episodic and underfunded.
3. Health Indicators:
Assam’s maternal mortality ratio (MMR) and infant mortality rate (IMR) are among the worst in India. Malnutrition is endemic, particularly in tea garden communities and riverine areas. The public health infrastructure, despite episodic injections of central funding, remains brittle and understaffed.
4. Floods and Erosion:
Every year, the Brahmaputra and its tributaries inundate vast areas of the state, displacing millions, destroying crops, and eroding precious land. This is not a recent phenomenon; it is a chronic, predictable, and inadequately mitigated catastrophe. Yet, the Chief Minister’s response to this perennial crisis has been to blame a specific community for urban floods—an assertion for which no hydrological or engineering evidence has been offered.
This is the governance deficit that the Chief Minister has chosen not to address. It is not that solutions are unavailable; it is that they require sustained administrative focus, substantial financial resources, and the difficult work of building consensus across communities. It is far easier to manufacture a bogeyman than to repair a broken public health system.
Part II: The Lexicon of Hatred—Documenting the Chief Minister’s Statements
The CPI(M)/CPI petition before the Supreme Court is notable for its meticulous documentation of the Chief Minister’s statements over an extended period. This is not a case of a single, off-the-cuff remark taken out of context. It is a pattern.
1. “Demographic Threat” and “Life and Death”:
The Chief Minister has repeatedly framed the Bengali-origin Muslim community as an existential threat to Assam’s indigenous population. This is not demographic analysis; it is majoritarian panic weaponised for electoral gain. It echoes, consciously or otherwise, the rhetoric that preceded ethnic violence in other parts of India and the world.
2. “Fertiliser Jihad”:
This neologism, coined by the Chief Minister, alleges that Muslim families are having more children to covertly alter the state’s religious demography, and that this is funded by subsidised agricultural inputs. The accusation is simultaneously absurd and incendiary. It is absurd because it attributes strategic, coordinated intent to millions of individual family decisions. It is incendiary because it transforms a routine welfare measure (fertiliser subsidy) into a weapon of religious warfare.
3. Urban Floods:
When Guwahati and other Assamese towns flooded in recent monsoons, the Chief Minister attributed the inundation not to inadequate drainage, encroachment of wetlands, or climate change—but to the settlement patterns of the Muslim community. This is not a policy analysis; it is a blame-shifting exercise designed to absolve his own administration of responsibility for urban planning failures.
4. Economic Persecution—The Rickshaw-Puller Directive:
The most disturbing statement, and the one that most clearly crosses the line from rhetoric to incitement, is the Chief Minister’s exhortation to citizens to systematically underpay Muslim rickshaw-pullers. His stated objective was unambiguous: to ensure that “they suffer” and, as a result, “leave Assam.” This is not an expression of opinion; it is a call for economic boycott targeted at a specific religious community. It is, in any democratic society governed by the rule of law, unambiguously unlawful.
Part III: The Constitutional Framework—Oath, Fraternity, and the Cumulative Effect Doctrine
The petition advances two distinct but interlinked constitutional arguments.
First, the Chief Minister’s oath of office.
Under the Third Schedule of the Constitution, every Chief Minister swears to “bear true faith and allegiance to the Constitution of India” and to “uphold the sovereignty and integrity of India” and to “do right to all manner of people without fear or favour, affection or ill-will.” When a Chief Minister systematically targets a religious minority for vilification and economic persecution, he is not merely expressing a personal opinion; he is violating the solemn oath that is the condition of his office.
Second, the fundamental rights of citizens.
Article 14 guarantees equality before the law. Article 15 prohibits discrimination on grounds of religion. Article 19 guarantees freedom of speech, but also permits reasonable restrictions in the interests of “public order” and “fraternity.” Article 21 guarantees the right to life, which has been interpreted to include the right to live with dignity. When a Chief Minister calls for the economic persecution of a community, he is aiding and abetting the violation of these fundamental rights.
The Supreme Court’s “cumulative effect” doctrine, articulated in cases such as Amish Devgan v. Union of India and Tehseen Poonawalla v. Union of India, is crucial here. The Court has held that in evaluating hate speech, one must consider not merely the literal content of individual statements but their cumulative impact in context. A statement that might be defensible as hyperbole in a private conversation acquires entirely different weight when uttered by a Chief Minister who controls the police apparatus and commands the attention of the media. His words are not merely his own; they are invested with the authority of the state.
Part IV: The Political Strategy—Why Manufactured Enmity Works
The cynical art of politics, as H.L. Mencken observed, is “to keep the populace alarmed—and hence clamorous to be led to safety—by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.” Himanta Biswa Sarma has elevated this art to a high degree of refinement.
Why does it work? Because it is cognitively and emotionally cheaper than governance. To address Assam’s development deficits requires:
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Acknowledging that problems are complex and solutions uncertain.
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Investing political capital in long-term, low-visibility initiatives.
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Building consensus across diverse communities.
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Accepting that results will be incremental and often invisible.
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Taking responsibility when policies fall short.
To manufacture enmity, by contrast, requires only:
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Identifying a vulnerable, voiceless target.
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Repeating simple, emotionally charged accusations.
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Controlling the narrative through a compliant media ecosystem.
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Claiming credit for preventing a hypothetical catastrophe that never materialises.
The rickshaw-puller directive is the perfect distillation of this strategy. It requires no budgetary allocation, no legislative process, no administrative capacity. It costs nothing and yields immediate political dividends. It unites the majority against a common enemy. It demonstrates, to the cheering crowds, that the leader is “doing something.”
That this “something” is unlawful, immoral, and profoundly corrosive of the social fabric is precisely why it is chosen. Outrage is the currency of polarisation.
Part V: The Supreme Court’s Test—Will Precedent Prevail?
The Supreme Court now faces a decision that is simultaneously narrow and profound.
It can dismiss the petition as an “election-eve political manoeuvre,” as the Chief Minister’s defenders will undoubtedly argue. It can hold that political speech, even when distasteful, is protected by Article 19(1)(a) and that the remedy lies with the electorate, not the judiciary.
Or it can hold the Chief Minister to the same constitutional standards it has applied to others. It can find that the cumulative effect of his statements, considered in their totality and context, constitutes hate speech that is not protected by Article 19(1)(a). It can direct the registration of criminal cases under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita and the Representation of the People Act. It can issue a declaratory order that a Chief Minister’s oath imposes affirmative duties of fraternity and non-discrimination that are violated by systematic communal targeting.
The choice is not merely legal; it is constitutional. If the Court permits a sitting Chief Minister to incite economic persecution against a religious minority with impunity, its own precedents on hate speech become hollow. If it applies a different standard to holders of high constitutional office, it legitimises a two-tier system of constitutional accountability.
Part VI: The Assamese Alternative—What Governance Could Look Like
It is essential to state what should be obvious: Assam’s development challenges are not insoluble, and its diverse communities are not inherently in conflict.
The Brahmaputra Valley has been, for centuries, a site of remarkable syncretism. The Bhakti movement of Sankardeva transcended religious boundaries. The Ahom kingdom, which ruled Assam for six centuries, incorporated Hindus, Muslims, and indigenous tribal communities into a composite polity. The Vaishnavite monasteries, the satras, have been repositories of not merely religious but cultural and artistic heritage shared across communities.
This history is not merely nostalgia; it is a resource for an alternative politics. An Assamese Chief Minister who chose the path of governance could:
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Launch a mission-mode initiative to universalise higher education, with targeted scholarships for girls and rural youth.
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Develop a comprehensive flood mitigation and river management plan, working with Bangladesh and other riparian states.
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Attract investment in agro-processing and tea tourism, creating employment in the very districts now afflicted by out-migration.
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Strengthen the public health system, particularly in maternal and child health, to bring Assam’s indicators to the national average within a decade.
None of this is impossible. All of it is within the fiscal and administrative capacity of the state, with central assistance. What is required is political will—the very quality that the Chief Minister has expended so abundantly on the manufacture of hobgoblins.
Conclusion: The Verdict of History and the Court
Himanta Biswa Sarma may well win the 2026 Assam Assembly elections. The politics of polarisation, as India has repeatedly witnessed, is electorally efficacious. The crowds that cheer his denunciations of “fertiliser jihad” and his calls to underpay Muslim rickshaw-pullers may well translate into votes.
But elections are not referendums on constitutionality. A popular mandate does not immunise a public official from constitutional accountability. The Supreme Court’s role is not to second-guess the electorate but to enforce the fundamental law that is the condition of democratic politics itself.
The petition against the Chief Minister is not a “political manoeuvre.” It is a constitutional necessity. It forces the Court to answer a question that has become urgent across India: Does the Constitution mean what it says when it promises secularism, fraternity, and equal citizenship? Or are these merely aspirational preambular phrases, suspended during election season and inapplicable to the powerful?
The answer will determine not merely the fate of one Chief Minister but the character of Indian democracy. If the hobgoblins are permitted to multiply unchecked, they will eventually devour not only their targets but the constitutional order that permits their creation. The Court’s duty is to recognise this danger and to act before the fire of manufactured enmity consumes the house of fraternity that the Constitution sought to build.
Q&A: Assam, Hate Speech, and the Constitutional Challenge
Q1: What specific allegations of hate speech and communal targeting have been made against Assam Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma in the Supreme Court petition?
A1: The CPI(M)/CPI petition documents a sustained pattern of statements targeting the Bengali-origin Muslim community, including:
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“Demographic Threat” Framing: Warning that the community poses a “matter of life and death” for Assam’s indigenous population.
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“Fertiliser Jihad”: Accusing the community of using subsidised agricultural inputs to covertly increase its fertility rate and alter the state’s demography.
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Urban Floods: Blaming the community’s settlement patterns for flooding in Guwahati and other towns, without hydrological evidence.
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Economic Persecution: Urging citizens to systematically underpay Muslim rickshaw-pullers so that “they suffer” and “leave Assam.”
The petition argues these statements are not isolated rhetoric but a calculated strategy to divert attention from governance failures and polarise the electorate ahead of Assembly elections.
Q2: What is Assam’s actual governance and development deficit, and why does the petition argue this context is relevant?
A2: Assam lags behind national averages on multiple critical indicators:
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Human Development Index (HDI): Below national average.
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Per Capita Income: Significantly lower than the Indian average.
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Higher Education Enrolment: Stagnant, with pronounced gender and regional gaps.
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Health Indicators: Maternal mortality, infant mortality, and malnutrition rates among the worst in India.
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Industrial Employment: Manufacturing sector has contracted, not expanded.
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Flood Mitigation: Chronic, annually recurring catastrophe with inadequate long-term planning.
The petition argues that this governance deficit is the unspoken context of the Chief Minister’s rhetoric. Rather than addressing these complex, resource-intensive challenges, he has chosen to manufacture external enemies—a strategy that is politically expedient but constitutionally unlawful.
Q3: What is the “cumulative effect” doctrine, and how does it apply to a Chief Minister’s speeches?
A3: The cumulative effect doctrine, articulated by the Supreme Court in Amish Devgan v. Union of India and Tehseen Poonawalla v. Union of India, holds that in evaluating hate speech, courts must consider not merely the literal content of individual statements but their cumulative impact in context. Factors include:
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Frequency and Repetition: Isolated remarks versus sustained campaign.
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Speaker’s Authority: A Chief Minister’s words carry the weight of the state and control over the police apparatus.
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Vulnerability of Target: Statements targeting a marginalised, voiceless minority have greater harmful potential.
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Timing: Pre-election speeches are particularly potent in influencing voters and inciting animosity.
Applying this doctrine, the petition argues that the Chief Minister’s statements, considered cumulatively, constitute systematic hate speech that is unprotected by Article 19(1)(a).
Q4: What constitutional provisions and legal statutes does the petition argue have been violated?
A4: The petition invokes:
Constitutional Provisions:
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Article 14: Right to equality—targeted vilification denies equal citizenship.
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Article 15: Prohibition of discrimination on grounds of religion.
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Article 19(2): Reasonable restrictions on free speech for public order and fraternity.
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Article 21: Right to life with dignity—economic persecution violates dignity.
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Third Schedule Oath: Chief Minister’s oath to “do right to all manner of people without fear or favour, affection or ill-will.”
Legal Statutes:
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Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita: Provisions criminalising promotion of enmity between groups and acts prejudicial to maintenance of harmony.
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Representation of the People Act, 1951: Section 123(3) and (3A) prohibit appeals to religion or communal feelings for electoral gain, constituting corrupt practices.
Q5: What are the possible outcomes of the Supreme Court petition, and what would each signify for Indian constitutional democracy?
A5: Three possible outcomes and their significance:
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Dismissal as “Political Manoeuvre”: The Court declines to intervene, holding that the remedy lies with the electorate. Significance: Would signal that constitutional norms of secularism and fraternity are suspended during election seasons and are unenforceable against high constitutional functionaries. Would render hate speech precedents selectively applicable.
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Declaratory Order: The Court holds that the statements are constitutionally impermissible and violate the Chief Minister’s oath, but refrains from directing criminal prosecution. Significance: Would establish normative framework but lack enforcement mechanism. Would test whether moral suasion constrains electoral demagoguery.
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Direction for Prosecution: The Court finds prima facie violation of criminal law and directs registration of FIR and investigation. Significance: Would demonstrate that constitutional accountability applies equally to all, regardless of office. Would operationalise hate speech precedents. Would send powerful deterrent signal to other political actors contemplating similar rhetoric.
The petition thus forces the Court to confront whether its own jurisprudence on hate speech carries genuine enforcement teeth or remains aspirational exhortation.
