In the land of the Mahabharata, the battle is no longer fought with chariots and arrows, but with silence — a silence that lets the cracks in the Republic widen.
By Ravishankar Kalyanasundaram
In Sicily, Omertà had a simple, brutal meaning. It was the Mafia’s code of silence — the unwritten rule that you did not speak of what you had seen, no matter how grotesque the crime. Breaking it was betrayal; keeping it was survival.
The code has travelled well. It has shed the blood-soaked alleys of Palermo and Naples and found a comfortable home in the world’s largest democracy. Here, Omertà dresses better. It wears the crisp suits of ministers, the tailored jackets of corporate titans, the muted ties of opinion leaders, and the polished gowns of lawyers. The crimes are not gangland killings but the slow, steady erosion of the very institutions meant to guard the Republic.
Are we, too, under an oath of Omertà? For how else can one explain the silence that has descended across every sector of public life? The staggering judicial backlog, the hollow outcomes of enforcement, the frictions of fiscal federalism — all are before us in plain sight. And yet, from those best placed to speak, we hear almost nothing. Look at the silence across the stakeholders.
Government in Power
In any healthy polity, leaders acknowledge institutional failings, confront scandals, and commit to repair. Here, silence is more effective than reform. Courts clogged for decades, regulators that arrive after the scandal, investigative agencies that raid without convicting — these cracks are not hidden; they are visible to anyone willing to look. Yet the corridors of power prefer pliable institutions to repaired ones.
But where are the elder statesmen, the jurists, the economists, and the industrialists who should raise a chorus for integrity and efficiency in our institutions? Their silence is most deafening when faith in those very institutions falters, and no authoritative voice calls for renewal.
The Media
A press once famed for speaking truth to power now too often trades its watchdog bark for a soft whimper. Investigations give way to recycled press releases; challenging questions are replaced by studio theatrics. Ownership pressures, political proximity, and the lure of access have made discretion the safer choice.
Where are the editors who once set standards for fearless reporting? Where are the newsrooms that once believed that the citizen’s right to know outweighed the advertiser’s right to dictate? Their silence denies the aggrieved even the dignity of a witness.
Opinion Leaders
Retired judges, senior bureaucrats, academics — once the nation’s moral compass — have largely gone quiet. Fear of retribution, the lure of appointment, or sheer fatigue has drained the will to speak. Their silence, whether cautious or convenient, is itself a verdict.
Where are the elders of the courts who saw despair in their own courtrooms? Where are the scholars who once warned of institutional decline? Where are the reformers who pressed for cleaner politics? These voices should be the conscience of a Republic, yet they choose discretion over duty.
Industrial Captains
Boardrooms repeat the line that politics is best left to politicians. In truth, big business fears nothing more than an unfriendly knock on the door. Easier to fund all sides, steer clear of controversy, and let institutions decay quietly.
Where are the industrialists who once spoke for stronger regulators, transparent rules, and cleaner public life? Their voices should remind us that without robust institutions, even markets cannot thrive.
Courts
Justice in India moves on a glacial clock. Backlogs stretch for decades. NITI Aayog itself has admitted that, at the current pace, it could take centuries for the aggrieved to find redress. Urgent hearings depend on opaque listing, and judicial transfers raise troubling questions.
Where are the guardians of the Bench willing to say plainly that delay itself is injustice?
Regulators
From SEBI to commodity exchanges, their role is to enforce fairness. Yet their big moments are almost always reactive. By the time action arrives, the money is gone, the trail cold, and investor trust drained.
Where are the economists, industry leaders, and public policy thinkers who should insist that prevention, not post-mortem, is the regulator’s true role?
Election Commission
The umpire of democracy now plays under the shadow of perceived bias. Hesitations in curbing violations and selective bursts of zeal corrode its legitimacy. Even the perception of partisanship corrodes confidence.
Where are the elder statesmen of politics willing to defend neutrality of the ballot, even against their own parties’ temptations?
Finance Commission
The revenue-sharing formula between Centre and states is treated as scripture, but scripture from another era. States now openly accuse the Centre of a prejudiced formula, threatening to denounce GST or demand reversal. Beneath the surface, resentment simmers.
Where are the economists and administrators willing to call for a modern, fair formula — one that sustains trust rather than corrodes it?
Enforcement Agencies
The Enforcement Directorate alone has taken up nearly six thousand cases since 2015 — yet convictions remain in double digits. The story repeats across the CBI, SFIO, and state EOWs: spectacular raids, breathless leaks, and then… silence.
Where are the legal elders, civil society leaders, and reformist voices demanding accountability for outcomes, not just headlines?
The rot is not for lack of diagnosis. Governments know the cracks. They simply find them useful. A regulator that winks, a court that adjourns, an agency that investigates without concluding — all are tools in the kit of power.
For the rest of the elite, silence is easier than dissent. The media fears loss of access; opinion leaders fear loss of favour; industrialists fear loss of contracts. And so, the silence holds.
The Mahabharata reminds us that even the mightiest of empires can collapse when silence triumphs over duty. In that epic, Lord Krishna himself chose to remain a silent spectator as cousins, allies, and vast armies destroyed one another. The battlefield was left with fewer survivors than the fingers on our hand.
Are we waiting for a similar devastation in our Republic — a collapse so total that only fragments remain — before we awaken? Or can we, instead, pick the smaller but harder path: to break the silence, to summon the courage to speak, and to repair what still can be saved?
Until then, Omertà will remain the most faithfully observed code in the Republic.
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