Why political honesty matters more than optics in 2026

As 2025 ends, the real crisis facing India’s opposition is not intent but capacity. It contends that without institutional maturity, narrative clarity, and credible leadership, the opposition risks remaining a protest force rather than a governing alternative. Critiquing selective secularism, inconsistent economic messaging, and reflexive anti-Modi rhetoric, intellectual inaccuracy and political hypocrisy have weakened public trust. It warns that unless the opposition shifts from symbolism to substance, focuses on people’s issues, and embraces honest accountability, 2026 may mirror 2025—only closer to a decisive electoral verdict.

As 2025 draws to a close, the central question before India’s opposition is no longer about hope or intent, but about capacity. Whether 2026 becomes the year of a proactive, credible opposition with a genuinely positive outlook will depend not on slogans or outrage, but on three hard realities that the opposition can no longer afford to evade.

The first is institutional maturity. An opposition cannot survive merely by reacting—blocking legislation, shouting slogans, or rushing to courts on every issue. A serious opposition demonstrates policy depth, internal discipline, and readiness to govern.

Yet through much of 2025, opposition politics appeared episodic: hyperactive during flashpoint controversies, largely absent in sustained legislative engagement. Parliamentary presence, committee work, and policy consistency remain uneven, reinforcing the perception of an opposition more comfortable with disruption than deliberation.

The second reality is narrative clarity. Voters respond to coherence, not permanent outrage. Unity among opposition parties, while necessary, is insufficient without a clear ideological and programmatic alternative.

Unless the opposition articulates a credible vision—economic, federal, social—it risks remaining a protest movement rather than a governing option. A politics defined only by what it opposes cannot substitute for one that explains what it proposes.

The third, and perhaps most damaging, weakness is leadership credibility. A positive political outlook must be anchored in leaders who communicate conviction, competence, and consistency. Personalities cannot replace preparation.

Unfortunately, large sections of the opposition ecosystem appear to expend disproportionate energy on vilifying Prime Minister Narendra Modi, running down India on international platforms, and injecting religion into political discourse through distorted interpretations of Sanatana Dharma and overt appeasement politics.

This approach ignores a basic political reality: minorities in India do not vote en bloc, just as majorities do not think uniformly. The Indian voter—irrespective of religion—is increasingly discerning, aware of governmental omissions and commissions, and capable of independent judgement.

The opposition’s failure lies not in losing elections, but in failing to learn why it is losing them. The BJP’s repeated electoral success is not merely a function of its strength, but of a weak, fractured opposition trapped in a politics of resentment rather than relevance.

Ironically, while accusing the BJP of blurring constitutional lines between state and religion—through temple-centric politics or majoritarian rhetoric—the opposition itself repeatedly tags every issue to religion, often selectively and inaccurately. Violations of court orders or attempts to prevent the lighting of Karthigai Deepam, an ancient Shaivite tradition, barely elicit protest. Selective targeting of Hindu practices passes without comment.

At the same time, parties like the DMK argue that Diwali represents North Indian cultural imposition, ignoring the festival’s pan-Hindu character and its diverse regional expressions. Pitting Deepam against Diwali is an artificial and divisive construct that deepens cultural fault lines rather than addressing governance.

The problem is compounded by selective and reductive definitions of Hinduism. Too often, it is portrayed narrowly as a social system rooted only in caste hierarchy or ritual oppression, ignoring its vast philosophical and civilisational diversity—from Vedanta and Bhakti traditions to Shaiva–Shakta schools and folk practices.

Critique of religion is legitimate in a democracy, but mischaracterisation weakens critique and fuels polarisation. Intellectual inaccuracy does not strengthen secularism; it corrodes it.

Faith, when turned into a political weapon, loses its capacity for dialogue. Many who indulge in demeaning Hinduism have little engagement with its texts or traditions. This brand of pseudo-secularism finds it convenient to target Hindu practices because visible outrage from the majority community is often muted. Yet such asymmetry damages social trust. Consider the situation of Hindus in Bangladesh, where targeted violence has been widely reported. When senior Congress leader and former chief minister Digvijay Singh described this as a “reaction” to developments in India, one must ask: reaction to what? The unwillingness to even name the persecution reflects moral evasion.

Similarly, when Pakistani terrorists killed Indian civilians in Pahalgam, sections of the opposition rushed to suggest “home-grown terrorism,” asserting that terrorists do not ask religion because they are “trigger-friendly.” Such reflexive equivocation weakens national resolve and confuses accountability.

The opposition’s selective outrage extends to symbolism as well. Prime Minister Modi’s visit to a church in Delhi for Christmas celebrations is dismissed as electoral drama. Yet when Rahul Gandhi visited temples during Gujarat elections, projecting himself as a “janevu-dhari Brahmin,” it was defended as cultural outreach. Political optics cannot be condemned selectively.

That said, criticism must be balanced. The BJP, too, bears responsibility. Incidents such as vandalism of schools and attacks on Christian institutions during Christmas must be stopped decisively. Those responsible should be identified, shamed, and punished without delay.

Allegations of crimes against women involving BJP leaders must invite swift disciplinary action, keeping accused individuals away from the party until due process is complete. Moral authority cannot be selective.

Another persistent contradiction within the opposition is its objection to statues of Atal Bihari Vajpayee, Syama Prasad Mukherjee, and Pandit Deendayal Upadhyaya. The argument that these figures belong to the BJP or RSS rings hollow.

When Congress was in power, it named airports, schemes, and institutions after Jawaharlal Nehru, Indira Gandhi, and Rajiv Gandhi, often projecting freedom struggle narratives as if no one else contributed.

The same formula was replicated in Telangana, where the previous TRS regime portrayed statehood as the achievement of one individual, erasing collective sacrifice.

Equally troubling is the opposition’s casual adoption of narratives echoing Pakistan’s talking points. When a former Maharashtra chief minister Prithviraj Chauhan claims India was “defeated on day one” of Operation Sindoor or questions the need for a large army, such statements are not merely irresponsible—they are damaging. That these remarks are defended by party leaders while the Congress high command maintains silence only deepens the credibility gap.

Economic messaging has been similarly inconsistent. Rahul Gandhi’s assertion that the Indian economy is “dead” was followed by claims in Germany that India lags in manufacturing.

Yet when Foxconn announced a ₹20,000 crore iPhone manufacturing facility near Bengaluru, he praised India’s manufacturing capacity and said it was fast growing, crediting the Karnataka government—without acknowledging that the project had been cleared earlier by a BJP-led state government and approved through statutory processes. Facts are ignored when inconvenient, embraced when politically useful.

Political credibility demands intellectual honesty. Credit must be given where due, and criticism grounded in evidence rather than expediency.

So, will 2026 mark a turning point? It can—but only if the opposition chooses reform over reflex, substance over symbolism, and long-term credibility over short-term noise. Without that reset, 2026 risks looking uncomfortably like 2025—only closer to a decisive electoral verdict that the opposition may once again claim to be surprised by.

(The author is former Chief Editor of The Hans India)