When the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) failed to secure a parliamentary majority in May 2024, requiring the support of the Telugu Desam Party (TDP) and the Janata Dal (United) [JD(U)] to form the government, it was speculated that coalition dharma would act as a moderating force. The very logic of coalition politics – compromise, negotiation, and a common minimum programme – seemed to promise a check on the government’s Hindutva-driven policies. Yet, 15 months into Narendra Modi’s third term, it has become evident that coalition dharma has remained a mirage, with little discernible impact on the BJP’s ideological project. Hindutva continues its march with renewed confidence, while the coalition partners appear content to trade silence on secular principles for developmental concessions in their respective states.
The expectations of moderation were not unreasonable. The TDP, under N Chandrababu Naidu, has historically projected itself as a regional, development-focused party with limited interest in sectarian agendas. Similarly, Nitish Kumar’s JD(U), though politically malleable, has often emphasised social justice and has previously broken with the BJP over ideological differences, most notably on Modi’s leadership itself in 2013. Their support was therefore interpreted as a potential brake on the excesses of Hindutva. The BJP, without a majority of its own, would surely need to respect its allies’ concerns and adhere more closely to constitutional propriety – so the reasoning went.
This optimism, however, has not survived contact with reality. In BJP-governed states, the systematic targeting of minorities has continued unabated. Consider recent evidence. In Maharashtra’s Jalgaon, the killing of a 21-year-old Muslim man for the “crime” of being seen with a Hindu girl echoes the vigilante violence that has become normalised since 2014. In Uttar Pradesh, four Muslim men were assaulted while transporting meat, underscoring the continuing impunity of “cow protection” mobs. Eviction drives in Assam’s Goalpara and Golaghat have rendered hundreds of Muslim families homeless. Gujarat has witnessed the demolition of over 12,500 homes near Chandola Lake, disproportionately affecting Muslims including documented Indian citizens. Reports of harassment of Bengali-speaking Muslims across BJP-governed states reinforce the continuity of discriminatory policies from the previous term.
Attacks on Christians and churches have escalated, confirming that Hindutva’s reach extends beyond one minority. Meanwhile, the State has deepened its authoritarian reflexes: arbitrary detentions, restrictions on interfaith marriages, and attempts to regulate dietary habits persist without pause. These developments underscore that the third term is not a departure from the previous two but a seamless continuation.
The silence of the BJP’s coalition partners in the face of such egregious assaults on India’s minorities is striking. Neither the TDP nor the JD(U) has issued a statement of concern. Both parties supported the BJP on the controversial Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025 which critics argue undermines minority autonomy and religious freedoms, despite concerns raised within their own ranks.
Transactional politics
Both allies appear preoccupied with securing fiscal and infrastructural benefits for their states. The Union Budgets of 2024-25 and 2025-26 explicitly highlight this quid pro quo: Bihar received targeted allocations such as a Makhana Board, a new National Institute of Food Technology, greenfield airports, and funding for the Western Kosi Canal project. Andhra Pradesh secured substantial allocations for the Polavaram irrigation project, Visakhapatnam Steel Plant, and Vizag Port, alongside other developmental promises. For Naidu and Kumar, the calculus seems clear: their electoral fortunes are tied to visible developmental gains, not to the defence of India’s secular framework.
This transactionalism lays bare the limits of coalition dharma in the contemporary Indian political context. Rather than constraining the BJP, the coalition arrangement has effectively provided the assertions with an additional shield of legitimacy. By their silence, the TDP and JD(U) have normalised the very Hindutva excesses they were once expected to temper. They have allowed themselves to be co-opted into a system where the delivery of highways and irrigation projects excuses complicity in constitutional erosion. This silence is not mere political strategy – it is a form of abdication, a betrayal of the constitutional values they are sworn to uphold.
One cannot ignore the role of the Opposition in this dismal landscape. While the Congress and regional parties have issued statements of condemnation, there has been no sustained mobilisation, no coordinated campaign to resist the normalisation of anti-minority violence. This collective inertia, from both allies in government and parties in Opposition, points to a disturbing banalisation of hate.
The cumulative effect of these silences is a profound shift in the political culture of the republic. What was once considered shocking has become routine; what was once condemned now provokes fatigue. The expectation that coalition politics could function as a safeguard against authoritarianism has proved naïve. This has grave implications for India’s future. If even the failure of the BJP to secure a majority does not slow Hindutva’s advance, what hope remains for the secular republic? The grim possibility is that the 2029 election, regardless of its outcome, may not alter this trajectory. The normalisation of hate, once entrenched, is difficult to reverse.
The question is no longer whether coalition partners will act as a brake, but whether institutional forces in Indian democracy are willing – or able – to do so.
(The writer is an assistant professor with the Department of Professional Studies, Christ University, Bengaluru)