The Silent Face of Diversity: Indian Presidents and the Politics of Symbols

In late July, the Republic of India selected an exceptional person for the office of its president: Draupadi Murmu, a woman of the Santhal tribe. This is not the first time a woman will hold the office – Pratibha Patil (2007-2012) was the first to do so – but a tribal person has never reached such a position before. While this is a great choice in terms of the politics of representation, and a gesture toward affirming India’s vast diversity, it is also bound to remain a symbolic one.

The president of India is selected by lawmakers, not the electorate, and therefore has no power base of their own. The president remains a figurehead who does the bidding of the ruling coalition. While as per the constitution the president has the power to ordain a state of emergency, dissolve the federal Parliament, or dissolve a state assembly – and the third prerogative is referred to as introducing President’s Rule – these steps are in fact always taken by the prime minister’s office, with the president merely adding their stamp. It is not even customary for the Indian president to veto any bills, even when the government changed during their tenure, and the new ruling coalition represented political forces rival to the ones that had selected the president.

In terms of the politics of symbols, however, the office of the president is a paragon of Indian diversity. According to G. Austin, as described in his seminal “The Indian Constitution: Cornerstone of a Nation,” during the drafting of the constitution there was an effort that envisaged the president as the safekeeper of minority rights. Eventually, no power to secure such a role was conferred on the office. Yet, as it gradually turned out, the position of the president was often treated as a post that should be occupied by those who have a lesser say in electoral politics.

For instance, while the Federal Parliament is dominated by politicians of the most populous region, the Hindi-speaking north, and only one leader from the south has ever became the prime minister (P.V. Narasimha Rao in 1991), as much as six men from the south have held the president’s office: S. Radhakrishnan (1962-1967), V.V. Giri (1969-1974), N.S. Reddy (1977-1982), R. Venkataraman (1987-1992), K.R. Narayanan (1997-2002), and A.P.J. Abdul Kalam (2002-2007). India has never had a Muslim prime minister, but it has had three Muslim presidents: Zakir Husain (1967-1969), Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed (1974-1977), and Abdul Kalam, noted above also as a southerner. Similarly, in a country largely dominated by upper castes, the current head of state, Ram Nath Kovind, hails from a low caste family. The choice of Draupadi Murmu will take this symbolic representation to a new height.

The first president of India, Rajendra Prasad, may be considered one of the outliers on the list. He belonged to the community of north Indian Brahmins – not a majority community, but an overrepresented group in Indian politics. Yet, as described by the already-quoted Austin, Prasad actually believed that the newly-created post would offer certain political strengths. His belief turned out to be erroneous as soon as the first opportunity for a presidential clash with the parliament dawned, and since that time the president’s office has served as merely symbolic purpose – both in terms of whom it represented and the scale of its power.

In at least two rare and dramatic instances Indian presidents had very little elbow room to raise a voice for their own community, even at times of dire need. Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed was in office in 1975 when Prime Minister Indira Gandhi introduced a state of emergency to crush her political rivals. The emergency was officially ordained under Ahmed’s name, even though he was reportedly hesitant – and it is clear that it was the prime minister who forced him to sign on.

Announcing the emergency was not an anti-minority move as such, but it was certainly an anti-democratic one. Over the 18 month period of autocracy that followed some of the government’s high-handed moves proved to be particularly hurtful to Muslims, such as the forced sterilization program, and the razing of shops around a mosque (Jama Masjid) in Delhi. Ahmed, a Muslim, opposed these actions, but only in private, while he praised them in public.

Giani Zail Singh (1982-1987) was one president from the Sikh community, a religious minority in India, and happened to hold the office in the unfortunate year of 1984, when Sikh separatists and terrorists attempted their most bold confrontation with the Indian state. It was that year that the Indian army destroyed a part of the Harimandir Sahib, the most sacred temple complex of the Sikhs, to flush out the radicals who had occupied it. In response to this, two Sikh bodyguards murdered the prime minister of India, Indira Gandhi. The politicians of the ruling party, the Indian National Congress, subsequently incited bloody riots against the Sikhs, avenging Gandhi’s assassination on thousands of innocent men and women.

A Sikh president was a witness to all of this, and while he did not remain a completely mute spectator, he had no functional power to limit the scale of the confrontation. According to S. Jabob and M. Tully’s “Amritsar: Mrs Gandhi's Last Battle,” Singh threatened to resign from the office in protest, but ultimately did not do so.

Thus, while we should praise the elevation of Murmu to the office of the president, it should also be hoped that apart from this, real efforts to protect the rights and property of Indian tribes will be strengthened as well.