Recently, the Prime Minister of our state presided and hoisted the dhwaja atop the newly constructed Ram Mandir in Ayodhya. I believe it marks a moment, while emotionally resonant for many, that deserves sober constitutional reflection. While the event holds cultural significance for many citizens, the involvement of the head of government in explicitly religious rituals marks a disquieting shift in the symbolic posture of the Indian state. What is at stake is not someone's private belief, nor the legitimacy of Ram bhakti, but the increasingly eroded line between the secular State and religious symbolism in public life.
The Indian Constitution does not adopt Western secularism's strict separation between the church and the state; rather, it embodies what scholars describe as a model of principled distance and institutional neutrality, one where society is free to be religious, but the State must not be. This principle is highlighted in the Preamble, which designates India as a 'secular' republic. It is implemented through Articles 25 to 28, which strike a balance between religious freedom and the State's obligation of non-establishment. The goal is not to erase religion from public life, but to protect the constitutional State from alignment with, endorsement of, or influence by religious identities. The Supreme Court's judgment in S.R. Bommai v. Union of India remains a relevant anchor in this context, which affirmed secularism as part of the basic structure. The Court held that State governments must not 'identify with' or 'favour' any one religion, and that such alignment, symbolic or substantive, runs contrary to constitutional morality. This idea rests not on distancing society from religion but on ensuring that the state does not identify itself with any one faith. This emphasis on perception is critical: constitutional neutrality is not only doctrinal, but it is also performative. The State must not only be neutral, but be visibly neutral. The Prime Minister's actions extend beyond personal belief; they represent an exercise of state authority in a space with deep communal and political histories. Given the temple's emergence from decades of litigation and its association with one of the most divisive episodes in contemporary India, the ceremonial leadership of the state's highest executive authority risks communicating majoritarian endorsement.
This raises deeper concerns at the level of constitutional morality, a doctrine Ambedkar articulated to warn against precisely such slippages. In the Constituent Assembly, he stressed, “Constitutional morality is not a natural sentiment; it has to be cultivated.” Constitutional morality presupposes that those in power internalise restraint even when the Constitution does not expressly police the act, because democratic endurance lies not only in legal text but in norm-following by institutions and actors. The concern is not that the Prime Minister participates in religious life; Indian political leaders from across parties and throughout the decades have visited places of worship. The issue is the nature and scale of participation. The issue is not devotion, but discretion; even in moments laden with emotive weight, constitutional offices require a distance from overt religious symbolism. The Ayodhya event demanded statesmanship that recognises India's plural realities, not a fusion of state authority with sectarian iconography.
Even analyses that are not adversarial to the present government have acknowledged that such optics risk signalling an exclusionary majoritarianism, regardless of intent. The Prime Minister's role as chief yajman and the hoisting of the temple flag were not mere religious acts; they carried the weight of State authority. In a country where minorities rely on the Constitution as a guarantee of equal citizenship, such symbolic alignment is likely to be perceived as unsettling. This blurring of institutional boundaries should be viewed not merely in terms of legal permissibility but in relation to constitutional morality. In a polity where minorities depend on the neutrality of state institutions, the symbolic alignment of the executive with a particular religious tradition undermines the spirit of the constitution. It also weakens the unwritten norms of restraint that have historically preserved the secular ethos of Indian public life.
The Ayodhya temple inauguration could have been a moment of shared constitutional dignity. It could have demonstrated that faith and democracy can coexist without merging. Instead, the image of the Prime Minister hoisting the temple flag suggests a State inching closer to symbolic majoritarianism, which risks diluting the constitutional wall of neutrality that protects India's plural identity. The issue is not about devotion, belief, or faith; it is about the role of the State in a secular republic. For constitutional functionaries, restraint is often the greatest expression of respect for both religion and democracy.
Author is Assistant Professor at UPES School of Law.
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