I want to tell you a story that should shock a whole country into awakening. Not so long ago, in one of the villages of Uttar Pradesh, a newspaper journalist was burned alive in his house. His name is now a mere memory in the news, but the crime itself is plain as day: he reported corruption in the area. He actually went so far as to inform the police of the threatening messages he was receiving, pleading for protection. And what did he get? The punishment of death in the most atrocious manner possible. The international community, as represented by Reporters Without Borders, called for justice to be served. The question is, in a country like India, the noise of the daily hustle of the population, the endless messages sounding off, the lights of the phones shining, drowned out the silence of the crime of murder, the assassin-at-leisure of a man who was merely doing the one thing he was there for: speaking the truth?
This isn’t a crime story, after all. This is a question mark seared into the flesh of our nation. While we rush headlong into a bright and shiny future of technology and advancement, and we celebrate every start-up and every village that makes it onto the internet, let’s take a moment to ask a chillingly simple question: What are we leaving behind? The answer to that question feels as if an old digit has been rubbed out on an abandoned phone, our morals and sense of right and wrong melting into nothing. This piece is a conversation about what’s being erased. Let’s talk plainly, with facts and figures, about what this trade-off looks like.
Look around you. The symptoms aren’t lurking in the shadows; they’re present in our communal, escalating sighs. The dead journalist is the most extreme manifestation, but he certainly isn’t alone in this macabre triumvirate. The Nation’s Crime Record Bureau reveals an alarming increase in crimes against journalists. Of course, this isn’t just a problem confined to the news headlines. It’s the teacher who accepts payment in exchange for a failing pupil. It’s the local bureaucrat who insists on collecting a cut before rubber-stamping your building plan. It’s also the triumphant sharing of a WhatsApp post you personally know to be untrue merely because it reinforces what you already think.
We’re all so accustomed to turning a blind eye. According to a Transparency International survey from 2020, 51% of Indians accessing a public service paid a bribe. Consider that: more than half of us. We pay for whatever we want, and then grumble about corruption with our chai, as if corruption were some external demon, and not the easy call we made the day before yesterday. This attitude of “chalta hai” is the fuel for the fire of moral lessness. We are constructing this amazing cyber utopia, and yet on a foundation that slithers like the Sahara Desert?!
Why Now? Why does it seem that our moral compass is spinning while our GPS becomes clearer?
Let's consider: when was it last legitimate to kill children to preserve their One? Phones are smarter, but public conversation dumbs down and gets angrier. Also, a University of Michigan study showed that between 2014 and 2020, there was an increase of over 80% in the use of divisive and moral-emotional speech in political tweets on the Indian Twitter site. Technology is an amplification of our worst instincts. We are connected to an incredible number of people, and we are terrible at listening to them or caring about them.
Second, the priorities of this government seem skewed. We hail massive, bright initiatives like Digital India that have brought internet connectivity to over 750 million people and UPI payments that process upwards of 10 billion transactions every month. Unquestioned technological prowess. Still, where is a matching, intense effort at preserving the moral fabric? In India, the police-to-population ratio is a low 144 per 100,000, against the UN's recommended 222. The wheels of justice turn ponderously; by 2022, over 50 million cases were pending in the courts. When institutions fail and delayed justice sows mistrust, people start to believe rules apply only to the gullible.
And then there is us, the people. Our aspirations have shrunk. We pursue IITs, IAS, and IT jobs; we covet cars and flats in gated communities. But when did we cease to dream about an honest society? The vector sum of our collective energies points at private success, leaving the public square bare for the wrong players to fill. We teach our children to compete, but do we teach them to care?
We aren't the first civilisation to come to this crossroads in history. The lessons of history can guide us if only we are willing to listen to the echoes of the past. Look back into our history: the whole freedom struggle was based on a moral tool called Satyagraha—the force of Truth itself. He overthrew an empire not with guns but with the unshakable hold of morality in his heart. We keep his picture in our offices today, but the spirit stirs feebly in our chests. He taught us that the biggest power in the world lies in moral stature. Where is the courage gone?
We may also take lessons from others. Think of the case of Denmark, one of the least corrupt countries for many years. Their solution is not magic. Many years ago, they established good, strong, and clean institutions, and they created a trust-building culture. A Danish citizen believes that his or her next-door person, the police, and the ministers will behave in a rule-abiding manner. In Singapore in the 1960s, the existence of corruption day in and day out was very much commonplace. Then, the leadership made a different choice. It constructed a framework in which the cost of corrupt acts is extremely high, yet the return is low. It treated its public servants well and dealt severely, without mercy, regardless of who you are. It changed the entire culture of the land.
The good news is this: broken things can be fixed. The solutions are not magical; they are practical, but they require us to wake up from our collective slumber.
We must begin in our classrooms. Today, education is about cramming facts for exams. We need to make it about building character. Why can't we have a simple subject called "Being Human"? Where can children role-play what to do when they see someone cheating, or learn how to spot a fake news story? Let's plant the seeds of conscience early.
Our institutions need to be temples of trust again. We, the people, must demand this. We must vote not for freebies, but for integrity. We must support and protect independent journalists, judges, and auditors. Their freedom is the oxygen of our democracy. When a reporter is killed, it should be treated as an attack on the nation itself, with the highest level of investigation.
We also need to use our own technology as a shield. Apps like the Government's "UMANG" can be used for grievance redressal. Social media, instead of just spreading hate, can be used to publicly shame corrupt officials and celebrate honest ones. Let's create viral campaigns for our moral heroes, the bus conductor who returned a lost wallet, the farmer who adopted organic methods despite lower profits.
And it starts at home. It starts with you. The next time a traffic officer flags you down, don't reach for your wallet for a bribe. Take the ticket. The next time a relative forwards hateful nonsense on WhatsApp, gently send them a fact-check. Pay your house help on time, and pay them fairly. Treat the delivery person with kindness. These small acts are bricks. And brick by brick, we can rebuild the moral infrastructure of India.
That reporter in Uttar Pradesh was killed by a literal fire. But the fire that truly threatens us is a silent one, the slow burning away of our shared conscience. India is at a glorious, precarious moment. We can become a global tech powerhouse, a nation the world admires for its brains. But do we want to be a nation that the world cannot respect for its heart?
The choice is ours, and it is made every single day. It is made in the market, in the office, in the voting booth, and in the quiet of our own minds when we choose between what is easy and what is right. Our ancestors gave us a legacy of profound morality. Our children deserve a future of both innovation and integrity. Let's not be the generation that failed them. Let's put out the silent fire and rekindle the light.