In the theatre of Indian politics, policies may dictate the economy, but it is narratives that ultimately dictate perception. The latest GST reforms hailed by the government as ‘landmark’ and ‘historic’ along with the bruising debates over the 130th Constitutional Amendment, reveal how political storytelling, media choreography, and post-session spin often overshadow substance. In today’s climate, what matters is not just what the government does, but how it frames what it does, and whether the Opposition can seize or resist that framing.
Earlier this week, the GST Council convened its 56th meeting in New Delhi, revising taxes on a wide spectrum of items from household products and cars to beverages and electronics. The decisions themselves were significant, but what was equally striking was the language used to present them. Words such as “landmark” and “biggest ever since the 1990s” were splashed across headlines and soundbites. The hyperbole was unmistakable. For students of political communication, this episode offered a textbook example of how governments attempt to manufacture narratives. What the Opposition has been demanding for years such as lowering the burden of taxes on medical and health insurance was suddenly framed as a groundbreaking reform.
The Union Government’s cheerleaders in sections of the media worked hard to elevate these revisions into history-making moments, equating them with the economic reforms of Dr. Manmohan Singh in the 1990s. The irony, however, is that the same demands were consistently raised by the Opposition over the last eight years inside Parliament and outside. The real story here lies not in the reforms themselves, but in how they are communicated and packaged for mass consumption.
The timing of Home Minister Amit Shah’s 45-minute interview with a news agency was telling. Conducted just after the conclusion of the monsoon session of Parliament, it appeared to be an attempt to regain lost ground. In the interview, his defensive opening remark “Through your medium, I would like to inform the people of the country what exactly is the 130th Constitutional Amendment” gave away the government’s anxiety.
During the Parliament session, the Opposition had relentlessly pressed on issues such as the undemocratic nature of the Special Intensive Revision, the Vice President’s sudden resignation, and the introduction of the 130th Amendment on the final day of proceedings. The government’s tactics rushing legislation, deploying marshals, and stonewalling questions were met with sharp pushback through parliamentary devices such as motions, notices, and debates.
The result? The government lost narrative control in the House, and the Home Minister sought to shift the battlefield to a friendlier arena: a television interview marked by soft questioning. But the discomfort was evident furrowed brows, defensive tone, and repeated invocations of political stalwarts like LK Advani and George Fernandes. Meanwhile, six major Opposition parties chose to boycott the Joint Parliamentary Committee on the amendment, underscoring the government’s inability to control the story.
With Bihar elections approaching in less than 90 days, every word and image carries electoral weight. In this atmosphere, the Opposition’s Voter Adhikar Yatra gained significant traction on the ground. The march highlighted alleged voter suppression and “vote theft” under the Special Intensive Revision process, drawing wide participation across districts.
Yet, since its conclusion, the ruling coalition has worked overtime to shift attention from these allegations. Clips showing alleged abuses directed at the Prime Minister during campaign events have been amplified on social media, accompanied by emotional commentaries and appeals to sympathy. By playing the victim card, the government has attempted to deflect focus from the substance of the Yatra. Narrative deflection, in this case, is about shifting the voter’s emotional engagement away from institutional critiques and toward personal attacks.
The evolving media landscape is also reshaping how politicians communicate. Consider the example of a young Opposition MP who recently gave two podcast interviews on the same day one to a legacy media house, another to an independent digital platform. Both interviews carried the hallmarks of the podcast format: intimate settings, candid tone, and longer duration. Yet, the results were radically different.
On the legacy media channel’s YouTube page, the interview drew modest attention. On the independent digital platform, however, viewership skyrocketed one hundred times higher. The lesson is clear: politicians today have the tools to bypass traditional gatekeepers and connect directly with audiences. Narrative ownership now depends on choosing the right platforms and cultivating authenticity, not just visibility.
The GST reforms and the 130th Constitutional Amendment episode have laid bare the mechanics of modern political communication in India. Governments manufacture narratives, Opposition forces deflect them, and politicians of all hues strive to own them in the digital space. Behind every tax revision or legislative amendment lies a larger contest: the battle for narrative supremacy.
For observers of politics, the question is not just what happened, but how it was told, retold, and reframed. In today’s India, the story is often as important as the substance.