The Saffron Seer vs. The Saffron Agenda
11 Sep 2025Today marks another anniversary of a moment that electrified the world. On September 11, 1893, a saffron-clad monk from India stood before the Parliament of Religions in Chicago and began his address not with a formal platitude, but with five simple, revolutionary words: “Sisters and brothers of America.”
In that hall, Swami Vivekananda did more than introduce Hinduism to the West; he introduced a vision of India that was profound, universal, and fearless. He spoke of a nation that had sheltered the persecuted of all religions and all nations. He quoted the Vedas, declaring, “As the different streams having their sources in different places all mingle their water in the sea, so, O Lord, the different paths which men take through different tendencies, various though they appear, crooked or straight, all lead to Thee.”
It is a beautiful, powerful vision. And today, Vivekananda’s image is everywhere. He is a nationalist icon, celebrated by the very political forces that define themselves by the saffron they wear. Yet, a chilling paradox hangs in the air. As we mark this anniversary, we must ask an uncomfortable question: If the monk from Kolkata were alive today, would he recognize the India being built in his name?
The answer, if we are honest, is a resounding no. In fact, he would be horrified. The very forces that claim his legacy today would likely persecute him as an anti-national, a dangerous liberal, or worse.
Vivekananda’s core message was one of radical universalism, a principle he didn’t just state, but backed with historical pride. In that same Chicago speech, he proclaimed, “I am proud to tell you that we have gathered in our bosom the purest remnant of the Israelites, who came to Southern India and took refuge with us in the very year in which their holy temple was shattered… I am proud to belong to the religion which has sheltered and is still fostering the remnant of the grand Zoroastrian nation.”
He took pride in an India that offered shelter without prejudice. Now, place that profound pride next to the cold, bureaucratic logic of the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) and the National Register of Citizens (NRC). The CAA explicitly selects refugees based on their religion, welcoming some while pointedly excluding Muslims from neighbouring countries. When combined with the NRC, it creates a system where millions risk statelessness, with a religious test determining who gets a safety net.
Can we even imagine the man who celebrated sheltering Israelites from Roman tyranny and Zoroastrians from persecution endorsing a state that says, ‘You are welcome, but only if you are not from that faith’? It’s not just a betrayal of his philosophy of accepting all religions as true; it’s a repudiation of the very history he held up as India’s gift to the world.
Imagine him listening to the relentless, hateful rhetoric about “love jihad” or the constant dog whistles that paint over 200 million Indian Muslims as the ‘other.’ He would not see strength in this; he would see the very “sectarianism, bigotry, and its horrible descendant, fanaticism” that he lamented on that Chicago stage, declaring that they “have long possessed this beautiful earth.” The man who saw divinity in every being would never stand for an ideology that builds its power by telling one group of Indians to fear their neighbors.
But his dissent wouldn’t stop at religious inclusivity. Vivekananda was a fierce rationalist. He was a disciple of the mystic Ramakrishna, yet his message to the youth of India was not to retreat into ritual, but to build their minds and bodies. “We want educated men,” he insisted, “We want men who can harness their wills and gallop gallantly onward.” He railed against superstition, against the “kitchen-religion” of arbitrary rules, and pleaded for a scientific temper.
What would this spiritual scientist make of the current assault on reason? Imagine his reaction to the director of a premier institution like IIT Mandi claiming to exorcise ghosts from a hostel and advising students that chanting mantras can stop cloudbursts. Vivekananda, who wanted to build a nation on the bedrock of science and reason, would be appalled to see the temples of modern education being led by individuals who champion such profound anti-scientific thought.
Consider the official government push to place homeopathy and Ayurveda on the same pedestal as evidence-based, peer-reviewed medicine. While these are ancient traditions, Vivekananda’s call was for testing every belief on the anvil of reason. He would have seen the uncritical promotion of unproven treatments not as a celebration of heritage, but as a dangerous slide back into the very superstition he fought against. The bigotry that thrives today is not a sign of strength or cultural pride; it is the product of this intellectual and spiritual decay he warned against. It is the refuge of those who are too afraid to engage with the world as it is, and too weak to embrace the muscular, open-hearted philosophy he preached.
So, as we see his image on posters and hear his name invoked in speeches, we must be discerning. The Vivekananda being celebrated today is a carefully curated, conveniently sanitized version. His most challenging, most universal, and most rational ideas have been quietly shelved. What remains is an empty saffron robe, a symbol co-opted to justify an agenda he would have utterly rejected.
The final, painful question is this: would a man who preached against bigotry, championed universal acceptance, and demanded rational thought be welcome in an India that increasingly defines itself by narrow religious and cultural boundaries?
Of course not. He would be a dissenter. A protestor. A voice crying in the wilderness. And it is precisely that voice—his true voice—that we must reclaim from the noise of fanaticism. It’s on us to read him, to understand him, and to choose which vision of India we will build: the one he dreamed of, or the one being forged in his name.