India’s Expressway to Prosperity Risks a Crash

As the country eyes developed-nation status by 2047, a deepening moral vacuum and rising everyday lawlessness threaten to derail its growth story.

AI generated image

India became the world’s fourth-largest economy this year. It is slated to be the fastest-growing large economy and is expected to become the third-largest by 2030. It has shown the confidence to sign a free trade agreement (FTA) with the country that once ruled it, the United Kingdom, with many more such bilateral FTAs in the offing. With about 30 kilometres of national highways being built each day, infrastructure development is receiving a significant push. India's digital economy is now one of the most dynamic in the world. Nothing could be more reassuring when it comes to India's stated ambition of becoming a developed country by 2047.

Contrast this with the daily news of crime pouring in from almost every part of the country. This is not about terrorist attacks in Kashmir or serious financial offences in the corporate sector. Those are certainly alarming. But there are many other, perhaps more ominous, crimes that are not receiving the attention they deserve.

Take, for instance, a heinous crime against a woman in a medical college or on public transport in broad daylight in a bustling metropolis. Or a gruesome honour killing in a remote village. Consider shocking and unimaginable cases of domestic violence—by parents against children, husbands against wives and vice versa, or one sibling against another. There are mothers who poison their own children and then take their own lives. There are neighbours who seriously harm or even kill one another over trivial disputes – be it over a pet or strangers who kill after a minor roadside altercation about parking. Consider competitive exam aspirants ending their lives in despair, or dismissed workers taking revenge by killing their employer. Consider teenagers killing pedestrians due to drunken or reckless driving. Or passers-by taking the law into their own hands, blaming truck drivers for accidents and beating them at the scene. Or brazen attacks on policemen simply for doing their duty and enforcing traffic rules. These incidents reflect a society on edge, where empathy is fading and rage lies just beneath the surface.

These crimes cannot be dismissed as mere aberrations in a large society. More often than not, they are not acts of organised crime, nor are their perpetrators hardened criminals. They are not motivated by politics or the lure of money. It is the absence of a clear motive that makes them more unsettling. They point to a deeper malaise of a transformation in the collective psyche.

The importance of law and order to economic development cannot be overstated. Developed Western countries permit dissent and its lawful expression, but public behaviour, even within private spaces, is strictly governed by law. Authoritarian states such as China go further, often enforcing rules with an iron hand. India, by contrast, has always had a ‘chalta hai’ culture - an informal mindset where rules are to be bent, if not broken. For decades, this did not seem to threaten social stability. That is because ‘chalta hai’ in public life was counterbalanced by the strength of the Indian family system in private life.

Values such as respect for others, patience, gratitude, empathy and community-mindedness were instilled from a young age and absorbed by watching and listening to elders. But with the liberalisation of the economy in the early 1990s, rapid urbanisation, the shift from joint to nuclear families, rising numbers of dual-income households, and mass migration of working adults have all weakened this foundation. In today’s fast-paced life, there is little time left for families to carefully pass down a value system. Social media and the internet have further reduced face-to-face interaction. Young people now spend more time online than with their elders, absorbing values shaped by virality rather than wisdom. Combined with the persistence of a ‘chalta hai’ attitude, this means that there is neither strict rule enforcement nor a strong moral compass derived from family life. The result is a kind of emotional illiteracy, an inability to process conflict without escalation. This vacuum is unique to India.

Another legacy of globalisation makes matters worse: the hyper-competitive environment that begins in early childhood. Pre-liberalisation generations grew up in relatively stress-free surroundings, allowing them to develop deep social and cultural roots. With such grounding, they could embrace the demands of a globalised economy and reap its rewards. But younger generations have not had that luxury. Pushed into cut-throat competition from early on, raised in homes without the support systems of old, and surrounded by a culture of disregard for rules, it is unsurprising that impatience, frustration and restlessness are on the rise. The disturbing rise in mindless crimes across all socio-economic classes must be seen against this backdrop. A society that rewards achievement but neglects emotional resilience breeds brittle individuals, liable to snap under pressure.

Unlike Western nations, India does not enjoy low population density or a history free from oppression. Unlike China, it is a democracy, rightly refusing to adopt the coercive enforcement of authoritarian regimes. The values once transmitted by Indian families helped the country maintain a stable civil society. But those values are now fading. If they cannot be reinstated, then the “chalta hai” culture must end. Law enforcement must be visible, consistent and effective. From cracking down on road encroachments to enforcing basic traffic rules, the state must act. Law-abiding citizens must feel that the machinery of the state is with them—not with those breaking the law.

People tend to stay composed and adapt to competition without becoming ruthless only if they sense that the system around them is working and fair. Nothing illustrates this better than behaviour at a bus stop. People wait patiently when there is a queue and the assurance that another bus will arrive soon. In the absence of order, however, they push and shove to get in however they can. That is essentially the Indian state today in a microcosm: no queue, no clarity, no assurance. Only chaos.

Fast-paced economic development cannot coexist with rampant lawlessness among ordinary citizens. Building high-speed expressways without first enforcing traffic discipline only results in more fatal accidents and traffic snarls. With neither the family-driven values of the past nor the governance strength to replace them, Indian society finds itself at a uniquely precarious juncture. The world may marvel at India’s growth figures, but what happens on its streets and in its homes tells a more sobering story. If these challenges are not addressed with equally unique and effective solutions, they may well become the fatal blind spot on India’s expressway to Vikasit Bharat.

(The author works in the Information Technology sector. Views personal.)