The Perils of Perpetual Negativity in Public Discourse

A healthy democracy is sustained not merely by elections and laws, but by a culture of questioning, discussion, and accountability. Governments need to be scrutinised, and intellectuals, journalists, writers, and thinkers have traditionally played this vital role. In Assam, as in the rest of India, such voices have shaped debates, influenced policies, and acted as moral compasses during moments of crisis. Yet in recent years, there has been a noticeable shift in the tone of certain public commentators. Instead of measured engagement with issues, there is a tendency among some to reject almost every government initiative on principle, assuming it must be flawed simply because it comes from those in power.

This is not the dissent that democracy needs. Constructive criticism is the lifeblood of a vibrant public sphere—it challenges complacency, corrects mistakes, and inspires better governance. But criticism that is unrelenting, indiscriminate, and reflexive loses much of its value. When every policy is met with the same tone of disapproval, no matter its content or merit, the act of critique becomes less about guiding the state towards improvement and more about maintaining an oppositional stance for its own sake.

Assam’s current context offers many examples. The updating of the National Register of Citizens, the implementation of the Citizenship (Amendment) Act, the construction of infrastructure projects, reforms in education, or government welfare schemes—all of these have been met with sharp opposition from certain quarters. Opposition in itself is not the problem; it is necessary where there are genuine risks or oversights. But when such opposition refuses to distinguish between what is workable and what is harmful, or to acknowledge positive outcomes alongside shortcomings, it risks alienating both policymakers and the public.

The consequences of this constant fault-finding are far-reaching. Over time, habitual negativity erodes credibility. The public begins to see such criticism not as an honest evaluation, but as a predictable reflex shaped by ideology or personal animosity. Even when a valid concern is raised, it is likely to be dismissed as yet another instance of routine opposition. This diminishes the influence of those who might otherwise have been respected contributors to important debates.

For Assam, the stakes are high. The state is grappling with challenges that require nuance and collaboration—balancing the protection of indigenous identity with economic growth, addressing environmental concerns while pursuing infrastructure development, and improving livelihoods without eroding cultural heritage. These are not problems that can be solved through blanket rejection of policies. They demand well-thought-out alternatives, practical suggestions, and, where appropriate, constructive partnership between civil society and the state.

Criticism without alternatives becomes a form of theatre—satisfying for its participants but ultimately unhelpful for society. It shuts down dialogue before it begins. In a climate where public discourse is already polarised, such stubborn postures can harden divides rather than bridge them. Governments, feeling that engagement with certain intellectual circles will only lead to more hostility, may simply stop consulting them. This leads to a vicious cycle—critics are excluded from the policymaking process, policies lack the benefit of their input, and the resulting shortcomings only fuel further opposition.

To break this cycle, it is important to recognise that acknowledging a positive aspect of government policy does not mean endorsing the government uncritically. It means valuing truth over partisanship. A well-constructed bridge, a functional welfare scheme, or an effective public health measure should be acknowledged as such, even if one remains opposed to other aspects of governance. Such recognition strengthens the moral authority of criticism by showing that it is guided by fairness rather than predisposition.

The present-day political climate in Assam and India is charged. Questions of citizenship, identity, resource management, and federal relations are deeply emotional and often contentious. This makes the role of balanced intellectual engagement even more critical. Where the government falls short—whether in protecting the environment, ensuring transparency, or addressing inequality—it must be challenged firmly. But where progress is visible, it should be recognised with equal candour. This approach is not weakness; it is the mark of intellectual integrity.

Some argue that constant opposition keeps governments alert. While vigilance is necessary, the form it takes matters greatly. Perpetual disapproval, without space for agreement or cooperation, risks creating an atmosphere of cynicism. Citizens may come to believe that nothing the government does is worth supporting, which weakens democratic participation itself. Worse, such cynicism can sap the energy needed to mobilise around truly urgent issues, because the public becomes numb to a constant stream of criticism.

The dignity of the intellectual role lies in the ability to rise above personal or political loyalties, to analyse each policy on its merits, and to speak truth to power while remaining open to truth from any source. It also lies in the ability to inspire the public to think critically, not just negatively. When public debate in Assam degenerates into predictable attacks and equally predictable counterattacks, it fails to address the complex realities of governance in a diverse and developing state.

Today, Assam stands at a crossroads. Infrastructure is expanding, digital connectivity is growing, and certain sectors are witnessing economic improvement. At the same time, concerns over environmental degradation, unemployment, and cultural preservation remain urgent. A discourse that blends appreciation where it is due with criticism where it is necessary could help chart a more balanced course. By contrast, a discourse rooted only in opposition risks turning into noise that policymakers learn to ignore.

In the end, the aim of public engagement should be to improve governance, not merely to undermine it. This requires courage to criticise and equal courage to acknowledge achievement. If public commentators in Assam and across India can shift from reflexive negativity to constructive engagement, they will strengthen both their own credibility and the democratic process itself. Governments benefit from being held to account, but societies benefit most when that accountability is exercised with fairness, clarity, and a shared sense of purpose.

Perpetual criticism may make headlines, but it rarely makes progress. It is through reasoned debate, acknowledgement of merit, and the offering of workable alternatives that intellectual voices can truly shape a better future. In Assam’s current political climate, where every issue is closely tied to identity, development, and the complex interplay between state and national interests, such voices are not only valuable—they are essential. The responsibility lies not just with those who govern, but equally with those who question them, to ensure that the questioning serves the public good rather than the satisfaction of opposition alone.