There Is No Patriotic Way to Say No

In a village in eastern Uttar Pradesh, a phone rings from an unknown number. A woman answers, and a stranger asks her what she thinks of the government and a few other things.

She knows what the government means to her: the money that comes into her account, the gas cylinder, the ration, and the payment before sowing. No one has told her that phone surveys are anonymous, and even if they had, she would have no reason to trust it. So she is cautious. Not dishonest, just cautious. She only says safe things, then ends the call.

The same number calls a small town two districts away, where a young man answers. He has opinions on everything and knows how he wants to sound to a stranger asking for his views. When asked about Article 370, infiltration, or a developed India by 2047, he speaks confidently, since these are topics where people expect him to have answers; answers he often gets from messages sent by neighbours and political party workers. But when the questions are about his own expenses, he drops the act. He has nothing to hide there.

Two calls, two very different reasons for their answers. She responds because she depends on the government. He responds to protect his self-image. Yet, both end up giving answers that move the numbers in the same way.

There is something deeper at play here, something that goes back further than this survey or even the telephone. The person who asks the question usually has more power. If you watch any everyday conversation, you'll notice this: the questioner is often the officer, the journalist, the neta, the elder, the teacher, or the babu behind the counter, while the person answering is a step below. This isn't a flaw unique to India. People everywhere tend to defer to the questioner. But in a country where age, position, and caste still shape daily life, this deference is even more pronounced, especially when the questioner is an unknown voice and the subject is someone important. A cold call doesn't break this pattern; it actually brings it out. Even before either person fully understands the question, the answer is already shaped by who is asking and who is answering.

Another, more familiar layer is at work here. People don't just defer to the person asking questions; they also try to impress them. They give answers that make them look good: patriotic, knowledgeable, or on the right side of an issue. Survey researchers have a term for this and claim to adjust for it. When the answer that sounds good is also the safe one, people readily give it. But another side remains unaddressed because it's hard to measure. Trying to look good makes people more likely to share answers they're proud of. It doesn't help with the answers they're afraid to give; those are left out. This piece is about the answers that go unspoken.

This is the likely scenario behind the India Today-CVoter Mood of the Nation poll, which used random phone calls to conduct 25,184 interviews between July 1 and August 25. I know this because I have run similar surveys and seen the same patterns. It happens in face-to-face interviews too, but it is much more common over the phone. This is the biggest and most-quoted political survey in India, and I have read every edition for years. I have no client interest in the subject of this survey and no commercial relationship with any polling house; I write as a practitioner, not for one. I don't believe the numbers are wrong; they are mostly accurate. My point is that we have been treating these numbers as a measure of what Indians think, when they really show what Indians are willing to say to a stranger on the phone.

By 2026, these two things are no longer the same. The gap between what people think and what they say is now the most important issue in Indian politics, but no one is tracking it.

They measured it themselves and walked past it

Hidden in the middle of this survey is a question that quietly challenges everything else.

Respondents were asked whether they feel free to express their opinion on politics and religion. 54.1% said yes to both. 18% said they feel free on politics but not religion. 9% said they feel free on religion but not politics. 12% said neither.

Fewer than 55% of the people in this sample told the pollster, while being polled, that they felt free to say what they thought.

In all sixty-six pages of the report, no one links this finding to anything else. It is tucked away in the socio-political section under a heading on shrinking civic space, while the magazine focuses on leadership preferences down to the decimal point.

Think about what happened. A stranger telephoned a sample in which fewer than 55% say they feel free to speak their mind on politics and religion, and in which more than one in five say plainly that they are not free to talk about politics at all, asked them a long list of political questions, and the answers were counted as public opinion.

Both poles empty at once

If people are not answering honestly, it should show up in the data. And it does, especially on the two questions where telling the truth is the riskiest.

Ask whether communal harmony has improved under this government. In January, 39.6% said it has improved, and 32.2% said it deteriorated. Now 34% say it has improved and 29.5% say it has deteriorated.

Both groups shrank. So where did those people go? Now, 22.7% say things have stayed the same, and the number who say they do not know has almost doubled to 13.8%.

Now ask whether India has become safer for women. Safer falls from 44.1% to 38.3%. Less safe falls from 38.4% to 33.8%. Remained the same jumps from 13.8% to 21%, its highest reading since 2021.

Normally, opinions shift from one side to the other, not away from both at once. When both extremes lose people and more choose the middle or say they do not know, it is not a real change of mind. It means people are avoiding the question.

People avoid answering on the two topics where giving a wrong answer to a stranger feels riskiest. The magazine sees this as people losing faith that things are getting better. I see it as people becoming less willing to say what they really think.

Jantar Mantar, or the mechanism caught in the act

Everything so far is based on interpretation. What comes next is not, because we can see the same anger measured in two different ways during the same weeks.

This survey ran from 1 July to 25 August. That is precisely the window in which young India occupied Jantar Mantar over the NEET paper leak, tried to march on Parliament on 20 July, got beaten by the police, and forced the resignation of the Union education minister.

Look at what the protest was really about: the chants, the signs, and the memes that lasted for six weeks. The anger was not aimed at Dharmendra Pradhan. No one in India has ever made a meme about an education minister. The anger went straight to the top, as it often does in India, because everyone knows where the real decisions are made.

Now look at what the survey caught over those same weeks.

It caught the anger in the places where it is safe to put it. Modi's performance rating fell from 57% to 51.3%. 46.6% said the temple donation theft had damaged their view of both the Modi and the Yogi Adityanath governments. 43.2% said corruption has increased. 53% of young Indians rated the Centre's handling of the paper leak poor or very poor. 65% said the minister's resignation was needed or should have come sooner.

And on the single question asking who should be Prime Minister of India, the anger had nowhere to go. Rahul Gandhi's number moved just half a point, from 26.6 to 27.1.

The protest targeted Modi. The system let Pradhan take the blame. His rating slipped, and not one point of it reached the man who has spent two years asking for it.

The protest targeted Modi, but the system let Pradhan take the blame. The survey showed almost no change in leadership numbers, and the magazine called this resilience.

That is not the public forgiving him. Read the questions again, and you can see why. Every question that asks for a judgement registered the anger. The one question that asks for a choice did not, because that question does not ask what you think of the man. It asks who else there is, and answering it with somebody else's name is a declaration about yourself.

In just one summer and one set of data, you can see anger show up in every place where it is safe to express it, but it stops completely at the question that really matters.

Three ceilings, stacked in order of what they cost

Once you notice this, the whole survey falls into three layers. These layers are not about the topic, but about how risky it feels to share your opinion. You can see this in the chart above.

Nothing critical of this government, in political terms, gets past roughly 47% anywhere in this poll. Democracy is in danger: 46.7%. Elections are not free and fair: 40.9%. The BJP misuses the agencies: 43.8%. Corruption has increased: 43.2%. The temple theft damaged my view of both governments: 46.6%. Six questions, six subjects, one wall.

Criticism in economic terms goes twenty points further. Daily expenses have become difficult to manage: 65%. The employment situation is serious or very serious: 66.1%. My household income will stay the same or worsen: 64.2%. My economic status has not improved since 2014: 61.6%.

Agreement with the government's larger projects goes even further. Uniform Civil Code: 75%. Illegal immigration is a serious threat: 76%. One Nation, One Poll: 70%.

There are three levels, each with its own limit, based on how much it costs to speak out. Criticising the government politically is risky. Talking about your grocery bill is safe. Supporting the national project is even safer. In fact, it is rewarded. That is why the young man in the small town talks so confidently about infiltration but stays quiet about his salary.

The cleanest example is the one everybody quoted from this survey without reading it.

According to the magazine's coverage, 58% of Indians are enthusiastic about Viksit Bharat. A huge majority is inspired by the vision.

Here is the actual question. How enthusiastic are you about the slogan of a Viksit Bharat in 2047?

People are being asked about their enthusiasm for a slogan.

Nobody was asked whether they think it will happen. Nobody was asked whether they expect to see any of it, or whether they believe the people promising it. They were asked whether a phrase sounds good to them, and 58% said it does.

The year 2047 is still twenty-one years away, and the Prime Minister is seventy-five. By 2047, everyone making these promises will be gone or retired. A promise you can't check later isn't really a promise; it is just a distant dream. Being enthusiastic about a distant dream costs nothing, which is why 58% support it, while in a survey, no criticism of the government gets past 47%.

Also, look at the breakdown that was not highlighted: 41% are very enthusiastic, 17% are somewhat enthusiastic, 9% are not very enthusiastic, and 21% are not enthusiastic at all. More people reject the slogan outright than those who only half-accept it. This is a divided country, but it is reported as an inspired one.

The questions with no safe answer

Now stand back and look at what this survey never asks. Not once, in sixty-six pages.

It never asks whether you believe the promise will be kept. It never asks whether your children will be better off than you. It never asks whether this government has delivered on its promises.

The survey asks what you think about the government's record and about your own life. There are two layers, but nothing in between.

But the layer in between is where politics actually happens. Expectation and credibility. That is where a promise either converts into a vote or curdles into contempt, and Indian polling has no instrument for it.

This isn't a mistake, and it matters. The missing layer is the only one with no safe answer. You can tell a stranger you are excited about a developed India, because that sounds patriotic. You can say your onions cost more, because no one will object. But you cannot say you do not trust the government to keep its promises without revealing your true position. There is no patriotic way to say no.

So, the questions that could reveal hidden dissent are simply missing. The survey's blind spot matches exactly what it cannot detect. Two sides of the electorate's thinking are shown separately, never meeting, and the gap between them is reported as resilience.

Where the anger goes instead

The comfortable conclusion here is that all this undeclared anger sits quietly, waiting for someone to come and collect it. I do not think that is true, and this survey shows what actually happens to it.

The share of Indians who want caste-based reservation abolished entirely has risen from 28% in January to 32.2% now, the highest in three surveys. The share saying reservation is necessary for social equality has fallen to 23.9%, the lowest of the three readings, down from 26.7% a year ago.

And Jantar Mantar was occupied twice this summer. Once by young people demanding fair examinations. Once, within weeks, by people demanding that caste-based reservation be scrapped.

It is the same frustration: few opportunities, a system that feels unfair, and hard work that no longer leads to a better life. This frustration was voiced twice in one summer, in two different ways, but only one way was risky.

You cannot safely tell a stranger that this government has failed to create jobs. You can very safely tell him that somebody else is taking yours.

Unspoken anger does not just disappear. It turns into whatever complaint is currently allowed. This is the real cost of a political culture where dissent must be hidden, and it is much more dangerous than just getting a poll wrong.

Which is why a film star turned politician took 9%

If anger cannot be declared, then the vehicle that collects it cannot require a declaration.

Voting for Rahul Gandhi is a clear political statement. People notice it in the tea shop, at work, and in family groups. It defines you. But liking a film star who just became Chief Minister does not define you. It is just a preference, not a stance. You can change your mind easily, and it does not cost you anything until you are alone in the voting booth.

Which is why the most interesting number in this survey is 9.2%.

That is C. Joseph Vijay's share on the question of who is best suited to be India's next Prime Minister. He has been Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu for three months. He has no national organisation, no presence in the Hindi belt, and no record to run on. On who should lead the Opposition alliance, he takes 12.2%, ahead of Mamata Banerjee, Akhilesh Yadav and Arvind Kejriwal, who, between them, have spent something like a century building parties and running governments.

Now set that against Rahul Gandhi. His rating as Leader of the Opposition rose from 44% to 48.2%. His poor, and very poor, ratings fell from 30.6% to 27%. Inside his own party, those who say he is best suited to lead it rose from 35.6% to 40.5%.

His preferred prime minister number moved half a point.

People have decided he is doing a good job, but they have not chosen to say it where it matters. This was never about competence. These leaders have spent their lives in politics and have held power. They are experienced, not naive. The real issue is that supporting them means making a public statement, and many Indians have stopped doing that.

The cockroach knows exactly what it is doing

The clearest evidence in the whole package is also the strangest.

The Cockroach Janta Party was born out of an insult. It organised Jantar Mantar, it brought down a Union minister, and more than half of young Indians now view it positively.

Ask them what it should do next, and 42% say it should remain a pressure group. Only 30% want it to become a party and contest elections. Ask whether they would vote for it if it did contest, and 40% say yes while an equal 40% say no.

If you read this as journalism, it looks confusing. But as someone who works in the field, it makes sense. People want a way to express their anger without putting their name on it. Protests, jokes, and pressure groups are all ways to do this without risk. But joining a party or voting for a new one is a public act, and for many Indians, that feels too exposed.

15% say the existing parties adequately represent young Indians. 56% say they do very little or nothing at all. The demand is enormous. The willingness to be counted for it is not.

This is not new in India. It is a long-standing pattern. Whenever a large group needed to act but could not say why, they rallied behind someone they were already allowed to admire, like MGR, NTR, or Jayalalithaa. The leader is not the reason for the movement, but the permission to join it.

Why the turn, when it comes, will look sudden

Declared anger organises. It shows up at rallies, in by-elections, in polling. It also burns off, because saying it discharges some of it.

Hidden anger does not organise, so it seems invisible. It does not show up in surveys, because surveys only record what people say openly. And it does not fade away, because it is never expressed. It stays, grows stronger, finds an allowed outlet, or waits for a safe way to be expressed.

That is the state of Indian politics in 2026, and it explains what otherwise makes no sense. How this government keeps winning state elections while every social media feed in the country is full of cracked flyovers, leaked papers, waterlogged and potholed roads, stalled vehicles due to E20, missing jobs and stolen money from a temple's donation box. Why 60% want the ethanol policy changed, and it costs the government nothing. Why a paper leak can take down a minister without moving a single leadership number.

When change finally happens, it will not show up as a gradual trend. No one will see it coming, because our tools cannot detect it. It will look sudden, and afterwards, people will say the polls failed to catch it.

But the polls will not have missed it. They will have accurately recorded, until the very end, only what Indians were willing to say out loud.

The thing I cannot test

One honest limit to this argument exists, and someone should investigate it.

If any of this is right, the deniability is not uniform. It must be far stronger where the cost of speaking is higher. A caller in Kerala or Tamil Nadu, where the state government is not the BJP and criticising Delhi is ordinary local conversation, is in a completely different position from the woman in eastern Uttar Pradesh who opened this piece. So is a salaried man in a metro compared with a scheme beneficiary in a district town.

The national average combines everyone into a number that doesn't really describe anyone. The survey does not share state-level data, so I cannot check this, and I will not present it as fact. I want CVoter to break down the freedom-to-speak question by state and compare it across all political answers. I expect that the political ceiling is not truly national, but an average of states where people speak freely and states where they have learned not to.

I should clearly state what would prove me wrong, because an argument that cannot be disproved is not worth making. If the number of people who say they feel free to speak stays the same or goes up while political ceilings do not change, my argument is weaker, since fear should show up in that question first. If the January 2027 survey shows leadership numbers moving in tandem with household numbers, then there is no hidden layer, and the survey is measuring what it claims to measure. And if state-level data ever shows that the political ceiling is about the same in Kerala as in eastern Uttar Pradesh, then the wall is a real national opinion, not just an average. Any of these would mean I have confused a quiet electorate with a fearful one. I do not expect this, but I have said what would change my mind, something this survey never does.

What I would actually do with this

If you are in charge of BJP's communications, the problem is with delivery, not direction. The ideological base is still strong. What is slipping are the things people deal with every day: expenses, jobs, exams, roads, and even the temple donation box. More Viksit Bharat slogans will not fix this, because that slogan answers a question no one is asking at home. The leader's performance rating has dropped in three straight surveys, from 58% to 57% to 51.3%. This is the leadership number to watch, not the headline.

If you are in the opposition, stop trying to win the argument. The survey already shows you are winning it, but it is not turning into results. The problem is that voting for you means making a public statement. The solution is to lower that cost. Use local leaders instead of national ones. Choose vehicles that do not bring a national brand into every village. Pick candidates people can support for reasons beyond politics. Someone with only three months in office received 9.2% support because backing him needs no explanation.

If you analyse polls for a living, here is a simple rule from this survey: in India today, the most reliable part of a political survey is the non-political part. Household expenses, income expectations, and unemployment are honest answers. No one is afraid to talk about their grocery bill, and no one pretends to be patriotic about their salary. Anything with a name attached is just a minimum, not a true measurement.

The woman in eastern Uttar Pradesh will answer the phone again in January. She will be careful again, and she will be right to be. Her words will be converted into a number, which will be reported as the mood of the nation.

This is not really the mood of the nation. It is the sound of a country that has learned which opinions are safe to say out loud, being asked to repeat them to a stranger on an unexpected phone call.

Contact

tushar(at)tusharpanchal(dot)co

or

tushar(at)warroom(dot)live

Social

Subscribe