Politicalparties in India seem to believe that when you cannot convince the people, confuse them. That perhaps explains the contradictions in their positions on almost every issue. Whether it is Gen Z or Vande Mataram, their arguments often have neither head nor tail. To have a head or tail, however, you need a body—and that is precisely what appears to be missing from much of our political discourse.

Political parties seem to be in a hurry to chant the Gen Z mantra in the hope of attracting votes. It apparently does not matter to them whether Gen Z is moving in the right direction or heading down the wrong path. If we must hand over a country to Gen Z to rebuild, it means the generations before them have already destroyed it. The real responsibility should be to hand over a country ready to move forward, not one that needs to be rebuilt first.

It is shocking to see Gen Baby Boomers (61–80) and Gen X (45–61) constantly invoke Gen Z while forgetting that their real responsibility is to mentor, guide, and prepare the younger generation to take over the reins of the country. Instead, for the sake of a few votes, they support—or pretend to support—young people even when they violate the law. Worse, some of these older generations themselves violate the law and then shamelessly defend their actions.

For cheap publicity, some Gen X politicians and activists indulge in theatrics, claim to speak for Gen Z and even make objectionable remarks against the Army. They seem to believe that invoking “Gen Z” gives them a licence to justify anything and everything. What is more disturbing is the manner the opposition parties attempt to defend such behaviour by linking it to unrelated political issues.

Take the recent incident in Ladakh. A woman tourist, apparently from Gen X, objected to a road blockade by Army personnel at a check post, questioning the manner in which the security personnel were handling the situation. She was heard shouting, “We are Gen Z,” and saying that such behaviour would not be tolerated. She also reminded the personnel that they were paid from taxpayers’ money.

This is not the first time that irresponsible remarks have been made against the Army. Far more objectionable comments were reportedly made during the politically charged agitation against the NEET paper-leak issue at Jantar Mantar on July 20. Those making such statements need to remember one basic fact: they can protest freely because the Army and other security forces protect the country’s borders.

The Ladakh woman later apologised, apparently fearing legal consequences, saying frustration had driven her to behave that way. But an apology after crossing the line does not erase the act. It raises a larger question about character-building, parenting, and respect for the law. Increasingly, there appears to be a belief among sections of the younger generation that wealth, influence, or the language of “freedom” can place them above accountability.

Political parties, driven by electoral calculations, refuse to call a spade a spade. Instead, they try to defend the indefensible when the offender happens to belong to a constituency they hope to attract.

The same contradiction is visible in the opposition’s stand on Vande Mataram. The Congress Working Committee’s 1937 decision to restrict the song did not resolve the political issue then, yet some leaders continue to invoke that position today despite Parliament having taken a fresh position on the matter.

Having a difference of opinion with a law is perfectly legitimate. But declaring that one will not follow a law passed by Parliament raises a far more serious question. If lawmakers themselves refuse to follow the law, what message are they sending to Gen Z? Do laws need to be obeyed only when one agrees with them? Does Parliament have value only when it does what a particular political party wants?

It was particularly unfortunate to hear Rahul Gandhi speak of singing “hamara version” of Vande Mataram. Once Parliament has prescribed a particular form, there cannot be competing political versions of the national song simply to suit political convenience. The issue has also been unnecessarily communalised. I have interacted with several Muslims in both the Telugu states and Gujarat in recent times, and none expressed objection to singing the full version of Vande Mataram. The Congress and its allies, which have raised such a hue and cry, should explain whether their objection is genuinely about religious sentiment or about electoral calculations.

The Congress’s position also raises questions about consistency. Karnataka’s state song contains references to figures including Lord Rama, Lord Krishna, Sage Kapila, Sage Patanjali, Sri Ramanuja, Guru Nanak, Swami Vivekananda and Gautama Buddha. Will the Congress, in keeping with its 1937 position, demand changes to that song? The River Krishna is mentioned in the state songs of both Andhra Pradesh and Telangana. Will those references also be removed?

It is time to stop selectively invoking the 1937 resolution. Congress leaders often point out that Mahatma Gandhi, Sardar Patel, Rabindranath Tagore, Subhas Chandra Bose, and Jawaharlal Nehru accepted the decision to omit certain stanzas. But history is more complicated than that. Bose, for instance, was not initially in favour of the truncated version and accepted the decision under pressure. Several other prominent leaders like C Rajagopalachari, H V Kamath (1912–1982), a distinguished freedom fighter, journalist, parliamentarian and constitutionalist, and Ramananda Chatterjee expressed reservations.

Why, then, should one 1937 decision be treated as sacrosanct nearly nine decades later? During the freedom struggle, Vande Mataram was sung in its original form despite objections from the Muslim League. The Congress’s later decision was essentially a political compromise of its time. Circumstances have changed. India has changed. Parliament has changed. Why should political parties remain trapped in a 90-year-old political calculation?

If opposition parties genuinely believe that a law passed by Parliament is unconstitutional or wrong, they have every right to challenge it before the Supreme Court. That is the democratic way. Acting as though they are above Parliament or the Constitution is not.

The larger irony is that parties that constantly claim to be defenders of the Constitution sometimes hesitate to support provisions or reforms that are also rooted in the constitutional framework. If constitutional principles are to be respected, they cannot be selectively invoked only when politically convenient.

Political parties must understand that before being members of a community, a political constituency, or a generation, every citizen is an Indian. If someone does not wish to sing Vande Mataram, that is a personal choice. But there should be no attempt to prevent others from singing the full version, nor should its rendering be disrupted, as was reportedly seen at the AICC office in New Delhi.

And this brings us back to Gen Z—the generation that supposedly wants reforms in everything.

Here is the question they should ask themselves: Do we want to inherit a politics that teaches us to respect the law, debate it, and change it democratically? Or do we want a politics that teaches us to reject every rule that we dislike?

Do we want to be progressive or regressive?

The answer will determine not merely how Gen Z votes, but what kind of India it eventually inherits—and what kind of India it chooses to build.

(The author is former Chief Editor of The Hans India)