Lead article published in oHeraldo on May 25, 2026
A society does not
become tolerant merely because the streets overflow with booze, food and
merriment.
The
recent controversy surrounding the hate-filled remarks against a revered
catholic missionary saint was yet another flashpoint in Goa’s struggle with
communal rhetoric. At first glance, the outrage it generated appears to signal
a society unwilling to tolerate bigotry. But a closer look suggests something
more troubling; the reaction itself may be fuelling the tactics employed from
the playbook of societal polarisation it claims to resist.
There
is no doubt that the remarks were reprehensible. But how they were circulated,
debated, and instrumentalised can enable a pattern that benefits forces
investing in deepening societal divisions. The cycle is by now familiar. An
incendiary statement is made, it is amplified through social media, outrage
follows, and political actors seize upon the moment to consolidate their
respective bases. The public sphere gets gradually polarised along communal
lines, episode after episode.
For
decades, Goa has sold itself as an exception in India’s increasingly polarised
landscape. But beneath this comforting self-image lies a harder truth: Goa has
never been entirely free of communal fissures. Goa’s much-celebrated pluralism
is less a lived reality than a convenient myth. The duplicity of ‘goykarponn’ makes
it difficult to configure as to where the caste manipulation for political
power and business monopoly ends, and religious intolerance begins. A society
does not become tolerant merely because the streets overflow with booze, food
and merriment. Violence does not need to be only physical rioting. It can also
be psychological, social and political. It exists in humiliation, suspicion,
intimidation and the constant signalling that a community does not fully
belong. And it is this disguised and diplomatic form of violence that is being
employed in Goa.
The
hypocrisy surfaces in insinuations that some minorities are somehow less Indian
because of their faith. It appears in conspiracy-laden conversations about
conversions, demographics and “foreign influence”. It emerges when minority initiatives
are viewed with suspicion while majoritarian assertions are framed as natural expressions
of nationalism. It becomes visible when attacks on minority identity are
dismissed as isolated incidents rather than symptoms of a broader ideological
shift. Even if no stone is thrown and no place of worship burned, but a
community is repeatedly given the message, directly or indirectly, that its
history is suspect, its patriotism conditional, or its political and cultural
presence is excessive, the damage is profound. Fear does not require mobs.
Alienation does not require riots.
This
denied reality in Goa explains why those who target the minorities through
inflammatory rhetoric and communal provocation can operate with growing
confidence. They are not creating divisions from nothing. They are exploiting
tensions that already exist beneath Goa’s carefully preserved self-image.
Beneath this visible coexistence lies an undercurrent that many Goans privately
recognise yet publicly hesitate to confront, the growing normalisation of
anti-minority sentiment in social discourse and political culture.
History
across the world shows that societies fracture long before physical violence
becomes visible. The emotional groundwork comes first. Stereotypes get repeated
often enough to become common sense, minorities are pressured to constantly
prove loyalty, and public discourse is shaped around resentment and grievance.
Communalism often advances gradually through language, symbolism, historical
revisionism and social suspicion before manifesting in more visible forms.
Fundamentalism,
like chemical addiction, feeds on vulnerability, rewards repetition, resists
correction, and thrives in enabling environments. Treating it only as a legal
and political issue without addressing its psychological roots ensures that
society remains trapped in an endless cycle of provocation, outrage, and
recurrence. Hatred offers emotionally vulnerable individuals a seductive
illusion of superiority. By reducing another community, religion, caste, or
ethnicity, the bigot temporarily elevates himself.
Like
chemical addiction, ideological extremism provides emotional intoxication. It
offers certainty to the insecure, belonging to the isolated, identity to the
confused, and power to the resentful. The bigoted mind, much like the addicted
mind, becomes dependent on emotional highs from outrage, victimhood,
superiority, and the constant reinforcement of “us versus them.” Just as
addicts frequently resist intervention by becoming defensive or hostile,
ideological extremists interpret criticism as persecution. For them police
action feeds the delusion that they are “dangerous truth-tellers.” Public
condemnation feeds their martyr complex.
When
bigotry is tied to identity, fear, political power, or emotional conditioning,
facts alone rarely produce immediate transformation. Psychologists call this
motivated reasoning, in which people tend to protect beliefs that give them
belonging, certainty, or status, even when contrary evidence is presented. In
such cases, rebutting distortion with facts can paradoxically make some people
cling more tightly to the falsehood because admitting error feels like losing
identity or community.
This
is not to advocate for silence in the face of hate speech. Accountability is
essential in any democracy and the law must take its course. However, when
outrage becomes performative rather than transformative, it risks serving as a
recruitment tool for majoritarian politics. Each viral clip, each angry
hashtag, can harden identities rather than challenge prejudice. The
conversation shifts from addressing the root of what enables such rhetoric to a
spectacle of indignation that ultimately changes little. The visuals of
reactions from clerics, with religious symbols as the backdrop, provide the
most desired publicity material for the fundamentalist propaganda. A “healthy” response
does not ignore the insult, but tactically avoids getting pulled into the
emotional and social dynamics that make such provocations powerful in the first
place.
Better
late than never, Goa needs to wake up and resist the current trajectory. But
resistance requires honesty. It requires acknowledging that communalism does
not always arrive shouting. Sometimes it arrives smiling, joking, provoking and
normalising itself into everyday conversation until prejudice becomes ordinary.
Combating hate requires more than
outrage after each incident; it requires long-term civic healing. The law can
punish conduct. It can restrain incitement. But it cannot alone cure emotional
dependency on hatred.


