Explained: This article explains the political background, key decisions, and possible outcomes related to Explained : Shashi Tharoor and the Cassandra Curse in Indian Politics and Its Impact and why it matters right now.
In Greek mythology, Cassandra, daughter of the King of Troy, was granted the gift of prophecy by Apollo. After rejecting his advances, she was cursed so that no one would believe her warnings.
Cassandra was cursed not with ignorance but with clarity. She foresaw the fall of Troy and the catastrophe that lay ahead, but accepting her warnings would have required Troy to confront its own decay. It was easier to dismiss the messenger.
Indian politics has perfected this curse.
Few contemporary Indian politicians embody the Cassandra dilemma as consistently as Congress MP Shashi Tharoor. Over the years, he has developed a reputation for saying what is institutionally correct, democratically necessary, or morally defensible – only to find himself attacked not just by political opponents, but by his own side too. The reactions are often predictable: selective outrage framed in the prism of narrow political focus, and nuanced positions reduced to social media fodder.
The discomfort Tharoor generates is not based on ideology. It stems from something far more destabilising for today’s politicians: an insistence that democratic principles should apply regardless of who is in power.
Take his recent warnings about the erosion of parliamentary standards. In a country where Parliament is supposed to be supreme, Tharoor has argued that disruption has become institutionalised, hollowing out scrutiny and weakening democracy itself.
He criticised the BJP for bulldozing legislation without consultation, for reducing Parliament to a rubber stamp, and for the Prime Minister’s rare presence in the House, a sharp contrast, he pointed out, to Jawaharlal Nehru’s daily engagement.
But he did not stop there. He also called out the opposition, noting that obstructionist tactics once used by the BJP during the UPA years are now routinely employed by the INDIA bloc.
In a healthier democracy, such even-handed criticism would be seen as intellectual honesty. In today’s climate, it was framed as betrayal. Reactions to his statement focused not on the substance of his argument, but on the supposed audacity of Tharoor for criticising his own benches, seen as an extension of a proxy war between him and the Congress high command or his outreach to the ruling party, depending on the sources.
This pattern repeats itself relentlessly.
When Tharoor congratulated the UDF for its victory in Kerala local body elections while also acknowledging the BJP’s improved performance in his Thiruvananthapuram constituency as “the beauty of democracy”, outrage followed. Entire headlines were built around a single line praising the BJP, conveniently ignoring his broader endorsement of the Congress-led alliance. The problem was not what he said, but that he refused to see democracy through a partisan filter.
The same fate met his recent article describing the 1975–77 Emergency as a “dark period” marked by “unspeakable atrocities”. The historical record is not in dispute, yet sections of the Congress reacted as if acknowledging uncomfortable truths amounted to parroting BJP narratives. That reaction reflects a system where parties are increasingly uncomfortable with internal dissent and leadership reigns supreme over principles and policies.
Against this backdrop, Tharoor often finds himself articulating inconvenient truths – only to see the substance drowned out by political noise. This was evident during the controversy over Kerala’s K-Rail project, when he initially refused to reject the proposal outright simply because it originated from a rival government.
Tharoor argued that large development projects deserved to be heard, discussed, and evaluated on merit before being condemned. In a functioning parliamentary culture, this would have been seen as responsible lawmaking. Instead, his refusal to indulge in blind opposition was portrayed as disloyalty and anti-party.
His long-standing opposition to hartals – a protest tool criticised by courts, economists, and ordinary citizens alike – is another example. His position aligns with public interest and economic logic, yet it draws near-universal political hostility because it challenges a practice that suits parties across the spectrum. When truth inconveniences everyone, it finds few defenders.
This is the Cassandra paradox in action. Most of the arguments that people like Tharoor raise are rarely demolished on merit. They are neutralised by reframing the conversation around intent, allegiance, and optics. The messenger becomes the story; the message quietly disappears.
None of this is to suggest that Tharoor is a flawless politician or a misunderstood saviour. Despite attracting a sizable following, many of his critics argue that, as a record-breaking four-time MP from Thiruvananthapuram, he has failed to create anything substantial that matches his intellectual rhetoric. Many political pundits argue that he lacks the Machiavellian instincts required to climb up the greasy pole of Indian politics.
Tharoor now seems to be drifting aimlessly as shores to anchor himself look increasingly difficult to find. In an era where even Chanakya would struggle to survive, getting the backing of his party or forming a new party looks like a mirage despite the public goodwill he commands.
The tragedy here is not about one individual’s stalled ascent. It is about a political culture that no longer has the moral or intellectual capacity to process nuance. A system where loyalty must be absolute, criticism must be total, and intellectual honesty is a burden. Where acknowledging a rival’s correct action is heresy, and criticising one’s own side is treason.
This is leading to a state where institutions and entities that ought to reign as pillars of our democracy – legislature, courts, bureaucracy and media – are being reshaped into platforms that reinforce the rot.
Cassandra was ignored not because she was unclear, but because heeding her call would have demanded change. Troy chose status quo over the acceptance of mistakes and paid the price.
Indian politics would do well to remember that tragedy. Because when democratic warnings are dismissed as disloyalty and truth is reduced to partisan inconvenience, the complete unravelling – when it comes – will not shock us. It will merely confirm what was said all along, by voices we trained ourselves not to hear.