“The era of obedience is over.” With this simple yet profound observation, RSS Sarsanghchalak Mohan Bhagwat may have identified one of the defining characteristics of contemporary India. Speaking at a recent programme in New Delhi, Bhagwat remarked that today’s youth no longer accept authority unquestioningly. They ask questions. They expect reasons. They deserve affection, time and dialogue. Communication, he cautioned, is increasingly absent not only from public life but also within families.
His remarks have naturally resonated during the ongoing debates over the NEET controversy, the rise of digitally mobilised Gen Z activism and even the emergence of meme-driven political expressions such as the so-called “Cockroach Janta Party”.
But Bhagwat’s observation raises a far deeper question. If the era of unquestioning obedience is indeed over, what replaces it? Is it perpetual outrage? Is it rebellion against every institution? Or does it demand something far more profound—a return to the civilisational ideal of responsible inquiry? The answer may lie not in modern political theory but in the timeless wisdom of Sanatan Dharma.
Blind Obedience Was Never Sanatan Ideal
Many assume that questioning authority is a modern, Western or post-Enlightenment idea. In reality, India nurtured a culture of intellectual inquiry long before Europe embraced formal dialectics.
Prime Minister Narendra Modi has repeatedly urged the nation to free itself from ghulami ki mansikta, the colonial mindset. While this phrase is often understood in political terms, its intellectual dimension is equally significant. Colonial rule did not merely occupy territory; it also reshaped the way people were taught to think. The educational framework introduced by Thomas Macaulay was designed to produce efficient administrators who obeyed instructions rather than citizens who questioned assumptions.
Blind obedience therefore became more than a social habit. It became an instrument of governance. Yet this culture of unquestioning compliance was fundamentally alien to India’s civilisational ethos. Sanatan Dharma never celebrated blind obedience. It celebrated enlightened inquiry.
Dharma of the Questioner
Yet there is another aspect of this tradition that deserves equal attention. Sanatan thought never celebrated questioning for its own sake. It celebrated responsible questioning. This distinction is crucial. In today’s public discourse, questioning is often equated with disruption. Volume is mistaken for conviction, and outrage for courage. Social media frequently rewards provocation over reflection. But Sanatan civilisation drew a clear distinction between argument and inquiry.
Its heroes questioned, but they questioned with humility, discipline and an unwavering commitment to discovering truth. Arjuna questioned Krishna. But before asking, he acknowledged his own confusion.
‘कार्पण्यदोषोपहतस्वभावः…’
He admitted that he did not know the right course of action. He accepted Krishna as his guide. Then he listened patiently through eighteen chapters of dialogue before making his decision.
His questions were not intended to defeat Krishna. They were intended to understand dharma. Young Nachiketa, in the Kathopanishad, questioned Yama, the Lord of Death. Yet he did so with extraordinary restraint. He waited patiently for three nights without complaint. He refused wealth, power or worldly pleasures when they were offered in place of knowledge. His inquiry was driven neither by ego nor by spectacle, but by an earnest desire to understand the truth about life and death.
Likewise, the celebrated shastrartha between Adi Shankaracharya and Mandana Mishra remains one of the greatest intellectual encounters in world history. It was a debate governed by mutually accepted rules, evidence, logic and civility. The objective was not the humiliation of an opponent but the illumination of truth. The debate itself was adjudicated by the learned Ubhaya Bharati, symbolising that reason—not power—was the final arbiter.
Centuries before Socrates wandered through Athens employing what is now known as the Socratic Method, India had already evolved a rich tradition of philosophical dialogue through shastrartha. If Socrates taught the West to ask questions, India’s rishis demonstrated how those questions should be asked with discipline, rigour and intellectual honesty.
As Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan observed in his interpretation of the Upanishads, these texts are not collections of commandments. They are records of conversations. They preserve dialogues between seeker and teacher, king and sage, husband and wife, father and son. Knowledge emerges not through coercion but through inquiry. This dialogic tradition is the very heartbeat of Sanatan civilisation.
Krishna’s Formula for Inquiry
Perhaps nowhere is this philosophy expressed more beautifully than in the Bhagavad Gita.
तद्विद्धि प्रणिपातेन परिप्रश्नेन सेवया ।
उपदेक्ष्यन्ति ते ज्ञानं ज्ञानिनस्तत्त्वदर्शिनः ॥
—Bhagavad Gita 4.34
“Approach the wise with humility, through sincere inquiry and through service. Those who have realised the Truth will impart knowledge to you.”
This verse is often quoted, but rarely examined in its entirety. Its sequence is remarkably significant. Krishna does not begin with questioning. He begins with pranipata—humility. A seeker must first acknowledge that there is something worth learning. Only then comes pariprashna. Notice that Krishna does not merely use the word prashna (question). He uses pariprashna—deep, thoughtful, persistent and sincere inquiry. Questions are not asked to embarrass. They are asked to illuminate. Finally comes seva.
Knowledge is incomplete unless it culminates in responsible action. The Gita therefore offers not merely spiritual guidance but a complete philosophy of learning and citizenship.
Reading Gen Z Through Civilisational Lens
Seen through this framework, Gen Z becomes easier to understand. This generation has grown up in an age where every claim can be verified, every authority questioned and every institution scrutinised within seconds. Their instinct is not obedience but verification.
That is not a weakness. If anything, it reflects a return to India’s original intellectual tradition. The recent NEET protests reflect this impulse. Young citizens demanded transparency, fairness and accountability in a system that shapes millions of futures. Democracies become stronger—not weaker—when institutions are questioned honestly and held to account.
Likewise, meme-driven political expressions such as CJP illustrate how digital natives participate in public life through satire, humour and online communities rather than through conventional political platforms. Their methods may be new. Their impulse to question is not.
Yet the responsibility does not rest with institutions alone. The constitutional right to protest is fundamental. But constitutional rights also carry constitutional responsibilities.
When legitimate dissent degenerates into vandalism, intimidation or attacks on public property, as witnessed during certain demonstrations around Jantar Mantar and Parliament, the moral force of that movement inevitably weakens. Violence rarely strengthens a case that reason can make more effectively.
Public property is not the property of the government. It belongs to the people. Damaging it ultimately harms the very society that protesters seek to improve. Gen Z therefore faces an equally important challenge: not merely to ask questions, but to ask better ones; not merely to demand answers, but also to remain willing to hear them.
That requires the maturity to accept answers even when they challenge deeply held beliefs. It requires the wisdom to distinguish activism from anarchy. To distinguish conviction from performative outrage.
And to recognise that truth is seldom discovered by shouting louder than an opponent. It is more often found through patient listening, careful reasoning and an openness to being persuaded. That is the Dharma of the questioner.
Responsibility of Institutions
Bhagwat’s remarks are therefore directed not only at young people but also at those who exercise authority over them. Parents can no longer expect obedience simply because they are parents. They must explain.
Teachers can no longer rely solely on authority. They must persuade. Governments cannot simply issue directives. They must communicate with transparency, clarity and accountability.
Religious leaders cannot ask for faith without understanding. They must engage with questions rather than dismiss them. Educational institutions cannot fear scrutiny. They should welcome it, because every credible institution is strengthened—not weakened—by honest examination.
Authority in the twenty-first century will increasingly derive less from hierarchy and more from credibility. Trust must replace command and dialogue must replace monologue.
Returning to Bharat’s Civilisational Genius
India does not have to look elsewhere for a model of engaging young minds. Its own civilisation refined that tradition thousands of years ago.
From the Upanishads to the Bhagavad Gita, from Buddhist councils to Jain philosophical debates, from Mimamsa scholars to Adi Shankaracharya’s shastrarthas, India’s intellectual tradition flourished because it welcomed inquiry rather than feared it.
Swami Vivekananda repeatedly urged young Indians not to accept an idea merely because it was ancient or because it came from someone in authority. Test it through reason. Experience it. Realise it. Only then does belief mature into conviction. Faith strengthened by inquiry becomes conviction; faith demanded without understanding becomes dogma.
That is what makes Bhagwat’s observation particularly significant. If the age of blind obedience is fading, it is worth remembering that Sanatan Dharma never demanded it in the first place. It asked for something far more exacting.
प्रणिपात—the humility to learn.
परिप्रश्न—the courage to question with sincerity.
सेवा—the responsibility to act for the larger good.
This timeless triad offers guidance not only for raising children or educating students but also for shaping responsible citizens in a democratic India.
The future belongs neither to unquestioning obedience nor to reflexive rebellion. It belongs to a generation that is willing to ask difficult questions, patient enough to listen to uncomfortable answers, and wise enough to act on what it learns.
If institutions respond with honesty, transparency and accountability, and if Gen Z questions with humility, discipline and integrity, then the dialogue between Krishna and Arjuna will continue—not merely as sacred scripture, but as a living tradition that continues to shape India’s democratic culture.
Far from departing from Sanatan Dharma, today’s questioning youth may actually be rediscovering one of its oldest and most enduring values. The age of obedience may be over. The age of responsible inquiry should begin.
