THE GREAT INDIAN DEBATE — DAY 79 Is India’s patriarchy uniquely resistant to change?
THE STAKES Last month, the Supreme Court declined to criminalise marital rape, citing the "sanctity of marriage" and the risk of "misuse" of such a law. The judgment reignited a debate that has simmered for decades: why does India’s patriarchy seem so stubborn? From the Sabarimala temple entry protests to the Hathras rape case, from inheritance laws to workplace harassment, the same patterns recur—legal reforms are passed, but social change lags. Is this resistance uniquely Indian, or just a slower version of a global problem?
THE ARGUMENT FOR Those who argue that India’s patriarchy is uniquely resistant point to three stubborn realities. First, the persistence of legal loopholes: despite constitutional guarantees of equality, personal laws (governing marriage, divorce, and inheritance) remain tied to religion, often reinforcing patriarchal norms. The Uniform Civil Code debate is a case in point—progressives demand it, but resistance from religious groups (and political opportunism) keeps reform stalled.
Second, social indicators tell a grim story. India ranks 127th out of 146 countries in the Global Gender Gap Report 2023, worse than Bangladesh and Nepal. Female labour force participation has stagnated at around 20% for years, and crimes against women—from dowry deaths to acid attacks—remain alarmingly high. Even in urban, educated spaces, women face "invisible" patriarchy: the expectation to quit jobs after marriage, the unpaid labour of caregiving, the subtle policing of clothing and mobility.
Third, cultural narratives reinforce hierarchy. Mythology, cinema, and even political rhetoric often glorify "sacrificial" femininity—think of Sita’s agni-pariksha or the trope of the "ideal bahu." These stories aren’t just entertainment; they shape expectations. As sociologist Shiv Visvanathan argues, "Indian patriarchy is not just a set of practices but a moral universe where women’s compliance is framed as virtue." This makes resistance harder because questioning patriarchy isn’t just about laws—it’s about challenging a worldview.
Finally, there’s the state’s complicity. Policies like the two-finger test in rape cases or the recent push for "population control" laws targeting Muslim women reveal how institutions often uphold, rather than dismantle, patriarchal norms. If the system itself is invested in the status quo, how can change be anything but glacial?
THE ARGUMENT AGAINST The counterargument is that India’s patriarchy is not uniquely resistant—it’s just more visible. Every society grapples with gender inequality; India’s struggles are amplified by its size, diversity, and the glare of global scrutiny. For instance, the U.S. only granted women the right to vote in 1920, and marital rape wasn’t criminalised in all states until 1993. Even today, the gender pay gap persists, and reproductive rights are under attack. If patriarchy were uniquely Indian, why do Western democracies also struggle with it?
Moreover, India has made progress—just not in a linear fashion. The 2012 Nirbhaya protests led to stricter rape laws. The #MeToo movement exposed powerful men. Women like Kiran Bedi, Indra Nooyi, and Dutee Chand have broken barriers. Even in rural areas, self-help groups and microfinance initiatives have empowered women economically, challenging traditional gender roles. As economist Jayati Ghosh notes, "Change in India is uneven, but it is happening—just not at the pace urban elites demand."
Critics also point to the "cultural relativism" trap. Western feminists often judge India by their own standards, ignoring that Indian women navigate patriarchy differently. For example, the Sabarimala protests weren’t just about temple entry—they were about who gets to define tradition. Many women opposed the entry, arguing that their faith, not the state, should dictate their choices. This complicates the narrative of "resistance to change"—what if some women don’t want the change being imposed?
Finally, there’s the question of agency. India’s women are not passive victims. From the Chipko movement to the Shaheen Bagh protests, women have been at the forefront of social change. The rise of female politicians like Mamata Banerjee and Mayawati shows that patriarchy can be subverted from within. If Indian women are leading revolutions, can the system really be as rigid as it seems?
THE HIDDEN DIMENSION Most debates miss the economic underbelly of patriarchy: the unpaid labour that sustains it. Indian women perform 9.8 times more unpaid care work than men, according to the International Labour Organization. This isn’t just a cultural issue—it’s an economic one. The state benefits from this free labour, which keeps healthcare and childcare costs low. When women enter the workforce, they’re often forced to juggle paid and unpaid work, leading to burnout and lower productivity. This creates a vicious cycle: patriarchy keeps women out of the economy, and the economy relies on their unpaid labour to function.
The hidden dimension is that patriarchy isn’t just about men oppressing women—it’s about a system that depends on women’s invisible contributions. Until this labour is recognised and redistributed, legal and social reforms will only scratch the surface.
WHERE INDIANS STAND A 2022 Pew Research survey found that 55% of Indians believe men should have more rights to jobs than women when work is scarce. However, 72% also say it’s very important for women to have the same rights as men. This contradiction reflects the tension between abstract support for equality and the practical realities of a patriarchal society. In rural areas, the gap is wider: only 34% of women believe they should have equal inheritance rights, compared to 58% of men.
YOUR VIEW If Indian patriarchy is so resistant, why do some women—like those who opposed the Sabarimala entry—defend the very traditions that restrict them? What does that tell you about the limits of legal reform?
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