Shashi Tharoor’s Our Living Constitution approaches the Constitution of India as something considerably larger than a legal text. At its heart, the book is concerned with the political and philosophical idea of India that emerged alongside the Constitution—and with the question of whether that idea continues to shape the country today.
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐☆ (4.5/5)
More Than a Book About the Constitution
Published around the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Constitution, the book combines constitutional history with political philosophy, institutional analysis and contemporary political commentary. Across nine chapters, Tharoor explores the circumstances surrounding the Constitution’s creation, the intentions of its framers, competing ideas of Indian nationhood, the functioning of constitutional institutions, amendments, judicial interpretation, civil society, Hindutva, secularism, pluralism and Centre-state relations.
The book is particularly interesting because Tharoor treats the Constitution not as a static legal document but as the principal political framework through which modern India understands itself. This approach gives the work considerable intellectual energy. At the same time, it also produces its greatest weakness: as the discussion moves away from historical constitutional questions and towards present-day political controversies, Tharoor’s own political position becomes increasingly visible.
Even so, the book remains an accessible and stimulating examination of why India’s Constitution continues to occupy such a central place in the country’s political debates.
A Democratic Experiment Born in Difficult Circumstances
Tharoor begins by returning to the turbulent period in which India’s Constitution was written. Independence did not arrive in peaceful circumstances. The country had just experienced Partition, communal violence, displacement, poverty and enormous social inequality. Yet, despite these pressures, India’s political leadership chose to establish a representative democratic system.
The Constituent Assembly completed its work on 26 November 1949, while the Constitution formally came into force on 26 January 1950. The Assembly began with 389 members and, following Partition, was reduced to 299. Its deliberations stretched over nearly three years.
For Tharoor, the remarkable achievement was not simply the production of a lengthy constitutional document. It was the decision to trust democracy at a moment when India faced almost every condition that might have encouraged a new state to adopt authoritarian rule.
This is where B. R. Ambedkar’s famous caution becomes central to Tharoor’s argument. He quotes Ambedkar’s memorable observation:
“However good a Constitution may be,” it can turn bad if those working it are “a bad lot.”
The significance of this warning extends far beyond the personalities of India’s first political generation. Tharoor uses it to distinguish between the quality of constitutional provisions and the behaviour of those entrusted with implementing them.
A country can possess sophisticated institutions and carefully designed safeguards while still experiencing democratic decline if political actors disregard constitutional conventions and principles. In that sense, the Constitution provides a framework, but its success ultimately depends upon political culture.
The Founders’ Conception of India
One of the book’s most compelling themes is its exploration of how India’s founders understood the idea of nationhood.
Tharoor challenges the assumption that a nation must possess cultural, linguistic or religious uniformity. Instead, he presents India as an experiment in civic nationhood: a country whose citizens could retain radically different identities while participating in a shared political system.
This leads to an important distinction between ethnic nationalism and civic nationalism. The former generally defines belonging through factors such as religion, ancestry, ethnicity or cultural identity. The latter bases national membership primarily upon citizenship and participation in common political institutions.
Tharoor sees the Indian Constitution as fundamentally committed to the civic model.
This interpretation also explains the importance he attaches to Ambedkar’s insistence that constitutional citizenship should take precedence over competing communal and social identities. The Constitution does not require Indians to surrender their religions, languages or cultural traditions. Instead, it seeks to prevent those characteristics from determining the legal and political rights enjoyed by citizens.
Tharoor summarizes this philosophy in an especially effective formulation:
“consensus on how to manage without consensus.”
The phrase captures one of the central paradoxes of Indian democracy. Indians do not need to agree about religion, culture, language or ideology in order to share a constitutional system. They need to accept a common framework through which those disagreements can be peacefully negotiated.
Foreign Influences and an Indian Constitutional Synthesis
Another recurring criticism of India’s Constitution is that it borrowed extensively from foreign constitutions.
Tharoor does not deny the borrowing. The parliamentary model was significantly influenced by Britain; the American Constitution contributed ideas concerning fundamental rights and judicial review; Ireland influenced the Directive Principles; Canada’s constitutional arrangements informed aspects of federalism; Weimar Germany influenced emergency provisions; and constitutional ideas were also drawn from countries including Australia, Japan and France.
But Tharoor argues that describing the Constitution as merely a collection of copied provisions misses the point.
The framers selected ideas that appeared useful and modified them to suit Indian circumstances. Ambedkar himself defended this approach:
“There is nothing to be ashamed of in borrowing.”
The distinction between borrowing and imitation is crucial. Constitutional design is not necessarily an exercise in inventing completely original institutions. Political systems frequently learn from one another. What matters is how those institutions are adapted once they enter a different historical and social environment.
In India’s case, imported constitutional ideas were combined with local political realities and the specific challenges of governing an extraordinarily diverse society.
Constitutional Rights and the Transformation of Society
Tharoor’s discussion of Fundamental Rights and Directive Principles gives the Constitution a much broader social purpose than simply establishing a mechanism for elections and government formation.
The Constitution sought to alter the social conditions inherited from colonial India. Equality, the abolition of untouchability, religious freedom, cultural rights and affirmative action are therefore not secondary features but central components of the constitutional project.
Drawing on Granville Austin, Tharoor describes the Constitution as a “social document”, emphasizing the transformative ambitions contained in Parts III and IV.
The importance of the Directive Principles is particularly well explained. Although citizens cannot ordinarily approach a court simply to demand their direct enforcement, the principles have nevertheless influenced public policy and legislation in areas including education, labour, land reform, welfare, local government and environmental protection.
Tharoor also recognizes that constitutional ideals can produce difficult political compromises. Reservations provide one example. Affirmative action was intended to address entrenched historical discrimination, yet its operation has also contributed to the continuing political salience of caste.
That contradiction illustrates a broader constitutional problem: legal equality and substantive equality are not always easily reconciled. A society attempting to overcome inherited inequalities may sometimes need unequal treatment to achieve greater equality in practice.
Why the Constitution Is “Living”
The significance of the book’s title becomes particularly apparent in its discussion of constitutional change.
Tharoor argues that the Constitution was never intended to be frozen in the circumstances of 1950. Its large number of amendments can therefore be understood not merely as evidence of instability but also as evidence of adaptability.
He describes the Constitution as a “self-generating and self-correcting entity.”
The idea is reinforced by a quotation from the Supreme Court’s M. Nagaraj judgment:
“It sets out principles for an expanding future.”
For Tharoor, these words capture the Constitution’s capacity to respond to social and technological developments that its original authors could not have predicted.
The evolution of constitutional rights demonstrates this particularly well. The understanding of liberty has expanded over time, with judicial interpretation incorporating protections such as the Right to Privacy into the broader constitutional framework.
The Basic Structure Doctrine represents perhaps the most consequential example of this evolving constitutionalism. Through Kesavananda Bharati, the Supreme Court established that Parliament’s power to amend the Constitution is not unlimited: certain fundamental characteristics of the constitutional order cannot be destroyed even through the formal amendment process.
Democracy, secularism, federalism, equality, judicial review, the rule of law and judicial independence have all been associated with the Basic Structure.
Yet this development creates its own constitutional dilemma. Judicial protection of foundational principles also gives judges considerable authority to determine what those principles actually require. Tharoor acknowledges this tension rather than presenting judicial power as entirely uncomplicated.
Parliament, the Judiciary and Civil Society
Tharoor’s examination of constitutional democracy extends beyond the formal institutions established by the Constitution. He also considers the growing role of courts, civil-society movements and public-interest litigation.
The Anna Hazare movement serves as an important case study. The campaign for a Lokpal demonstrated how sustained public mobilisation could place significant pressure on Parliament and influence the legislative agenda.
But the example raises a larger question: if courts and civil society increasingly influence public policy, does Parliament risk losing some of the authority constitutionally assigned to it?
This question becomes even more complicated in the digital age. Governments possess surveillance and data-gathering capabilities that were unimaginable when the Constitution was drafted. Consequently, constitutional protections relating to privacy and liberty must now be interpreted against technological realities that the framers could never have anticipated.
Tharoor therefore presents constitutional democracy as an ongoing institutional negotiation. Parliament, the executive, judiciary and civil society all participate in shaping the practical meaning of constitutional governance.
Hindutva and the Competing Idea of India
The book becomes considerably more politically charged when Tharoor turns to Hindutva and competing conceptions of Indian nationhood.
Chapter VII examines the intellectual position associated with Hindutva thinkers, including Deen Dayal Upadhyaya. Tharoor presents Upadhyaya’s objections to the Constitution as extending beyond technical questions of drafting. They reflected a deeper disagreement with the document’s Western influences, its federal structure and its secular understanding of citizenship.
At the centre of this alternative conception is the idea of India as a civilizational and cultural Hindu nation.
Tharoor’s discussion of chiti, which Upadhyaya understood as a nation’s “soul power,” is particularly noteworthy. He explains Upadhyaya’s analogy involving a barber’s razor: the handle and blade may change while the object nevertheless retains its essential identity.
For Tharoor, the significance of this debate lies in its depth. The disagreement is ultimately not only about individual constitutional clauses. It concerns two different answers to a much larger question: what constitutes India’s national identity?
This makes the chapter intellectually important, although it is also one of the clearest points at which Tharoor’s own political commitments influence his interpretation.
Secularism, Pluralism and Equal Citizenship
The discussion of secularism is among the most politically significant sections of the book.
Tharoor argues that the constitutional conception of Indian citizenship was deliberately designed not to make religious identity the basis of political membership. He examines debates within the Constituent Assembly and contrasts the adopted constitutional framework with proposals that would have assigned citizenship a more explicitly religious character.
Importantly, Tharoor does not portray Indian secularism simply as the exclusion of religion from public life. Instead, he understands it as a framework in which the state is expected to maintain an equitable relationship with different religious communities.
He writes:
“What we should be talking about is ‘pluralism’.”
This formulation captures Tharoor’s broader argument that India’s secular tradition has historically involved accommodating religious diversity rather than rigidly separating religion from the state in the manner associated with some Western constitutional systems.
The discussion of the Citizenship Amendment Act, the inclusion of the word “secular” in the Preamble and the debate over a Uniform Civil Code naturally brings the author into contemporary political territory.
Tharoor is clearly concerned that majoritarian politics could undermine equal citizenship. Nevertheless, his treatment of the Uniform Civil Code is comparatively nuanced. He recognizes the argument that common laws could promote equality, particularly for women, while also considering questions involving minority rights, cultural autonomy and privacy.
Federalism and the Balance Between Centre and States
The book’s final substantive discussion focuses on federalism.
India’s constitutional structure gives substantial authority to the Union government. Tharoor characterizes the arrangement as quasi-federal, pointing to the strength of the Centre, Article 356, emergency powers, fiscal relationships, the role of Governors and the division of legislative authority.
He then considers several contemporary disputes, including Article 370, GST, state finances and the political role of Governors.
The underlying concern is straightforward: how much centralization can India’s constitutional system accommodate before the balance between the Union and the states begins to suffer?
An especially significant observation is that federalism has come to be regarded as part of the Constitution’s Basic Structure, even though the Constitution itself does not explicitly describe India as “federal” in those terms.
Tharoor’s broader conclusion is that India’s extraordinary diversity requires meaningful decentralization. Political unity, he suggests, should not be confused with uniformity imposed from the centre.
What the Book Does Well—and Where It Falls Short
The most obvious strength of Our Living Constitution is its readability.
Constitutional law can easily become inaccessible to general readers, but Tharoor consistently connects abstract principles to historical events, political controversies and institutional developments. Concepts such as federalism, judicial review, Fundamental Rights, Directive Principles and the Basic Structure Doctrine are explained without assuming specialist legal knowledge.
Another major strength is the author’s extensive use of the words and ideas of constitutional thinkers themselves. The presence of Ambedkar, Nehru, Gandhi and others ensures that the book does not become entirely dependent upon Tharoor’s own interpretation.
The principal limitation, however, is the political imbalance of the later chapters.
When Tharoor is discussing the Constitution’s origins and institutional architecture, his presentation is generally measured. Once the discussion turns to Hindutva, the BJP, secularism and contemporary centralization, his analysis becomes considerably more argumentative.
Readers who already share Tharoor’s understanding of civic nationalism are likely to find these sections persuasive. Those approaching the subjects from a different ideological position may find that alternative interpretations receive insufficient weight.
This does not diminish the book’s usefulness. If anything, it means that readers should approach its political arguments critically rather than treating them as neutral constitutional history.
Conclusion: Keeping the Constitution Alive
Ultimately, Our Living Constitution is concerned with a question that goes beyond constitutional text: Can India’s democratic system remain faithful to constitutional principles if those responsible for running its institutions no longer respect those principles?
Tharoor’s assessment is simultaneously critical and hopeful. He is deeply concerned about the direction of contemporary politics, but he remains confident that the constitutional framework itself possesses the resilience required to adapt.
The Constitution has survived enormous changes since 1950. Linguistic reorganization, affirmative action, social legislation, new interpretations of rights and changing political circumstances have all altered the way the document operates. Its capacity to accommodate such developments is, for Tharoor, evidence of its strength.
But adaptability alone cannot preserve constitutional democracy. Institutions require political actors willing to respect their limits and conventions.
The book consequently returns to Ambedkar’s warning about those who “work” the Constitution. Tharoor identifies executive concentration, declining parliamentary scrutiny, institutional dependence, communal polarization and centralization as significant pressures on the constitutional order.
Yet his argument is ultimately not one of constitutional defeat.
Rather, it is a call for constitutional vigilance.
Tharoor notes that the Constitution has undergone “106 amendments” while retaining its fundamental character. For him, this capacity to change without losing its essential identity demonstrates why the Constitution should be regarded as resilient rather than rigid.
His prescription is consequently centred on stronger accountability, meaningful federalism and institutional safeguards capable of checking excessive executive authority.
The lasting value of Our Living Constitution lies in precisely this approach. It does not treat the Constitution as something confined to courtrooms, law books or government offices. Instead, it presents constitutionalism as a continuing political contest over the meaning of India itself.
Our Living Constitution is an intelligent, accessible and engaging exploration of India’s constitutional development. Its historical sections are particularly effective, while its explanations of complex constitutional concepts make the book approachable even for readers without a legal background. The extensive use of Ambedkar and other founding voices further strengthens the narrative.
The deduction of half a star comes primarily from the increasingly partisan character of the political analysis in the later chapters. Some readers may find Tharoor’s treatment of contemporary ideological disputes insufficiently balanced.
Nevertheless, the book remains valuable precisely because it encourages disagreement and discussion. Even readers who reject some of Tharoor’s political conclusions are likely to find themselves thinking more carefully about the constitutional principles underlying those disagreements.
Most importantly, the book succeeds in transforming the Constitution from something that can appear distant and legalistic into an ongoing political and social conversation. For anyone interested in Indian democracy, constitutional history, secularism, federalism or competing visions of Indian nationhood, Our Living Constitution is well worth reading.