If Breathing in Delhi is Not a Right, What Does Dignity Even Mean?
If a citizen cannot breathe safely in the capital city of the world’s largest democracy, what does that say about the state of our democracy itself? This is the question that Delhi forces upon us each winter, when the air turns abrasive and the horizon dissolves into a grainy, toxic blur. We deem this as seasonal, inevitable, and even cultural. But is it natural for a state to allow its citizens to inhale poison? And more importantly, what does it reveal about the place of dignity in India’s constitutional imagination?
Our constitution does not treat dignity as a flower-pot decoration. It is embedded in Article 21, consolidated by judgments that ‘the right to life means the right to live in conditions that honour the human spirit’ i.e. the conditions that allow people to grow, work, breathe and aspire without fear. In a growing nation that takes pride in ambition, economic rise, and global visibility, dignity must be understood not as charity but as an entitlement. Yet Delhi’s air tells a different story: a story of how dignity is quietly negotiated away. Why has breathing, an act that precedes every right in a democracy become the first right to be compromised?
The truth, if we follow the historical trail, is that this crisis did not creep up on us. It was engineered through choices. Is Delhi choking because winter arrives? Or because leadership repeatedly chose convenience over caution, industry over health, and spectacle over science? The Centre for Science and Environment has documented this journey in unsettling detail: from the “black smog” of the 1990s to the long battle for clean fuels, to the brief relief brought by the CNG transition, and finally to the slow erosion of every gain as diesel vehicles surged, construction sprawled unchecked and public transport fell behind demand. The city’s air did not become toxic in a single moment; it became toxic through a chain of decisions that consistently placed citizens last.
Also read: Delhi is Suffocating. So Is Its Political Consciousness.
If these warnings were known, why did governance fail to act with urgency? To answer that, we must step beyond Delhi and examine the national political climate that shapes environmental regulation today. Since the rise of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) as the central pole of Indian politics, the party has showcased a particular developmental ethos, one that celebrates speed, a scale and infrastructure, but often treats environmental safeguards as dispensable. One that treats freebies more than delivering out actual social justice. Does a political culture that views ecological caution as an impediment to growth have the appetite to treat clean air as a right?
Consider the pattern we have witnessed in states where the BJP has held power. In Goa, the controversies over mining leases revealed how corporate interests found comfort in state decisions. In Jharkhand, illegal mining and ecological degradation expanded with little sustained corrective action. In Assam, development around sensitive ecosystems like Kaziranga raised serious alarms among conservationists. These cases matter because they reflect a governance attitude, not isolated missteps. If we think of this pattern of environmental responsibility being treated as negotiable at the national level, why would Delhi, whose pollution crisis demands consistent political will, receive anything different?
So, the next question emerges naturally: Are Delhi’s worsening skies the result of scientific uncertainty, or political indifference? Every major study today makes the same fundamental point: a large part of Delhi’s PM2.5 load comes from local sources: construction dust, vehicle emissions, industrial burning, waste fires. None of these require state governments to wait for winter or for neighbouring states to act. Yet the response remains episodic, symbolic, and timed with headlines. What we see instead of policy is performance: emergency bans, odd-even schemes, temporary advisories, deflective blame. Is this how a state treats a crisis that affects the lungs of millions?
At the heart of the issue lies leadership. Does leadership shape the air we breathe? History suggests yes. When Delhi’s transport fleet switched to CNG under firm judicial supervision, the air improved. When regulations tightened on trucks and fuel quality, gains followed. But when leadership grew distracted, complacent, or preoccupied with political theatrics, pollution surged back. There has never been a mystery around what needs to be done, only a reluctance to do it consistently, publicly and without worrying about who might be inconvenienced.
Also read: Vehicular Pollution Is Now The Main Cause of Delhi’s Poor Air Quality
This raises the sharpest question of all: If a government cannot protect something as fundamental as the air, what claim can it make to protecting dignity? Delhi’s crisis is not anti-government rhetoric; it is a pro-citizen warning. A country cannot aspire to global leadership while allowing its capital to remain unbreathable. No economic ambition can justify a child growing up with stunted lungs. No political slogan can mask the fact that millions inhale air far more hazardous than global health norms.
The bigger picture reveals itself only when we place all these questions together. What does Delhi’s air tell us about governance? That leadership matters more than weather. Why has the crisis persisted? Because political will has remained seasonal. What does this mean for citizens? That their dignity has been treated as optional. And finally, what must change? India needs a politics that treats clean air not as a winter ritual, but as a non-negotiable right.
The conclusion, then, is straightforward: if breathing safely in the national capital is not guaranteed, dignity in India remains incomplete. The solutions exist, the science is ready, and the public is exhausted. What is missing is the courage to place citizens before corporations, health before optics and dignity before development-as-spectacle. Until that courage arrives, Delhi will continue asking the same unforgiving question each winter: What is dignity worth in a democracy where even the air refuses to sustain life?
Nirmanyu Chouhan is a researcher of politics and society.
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