Editors’ Note: Ingrid Srinath asks what can the world’s oldest democracy and the world’s most populous democracy learn from each other about the shrinking civic space each is experiencing.

On March 10, 2025, CIVICUS – the global civil society alliance I once led – added the U.S. to its Civic Monitor Watchlist of countries where “there is a serious decline in respect for civic space.” The U.S.’s civic space is rated as ‘Narrowed,’ signifying countries where democratic freedoms are increasingly being violated. India, where I now live and work, is classified as ‘Repressed’ by the Monitor, a rating typically given to countries where civic space is heavily contested by power holders, who impose a combination of legal and practical constraints on the full enjoyment of fundamental rights. Scholars have described the U.S. as sliding towards ‘competitive authoritarianism,’ where democratically elected leaders dismantle checks on executive power. India too has been so labelled since 2014. What can the condition of the civic space of the world’s most populous democracy teach us about the threats faced by the civic space of its oldest democracy? What, if any, lessons might these parallels hold for other democracies that find themselves similarly beset?

In India, nonprofits navigate a regulatory minefield characterised by multiple laws supervised by several authorities, in turn embedded in various ministries. Together with lack of data transparency from government agencies, this permits the discrediting of nonprofits as ineffective, inefficient, corrupt and occasionally anti-national, while obstructing the articulation of a positive narrative of the sector’s contribution. Some of this is already apparent in the U.S.—for instance, with stray, sometimes misleading data being deployed to discredit USAID, other government agencies, and philanthropy.

In India, tax and other laws constrain civil society organisations’ (CSOs) ability to build resilience and autonomy. The allowance for a modest write-down in taxable income of 50% of the value of charitable contributions, up to a ceiling of Rs. 1,000,000 (about USD 12,000), coupled with a lowered tax rate if one does not claim the exemption, makes for little real tax incentive to give. Increases in the income level eligible for the ‘standard deduction’ and the lack of either a wealth tax or estate duties reduce incentives to give even further, especially for middle class givers. Historically, the tax provisions in the U.S. have been more conducive to charitable giving incentives and the definitions of public purpose more expansive. But increases in the standard deduction in the 2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act significantly reduced the proportion of taxpayers who claim the charitable deduction. And the space for civil society could shrink further with the recently proposed law that would see nonprofits lose their tax-exempt status if the Treasury Secretary deems the nonprofit has provided “material support for terrorism.”

Indeed, in India, we have seen increasing use of draconian laws against terrorism, such as the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act, that permit indefinite imprisonment without formal charges or the possibility of bail, vague definitions of crimes against the state like sedition, and allegations of money laundering or tax evasion against CSOs and activists. The mere suggestion of an allegation against a nonprofit can intimidate funders, foreign and domestic, cutting off all sources of support. Human rights defenders, journalists, even comedians, can spend years in prison without bail or being brought to trial in a system where the process itself is the punishment. The U.S. has begun to witness acts of dissent—such as public criticism of state policies, participation in protests, and support to certain causes—leading to detention, revocation of visas, and deportation. Judicial pushback against many of these cases has been swift in the U.S. In India, judicial remedies have been both slower and less consistent.

Beyond these direct constraints, civil society in India must reckon with a media landscape dominated by outlets owned by politicians and business interests closely aligned with the ruling party. Both carrots and sticks are deployed, in the form of advertising spending by state entities, access to senior leaders, and selective access to information on the one hand, and, on the other, tax raids, prosecutions for defamation, targeted harassment of journalists, as well as extra-judicial measures including trolling and violence by regime supporters. The consequences for journalists can be extreme, ranging from long jail stints before they are permitted bail or eventually exonerated, to assassination in the worst cases, often with impunity for assailants. Control of major social networks and traditional media by billionaires can have similar effects in the U.S., as might enforcing compliance by restricting access, as occurred with the White House and the Associated Press.

In India, access to reliable information is further controlled by the use of prolonged, indiscriminate internet shutdowns, and by intimidation of those who fund alternative media. Nonprofits and independent media fear that new laws on data protection and social media regulation will lead to greater self-censorship and persecution. Personal attacks against journalists by people in power and the elimination of defences against disinformation in the U.S. could also lead to self-censorship and amplification of “fake news.”

With respect to the judiciary, incentives in the form of post-retirement appointments for judges, delays in judicial appointments, and judges recusing themselves from politically contentious cases are some of the ways in which judicial independence appears to have been compromised in India. Similar outcomes have been achieved in the U.S. by packing courts with ideologically aligned judges and by replacing officials in law enforcement agencies to weaponise them against anyone deemed inimical to those in power. This is a phenomenon that has been repeatedly called out in India, where agencies like the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI), the Enforcement Directorate (ED), tax authorities and the police are deployed against opposition party politicians, nonprofits, activists, and journalists. In recent weeks, there have been hints, thankfully largely unrealised thus far, from the Trump administration of plans to similarly target certain nonprofits.

Philanthropy in India is sometimes described as being in a ‘golden age.’ Vast fortunes were garnered from privatisation of public enterprises and the ‘liberalisation’ of the economy in the early 1990s, followed by the boom in information technology and financial services, fuelling the rise of a billionaire class. All businesses above a specified size are required to expend 2% of their net income as Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) towards social impact activities in specified domains. The Indian diaspora around the world has grown more prosperous and seeks to make a dent in social issues in their homeland. Together with a rising middle class, these have resulted in rapidly growing philanthropy. However, fear of retribution by the authorities means that almost all domestic philanthropy in India avoids supporting causes that might possibly be construed as ‘political.’ Combined with constraints on international funding, this leaves areas like human rights, governance, policy research or independent media and the protection of those at the margins of society desperately under-resourced. The silence of the philanthropic community and of big business in the face of the persecution of minorities, clampdown on civil society and independent media, and erosion of democratic freedoms has been stark. U.S. philanthropy might do well to learn from the experience of their counterparts in India where withdrawal to ‘safe’ spaces has not provided any protection from attack. If philanthropy fails to resist the assault on civil society early, vigorously and in broad coalition, it will inevitably find that individual funding organisations make for easy targets. The joint public statement by over 600 U.S. foundations standing up for freedom to express themselves, give and invest freely is a very promising development.

The robustness of civil society “infrastructure” in the U.S., with civil society coalitions and civil liberties organisations joining a range of other groups in challenging executive actions against activists and nonprofits, has stood in stark contrast to the lack of similar resistance in India, where such infrastructure has been severely underinvested in.

Attacks on academic freedom have increased sharply in both countries. These range from controlling appointments at universities, modifying curricula to expunge historical facts and personalities that honour minorities, and linking incentives for funding to remaining in favour with the government. Entire domains of academic research can no longer be sustained. Academics must either seek more open jurisdictions to continue their work or alter their pursuits to fit current political trends. Here, too, the robust resistance from prominent universities in the U.S. augurs well in comparison with the abject capitulation witnessed in India.

The most severe consequences of authoritarian majoritarianism in India are borne by religious minorities subjected daily to hate crimes fuelled by conspiracy theories suggesting that the Muslim population will soon outstrip that of Hindus. Several states have passed laws seeking to control inter-religious marriage and religious conversions. Attacks on Muslims, Christians and their places of worship are routine. School curricula have expunged sections of history that are believed to portray Muslim rulers in a positive light. Roads, railway stations and cities are renamed to replace Muslim names with Hindu ones. A National Register of Citizens has been enacted that brands Muslims who fail to provide relevant documentation as infiltrators from Bangladesh or from Myanmar’s Rohingya community while providing a path to citizenship for Hindus from neighbouring countries. Muslims (as well as those from Scheduled Castes and Tribes) are woefully underrepresented in politics, legislatures, the judiciary, media and business. It seems fair to say that from discrimination, erasure from public life and spaces, bigotry and violence, to systemic state action and policies, it is “open season” on minorities and marginalised communities in India. In the U.S. too, ethnic minorities, immigrants and refugees have been described by political leaders as criminals, rapists, even as having eaten neighbourhood pets. The concerted assault on affirmative action and other policies promoting diversity, equity and inclusion has escalated rapidly there, with book bans, censorship of curricula, and officials across institutions, including the armed forces, losing their jobs.

The decline incommitments to human rights and democratic freedom in Western countries bolsters the arguments of those in India who have dismissed interventions from UN Special Rapporteurs, Amnesty, Human Rights Watch, Freedom House, V-DEM, CIVICUS, the United States Commission on International Religious Freedom (USCIRF), the International Commission of Jurists, Genocide Watch and the International Center for Nonprofit Law (ICNL), among others. The ‘West’ no longer commands the moral or the geopolitical authority it once did, given its own failures to achieve genuine equity or justice at home, and its selective condemnation of other countries that violate global norms. Any criticism of India is characterised as a violation of sovereignty or proof positive of an international conspiracy between elites in India and their ‘masters’ overseas. As the home of apostles of peace like the Buddha and Gandhi, India, it is claimed, has little to learn from the West. Global norms are positioned as vestiges of colonialism that must be replaced by indigenous, culturally rooted standards. As the world’s fastest growing large economy, a nation seen as critical to maintaining the balance of power in Asia, the leading importer of weapons after Ukraine, and an influential member of the G-20, India enjoys immunity from direct criticism by the international community. National leaders’ credibility and stature at home have been considerably elevated by the warm welcome and praise they receive from world leaders in politics, business and philanthropy, rendering it easy to cast naysayers in India and abroad as traitors and fifth columnists, further jeopardising their work, livelihoods, families, reputations and lives. The U.S.’s sanctions on the International Court of Justice, its withdrawal from UN bodies, climate agreements and the SDGs, and active vilification of international institutions will provide cover for authoritarians everywhere.

Popular movements have beena key source of hope at this time in India. From the 2023 protests against the Citizenship Amendment Act, led mainly by Muslim women, to the farmers’ year-long protest that blocked implementation of changes in agriculture policy, formal civil society organisations have been largely replaced by grassroots movements at the frontlines of resistance, as in the US, where movements from Occupy to Black Lives Matter, #Me Too and those opposing the genocide in Gaza have provided rallying points for citizen action. As civil society space is constricted, it is anti-establishment comedians, students, journalists, activists, artists and lawyers to whom we must turn to defend our rights and freedoms. Faith-based institutions can play a particularly powerful role.

In the absence of well-functioning civil society in India, many of us are unable to fathom what is happening to our basic rights and freedoms. We’re unable to voice criticism or to organise to seek accountability, transparency or redress. We cannot build or express solidarity with each other. We cannot create or strengthen media or watchdog organisations of any significant independence or scale. Our academic institutions can neither research, nor teach, nor convene on topics deemed to be inappropriate by our political leaders and their appointees. We aren’t able to incubate the innovations that created our most effective social policies from the rights to information, education, food, and work to women’s representation in governance, social protection and social justice.

These key challenges call for strong counter-narratives that further public understanding of all the vital roles that civil society plays, and outreach strategies to communicate those roles in engaging, culturally relevant ways to various target groups. Enlisting the support of key figures in the arts, popular culture, sport, comedy, business, media, technology, academia, and the faith community will be critically necessary for success. Importantly, this counter-narrative will need to go beyond pointing out the crimes and failings of the current regime to offer an alternate vision of a vibrant, pluralistic society that addresses the needs of all ethnicities and evokes pride of belonging.

The only long-term guarantee of protection for civil society actors is a strong sense of ownership from their publics. (A case in point: the massive outcry and protests that followed the cancellation of permission to the Missionaries of Charity, founded by Nobel laureate Mother Teresa, to receive foreign funding and the swift reversal of the cancellation was remarkable in comparison to the relative silence in response to thousands of cancellations of other charities’ licenses.) This, in turn, requires high levels of trust and collaboration among a diverse population of CSOs. Finding common ground to build and strengthen networks within civil society is an urgent need. So too is the need to reach across divides to bring together faith-based organisations, secular NGOs and academia, with labour and grassroots movements. While a unified, grand coalition may not be likely, complementary assets and skills, shared diagnosis of the threats, and a common vision of the direction of change would suffice to ensure that resources and strategies are broadly aligned. This is far from simple or easy. It calls for extraordinary leadership characterised by humility, trust, and the capacity to take time and bandwidth from the urgent challenges of organisational survival in tough times to dedicate them to building the civic commons for solidarity, advocacy, peer learning, access to shared services and policy advocacy. And collective resolve to, in the words of Nobel laureate Maria Ressa, hold the line.

-Ingrid Srinath

Ingrid Srinath was the Founder Director of the Centre for Social Impact and Philanthropy (CSIP) at Ashoka University, India’s first academic centre for the study of those topics. She has served as CEO of Child Rights and You (CRY), Secretary General at CIVICUS, Executive Director at CHILDLINE India, CEO at HIVOS India, and currently serves on the boards of the Resource Alliance (Board Chair), Co-impact Philanthropic Funds (Vice Chair), Majlis Law and the Bangalore Museum of Art and Photography as well as the Governing Council of the Bombay Stock Exchange’s new Social Stock Exchange. The views expressed here are entirely Ingrid’s own. They do not reflect those of any of the organisations with which she is affiliated.