By Sonal Srivastava

In Indic epistemological parlance, abhava , absence, is not a mere void. It is a distinct way of examining reality through the lens of nonexistence. Take, for instance, the air inside a pot. When the pot is merely a lump of clay, air inside the pot is absent but only in a relational sense. Hence, when the Supreme Court recently observed that some mechanism, not necessarily punitive, could be devised to make voting compulsory, it raised a deeper philosophical question: Is abstention not a gentler way to express disapproval?

Abstention is a form of censure that can speak louder than words. Take for example, an elephant in the room. It’s absent yet it cannot be ignored. The dictionary meaning of the word ‘abstention’ is ‘the fact of not voting in favour of or against someone or something.’ Hence, like, abhava , abstention is not mere absence from voting; it could be many things: a silent critique of available choices, a protest against binaries, or even a philosophical refusal to reduce one’s conscience to pressing a button.

The act of choosing is inherently dualistic: civic agency must be expressed through a preference for one option over another. For a sage in Brahmn Samadhi ,this may appear futile, for he knows that ‘there is no two,’ and therefore no choice is to be made. The ultimate Truth includes play of opposites, yet one who chooses the Divine rises above dvaitavad ,the realm of dualities. Such a person, Gita says, is a Sthitaprajna –even-minded in victory and defeat, joy and sorrow, love and hate, trust and disgust.

For the spiritually inclined, voting may thus pose a dualistic proposition. It could be examined whether participation in structured dualisms compromises a nondual orientation? Or is abstention a way of remaining equanimous?

For many young citizens, political binaries may feel outdated, too simplistic to capture the complexity of their concerns. Sam Altman recently suggested that young people should not automatically defer to older generations, as the pace of technological change and AI are blurring boundaries in economic and informational spaces. Old maps no longer match the terrain. Yet the dominant political narrative in India is rife with hypernationalism, marked by exaggerated patriotism, aggressive assertion of religious identity, and hostility towards perceived ‘others’. In this framework, abstention, like the epistemological concept of abhava , is meaningful relational absence.

Nations run on engines of competing nationalisms that must harvest patriotism for fuel. “The truth is that spirit of conflict and conquest is at the origin and in centre of Western nationalism; its basis is not social co-operation,” says Rabindranath Tagore. Jacques Derrida, a French philosopher, took upon himself the task of deconstructing the nation itself. The nation is not an eternal essence; it is a narrative, a story told about common language, memory, and destiny. Jürgen Habermas wrote the Postnational Constellation suggesting a world where democracy and polity must adapt to global interdependence, moving beyond the limits of exclusive national identity.

Abhava is not a barren void but a meaningful absence: a shift in relational form. When clay becomes a pot, its configuration, function, and field of relations within which it exists change. In much the same way, postnationalism does not signal the demise of sovereign nations; it gestures towards the need for transformation. It calls for a recalibrated response to certain crises that exceed the moral and geographic limits of a nation-state.

END OF ARTICLE