Atal Bihari Vajpayee was one of independent India’s most accomplished communicators. In real life, he was taciturn, often at a loss for words in a small gathering, but he was a man transformed, whether in Parliament or while addressing a gathering of people in public meetings. He had a natural way with words, using ambiguity and the double entendre to full effect. And his long and often dramatic pauses were calculated to drive home points with devastating effect.

It is, however, an inescapable truth that as political communications were reshaped by technology, Vajpayee was more and more at sea. He may have moved an entire nation with his dramatic resignation speech in the Lok Sabha at the conclusion of his 13-day premiership in 1996 — the first occasion parliamentary proceedings were telecast live — but the truth is that he was never at ease with television. His long pauses and thoughtful delivery that worked magic before large crowds didn’t quite seem the same when he was speaking just for the cameras. Vajpayee, it would seem, never quite grasped that the electronic media demanded short, snappy and instant intentions. His style was more languid. He shunned instant reactions and preferred sleeping over an issue to instant commentary — a demand of modern communications. It is fortunate that his political career came to an end by the time social media arrived on the scene because he hated the idea of quick-fix politics.

The Bharatiya Janata Party has evolved since the time Vajpayee walked into the sunset. Its public communication skills are the envy of its political competitors, and it has acquired a reputation of unleashing a reserve army of ‘trolls’ when the occasions demanded. Despite the compulsions of being the ruling party at the Centre, the BJP has mastered the art of getting its message across instantly.

Unfortunately, had these social media skills been in evidence a fortnight or so ago, the almighty controversy over the allegedly anti-Islamic comments of its spokesperson, Nupur Sharma, would have been a minor storm in a teacup. The BJP seems to have erred on a number of counts. First, once it was clear that the spokesperson’s comments on a phase in the Prophet’s life were likely to trigger a controversy, the BJP should have got her to immediately issue a communication withdrawing her remarks and apologising for any offence. This was done subsequently, but only after it was apparent that controversy had acquired a life of its own. Second, the party should have simultaneously withdrawn her as a spokesperson for the foreseeable future. This, again, was done too late. While withdrawing her credentials as an official spokesperson may seem excessively harsh on someone who was reacting to an unending series of anti-Hindu provocations, it would have been tactically prudent for a larger objective — to prevent an ugly controversy from spilling over into street protests.

The BJP was guilty of taking its eye off the ball and being slow to respond. The prevarication was the result of the perception that Sharma hadn’t said anything that couldn’t be substantiated. Also, no one had anticipated that the anger over Sharma’s comments would escalate into a pan-Islamic issue and create diplomatic complications for India. A prompt reaction would have contained the damage substantially and, at best, confined it to the social media space.

The larger question, however, remains and is behind the outpouring of sympathy for Sharma from the broader BJP ecosystem. Throughout the course of the ongoing dispute over the Gyanvapi mosque in Varanasi and the chance discovery of an old shivling within the premises, there has been an unending spate of spiteful comments in the social media and elsewhere that were calculated to mock Hindu beliefs. Those responsible for these hurtful remarks weren’t all Muslims. A large share of the responsibility vests with those who are nominally Hindus or committed secularists. They have rebuffed attempts to censure them by falling back on constitutional provisions of free speech which — in theory, at least — includes the right to offend, but within limits. Where the proverbial lakshman rekha of free speech is situated is, of course, a matter of debate and naturally depends on the prevailing socio-political climate and the mood of the judiciary. In another country, Sharma’s observations may have, at best, raised eyebrows but no more. In India, however, they were at the centre of a political storm and included threats to the life of the former BJP spokesperson.

These sharp differences over the acceptable bounds of causing offence will, I fear, persist in India. This country is a minefield of conflicting sensitivities and a political culture of contrived protests. Even the best desire to play safe can easily come unstuck, as frequently happens with films, books and works of art. Even academic studies are not free from possible charges of hurtful conduct, as the likes of Wendy Doniger discovered. It is, therefore, no surprise that, unlike the West, India’s public universities shun the organised study of theology.

For those involved in public life, the safest course to me is to very strictly follow this evasiveness. Anything remotely theological in scope should be avoided, not least because there isn’t any last word on the subject and a multitude of conflicting versions. For example, the question of cow sacrifice and feasting on beef in ancient India has preoccupied some historians. The question also routinely features in contemporary debates on cow slaughter. To negotiate this tangle, it is best to focus on the fact that in today’s India, the cow is venerated by most Hindus. The issue of cow slaughter should proceed from that assumption and not from ancient practices.

Likewise, in debating today’s Islamist upsurge, the important thing is not to debate whether or not it has a basis in the religious texts. It is more prudent to debate its contemporary political ramifications and view it as an aspect of political conflict. That way the offence is confined to politics and doesn’t intrude into the religious space where prickliness is the norm.

The best course, needless to say, is in not being explicit on every subject. If that means bad TV, there is Vajpayee as the shining role model.