A Hunger Strike Needs More Than an Audience: Sonam Wangchuk

Today, Sonam Wangchuk is on the nineteenth day of an indefinite hunger strike.

Nineteen days without food.

It is easy to read that sentence, feel disturbed for a few moments, and then continue scrolling. But pause and genuinely consider what it means for a human being to put his own body on the line because every other way of being heard appears to have failed.

Wangchuk began his fast on 28 June at Jantar Mantar in Delhi, standing in solidarity with students demanding accountability over examination irregularities and paper leaks. The protest is calling for reform of India’s examination system and for Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan to accept political responsibility.

Meanwhile, Wangchuk’s health is deteriorating. He has reportedly lost more than eight kilograms and is physically becoming weaker.

What makes this even more powerful is who Sonam Wangchuk is.

He is not someone who suddenly discovered activism because it was fashionable or politically convenient. He has spent decades working in education, sustainability and community development in Ladakh. He has created educational opportunities for young people failed by conventional systems and developed practical environmental solutions, including the famous ice stupas that help communities store water.

How many of us could do what he is doing?

Most of us struggle to give up a meal, a comfort or even a few hours of our time for something we claim to believe in. Wangchuk has repeatedly placed his health and comfort behind his convictions. Whatever one’s political position, that level of commitment deserves respect.

Arundhati Roy once observed that the Gandhian ethos requires an audience.

This is worth thinking about in the context of British rule in India. Gandhi’s methods of non-violent resistance worked partly because the British government had to consider how its actions were being viewed, both in Britain and across the world. The injustice needed to be witnessed. The moral contradiction between British claims of civilisation and the violence of colonial rule had to be exposed before an audience.

But I would add something to Roy’s observation:

The Gandhian ethos does not merely require an audience. It requires an audience with a conscience.

An audience can watch suffering and move on. It can turn a hunger strike into another headline, photograph or social-media post. A conscientious audience understands that witnessing suffering creates responsibility.

This is what worries me about India today.

Those in power may believe they can simply wait Wangchuk out until public attention moves elsewhere. The government may not care enough about one man refusing food. But it will care if people across the country come together, raise their voices and make it clear that his suffering cannot be ignored.

Governments may not fear one person fasting. They fear what happens when individual courage becomes collective consciousness.

That is why speaking about Sonam Wangchuk matters. Not because we want him to become a martyr. We need him alive. His country, his students and the causes he has spent his life supporting need him alive.

He has already done more than any person should have to do to make himself heard. The responsibility cannot remain only on his weakening body.

It now belongs to us.

Will we watch, feel briefly uncomfortable and move on?

Or are we the conscientious audience that Gandhian protest requires?