For a country living in a state of emergency, India seemed surprisingly normal last week. Shops remained open and crowds thronged the streets; trading continued on the stock exchanges and schools held classes; even the trains ran more or less on schedule. Indeed, for most of India's 600 million citizens, it apparently was business as usual. If anything, life in New Delhi seemed more orderly than ever: the typically mad swirl of traffic was restrained, and queues for buses were models of decorum.
State of Emergency. Despite the surface calm, however, reported TIME Correspondent William Stewart from New Delhi, there was no question that India and its imperious Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi, were struggling through a political crisis that would profoundly affect the country's future. The state of emergency, proclaimed on June 26 at Mrs. Gandhi's behest, had suspended political freedoms and given her near dictatorial powers. Banned were 26 minor political factions representing the most extreme leftist and rightist movements. More than 1,000 political dissidents—of all ideological shadings—already have been jailed, uninformed of the charges against them and with no hope for a speedy trial. Though their names have not been made public, government spokesmen admit privately that the prisoners include many leaders of India's opposition parties, as well as elder statesman Jayaprakash Narayan, 72, an associate of India's pacifist father-figure Mohandas Gandhi (see box following page).
Strict censorship has prevented the once lively Indian press (some 830 daily newspapers) from printing anything other than official handouts about the crisis. Government proscriptions against "unauthorized, irresponsible or demoralizing news items" last week were extended from articles and editorials to cartoons, photos and even advertisements. This further muzzling of the press may have been in response to a few cases of surreptitious sniping at the government's measures; in Kerala, for example, one paper ran a cartoon depicting Mrs. Gandhi dressed as Louis XIV with a caption reading "I am India." The censors also closely monitored the dispatches of foreign newsmen. Last week the government summarily expelled Washington Post Correspondent Lewis M. Simons, who had stirred official ire by reporting that the army did not solidly back Mrs. Gandhi.
Although it shocked world opinion, Mrs. Gandhi's suspension of civil liberties was technically within the bounds of India's constitution. Last week she defended her actions in a series of radio addresses and speeches. Instead of apologizing for suspending political rights, she emphasized that some authoritarianism was needed to thwart "a deep-rooted conspiracy" that would have "led to economic chaos and collapse," making India "vulnerable to fissiparous tendencies and external danger."
Using the kind of argument that has always been favored by dictators seeking to justify their abrogation of political processes, Mrs. Gandhi declared: "In India, democracy has given too much freedom to people." Newspapers and opposition politicians, she added, "were trying to misuse [democracy] and weaken the nation's conscience."