Chennai, Aug 24:
The controversy over a viral video involving a woman who was mistakenly identified as Industries Minister S Keerthana has quickly moved beyond a question of identity, opening a larger debate on the increasingly personal and often misogynistic nature of political discourse on social media.
Keerthana’s response was significant not merely because she clarified that the woman in the video was not her, but because she questioned the premise of the controversy itself: Why should it matter even if it were her?
That question cuts to the heart of the issue.
In an era when political battles are increasingly fought on social media, photographs, videos and personal moments have become ammunition. The distinction between legitimate political scrutiny and intrusion into private life is often deliberately blurred. Women in public life, in particular, frequently find themselves subjected to a different standard of judgment — over their clothes, appearance, friendships, expressions and even their happiness.
Keerthana’s decision to frame the episode as an example of misogyny therefore takes the controversy into a broader political and social space. Her argument is that when opponents cannot challenge a politician on governance, policy or performance, there is a temptation to turn the spotlight towards the individual’s personal life.
That is not unique to one party or one political ecosystem. Social media politics has created an environment where outrage travels faster than verification and insinuation often gains more traction than facts.
The episode also highlights another troubling feature of digital political campaigns: identity can become secondary to the narrative. Once a person is labelled as a politician or linked to a political figure, the content is consumed through that political lens, even before its authenticity is established.
The woman who was wrongly dragged into the controversy becomes perhaps the most unfortunate figure in this episode. She had no role in the political contest, yet found herself subjected to public attention and abuse. Keerthana’s apology to her — coupled with the remark that she should continue living on her own terms — was an attempt to restore the human dimension that was lost amid the political noise.
TRB Rajaa’s intervention added another important layer. His warning against the familiar argument of “they did it, so we did it too” is particularly relevant to today’s social media politics. Political parties often operate in an environment of retaliatory campaigning, where one side’s excesses become the justification for another’s.
But political competition cannot function on that principle indefinitely.
If an abusive tactic is wrong when used against one political camp, it does not become acceptable when directed at another. Nor can the political identity of the target determine whether personal attacks are considered legitimate.
Rajaa’s assertion that political rivalry cannot justify abuse or misogynistic attacks also places a responsibility on party organisations and their supporters. Social media campaigns may begin with individual posts, but once amplified by organised political networks, they can quickly acquire the appearance of an official campaign.
That is where political parties need to draw clear boundaries.
There is nothing improper about questioning a minister’s decisions, policies, administration or performance. Public figures are accountable, and political criticism is an essential part of democracy. But a photograph or video from someone’s personal life cannot automatically become legitimate political material simply because the person is a politician.
The larger lesson from the Keerthana controversy is therefore not about who appeared in the video.
It is about why a woman’s appearance or personal life is considered politically relevant in the first place.
As social media becomes an increasingly powerful political battleground, the ability to verify before sharing, criticise without humiliating and distinguish public accountability from private intrusion will become increasingly important.
The episode is a reminder that political discourse can become fiercely competitive without becoming personally degrading. Democracy requires strong opposition and robust criticism. It does not require the humiliation of individuals — particularly women — to make a political point.