Secular Ads: Love In The Time Of Hate Politics

In 2008, Big Bazaar released a cultural campaign themed Make India Beautiful. One of its ad films on Ramzan, which has once again been doing the rounds on social media, featured a Muslim surgeon who saves a Hindu patient and is embraced by the grateful family who awkwardly serves up an iftar for her. The sign off was “Neki Mubarak”. The ad did not announce itself as a secular statement, but coexistence was woven in the most ordinary, yet serendipitous way. That ordinariness, however, has become complicated in the divided India of 2026.

When the Surf Excel Holi campaign (2018) showed a Hindu girl deliberately getting drenched in colour so her Muslim friend could reach the mosque clean, it was conceived as a story about childhood empathy. Instead, it became a lightning rod and faced major pushback and Arun Iyer, who helmed the campaign, was at the receiving end of many threats across platforms. “It was scary, to say the least. The ad was just an extension of the feel-good factor of the brand, which embodied “daag achhe hain” (stains are fine) as its core proposition since 2005”, says Iyer, Founder and Creative Partner, Spring Capital.

Pluralism is not new to advertising. What is new is the scrutiny. There was a period when purpose-led branding was not just fashionable but institutionally encouraged. Advertising veteran Hanoz Mogrelia, who has held senior leadership roles at Mudra and JWT, and is now the creative head at BelieveTrinity, reminds us of a time when every other brand had a social messaging. He recalls the term “Causevertising” which was used by the ad industry, which formed the backbone of many campaigns for brands such as Surf Excel, Fabindia, CEAT tyres, Havells, Tanishq and more. Some labelled it pseudo-secularism; others wondered why Indian advertising was suddenly ‘woke’ during this phase.

Lowe (the agency for Unilever and the Surf Excel campaign) started the trend of brand causes, spearheaded by the then head of Unilever, Paul Polman. He believed that every brand must have a cause but the new head has quickly given up on that goal. Iyer too does not believe that every brand has to be cause-led, “else we tend to force-fit messaging,” he says, pointing to the ad for Goel TMT bars,  where a father (Gajraj Rao) brings back his daughter from an abusive marriage amid much fanfare. It is hardly plausible that people associated the messaging of “Support is Strength” with the product and one wonders if TMT sold more bars as a result of the ad.

In 2020, a Tanishq film, portraying a Hindu bride’s baby shower in a Muslim household, was labelled “love jihad”, leading to a vicious hate campaign and vandalisation of several stores. Ironically, the jewellery line was called Ekatvam, which in Hindi means unity.

The same year, Tanishq released a celebrity-led Diwali campaign Jashn e Diwali, promoting a cracker-free celebration featuring Neena Gupta, Nimrat Kaur, Sayani Gupta, etc. Critics accused it of diluting tradition. Obviously, there was a thin line between being inclusive and being incendiary. None of these films were manifestos. Yet they triggered debates far beyond their runtime. Tanishq eventually withdrew both ads. Advertising, once assumed to be a soft cultural force, suddenly found itself at the centre of ideological scrutiny.

“In these divisive times, being a cause is not enough – you have to be able to walk the talk. And how many brands care to do that?”, asks Mogrelia. “There was a time when festivals were about wishes, and now they are commercial pegs for a brand; you have a Mc Donald’s with a Ramzan menu or a Theobroma selling firni , or a Smart Bazar Genie dressing for the occasion on Christmas or Diwali, but ultimately, advertising has a business objective. If a campaign boosts sales, it makes sense,” says Mogrelia who believes that for an advertiser, the commercial question remains unavoidable.

In 2008, when Big Bazaar was trying to  Make India Beautiful, we had the Jaago Re campaign from Tata Tea, representing a civic movement,  a phenomenon of a nation woken up, unified by tea, "but the tea was central to the campaign," Mogrelia reminsces. And perhaps that clarity of intent insulated it. Today, suspicion arises when purpose appears detached from product - or when virality becomes the primary metric of success.

 “I am not sure if Tanishq sold more jewellery or Surf sold more detergent as a result of their ‘secular’ campaigns that went viral. There is no correlation between virality and sales; besides, such tokenism can badly backfire – look at how the sales people at Tanishq were trying not to get their stores vandalised,” he reminds us. 

He observes that in this age of social media, everyone is a liberal. “So while you look at a Tanishq ad , sigh and say “cute and nice,” you never know if someone in the Tanishq factory has been denied his break because he is Muslim.”

While promotion of secularism has to rely on commercials far and few, those opposing it have 24x7 access to the internet and TV media. Which returns us to the larger unease: Does every brand need a cause? What responsibility does a brand bear when storytelling deals with sensitive issues? Where does purpose-driven advertising end and political commentary begin? “Walking the talk” also points to a deeper anxiety. Audiences increasingly interrogate not just the message but the messenger. Most of the time, we are not a secular nation; we are just pretending to be one. Mogrelia also finds it problematic when clients use such ‘secular’ campaigns and their sure shot virality to flex on social media (the modern equivalent of cocktail party conversation).

Sneha Iype, executive producer and partner at Nirvana Films points to the commercial reality that underpins every creative decision:

“The way I see it - Brands sell products. A lot is riding on communication, in financial terms and so most brands keep communication sanitized and steer clear of any disruptive standpoint. What is shown is mostly, if at all, implied.

That does not mean social themes have vanished. Rather, they have shifted register. Instead of foregrounding communal harmony explicitly, Iype believes that many brands embed their messaging within broader ideas of kindness or fairness.

 “Even when addressing representation, the pivot is toward lifestyle and personal freedom rather than religious difference,” she adds, pointing to their Vinsmera jewellery ad with Mohanlal. “We were able to address the stereotype of jewellery being a commodity used by any gender for personal pleasure and not necessarily any occasion,” she says. Progress in advertising, Iype suggests, has often been gradual  - an evolution in how women, families and identities are depicted. “We have moved slowly in ways we depict housewives and so on. But that’s par for the course.

What has accelerated, however, she points out, is the velocity of reaction. “Social media has collapsed the distance between release and response, turning every campaign into a live referendum. We live in a time where the rhetoric is polarised and sensitivity runs high and opinions are democratised more than ever before. Clients are hyper aware of any unwarranted step that could antagonise any one group of individuals.

The movement here is telling. The emphasis is on universal vulnerability rather than specific fault lines. It is easier to gather consensus around anti-bullying than around interfaith intimacy, Iype believes.

The sanitisation is not just creative; it is strategic. Brands today are not merely storytellers but publicly traded entities accountable to shareholders, distributors and franchisees across regions with sharply divergent sentiments, she points out. The sentiment is shared by Iyer who adds, “In recent times, there has been an unpredictability of responses, and so a tendency to play it safe in brand advertising. We don’t want to stoke any sensitive areas; it’s a complicated media landscape right now and there are too many echo chambers, although there is still some work that is awakening public consciousness.”

The shift is subtle but significant: harmony has moved from background texture to contested foreground. Because we know now that outrage travels faster than any media buy, so even coexistence is now a quiet gesture. But even that is brave in these times.

Once in a while there is a Mothertonguelish – a recent campaign for Axis bank that makes room for every Indian accent of English, or a Cadbury’s ad which has a Tamil woman at the centre of a group of Hindi speaking women in the north who is unapologetic about “My Hindi thoda thoda”. These are few but far between - still cute, but safe, sanitised.  But, like Iype reminds us, “The word “sanitised” suggests not cowardice but caution. A thirty-second film represents crores in media spending, months of preparation, and the livelihoods of teams across production and distribution. In that ecosystem, even unintended controversy carries consequences.”

We have become that kind of nation. So has our advertising.