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Why the Poor Don't Kill Us
In this searing and darkly hilarious diagnosis of contemporary society, acclaimed Indian writer Manu Joseph explores why the poor don’t rise in revolt against the rich despite living in one of the most unequal regions of the world.
The poor know how much we spend in a single day, on a single meal, the price of Atlantic salmon and avocados. “Why,” he asks, “do they tolerate it? Why don’t they crawl out from their catastrophes and finish us off? Why don’t little men emerge from manholes and attack the cars? Why don’t the maids, who squat like frogs beside kitchen sinks, pull out the hair of their conscientious madams who never give them a day off? Why is there peace?”
Why the Poor Don’t Kill Us lays bare, with pitiless precision, the absurd, obvious and counter-intuitive reasons why we are safe. So far. It is a fragile peace, and we need to understand how it has come to be.
Manu Joseph is a former columnist for the New York Times. He is also a novelist and screenwriter. He is the author of the novels Serious Men, The Illicit Happiness of Other People, and Miss Laila, Armed and Dangerous. He is the winner of the Hindu Literary Prize and the PEN Open Book Award, whose jury described him as ‘…that rare bird who can wildly entertain the reader as forcefully as he moves them’. He has been nominated for several other prizes. He is also the creator of the Netflix series, Decoupled. This is his first “non-fiction”.
The poor know how much we spend in a single day, on a single meal, the price of Atlantic salmon and avocados. “Why,” he asks, “do they tolerate it? Why don’t they crawl out from their catastrophes and finish us off? Why don’t little men emerge from manholes and attack the cars? Why don’t the maids, who squat like frogs beside kitchen sinks, pull out the hair of their conscientious madams who never give them a day off? Why is there peace?”
Why the Poor Don’t Kill Us lays bare, with pitiless precision, the absurd, obvious and counter-intuitive reasons why we are safe. So far. It is a fragile peace, and we need to understand how it has come to be.
Manu Joseph is a former columnist for the New York Times. He is also a novelist and screenwriter. He is the author of the novels Serious Men, The Illicit Happiness of Other People, and Miss Laila, Armed and Dangerous. He is the winner of the Hindu Literary Prize and the PEN Open Book Award, whose jury described him as ‘…that rare bird who can wildly entertain the reader as forcefully as he moves them’. He has been nominated for several other prizes. He is also the creator of the Netflix series, Decoupled. This is his first “non-fiction”.
238 pages, Kindle Edition
Published August 5, 2025
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November 10, 2025
Bravo! A truly great achievement from my favorite and coolest Indian writer. Just to prove how cool Manu Joseph is, let me tell you about an online exchange he had with a Hindu nationalist on Twitter/X. The Hindu nationalist who was offended by something Manu said on Twitter (I forget what) called him a rice bag (a slur for Indian Christians. The slur is an accusation that Indian Christians converted to Christianity from Hinduism for a bag of rice). Manu, who is into jogging and fitness, responded in an article by saying "I am offended by this high-carb insult; I would rather be accused of renouncing my religion for a bag of avocados, or even asparagus".
HAHAHAHHA! If someone addressed me with a religious slur, I doubt whether I could come up with something so clever. Now Manu is no bleeding heart liberal. In fact, Indian liberals despise him on account of an article he wrote, in which he called them amateur Indians, right after Narendra Modi, a Hindu nationalist came to power in 2014. That article is a part of this book.
I wonder whether Manu would translate this book into regional Indian languages. That would be truly dangerous because the poor who like to read in their mother tongues would realize how they are being conned. This book is bound to piss off many activist Indians because Manu puts them down with such hilarious and at times subtle lines. This book is so many things. A foreign spy/mercenary aiming to fuck things up in India could use this as a bible. In a way, this book may also be named "How the Rich Can Escape a Violent Revolution". There's something in this for everyone. A manifesto for everyone. Especially the poor. But can also be used by rich upper-middle class charlatans like me to keep the poor oppressed. So it is a dangerous book in many ways.
Manu starts off by trying to separate the Indian poor from the rest of the world. He says India's poor are different from the rest of the world because they are poor in one of the most unequal regions of the world. There is wealth and luxury all around India's poor. The first chapter contains some of Manu's strange experiences while covering an earthquake as a journalist. The book's title is not tongue in cheek in anyway. Manu really wonders why India's poor do not rise up in a violent revolution. He proceeds to examine why they dont.
He says the ugliness of Indian cities and its squalor reassures the poor that the country still belongs to them. This is not just a book about India's poor. It is about the Indian psychology. How the Indian mind works and how we look at the world and each other.
Indian politicians protect the rich from the poor. Manu narrates an incident in which a village in India was ravaged by leopard attacks. Many villagers lost their lives. The villagers demanded the leopard be killed. Journalists, activists and even branches of the Indian government prevented this. It was only the local politicians who spoke for the poor. Manu uses examples of Jayalalita and Karunanidhi, Tamil politicians who gave away freebies like television sets and even ounces of gold to the poor to illustrate this point. Politicians calm down and reassure the poor in India.
The poor have been conned into believing that education will save them. Not good at studying? Then maybe its their own fault is what the poor have been convinced by India's elites. Manu wants the college degree as a qualification for non-technical and non-scientific jobs to end. He considers his own literature degree to be a complete waste of time. In an interview I watched last week in which he promoted this book, he says during college his sister sent him synopsis of Shakespeare's plays which he couldn't bear to read.
There are dark forces that protect the rich from the poor. The poor fears Indian law enforcement agencies - the dreary courtrooms, dreadful jails and encounter killings which is another important reason why they do not revolt. Unlike the Western world, there is no compassion for the rioters and gangsters in India. This is why despite its inequalities, many Indian cities are safer than ones in the Western world. But Manu wonders for how much longer Indian law enforcement can continue to be so brutal.
The dismantling of "amateur Indians", a phrase coined by Manu to describe English speaking and sometimes old rich middle class Indians who feel lost in the new India where the street smart villager Indian now calls the shots is one of the books highlights. Manu is merciless with them. He says many of them hide out in colleges and activism to escape adult life. It has become expensive to escape from the other India. The other India is encroaching into the once safe islands where the amateur Indians used to live. There isn't much they can do about it.
The chapter called "Let the Poor Have Fun" in which Manu describes how a bunch of Indian activists convinced the Indian government to stop Facebook's free basics free internet for India's poor really convinced me about how well meaning activists might actually harm the poor. Maybe the poor just want to watch free porn and use the internet for entertainment. They do not care whether Facebook might favor some websites and platforms over the other which was the argument used by these activists to block Facebook's free internet for India's poor.
The profiles of Nandan Nilekani and an unnamed patriarch of a Malayali Christian family who runs a gold pawning institution (I suspect this is the Muthoot family) are excellent. Manu believes entrepreneurs and billionaires are underrated rescuers of the poor and are more effective than incompetent empathetic do-gooders and pompous activists.
There are many more interesting and original observations, anecdotes and advice to the upper middle class. Even though it is easy to read and only 266 pages long, you feel like you have read a sprawling work. There is so much to appreciate. This book is as interesting and important as Naipaul's India trilogy. And more entertaining than those books which predicted India's rise. Once again, bravo Manu Joseph. I will read this book again and again.
HAHAHAHHA! If someone addressed me with a religious slur, I doubt whether I could come up with something so clever. Now Manu is no bleeding heart liberal. In fact, Indian liberals despise him on account of an article he wrote, in which he called them amateur Indians, right after Narendra Modi, a Hindu nationalist came to power in 2014. That article is a part of this book.
I wonder whether Manu would translate this book into regional Indian languages. That would be truly dangerous because the poor who like to read in their mother tongues would realize how they are being conned. This book is bound to piss off many activist Indians because Manu puts them down with such hilarious and at times subtle lines. This book is so many things. A foreign spy/mercenary aiming to fuck things up in India could use this as a bible. In a way, this book may also be named "How the Rich Can Escape a Violent Revolution". There's something in this for everyone. A manifesto for everyone. Especially the poor. But can also be used by rich upper-middle class charlatans like me to keep the poor oppressed. So it is a dangerous book in many ways.
Manu starts off by trying to separate the Indian poor from the rest of the world. He says India's poor are different from the rest of the world because they are poor in one of the most unequal regions of the world. There is wealth and luxury all around India's poor. The first chapter contains some of Manu's strange experiences while covering an earthquake as a journalist. The book's title is not tongue in cheek in anyway. Manu really wonders why India's poor do not rise up in a violent revolution. He proceeds to examine why they dont.
He says the ugliness of Indian cities and its squalor reassures the poor that the country still belongs to them. This is not just a book about India's poor. It is about the Indian psychology. How the Indian mind works and how we look at the world and each other.
Indian politicians protect the rich from the poor. Manu narrates an incident in which a village in India was ravaged by leopard attacks. Many villagers lost their lives. The villagers demanded the leopard be killed. Journalists, activists and even branches of the Indian government prevented this. It was only the local politicians who spoke for the poor. Manu uses examples of Jayalalita and Karunanidhi, Tamil politicians who gave away freebies like television sets and even ounces of gold to the poor to illustrate this point. Politicians calm down and reassure the poor in India.
The poor have been conned into believing that education will save them. Not good at studying? Then maybe its their own fault is what the poor have been convinced by India's elites. Manu wants the college degree as a qualification for non-technical and non-scientific jobs to end. He considers his own literature degree to be a complete waste of time. In an interview I watched last week in which he promoted this book, he says during college his sister sent him synopsis of Shakespeare's plays which he couldn't bear to read.
There are dark forces that protect the rich from the poor. The poor fears Indian law enforcement agencies - the dreary courtrooms, dreadful jails and encounter killings which is another important reason why they do not revolt. Unlike the Western world, there is no compassion for the rioters and gangsters in India. This is why despite its inequalities, many Indian cities are safer than ones in the Western world. But Manu wonders for how much longer Indian law enforcement can continue to be so brutal.
The dismantling of "amateur Indians", a phrase coined by Manu to describe English speaking and sometimes old rich middle class Indians who feel lost in the new India where the street smart villager Indian now calls the shots is one of the books highlights. Manu is merciless with them. He says many of them hide out in colleges and activism to escape adult life. It has become expensive to escape from the other India. The other India is encroaching into the once safe islands where the amateur Indians used to live. There isn't much they can do about it.
The chapter called "Let the Poor Have Fun" in which Manu describes how a bunch of Indian activists convinced the Indian government to stop Facebook's free basics free internet for India's poor really convinced me about how well meaning activists might actually harm the poor. Maybe the poor just want to watch free porn and use the internet for entertainment. They do not care whether Facebook might favor some websites and platforms over the other which was the argument used by these activists to block Facebook's free internet for India's poor.
The profiles of Nandan Nilekani and an unnamed patriarch of a Malayali Christian family who runs a gold pawning institution (I suspect this is the Muthoot family) are excellent. Manu believes entrepreneurs and billionaires are underrated rescuers of the poor and are more effective than incompetent empathetic do-gooders and pompous activists.
There are many more interesting and original observations, anecdotes and advice to the upper middle class. Even though it is easy to read and only 266 pages long, you feel like you have read a sprawling work. There is so much to appreciate. This book is as interesting and important as Naipaul's India trilogy. And more entertaining than those books which predicted India's rise. Once again, bravo Manu Joseph. I will read this book again and again.
August 13, 2025
So I just got done reading Manu Joseph's latest book, "Why the Poor Don't Kill Us", and I have a couple of theories. Firstly, Manu Joseph is in deep with some loan sharks. They are bad people. They break kneecaps, and he needed a quick advance royalty check. Because other than that, there is no reason for this book to exist. The book is just lazy. For example, the back cover is identical to the inside jacket, which is taken for verbatim from a passage. Same passage, printed three times. So if you're not even going to bother to write a fresh blog for the book, why are you even writing a book?
My second theory about this whole thing is that Manu Joseph is a lot smarter and funnier in his head than he is in real life. Because despite having read this 250 odd page book, and I am very gracious calling it a book, I have no idea why the poor don't kill us. The entire book is a series of loosely connected vignettes (I can't even call them essays because none of them go over a couple of thousand words) where Manu Joseph is just making assertions. "I believe", "Probably why". None of them are backed up by any research, reference, or footnotes. It just feels like the rambling of an old Indian WhatsApp uncle. Only this WhatsApp uncle is not a raging Islamophobe or the other way around. He has a lot of problems with wokeism, with intellectuals, with the left, with activism. But he doesn't really give any consistent solutions to any of those things.
And my biggest problem with the book is the tone that the book takes. Across the entire book, rich and affluent Indians are referred to as "They", as if Manu Joseph is not one of them. But with three very successful books, A stint with the New York Times and a show that has been produced on Netflix, I don't think he can distance himself from a system that actively benefits him. Sure, there is some "white guilt" where he talks about how little he pays his maids. But at the end of it, I don't think there's any effort that is taken to remedy that. He makes a prescription of tipping more, but I don't think charity begins at home for him.
So in conclusion, I think the real reason why the poor don't kill us is that they don't know yet that people are paying 600 Rupees to read this. If they did, they probably would. And honestly, I wouldn't even fault them.
My second theory about this whole thing is that Manu Joseph is a lot smarter and funnier in his head than he is in real life. Because despite having read this 250 odd page book, and I am very gracious calling it a book, I have no idea why the poor don't kill us. The entire book is a series of loosely connected vignettes (I can't even call them essays because none of them go over a couple of thousand words) where Manu Joseph is just making assertions. "I believe", "Probably why". None of them are backed up by any research, reference, or footnotes. It just feels like the rambling of an old Indian WhatsApp uncle. Only this WhatsApp uncle is not a raging Islamophobe or the other way around. He has a lot of problems with wokeism, with intellectuals, with the left, with activism. But he doesn't really give any consistent solutions to any of those things.
And my biggest problem with the book is the tone that the book takes. Across the entire book, rich and affluent Indians are referred to as "They", as if Manu Joseph is not one of them. But with three very successful books, A stint with the New York Times and a show that has been produced on Netflix, I don't think he can distance himself from a system that actively benefits him. Sure, there is some "white guilt" where he talks about how little he pays his maids. But at the end of it, I don't think there's any effort that is taken to remedy that. He makes a prescription of tipping more, but I don't think charity begins at home for him.
So in conclusion, I think the real reason why the poor don't kill us is that they don't know yet that people are paying 600 Rupees to read this. If they did, they probably would. And honestly, I wouldn't even fault them.
December 16, 2025
Well, I've always known the writer is rabid sanghi, thanks to some hateful tweets of yesteryears. (he has since toned down his abject admiration) and yet I had enjoyed reading his fiction. But after reading his books, I always get rid of his books as if they sully my bookshelf. That eternal personal conflict: writer that you don't like as a person manages to write decently. writer or writing? I've watched him at various litfests saying not so nice things in the guise of wit and getting away with the laughs.
so I picked up this book out of curiosity. in several repressed countries, people write issues they can't write about openly as crime or mystery fiction. many examples. Manu Joseph wrote an entire book to express his rage and hate and sweeping generalizations as a way to answer why poor shouldn't kill us. like why sun even comes up in Amrit Kaal. or Why skies are blue. of course, he doesn't answer it. also kind of skimmed over history of Naxalites where poor did kill the rich systematically until it became a fight against the state. read that again. fight against the state. Poor Manu didn't get it.
Tho Manu is honest to accept that villains were catapulted to leaders untimed by collective hate. that grudging admission was there in his Laila book too.
Book starts well; you do smirk at hypocrisy of upper middle class (which is essentially Manu writing about Manu) presented with wit (actually sneer) but soon devolves. Same old JNU, Kanhaiya, Vemula bashing. Apparently Vemula got done in because of his activism (yep speaking up for your own immediate survival is activism). He must be the one most ill-informed journalist who doesn't know how Aadhaar makes it so easy to stop social benefits that were actually enshrined as law. last 5-year data alone proves how easy it made for govt to disable access to social benefits to genuine people. Don't -care-Manu, he wrote a whole chapter about it and extolled more and yet didn't even manage to answer the question in the title of his book.
Another chapter is a rant on Facebook 's Free Basicals. Pretty sure Mark Zuckerberg didn't spend as much rage as he did on that opposition. who will tell him about FB in Myanmar or other places. I often wondered is it just pure ignorance or malice. Then he kept contradicting himself: Hindi is dead language as no rewards ( I totally agree, been saying it all my life) and then next page he wants to convince you that the future of English in India is dead because North India is all captured by Hindi and South with others. like how, what? There was many such points where he contradicts himself on next page.
if you are of average intelligence, this book is an affront. He once writes education or degree because you want to learn makes sense and then went on to piss on Humanities since they don't earn money or salary. Assumption is no one really wants to learn these and that there are no jobs after studying humanities. okay. and of course, Modiji is presented as education visionary. 😄
After about 170 pages, he's got nothing new to say or hate. I'm not even sure why those pointless chapters are there.
The entire book essentially is a ramble. I want to end this review rant of his rant with this gem. he writes, good thing about Gurugram smog is that you don't get to see people. you see, this is Manu plagiarising himself. Long ago he wrote an article in Open Magazine (maybe in 2011) about Delhi that ends with the same line: only Gurugram smog has replaced Delhi fog. what a hypocritical idiot, who still lives there. lol
p.s: did the moneylender actually sponsor the book? apparently moneylenders are very good. we can make an educated guess which one. Snark aside, please read Poor Economics by Abhijit Banerjee and Esther Duflo if the subject of book title interests you because this book is not it.
so I picked up this book out of curiosity. in several repressed countries, people write issues they can't write about openly as crime or mystery fiction. many examples. Manu Joseph wrote an entire book to express his rage and hate and sweeping generalizations as a way to answer why poor shouldn't kill us. like why sun even comes up in Amrit Kaal. or Why skies are blue. of course, he doesn't answer it. also kind of skimmed over history of Naxalites where poor did kill the rich systematically until it became a fight against the state. read that again. fight against the state. Poor Manu didn't get it.
Tho Manu is honest to accept that villains were catapulted to leaders untimed by collective hate. that grudging admission was there in his Laila book too.
Book starts well; you do smirk at hypocrisy of upper middle class (which is essentially Manu writing about Manu) presented with wit (actually sneer) but soon devolves. Same old JNU, Kanhaiya, Vemula bashing. Apparently Vemula got done in because of his activism (yep speaking up for your own immediate survival is activism). He must be the one most ill-informed journalist who doesn't know how Aadhaar makes it so easy to stop social benefits that were actually enshrined as law. last 5-year data alone proves how easy it made for govt to disable access to social benefits to genuine people. Don't -care-Manu, he wrote a whole chapter about it and extolled more and yet didn't even manage to answer the question in the title of his book.
Another chapter is a rant on Facebook 's Free Basicals. Pretty sure Mark Zuckerberg didn't spend as much rage as he did on that opposition. who will tell him about FB in Myanmar or other places. I often wondered is it just pure ignorance or malice. Then he kept contradicting himself: Hindi is dead language as no rewards ( I totally agree, been saying it all my life) and then next page he wants to convince you that the future of English in India is dead because North India is all captured by Hindi and South with others. like how, what? There was many such points where he contradicts himself on next page.
if you are of average intelligence, this book is an affront. He once writes education or degree because you want to learn makes sense and then went on to piss on Humanities since they don't earn money or salary. Assumption is no one really wants to learn these and that there are no jobs after studying humanities. okay. and of course, Modiji is presented as education visionary. 😄
After about 170 pages, he's got nothing new to say or hate. I'm not even sure why those pointless chapters are there.
The entire book essentially is a ramble. I want to end this review rant of his rant with this gem. he writes, good thing about Gurugram smog is that you don't get to see people. you see, this is Manu plagiarising himself. Long ago he wrote an article in Open Magazine (maybe in 2011) about Delhi that ends with the same line: only Gurugram smog has replaced Delhi fog. what a hypocritical idiot, who still lives there. lol
p.s: did the moneylender actually sponsor the book? apparently moneylenders are very good. we can make an educated guess which one. Snark aside, please read Poor Economics by Abhijit Banerjee and Esther Duflo if the subject of book title interests you because this book is not it.
August 15, 2025
Starting from the guard at your gated community to the peon who serves you tea at the office, even though the poor in India are the backbone of daily life, they don't revolt. Why the Poor Don't Kill Us: The Psychology of Indians by Manu Joseph explores plausible reasons for the absence of a broad-scale revolution among the poor in India. Is it because our legal system is tilted towards the wealthy, or because they are inherently good? The author has discussed many points, and most of them make
A good, light read to understand your neighborhood. Can we really do anything, or are we just doomed to live in inequality? You might find some answers.
The author has strongly criticised what he calls the amateur Indian-the English-speaking, upper-middle-class segment in India. If you have already read Meet the Savarnas by Ravikant Kisana, you would appreciate the book even more.
A good, light read to understand your neighborhood. Can we really do anything, or are we just doomed to live in inequality? You might find some answers.
The author has strongly criticised what he calls the amateur Indian-the English-speaking, upper-middle-class segment in India. If you have already read Meet the Savarnas by Ravikant Kisana, you would appreciate the book even more.
December 15, 2025
One can always bank on the provocateur for a dose of hot takes, and he delivers. It is intriguing, though with the tenor of what can be called gupshup.
Irkesome at times, as it comes across as speech by a self-ordained representative of the average Indian, despite him being a part of the 'elite' that he likes to snub.
Though picking up pace in the second half, with the wit working better, the overarching quest to elicit a reaction paints people in broad strokes, like putting someone who is pro net-neutrality as obviously anti-GMO. Manu hits it right with envy though, and one can see this long held emotion against Arundhati Roy, whom he thinks is his equal (scoff!)
All said and done, and the difference in ideology/general attitude towards life that you may have with Manu notwithstanding, the writing is entertaining and he would consider the last laugh his since you parted with 600 of your rupees for this.
P.S. It might also be interesting to hold to academic scrutiny, the reasons listed for the title to our sub-continental neighbours, where a lot of "us" were killed.
Irkesome at times, as it comes across as speech by a self-ordained representative of the average Indian, despite him being a part of the 'elite' that he likes to snub.
Though picking up pace in the second half, with the wit working better, the overarching quest to elicit a reaction paints people in broad strokes, like putting someone who is pro net-neutrality as obviously anti-GMO. Manu hits it right with envy though, and one can see this long held emotion against Arundhati Roy, whom he thinks is his equal (scoff!)
All said and done, and the difference in ideology/general attitude towards life that you may have with Manu notwithstanding, the writing is entertaining and he would consider the last laugh his since you parted with 600 of your rupees for this.
P.S. It might also be interesting to hold to academic scrutiny, the reasons listed for the title to our sub-continental neighbours, where a lot of "us" were killed.
October 19, 2025
Manu Joseph's columns tend to be about interesting topics, but he tends to be so provocative and so contrarian in his views that I normally switch off. So when I saw his new book Why The Poor Don't Kill Us, I had to steel myself to pick it up, even if it was about a question that has struck most of us who are reasonably well-off. As is normal with him, his answers to the question are based on anecdotal evidence, some of them sound reasonable, some quite ridiculous. Some of his answers include:
1. The poor don't compare themselves with the rich, but with poor like themselves, so they are more upset if their neighbour gets an extra appliance at home than if Ambani builds a mansion in front of their hut.
2. The politicians bribe them - with freebies in election after election, with loan waivers, pressure cookers, gold, etc.
3. The rich (and the politicians) spin them a 'patriotic' story - religious and caste identity, for example. They then are willing to fight for that rather than functioning schools or hospitals.
All of these might have kernels of truth jn them, but he says them in this sneering tone. You just want to slap him.
Then, to make matters worse, he goes on this diatribe against the 'left' (The ‘left’ is a low-stakes human hive of hearts that sees the world as a human hive of victims. The ‘right’ is a high-stakes preoccupation with what is locally relevant. The ‘left’ is a monoculture of a European idea; the ‘right’ is culture.). Again, kernel of truth (the 'left' is for universal ideas of equality, human rights et whereas the 'right' tends to be about immigration and cultural identity, topics more locally relevant), but twisted beyond recognition into something terrible.
There are parts that are just plain bad arguments. He goes on a rant against net neutrality, saying the poor should have a right to the internet and so a ring-fenced internet should be allowed, and you just want to shake him up and say, dude, look around you - the poor have not lost anything with net neutrality.
He also goes on a rant against 'activists' , saying all the change in the world has never been about the lower classes rising up, but the second tier rising up against the top tier, using the poor as a weapon (the barons against the kings for the magna carta, the upper class Indians against the Brits for Indian independence etc etc). Again, a kernel of truth, and again, you want to shake him and say, "So what'. It is activism at the end of the day that makes a difference.
I could go on and on. It is an exasperating book. Because it is not really a book, but a series of opinion pieces based on nothing more than anecdotal evidence and Manu Joseph's feelings on that particular day.
Not a particularly useful way to spend your time.
1. The poor don't compare themselves with the rich, but with poor like themselves, so they are more upset if their neighbour gets an extra appliance at home than if Ambani builds a mansion in front of their hut.
2. The politicians bribe them - with freebies in election after election, with loan waivers, pressure cookers, gold, etc.
3. The rich (and the politicians) spin them a 'patriotic' story - religious and caste identity, for example. They then are willing to fight for that rather than functioning schools or hospitals.
All of these might have kernels of truth jn them, but he says them in this sneering tone. You just want to slap him.
Then, to make matters worse, he goes on this diatribe against the 'left' (The ‘left’ is a low-stakes human hive of hearts that sees the world as a human hive of victims. The ‘right’ is a high-stakes preoccupation with what is locally relevant. The ‘left’ is a monoculture of a European idea; the ‘right’ is culture.). Again, kernel of truth (the 'left' is for universal ideas of equality, human rights et whereas the 'right' tends to be about immigration and cultural identity, topics more locally relevant), but twisted beyond recognition into something terrible.
There are parts that are just plain bad arguments. He goes on a rant against net neutrality, saying the poor should have a right to the internet and so a ring-fenced internet should be allowed, and you just want to shake him up and say, dude, look around you - the poor have not lost anything with net neutrality.
He also goes on a rant against 'activists' , saying all the change in the world has never been about the lower classes rising up, but the second tier rising up against the top tier, using the poor as a weapon (the barons against the kings for the magna carta, the upper class Indians against the Brits for Indian independence etc etc). Again, a kernel of truth, and again, you want to shake him and say, "So what'. It is activism at the end of the day that makes a difference.
I could go on and on. It is an exasperating book. Because it is not really a book, but a series of opinion pieces based on nothing more than anecdotal evidence and Manu Joseph's feelings on that particular day.
Not a particularly useful way to spend your time.
December 25, 2025
Provocative and funny. Sharp observations delivered with dollops of dark humour. Analyses of human psychology from a bold and original perspective. I do not agree with everything he has to say, especially about his lampooning of activism. But it is good to have our views challenged and to experience a healthy shake-up that prompts us to re-examine our beliefs. There are some great one liners and punchlines which deserve to be on a T-shirt.
September 20, 2025
I had read the earlier books of Manu Joseph, ‘Serious Men’ and ‘Illicit Happiness of Other People’. ‘Serious Men’ was funny and lampooned the Brahminical culture of India’s premier scientific institution in Bombay. Of course, he does not mention it by name, but I could see it was the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research because I had worked there in my twenties. The novel was entertaining, and I agreed with some characterizations regarding the Tata Institute. I loved his other book, ‘Illicit Happiness of Other People’, which I thought was brilliant. Joseph has a remarkable sense of humor and the command of English prose to deliver it. His observations are sharp and unnerving. The title of this book intrigued me, and I bought it assuming it was fiction. It is non-fiction; however, the book keeps your attention with its many provocative conclusions, statements and assertions.
The book’s title perhaps comes from Manu Joseph’s conviction that India is one of the most unequal regions in the world, riven by class and caste. Still, there is peace in Indian society, and this book asks why. One could answer the author, saying, the poor don’t kill us because they don’t want to. They don’t want to because killing the middle-class and the rich does not solve their problems. But I think Joseph is not asking in a literal sense. He is asking why the poor, who outnumber the rich and the middle classes by nine to one, do not revolt against the ruling elite and overthrow them. They could then set the stage for a better livelihood for themselves. He answers it with his own take on rebellion and revolution just as Albert Camus did in his book, ‘The Rebel’! Joseph says the second rung of the elite creates and sponsors every revolution against the first rung. They invoke oppression, equality and fairness and enlist the poor majority in their service. Revolts against capitalism, inequality, dictatorship and India’s freedom movement are all the aristocrat’s use of morality to mobilize the masses against the ruling elite. The poor are far below the second rung. Hence, revolutions do not change their lives much.
Manu Joseph makes many sharp, insightful observations about Indians, the Left and elites. While talking about Indians despising Muslims at home and supporting the Palestinian cause faraway, he says that all elites are like parents. At home, they are conservative because of the high stakes; beyond home, they are liberal since it’s abstract, having less significance. It captures well why Indian Americans support Democrats in the US while being worshippers of an authoritarian like Modi at home. ‘The Psychology of Indians’ is the book’s subtitle. Joseph shows many stinging examples of it. I shall quote a couple for the reader to get the flavor. While talking about housing colonies, he says India is a nation where the middle class pays a premium, not for the quality of things. Instead, to ensure the ‘other kind’ of Indians do not enter. Another one is on compensation to the domestic help. Often, we see ‘accommodation and food provided’ in many homes. The household ‘gives’ the domestic staff a room, which often seems deliberately impoverished!
The author does not admire the left or bleeding-heart liberals. He believes they object to every effort by politicians or other entrepreneurs to bring about social change by raising some obscure objections inspired by their Western mentors. He quotes the example of Aadhar, the unique identity system, created at the initiative of the Manmohan Singh government. Activists opposed Aadhar because it aids mass surveillance by the state and invades our privacy. Joseph speculates that the social activists’ protests stem from a different psychological reason. It is their intense dislike of billionaires (Nandan Nilakeni, in this case) straying into their domain - humanitarian activities. Aadhar aims to help over a billion Indians open bank accounts. This would allow the state to transfer funds, bypassing intermediaries. Joseph sees the activists’ campaign against Aadhar as a turf war between them and Nilakeni, whom they saw as a billionaire who has spent ‘no time in the villages’. The author makes some acerbic comments about such activist groups. He cites the case of an activist using a US social security number but perceiving the Aadhar number as a threat to ‘freedom of speech’. He accuses such activism of attracting young people who feel like failures and others who get drawn to negativity. These were the ones cast aside by the modern world, who derived their self-worth from activism. Elsewhere, he claims that humanitarianism has become a magnet for the psychologically unstable, who feel compelled or wish to see unhappiness in everything. This is blistering criticism that sounds much like an RSS-rant. It may alienate admirers of the author who believe in and take part in such activism.
I feel Joseph needed to support this attack with more examples than just Aadhar. With some research, he could cite more projects that prove his contention. If we look back at India’s post-independence history, I can recall three major projects which resonate with this issue. In all cases, despite some problems, their overall impact has been quite positive. When India embarked on the Green Revolution around 1967-68, many liberal and left activists objected to it by predicting dire consequences. It will ruin India’s small farmers by encouraging greater concentration of land in fewer hands and by impoverishing the small land-holders into agricultural labourers. But the government went ahead anyway and changed India’s food scenario for the larger good. In the 1960s and 70s, India embarked on the White Revolution to revolutionize milk production. Again, leading left-wing magazines like the ‘Economic and Political Weekly’ became a tool for activists to oppose it. They even lobbied the Dutch government and the queen of the Benelux countries against helping the project. Again, the social change the White Revolution brought about vindicated the government. In the 1980s, when India started experimenting with the EVM (electronic voting machine), there were doubts and objections about its feasibility in India. Joseph could have researched these projects and documented them in support. It would have softened the extreme portrayal of activists as those who failed elsewhere, seeking self-respect through activism. Perhaps Joseph does not want to soften his message.
Inequality has been a major social issue in recent decades. Joseph blames the upper middle class more for inequality than billionaires. Billionaires and their children do not compete with the rest of society. They have their own charmed universe where they do not mingle with people lacking comparable wealth. We should pay greater attention to the advantage that the upper middle class has over the groups below them. They compete with the rest of society in entrance exams, finance jobs, start-up culture, and the arts with a head start. Their head start is not in their material assets alone but in an unfair advantage in social contacts and the doors of the clubs they control for entry. This is an insightful observation by Joseph. Though his criticism of the upper middle class Indian culture is valid, it loses its potency somewhat because he himself belongs to this stratum. If he has children, won’t he want to give them a head start in life using his assets? He also employs servant maids, whom he must be paying well. But he cannot pay them the hourly rate that is too much at variance with the rest of Gurugram’s upper middle class. So, he cannot dispute that he is complicit.
One disappointing feature of the book for me is the number of sweeping assertions in the book without a deeper discussion. Let us look at some of them. “The poor are the worst enemies of the poor” is an example. When life is hard and resources are finite, equals become rivals. Therefore, the poorest Hindus hate the poorest Muslims, and the not-so-elite Dalits are rivals of elite Dalits like Chamars (Maharashtra) and Malas (Andhra Pradesh). Another assertion is that Indians fight about only useless issues, with intense fervor. Indians do not riot about air pollution or terrible road congestion or spatial ugliness and chaos. Nor do they fight for water, electricity and free schools but do so for abstract and obscure issues like religion, caste and other identities. Joseph says esoteric and sensational issues seduce the poor instead of those that will transform their lives. Hence, it is easy for the rich to recruit them as the face of a useless national emotion. Another assertion states that liberal education concentrates on a dystopian view of the future. Hence, there is a dystopian view of GMO, for example. I think it is elite environmental interest groups, not education, that promote dystopian views on GMOs, climate change, and the future of Earth’s species. Liberal education just puts out the various viewpoints for us to decide. Such unsubstantiated claims are reminiscent of wild statements elders would make in Tamil Brahmin households in the 1960s.
Joseph comes from a lower middle-class Malayali family and grew up in Madras in the 1970s and 80s there. I relate to it, since I, too, grew up within that class, in Madras, a generation before. His concern for the poor is visible throughout the book, as is his contempt for the Indian upper middle-class. His backing of billionaires like Mark Zuckerberg and Nandan Nilakeni shows his belief in their capacity to create substantial social change, even if they stand to benefit financially. I did not expect his level of hostility towards the ‘do-good-social activism’ of the liberals and elites. Perhaps he has his own experiences with them that made him so. I hope he writes another book on that subject.
So, does Manu Joseph answer the question he asks in the title? I think the book says the poor don’t kill us because they do not carry out any revolution that happens in society. If the upper middle-class has to be overthrown, the next lower rung - the middle class - will do it. So, it is the middle class that would ‘kill us’ and not the poor.
Despite my misgivings and disagreements, I think the book is excellent reading. The urban middle classes will benefit from it by getting a new perspective about their negative role in Indian society. They will feel compelled to look inward rather than blame politicians, the bureaucracy, corruption, Islam and Sonia Gandhi.
The book’s title perhaps comes from Manu Joseph’s conviction that India is one of the most unequal regions in the world, riven by class and caste. Still, there is peace in Indian society, and this book asks why. One could answer the author, saying, the poor don’t kill us because they don’t want to. They don’t want to because killing the middle-class and the rich does not solve their problems. But I think Joseph is not asking in a literal sense. He is asking why the poor, who outnumber the rich and the middle classes by nine to one, do not revolt against the ruling elite and overthrow them. They could then set the stage for a better livelihood for themselves. He answers it with his own take on rebellion and revolution just as Albert Camus did in his book, ‘The Rebel’! Joseph says the second rung of the elite creates and sponsors every revolution against the first rung. They invoke oppression, equality and fairness and enlist the poor majority in their service. Revolts against capitalism, inequality, dictatorship and India’s freedom movement are all the aristocrat’s use of morality to mobilize the masses against the ruling elite. The poor are far below the second rung. Hence, revolutions do not change their lives much.
Manu Joseph makes many sharp, insightful observations about Indians, the Left and elites. While talking about Indians despising Muslims at home and supporting the Palestinian cause faraway, he says that all elites are like parents. At home, they are conservative because of the high stakes; beyond home, they are liberal since it’s abstract, having less significance. It captures well why Indian Americans support Democrats in the US while being worshippers of an authoritarian like Modi at home. ‘The Psychology of Indians’ is the book’s subtitle. Joseph shows many stinging examples of it. I shall quote a couple for the reader to get the flavor. While talking about housing colonies, he says India is a nation where the middle class pays a premium, not for the quality of things. Instead, to ensure the ‘other kind’ of Indians do not enter. Another one is on compensation to the domestic help. Often, we see ‘accommodation and food provided’ in many homes. The household ‘gives’ the domestic staff a room, which often seems deliberately impoverished!
The author does not admire the left or bleeding-heart liberals. He believes they object to every effort by politicians or other entrepreneurs to bring about social change by raising some obscure objections inspired by their Western mentors. He quotes the example of Aadhar, the unique identity system, created at the initiative of the Manmohan Singh government. Activists opposed Aadhar because it aids mass surveillance by the state and invades our privacy. Joseph speculates that the social activists’ protests stem from a different psychological reason. It is their intense dislike of billionaires (Nandan Nilakeni, in this case) straying into their domain - humanitarian activities. Aadhar aims to help over a billion Indians open bank accounts. This would allow the state to transfer funds, bypassing intermediaries. Joseph sees the activists’ campaign against Aadhar as a turf war between them and Nilakeni, whom they saw as a billionaire who has spent ‘no time in the villages’. The author makes some acerbic comments about such activist groups. He cites the case of an activist using a US social security number but perceiving the Aadhar number as a threat to ‘freedom of speech’. He accuses such activism of attracting young people who feel like failures and others who get drawn to negativity. These were the ones cast aside by the modern world, who derived their self-worth from activism. Elsewhere, he claims that humanitarianism has become a magnet for the psychologically unstable, who feel compelled or wish to see unhappiness in everything. This is blistering criticism that sounds much like an RSS-rant. It may alienate admirers of the author who believe in and take part in such activism.
I feel Joseph needed to support this attack with more examples than just Aadhar. With some research, he could cite more projects that prove his contention. If we look back at India’s post-independence history, I can recall three major projects which resonate with this issue. In all cases, despite some problems, their overall impact has been quite positive. When India embarked on the Green Revolution around 1967-68, many liberal and left activists objected to it by predicting dire consequences. It will ruin India’s small farmers by encouraging greater concentration of land in fewer hands and by impoverishing the small land-holders into agricultural labourers. But the government went ahead anyway and changed India’s food scenario for the larger good. In the 1960s and 70s, India embarked on the White Revolution to revolutionize milk production. Again, leading left-wing magazines like the ‘Economic and Political Weekly’ became a tool for activists to oppose it. They even lobbied the Dutch government and the queen of the Benelux countries against helping the project. Again, the social change the White Revolution brought about vindicated the government. In the 1980s, when India started experimenting with the EVM (electronic voting machine), there were doubts and objections about its feasibility in India. Joseph could have researched these projects and documented them in support. It would have softened the extreme portrayal of activists as those who failed elsewhere, seeking self-respect through activism. Perhaps Joseph does not want to soften his message.
Inequality has been a major social issue in recent decades. Joseph blames the upper middle class more for inequality than billionaires. Billionaires and their children do not compete with the rest of society. They have their own charmed universe where they do not mingle with people lacking comparable wealth. We should pay greater attention to the advantage that the upper middle class has over the groups below them. They compete with the rest of society in entrance exams, finance jobs, start-up culture, and the arts with a head start. Their head start is not in their material assets alone but in an unfair advantage in social contacts and the doors of the clubs they control for entry. This is an insightful observation by Joseph. Though his criticism of the upper middle class Indian culture is valid, it loses its potency somewhat because he himself belongs to this stratum. If he has children, won’t he want to give them a head start in life using his assets? He also employs servant maids, whom he must be paying well. But he cannot pay them the hourly rate that is too much at variance with the rest of Gurugram’s upper middle class. So, he cannot dispute that he is complicit.
One disappointing feature of the book for me is the number of sweeping assertions in the book without a deeper discussion. Let us look at some of them. “The poor are the worst enemies of the poor” is an example. When life is hard and resources are finite, equals become rivals. Therefore, the poorest Hindus hate the poorest Muslims, and the not-so-elite Dalits are rivals of elite Dalits like Chamars (Maharashtra) and Malas (Andhra Pradesh). Another assertion is that Indians fight about only useless issues, with intense fervor. Indians do not riot about air pollution or terrible road congestion or spatial ugliness and chaos. Nor do they fight for water, electricity and free schools but do so for abstract and obscure issues like religion, caste and other identities. Joseph says esoteric and sensational issues seduce the poor instead of those that will transform their lives. Hence, it is easy for the rich to recruit them as the face of a useless national emotion. Another assertion states that liberal education concentrates on a dystopian view of the future. Hence, there is a dystopian view of GMO, for example. I think it is elite environmental interest groups, not education, that promote dystopian views on GMOs, climate change, and the future of Earth’s species. Liberal education just puts out the various viewpoints for us to decide. Such unsubstantiated claims are reminiscent of wild statements elders would make in Tamil Brahmin households in the 1960s.
Joseph comes from a lower middle-class Malayali family and grew up in Madras in the 1970s and 80s there. I relate to it, since I, too, grew up within that class, in Madras, a generation before. His concern for the poor is visible throughout the book, as is his contempt for the Indian upper middle-class. His backing of billionaires like Mark Zuckerberg and Nandan Nilakeni shows his belief in their capacity to create substantial social change, even if they stand to benefit financially. I did not expect his level of hostility towards the ‘do-good-social activism’ of the liberals and elites. Perhaps he has his own experiences with them that made him so. I hope he writes another book on that subject.
So, does Manu Joseph answer the question he asks in the title? I think the book says the poor don’t kill us because they do not carry out any revolution that happens in society. If the upper middle-class has to be overthrown, the next lower rung - the middle class - will do it. So, it is the middle class that would ‘kill us’ and not the poor.
Despite my misgivings and disagreements, I think the book is excellent reading. The urban middle classes will benefit from it by getting a new perspective about their negative role in Indian society. They will feel compelled to look inward rather than blame politicians, the bureaucracy, corruption, Islam and Sonia Gandhi.
December 22, 2025
Why the poor don't kill us is an interesting take on the psychology of Indians. The book is about how Indians behave framed narrowly by a mystery– Why is there peace between the classes in one of the most unequal regions on earth?
The book is divided into several chapters such as - Who is poor ? Why the poor don't kill us? How we provoke ? How India's chaos and ugliness reassure the poor? Are the poor the worst enemies of the poor? How hate unites rich and poor? How politicians protect us from the poor?, etc. Most of these chapters are original and thought provoking as the author calls out the hypocrisies and contradictions that abound in India.
The writing is precise, thoughts have clarity and important issues are discussed. An immensely readable book.
The book is divided into several chapters such as - Who is poor ? Why the poor don't kill us? How we provoke ? How India's chaos and ugliness reassure the poor? Are the poor the worst enemies of the poor? How hate unites rich and poor? How politicians protect us from the poor?, etc. Most of these chapters are original and thought provoking as the author calls out the hypocrisies and contradictions that abound in India.
The writing is precise, thoughts have clarity and important issues are discussed. An immensely readable book.
August 10, 2025
Sharp, tight, funny, and hard hitting.
Best reads of this year till now.
Best reads of this year till now.
October 22, 2025
The book is very readable. You can finish it in two or three sittings (I read it in two). The first sitting was enjoyable because it contained the introduction, which has most of his points. While it is clear from the beginning that Manu Joseph won't be presenting a lot of data to back up his points (and he doesn't claim that either), it wasn't an issue for me because he has a background in journalism, and his writing is solid. I was there for the observations and to understand the "psychology of Indians" as the fitting subtitle says. But a lot of the second half to me sounded like the ramblings of a WhatsApp uncle.
I enjoy hating on fellow urban elites/so-called intellectuals, basically English-speaking liberal types (since Manu Joseph doesn't talk about caste a lot in this book, I won't say 'Savarna' here), and really like when people point out our hypocrisy. There are some fascinating observations here, and the book is certainly provocative. But the sweeping assertions need some more data, or at least more examples, and without them, they eventually just sound like rants. The case for Facebook/Free Basics didn't help (especially after reading Careless People).
I'm happy to have read this book because it helps to see some things in a fresh/different light, even while disagreeing with the author's broader world-view. Again, there are some fascinating observations here.
Based on the Goodreads star rating system, 2 means "it was okay." I wouldn't recommend it, but I'd certainly love to discuss it! Perhaps 2.5?
I enjoy hating on fellow urban elites/so-called intellectuals, basically English-speaking liberal types (since Manu Joseph doesn't talk about caste a lot in this book, I won't say 'Savarna' here), and really like when people point out our hypocrisy. There are some fascinating observations here, and the book is certainly provocative. But the sweeping assertions need some more data, or at least more examples, and without them, they eventually just sound like rants. The case for Facebook/Free Basics didn't help (especially after reading Careless People).
I'm happy to have read this book because it helps to see some things in a fresh/different light, even while disagreeing with the author's broader world-view. Again, there are some fascinating observations here.
Based on the Goodreads star rating system, 2 means "it was okay." I wouldn't recommend it, but I'd certainly love to discuss it! Perhaps 2.5?
September 7, 2025
Writing about a serious topic like this in a satirical and dark humour manner is not easy. However, the author manages to bring the story of daily struggles and mundane moments in India to life in a profound way.
One paragraph that really stuck me is: “So often activism is the war of millionaires against billionaires.Across the ages, all of activism is just this the second rung of a society fighting against the top rung in the name of a public cause.”
One paragraph that really stuck me is: “So often activism is the war of millionaires against billionaires.Across the ages, all of activism is just this the second rung of a society fighting against the top rung in the name of a public cause.”
Read
December 7, 2025This is not a book. It’s a rant, that at best can happen within a group of friends, while drinking. That’s all there is to it.
The author, who has so clearly distinguished himself from the intellectuals (rightfully so), has a very apparent beef with them, which didn’t make sense at all to me; after all, the book was supposed to explain “why the poor don’t kill” — it also started with that, but then gradually became a bashing session of the activists of the country who look up to intellectuals.
He wrote what’s given—poor people can’t think straight if their basics are not met; but somehow he managed to take that responsibility away from the government, and put it on the activists of the country; which is hilarious to me.
He is funny in a way that he would defend billionaires, and keep them in a separate league altogether, but keep targeting people who are gathering knowledge from all over the world, and are trying to make sense of the socio-economic situation in the country.
No idea is perfect and not every objection can be fruitful, but that is exactly how people expand their spectrum of knowledge.
But to him knowledge is not required in a country where there is so much poverty, education is a means of slavery according to him. I guess he wants everyone to just quit the farce of educating themselves and open a tea stall.
I honestly have no idea why I wasted my precious hours on reading what he THINKS.
Also, this book won’t tell you why poor don’t kill. Somewhere he wrote it’s because of Indian jails. He could have just written that on the cover and people could have moved on with their lives.
The author, who has so clearly distinguished himself from the intellectuals (rightfully so), has a very apparent beef with them, which didn’t make sense at all to me; after all, the book was supposed to explain “why the poor don’t kill” — it also started with that, but then gradually became a bashing session of the activists of the country who look up to intellectuals.
He wrote what’s given—poor people can’t think straight if their basics are not met; but somehow he managed to take that responsibility away from the government, and put it on the activists of the country; which is hilarious to me.
He is funny in a way that he would defend billionaires, and keep them in a separate league altogether, but keep targeting people who are gathering knowledge from all over the world, and are trying to make sense of the socio-economic situation in the country.
No idea is perfect and not every objection can be fruitful, but that is exactly how people expand their spectrum of knowledge.
But to him knowledge is not required in a country where there is so much poverty, education is a means of slavery according to him. I guess he wants everyone to just quit the farce of educating themselves and open a tea stall.
I honestly have no idea why I wasted my precious hours on reading what he THINKS.
Also, this book won’t tell you why poor don’t kill. Somewhere he wrote it’s because of Indian jails. He could have just written that on the cover and people could have moved on with their lives.
August 13, 2025
Manu Joseph’s Why Don’t the Poor Kill Us? is easily one of my top reads of the year, and perhaps the sharpest book to come out of India this year. Cutting, snarky, and unapologetically irreverent, Joseph offers a rare piece of writing that is an equal-opportunity offender—calling out leftists, rightists, Marxists, socialists, and everyone in between.
Rather than leaning on academic theory or sociological jargon, the book operates from the vantage point of a highly observant journalist who doesn’t hold back. He takes a question many conscientious Indians might have privately pondered—why the poor of India, despite their suffering, don’t rise up violently—and gives it a treatment that is at once biting, thought-provoking, and thoroughly entertaining.
What emerges is a refreshing work of folk psychology—keenly attuned to the absurdities, contradictions, and hypocrisies of Indian public life. Joseph’s prose sparkles with wit and precision, and his observations often land with the force of uncomfortable truths.
It’s not a manifesto, nor is it a sentimental portrait of the “benign” poor. Instead, it’s an unfiltered, razor-sharp lens on Indian society that manages to be as funny as it is unsettling. A must-read for anyone craving honesty in Indian non-fiction
Rather than leaning on academic theory or sociological jargon, the book operates from the vantage point of a highly observant journalist who doesn’t hold back. He takes a question many conscientious Indians might have privately pondered—why the poor of India, despite their suffering, don’t rise up violently—and gives it a treatment that is at once biting, thought-provoking, and thoroughly entertaining.
What emerges is a refreshing work of folk psychology—keenly attuned to the absurdities, contradictions, and hypocrisies of Indian public life. Joseph’s prose sparkles with wit and precision, and his observations often land with the force of uncomfortable truths.
It’s not a manifesto, nor is it a sentimental portrait of the “benign” poor. Instead, it’s an unfiltered, razor-sharp lens on Indian society that manages to be as funny as it is unsettling. A must-read for anyone craving honesty in Indian non-fiction
September 28, 2025
I am not too fond of reading non-fiction but I just couldn’t put this one down. The topic is extremely heavy and its Manu’s writing style and dark humour that makes it so engaging and easy to read.
He brings out several aspects that we just fail to recognise in our every day life. As taxpayers we tend to feel that we subsidise the poor, but its actually the reverse - the poor subsidise us!
The book makes you uncomfortable at several points but I strongly recommend it
He brings out several aspects that we just fail to recognise in our every day life. As taxpayers we tend to feel that we subsidise the poor, but its actually the reverse - the poor subsidise us!
The book makes you uncomfortable at several points but I strongly recommend it
November 29, 2025
Why the Poor Don’t Kill Us? by Manu Joseph is a blistering examination of Indian politics and, by extension, the society that produces it. Joseph argues—often uncomfortably—that in a democracy, our politics merely mirrors the realities we prefer not to confront. If we recoil from what we see, it is often because we are averting our eyes from the ugliness within our own social fabric.
The book is a scathing indictment of India’s political class and the hypocrisies of the upper middle class, written with the sharpness of satire and the relentlessness of someone unwilling to soften any blow. At its best—particularly in the first half—it offers a compelling dissection of how different classes interact, and the contradictions embedded in their behaviors and incentives. These portions are brutal, incisive, and strangely riveting, like watching a slow-motion train wreck you cannot look away from.
Yet the book’s greatest flaw is its own certainty. Joseph writes with a cocksure tone that often flattens nuance, turning his polemic into a kind of condescension toward both the poor and the middle classes he critiques. Inspite of it's various flaws, the book is worth reading for understanding the lack of animosity of the poor towards the richer classes who exploit them in various ways and how the political class understand this well to their benefit.
The book is a scathing indictment of India’s political class and the hypocrisies of the upper middle class, written with the sharpness of satire and the relentlessness of someone unwilling to soften any blow. At its best—particularly in the first half—it offers a compelling dissection of how different classes interact, and the contradictions embedded in their behaviors and incentives. These portions are brutal, incisive, and strangely riveting, like watching a slow-motion train wreck you cannot look away from.
Yet the book’s greatest flaw is its own certainty. Joseph writes with a cocksure tone that often flattens nuance, turning his polemic into a kind of condescension toward both the poor and the middle classes he critiques. Inspite of it's various flaws, the book is worth reading for understanding the lack of animosity of the poor towards the richer classes who exploit them in various ways and how the political class understand this well to their benefit.
October 22, 2025
While it was fun to chuckle and get the opportunity to say "IKR" for the brief 24 hours it took for me to get through it, I still don't know the answer to the title 🤔
November 17, 2025
Number of stars = number of poor people Manu interviewed while writing this book.
The book leans on little to no research, and shows fairly poor analytical thinking. Manu makes sweeping generalizations about a breathtaking array of topics - why the poor are envious of each other, why liberals think the way they do, how white people live, why a professor would teach at JNU, Latin American culture, Indian history etc. Any self-respecting non-fiction author would back these statements up, but Manu doesn't encumber himself with that.
Also, his tone is often that of an older uncle bitter at a younger, newer zeitgeist (look for any reference to "woke culture"). But I guess we all eventually get to that point in our lives.
His best work in this book was its name. Got me to buy it.
The book leans on little to no research, and shows fairly poor analytical thinking. Manu makes sweeping generalizations about a breathtaking array of topics - why the poor are envious of each other, why liberals think the way they do, how white people live, why a professor would teach at JNU, Latin American culture, Indian history etc. Any self-respecting non-fiction author would back these statements up, but Manu doesn't encumber himself with that.
Also, his tone is often that of an older uncle bitter at a younger, newer zeitgeist (look for any reference to "woke culture"). But I guess we all eventually get to that point in our lives.
His best work in this book was its name. Got me to buy it.
October 25, 2025
Why the Poor Don’t Kill Us: The Psychology of Indians by Manu Joseph is a non-fiction book that tries to understand why the poorest Indians don’t revolt violently against the rich and the elites through multiple lenses. I discovered this book because of a reel on Instagram, and everything about it resonated with the state of mind I was in. I also realised it was available on Kindle Unlimited, so I pretty much started reading it that same evening.
So, did the book live up to my expectations?
India has a population of 1.45 billion. This is a country where we have both, two of the richest men in the world, as well as people who subsist on less than $3 a day. Such a vast economic disparity should be cause for concern no? Across the world, when people are ill-treated and discriminated against, it’s only a matter of time before a revolution stirs among the disenfranchised. But not in India. Why not? The poor significantly outnumber the rich. Why then do the rich continue to dominate the lower classes?
This has been a point of much pondering for me ever since I developed class consciousness back in college. Not only was it a wake-up call for me with regard to all the many privileges I have, but also a shocking realisation about the deeply unjust structure of powers that dominate the world’s largest democracy. And yet, no matter how I’ve tried to justify it, rationalise it, or try to figure it out, I’ve failed.
Manu Joseph’s book, while not claiming to solve the enigma, offers more than many possibilities which could somewhat explain the reasoning behind this perpetually backwards class in the pathos-filled puzzle that is Indian society.
I haven’t read any of Manu Joseph’s books, so this was my introduction to his writing. And, I get why he’s so well-loved in the literary circles. His writing has that much-needed flair, which can convey the sharpest of ideas with the right amount of sting and awe.
Continue reading on my blog…
So, did the book live up to my expectations?
India has a population of 1.45 billion. This is a country where we have both, two of the richest men in the world, as well as people who subsist on less than $3 a day. Such a vast economic disparity should be cause for concern no? Across the world, when people are ill-treated and discriminated against, it’s only a matter of time before a revolution stirs among the disenfranchised. But not in India. Why not? The poor significantly outnumber the rich. Why then do the rich continue to dominate the lower classes?
This has been a point of much pondering for me ever since I developed class consciousness back in college. Not only was it a wake-up call for me with regard to all the many privileges I have, but also a shocking realisation about the deeply unjust structure of powers that dominate the world’s largest democracy. And yet, no matter how I’ve tried to justify it, rationalise it, or try to figure it out, I’ve failed.
Manu Joseph’s book, while not claiming to solve the enigma, offers more than many possibilities which could somewhat explain the reasoning behind this perpetually backwards class in the pathos-filled puzzle that is Indian society.
I haven’t read any of Manu Joseph’s books, so this was my introduction to his writing. And, I get why he’s so well-loved in the literary circles. His writing has that much-needed flair, which can convey the sharpest of ideas with the right amount of sting and awe.
Continue reading on my blog…
September 9, 2025
This book is a powerful and unsettling read that grabs you from the very first page. In fact, it's so immediately impactful that it's easy to find yourself needing to pause and take a break after just a few paragraphs. The author's writing is incredibly poignant and thought-provoking, requiring you to sit with certain phrases and ideas to fully grasp their weight. While not an easy read, the style is deeply appreciated for its ability to convey such complex emotions and ideas.
The central theme, a stark look at inequality in India, is conveyed with an honesty that can be both shocking and deeply sad. The book forces the reader to confront their own obliviousness to the struggles of others for basic necessities, leading to a profound sense of unfairness. This is a book that will make you think and will make you feel, with moments that can make you somber or even bring you to tears.
Interestingly, the book's structure feels less like a traditional narrative and more like a series of connected meditations. The chapters don't necessarily follow a clear progression, but this non-linear approach only enhances its impact. It allows each story and idea to stand on its own, contributing to a larger, more complete picture of the societal issues at hand. And despite the heavy subject matter, the book has moments of unexpected levity that can make you laugh.
Ultimately, this is a book that doesn't just inform—it inspires. It sparks a deep desire to "do more" and to take action, even in a small way, to address the profound injustices it lays bare. While there may be ideas you disagree with, the book's core strength is its ability to challenge your perspective and make you think. If you want a closer and more honest look at the realities of inequality, this book is an essential read.
The central theme, a stark look at inequality in India, is conveyed with an honesty that can be both shocking and deeply sad. The book forces the reader to confront their own obliviousness to the struggles of others for basic necessities, leading to a profound sense of unfairness. This is a book that will make you think and will make you feel, with moments that can make you somber or even bring you to tears.
Interestingly, the book's structure feels less like a traditional narrative and more like a series of connected meditations. The chapters don't necessarily follow a clear progression, but this non-linear approach only enhances its impact. It allows each story and idea to stand on its own, contributing to a larger, more complete picture of the societal issues at hand. And despite the heavy subject matter, the book has moments of unexpected levity that can make you laugh.
Ultimately, this is a book that doesn't just inform—it inspires. It sparks a deep desire to "do more" and to take action, even in a small way, to address the profound injustices it lays bare. While there may be ideas you disagree with, the book's core strength is its ability to challenge your perspective and make you think. If you want a closer and more honest look at the realities of inequality, this book is an essential read.
December 5, 2025
Why the Poor Don’t Kill Us: Manu Joseph
My first reading of Manu Joseph, though I saw the movie adaptation of Serious Men (and found the premise interesting but the final outcome seriously lacked merit). The Illicit Happiness of Other People has resided for the last three months on my TBR List. I promise to get around to reading and reviewing it soon.
Manu ’s nonfiction jaunt, Why the Poor Don’t Kill Us, beckoned me with its intriguing name. Intriguing because this very same topic has kept me pondering. Like Manu, I had a lower middle-class upbringing in a PSU milieu, mostly in the forgotten 70s – 80s Malgudi like towns of South India and later in 80s – 90s Mumbai.
A progressively wealthier India brought me social mobility, a series of good career choices and working like a dog for the last 35 years gave me the privilege of a “gated-community life” in a Metro. So, I am viewing the social bowl of noodles that is today’s India with the same set of eyes that Manu views it with.
Running a business that sells a ₹3-crore car nearly every working day also gives me an uncomfortably close view of the robber-baron class extracting life-force from the other 99.999 percent. Politically, my roots are deep Red (Jyoti Basu and the Bengal politburo were regulars at my grandparents' dining table); by marriage I drifted toward Saffron; and like most Indians born poor-ish, my ideological compass ultimately swings toward “Who’s offering the biggest freebie this year?”
So, the question remains: Why the Poor Don’t Kill Us?
The book is less of a cohesive whole, but more a collection of random musings , which the author arranged in some semblance of order. The net result is rather enjoyable. The narrative arrives like a dinner guest who barges in with wild theories, steals all the dessert, and still somehow charms you into forgiving him.
It is a compilation of the author's favourite peeves – class, hypocrisy, elites wrestling other elites, and the mysterious resilience of India’s poor.
And it is entertaining. The early chapters hum along with Manu as the glint-eyed provocateur who believes that the second-best idea is always the best idea. That most revolutions are petty office politics upgraded to national scale. He is cynical, scathingly unforgiving of our “upper middle class” mannerisms and unsparing in his sarcasm shaped equally by current Gurugram privilege and the memory of growing up with very little. Poverty isn’t an abstraction for him; it’s a childhood room whose asbestos roof he hasn’t quite forgotten. This duality gives the book a hidden pulse, a quiet anger he multiplies with snark. The kind that I recall my Malayali and TamBram Maths and Sanskrit teachers reserved for my exam papers.
Sporadically, his writing sparkles with sharp cinematic energy. When he sits inside an Uber on an eight-lane expressway waiting for the driver to finish… let’s call it a roadside yoga session… Manu wonders if this awkward tableau is “culture,” if progress will erase these moments, if poverty itself is India’s invisible scriptwriter. Like George Carlin once did for middle America, Manu holds an unflattering mirror to “upper-middle class” India with their pretentiously Europe themed gated societies in Lower Bandra (Dharavi) or Upper Thane (Bhiwandi). It has strong hints of Arvind Adiga’s flawed, yet enjoyable book The White Tiger.
Later, he describes the film version of the book – complete with Saif Ali Khan and a migrant worker leaping out of the subtext to stab the plot into action. Manu is at his best when he’s weightless, tossing off lines like “envy is a thing between equals” or dissing JNU as a shelter for Arts students “escaping adult life.” My upbringing biased me toward believing that anyone who didn’t study STEM at least until a postgraduate degree was basically illiterate, so I confess these lines hit home.
His fondness for Aadhaar and tech-driven solutions makes sense to me, though waving a flag for Facebook Free Basics to return feels like he briefly lost the map.
Still, as a Manu Joseph rookie, I found this book to be a breezy starter kit. I have not stopped evangelising this book to those friends of mine who have a good sense of humour and a good-natured view of sarcasm at their expense.
Bottom line: Why the Poor Don’t Kill Us is provocative, funny, occasionally infuriating, always readable. Whether you read him out of affection or sheer anthropological fascination, this one will keep you engrossed. This book has whetted my appetite for more Manu and to inveigle more about how the poor view us.
Next stop? I Deliver Parcels in Beijing.
My first reading of Manu Joseph, though I saw the movie adaptation of Serious Men (and found the premise interesting but the final outcome seriously lacked merit). The Illicit Happiness of Other People has resided for the last three months on my TBR List. I promise to get around to reading and reviewing it soon.
Manu ’s nonfiction jaunt, Why the Poor Don’t Kill Us, beckoned me with its intriguing name. Intriguing because this very same topic has kept me pondering. Like Manu, I had a lower middle-class upbringing in a PSU milieu, mostly in the forgotten 70s – 80s Malgudi like towns of South India and later in 80s – 90s Mumbai.
A progressively wealthier India brought me social mobility, a series of good career choices and working like a dog for the last 35 years gave me the privilege of a “gated-community life” in a Metro. So, I am viewing the social bowl of noodles that is today’s India with the same set of eyes that Manu views it with.
Running a business that sells a ₹3-crore car nearly every working day also gives me an uncomfortably close view of the robber-baron class extracting life-force from the other 99.999 percent. Politically, my roots are deep Red (Jyoti Basu and the Bengal politburo were regulars at my grandparents' dining table); by marriage I drifted toward Saffron; and like most Indians born poor-ish, my ideological compass ultimately swings toward “Who’s offering the biggest freebie this year?”
So, the question remains: Why the Poor Don’t Kill Us?
The book is less of a cohesive whole, but more a collection of random musings , which the author arranged in some semblance of order. The net result is rather enjoyable. The narrative arrives like a dinner guest who barges in with wild theories, steals all the dessert, and still somehow charms you into forgiving him.
It is a compilation of the author's favourite peeves – class, hypocrisy, elites wrestling other elites, and the mysterious resilience of India’s poor.
And it is entertaining. The early chapters hum along with Manu as the glint-eyed provocateur who believes that the second-best idea is always the best idea. That most revolutions are petty office politics upgraded to national scale. He is cynical, scathingly unforgiving of our “upper middle class” mannerisms and unsparing in his sarcasm shaped equally by current Gurugram privilege and the memory of growing up with very little. Poverty isn’t an abstraction for him; it’s a childhood room whose asbestos roof he hasn’t quite forgotten. This duality gives the book a hidden pulse, a quiet anger he multiplies with snark. The kind that I recall my Malayali and TamBram Maths and Sanskrit teachers reserved for my exam papers.
Sporadically, his writing sparkles with sharp cinematic energy. When he sits inside an Uber on an eight-lane expressway waiting for the driver to finish… let’s call it a roadside yoga session… Manu wonders if this awkward tableau is “culture,” if progress will erase these moments, if poverty itself is India’s invisible scriptwriter. Like George Carlin once did for middle America, Manu holds an unflattering mirror to “upper-middle class” India with their pretentiously Europe themed gated societies in Lower Bandra (Dharavi) or Upper Thane (Bhiwandi). It has strong hints of Arvind Adiga’s flawed, yet enjoyable book The White Tiger.
Later, he describes the film version of the book – complete with Saif Ali Khan and a migrant worker leaping out of the subtext to stab the plot into action. Manu is at his best when he’s weightless, tossing off lines like “envy is a thing between equals” or dissing JNU as a shelter for Arts students “escaping adult life.” My upbringing biased me toward believing that anyone who didn’t study STEM at least until a postgraduate degree was basically illiterate, so I confess these lines hit home.
His fondness for Aadhaar and tech-driven solutions makes sense to me, though waving a flag for Facebook Free Basics to return feels like he briefly lost the map.
Still, as a Manu Joseph rookie, I found this book to be a breezy starter kit. I have not stopped evangelising this book to those friends of mine who have a good sense of humour and a good-natured view of sarcasm at their expense.
Bottom line: Why the Poor Don’t Kill Us is provocative, funny, occasionally infuriating, always readable. Whether you read him out of affection or sheer anthropological fascination, this one will keep you engrossed. This book has whetted my appetite for more Manu and to inveigle more about how the poor view us.
Next stop? I Deliver Parcels in Beijing.
January 2, 2026
The book is an interesting cultural commentary on contemporary India. It explores the question of why the poor in India do not resort to violence against the wealthy, even when they inhabit the same spaces. This question is intriguing because it reflects cultural norms and the interconnected lives of the rich and the poor.
However, one downside, especially from an academic perspective, is that the book lacks citations and often feels like it’s rambling. While I appreciate that not every book needs to be factually dense, the certainty of the author’s position can come across as a bit one-sided. The writing style is casual, and the chapters don’t always connect cohesively, which can make it feel disjointed.
In terms of the target audience, the book seems aimed at the upper-middle class, and there’s a sense of whitewashing the guilt of that demographic. While it’s an engaging read, it doesn’t offer groundbreaking revelations but rather puts existing thoughts into words for a certain audience
However, one downside, especially from an academic perspective, is that the book lacks citations and often feels like it’s rambling. While I appreciate that not every book needs to be factually dense, the certainty of the author’s position can come across as a bit one-sided. The writing style is casual, and the chapters don’t always connect cohesively, which can make it feel disjointed.
In terms of the target audience, the book seems aimed at the upper-middle class, and there’s a sense of whitewashing the guilt of that demographic. While it’s an engaging read, it doesn’t offer groundbreaking revelations but rather puts existing thoughts into words for a certain audience
November 13, 2025
Manu Joseph has this unnerving talent for staring directly at the things we politely blink past. Why the Poor Don’t Kill Us is one of those books that slips under your skin, or chips at your scabs, if you will - not because it’s sentimental, but because it refuses to be.
Manu doesn’t romanticise the poor. Neither does he villainise them. He argues that India’s poor are unique - poor inside one of the world’s most unequal societies, surrounded by wealth they can see but never touch.
One of his sharpest insights, that made me pause and think is that the chaos and ugliness of Indian cities almost comforts the poor. It signals that the country still belongs to them too, that it hasn’t been manicured solely for the rich.
This isn’t just a book about poverty. It’s a book about the Indian psyche: our credential obsession (yes, the absurd degree-worship), our quiet hierarchies, our ability to endure the unendurable.
Smart, uncomfortable, and deeply readable.
4/5 ⭐️
Manu doesn’t romanticise the poor. Neither does he villainise them. He argues that India’s poor are unique - poor inside one of the world’s most unequal societies, surrounded by wealth they can see but never touch.
One of his sharpest insights, that made me pause and think is that the chaos and ugliness of Indian cities almost comforts the poor. It signals that the country still belongs to them too, that it hasn’t been manicured solely for the rich.
This isn’t just a book about poverty. It’s a book about the Indian psyche: our credential obsession (yes, the absurd degree-worship), our quiet hierarchies, our ability to endure the unendurable.
Smart, uncomfortable, and deeply readable.
4/5 ⭐️
September 3, 2025
Manu Joseph , the original and provocative novelist, saves these adjectives for reviewers to describe him in his first work of non-fiction as well. He takes up the burning topic of the poor and inequality , asks some disturbing questions and answers them in his typical irreverent and witty manner. No one's hypocrisy (sample : "And the disdain that Arundhati Roy has for Mukesh Ambani's giant home - wouldn't a malnourished tribal feel the same about Roy's affluent home in Delhi's prime Jor Bagh? ") is spared in his inimitable manner. The author's style may infuriate many but that is exactly his aim. He concludes : "As long as there are the rich, there will be the poor". As long as there is hypocrisy in this society, Manu will keep waging such verbal battles.
December 14, 2025
It feels like being talked at by an uncle who is getting progressively drunker, occasionally sharp, often incoherent. The observations are valid, but it rings hollow when the author, who benefits from the very privileges he critiques, tries to distance himself from the upper-class rung just to deliver this commentary.
September 20, 2025
"Can something as pervasive as inequality be solved? Or is inequality the most natural consequence of human nature? Actually, what the hell is equality?"
A book that leaves you with information and lots of questions, and maybe not too many answers. Interesting read, and it left me with doubts rather than assurances, which I feel is always the better outcome of a non-fiction. I'd recommend it.
A book that leaves you with information and lots of questions, and maybe not too many answers. Interesting read, and it left me with doubts rather than assurances, which I feel is always the better outcome of a non-fiction. I'd recommend it.
December 23, 2025
Manu remains a delight, annoying liberals and the right wing with admirable consistency. While many books confuse length with depth, this one does the opposite: short, sharp, and packed with ideas. You close it not exhausted, but wanting more.
September 14, 2025
Insightful read. It tells why an uneasy peace exists between the haves and have nots in India.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 113 reviews