From controversial voter roll revisions to protests by a younger generation, India faces a fundamental democratic question: Can electoral victory alone sustain political legitimacy when growing numbers of citizens feel unheard by the institutions governing them? An analysis from an Indian perspective by Sujit Narayan Chattopadhyay.
There is a comfortable misconception in political life that is as enduring as it is dangerous: the belief that winning an election or holding constitutional office secures a government’s authority once and for all. Leaders often act as though political legitimacy were a fixed asset — a sum deposited into a bank account on election day, from which they can draw interest for years without further effort. They point to legislative majorities, administrative procedures and constitutional mandates as self-evident proofs of their right to govern.
Yet India’s present political landscape raises questions that extend far beyond the outcome of individual elections. From the controversy surrounding the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls to the opposition’s confrontation with the Election Commission and the emergence of the youth-led Cockroach Janta Party (CJP) movement, a fundamental question is returning to the centre of public life: Who holds power accountable when the institutions exercising it lose the confidence of those they govern?
The SIR exercise illustrates this dilemma particularly clearly. The Election Commission of India maintains that revising electoral rolls is necessary to preserve their accuracy by removing duplicate, deceased or otherwise ineligible entries. Such an administrative responsibility is legitimate and necessary in any functioning democracy.
Yet the scale of voter deletions, concerns about procedural safeguards and allegations of irregularities have generated considerable controversy.
In October 2026, leaders of the opposition INDIA alliance approached the Supreme Court, seeking scrutiny of the Election Commission’s decision-making procedures, access to relevant records and an independent examination of voter deletions. The Commission rejected allegations of improper conduct and defended its procedures.
The controversy therefore extends beyond the technical administration of elections. It concerns the relationship between the state and the citizen. When a person’s political participation depends upon an administrative determination, the institution making that determination bears an especially demanding obligation to explain its actions and provide effective remedies against error.
The right to vote must not become a privilege that citizens are repeatedly required to prove they deserve.
This question has particular resonance in West Bengal, where the Bharatiya Janata Party’s victory in the 2026 Assembly elections ended fifteen years of government under Mamata Banerjee’s Trinamool Congress. The result demonstrated the capacity of electoral democracy to produce a substantial transfer of political power. Yet it also unfolded amid disputes over the revision of electoral rolls and the exclusion of voters.
The political significance of these developments should not be reduced to a contest between the BJP and its opponents. Electoral victory confers a constitutional mandate, but it does not eliminate the responsibility to address concerns about the fairness of the processes through which that mandate is obtained.
Equally, opposition parties must do more than question electoral outcomes. They must demonstrate that their defence of democratic institutions is grounded in consistent principles rather than immediate political advantage.
A different expression of political dissatisfaction has emerged from India’s younger generation. The Cockroach Janta Party (CJP), initially conceived as an exercise in political satire, developed into a protest movement against examination irregularities, unemployment and perceived institutional indifference. Its demonstrations during the summer of 2026 reflected frustrations that extended beyond any single minister or political party.
The movement’s unusual name should not obscure the seriousness of its underlying message. Young Indians who have invested years in education and professional preparation increasingly question whether the institutions governing their lives are prepared to recognise their aspirations and grievances. The resignation of Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan in July, following weeks of protest, demonstrated that organised public pressure can still compel a political response.
The significance of such movements is not necessarily that they will replace established parties or overturn India’s political order. Rather, they reveal a widening distance between formal political representation and the lived experience of citizens who feel excluded from meaningful influence.
In political philosophy, this relationship can be understood through the concept of ethical reciprocity. Stripped of academic terminology, it describes a fundamental requirement of democratic life: the mutual recognition of obligations between political actors whose power is structurally unequal.
The state and the individual citizen do not meet as equals. The state commands the machinery of governance, exercises coercive authority and determines the administrative conditions under which political participation takes place. The citizen, by contrast, possesses constitutional rights, a political voice and the capacity to participate in collective democratic action.
Because this imbalance is inherent in political organisation, reciprocity cannot mean an identical exchange of duties. It demands differentiated responsibility: the greater an institution’s power to shape human lives, the heavier its obligation to justify its decisions, remain transparent and respond to legitimate grievances.
When this relational circuit breaks down, an ethical asymmetry develops. Administrative authority begins to substitute for democratic engagement. Citizens are expected to obey laws, comply with regulations and accept institutional decisions, while their demands for explanation are treated as inconveniences or challenges to authority.
India’s increasingly contentious political environment also raises questions extending beyond electoral administration. Religious polarisation and the political mobilisation of communal identities test whether democratic institutions can maintain equal regard for citizens irrespective of their religious or social backgrounds.
Majority rule is an essential feature of parliamentary democracy, but it cannot by itself define the moral limits of democratic government.
A constitutional republic must protect not only the authority of the majority to govern, but also the standing of minorities, dissenters and political opponents as equal participants in public life.
These responsibilities apply to every political formation. The BJP, the Congress, regional parties and emerging protest movements may differ profoundly in their political objectives, but none can claim exemption from the democratic obligation to remain answerable to the people.
The opposition cannot demand accountability from those in office while neglecting it within its own institutions. Nor can a government invoke its electoral mandate as a sufficient answer to every criticism.
The danger arises when political competition becomes so absorbed in the acquisition and preservation of power that the citizen gradually disappears from view. People become electoral constituencies, demographic categories, administrative records or instruments of political mobilisation rather than individuals possessing equal political dignity.
This is the deeper meaning of the present crisis of confidence.
Democracy is not sustained by elections alone, nor is it necessarily destroyed by disagreement, protest or institutional conflict. Indeed, public dissent can be evidence of a society’s continuing democratic vitality. The decisive question is how institutions respond when their authority is challenged.
A resilient democracy proves its strength not by claiming infallibility or interpreting criticism as disloyalty, but by its willingness to explain decisions, acknowledge errors and correct injustices.
Where institutions recognise the political standing of citizens and respond transparently to legitimate grievances, unequal political power can coexist with genuine democratic consent.
For India, a republic whose extraordinary social, religious and linguistic diversity has long tested the possibilities of democratic coexistence, this principle carries particular importance.
Its democratic future cannot be measured solely through electoral victories, parliamentary arithmetic or administrative efficiency. It must also be judged by the quality of the relationship between those who govern and those in whose name they exercise authority.
Political legitimacy is never permanently secured. It is renewed — or diminished — through the everyday conduct of power.
The ultimate question is therefore not simply who governs India, but whether those who govern remain willing to answer to the people.
This column draws on the author’s broader theoretical work on ethical reciprocity and political legitimacy. The full academic paper, “Ethical Reciprocity and Political Legitimacy: A Relational Theory of Individuals, Society, and Political Institutions,” was published in the International Journal for Multidisciplinary Research (IJFMR), Volume 8, Issue 5 (2026).
Full paper: https://www.ijfmr.com/papers/2026/5/90618.pdf
