Democracy on a Short Leash: How the BJP Keeps Power in the Family
The Hindu’s August 9th editorial nods politely to Rahul
Gandhi’s “voter list fraud” allegations, but it tiptoes around the real culprit
— the rotting foundation of India’s democratic architecture. This isn’t just
about flawed lists; it’s about a ruling party that has weaponised appointments,
bent laws, and turned neutral constitutional offices into extensions of its own
party office.
Let’s start with the Election Commissioners. In a fair
system, the man should command the confidence of the whole political spectrum.
But this government decided such lofty ideals were for sissies. When the
Supreme Court suggested a balanced selection committee, the BJP tossed the idea
into the dustbin and wrote a new law to keep total control. Result? A
Commission that looks like an old boys’ club of retired babus from the Amit
Shah finishing school.
Gyanesh Kumar, the CEC, is an Amit Shah alumnus from both
the Home and Cooperatives ministries. His seat on the Shri Ram Janmabhoomi
Teerth Kshetra Trust is not exactly a masterclass in neutrality. Sukhbir Singh
Sandhu, the token minority face, was Chief Secretary of Uttarakhand under BJP
rule. Vivek Joshi, the other Election Commissioner, fits the same mould. These
are not independent referees; they’re cheerleaders with a whistle.
This habit of keeping “our people” in place doesn’t stop at
Nirvachan Sadan. Take Ajay Kumar Bhalla, Home Secretary, five years in
the job with four extensions — practically a tenant in Amit Shah’s ministry —
before being gifted the governorship of Manipur. Rajiv Gauba, Cabinet
Secretary, smashed longevity records with four extensions, and is now roosting
in NITI Aayog. His predecessor, PK Sinha, got three. Shaktikanta Das
danced from demonetisation days into the RBI Governor’s chair (with one full
extension), and then into the PM’s Principal Secretary’s office.
The armed forces haven’t been spared either. Late General
Bipin Rawat’s extension / elevation as Chief of Defence Staff broke norms, and after his
tragic death, the government struggled for over six months to find a successor,
an awkward silence that spoke volumes.
The governors, meanwhile, have become the party’s advance
infantry. In BJP states, they are invisible. In opposition states, they are
front-page regulars: Jagdeep Dhankhar in Bengal, R.N. Ravi in
Tamil Nadu, Arif Mohammad Khan in Kerala — all acting like schoolmasters
dealing with truant children. Delhi saw the law rewritten to turn the Lt
Governor into the elected CM’s boss. Najeeb Jung made AAP’s life
miserable; in Kashmir, Manoj Sinha performs the same role with Omar
Abdullah.
The crossover between bureaucracy and party politics has now
reached the point of absurdity. A.K. Sharma, a Gujarat cadre IAS officer and
long-time Modi lieutenant, takes voluntary retirement, joins the BJP within
days, and becomes an MLC in Uttar Pradesh. No wonder the V-Dem Institute
has politely reclassified India as an “electoral autocracy,” with its Liberal
Democracy Index plunging from 0.57 in 2013 to 0.34 by 2020.
Once upon a time, there were CECs with teeth. T.N. Seshan
struck fear into politicians by enforcing the Model Code like a hanging judge.
Even his quieter successor, M.S. Gill, banned Bal Thackeray from
voting for six years for communal hate speech — though he later admitted he
feared the man. Compare that to today’s Election Commission, which might form a
“committee to look into the matter” and let the election slip by.
This, is the My Man, My Orders syndrome, where-ever,
whenever, however possible. Everywhere you look, from governors to generals,
from secretaries to ECs, the same faces circulate, extended, recycled, and
rewarded.
Checks and balances are for not just for textbooks. In a
functioning system, the man at the top matters— so does the path s/he took to
get there. Right now, that path runs through the BJP’s private corridors, and
Indian democracy is left gasping for air.
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