The Last Twelve Years: How India’s Democratic Institutions Were Weakened
The Last Twelve Years: How India’s
Democratic Institutions Were Weakened
In the coming articles, it is
necessary to examine the last twelve years of governance in India, not as a
political rivalry, but as an examination of what happens when power is no
longer restrained by institutions. Democracies do not usually collapse in a
single dramatic moment. They weaken slowly, through fear, capture, and
normalization of abuse.
Before 2014, most people in India
believed that the system, though imperfect, still worked to some extent. Courts
were slow and often inefficient, but there was still a belief that justice
could be sought. Institutions like the Election Commission of India, the
Enforcement Directorate, the Central Bureau of Investigation, and the Income
Tax Department were not beyond criticism, but they were not openly viewed as
political weapons. When irregularities such as ballot box theft occurred in
certain polling booths, the Election Commission intervened, corrected the
process, and restored credibility. There was no widespread public belief that
the Election Commission itself was corrupt or acting in direct coordination
with the ruling government.
Before the Bharatiya Janata Party
came to power, investigative agencies were not routinely unleashed against
opposition leaders at the explicit direction of the central government. The ED,
IT, and CBI were not systematically used to intimidate, coerce, or fracture
opposition parties in the states to bring down elected governments. Laws such
as the PMLA or mechanisms related to citizenship were not used to keep
opposition leaders in prison for extended periods without trial in the middle
of election cycles. I do not recall a single instance where prominent
opposition leaders were jailed merely based on a statement, without an FIR, and
then kept behind bars indefinitely to tilt electoral outcomes.
This does not mean corruption did
not exist before 2014. It certainly did. But there was still fear of the
system. There was fear of courts, fear of public exposure, fear of
institutional consequences. Corruption operated within limits because the
system, however flawed, could still push back. After 2014, that fear has
largely disappeared, not because corruption vanished, but because the system
itself has been captured. Today, corruption no longer fears the courts, because
the courts themselves are increasingly seen as compromised. When hundreds of
millions of rupees are reportedly found inside the residence of a sitting judge
after a fire, and the state machinery moves swiftly not to demand
accountability but to protect that judge, the message becomes unmistakably
clear. This government does not merely tolerate corruption. It shields it. It
rewards it. It institutionalizes it.
This pattern is consistent.
Corrupt leaders from opposition parties are harassed, investigated, threatened,
and jailed until the moment they defect and join the BJP. Once they do,
investigations slow down, cases weaken, agencies retreat, and protection follows.
Corruption is not punished; it is absorbed. Loyalty, not integrity, becomes the
currency of survival.
The BJP’s rise was powered by
promises that appealed deeply to the public. Even many lifelong supporters of
the Indian National Congress were willing to give the new government a chance.
The idea that a common man would lead the nation and cleanse it of corruption
was powerful. The anger against corruption during the Congress era was real and
justified.
Corruption did rise during
Congress rule, especially after economic liberalization, when India’s software
and services industries expanded and foreign capital began flowing into the
country in large volumes starting in the early 1990s. However, blaming the
Gandhi family alone for this corruption was always a simplistic narrative. Manmohan
Singh was personally honest and competent, but he was not a politically strong
leader. He governed without an absolute majority and relied on coalition
partners. The fear of losing power led his government to tolerate corruption
rather than confront it. The Gandhi family held influence within the party, but
they did not occupy executive positions from which they could directly control
the machinery of the state. Importantly, those accused of corruption during
this period did not enjoy open protection. Many withdrew from public life,
faced media scrutiny, and appeared before courts, even if justice was slow.
The Anna Hazare movement could
have been defeated if the Congress government had shown political courage and
aggressively pushed for a strong anti-corruption law, forcing the opposition to
publicly oppose it. That did not happen. Fear prevailed. Fear that deeper
scrutiny would expose uncomfortable truths across the political spectrum. That
hesitation proved disastrous.
In 2013, when Congress supported
the Aam Aadmi Party in forming a government in Delhi, the impact was immediate.
In just 49 days, AAP demonstrated that honest governance was possible, that
swift action could be taken, and that public welfare did not require endless
excuses. This gave people hope. That hope, combined with the BJP’s promises,
pushed voters to hand the BJP a clear majority in 2014, something India had not
seen in nearly 22 years. All previous governments had depended on coalitions.
Before 2014, the media questioned
the government aggressively, and the government responded. Press conferences
were routine. Ministers were answerable. After 2014, the relationship between
power and the press fundamentally changed. The BJP consolidated control by
reshaping the national conversation. Repeated messaging around Hindutva and
hostility toward Muslims dominated television debates. Instead of questioning
policy failures, unemployment, economic distress, or institutional decay, the
media became obsessed with selectively rewriting history, focusing on medieval
rulers while carefully avoiding discussion of British colonialism, where the
ideological ancestors of the ruling establishment had little moral ground to
stand on.
Kashmir was blamed entirely on Jawaharlal
Nehru, ignoring the historical reality that partition and early military
decisions were deeply shaped by British interests. Claims that Sardar
Vallabhbhai Patel should have been India’s first elected Prime Minister ignore
the simple fact that he passed away before the first general election. These
narratives were not historical debates; they were distractions.
The real objective was not to
build a stronger India, but to take complete control of India by capturing its
institutions. Taxpayer money was funneled toward businesses owned by close
allies of the ruling party, creating enormous financial power that could
influence media, bureaucracy, regulators, and even the judiciary. Public assets
built over decades were sold to a small circle of private corporations, many
with roots in Gujarat. Now, discussions even include transferring sensitive
infrastructure such as nuclear power generation to private hands.
The Congress, despite its
failures, believed in an India for all Indians. The BJP increasingly projects
an India for a particular religious identity, rooted in ideas drawn from
Manusmriti, where inequality is normalized as destiny, poverty is explained as
karma, and wealth is moralized as divine reward.
Looting did not begin in 2014,
but earlier looters feared the system. Today’s looters do not, because they
control the system. Courts, agencies, media, and institutions that were once
safeguards are now instruments. If Indians do not recognize this reality soon,
the country risks repeating a familiar historical pattern, where power
concentrates, accountability disappears, and the public becomes the silent
victim, much like during colonial rule.
Democracy survives not through
slogans or majorities, but through institutions strong enough to restrain
power. When those institutions fall, recovery is slow, painful, and uncertain.
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