Why Do Voters Bother?

For three elections in a row, Punjab has seen the same set of politicians make the same promises and deliver the same disappointments. Yet, the voting percentage continues to rise

PUNJAB ~ witnessed my first Assembly election in Punjab in 2002, three years after I had been based in Punjab as a reporter. The choice before the state was between Amarinder Singh as leader of the Congress and Parkash Singh Badal as leader of the Akali Dal. Ten years later, it is as if the same election has just been played out again.

It is not just the personalities who are the same, so is the rhetoric. What does not get addressed, then or now, are the more pressing long-term issues—the lack of urban and rural infrastructure, shortage of power, depletion of groundwater as a result of growing paddy, and the deteriorating situation of the marginal farmer. Yet, the voting percentage has gone up from roughly 65 in 2002, to 74 or so in 2007, to nearly 80 in the polls just held, the highest ever. This seems to have happened in tandem with the growth in election spending despite stringent efforts by the Election Commission (EC).

In the course of the 2002 election, a person could pick up a bottle of whisky from each serious candidate in lieu of a vote; now it seems it’s possible to get as many as six bottles for a vote. No wonder the EC is left with 700,000 seized bottles of liquor at the end of polling. Vernacular newspapers were then soliciting money for election coverage; the process has now been formalised despite the noise over paid news, and candidates in the recent campaign were offered packages ranging from Rs 5 lakh to Rs 15 lakh calibrated by varying levels of favourable coverage. Such expenditure has ensured that only a candidate with a great amount of personal wealth can actually be a serious contender. Again, it’s no wonder that 65 per cent of the state’s candidates had declared personal wealth levels of over Rs 1 crore.

This has meant that class—of course, in addition to caste—has come to play a huge role. About 60 per cent of Punjab’s population is Sikh. Most are Jatt Sikhs. Both numerically and in terms of resources (Jatts own almost all the land in the state), this sub-community dominates Punjab. This inevitably means the Chief Minister has to be a Sikh, in particular a Jatt Sikh. Increased electoral expenditure has further meant that only land-owning, well-to-do Jatts are in the fray. Both Badal and Amarinder belong to this community, as does Manpreet, Badal’s nephew, who has floated a party of his own.

Jatts with small landholdings, who have been traditional Akali Dal supporters and were the main force behind the Khalistan movement, do not find their group interests represented in electoral politics. This is also true of a significant section of Punjab’s Dalits. Despite comprising 29 per cent of the state’s population, the highest proportion anywhere in India, they do not have a party that represents them across the state. The problem in part is because of the BSP’s inability to become a significant player—thanks to the late Kanshi Ram’s constant desire to create instability by changing alliances and Mayawati’s personal insecurities that have driven prominent Dalit leaders away from the party—and in part because Dalits, unlike Jatts, do not form a coherent community and are subdivided themselves along religious and subcaste lines.

The urban voter, largely Hindu, is left to choose between the BJP and the Congress. This is the voter who has been decisive in government formation. In 1997, the BJP won 19 of the 22 seats it contested in alliance with the Akali Dal, which came to power; in 2002, when this number dropped to 3 out of 23, the Congress came to power; and in 2007, when it rose again to 19 out of 23, the BJP-Akali alliance returned to power. Yet, this urban voter’s interests just do not figure in public policy, which is directly aimed at perpetuating a host of benefits accorded to rich Jatt farmers, whether it is the Congress or Akali Dal ruling at Chandigarh.

Such an analysis would indicate that there is no larger reason for much of the electorate to look forward to the outcome of these polls. But, as we had argued in Open shortly after the election in West Bengal that brought Mamata Banerjee to power last year, the voter votes not for an idea or ideology but for the possibility of individual benefit. This benefit could be anything that is an improvement over the current situation. So the urban voter acts largely out of desperation, voting out the government in power, even as the rural voter searches for a candidate who can promise informal access to the police and revenue administration, the only kind of power that counts in rural Punjab. The marginalised Jatt and the Dalit, meanwhile, are voters who turn to religious deras to mediate their access to power, which is why these mattered so much during the campaign

The voting percentage in Punjab then is an indication of two disparate factors, as is evident in the fact that while the BJP- contested seats have been oscillating so drastically, the Akali Dal has maintained a steady hold on its largely Jatt constituency —the party won 41 out of 92 seats in 1997 and achieved power; it won 41 out of 92 seats again in 2002 but lost power; and then won 49 of 93 seats in 2007 and returned to power.

Such a democracy is suited to fulfilling certain aspirations of the people: it responds to short-term concerns, and balances the access to power of varied groups. Given the demographic profile of Punjab, however, it fails to deliver the kind of partial emancipation that has come to those deprived of power in Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, where it is now impossible to imagine representatives of a single caste ruling the state in perpetuity.

What though is a consistent feature of the nature of Indian democracy, irrespective of the specific demographics of the state, is the voter’s calculation of individual benefit. It precludes the kind of long- term policymaking that Punjab so desperately requires. We often blame this on the nature of our leadership, but that is only a symptom.

Currently, the country operates through a parallel system of patronage and power controlled by politicians that largely bypasses the normal functioning of an administration. A few simple mechanisms would greatly expand the voter’s vision. If indeed we were able to enact an effective grievance redressal legislation that promises impartial delivery of services by the police and revenue administration, it would take away much of a politician’s ability to extend patronage.

The problem, though, is that an effective piece of legislation is exactly the kind of long-term vision that our democracy does not reward.

About The Author

Hartosh Singh Bal