The politics of denial: When defeat becomes distrust

India has just concluded another extraordinary electoral exercise. Across four states and a Union Territory, millions voted in sweltering heat, long queues, crowded urban booths, remote villages, insurgency-prone districts, and difficult terrains. Women voters turned out in unprecedented numbers. Participation rates touched historic highs. By any democratic measure, this should have been a moment of collective pride. Instead, it has rapidly degenerated into a familiar ritual of accusation.

Political parties that face electoral defeat have once again reached for a well-worn political script: blame the Election Commission of India (ECI), allege manipulation, claim votes were stolen, and increasingly, suggest that entire elections have been subverted. The irony, of course, is glaring. The very same ECI conducted elections in states where these very parties emerged victorious. There, the institution was evidently impartial, credible, and constitutional. Elsewhere, it became compromised, partisan, and suspect. What is sauce for the goose, it appears, is not sauce for the gander.

This selective faith in democratic institutions is deeply corrosive. The recent spectacle of a defeated chief minister refusing to accept the verdict, refusing to resign, marks a troubling descent in democratic conduct. The rhetoric of victimhood has replaced the responsibility of introspection. Electoral setbacks are increasingly explained not through political misjudgement, organisational failure, weak governance, or loss of public trust, but through conspiracy theories and institutional delegitimisation. This trend carries grave consequences.

Constitutional bodies derive their authority not from force, but from public trust. Every reckless allegation chips away at that trust. The ECI is not an ordinary institution. It is one of the great achievements of the Indian republic – painstakingly built over decades through administrative discipline, constitutional restraint, and public confidence.

When India became independent, many Western observers doubted whether universal adult franchise could survive in a poor, diverse, largely illiterate nation of continental proportions. Yet, Jawaharlal Nehru, Sardar Patel, B R Ambedkar, Rajendra Prasad, and the other architects of the republic took an audacious leap of faith. They trusted the Indian people before India had even learned to trust itself. That faith was vindicated.

Under the stewardship of India’s first Chief Election Commissioner, Sukumar Sen, the country conducted the first general election of 1951-52 – an exercise unparalleled in human history. Ballot boxes were transported by bullock carts, boats, mules, and sometimes even elephants. Electoral rolls had to be prepared for hundreds of millions, many of whom had never before participated in any political process. Yet the election succeeded magnificently.

Over the decades, the ECI evolved into one of the most respected electoral institutions in the world. India’s elections became admired not merely for their scale, but for their resilience, efficiency, and legitimacy. Governments fell. Powerful leaders lost. Opposition parties rose to power repeatedly through the ballot box. The peaceful transfer of power became routine – the surest sign of democratic maturity. This legacy was not built overnight. Nor can it survive endless political assault.

Criticism of institutions is legitimate in a democracy. Democratic institutions must always remain open to scrutiny and reform, but scrutiny without evidence degenerates into delegitimisation. Today, allegations are often made first and substantiated never. Defeat automatically becomes proof of fraud. The courts are approached, judgments are delivered, and when those judgments do not align with political expectations, even the judiciary is subtly cast under suspicion. This is not democratic vigilance. It is deliberate delegitimisation.

A standout feature in the recent elections came from West Bengal. For perhaps the first time in many years, elections in several areas were widely perceived as orderly, relatively peaceful, and free from the fear that has often accompanied polling in the state. Citizens voted without intimidation, thanks to the ECI’s efforts. That must be celebrated across party lines as a victory for democracy itself. Ironically, even peaceful conduct has become grounds for suspicion because the electoral verdict proves inconvenient.

If citizens are repeatedly told that elections are stolen, institutions are compromised, and mandates are fraudulent, public faith in democracy begins to weaken. Cynicism replaces participation. Distrust replaces legitimacy. The loser’s refusal to concede eventually becomes the voter’s refusal to believe. And no democracy can endure for long in such an atmosphere.

India’s democratic strength does not lie in the certainty that one’s preferred party will win. It lies in the confidence that elections are fundamentally fair, that institutions remain constitutional, and that the people’s verdict will be honoured. Democracies mature not when political actors celebrate victory, but when they accept defeat with dignity.

The republic entrusted us with universal suffrage before we were prosperous, educated, or unified. The least we owe that republic is institutional seriousness and democratic restraint. We cannot demand faith from citizens while political leaders themselves display none. If India is to remain not merely the world’s largest democracy, but one of its most enduring, this politics of perpetual delegitimisation must stop.

The writer is a former civil servant who enjoys traversing the myriad spaces of ideas, thinkers, and books.

Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.