A Hunger Strike Cannot Cast a Vote
Parliament reflects the political choices made in constituencies across the country.
Some man from Ladakh is fasting somewhere in Delhi because the paper for a national-level medical examination was leaked.
This is apparently not his first hunger strike. I suppose he has still not learned his lesson.
About twenty-five years ago, I asked my uncle what had happened to his Uttar Pradesh Public Service Commission examination. He replied, “The paper was leaked, the results were upheld, and a case concerning the matter is still pending before the Allahabad High Court.”
So paper leaks are clearly not a recent problem.
And nothing appears to have improved since then. If anything, things have become worse.
The question I am asking is not a political one.
Why do these people think their voices will lead to change now, when similar voices have been raised for decades without producing any meaningful result? What do they believe has changed?
It does not even matter what those voices are saying. What matters is whether there is any reason to believe that the system has suddenly become capable of listening.
The problem may not lie entirely with the machinery of the state. The problem may lie with the approach.
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I keep hearing that millions of people are involved in this movement. What does that even mean? Twelve and a half million people amount to roughly one percent of India’s population. How many of them vote? How many examine the candidates in their constituencies before voting?
With millions of supporters, they are planning a revolution over the leaking of a medical entrance examination in a country where half the population already considers itself an expert in homeopathy and Ayurveda — good luck with that.
This is a democracy. Who exactly are we protesting against? Who elected these parliamentarians?
In Uttar Pradesh, twenty or thirty candidates may contest a single constituency. I do not know whether the number is similar in other states. Yet Indian voters often seem unable to identify even one decent candidate among them. We repeatedly choose on the basis of caste, religion, surname, party loyalty, community pressure, or inherited prejudice — and then protest against the people we ourselves placed in power.
Perhaps the man from Ladakh should end his fast, recover his health, and begin a mass movement to teach people how to vote on the basis of merit. Nothing more ambitious may be necessary.
By merit, I do not mean that every elected representative must possess a doctorate or speak polished English. A person who cuts grass on a farm may be a perfectly worthy candidate. What matters is that they are honest, hardworking, sensible, and committed to the public good. Merit is not determined by the social status of one’s occupation, but by the honesty, dedication, and selflessness with which one performs it.
Intelligent, rational, and conscientious representatives may not agree on everything. They may come from entirely different ideological traditions. That is not a problem. People of integrity can disagree and still find a way forward.
One nationwide movement is needed: one that travels across the length and breadth of the country carrying a single, categorical message. If people believe that the political class is responsible for the problems they face, they must also recognize that they themselves elect that political class. Their vote is not separate from the consequences they later suffer. It is one of their causes.
The movement would not ask for anything. It would make no demands of the government, the Election Commission, political parties, or voters. It would not endorse candidates, prescribe voting choices, interrogate citizens, or attempt to educate them on every political issue. That responsibility belongs to the system, particularly its educational and electoral institutions.
The movement would have a much narrower purpose: to make one fact impossible to ignore. In a democracy, citizens are not merely victims of the political class. They are also the people who select it. When voters choose on the basis of caste, religion, surname, fear, inherited loyalty, or prejudice, they bear direct responsibility for the political consequences of that choice.
Those who do not believe they have sufficient information or awareness to vote responsibly need not vote for any candidate. An uninformed vote is not automatically more virtuous than abstention. But simply staying at home communicates nothing beyond absence. A voter who wishes to reject every candidate should formally record that rejection at the polling booth.
No system can consistently produce good governance when voters repeatedly reward dishonesty, incompetence, sectarianism, and inherited privilege.
Perhaps the real movement India needs is not another protest against those in power, but a movement that teaches people to take responsibility for the power they possess.
