Opposition parties and activists protested in New Delhi demanding the chief election commissioner resign. The movement follows the Election Commission’s Special Intensive Revision, which removed 130 million names from voter rolls. Critics say the process is opaque and burdens poor citizens, marking a shift from India’s tradition of inclusive voting.
The franchise is being recast as a privilege citizens must repeatedly prove they deserve
The author is a senior fellow at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace and is writing a book on India's electoral democracy
A democracy that once went looking for voters is increasingly demanding that voters prove they belong. That reversal is at the heart of a growing political confrontation in India.
In recent days, opposition parties and civil society activists have taken to New Delhi's streets demanding the resignation of the country's chief election commissioner. The mobilisation has been catalysed by the Cockroach Janata Party (CJP), an upstart Gen Z movement whose earlier protests over exam fraud forced the resignation of India's higher education minister.
At the heart of the current protests lies the Special Intensive Revision (SIR), a nationwide overhaul of voter rolls launched last year by the Election Commission of India, ostensibly to remove ineligible voters, including alleged non-citizens often labelled "infiltrators" by the government. To date, more than 130mn names have been removed from draft voter rolls.
Many reflect deaths, migration or duplicate registrations, while others have been reversed. Critics say the exercise is opaque and especially burdensome for disadvantaged voters who may lack basic documentation. How many eligible voters have been wrongfully excluded is unclear.
After gaining independence from the British in 1947, India distinguished itself by extending the franchise to all adult citizens regardless of wealth, literacy or social standing. But its founders understood that granting the vote meant little without ensuring citizens could exercise it. Indeed, India began preparing its first electoral rolls before its 1950 constitution came into force.
The constitution established a powerful, centralised Election Commission that assumed responsibility for enrolling every eligible voter, regularly conducting house-to-house surveys spanning glaciers, deserts and jungles. In contrast to many established democracies, where registration has historically been dependent on individual initiative, in India the state assumed the burden.
Maintaining accurate electoral rolls in any democracy is essential. Election authorities carry a dual responsibility: they must simultaneously prevent ineligible individuals from voting while ensuring eligible citizens are not excluded. When these come into tension, India historically prioritised widening the electorate.
Under the SIR, even Indians who have voted in numerous past elections are being asked to prove their citizenship. This is a striking reversal of India's founding electoral bargain: the state is increasingly shifting the burden of establishing eligibility to voters. The demands are especially problematic because India has no universal document establishing citizenship. A tiny share of Indians holds passports, and while nearly all possess Aadhaar, a unique biometric ID number, the government recognises it as proof of identity, not citizenship. Predictably, the challenge of proving citizenship falls disproportionately on poor people, women, migrants and minorities.
The consequences of the SIR are not hypothetical. In West Bengal's April 2026 state election, more than 9mn names were removed from voter rolls. While 6.4mn were initially classified as dead, absent, relocated or duplicates, another 2.7mn were removed after software flagged discrepancies in their records. Of this group, over 80 per cent appealed, but just 1,607 people were reinstated in time to vote. Months later, most appeals are unresolved. Yet 93 per cent of decided appeals resulted in reinstatement, raising serious questions about the accuracy of the original deletions.
The SIR also threatens one of India's greatest institutional assets: an Election Commission whose sweeping powers have rested on its reputation for impartiality. Allegations of partisan bias and deference to the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) government led by Prime Minister Narendra Modi, together with reports of dissent within the commission, have eroded confidence in its independence.
India's ability to conduct elections remains impressive; more than 640mn people voted in its last general election. But disputes over voter eligibility, bureaucratic obstacles and allegations of partisan manipulation are reminders that administrative sophistication alone cannot guarantee electoral integrity. Amid the uproar over the SIR, the Election Commission has belatedly instructed officials to identify and re-enrol eligible voters omitted from the list.
But even if wrongly deleted voters are eventually reinstated, they can never recover the votes they were denied. A country that once went to extraordinary lengths to ensure all citizens could vote is now busy placing new obstacles in their way.
