A new ADR report shows that one in five Indian legislators is from a political dynasty. The share of crorepati MPs has also soared over a decade and a half

Things were turned upside down in Nepal a few days back. A lot of things were stated unambiguously as the reason for the explosion of this anger, especially by those who have slotted themselves as Gen Z. Perhaps this is the first time that any protest anywhere in the world has the age of its protagonists so rigidly defined—those born between 1997 and 2012. The average age of Nepal is about 25 years and this may have to do with such a tight demographic branding of the protests.

True to a generation sunk in smartphones, the final nudge for the protests in our neighbouring nation was said to have come after the government shut down several social media platforms on a lame pretext. For Gen Z, it was as if the nation’s mirror had been splintered and a truth-machine wound up. Arguably, it was the first time that social media shutdown had actually propelled a nation into anarchy. In psychological terms, this could well be about withdrawal symptoms.

Not long ago, social media was seen as a ‘progressive’ tool generating positive democratic pressure around the world—for example, during the Jasmine Revolution in North Africa, Arab Spring in West Asia and anti-corruption activism in Delhi in the early 2010s. Social media platforms were made out to be friendship societies until fiendish dreams woke up the world.

When people realised the treacherous role of algorithms, the platforms’ profit motives, and their role in coalescing fringe movements, social media platforms were quickly dubbed as democracy’s weapons of mass destruction. In the case of Nepal, it is too early to judge if social media exerted a healthy democratic pressure or played a nefarious role.

Anyway, the more important and decisive expression of the protests in Nepal was not about social media. It was perhaps only a ruse to put forth a larger inventory of complaints—much bigger and more legitimate. From all the reportage, the issues related to corruption, nepotism and insouciance of the power elite seemed to be at the core.

A phrase that caught on during the protests was ‘nepo kids’. These children of powerful political figures were said to be flaunting luxury lifestyles online. For the protesting Gen Z, this was not about envy, but about the mortification of a democratic dream. Nepal became a democratic republic in 2008 when the monarchy was abolished. However, the nepo kids became new princes and princesses. Vox populi, reported in a newspaper, complained that they showed off their lifestyle on Instagram and TikTok but never explained where the money came from. Another voice said: “We were raised on stories of democracy, but we live inside a monarchy of ministers. One surname can open every door.” Their anger was clearly about the rigging of democracy.

All this instantly and heavily resonated across the border in India, but we seem to have been deliberately less reflective. It has been a familiar story here, too, of dynasties and surnames shutting the door behind them to ensure that none outside their blood networks get in the room.

However, there is a paradoxical situation in India today. The ruling BJP establishment has consistently spoken against dynastic politics besides corruption. But interestingly, those who have been made by dynastic politics and currently occupy the opposition space are accusing the ruling establishment of subverting democracy.

The opposition’s charges may not have reached a critical mass because no amount of their hyper-moralistic posturing and self-righteous campaigns has made the ordinary people unsee their original privilege and entitlement. That is the paradox—both a stalemate and a checkmate.

Around the time Nepal was on the boil, the Association of Democratic Reforms (ADR), a true public service organisation in India, released a report on the dynastic backgrounds of sitting legislators on September 12. That included MLAs and MLCs across state assemblies and MPs in both the Lok Sabha and the Rajya Sabha. Like all ADR reports, this too diagnosed the health of our democracy and the prognosis was not encouraging.

Of the total 5,203 sitting legislators across assemblies and parliament, 1,106 were found to have dynastic backgrounds. This means one out of every five sitting members are dynasts. This 21 percent could be assumed to be the absolute power elites of the country because they have retained power for at least two generations. If the ADR report had included caste brethren and family extensions, the consanguinity of Indian political power would be further exposed.

If one went state-wise, legislators with highest dynastic linkages—in the band of 25-35 percent—came from Andhra Pradesh, Haryana, Jammu and Kashmir, Maharashtra, Bihar, Himachal Pradesh, Jharkhand, and Karnataka. Each of these states is bigger than or slightly smaller than Nepal. The least dynastic states are Mizoram, Sikkim, Tripura, Nagaland, and Assam—in the 2-9 percent band and all in the Northeast; West Bengal is the only other state in the single-digit band.

Among the national parties, the Congress has 32 percent legislators with dynastic connect, while the BJP has 17 percent. The AAP is at 11 percent and the CPI(M) at 8 percent; but the BSP—currently with only four sitting legislators in three states—has none with a dynastic linkage. The figures for state-level parties are far more complicated. There are no comparative statistics from Nepal, but this is where India stands.

The ADR report on the wealth of our legislators is not encouraging either. The share of crorepati MPs has jumped from 58 percent in 2009 to a shocking 93 percent in 2024. This tells us how the rich dominate our democratic system. The sheer size of India, its economic advantages, its bewildering cultural diversity, and its complicated feudal nature perhaps offset a strong pan-India reaction to injustices and the lack of common access to legislatures.

Still, we have had our own uprisings that have changed regimes without violence. We had one 50 years ago—what began as a students’ movement ended up ushering in the first non-Congress government in 1977. Another in 1988-89 was built around corruption at the highest level. Then we had anti-corruption emotions building up in 2011, which brought about the 2014 electoral watershed. Serious allegations like ‘vote chori’ are doing the rounds now but, for a variety of reasons, seem to lack the ability to spark instant outrage.