A man who controls the local police, the legal system, development contracts, exerts patronage, collects rents, and doles out benefits — however unfairly — can seem more effective than an honest representative.

We may be the world’s largest democracy, but we also have the highest number of criminals in politics. This deplorable truth stares us in the face, but we seem helpless to do anything about it. Ironically, the truth has been acknowledged; the government has set up committees — like the one chaired by N.N. Vohra — which clearly spell out the magnitude of the problem and what should be done to erase or reduce it. But to no avail.

The reason for this union of muscle and mandate is not a coincidence but a system. What is this system based upon? Firstly, in the absence of fully functioning institutions, the criminal with muscle, money, and influence seeks political legitimacy both as protection and as a means of expanding his nefarious empire. Secondly, political parties, faced with fierce contests and enormous campaign costs, have little hesitation in picking candidates who are not “clean” but “winning.” Winnability always trumps ethics. Thirdly, voters and society at large often tolerate — even reward — the local strongman because of failures of governance.

A man who controls the local police, the legal system, development contracts, exerts patronage, collects rents, and doles out benefits — however unfairly — can seem more effective than an honest representative. Thus, the dabang politician is not simply a villain: he fulfils a role in a system starved of other alternatives, as a modern form of Robin Hood.

Fourthly, legal and institutional facilitating factors — slow courts, weak prosecution, lenient bail, political influence on police, and diffuse accountability — all help this nexus persist. In short, it is the system that enables criminality in politics.

Examples of bahubalis are ubiquitous. In Bihar, which is in the throes of Assembly elections, people like Anant Singh, a JD(U) candidate from Mokama constituency, have just been arrested for alleged murder. He is a history-sheeter of repute, yet the JD(U) gave him a ticket. His rival is the wife of Surajbhan Singh, who is in jail for life for murder. The only candidate thus far for whom the ailing Lalu Yadav came out to campaign is well-known dabang Ritlal Yadav.

Other well-known criminals in politics include Munna Shukla, Pradeep Mahto, and Anand Mohan. The last had the audacity to kill an IAS officer, Gopalganj district magistrate G. Krishnaiah. In neighbouring Uttar Pradesh, gangster Mukhtar Ansari, elected multiple times as MLA, faced dozens of heinous criminal charges.

According to the Association for Democratic Reforms (ADR), about 40 per cent of sitting MPs have declared criminal cases against them, of which 25 per cent are for serious offences like murder, kidnapping, and crimes against women. In a sample of 23 MPs re-elected between 2004 and 2019, 12 declared criminal cases and nine had serious charges.

These examples and figures reveal the pattern: the candidate with a criminal record does not remain marginal but is elected, re-elected, trusted with office, sometimes even made a minister. The marriage of muzahimat (muscle) and mandate becomes normalised. The criminal finds sanctuary in the white kurta; the politician wields a revolver beneath the ballot box. The shocking part is the sheer brazenness with which this malaise continues, as if the law is meant only for the weak.

What can be done to remove this blot from our democracy? The law must ensure that any candidate with a serious criminal case (once charges are framed) is disqualified from contesting elections. Speedy trials and convictions are needed, but in the interim, the candidacy barrier must be higher. Political parties must refuse to nominate those with serious charges. A system of internal ethics plus public naming of such candidates might shame the system.

There is also the need for campaign finance transparency and limits. One reason criminals gain traction is that they bring large undeclared resources. Additionally, independent prosecution and fast-track courts for political crime are essential. Civil society and the media must also demand accountability.

The electorate must understand that musclemen may deliver short-term patronage but will undermine both the rule of law and development. Grassroots voter awareness asking for clean candidates matters. Finally, because criminalisation of politics feeds on social inequality, caste mobilisation, poverty, and weak institutions, only inclusive development and credible governance can diminish the lure of muscle politics.

Until the above happens, criminals will find sanctuary in the white kurta, and the politician will wield a revolver beneath the ballot box. It is a vicious cycle: parties choose these candidates; voters elect them; law enforcers let them roam freely; society tolerates them. Electoral arithmetic legitimises extortion, illicit funding, smuggling, land grabbing, and mining mafias.

India, for all its democratic credentials and Constitutional promise, is hampered by the fact that too many of its corridors of power are haunted not only by ambition but by the shadow of the gangster, the rent-seeker, the muscle politician. The vote has become a currency traded not merely on ideas but on intimidation, money, deferred justice, and brokerage.

The spectacle of the criminal’s costume changing into the politician’s garb should raise not just alarm but national introspection. Unless we accept that the poll booth is where the rot starts, the courtroom where it can be checked, and the public square where it must be named, we will continue to kneel before a democracy that in form is vibrant but in spirit compromised.

The real India must not be the one where the armed go to Parliament, but where the accountable are marginalised; not one where muscle supplants mandate, but where mandate itself regains its moral heft. To be Indian is to aspire not only to be governed but to govern oneself — to demand of one’s society higher ideals than mere survival of the fittest — and in so doing, to make corruption in politics an exception, not the expectation.

Politicians will not change; criminals will not change. Only when voters say no to bahubalis will the system change. It is voters who can ensure a more ethical democracy and must resolutely say: Enough is enough. The country is awaiting this revolution.

The ideal of the rajarishi — king sage — not might is right — must be the guiding beacon of the world’s largest democracy.