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By:

Akhilesh Sinha

25 June 2025 at 2:53:54 pm

Trust on Trial

Mamata Banerjee’s EVM protest bodes ill for Indian democracy New Delhi: Mamata Banerjee’s EVM protest spotlights a deeper crisis. When constitutional officeholders question institutions like the Election Commission, it risks eroding public trust, blurring accountability, and weakening democratic legitimacy. The greatest strength of Indian democracy lies in its institutional credibility, the trust that assures citizens that the systems created by the Constitution are fair, transparent, and...

Trust on Trial

Mamata Banerjee’s EVM protest bodes ill for Indian democracy New Delhi: Mamata Banerjee’s EVM protest spotlights a deeper crisis. When constitutional officeholders question institutions like the Election Commission, it risks eroding public trust, blurring accountability, and weakening democratic legitimacy. The greatest strength of Indian democracy lies in its institutional credibility, the trust that assures citizens that the systems created by the Constitution are fair, transparent, and accountable. However, when those who occupy constitutional offices themselves begin to publicly express distrust in these very institutions, the issue transcends any single incident or individual and strikes at the legitimacy of the entire democratic framework. In this context, the events of the night between April 30 and May 1 in West Bengal demand serious reflection. Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee sat for nearly four hours outside an EVM strong room set up at a school in south Kolkata, where voting machines from the Bhabanipur Assembly constituency had been stored. Despite heavy rain, her decision to be physically present at the site, and to raise concerns about a possible “loot” of EVMs and “manipulation” during counting, inevitably raises several troubling questions. Her statements that “we are ready to risk our lives” and “we can gather 10,000 people at a signal.” Her words go beyond routine political rhetoric. They can be interpreted as a direct challenge to the credibility of India’s electoral process and to an independent constitutional authority like the Election Commission of India. In contrast, West Bengal’s Chief Electoral Officer Manoj Kumar Agarwal clarified that all eight strong rooms (seven containing EVMs and one for postal ballots) were fully sealed, under continuous CCTV surveillance, and accessible for monitoring by political representatives beyond a three-tier security perimeter. He further noted that the postal ballot room had been opened in accordance with established rules, with all candidates duly informed. At its core, this is not merely a factual disagreement but a deeper constitutional dilemma. When a sitting Chief Minister questions the impartiality of the Election Commission, the implications extend far beyond a single election. Such assertions risk casting doubt over the entire electoral history of independent India. Are we then to believe that democratic exercises over the past 75 years have been a mere façade? That governments, state or national, have been formed through manipulation rather than mandate? Or is this a political strategy aimed at shaping public perception amid electoral uncertainty? It is true that Mamata Banerjee is a candidate in the ongoing Assembly elections. But it is equally true that she continues to hold a constitutional office. This dual role makes her actions subject to greater scrutiny. The episode raises important questions that can an individual occupying a constitutional office stage protests against the very system they are sworn to uphold? Does such a position not entail a higher degree of institutional responsibility, regardless of political contestation? This brings us to a broader issue, the definition and responsibilities of a “public servant.” In India, administrative officials, police personnel, and members of the armed forces are prohibited from participating in public protests, precisely because they are expected to maintain institutional neutrality. Yet, elected representatives, Prime Ministers, Chief Ministers, ministers, and legislators, are also paid from the public exchequer. Should they be exempt from similar standards of restraint? If not, do they possess the moral or legal authority to publicly challenge constitutional institutions while in office? History suggests that this is not an isolated occurrence. Mamata Banerjee herself staged a three-day sit-in in Kolkata in February 2019 against a CBI action. Her protests against demonetisation in 2017 and against voter list revisions in 2024 and 2025 reflect a continuing pattern. Similarly, Arvind Kejriwal held protests in 2014 outside Rail Bhavan and in 2018 at the Lieutenant Governor’s residence. Ashok Gehlot and Bhupesh Baghel also joined demonstrations in Delhi against central investigative agencies while serving as Chief Ministers. Taken together, these instances reveal a growing pattern, individuals occupying constitutional offices engaging in public protests against institutional processes. This trend blurs the fine line between democratic dissent and constitutional propriety. While dissent is a fundamental democratic right, it becomes problematic when it undermines the legitimacy of the very institutions that sustain democracy. Another critical concern is the apparent “double standard.” When pension benefits and other privileges for administrative officials are curtailed or withdrawn, why are similar principles not applied to elected representatives, Members of Parliament, legislators, and ministers? If all are public servants, why this disparity in rights and obligations? This is not merely an economic question but one of ethical consistency and constitutional equality. It is evident that the Indian constitutional framework requires a clearer and more comprehensive articulation of the definition, responsibilities, and limits of public servants. This is not just a matter of legal reform, but of strengthening democratic culture itself. Those who hold constitutional offices are not only expected to exercise power, but also to safeguard institutional dignity and public trust. Democracy does not function on elections alone, but it runs on trust. And when that trust begins to erode, the greatest responsibility lies with those who wield power to restore and protect it. No scope for wrongdoing West Bengal Chief Electoral Officer (CEO) Manoj Agarwal on Friday asserted there is no scope for wrongdoing at the counting centres, stating that round-the-clock CCTV monitoring of strong rooms was in place. “One should have reason and evidence for making allegations,” he said, maintaining that the complaints made by TMC spokesperson and Beleghata constituency candidate Kunal Ghosh, are baseless.

Fragile Truce

Updated: Jan 16, 2025

A history of ceasefires in Gaza suggests that while they may pause the violence, they seldom deliver lasting peace.

Gaza

Once again, the antagonists are on the verge of brokering a deal after months of slaughter as a ‘draft ceasefire’ is about to be clinched. All eyes are now on Gaza, where a potential ceasefire agreement between Hamas and Israel appears tantalizingly close after 16 months of relentless violence that has ravaged the territory, displaced over 90 percent of Gaza’s 2.3 million residents and plunged its economy into ruin. Yet while a 42-day cessation of hostilities, the release of prisoners, and the promise of post-war reconstruction offer a glimmer of hope, history cautions against premature optimism.


This latest truce attempt mirrors a long lineage of ceasefires that temporarily quelled violence without addressing its underlying causes. The 1993 Oslo Accords, hailed as a breakthrough in Israeli-Palestinian relations, established the framework for Palestinian self-governance and phased Israeli withdrawal. However, the failure to resolve critical issues—borders, settlements, refugees, and the status of Jerusalem—meant the agreement was born with a ticking clock. Within a decade, the hope it inspired disintegrated into the bloody Second Intifada.


More recent agreements have followed a similarly flawed trajectory. The 2014 Cairo Agreement ended one of the deadliest conflicts between Israel and Hamas, with over 2,000 Palestinians and dozens of Israelis dead. The pact pledged easing of the Gaza blockade and allowed for reconstruction aid. Yet within months, it became clear that promises made at the negotiating table could not withstand the political pressures on either side. Sporadic violence continued, culminating in further escalation by 2021.


The ‘May Ceasefire’ of 2021 was another example. Brokered after 11 days of fighting, it offered an immediate end to airstrikes and rocket attacks but did not tackle the broader context of blockade, governance, or security. Within months, skirmishes resumed, culminating in the protracted conflict that today’s negotiations aim to end.


The obstacles to durable peace lie not in drafting ceasefires but in addressing the asymmetry of power, diverging political mandates, and deep-seated mistrust that characterizes Israeli-Palestinian relations. Key players have seldom agreed on even the terms of negotiations. Hamas has historically rejected Israel’s right to exist, while successive Israeli governments have refused to negotiate directly with an organization they deem a terrorist entity.


Adding to these complexities is the fractured Palestinian political landscape. Gaza remains under Hamas rule, while the West Bank is governed by the Palestinian Authority, led by the increasingly unpopular Fatah party. U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s suggestion of a “unified Gaza and West Bank under reformed Palestinian leadership” presupposes a level of cooperation between these factions that history suggests is unlikely.


Geopolitics further complicates matters. Current negotiations owe much to Qatar and Egypt, both of which wield unique leverage over Hamas. But their mediation efforts cannot erase broader regional rivalries. Moreover, the transition of American leadership—outgoing President Joe Biden’s team handing over to President-elect Donald Trump—creates uncertainty.


This proposed ceasefire, if realized, must navigate immediate logistical hurdles like the exchange of hostages and prisoners, the withdrawal of Israeli troops from parts of Gaza and measures to allow humanitarian aid to flow into the besieged enclave. Past agreements have faltered under similar pressures, with delays in implementation eroding trust.


History shows that sustainable peace requires more than a halt to fighting. In the aftermath of the Six-Day War in 1967, Israel retained control over territories seized from neighbouring Arab states, and intermittent peace talks over the decades failed to dismantle these realities. While accords such as Camp David (1978) and Wadi Araba (1994) achieved peace between Israel and Egypt or Jordan, their success relied on clearly delineated borders and mutual recognition. The absence of such clarity in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict has repeatedly doomed negotiations.


While negotiators in Qatar edge closer to a deal, unless the underlying issues—territorial disputes, political legitimacy, and humanitarian equity—are meaningfully addressed, this agreement risks becoming yet another entry in a long catalogue of false starts.

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