‘Jungle Raj’ vs. Good Governance: Bihar’s Battle Between Fear and Order

The ghosts of ‘Jungle Raj’ loom large over the 2025 Bihar Assembly election, testing whether Nitish Kumar’s promise of good governance can outlast the memory of chaos.

As Bihar goes to the polls on November 6, an old fault line has reopened with familiar ferocity. Once again, the state’s political debate revolves around the twin poles of crime and governance. On one side stand Prime Minister Narendra Modi and Chief Minister Nitish Kumar, touting two decades of ‘sushasan’ (good governance) and a state rescued from the anarchy of the 1990s. On the other is Tejashwi Yadav, scion of Lalu Prasad Yadav, who insists that Bihar’s law and order success is cosmetic, its governance hollowed by hypocrisy and selective justice. The rhetorical clash of ‘Jungle Raj’ versus Good Governance has become not only the battle cry of the campaign but a shorthand for Bihar’s political history itself.

For over three decades, Bihar’s politics has oscillated between these two conceptions of rule: one rooted in populist defiance and caste solidarity, the other in technocratic order and the promise of development. Today, that old duel returns with new urgency, testing whether Nitish Kumar’s legacy of control can survive his waning charisma and whether Bihar’s electorate still defines security as the measure of good governance.

Normalized Crime

The phrase ‘Jungle Raj’ first appeared in a Patna High Court judgment on August 5, 1997, when judges observed with exasperation that “there is no government in Bihar, only Jungle Raj.” The term was seized by Lalu Prasad Yadav’s critics to describe the perceived lawlessness and political patronage that flourished under his watch. Between 1990 and 2005, the governments of Lalu and his wife, Rabri Devi, were accused of allowing the rule of law to crumble. Kidnappings for ransom became a chilling routine; professionals such as doctors and engineers fled the state. By 2004, Bihar recorded over 3,600 murders and nearly 2,000 kidnappings annually. The figures came to symbolise a state where fear was not an aberration but a governing principle.

The stories that emerged from that period still haunt Bihar’s political memory. The lynching of District Magistrate G. Krishnayya by a mob in Gopalganj in 1994 and the reign of terror associated with RJD strongman Mohammad Shahabuddin, who ran Siwan like a personal fiefdom, became emblematic of a deeper decay. Police stations often deferred to local strongmen, while courts creaked under political pressure. Investment rapidly evaporated as industry shut down and Bihar’s educated youth streamed out to Delhi, Mumbai and beyond in one of India’s largest internal migrations.

Yet to Lalu’s loyalists, ‘Jungle Raj’ was not an era of chaos but of empowerment. They recall it as the moment when the state’s most marginalised - Dalits, Yadavs and Muslims - found political voice after decades of upper-caste domination. The social revolution Lalu began in the 1990s broke the monopoly of the landed elite, turning Bihar into a crucible of caste politics that continues to shape electoral outcomes. The irony is that the politics of empowerment came at the cost of administrative paralysis.

Promise of Order

When Nitish Kumar took power in 2005 with the BJP’s backing, he promised to replace fear with order. A trained engineer with a technocrat’s temperament, he positioned himself as the anti-Lalu: pragmatic, understated, and obsessed with systems. His first years in office were marked by a quiet administrative revolution. Police recruitment expanded, special courts were established to expedite trials against criminal politicians, and thousands of cases were prosecuted under the Arms Act. Initiatives like ‘Operation Vishwas’ and ‘Thana Badar’ dismantled entrenched criminal networks.

The results, though uneven, were measurable. National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) data show that between 2004 and 2019, Bihar’s murder rate fell by nearly 18%, robberies by 69%, and reported rapes almost halved. Night travel, once unthinkable, became routine. Roads and bridges were built at an unprecedented pace. Nitish’s governance model—centred on security, infrastructure, and social welfare—earned him the moniker “Sushasan Babu.”

For the first time in decades, Bihar’s elections were fought over development rather than caste alone. School attendance rose; healthcare expanded; per capita income, though still low, more than doubled between 2005 and 2020. The Chief Minister’s allies now claim that the state’s image has changed from that of India’s “badlands” to one of gradual recovery.

Complex Reality

But Bihar’s transformation, like its democracy, remains partial. Beneath the rhetoric of reform lies a more complicated reality. Nearly one in three candidates contesting this election faces criminal charges, many of them serious. Parties across the spectrum continue to court strongmen with local influence. The distinction between the bahubali (muscleman) and the politician has blurred, producing what scholars call the “criminalization of democracy.”

Tejashwi Yadav has capitalised on this contradiction. In rally after rally, he accuses Nitish Kumar’s government of turning a blind eye to crimes committed by those loyal to the ruling alliance. His rhetoric resonates with younger voters frustrated by unemployment and inequality, for whom crime is not the only barometer of governance.

The RJD’s revival is also a story of generational recalibration. Tejashwi, though heir to Lalu’s legacy, presents himself as a moderniser who can reconcile social justice with growth. He has softened the confrontational edge of his father’s politics, speaking instead of ‘Rozgar Raj’ (a regime of jobs). His promise to create 10 lakh government jobs in 2020, though mocked as unrealistic, has cemented his image as the leader of Bihar’s restless youth.

The NDA, for its part, has doubled down on its core narrative of stability. At rallies, Modi reminds voters of the 1990s as a “dark age” when Bihar was “hollowed by misrule.” His speeches juxtapose “lanterns” (the RJD’s symbol) with “LED lights,” symbolising the passage from darkness to progress. The BJP’s own campaign posters feature Nitish Kumar as the custodian of order.

The irony, of course, is that Nitish himself has crossed the political aisle multiple times, allying alternately with the BJP and the RJD. His protean alliances reveal the pragmatism of Bihar’s coalition politics. To many voters, his credibility now rests less on conviction than on a belief that whatever his loyalties, he can still keep the peace.

Bihar’s oscillation between disorder and discipline is not unique in Indian politics. Uttar Pradesh underwent a similar transformation under Yogi Adityanath. But Bihar’s story is distinct because its political legitimacy was once built on defiance of the state itself. Lalu’s populism thrived on mocking the bureaucracy; Nitish’s governance depends on rehabilitating it.

The deeper question for Bihar in 2025 is that without institutional reform, the old patterns of patronage risk returning under new slogans. The state still ranks near the bottom on per capita income, industrial output, and education. Migration remains an economic lifeline. Law and order may have improved, but swift justice remains elusive.

The choice, then, is not simply between two parties but between two visions of how order should be maintained and whom it should serve. Bihar’s electorate, seasoned by decades of political turbulence, understands this better than most. A Patna-based academic recently observed that Bihar voted not out of fear of the past but out of negotiation with it.

The late Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee once wrote, “From broken strings, spring melodies arise.” Bihar’s melodies, too, are emerging from those broken strings – tentative and uneven yet resilient. Between the shadows of fear and the glimmers of hope, the crimson line of dawn is visible once again.