Young in Number, Old in Power

Maharashtra’s local elections reveal how a youthful electorate is being crowded out by money, lineage and virtual politics.

After a gap of nearly eight years, the bugle has finally sounded for local self-government elections in Maharashtra. Municipal corporations, councils, nagar panchayats and panchayat raj institutions are once again arenas of competition. The return of the electoral grind has brought with it a familiar mixture of excitement and confusion. Yet amid the scramble for tickets, alliances and ward arithmetic, the state’s vast youthful demographic is once again relegated to the sidelines.

By any numerical measure, Maharashtra is a young state. Voters between 18 and 29 account for a formidable share of the electorate, with more than five crore citizens having the theoretical power to shape outcomes. In democratic terms, this is a vast reservoir of energy and expectation. In political reality, it is a largely untapped force as the distance between youthful presence at the ballot box and youthful presence in decision-making remains stubbornly wide.

Entry Barriers

The paradox is striking. Young people have the numbers, and many have the will. What they lack is access. Entry into politics, especially at the local level where leadership ought to be nurtured, has become more difficult, not less. The barriers are no longer ideological or organisational; they are financial and familial.

Once, the path into politics was slower and messier. Party loyalty, years of groundwork, social contribution and a degree of ideological alignment mattered. Today, those virtues have been eclipsed by a harsher calculus. The only question that appears to count is brutally simple: can the candidate win? Winning, in turn, is increasingly synonymous with spending power and social pedigree. ‘Merit’ has been reduced to electability, defined narrowly by money and muscle.

This shift has predictable consequences. Young people who work patiently on civic issues by helping residents navigate government offices, studying policies, mobilising communities are finding themselves pushed to the margins. Politics has come to rest on capital, and the average young activist is left behind. Contesting an election without significant financial backing has become an exercise in futility.

The system is not merely indifferent to this exclusion; in many ways, it has been designed to produce it. Opportunities for candidature flow disproportionately to those with family legacies, established surnames or patrons higher up the party hierarchy. Nepotism and top-down imposition of ‘faces’ have become routine across parties. Young workers are valued as foot soldiers and social-media amplifiers, but rarely as leaders.

For an honest young person from an ordinary background, the effect is dispiriting. The ladder appears to have been pulled up. Where, then, is the space for those who see politics as a form of social service rather than a business proposition?

The irony is that such people exist in abundance. Across the state, young citizens like Manisha Waghmare in Dharashiv, Narayan Chapke in Parbhani, Sandhya Sonawane in Ahmednagar and Rahul Sasane in Pune have built reputations through sustained social work. They raise local grievances, challenge bureaucratic inertia and engage seriously with public policy. Yet when elections arrive, they are often relegated to supporting roles, while candidates with better optics but thinner records are propelled forward.

This preference for appearance over substance is no accident. In the digital age, politics has become intensely visual. Leadership is increasingly constructed on social media, through curated posts, reels, photographs and follower counts. Virtual prominence is mistaken for grassroots strength.

The result is a culture of ‘photocopy’ leadership, in which style eclipses substance. It is a poor substitute for a work ethic grounded in results and accountability. For a democracy that depends on local institutions to deliver basic services, this is a structural weakness.

Elections signal what the system truly values. Caste equations, religious polarisation, propaganda techniques and personal branding dominate campaign strategies. Issues that directly affect young voters like education, employment, healthcare, housing and local development, slip down the list of priorities. The disconnect between what is debated and what actually matters grows wider with each cycle.

If this political culture persists, the consequences will extend beyond a single election. Young people will begin to see politics not as a vehicle for change but as a closed club, hostile to merit and indifferent to sincerity. Cynicism, once entrenched, is hard to reverse. For a democracy as large and diverse as India’s, that is a danger signal worth heeding.

(The writer is a lawyer and president, Student Helping Hands. Views personal.)