Disenfranchisement and dissent in the world’s ‘largest democracy’
The views expressed in this blog post are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of CMI.
On 10 October 2026, India’s capital turned into a fortress. More than 38,000 security and paramilitary personnel were mobilised not against armed actors or terrorist groups, but to contain peaceful protesters. The demonstrations followed startling reports that more than 130 million names – equivalent to 13% of eligible voters– had been excluded from or flagged during the preparation of draft electoral rolls. These are staggering numbers in any context; but the equivalent would be if 527,011 Norwegian voters (13%) found out they were struck off the voter rolls. The potential disenfranchisement of millions and the loss of public confidence in the electoral process are unprecedented and raise fundamental questions about the sanctity of the country’s democratic credentials, which have been witnessing a steady decline in recent years.[1]
At the centre of the controversy is the Election Commission of India (ECI), the independent body tasked with conducting the country’s elections, and its exercise to “clean up” the electoral rolls. The Special Intensive Revision (SIR), as it is called, is an intensive exercise involving house-to-house visits to update voter information regarding births, deaths, and changes to residence. The current exercise began in Bihar (one of the poorest states) in June 2025, just four months ahead of the state’s assembly election, and has since become deeply controversial. In a country of almost a billion voters, the SIR is a mammoth task that must be undertaken with care and consideration, as the electoral rolls define the exact contours of the political community. Yet the SIR has been beset by reported irregularities and procedural inconsistencies, raising troubling questions about the exercise’s reliability and denial of eligible voters’ rights.
First, despite the massive relevance of these systems to democracy, there was very little transparency about the use of AI and software to identify “logical discrepancies" in voters’ records, including variations in names, ages, and possible duplicate registrations. In the capital city Delhi, voters, many of whom resided in poorer tenements and more marginalised backgrounds, received notices that they had been struck from the list without being told what discrepancy had been identified or what documents were needed to correct it. In other states, there were also software challenges; which meant even voters who were later verified as being eligible were not included in the final rolls because the software lacked a rollback facility.
Second, voters absent from older electoral rolls were required to provide additional documentation, while commonly held documents, including the Unique Identification Document (UID), were initially excluded. This disproportionately complicated registration for poorer and more illiterate voters who were unable to produce documents such as birth certificates or passports. The decision also raised a more fundamental question: was the ECI effectively determining citizenship, a matter beyond its jurisdiction? The Supreme Court later required the Commission to accept UID as identification, while clarifying that it does not itself prove citizenship and that the ECI cannot conclusively determine citizenship under the Citizenship Act.
The controversy also moved within the Commission itself between the Chief Election Commissioner (CEC) and the two other Commissioners. Changes to the voter-registration processes, including a new declaration, were introduced ostensibly by the CEC without amendments to the designated rules[2]. Investigations revealed that the two election commissioners, who are of equal rank to the CEC, raised objections to the legality of such changes along with a a slew of other objections (14 in total) to decisions on voter registration, deletion, and restoration. These differences were consequential because decisions within the Commission are supposed to be unanimous or, in cases of disagreement, decided by majority vote. The allegations therefore concern not only voter exclusions, but whether the CEC exceeded his office’s powers by introducing new changes to the form and made decisions without the explicit consent and, at times, despite the dissent of the other two commissioners.
The ECI has since ordered a special drive to identify and re-enrol eligible voters left out of completed revisions. The Commission has not conceded that the SIR is unlawful or generally defective, but the corrective exercise acknowledges the possibility of wrongful exclusions. Noting the scale of the alleged violations, protesters led by the satirical Cockroach Janata Party (CJP) and opposition parties like the Indian National Congress (INC) have demanded the CEC’s resignation, the rollback of the SIR, and restoration of the pre-SIR rolls. Their demand goes beyond adding back individual voters – a complex, time-consuming task – to scrapping the revised lists altogether, reflecting a wider loss of confidence in the Commission.
Given that the stakes extend beyond the immediate controversy and raise more glaring questions of the state of India’s democracy, an independent investigation into how the SIR was conducted, how exclusions were determined, and whether voters had a fair chance to challenge decisions should have been instituted by now. Yet the Modi government’s failure to demand accountability from the ECI has only deepened suspicion. Opposition parties and activists allege that the ruling coalition benefited electorally in states affected by exclusions, particularly Bihar and West Bengal. While these claims remain to be conclusively substantiated, the reported scale of exclusions, disputed procedures and dissent within the Commission constitute sufficient grounds for an independent inquiry to establish responsibility and restore public confidence.
But instead of assuaging public trust by fortifying the capital and restricting peaceful demonstrations, the government has instead provided yet another demonstration of its disregard for the right to peaceful protest. These heavy-handed displays of force were also last seen during the 20 July protests over the examination controversy, when Gen-Z protestors led by the CJP demanding the resignation of the Education Minister were tear-gassed and detained.
This time, though, authorities moved to pre-empt demonstrations by instituting prohibitory orders in central Delhi and suspending transportation services and internet access around the protest site. As I write, protest leaders, former chief ministers, opposition politicians and 6,000 others have been detained[3]. These scenes are horrific and disturbing, especially in an era when the world is witnessing a dramatic reversal of the 50 years of gains made in democratisation[4]. Yet the sheer spirit and resolve of the protestors, ready to take on the state they see as both brutal and authoritarian, imbue me with a sense of awe and pride in how democracies are forged and defended not by institutions and laws alone, but by those who refuse to be silenced.
This CMI blog post is written by Gayatri Sahgal, researcher at CMI.
[1] As per VDEM, India was ranked 73rd in 2017 but has since slipped more than 30 points to 106th among 179 countries in 2025.
[2] Under Section 28 of the Representation of the People Act, 1950, the Central government has the authority to make or amend the relevant rules, usually through a notification issued by the Ministry of Law and Justice. Such amendments are also subject to parliamentary oversight.
[3] Most of the leaders of the protest have since been released, although the status of the 6000 others is still emerging.
[4] According to the latest V-Dem report, Democracy is back to 1978 levels for the average global citizen. The gains of the “third wave of democratisation”, starting 1974 in Portugal, are almost eradicated
