Of late, India has witnessed a disturbing surge in violent behaviour by elected representatives, cutting across both ruling and opposition parties. What’s more troubling is the indifference shown by political leadership across the board. Despite the glaring misconduct, no serious disciplinary action is taken against these leaders. Are we to believe that such individuals—and by extension, their supporters—are above the law?
Contrast this with the standards set by leaders in the past. Former Prime Ministers, including the late Indira Gandhi, were known to publicly express displeasure over crude or inappropriate remarks, even those made against political rivals. Today, we see a shocking shift in public behaviour—from inflammatory speeches to outright physical assaults—by people’s representatives who are expected to uphold the law, not break it.
The recent case of a Shiv Sena MLA slapping a canteen contractor is a case in point. The MLA not only physically assaulted the individual but then went on television to justify his actions, bizarrely blaming “South Indians” for his outburst. Despite this brazen act, he continues to hold office and claims to be a karate champion—as if that’s a license for violence. The contractor’s license was suspended, and a mere FIR was lodged against the MLA. No meaningful action has followed.
This is not an isolated incident. The Shiv Sena, even during the Bal Thackeray era, has had a long history of endorsing or ignoring violent tactics. But it’s high time we asked—shouldn’t there be consequences?
Why can’t the Election Commission take suo motu action against such representatives? As a constitutional authority tasked with ensuring free and fair elections, the EC should be empowered to debar such individuals—and their immediate family members—from contesting future elections. Turning a blind eye to violence in the political arena sets a dangerous precedent.
Political parties must introspect: Do they want India’s vibrant democracy to descend into violent mob rule? Elected representatives are not kings. They have no right—legal or moral—to beat up citizens for any reason. Introspection is vital because India has always stood apart as a model of non-violent democratic transition, unlike some of our neighbours.
Take, for instance, Pakistan, born from the same partition but repeatedly plagued by military coups, political assassinations, and sham elections. Even Bangladesh, which broke away from Pakistan with India’s support, has struggled with violent power transitions. In contrast, even during India’s darkest hour—the Emergency of 1975—when Indira Gandhi briefly assumed autocratic control, democratic order was eventually restored through peaceful elections. There was no widespread political violence during that transition.
This legacy of peaceful governance is now at risk.
In a democracy, elected leaders are meant to channel the voice of the people and resolve grievances through dialogue and legal mechanisms. If lawmakers themselves resort to violence, what message are we sending to the youth? Does that muscle power win over the rule of law? That shouting down or beating up opponents is acceptable?
If this mindset spreads, we are on the brink of institutionalised anarchy.
Let us say a loud and collective NO to violence—physical or otherwise—in our political system.
