The Congress party and its allies are increasingly looking like a desperate political force, unable to digest their serial defeats at the Centre and in states since 2014. Having been reduced to a shadow of their past self, they appear to be experimenting with dangerous tools—allegations of “vote chori,” fabricated narratives of constitutional threats, and even instigating the youth to take to the streets in violence.
The 2024 Lok Sabha elections were a watershed moment. Prime Minister Narendra Modi not only secured a third consecutive term, but the BJP-led NDA also reinforced its dominance across the country. The Congress, on the other hand, failed to cross even the psychological 100-seat mark despite banking on a broad coalition of 25–28 parties. Their hopes of hitting the halfway mark crashed, leaving the Opposition leader, Rahul Gandhi, scrambling for excuses.
At first, the Congress resurrected its favourite bogeyman—Electronic Voting Machines. But the Election Commission, a constitutional body known for its robustness, outright dismissed allegations of tampering. Not only did it demand verifiable proof, it even challenged Rahul Gandhi to submit a signed affidavit if he believed his charges. Predictably, Rahul refused. He knew that a lie on an affidavit could endanger his very ability to contest future elections.
When the EVM narrative collapsed, a new one was manufactured. This time, the Opposition claimed that voters’ names were being “deleted” by the Election Commission to benefit the BJP. Again, facts disproved the charge. Instead of embarrassment forcing introspection, Congress leaders doubled down, expanding their conspiracy theory back to 2014, when the BJP won a historic mandate of 306 seats on its own.
What makes this charade more sinister is the timing. Across their speeches and campaigns, Congress leaders peddled doomsday warnings—alleging that another BJP victory would mean rewriting the Constitution and ending reservations for SCs and STs. These claims were intended to frighten marginalized communities and energize urban youth. More worryingly, they mirror the “Generation Z” protest models of Nepal and Bangladesh, where disinformation-driven agitations snowballed into violent street movements, and have become their weapon now.
This strategy may not have worked in most Indian states, but events in Ladakh this week raise troubling questions. On Tuesday and Wednesday, violent mobs—mostly youth—attacked police stations, torched government property, and even attempted to storm security installations. What could have spiralled into a tragedy, with police forced to open fire and hundreds of lives lost, was contained only because of the Union Home Ministry’s swift intervention.
Investigations have since revealed the role of Sonam Wangchuk, a known Ladakh civil activist in the region. Security agencies have linked him to the unrest, with evidence suggesting his NGO received foreign funding—funds now suspected to be diverted into classic “toolkit” operations aimed at destabilizing sensitive border regions. The cancellation of his FCRA licence adds further weight to the suspicion.
That the violence erupted soon after Rahul Gandhi’s visit to Ladakh cannot be dismissed as a coincidence, and his party’s activists alleged involvement. Was Wangchuk attempting to ignite a larger agitation at the behest of his political masters? Was Ladakh, with its sensitive proximity to China, chosen deliberately to embarrass the Modi government and strain India’s border security narrative? These are questions the investigating agencies must probe thoroughly.
For the Congress, the “vote chori” cry is less about electoral reform and more about political arson. By stoking anger, spreading disinformation, and nudging disillusioned youth towards confrontation with the police and armed forces, the party is playing a reckless game. A single spark in Ladakh could easily have spread to other states, creating precisely the kind of instability foreign forces are waiting to exploit.
The Modi government, however, has refused to take the bait. Instead of reacting with brute force—and gifting the Opposition the “martyrdom” visuals it so desperately craved—it chose restraint. By quietly exposing the masterminds, cutting off dubious funding channels, and keeping security forces alert, the government has neutralized the conspiracy without allowing it to snowball into nationwide chaos.
Meanwhile, the demand for separate statehood for Ladakh is neither logical nor justifiable. That senior Kashmiri leaders like Farooq Abdullah choose to fan this demand exposes their ulterior motives. Their pitch is not for Ladakh’s welfare but for keeping the region tethered to Kashmir’s communal and political agenda. Abdullah argues that the 2019 scrapping of Article 370 turned Ladakhi Buddhists against Ladakhi Muslims, and that the two communities have now “united” in demanding statehood and Sixth Schedule status. The reality is far more complex—and far less rosy—than this narrative.
India today stands at a delicate juncture. A resurgent nation cannot afford political parties that, having failed at the ballot box, attempt to manufacture unrest on the streets. The Congress must be held accountable not just for peddling fake “vote chori” slogans, but also for emboldening divisive elements that undermine internal stability and compromise border security.
Restraint will remain Modi’s mantra, but patience is not limitless. For a party that claims to have fought for India’s independence, the Congress now stands accused of undermining its democracy. The youth of this country must recognize the game being played with their future—and reject it.
