The poll verdict is about the unsettling possibility that the real winner was something else entirely: a system where money, power, and institutional control shape outcomes
THE election results in West Bengal have been widely projected as a decisive political shift, even a validation of the expanding national footprint of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). But to accept this interpretation without interrogation is to mistake outcome for endorsement. Beneath the spectacle of victory lies a far more disquieting possibility: that this election was shaped as much by systemic advantage as by popular consent.
When electoral outcomes begin to feel predictable in advance, when anomalies in the process precede results, democracy demands scrutiny, not submission. To term them “Obvious explanations” is not only valid – it is necessary.
The West Bengal result does not sit easily within the logic of routine anti-incumbency. The All India Trinamool Congress (TMC) may not have governed flawlessly, but it did not fail so dramatically as to justify the scale of its defeat. Electoral reversals of this magnitude are typically driven either by deep public anger or by a collapse of legitimacy. Neither appears sufficiently evident here.
On the contrary, Mamata Banerjee’s tenure deserves a more balanced assessment than it has received in the aftermath. She has led a government that, despite political turbulence, has largely avoided large-scale communal violence. In an era where polarisation has become an electoral strategy, that in itself is no small achievement. Nor has her administration been tainted by major corruption convictions that would warrant such a sweeping rejection.
Moreover, her government has functioned under sustained pressure from the Centre — financial constraints, contested delays in dues, and relentless political targeting. That she has managed to hold her ground through these pressures speaks of a resilience that deserves acknowledgment, not erasure. If anything, Mamata’s political endurance in the face of such asymmetry warrants applause, even from her critics.
Contrast this with the campaign strategy deployed by the BJP. Led by figures such as Amit Shah, the campaign appeared less rooted in local governance concerns and more in the familiar grammar of polarisation and centralised messaging. It lacked the nuance required for Bengal’s distinct political culture. The reliance on identity politics, coupled with a failure to articulate a compelling, state-specific development vision, revealed strategic limitations rather than strengths.
Yet, despite these limitations, the BJP secured a sweeping victory. This is where the deeper questions begin.
The scale and timing of the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls cannot be ignored. Reports of widespread deletions of voter names raise fundamental concerns. In any democracy, the voters’ roll is sacred infrastructure. If it is compromised — even partially —the legitimacy of the entire electoral exercise is placed under a cloud.
The issue is not merely whether the Election Commission followed procedure. It is whether those procedures were transparent, equitable, and free from political influence. Procedural compliance is not synonymous with democratic fairness. When large sections of the voters risk exclusion, the process itself becomes suspect.
It is in this context that a remark — half cynical, half accusatory — resonates widely: “the EC won this election.” This is not simply rhetoric. It reflects a growing perception that institutions meant to guarantee neutrality are no longer seen as independent arbiters, but as participants — whether by action or omission — in shaping outcomes.
Layered onto this is the role of money power. Elections in India have always involved financial resources, but the scale at which money now influences outcomes has reached unprecedented levels. The West Bengal election bore all the signs of a “money-bag democracy,” where financial muscle determines not just campaign visibility, but voter mobilisation, narrative dominance, and ultimately, electoral success.
When vast sums of money flow through opaque channels, when campaign machinery overwhelms local political ecosystems, and when institutional checks appear weakened, the electoral contest ceases to be fair. It becomes, instead, a managed exercise — one where the façade of democracy masks an imbalance of power.
In such a scenario, the BJP’s victory begins to look less like a triumph of governance and more like the culmination of structural advantage. The party becomes the face of a deeper system — one in which money power and institutional alignment play decisive roles.
This raises an uncomfortable but necessary question: Does the BJP’s success in Bengal reflect the strength of its governance model?
A comparative look at states governed by the BJP suggests otherwise. In Bihar, poverty levels remain among the highest in the country, with significant portions of the population continuing to live in deprivation. Madhya Pradesh has long struggled with multidimensional poverty indicators, reflecting persistent gaps in health, education, and living standards. Uttar Pradesh, India’s most populous state, continues to face serious challenges in child nutrition, healthcare access, and employment generation.
Governance indices over time have placed several BJP-ruled states in lower tiers of performance, especially when compared to states like Kerala, which consistently rank higher on social development measures. Even where infrastructure expansion is visible, it has not always translated into broad-based economic transformation or improved quality of life.
Critics have also pointed to rising unemployment, inflationary pressures, and uneven development outcomes across BJP-ruled states. These are not isolated concerns; they are structural issues that challenge the narrative of a successful governance model.
Equally significant is the social climate accompanying this governance. Incidents of communal tension, polarising campaign rhetoric, and forms of social policing—such as actions targeting inter-community relationships — have contributed to a perception of deepening social division. Politics, in such a context, becomes less about inclusive development and more about consolidation through identity.
Set against this backdrop, West Bengal under Mamata Banerjee presents a contrasting picture. While not without its flaws, the state has avoided the scale of social fragmentation seen elsewhere. Welfare schemes have had a visible reach, and political contestation, though intense, has not fundamentally altered the social fabric in the way that communal politics has in other regions.
This contrast makes the election outcome even harder to accept at face value.
If a party with a contested governance record defeats an incumbent that has not demonstrably collapsed, and does so amid concerns about electoral rolls, institutional neutrality, and the overwhelming influence of money, then the question is not simply who won. The question is how.
Democracy is not merely about counting votes. It is about ensuring that every eligible vote is counted, that institutions remain impartial, and that the contest itself is fair. When these conditions are in doubt, the legitimacy of the outcome cannot be taken for granted.
The results in other states may offer some reassurance that India’s democratic diversity endures. But that reassurance is fragile. It coexists with a growing unease that the rules of the game are being quietly rewritten.
If the concerns surrounding the SIR and voter deletions are even partially valid, then the demand must be unequivocal: a transparent, independent audit of electoral rolls, full public disclosure of data, and judicial oversight where discrepancies exist. Without such measures, the shadow over this election will remain.
Ultimately, what we are witnessing is not just an electoral contest, but a deeper transformation of democracy itself. When money begins to speak louder than citizens, when institutions fall silent or appear complicit, and when outcomes feel preordained, democracy does not merely weaken — it is hollowed out from within.
The West Bengal verdict, then, is not just about the victory of the BJP or the defeat of the TMC. It is about the unsettling possibility that the real winner was something else entirely: a system where money, power, and institutional control converge to shape outcomes — while democracy, quietly, pays the price.
And let us not pretend this was a contest fought on equal terms. The scale of money that flowed through this election — shaping narratives, saturating media, and overwhelming opposition — points to something far deeper than political mobilisation. Add to this the quiet exclusions through electoral roll revisions, and the field begins to resemble not a democracy, but a managed arena. Strip away the spectacle, and a stark truth emerges: this was not simply a victory of the Bharatiya Janata Party. It was a victory of money power, enabled by institutions that should have guarded the process, not tilted it.
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Ranjan Solomon is a writer, researcher and activist based in Goa. He has worked in social movements since he was 19 years of age. The views expressed here are the author’s own and Clarion India does not necessarily share or subscribe to them. He can be contacted at ranjan.solomon@gmail.com
