‘Empowerment is not declared in speeches or delayed in legislation — it is proven in who gets power, who gets protection, and who gets excluded’
THE “power without representation” paradox in India highlights a sharp disparity between the increasing mobilisation of women as a crucial voter base and their persistent underrepresentation in political decision-making bodies. While women have achieved near-parity in voter turnout, they constitute a small fraction of elected representatives, revealing a substantial gender gap in India’s political promise.
The failure to pass the delimitation-linked women’s reservation bill is not merely a legislative setback — it is a revealing political moment. It forces us to confront a deeper, more uncomfortable truth: that women’s empowerment in India continues to be mediated through symbolism rather than substance, through promises rather than power. When a reform so central to democratic inclusion falters, the question is not only why it failed, but what its failure exposes about political intent.
At one level, the demand for women’s reservation in legislatures is rooted in a simple democratic principle: representation shapes outcomes. Political theorists from Hanna Pitkin to contemporary feminist scholars have long argued that descriptive representation — the presence of women in political institutions — is not merely symbolic. It transforms priorities, influences policy agendas, and alters the grammar of governance itself. Countries with higher proportions of women legislators have consistently demonstrated stronger attention to issues such as healthcare, education, violence prevention, and social welfare.
Democratic Deficit
India, despite its constitutional commitment to equality, has lagged in this regard. Women constitute nearly half the population, yet their presence in political institutions remains strikingly limited. In the current Lok Sabha, women account for just about 13.6% of total members. Within the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), which holds a dominant position in Parliament, the proportion is even slightly lower — 31 women MPs out of 240, or approximately 12.9%. These are not just numbers; they are indicators of a democratic deficit.
The executive branch reflects a similar imbalance. Out of 72 ministers in the Union Council of Ministers, only seven are women. At the state level, the disparity is even more pronounced. Among the 21 chief ministers within the BJP and its National Democratic Alliance, only one is a woman. This is not an incidental oversight; it is a structural pattern that reveals how power continues to be concentrated and gendered.
If representation is one axis of empowerment, safety is another. Here too, the data presents a troubling picture. According to the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB), reported crimes against women have more than doubled over roughly a decade — from 213,585 cases in 2010 to 448,211 in 2023. Reported rape cases have increased from around 22,000–24,000 annually in 2010 to over 31,500 in recent years. Incidents of kidnapping and abduction of women have also shown a significant rise.
To be sure, an increase in reported crimes can sometimes indicate improved reporting mechanisms and greater willingness among women to come forward. Feminist scholars have often pointed out that silence, not statistics, is the true measure of underreported violence. Yet, even when viewed through this lens, the scale and persistence of these increases raise serious concerns. Greater reporting without corresponding improvements in prevention, investigation, and conviction reflects a system that acknowledges violence without effectively deterring it.
Gap Between Narrative and Reality
This is where the gap between narrative and reality becomes stark. Over the past decade, the BJP has foregrounded a range of initiatives aimed at women’s welfare — from campaigns emphasising the dignity of the girl child to schemes targeting financial inclusion and sanitation. These interventions, while important, operate largely within a framework of welfare rather than empowerment. They position women as beneficiaries of state policy, not as agents of political power.
Empowerment, in its fuller sense, is about agency, autonomy, and authority. It is about who makes decisions, not just who receives benefits. When women remain underrepresented in legislatures, cabinets, and party leadership, the architecture of power remains fundamentally unchanged. Welfare without representation risks becoming paternalism by another name.
The contradiction becomes even more visible when we examine electoral practices. Political parties exercise direct control over candidate selection, making this one of the most immediate levers for advancing gender equity. Yet, the data suggests limited commitment. In the West Bengal elections, for instance, the Trinamool Congress fielded 52 women out of 291 candidates — about 18%. The BJP, by contrast, fielded only 33 women out of 294 candidates, or roughly 11%.
This pattern extends across the country. Out of 1,654 BJP MLAs, only 164 are women—just under 10%. These figures indicate that the pathway to political power remains structurally constrained for women. Without deliberate and sustained efforts to expand candidature, representation will remain stagnant, regardless of legislative promises.
Question of Accountability
Perhaps the most troubling dimension of this discussion lies in the question of accountability. According to data from the Association for Democratic Reforms (ADR), 54 BJP MPs and MLAs have declared cases related to crimes against women. Additionally, at least five lawmakers face serious charges such as rape under IPC Section 376 and related provisions. These are not marginal concerns — they strike at the heart of the credibility of any political commitment to women’s safety.
Political theory offers a useful framework here. The legitimacy of democratic institutions rests not only on electoral mandate but also on moral authority. When individuals accused of crimes against women are allowed to contest elections, win office, and even occupy positions of influence, that moral authority is eroded. It sends a contradictory message: that the system condemns violence in principle but tolerates it in practice.
It is important to emphasise that many of the measures required to address these contradictions do not depend on new legislation. Political parties already possess the autonomy to act. They can choose to increase the number of women candidates. They can ensure greater representation in cabinets and leadership roles. They can adopt strict internal criteria that bar individuals facing serious charges related to violence against women from contesting elections under their banner.
These are not radical proposals; they are basic tests of intent. And intent, ultimately, is the missing link in the discourse on women’s empowerment in India.
The repeated emphasis on legislative solutions — while important — can sometimes function as a form of political deferral. By linking women’s reservation to processes such as delimitation, the timeline for implementation becomes uncertain, even indefinite. In the meantime, the structural imbalances within political parties remain unaddressed.
A more honest approach would recognise that empowerment cannot be postponed to the future of a bill. It must be practiced in present-day politics. It must be visible in candidate lists, in cabinet compositions, in party hierarchies, and in the ethical standards applied to those seeking public office.
The electorate, increasingly informed and discerning, is not blind to these contradictions. In an era of data transparency and digital access, voters are better equipped than ever to evaluate performance against promises. The gap between rhetoric and reality is no longer easily concealed.
Women’s empowerment, if it is to be meaningful, must move beyond the language of protection and into the realm of power. It must challenge the structures that exclude women from decision-making, not merely compensate for their exclusion through welfare schemes. It must confront the uncomfortable truth that patriarchy is not only a social phenomenon but also a political one, embedded within institutions and practices.
Commitment to Equality
This requires a shift in both perspective and practice. It requires political parties to see women not as a constituency to be managed, but as leaders to be empowered. It requires a commitment to equality that is reflected not only in policy documents but in everyday decisions.
The path forward is neither complicated nor inaccessible. Show intent. Nominate more women. Elevate them to positions of real authority. Reject candidates who face serious charges of violence against women. None of this requires waiting for a bill to pass.
The debate around women’s empowerment in India cannot be reduced to the fate of a single piece of legislation or the symbolism of political messaging. It is, at its core, a test of political integrity. When crimes against women rise, when representation stagnates, and when those accused of violating women’s dignity continue to find space within positions of power, the contradiction becomes impossible to ignore.
Real change does not wait for legislative convenience – it is built through everyday political choices. Nominate more women. Elevate them. Enforce accountability. Anything less is not a lack of opportunity — it is a lack of will. And increasingly, the people can tell the difference.
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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
