The Lotus And The Lotus-Eaters

After three bruising months of nonstop politicking, the largest, grandest, and by far the most elaborate festival of democracy in human history, is finally drawing to a close.

It was so freely contested, so seamless in execution at the administrative level, and so thoroughly digital, that it has now firmly established itself as the gold standard globally.

And in the process, the 2024 general elections captured the prevailing spirit of this subcontinent for posterity, warts and all.

That is important, because every expression of a public mandate captures the cumulative change which has accumulated since the previous paradigm point, while also offering pointers on what the next stage of political evolution might look like.

So, what is the state of play as we enter the last phase of polling?

On one side stand the phalanxes of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and their allies. Symbolised by the lotus, and indefatigably led by Narendra Modi, their objective is crystal clear: to secure a third consecutive popular mandate. 

This objective is communicated endlessly, repeatedly, using facts and figures, even ad nauseum, especially to those who have heard it before and already made up their minds on which way to vote.

Rhetoric is used for effect, for punch, often allegorically, and crucially, to remind voters that if the lotus wilts, so will the nation’s growth story.

On the other side is arrayed an emaciated Congress party, along with those fragments of the opposition who remain in meaningful alliance. It is not a long list. The leadership of the Congress itself, is largely titular, since the tail wags the hand in more places than not. Worse, it stands for nothing.

There is an incipient paucity of meaningful policy in the opposition’s public messaging, plus a palpable listlessness, both of which are sought to be overcome by negativist rhetoric of the shrillest quality.

Why they chose to adopt this approach is something of a mystery, because history shows that this never works; even the 1977 elections, which were held in the shadows of dark Emergency days, offered a positive message to the electorate: to democratically depose a despot, by the vote, to reinstitute justice.

Be it finance, foreign affairs, defence, industry, or any similar key sector, there is not one line in their communication on practical policies they would seek to implement if elected to office.

Instead, in macabre irony, their campaign content has been reduced to that very ‘shunyata’ (‘nothingness’; a predominantly Buddhist philosophical concept on the inherent nature of things) which Congress leader Rahul Gandhi once tried to expound upon in vain.

But metaphysics, as anyone who is not a postmodernist would clearly know, is not an alternative for either substance or intent; just as metaphysics without morality is wholly meaningless.

Consequently, it appears as if large sections of the opposition have fallen into a fatal ‘basket of deplorables trap’, wherein, voters who do not subscribe enthusiastically to their electoral promises, or do not respond to their alarmist appeals, are promptly categorised as ignoramuses who are supping with the enemy.

Thus spurned, and with a contemptuous sniff, their electoral caravans roll on to the next stop, to chant their mawkish threnodies, as they continue on their despairing hunt, to gather and rally enough of their own suitable sort, to somehow stave off the inevitable.

This is political purblindness of an extreme degree not seen hitherto in Indian politics.

Is the opposition truly so obtuse, so lacking in insight or understanding of both ground realities and popular aspirations, that they will persist with this style of campaigning even into the final phase of polls?

Or, is it that they have, over time, become incapable of offering a genuine alternative to voters? Occam’s Razor points to the latter.

Beset by either dynastic decrepitude or congenital ineptness, or both, and hence bereft of requisite agency to lead, they are perceived as neither decisive nor authoritative by a remarkably astute public who now know exactly which side of their bread is buttered.

This is why barbs like ‘shehzade’ or ‘naamdaar’ unfailingly hit their marks, and sting, every time they are flung at the opposition.

Theirs is an indolent, self-indulgent form of canvassing, devoid of practical concerns, excessively obsessed with winning elections rather than satisfactorily explaining to the public why they ought to be elected in the first instance.

Perhaps this is what entitlement does to rational thought. Nevertheless, there is no point in flailing desperately because the die is already cast, and this general election has been reduced to a choice between the lotus, and a motley crowd of navel-gazing lotus eaters. Now, let India decide.