INTRO: The Bihar election was no routine loss. It exposed the hollowness of the opposition’s promise and the absence of a voice that could ignite mass hope
Democracy does not collapse with a bang. It withers in silence when its challengers forget how to fight. The Bihar debacle has not merely cost the opposition a state; it has stripped Indian democracy of a viable opposition. The verdict has come like a cold slap across the face of the INDIA bloc, not because it is unexpected, but because it is humiliating in its clarity. A vast political experiment that promised reinvention has stumbled again into its familiar abyss of disunity and personality battles.
The Bihar election was no routine loss. It exposed the hollowness of the opposition’s promise and the absence of a voice that could ignite mass hope. This defeat is not just about one state. It is a signal flare illuminating a larger national tragedy: India currently has no viable opposition capable of countering the mighty BJP. This vacuum is dangerously deepening.
In Bihar, there was no plan, no single face, and no coherent message. The message of survival eclipsed the message of change. The BJP did not need to boast about its national strength. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s mesmerising messages and missionary commitment alone dominated the narrative as a mask of order and certainty. It is astonishing because Bihar is a land that once gave India the greatest political uprising against concentrated power during the Emergency. Today, that same land watches parties fight like feral siblings defending shrinking fiefdoms. Leaders who cannot unite their own cadres are dreaming of uniting the nation.
Sadly, the opposition hasn’t learnt lessons from the past. There were times when opposition was not built through press conferences and social media outrage, but through blood, prison, sacrifice, and a cause larger than individual ambition. There was a time when Indira Gandhi appeared invincible, when her power defied legal, political, and moral challenge. Yet opposition emerged not from one party, but from a movement that sprang from the streets. Jayaprakash Narayan – aged, frail, with no aspiration for office – walked into history with nothing but moral courage. He united socialists, communists, conservative leaders, farmer unions, labour activists, students, and raucous regional chiefs into one mighty wave that toppled a political empire. Those who joined him were not seeking portfolios. They were staking futures.
Contrast that with today’s opposition leaders, many of whom behave more like shareholders of personal political enterprises than custodians of a public cause. Most negotiations in the INDIA bloc are about seats, not mission. The opposition is dividing states by territory, as if national politics is a map for private distribution. Even in defeat, the leaders remain guarded about their turf. Parties fear losing relevance more than losing elections.
VP Singh’s revolt
In the 1980s, when Rajiv Gandhi was swept into power on a wave of sympathy after the assassination of Indira Gandhi, it seemed that no force could challenge the young leader backed by a massive parliamentary majority. Yet VP Singh rebelled and emerged, not through inheritance or entitlement, but through his stand against corruption. His revolt did not start in backroom strategy sessions. He carried with him local titans like Devi Lal and Mulayam Singh Yadav, and farmers who could paralyse highways, and socialist organisers who could fill town squares overnight.
Regional leaders like M Karunanidhi in Tamil Nadu or NT Rama Rao in Andhra Pradesh, and Jyoti Basu in West Bengal did not plead for national attention; they commanded it by virtue of enormous popular followings and a pan-India appeal. They defended their states fiercely, but were willing to align nationally when the idea resonated with public need.
Today, no such figures dominate the stage. Indian politics is plagued with a leadership famine. There is leadership, but no gravity. There are slogans, but no spark. The decline of the Left has left a void in ideological discourse. The Chautalas and Badals, who once controlled politics in Haryana and Punjab, have disappeared or weakened beyond recognition. Even where popular parties remain strong, their leaders are insulated by ambition.
BJP’s monopoly
Mamata Banerjee fights Delhi only when it threatens Kolkata. K Chandrasekhar Rao narrates Telangana pride but refuses to meld it into a broader national democratic project. Akhilesh Yadav guards Uttar Pradesh like an heirloom and avoids larger coalition leadership. The Aam Aadmi Party tries to monopolise its own brand rather than accept a common umbrella. Every leader seeks unity, but under their personal flag.
In this vacuum, the BJP enjoys a monopoly without effort. Its organisational machinery marches without fatigue. Its central face towers above regional leaders and its narrative is simple, consistent, and constantly broadcast: stability, nationalism, development, security. The opposition offers no counter-vision, only counter-commentary.
The implications of such dominance are serious. A democracy without a viable opposition risks losing its reflexes. When one party becomes the centre of gravity, institutions deform toward it. Bureaucracy bends. Investigation agencies chase selective targets. Media amplifies power in exchange for access. Economic oligarchies flourish under political monopolies. Social polarisation becomes a convenient instrument, not a last resort. When people no longer see alternatives, they stop demanding accountability. Leaders begin to believe they embody the will of the nation. The republic becomes synonymous with one party’s narrative, one persona’s vision.
Moral summons
India has seen such concentration before, and it has been challenged before. But challenges did not come from weak alliances stitched for electoral arithmetic. They arose from a moral summons that forced ordinary citizens into collective action. JP was not charismatic in the modern media sense; VP Singh was not a mass orator. What they possessed was legitimacy. They generated trust. Trust turned into momentum, and momentum turned into regime change.
If the opposition today seeks resurrection, it cannot rely on dynastic claims, personality cults, defensive coalitions, grievance rhetoric, or part-time politicians. It must rediscover the spirit of political movement rather than political management. It requires a leader – or a collective of leaders – whose legitimacy does not depend on position but on sacrifice. A strong and credible opposition needs a better alternative in the form of both an individual and an ideology. Someone who can speak for unemployed youth with authenticity, for marginal farmers with lived empathy, for women, workers, for constitutional institutions facing erosion, and minorities not as voters but as citizens deserving rights.
Shared horizon
That leadership must emerge from below, not from drawing rooms or inherited dynasty. It must be willing to challenge state excess on the streets, not just inside television studios. It must accept that opposition is not an election strategy; it is a constitutional responsibility. The future of India’s opposition depends on whether it can abandon short-term territorial insecurity and cultivate a shared ideological horizon. If it fails, the democratic ecosystem will continue to erode, leaving the BJP and Modi unchallenged as default rulers of Indian destiny.
India’s democracy cannot function on a single epic narrative forever. For the health of a viksit and surakshit Bharat, another narrative must appear. For now, that narrative has no author. Until someone rises with conviction greater than ambition, the story of opposition will remain a story of an avoidable and abominable defeat.
