Chief Election Commissioner Gyanesh Kumar faces mounting criticism from the opposition over alleged bias, drawing inevitable comparisons with the legendary T. N. Seshan.
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| Chief Election Commissioner Gyanesh Kumar. Stock Image. |
D Karmakar
In the current landscape of Indian politics, few names are as frequently invoked in debate and controversy as that of the Chief Election Commissioner, Gyanesh Kumar. His tenure has become the focal point of intense political scrutiny, particularly from the opposition, which has accused him of partisanship and questioned his commitment to ensuring free and fair elections. The criticisms leveled against him underscore the fragile trust that underpins the democratic process in the world’s largest democracy. At the heart of this debate lies a deeper question: what does it mean to be a truly independent Election Commissioner in India, and how does Gyanesh Kumar’s style of functioning compare with the legacy of his predecessors, especially the legendary T. N. Seshan?
T. N. Seshan remains etched in public memory as the most formidable Chief Election Commissioner in independent India. He transformed what had long been regarded as a ceremonial office into one of authority, credibility, and fear for those who dared flout electoral norms. Seshan’s insistence on transparency and neutrality reshaped the Election Commission of India’s role in the 1990s. His most remarkable contribution was the introduction of the photo identity card for voters, which drastically reduced electoral fraud and strengthened the sanctity of the vote. For Seshan, the independence of the Commission was non-negotiable, and he often clashed with political parties, governments, and even within the bureaucracy to uphold electoral discipline. His name became synonymous with integrity, even as his aggressive style attracted criticism for being authoritarian.
Against this historical backdrop, the comparison with Gyanesh Kumar becomes inevitable. His elevation to the post has been marked not by bold reforms but by political storm clouds, with the opposition accusing him of aligning too closely with the ruling establishment. While his defenders argue that he is merely following established procedures within the framework of law, his detractors see in his approach a worrying dilution of the Commission’s autonomy. Unlike Seshan, who openly relished conflict with politicians to establish the Commission’s authority, Gyanesh Kumar appears more cautious, bureaucratic, and willing to negotiate the middle ground—an approach that has only heightened suspicions in today’s polarized political climate.
The contrast extends further when one examines their style of leadership in relation to other Election Commissioners. Seshan stood apart, towering above his colleagues and often sidelining them, making the Commission synonymous with his own personality. His was a one-man crusade against electoral malpractice. Gyanesh Kumar, by contrast, operates within a collegial structure where the Chief Commissioner’s authority is balanced, at least formally, by the presence of other Election Commissioners. Yet the perception remains that in practice, the current Commission lacks the assertiveness of Seshan’s era, giving critics the impression of timidity or even complicity.
This difference is not merely about personal style but also about the context of their times. Seshan’s era coincided with the rise of coalition politics, when no single party could easily dominate the institutional framework. His authority thrived in an environment where public opinion could be mobilized against powerful political figures. Gyanesh Kumar, in contrast, functions in a time when the ruling party enjoys unprecedented dominance, and where media and civil society are more fragmented. His critics argue that this makes his role even more crucial, requiring extraordinary independence, but what they see instead is compliance.
At stake is not just the legacy of one individual but the credibility of the Election Commission itself. Seshan’s example showed that a single determined individual could revive faith in the fairness of Indian democracy. Whether Gyanesh Kumar can rise to that level—or whether his name will be remembered as a cautionary tale of political subservience—remains to be seen. The opposition’s attacks on him are not merely about his personal decisions but about the broader anxieties regarding the erosion of institutional checks and balances in India’s democratic system.
Ultimately, the comparison with T. N. Seshan sets an almost impossible benchmark. Yet it also highlights the essence of the office: the expectation that the Chief Election Commissioner must stand above politics, embody neutrality, and inspire confidence across party lines. For now, Gyanesh Kumar remains under the spotlight, caught between the burdens of history and the demands of the present. Whether he chooses the path of bureaucratic caution or transformative courage will define not only his own career but also the trust of millions of Indian voters in the electoral process.
In the current landscape of Indian politics, few names are as frequently invoked in debate and controversy as that of the Chief Election Commissioner, Gyanesh Kumar. His tenure has become the focal point of intense political scrutiny, particularly from the opposition, which has accused him of partisanship and questioned his commitment to ensuring free and fair elections. The criticisms leveled against him underscore the fragile trust that underpins the democratic process in the world’s largest democracy. At the heart of this debate lies a deeper question: what does it mean to be a truly independent Election Commissioner in India, and how does Gyanesh Kumar’s style of functioning compare with the legacy of his predecessors, especially the legendary T. N. Seshan?
T. N. Seshan remains etched in public memory as the most formidable Chief Election Commissioner in independent India. He transformed what had long been regarded as a ceremonial office into one of authority, credibility, and fear for those who dared flout electoral norms. Seshan’s insistence on transparency and neutrality reshaped the Election Commission of India’s role in the 1990s. His most remarkable contribution was the introduction of the photo identity card for voters, which drastically reduced electoral fraud and strengthened the sanctity of the vote. For Seshan, the independence of the Commission was non-negotiable, and he often clashed with political parties, governments, and even within the bureaucracy to uphold electoral discipline. His name became synonymous with integrity, even as his aggressive style attracted criticism for being authoritarian.
Against this historical backdrop, the comparison with Gyanesh Kumar becomes inevitable. His elevation to the post has been marked not by bold reforms but by political storm clouds, with the opposition accusing him of aligning too closely with the ruling establishment. While his defenders argue that he is merely following established procedures within the framework of law, his detractors see in his approach a worrying dilution of the Commission’s autonomy. Unlike Seshan, who openly relished conflict with politicians to establish the Commission’s authority, Gyanesh Kumar appears more cautious, bureaucratic, and willing to negotiate the middle ground—an approach that has only heightened suspicions in today’s polarized political climate.
The contrast extends further when one examines their style of leadership in relation to other Election Commissioners. Seshan stood apart, towering above his colleagues and often sidelining them, making the Commission synonymous with his own personality. His was a one-man crusade against electoral malpractice. Gyanesh Kumar, by contrast, operates within a collegial structure where the Chief Commissioner’s authority is balanced, at least formally, by the presence of other Election Commissioners. Yet the perception remains that in practice, the current Commission lacks the assertiveness of Seshan’s era, giving critics the impression of timidity or even complicity.
This difference is not merely about personal style but also about the context of their times. Seshan’s era coincided with the rise of coalition politics, when no single party could easily dominate the institutional framework. His authority thrived in an environment where public opinion could be mobilized against powerful political figures. Gyanesh Kumar, in contrast, functions in a time when the ruling party enjoys unprecedented dominance, and where media and civil society are more fragmented. His critics argue that this makes his role even more crucial, requiring extraordinary independence, but what they see instead is compliance.
At stake is not just the legacy of one individual but the credibility of the Election Commission itself. Seshan’s example showed that a single determined individual could revive faith in the fairness of Indian democracy. Whether Gyanesh Kumar can rise to that level—or whether his name will be remembered as a cautionary tale of political subservience—remains to be seen. The opposition’s attacks on him are not merely about his personal decisions but about the broader anxieties regarding the erosion of institutional checks and balances in India’s democratic system.
Ultimately, the comparison with T. N. Seshan sets an almost impossible benchmark. Yet it also highlights the essence of the office: the expectation that the Chief Election Commissioner must stand above politics, embody neutrality, and inspire confidence across party lines. For now, Gyanesh Kumar remains under the spotlight, caught between the burdens of history and the demands of the present. Whether he chooses the path of bureaucratic caution or transformative courage will define not only his own career but also the trust of millions of Indian voters in the electoral process.
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