Democracy’s hardest question: Who may vote, and why it matters

Every democracy instinctively celebrates the right to vote. It is upheld as a moral triumph, a symbol of equality, inclusion, and popular sovereignty. From civic textbooks to political speeches, voting is projected as the purest expression of democratic will. Yet beneath this near-universal reverence lies a more demanding and often uncomfortable question-one that democracies must confront from time to time if they are to remain credible: who is legitimately entitled to exercise this right? This question is neither ideological nor partisan. It is constitutional.

And it is precisely this foundational issue that the ongoing Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls brings into sharp focus. In recent months, SIR has largely been framed as a political controversy. Administrative scrutiny has been interpreted as political intent, and institutional processes have been read through partisan lenses. Such framing may sharpen rhetoric and mobilise opinion, but it obscures the real democratic problem. Electoral rolls are not a peripheral bureaucratic detail; they are the gateway to democratic legitimacy. To examine SIR without politics is not to deny disagreement, but to return the discussion to the first principles that underpin representative government itself.

Voting is widely perceived as an unconditional and universal right. Constitutionally, however, it is a conditional right conferred upon citizens who meet clearly defined legal criteria. This distinction is not semantic; it is fundamental. Democracies do not merely aggregate preferences; they legitimise power through lawful participation. When eligibility is treated as symbolic or incidental, representation itself becomes fragile. Electoral legitimacy depends not only on how votes are counted, but also on who is entitled to cast them. An accurate electoral roll is therefore not administrative housekeeping; it is the foundation on which the credibility of elections rests.

In societies marked by high mobility, internal migration, urbanisation, and shifting demographics, this foundation cannot remain static. Special Intensive Revision forces a necessary democratic reckoning: legitimacy

requires periodic verification. To ignore this reality is to allow electoral processes to drift away from the constitutional idea of citizenship-based representation.

India’s constitutional framework anticipated this challenge. Article 324 vests the Election Commission of India with plenary authority over the conduct of elections. This authority is not symbolic; it is operational and comprehensive, extending explicitly to the preparation, revision, and correction of electoral rolls. Articles 325 and 326 further define the franchise, making clear that the right to vote flows from citizenship and age, not from mere residence, convenience, or political sentiment. Citizenship is not incidental to voting; it is foundational. Article 327 empowers Parliament to legislate on electoral processes, reinforcing a constitutional design that places electoral integrity in the hands of independent institutions rather than transient political majorities.

Seen through this lens, Special Intensive Revision is not an administrative overreach; it is constitutional maintenance. Electoral rolls that accumulate duplications, retain deceased voters, or include ineligible entries gradually erode representative legitimacy. The greater democratic risk lies not in scrutiny, but in neglect. A democracy that refuses to periodically examine its own voter lists risks normalising inaccuracy in the very mechanism that confers authority on governments. Much of the anxiety surrounding SIR stems from misunderstanding its scope and purpose. SIR is neither a blanket purge nor an exclusionary exercise. It is a corrective process aimed at addressing accumulated distortions-removing names where eligibility has ceased, adding newly eligible voters, and verifying entries where discrepancies exist. Routine updates alone cannot correct these structural pressures. Periodic intensive revision becomes necessary precisely because democratic societies are dynamic rather than static.It is also important to recognise that voter-roll revision is not unique to moments of political contestation. In India’s own electoral history, intensive revisions have often followed periods of demographic change rather than electoral volatility. Comparative democratic practice supports this approach. Mature democracies such as the United Kingdom and Canada routinely revise electoral rolls through verification mechanisms that are sometimes more stringent than India’s. One apprehension, however, deserves serious engagement: the fear that voter verification becomes disenfranchisement in disguise. This concern cannot be dismissed lightly. Any democratic process that temporarily disrupts participation must justify itself rigorously. Here, a principled distinction is essential. Disenfranchisement is systemic, targeted, and irreversible — the denial of a lawful right. Verification, by contrast, is procedural, uniform, and subject to correction. A voter whose eligibility is questioned and subsequently restored through due process has not been disenfranchised; the franchise has been reaffirmed through law. Administrative fallibility is real. Large-scale exercises inevitably generate errors, delays, and inconvenience. Individuals may temporarily find their names missing or receive notices that feel unsettling. These experiences merit empathy rather than dismissal. But fallibility must not be conflated with malice. The existence of notice requirements, correction windows, appeal mechanisms, and judicial oversight is precisely what separates verification from exclusion. The answer to administrative error is procedural refinement, not abandonment of verification itself.

Much of the criticism of SIR rests on assumptions that are emotionally compelling but institutionally unsustainable. One assumption is that deletions are arbitrary or final. In reality, deletions follow a defined legal process involving notice and the opportunity to respond. Another assumption is that verification disproportionately targets specific social or regional groups. Electoral law permits no demographic filters; eligibility criteria are uniform and constitutionally grounded. Without evidence of systematic bias, such claims risk undermining institutional trust without strengthening democratic safeguards.

Underlying the entire debate is a false binary: that inclusion and integrity are competing democratic values. They are not. Inclusion without integrity dilutes lawful participation; integrity without inclusion corrodes legitimacy. Democracy survives only when both are pursued together. Verification is not an act of distrust towards citizens; it is an act of responsibility towards the franchise itself. A democracy that refuses to verify its electoral rolls in the name of comfort risks reducing citizenship from a legal status to a rhetorical slogan. It is also worth recognising that distrust of institutions has grown globally, fuelled by polarised politics and instantaneous information cycles. In such an environment, every administrative act is viewed with suspicion. Yet democracies cannot function if institutions are paralysed by the fear of being misunderstood. The answer to distrust is not abdication of duty, but transparency, procedure, and accountability.

No institution in a democracy is infallible, including the Election Commission. Democratic maturity lies in strengthening institutions through evidence-based critique, procedural correction, and judicial oversight. India’s electoral system has evolved through reform and legal scrutiny, and Special Intensive Revision is part of this continuum. Democracies do not weaken because they verify too much; they weaken when verification is portrayed as illegitimate and constitutional duty is mistaken for political intent.

The writer is a former IAS officer; views are personal