To Vote Is Not a Choice: How Urban Poor Are Compelled Into Politics They Don’t Believe In

On 29th April, 2026, the Election Commission of India (ECI) released a press statement with a bold title—West Bengal records highest-ever poll-participation since Independence.

It says that Bengal has marked a total voter turnout of 91.66% in its Phase-2 elections. Immediately after this declaration, conversations and arguments emerged over the news. With some describing it as an indication of change in government (high turnouts are usually associated with that) and some alleging election rigging. But without going into either of these arguments, let us focus on another aspect of it—voting turnouts are indeed higher than ever.

This is not only reflected in the recorded numbers but also in the mass migration taking place from different urban cities of workers towards election-bound states, especially West Bengal and Tamil Nadu. This fervour is being celebrated as the “beauty of democracy”, of “people finally exercising their consciousness”. However, there is another, not so cheerful side to it that the dominant narrative conveniently ignores—how people are effectively being forced to vote.

In liberal democracies, voting is considered the most powerful right. But what is a right? A right is usually defined as a privilege or a claim enforceable by law. While it gives one the freedom to act, it also gives the freedom to not act. In the case of voting, that aspect of the “right” is effectively missing.

Let us understand this in light of current events and from the experiences of the most underprivileged sections of society. While the 91.66% is being held up like a huge number in Bengal’s election, the figure of 9 million is missing from popular news. 9 million is the number of voters who have lost their right to vote in Bengal alone after the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls. There is little doubt that the SIR exercise has been marked with severe mismanagement, corruption, and irregularity, something not unheard of in India’s bureaucratic functioning.

With the deletion of names comes an additional threat—being marked as “suspected foreigners”, directly affecting citizenship and exposing people to the risk of being labelled foreign nationals and facing forced deportation. In states like West Bengal and Tamil Nadu, where people are repeatedly alleged to be “outsiders”, the concern is the gravest.

Long before elections were even announced, the anxiety around SIR had already taken hold. This anxiety is on another level for those from underprivileged sections, who lack access to correct information, legal recourse, and the ability to afford the hefty bribes that bureaucratic systems often demand.

In Delhi, under our mass action programme, Janchetna Abhiyan, we have been working in a slum that houses migrant workers from Bengal, largely involved in scrap work. For over a year now, people have been bearing heavy costs of travel and missing out on work just to ensure their names appear on the electoral list. With SIR shifting the burden of proof onto individuals, much of their year has been spent moving from one government office to another. One month they are in Delhi, the next they must appear at hearings in Bengal over objections to their documents.

This constant to-and-fro has not only affected their income but has also disrupted the education of their children, many of whom were enrolled in schools in Delhi but later had their names struck off due to lack of attendance.

If this ongoing ordeal was not enough, in November 2025, the same slum caught a massive fire, reducing hundreds of huts and shanties to ashes. The fire spread within minutes. People, while running for their lives, did not carry valuables—they searched for their documents and Aadhaar cards. Some were successful, many were not. With documents destroyed, the already difficult SIR process became even more impossible for many. Some managed to get through it, others continue to await their fate.

As April approached, many began rushing back to their hometowns again. When asked why they were leaving their source of income to travel all the way to vote, the answer was not hope or confidence in elections, but fear—fear of being struck off voter lists, and with it, their claim to citizenship.

Another experience from the previous year further reflects this reality sharply. As Delhi approached its legislative assembly elections in early 2025, Jailorbagh became one of the many slums turned into a political stage. In January 2025, Narendra Modi visited the area and inaugurated “Swabhiman Apartments” as a gift to slum dwellers, just a month before elections. Although the project had been under construction since 2009 and remained incomplete, around 1,200 people were hastily resettled. Over 500 families were declared ineligible under the DSUIB policy and promised resettlement after elections.

Elections brought BJP back to power after years in Delhi. The promises, however, remained promises. Instead, what followed was a mass demolition of the slums on 16th June 2025. Some residents managed to secure a stay order, but for three months, people lived in the remains of their homes without electricity or water, until restoration came only through court orders.

During this period, while conducting relief work, we spoke to residents to prepare a report. In one interview on 15th August, while discussing “independence,” Sanjay, a slum dweller, remarked, “In this country, the poor have only one right—to cast a vote.” He added that even this right is not free, describing how people are often prevented from voting by local power structures.

We asked about the common accusations of how slum dwellers “vote irresponsibly” for accepting small bribes like ₹200 or a quarter of liquor. One resident, however, described this situation quite differently. He mentioned how taking such bribes itself reflects their lack of trust in the system. He said the act of voting itself feels as cheap as the bribe, making it a no-loss situation.

In Jailorbagh’s case the compulsion to vote as against the “right”, becomes even clearer. The DSUIB policy includes eligibility conditions requiring names to have appeared in voter lists between 2010–2015. Residents allege that they were declared ineligible for missing votes, being out of town, or losing documents. In this way, the right to housing itself becomes linked to voting history.

Under such conditions, one must ask: how free is the act of voting? Can the argument that people, especially from the slums, vote in high numbers in elections show their faith in electoral politics just based on voting percentage?

Conversations with residents repeatedly made us realise how elections and political debates often serve as entertainment for the middle class, but mean little to those in slums. Many openly say that no party will do anything for them but still have to vote.

Voting, thus, while described as a right, a duty, or an expression of faith in democracy, does not hold the same meaning for everyone. For many among the working masses, it is not an act of belief or hope. It is something they are compelled to do.

The cycle shall continue. Elections will bring promises and spectacle, people will be lined up in the “largest democracy”, and their forced participation will be called a “celebration of the festival of democracy”.