The Crisis of Parliamentary Democracy

After proclaiming a kind of supreme faith in parliamentary democracy within a mixed social system, modern political scientists have begun to show deep concern over its structural defects and are eager to correct them. A few fundamental questions that have preoccupied scholars for some time are these:
 
How far does parliamentary democracy differ from true democracy? Or, is parliamentary democracy the best possible path toward realizing the ideal of democracy?
 
Numerous examples from the modern world suggest that a form of fascist-Marxist governance has entered into the very womb of democracy like a parasitic caterpillar. Does parliamentary democracy, in fact, nourish such quasi-fascist or Marxist forces and make them stronger?
 
How much liberty does man truly enjoy under parliamentary democracy? Is it only a fragment, a shadow of the freedom philosophers once imagined?
 
In today’s global political order and social framework, each of these questions is both valuable and has received more than one kind of answer. To verify these answers, let us imagine a hypothetical democratic state.
 
Let us name this state “K.” Though the state contains people of diverse races, religions, and castes, its political field is dominated by only two major parties. Smaller regional parties do exist, but none enjoy wide support; at crucial times they simply lend their weight to one of the two larger formations. Over the past hundred years, power has rotated between these two major parties, largely through regular elections. With one election held every five years, each party has, in effect, enjoyed around fifty years in power, give or take. Occasionally, coalitions with minor parties were formed, but in the long view, K has been ruled by just two political groups and around twenty-odd heads of government, some of whom won two or three terms, while others were forced to resign within a year or two.
 
Now let us turn to the democratic process itself. Suppose the total population of K is 100. Of these, 70 are voters, the rest being minors. In each general election, on average 60% of voters cast their ballot — that is, 42 people. In most of the world’s larger democracies, 30–40% of these votes suffice for a party to claim parliamentary majority. Thus, with 42 voters participating, a party can capture power with only 13–17 votes. In other words, the future of the state rests on the will of just 13–17% of its population.
 
Consider India’s present government: it secured power with 17 crore votes in a nation of 140 crore. In Jammu and Kashmir, governments have formed with barely 5% of the people’s votes. Hence in state K, for the past hundred years, barely 17% of the people have determined the fate of the entire state — and they had only two major parties to choose from. If one failed, they turned to the other; when the second failed, they returned to the first. Thus failures returned to power again and again. In other words, two failing parties alternated in ruling, each monopolizing half of the time in power. No provision exists in democracy that permanently prevents a failed party or individual from returning to government.
 
In India, this distortion has become graver, for here parliamentary democracy has often meant dynastic rule. Nehru’s family, the Ramas and Raos, Karunanidhi and MGR’s clans, the Kashinath family, Mulayam’s family, Lalu’s family — all have dominated power for decades. Only two national parties, the BJP and the CPM, remain relatively free from family control. Yet 80% of India’s political power has historically been wielded by dynastic parties.
 
One may then ask: those 40% of the people worldwide who never vote — are they apathetic toward democracy itself, or merely disillusioned with every political party? Startlingly, voting participation is lowest in educated societies. Within a state, urban educated zones have lower turnout than rural regions; in cities, the affluent neighborhoods record the least. In India too, from the very beginning, voting participation in cities has been far lower than in villages. The wealthier and more educated, the less faith they place in the ballot.
 
In fascist or communist states, there is no voting at all; all power rests with a dictator, a committee, or a politburo. But even in democracies, when only 40% participate, and a party can form government with 13–17% of the population’s consent, is it truly superior? Can one rationally argue that a two-party democracy is much better than a one-party fascist state? Particularly when people are forced to choose between only two ideological camps. This is why many call it “optionless democracy.”
 
Constitutions of democratic states are framed in such a way that independent individuals outside party structures face near-impossible hurdles. To file a nomination, one must present five supporters; state-controlled media may be used only by parties, not independents. Parties can deploy their enormous wealth and muscle power; an individual must struggle alone. In America’s history, many influential and wealthy men contested for the presidency, but none succeeded. In India too, never have independents won in large numbers to form a government. Modern democracy, in truth, is selective democracy — a modern variant of Plato’s political class, Marx’s politburo, or the Roman Senate.
 
Thus, when elections everywhere ultimately boil down to “yes” or “no” for one of two options, can we truly claim that the governments formed thereby reflect the people’s will? In India, the pattern is even starker: though leaders change, the second- and third-rank politicians, their coteries and families, remain permanently in power. Hundreds of such political actors never face elections themselves, yet they enjoy power by clinging to parties or personalities. They are honored with grand titles — “political personalities” or “influential families.”
 
Meanwhile, ordinary people are trapped — “tigers on land, crocodiles in water.” There is no alternative force. The same small circle of leaders, across four or five parties, eternally rotate between government and opposition. Every five years, the voter must pick one of them. Even if just 1% vote, these same people will become rulers or opposition. In Tamil Nadu or Kerala, we see the endless alternation of Jayalalitha–Karunanidhi, CPM–Congress.
 
Thus, the world abounds with proof that mankind has never given absolute faith to parliamentary democracy. Freedom, equality, power of choice — these ideals have never reached perfection. Instead, we see a form of neo-fascism lurking inside. Outwardly adorned with rituals of elections, inwardly smuggling in fascist elements. India’s Emergency in the 1970s, or the rise of military dictatorships in neighboring states, show us that fascist undercurrents seep through every vein of this democratic system. Whether we see it or not, it remains the chief enemy of democracy.
 
And the most despairing fact: there is no new ideal, no fresh democratic model visible today that can liberate states from fascism’s grasp while preserving the spirit of democracy.