If India has spent over three decades recommending reforms against criminalisation in politics, why does the problem continue to persist? The issue is not merely the candidates—it is about a political system that often rewards them.
Democracies are built on a simple premise: those who make the law should themselves be accountable to it. Yet, in India, one of the world’s largest democracies, upholding that principle is becoming increasingly difficult. The question is no longer whether criminalisation exists in politics. It does. The more pressing question is why, despite repeated warnings from courts, commissions and constitutional bodies over the last three decades, it continues to flourish.
According to the Association for Democratic Reforms (ADR) analysis of sitting Rajya Sabha members, 31% of MPs have declared criminal cases, while 16% face serious criminal charges, including murder, attempt to murder, rape, kidnapping, and corruption. These are not isolated or unprecedented numbers. They reflect a pattern that has steadily become a defining feature of India’s electoral landscape rather than an occasional anomaly.
The instinctive response to such statistics is to demand stricter disqualification laws. While understandable, this reaction overlooks a more uncomfortable reality. Criminalisation of politics is not merely the consequence of legal loopholes. It is the outcome of political incentives that have normalised the nomination, election and continued presence of candidates with criminal backgrounds.
The law itself presents a constitutional dilemma. Under Section 8 of the Representation of the People Act, 1951, legislators are disqualified upon conviction for specified offences, particularly when sentenced to imprisonment of two years or more. However, the law does not prohibit individuals from contesting elections simply because criminal charges have been filed against them. At the heart of this distinction lies one of the oldest principles of criminal justice: every person is innocent until proven guilty.
This principle exists for a reason. If candidates could be barred from elections simply because criminal charges were filed against them, governments could misuse investigative agencies to target political opponents. The issue, therefore, is not black and white. Any reform must balance accountability with the principle of due process.
In Union of India v. Association for Democratic Reforms (2002), the Court recognised that voters have a fundamental right to know the criminal, financial, and educational backgrounds of electoral candidates. It held that transparency was indispensable to informed democratic participation.
A decade later, Lily Thomas v. Union of India (2013) marked another significant intervention by striking down Section 8(4) of the Representation of the People Act, which had allowed convicted legislators to continue in office while their appeals remained pending. The judgment reinforced the principle that elected representatives cannot claim privileges unavailable to ordinary citizens.
Yet, perhaps the most significant judicial acknowledgment of the limits of reform came in Public Interest Foundation v. Union of India (2018). Petitioners had urged the Court to disqualify candidates against whom serious criminal charges had already been framed. The Court declined, observing that such a decision lay within Parliament’s legislative domain rather than judicial authority. Instead, it strengthened disclosure requirements by directing political parties to publicise the criminal backgrounds of their candidates and explain the reasons behind their selection.
The problem was identified decades ago. In 1993, the N.N Vohra Committee warned about the growing links between politicians, criminals and business interests. It found that organised criminal groups were building close ties with political leaders and sections of the bureaucracy, allowing them to influence governance. More than 30 years later, those concerns remain as relevant as ever.
For political parties, the deciding factor is often not integrity but “winnability”. Candidates with money, influence and established local networks are viewed as electoral assets—even when they face serious criminal charges. Winning, more often than not, outweighs character.
If political parties continue to nominate such candidates, is the real problem the law, or the political incentives that reward them?
Another issue comes in the form of India’s judicial backlog. Criminal trials involving elected representatives often continue for years, and in some instances decades, before reaching conclusion. During this period, candidates remain legally eligible to contest elections because they have not been convicted. Justice delayed does more than deny justice—it reshapes elections. Cases linger for years, sometimes decades, allowing candidates to contest multiple elections before a verdict is ever delivered. What is meant to protect the innocent ends up shielding the unresolved.
Electoral choices are rarely made in a vacuum. Caste loyalties, local patronage networks and weak state institutions often shape voting behaviour as much as questions of legality. In constituencies where people have little faith in public institutions, candidates who project themselves as strong local leaders often continue to win support despite facing criminal charges.
For instance, leaders such as Anant Singh in Bihar and Mukhtar Ansari in Uttar Pradesh built significant political influence while facing numerous criminal cases. Many supporters viewed them as leaders who could resolve local disputes, protect community interests or deliver services more effectively than state institutions.
The debate has gained fresh momentum as a parliamentary committee examines the Constitution (130th Amendment) Bill, 2025. The Bill proposes that the Prime Minister, Chief Ministers and ministers who remain in custody for 30 consecutive days on serious criminal charges should automatically lose office.
The committee is expected to finalise its report before the Monsoon Session. Supporters argue that those holding executive office should meet higher ethical standards. Critics, however, warn that allowing arrests alone to trigger disqualification could enable governments to misuse investigative agencies against political opponents.
In the light of the then political scenario, a more balanced solution was suggested by the Law Commission’s 244th Report, which recommended disqualifying candidates only after charges are framed for offences punishable with at least five years’ imprisonment, provided this happens at least a year before the election. Combined with fast-track courts for cases involving elected representatives, such reforms could reduce both politically motivated cases and long delays in criminal trials.
India does not lack laws, committee reports or judicial directions. What it lacks is the political will to act on them. Until integrity becomes as valuable at the ballot box as influence and money, criminalisation will remain not an exception to Indian democracy, but one of its most enduring contradictions.
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Image credits: Illustrator Debashish Deb
Aarushi Chaubey
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