Amidst the festive fervours of the electoral season, laden with processions, celebrations, and dynamism, the critical question persists: does the participatory spirit of DUSU elections still survive?
The month of September adorns the nation with a wide range of festivals, every weekend bringing to the fore another tile of the cultural mosaic that pieces Dilli together. True to its microcosmic nature, the University of Delhi steps into the season of retreating clouds with the festival of election, the jashn-e-satta. Streets dazzling with the chaos of participatory measures, music concerts and bhandara-like freebie stalls floating through the lanes, processions flow not in devotion to gods but allegiance to people, to democracy. The satya-ki-galiyan and kamla lanes turn into epochal grounds of jubilation, marked profoundly with the political propaganda of all the competing factions. In a nation that has borne the curse of giveaways for decades, the students don’t usually get driven away by the gluttony of political theatrics but rather opportunistically immerse themselves into the joy of the ‘free’. What’s left behind is the debris, not just of the material, but also of promises and initiatives that ought to have lived in these streets instead.
The Delhi University Student Union (DUSU) elections might appear loud, chaotic, or even the prodigal child of Indian politics. However, dismissal on those grounds strips away the political and intellectual imperatives it holds that are almost reflective of the paradoxes and possibilities of Indian democracy. German philosopher Jürgen Habermas situated democracy within the ‘public sphere’, the space where political opinions can be cultivated in the social arena through discussions and deliberations that fuel publicised discourse, which then influence governance and political action. Universities, when functioning optimally, represent a similar sphere where students formulate and refine their political beliefs and opinions.
At Delhi University, the DUSU elections transform everyday spaces into stages of political practices. The chai-ki-tapris near the colleges, the packed metros en route to academic spaces, and the student accommodation areas, all echo discourse on the political season. Albeit often divergent and contrary to each other, these discussions ensure that at least a certain degree of participation seeps into every stakeholder. Habermas’ construction of the ‘public’ holds profound relevance here: democracy cannot just be reduced to institutions of governance; it lives in the spaces of everyday discussions, the ‘public sphere’. And so, the cacophonous chaos of DUSU is not a distorted version of democracy but plausibly one of its most authentic enactments.
Carole Pateman’s theory of participatory democracy further strengthens this view, drawing upon earlier proponents of the same, in Rousseau, Mill, Cole and others. The refined theory argues that democracy cannot just be reduced to the act of casting a vote; it needs to sustain an active involvement in the decision-making and pre-electoral processes. Participation itself, she argues, is of educational value; it empowers citizens with the ability to deliberate, claim rights, and hold accountable their chosen representatives. The pre-election canvassing, the student interactions, and the presidential debates; all lead one to appreciate the didactic model of participatory democracy that DUSU elections embody.
However, the data speaks in a different code. While the voter turnout has witnessed a steady increase every year, it still stands at nearly half the voter turnout of the general elections of the nation, brewing questions for the voters: Does the participation from students restrict itself to the performative phase of the pre-election phases? And by extension, does the practice of deliberation and accountability dissipate once the vote is cast, creating a void where participatory temperament once held ground?
However, to see the elections through the lens of Pateman and Habermas allows for knowledge of only fractional perspectives of the election season. Gramsci’s reflections on hegemony extend into all institutional spaces, and inevitably into Delhi University as well. National and regional parties treat the DUSU elections as training and testing grounds, investing significant capital into shaping the candidates and their public perceptions. While some of them practice it overtly, others do it from behind drawn curtains. Thus elections, even in hyperlocal forms, risk reproducing the dominance of the privileged classes, with the apparently subordinate groups in agreement with it in most cases.
The sub-localised nature of the elections also attempts to ensure that the political arena remains a fluid space, wherein every movement births a counter-movement that finds expression—campaigns led by the diverse groups, independent candidates, and collectives might not always lead to electoral victory, but they do succeed in establishing a narrative alternative to the popular discourse. In essence, the DUSU elections uphold a central paradox of practicing democracy; they become simultaneous mechanisms for reproduction and contestation of prevailing ideologies.
Despite embodying the features of a participatory democracy, the DUSU elections fall short in most other avenues. The passive disengagement from a larger section of students, reflected in the less than 40 percent voter turnout, reveals the inconsequential temperament attached to the votes. This creates an enigma, wherein participatory measures exist, but their effectiveness lies in the students realising their own agencies. In the noise of campaign slogans and the clutter of posters, then, lies something far more enduring: the rehearsal of democracy itself. To participate in DUSU is to learn, however imperfectly, what it means to be a citizen in the largest democracy of the world.
Image Credits: DU Beat
Shikhar Pathak