Six weeks can be a very long time in Indian politics. On February 10 this year, Congress MP Pradyot Bordoloi angrily tweeted against Assam Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma after a controversial video surfaced of Sarma shooting at a man in Muslim attire. ‘Shame on you HBS. Never before we saw such a fanatical re-invention of a politician who has single-handedly damaged and ruptured the legendary social fabric of Assam,’ commented the senior Congress leader.
On March 18, Bordoloi was standing next to Sarma, sheepishly grinning as he wore a BJP scarf and cap, welcomed now as a “valued karyakarta” by the same party whose Assam unit in August 2025 had accused him of being ‘one of the most corrupt, manipulative power-brokers Assam has seen.’
The well-spoken Bordoloi has followed a script that is so familiar that it barely surprises anymore. Defections ahead of an election are no longer an aberration; it is the new normal in a political universe where the only ‘ism’ left is opportunism.
Assam’s political arc exemplifies this. Chief Minister Sarma, easily the most prominent face of Assam BJP’s current leadership, once rose through the Congress ranks before switching sides and scripting a new trajectory. The hyper-ambitious Sarma famously claimed that he left the Congress because Rahul Gandhi ill-treated him by offering him biscuits that he was feeding his pet dog.
The well-spun storyline could not mask the fact that Sarma was desperate to be anointed as chief minister in waiting. Since then, what began as an individual decision has evolved into a steady pipeline. In constituency after constituency, the BJP’s expanding footprint is not just the result of electoral victories – it is built on the quiet, continuous import of Congress leaders. As many as a third of the BJP candidates in Assam once fought elections on a Congress symbol.
Which is why it may be time to ask a provocative question: Has “Congress-mukt Bharat” quietly morphed into a “Congress-yukt BJP”, not just in Assam but across India? The data suggests this is more than rhetorical flourish. In the 2024 general elections, over a hundred BJP candidates were political defectors, mainly from the Congress. Over the past decade, over 200 plus MLAs and MPs have joined the Modi-led BJP with Congress accounting for around 40% of the defectors. What we are witnessing then is not merely the decline of one party and the rise of another. It is something more layered: the absorption of a political ecosystem. The BJP is no longer just displacing the Congress; it is, in many ways, inheriting it – its leaders, its networks, even parts of its social base.
This raises an uncomfortable question about ideology. For decades, Indian politics was framed around clear – if sometimes overstated – ideological divides. The Congress positioned itself as secular and centrist; the BJP as nationalist with a distinct cultural worldview. Yet, in today’s churn, these boundaries appear remarkably fluid. Leaders who once warned against the BJP’s Hindutva politics now defend it with equal vigour. Manifestos seem less like commitments and more like costumes – easily changed, rarely binding.
Does this mean ideology is dead? Not quite. But it does mean that ideology has been demoted. Power (and wealth) is now the primary organising principle of politics. In a system where electoral success is increasingly concentrated, the incentives are obvious. Align with the dominant force and remain relevant or risk political obsolescence. But this is not just about opportunism; it is about party structures. The asymmetry of power between the ruling party and the opposition has widened. Access to funding, media visibility and organisational muscle is heavily skewed.
The anti-defection law, meanwhile, has struggled to keep pace with political ingenuity. Designed to prevent instability, it has been repeatedly circumvented through engineered splits and mergers. What was meant to safeguard the voter’s mandate now often legitimises its subversion.
Compounding the moral crisis in political behaviour is the organisational decline of the Congress. Once the central pole of Indian politics, it now finds itself unable to retain or regenerate leadership in key states. For many of its leaders, the party no longer offers a credible pathway to power. Defection, in that sense, becomes less a betrayal and more a calculation.
The consequences for India’s party system are profound. We are moving away from a competitive multi-party framework towards a dominant-party system with porous boundaries. The BJP’s expansion is not just electoral; it is absorptive. It is becoming the default destination for political ambition.
For voters, this creates a democratic dilemma. When a representative elected on one party’s ticket switches sides, the mandate is effectively transferred without consent. The voter’s choice is diluted, even nullified. And yet, the story is not entirely one of voter helplessness. In many cases, defectors are re-elected, suggesting that voters are willing to prioritise proximity to power over ideological consistency. The promise of development, access and influence often outweighs concerns about political fidelity.
This duality – cynicism on one hand, pragmatism on the other – defines our current moment. So what can be done?
One possible reform is to alter the incentive structure. If an elected representative knows that switching sides will not immediately translate into office, the calculus may change. A rule barring defectors from holding ministerial positions for a fixed period – say, five years – could act as a deterrent. It would not eliminate defections, but it would strip them of their most immediate reward.
At the same time, the anti-defection framework needs urgent tightening. Loopholes that allow mass defections under the guise of splits must be closed. The adjudication process should be insulated from partisan control, perhaps by vesting it in an independent authority rather than the Speaker.
But ultimately, no legal reform can substitute for political renewal. As long as the opposition remains fragmented and organisationally weak, the incentives for defection will endure. The answer lies as much in rebuilding credible alternatives as in regulating political behaviour.
(Rajdeep Sardesai is a senior
journalist and author.)
