In Niccolò Machiavelli’s 16th-century classic ‘The Prince’, the Italian thinker advised rulers that power is best preserved not through moral purity but through pragmatic cunning: “It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both.” A leader must be both a lion and a fox, ferocious when needed, deceptive when necessary and adapt instantly to shifting circumstances.
Five centuries later, this playbook finds a striking echo in contemporary Goa, where the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) has used calculated alliances, local strongmen, selective patronage and ruthless adaptability to cling to power despite repeated challenges.
The most recent demonstration came in the Corporation of the City of Panaji (CCP) elections held on March 11, 2026, with results declared on March 13. The BJP-backed panel led by Revenue Minister and Panaji MLA Atanasio ‘Babush’ Monserrate swept 27 of 30 wards, decimating the rival ‘Ami Panjekar’ group supported by Utpal Parrikar (son of the late chief minister Manohar Parrikar). Voter turnout hit an impressive 69.07%. Chief Minister Pramod Sawant immediately hailed the victory as a “trailer” for the 2027 assembly elections, signalling that the party’s grip on Goa’s capital remains ironclad. Behind this landslide lies a textbook application of Machiavellian statecraft – adapted to Goa’s small-state, personality-driven politics.
Goa’s BJP government has never enjoyed the absolute majorities seen in larger states. Since returning to power in 2012 (and retaining it in 2017 and 2022), it has survived through razor-thin margins, frequent defections and uneasy alliances with regional players like the Maharashtrawadi Gomantak Party and independents. In such a fragile ecosystem, survival demands constant vigilance and flexibility – the very qualities Machiavelli prescribed. Babush Monserrate personifies this approach. Once aligned with Congress, he switched to BJP years ago, bringing with him a formidable local network in Taleigao and Panaji. Machiavelli would approve: “A prince who is not himself wise cannot be well advised.” Babush’s wisdom lies in his ability to read the political winds and pivot without hesitation.
For the 2026 CCP polls, the BJP did not contest openly on party symbols an ostensibly “non-political” civic election. Instead, it floated a ‘Babush panel’ that fielded candidates in all 30 wards, backed by the full organisational muscle of the ruling party. This move allowed plausible deniability while ensuring resources flowed freely: booth-level workers, transport for voters and targeted development promises in key pockets. Opposition’s attempts to unite under the ‘Ami Panjekar’ banner, framed as a citizens’ movement against alleged incumbency and family dominance, collapsed under the weight of superior mobilisation. Only three wards fell to the challengers, including a nail-biting two-vote win in Ward 17 after a recount. Machiavelli’s advice on dividing enemies was executed perfectly: the Parrikar faction, once the BJP’s own ideological kin, was isolated and portrayed as disruptive outsiders.
The Monserrate family’s dynastic control over the CCP – Babush’s son Rohit is the sitting Mayor – further illustrates Machiavellian patronage. Local corporators owe their positions to the patriarch’s benevolence; in return, they deliver votes and loyalty. When anti-incumbency murmurs surfaced in certain wards, the panel quietly adjusted candidates or promised hyper-local fixes (road repairs, drainage, street lighting). Fear and favour worked in tandem: voters knew that crossing Babush risked losing access to ministerial favours, while supporting him guaranteed continued civic largesse.
This local triumph also serves a larger survival strategy for the BJP in Goa. The state’s politics is notoriously factional. Congress remnants, regional outfits and independents constantly sniff for cracks. By dominating Panaji, the capital and the symbolic heart of Goa, the BJP sends a message of inevitability. Sawant’s “trailer” remark was no idle boast; it psychologically prepares the ground for 2027, discouraging potential rebels and attracting fence-sitters. In Machiavellian terms, the CCP win creates an aura of invincibility –“fortune favours the bold” – while quietly punishing disloyalty.
Critics, of course, decry these tactics as cynical. The use of ministerial clout in a municipal poll, the blurring of party and personal loyalty and the marginalisation of genuine citizen voices raise ethical questions. Yet Machiavelli never claimed his advice was moral; he argued it was realistic. In Goa’s hyper-local democracy, where turnout can swing on family ties and neighbourhood grudges, idealism rarely survives first contact with reality. The BJP has simply internalised this lesson better than its fragmented opponents.
Babush Monserrate’s enduring dominance offers another Machiavellian insight: appearances matter more than reality. Publicly, he projects the image of a development-focused leader; privately, he maintains a network that rewards allies and sidelines threats. Even when he was briefly out of formal BJP favour in earlier years, he retained CCP control through proxies. This ability to operate above and below the party line simultaneously is pure fox-like cunning.
As Goa heads toward the 2027 assembly polls, the CCP results have bought the BJP breathing room. Internal dissent can be managed, opposition unity fractured and the narrative of “stability and development” reinforced. Whether this approach ultimately serves the state’s long-term interests is debatable. What is undeniable is its short-term effectiveness: in a volatile political landscape, the BJP has once again followed Machiavelli’s timeless dictum, secure power first, worry about virtue later.
In the end, the Prince of Panaji has reminded everyone why ‘The Prince’ remains relevant: in politics, survival is the ultimate virtue, and the BJP in Goa has mastered the art of staying alive.
(Dr Mohit Sukhtankar is Assistant Professor (Political Science), Dhempe College, Miramar, Panaji.)
