Recently, the Indian Parliament unanimously passed The Constitution (One Hundred and Twenty-Eighth Amendment) Bill. The historic legislation, passed after a considerable delay, has been further postponed beyond delimitation exercise. However, the notable aspect is that the ‘unanimity’ expressed by political parties and functionaries has failed to materialise on the ground. This line of argument is corroborated by a recent data released by the Election Commission of India, which reveals that a mere 134 women will be contesting out of a total of 1,625 candidates in the first phase of the mammoth seven-phase elections. In percentage terms, the share of women candidates in the overall pool for the first phase is 8 per cent—slightly lower than the total percentage of women candidates in 2019 General Elections. Back then, out of the total of 8,049 candidates in the fray, less than 9 per cent were women.
It is being argued by some that while the number of men contesting elections has multiplied by five times, for women, the growth has been 16-fold. Such interpretations, though not factually incorrect, are self-consoling (or self-praising). Considering that a mere 2.9 per cent of candidates in 1957 were women, the scope of progression for women is much higher than it stands today. The rise of women in most other competitive fields has been way to higher than is witnessed in electoral participation. Even in the electoral domain, women, as voters, have come at par with men in deciding the fate of candidates. This goes on to show that women folk have matured considerably in the political realm throughout the course of independent India. Their marginal representation in the Parliament—and the Council of Ministers—is thus a result of structural shortcomings, more than educational, social, cultural and other impediments.
Though not the sole factor, the inherent patriarchal mindset prevailing in the country’s political system is a major one. Another impediment adding to the reluctance of political parties in fielding female candidates is the flawed perception of low winnability of female candidates. This is a self-caused inertia, strengthened by the dominance of notorious muscle & money factor of Indian politics.
Reports suggest during the 1957 General Elections, 22 of the 45 female candidates emerged victorious, achieving a 48.88 per cent success rate. However, this rate has steadily decreased over the years; by 2019, it had fallen to just 10.74 per cent. The decline in the success rate of male candidates has been equally steep—declining from 31.7 per cent in 1957 to a mere 6.4 per cent in 2019. This trend can be explained by the fact that number of candidates, both men and women, has increased over the years, which is a welcome sign.
If deployed strategically, women candidates stand equal, if not more, chances of winning. The sooner political parties arrive at this realisation, the better it would be for them, and for the health of Indian democracy and society as well. The enactment of the women’s reservation bill will also yield better results only if political parties become aware of this fact.
However, one cannot afford to completely overlook other areas that need to be worked upon—dismantling of ‘internalised patriarchy’ among women, placing legal obligations on political parties to prioritise female participation, ensuring financial autonomy of women, and removing the impediments that come along their way of achieving educational excellence and political maturity.