India's electoral debate has increasingly become fixated on the Electronic Voting Machine—whether it can be trusted, whether its results should be subjected to more extensive verification, and whether the country should return to paper ballots.
But a broader and more consequential view of India's electoral future emerges from the recent interviews of O.P. Rawat, the 22nd Chief Election Commissioner of India. His message is not simply a defence of EVMs. It is a defence of the institutional architecture of Indian democracy, coupled with a call to examine those parts of the electoral system that have not kept pace with a maturing democracy.
For Rawat, the fundamental achievement of Indian democracy is that elections have replaced violence as the means of resolving political conflict. In earlier times, he observes, the question of who would rule was settled through battles and wars in which thousands died. Elections transformed that process into a peaceful, institutionalised contest for political power.
That achievement, in his view, needs to be protected—but also strengthened.
The constitutional institution at the heart of democracy
Rawat's understanding of the Election Commission begins with its constitutional status.
The Election Commission of India was established on January 25, 1950, a day before the Constitution came into force. Rawat says this was a conscious decision because the Constitution-makers and political leadership understood that democracy required an election authority independent of government influence and other pressures.
Article 324 gave the Commission responsibility for the preparation and updating of electoral rolls and, crucially, the "superintendence, direction and control" of elections. Rawat regards these as exceptionally wide powers.
His interpretation of Article 324 is particularly important. Where an unforeseen challenge arises during an election and existing legislation contains no specific provision to deal with it, the Commission can exercise its constitutional powers to ensure the integrity of the electoral process. He refers to the Supreme Court's interpretation of these plenary powers and to the Commission's use of them during his tenure.
The example he gives is striking.
In one constituency, the Commission detected the distribution of an estimated ₹89 crore among roughly five lakh voters. There was no specific statutory provision providing for cancellation of an election merely because of such large-scale cash distribution. Yet the Commission concluded that the electoral atmosphere had been vitiated and cancelled the election, relying on its constitutional powers. Rawat says the decision survived challenges before the High Court and Supreme Court.
The larger lesson is clear: the independence and authority of the Election Commission are not peripheral features of Indian democracy; they are central to it.
EVMs: a technological reform, not the whole electoral reform debate
Rawat's defence of EVMs is unequivocal, but it is grounded primarily in the problems they were introduced to address.
He recalls the era when ballot-paper elections could involve booth capturing, ballot stuffing and extraordinarily prolonged counting. He himself recalls having spent two days and two nights at a counting table.
EVMs, he argues, dramatically changed that environment.
Most significantly, they made traditional booth capturing far more difficult. With ballot papers, armed men could allegedly enter a booth and stuff large numbers of ballots in a short period. An EVM, by contrast, requires individual votes to be cast sequentially, making mass fraudulent voting much more difficult and time-consuming. Rawat also points to another advantage: the near-elimination of invalid votes caused by incorrectly marked ballot papers.
His confidence extends to the EVM-VVPAT verification architecture. He says EVMs and VVPAT systems undergo first-level checks, randomisation, troubleshooting and mock polls in the presence of representatives of political parties and candidates. The Election Commission's EVM status documentation, he says, addresses the objections that have been raised against the technology.
Rawat therefore sees the EVM not as an obstacle to electoral credibility but as one of the important institutional and technological reforms that have strengthened Indian elections.
Why 100 per cent VVPAT counting is not necessarily the answer
This is where Rawat's argument becomes more nuanced.
He does not argue against verification. Rather, he questions the assumption that 100 per cent manual counting of VVPAT slips is automatically the best way to establish electoral integrity.
He points out that the Supreme Court has already increased the number of VVPAT samples to be counted and that the system provides for further counting where a candidate raises a specific complaint and the Returning Officer considers it warranted.
More importantly, Rawat believes that wholesale manual counting could itself introduce vulnerabilities. VVPAT slips are small and, in a high-stakes contest, even a small act of deliberate interference could create a mismatch and undermine confidence in the entire technology.
His argument, therefore, is essentially that verification must strengthen the system rather than create another avenue for its disruption.
That is an important distinction in the EVM debate.
The bigger problem: money in elections
If the EVM controversy dominates public debate, Rawat's interviews suggest that money power is a much more substantive electoral reform challenge.
The problem, according to him, lies in a structural anomaly.
Individual candidates face expenditure ceilings. Political parties do not.
Rawat points out that a candidate may be subject to a statutory expenditure limit while a political party can spend crores of rupees in the same constituency. Party expenditure can therefore effectively overwhelm the candidate-level ceiling. He says parties can deliberately publicise the party symbol and campaign in a manner that makes it difficult to attribute expenditure to an individual candidate.
His prescription is straightforward:
There should be a ceiling on political-party expenditure as well.
He believes the surveillance mechanisms already used for candidates—including flying squads, observers and expenditure audits—could be extended to monitor party expenditure.
He also identifies another channel of election expenditure: money spent by vested interests, political action committees, donors and corporate interests seeking to defeat candidates considered hostile to their interests. Such expenditure, he says, can move through illegal channels and can be penalised when detected.
This is arguably one of the most important points emerging from Rawat's interviews. Electoral integrity is not merely about how a vote is recorded; it is also about the conditions under which voters are approached and political competition is financed.
Is first-past-the-post still enough?
Rawat also raises a fundamental question about political representation.
India's first-past-the-post system means that a candidate who receives the largest number of votes in a constituency wins, even when that candidate does not receive a majority. At the aggregate level, this can produce another anomaly: a political party may secure a substantial percentage of the overall vote but win few or no seats.
Rawat believes India should seriously consider introducing an element of proportional representation.
His suggestion is not necessarily to abandon first-past-the-post altogether. Instead, he proposes retaining the existing system while reserving some seats for proportional representation. That would give parliamentary or assembly representation to parties that may secure, say, 7, 8 or 10 per cent of the vote but fail to win any individual constituency.
The principle behind his argument is simple: if a significant number of voters support a political party, those voters should have a voice in the legislature.
He describes this as an idea worth considering for a "maturing democracy."
This could potentially become one of the most consequential electoral reform debates in India—one that moves the conversation beyond the technology of voting to the philosophy of representation itself.
The Indian voter: more mature than politicians may assume
Perhaps the most refreshing element in Rawat's assessment is his faith in the Indian voter.
He rejects the simplistic assumption that the distribution of money, goods or other inducements automatically determines how people vote.
He recounts an incident involving labourers at a construction site in a southern state. An Election Commission flying squad had intercepted a political party vehicle allegedly distributing money, sugar and rice. The workers objected to the seizure. But when Rawat asked what they were saying, he was told that their position was essentially: let politicians distribute whatever they want; they would enjoy the benefit, but when the election came, they would still vote for the best candidate.
For Rawat, the incident demonstrated something important: material inducement does not necessarily translate into political obedience.
His confidence in voter maturity provides an interesting counterpoint to the increasingly cynical view that Indian elections are determined principally by freebies, cash, caste or communal mobilisation.
It does not mean these factors are irrelevant. Rather, Rawat's argument is that the Indian voter retains an independent capacity to make a political choice.
The Model Code: flexibility rather than legal rigidity
Rawat offers an equally interesting explanation for why the Model Code of Conduct has not been given statutory backing.
His reasoning is pragmatic.
The judicial process can take years or even decades, whereas an election campaign may last only a month or two. If every violation of the Model Code had to go through a prolonged legal process, the remedy could arrive long after the election was over.
The Model Code therefore works, in his view, because it permits the Election Commission to respond quickly, examine facts and evidence, and take immediate action with an exemplary effect on parties and candidates.
Rawat also makes an important distinction between governance and electoral interference. Government does not simply come to a halt when the Model Code is imposed. Routine policy and administrative processes continue. What is restricted are new measures or announcements that could directly influence voters during the electoral process.
His defence of the Model Code is therefore essentially a defence of speed and enforceability over procedural formalism.
Informed voting must be the next frontier
Rawat agrees with the proposition that voting should be an informed activity.
Ideally, voters should have adequate information about what political parties intend to do before they cast their ballots. He acknowledges, however, that political parties sometimes take time to finalise their manifestos.
This points to a broader reform agenda.
An electoral democracy cannot be judged solely by whether votes are recorded accurately. The quality of democracy also depends on whether citizens have a reasonable opportunity to understand the competing political choices before them.
The integrity of the vote begins before the voter enters the polling booth.
The rural-urban divide—and the problem of apathy
Rawat also discusses voter turnout.
He observes that rural turnout has traditionally been higher than urban turnout. His explanation is revealing: some urban voters believe their individual vote will make little difference because the winning candidate may defeat the runner-up by a large margin. The result is that voting day becomes an opportunity for leisure rather than civic participation.
At the same time, he says urban apathy is slowly declining as the Election Commission makes greater efforts to encourage participation.
The challenge, therefore, is not merely to prevent electoral malpractice. It is also to ensure that citizens actually participate.
Digital voting: technology cannot replace social realities
Rawat is open to technological evolution but warns against assuming that every technologically possible innovation is democratically desirable.
On online or digital voting, he points to India's enormous social and economic diversity. Millions of citizens are not digitally literate or economically independent. Some vulnerable workers may be under the control of employers or other powerful individuals.
In such circumstances, an online voting system could potentially expose a voter's electoral choice to coercion. Rawat says the Election Commission has been examining biometric voter identification for possible future online voting, but he recognises the challenges.
The lesson is significant:
electoral technology must be designed around the realities of Indian society, not merely around technological possibility.
Beyond the EVM debate
Taken together, O.P. Rawat's interviews present a considerably broader picture of India's electoral future than the polarised EVM debate usually allows.
He is clearly confident about the basic robustness of India's electoral machinery. He believes the ECI possesses formidable constitutional powers, that EVM-VVPAT safeguards are extensive, and that Indian voters are considerably more mature than they are sometimes assumed to be.
But he does not portray the system as perfect.
His reform agenda points towards:
• an expenditure ceiling for political parties;
• greater attention to illicit and third-party election financing;
• experimentation with proportional representation alongside first-past-the-post;
• better-informed voters;
• continued strengthening of voter participation;
• preservation of the Election Commission's independence and constitutional authority;
• and technological innovation that recognises India's social realities.
This is a markedly different way of looking at electoral reform.
The question is not simply whether an EVM can be trusted.
The more fundamental questions are: Can the voter participate without coercion? Can political parties compete without unlimited money? Does every substantial body of voters receive meaningful representation? Can the Election Commission act independently and swiftly? And does the citizen have enough information to make an informed choice?
These are ultimately questions about the quality of democracy itself.
Rawat's prescription, therefore, is neither to romanticise the past nor to blindly embrace every new technology. It is to protect what works, correct what does not, and evolve India's electoral system as its democracy matures.
And perhaps that is the most important message to take from a former Chief Election Commissioner who has seen the machinery of Indian elections from inside: the future of India's democracy will not be decided by the EVM alone. It will be decided by the integrity of the entire electoral ecosystem surrounding it.
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Source note: This article is based on the YouTube transcripts of interviews of O.P. Rawat, former 22nd Chief Election Commissioner of India. The article distinguishes Rawat's stated positions from the editorial analysis built around them.