The recent incidents in which workers of rival political parties attacked each other, forcibly snatched nomination papers from candidates, and fled the scene represent not merely street violence, but a direct criminal assault on the Constitution of India itself. Filing a nomination is not a symbolic ritual—it is a fundamental democratic right protected under Article 326, which guarantees free and fair elections. When candidates are physically stopped from filing their papers through intimidation and violence, it becomes a case of constitutional sabotage, not just political rivalry. It is the transformation of elections into a battlefield where brute force attempts to replace the rule of law.
Under the Representation of the People Act, 1951, obstructing a candidate from filing nominations, using physical force, threatening voters or candidates, and disrupting the electoral process are serious criminal offenses. In addition, such acts attract multiple sections of the Indian Penal Code, including Section 323 (voluntarily causing hurt), Section 341 (wrongful restraint), Section 506 (criminal intimidation), and Section 353 (assault on public servants)—especially when nomination officers and government officials are present. Yet despite the seriousness of these crimes, the perpetrators often behave as if they are above the law, shielded by political patronage and collective silence.
Several workers were injured in these violent clashes. Some were taken to hospitals with head wounds and fractures, while fear and panic spread across the surrounding areas. These injuries are not political achievements—they are the physical evidence of a complete collapse of constitutional discipline. Behind every injured body lies a family thrown into anxiety, financial instability, and legal uncertainty. Yet when the dust settles, the people who orchestrated the confrontation vanish into party offices and media sound bites, leaving the injured workers to face police cases, court appearances, and social consequences alone.
The most devastating aspect of this violence is that nothing meaningful was gained by those who carried it out. No election was legitimately won. No legal victory was secured. No ideological triumph was achieved. Instead, the only lasting outcome is this: they multiplied the number of their enemies. By choosing violence over law, they planted seeds of revenge that will now grow in their lanes, villages, neighborhoods, and future gatherings. Today’s attacker becomes tomorrow’s accused—and often tomorrow’s victim. This is not strength; this is the beginning of a lifelong cycle of insecurity.
Such political lawlessness strikes at the heart of Article 14 (Right to Equality before Law) and Article 19 (Freedom of Speech and Expression, including political participation). When one citizen is violently prevented from contesting an election, it sends a terrifying message to others: that constitutional rights exist only on paper, while real power flows from intimidation. This destroys public confidence in the Election Commission, the police, and even the courts—institutions designed to protect democratic balance.
Even more dangerous is the social lesson this violence teaches the youth. When young workers see that nomination papers can be snatched through muscle power instead of challenged through legal objection, they internalize the belief that force is more effective than law. This erodes respect for the judiciary, weakens obedience to institutions, and cultivates a generation that equates politics with terror rather than service. In the long run, this mindset is far more destructive than any single violent incident.
Political parties that fail to discipline such behavior become silent partners in constitutional crimes. When leadership justifies attacks as “provocation” or “reaction,” they effectively legitimize criminal conduct. This is not merely moral failure—it is institutional decay. Parties that seek power through unlawful means eventually destroy the very governance system they wish to control. History shows that once violence becomes a political tool, it eventually turns inward and devours its own creators.
For the workers at the ground level, this violence is especially cruel. They risk imprisonment under non-bailable sections, lifelong criminal records, job losses, and social isolation. They endanger their families’ security and their children’s future. Meanwhile, senior leaders continue their political careers, often untouched by legal consequence. Blind loyalty without legal awareness becomes self-destruction disguised as bravery.
At the conclusion of this violent episode, one undeniable truth stands above all political arguments: the only thing that was genuinely increased was the number of enemies. Not public trust. Not political legitimacy. Not moral authority. Only hatred, fear, legal trouble, and social fragmentation were multiplied. Elections will end. Governments will change. But enmities born in blood have the power to survive for decades.
A democratic nation cannot survive if nomination papers are treated like war trophies and elections like territorial battles. Politics must return to the boundaries drawn by the Constitution—to ballots instead of batons, to law instead of lawlessness, to debate instead of bloodshed. Otherwise, the streets will replace Parliament, fear will replace freedom, and democracy will be reduced to a hollow word spoken on ceremonial occasions.