One Nation, One Election: A Reform or a Power Grab?
Few reforms in recent years have triggered as much debate as the proposal for “One Nation, One Election” (ONOE)—a system in which Lok Sabha and State Assembly elections would be held simultaneously across the country. The idea, recently revived with a high-level committee headed by former President Ram Nath Kovind, has been pitched as a solution to the “perpetual cycle of elections” that drains administrative resources, halts development work, and keeps the country in a constant state of political mobilisation. But beneath this promise of efficiency lies a deeper unease: is ONOE genuinely a democratic reform, or does it tilt the scales of power too heavily in favour of the Centre?
Proponents argue that the logic behind ONOE is straightforward. India spends enormous sums conducting elections—nearly ₹60,000 crore on the 2019 Lok Sabha and Assembly polls combined. Each election requires large-scale deployment of
security forces, disruption of school schedules, diversion of bureaucrats, and continuous election code restrictions that put development on pause. At a time when the Election Commission is grappling with logistical overload and public finances are strained, a consolidated election schedule seems fiscally prudent.
There is also a political argument: frequent elections, especially in big states, distort governance by forcing leaders into perpetual campaign mode. Policies get tailored for electoral optics, not long-term outcomes. Fragmented mandates across states often create contradictory political signals, fuelling instability and polarisation. A single, synchronised national mandate, supporters claim, could produce a more coherent policy environment.
But critics warn that this apparent neatness is deceptively simple. India is not—and was never designed to be—a politically uniform nation. The federal structure intentionally diffuses power, allowing states to articulate their unique social, cultural, and economic priorities. ONOE risks flattening this diversity. A national wave, driven by national personalities and narratives, could overshadow local issues. Voters may conflate national and state leadership, giving undue advantage to dominant national parties while marginalising smaller regional parties that thrive on local responsiveness.
More troubling is the constitutional complexity. Simultaneous elections would require altering the natural tenure ofstate assemblies—either extending them or prematurely dissolving them— which goes against the spirit of democratic federalism. What happens if a state government collapses due to a no-confidence motion? Will President’s Rule become the default mechanism to maintain the election calendar? Such possibilities raise legitimate concerns about concentrating power in the Union government through constitutional engineering.
The administrative challenges are equally formidable. Conducting one mega-election for nearly a billion voters would be the largest logistical exercise ever attempted in history— requiring millions of electronic voting machines, unprecedented security coordination, and a bureaucracy stretched to its limits. The claim that simultaneous elections would “reduce workload” is contradicted by the sheer scale such elections would entail.
The more philosophical question, however, goes beyond logistics: Should efficiency trump representation? Democracy is not meant to be a streamlined, managerial exercise. It is inherently noisy, cyclical, and participatory. Elections—frequent as they may be—force accountability. They give citizens recurring opportunities to negotiate with power. Reducing these democratic touchpoints may make governance smoother but risks making it more insulated from public scrutiny.
Yet, the idea cannot be dismissed outright. If India’s electoral process needs rationalisation, the conversation should shift towards staggered but predictable cycles—perhaps clustering elections or reforming the Model Code of Conduct—rather than imposing a single monolithic schedule. ONOE, in its absolute form, may be too blunt an instrument for a democracy as layered as India.
Ultimately, the debate over One Nation, One Election is not merely administrative—it is constitutional, political, and deeply moral. The choice before India is whether to pursue convenience at the risk of weakening federal balance, or to preserve democratic friction as the price of pluralism. In that tension lies the true test of India’s democratic maturity.
