Dipak Kurmi
(The writer can be reached at dipakkurmiglpltd@gmail.com.)
The Bodoland Territorial Council (BTC) elections, scheduled for September 22 with counting on September 26, mark another defining moment in Assam’s political landscape. More than a regional contest, this election carries the weight of history, the legacy of accords that transformed conflict into peace, and the ongoing search for dignity, autonomy, and inclusive development in one of India’s most distinctive autonomous regions. With 2,657,937 eligible voters—1,323,399 men, 1,334,521 women, and 17 categorised as “Others”—casting their ballots across 3,359 polling stations, the exercise represents more than a routine democratic ritual. It is a referendum on how far Bodoland has come since its violent struggles of the past and how capable its political institutions are in translating autonomy into meaningful prosperity.
The very act of holding an election in Bodoland is layered with symbolism. The BTC itself is the creation of peace accords, first the 2003 Bodo Accord that established the council under the Sixth Schedule of the Constitution, and later the 2020 Bodoland Territorial Region (BTR) Accord, which expanded and deepened that framework. These agreements were not simply about administrative boundaries but about healing a fractured past, offering Bodos a platform for self-determination while safeguarding the multicultural ethos of the region. The BTR Accord even elevated the Bodo language to associate official status, a gesture of symbolic and political significance that sought to marry ethnic pride with plural coexistence. Yet these accords were never endpoints; they were starting lines for an experiment in democratic autonomy. Two decades later, the question is whether Bodoland has harnessed these milestones into durable peace and progress or whether it remains trapped in the inertia of unfinished aspirations.
This election arrives at a moment of heightened political mobilisation. The ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), buoyed by Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma’s extensive campaign across 35 constituencies, has signalled its determination to expand its footprint by contesting all 40 BTC seats. In the 2020 elections, the BJP contested 24 and secured nine, lending crucial support to the United People’s Party Liberal (UPPL) in forming the council government. Today, that alliance has given way to a new strategy of independence, reflecting both the party’s growing organisational confidence and its ambition to emerge as the dominant political force in Bodoland. Sarma himself has emphasised that the overwhelming crowds at his rallies demonstrate a groundswell of support, assuring voters that his party is best placed to secure stability and reform.
Central to Sarma’s campaign is the call for reform in the Village Council Development Committee (VCDC) system, which he argues has left poor communities without the full benefits of decentralised governance. “Whether it is us or another party in government, the poor cannot benefit fully unless VCDC members are elected. There must be polls instead of selections,” he observed, pointing to a democratic deficit that continues to undermine local empowerment. His remarks highlight a core paradox of Bodoland’s autonomy: while institutions exist, their ability to function democratically and effectively remains uneven.
The BJP’s broader message in the BTR is continuity of peace and stability. Sarma has refrained from adversarial rhetoric against rivals such as the UPPL or Bodoland People’s Front (BPF), framing his campaign as one about sustaining the tranquillity achieved since the accords. Yet beneath this surface of confidence lies a competitive political arena where each major party—BJP, UPPL, BPF, Congress, and Asom Gana Parishad (AGP)—has opted to contest independently, eschewing alliances that defined the last council. This decision reflects more than tactical manoeuvring; it underscores a structural transformation in Bodoland’s politics.
For years, political fortunes in the BTC were shaped by alliances, negotiations, and shifting power equations between local and national players. The new “each party for itself” approach reveals both confidence and risk. For the BJP, it is the culmination of years of grassroots organisational building, a hybrid model that blends the discipline of a professional party, the resource flexibility of a catch-all formation, and the deep engagement of a mass party. This model manifests through tools such as the “Pristha Pramukh” system, where designated party workers maintain constant contact with voters, ensuring year-round engagement rather than election-season mobilisation. The party’s organizational maturity allows it to field candidates in every constituency, demonstrating its evolution from an outsider ally of the UPPL in 2020 to a direct contender for council leadership.
For the UPPL, BPF, Congress, and AGP, the decision to contest alone reflects the changing benchmarks of credibility. To succeed, these parties must now demonstrate not only their electoral viability but also their ability to sustain grassroots presence, deliver development, and govern inclusively. Their campaigns must respond to the heightened aspirations of Bodoland’s communities—aspirations not only for jobs, education, and infrastructure but also for recognition, dignity, and fair representation. In this sense, the 2024 BTC elections are as much a test of organizational capacity as they are of ideology or leadership.
But if electoral strategies define the immediate contest, the deeper questions of Bodoland’s journey cannot be ignored. At the heart of the region’s politics remains the sensitive terrain of language and identity. The 2003 and 2020 accords attempted to balance ethnic pride with multicultural coexistence, yet debates over official languages and cultural recognition continue to spark unease. Recent tensions, such as Bodo student organizations attempting to assert Bengali identity in official records or the state government’s insistence on Assamese as the official language, have reignited old fears of marginalisation. Language, when politicised, becomes more than a medium of communication; it becomes a weapon that can revive memories of exclusion and deepen communal divides. The challenge for Bodoland is to prevent these debates from undermining the fragile trust painstakingly built over the years.
Economic development remains another decisive frontier. While substantial grants from the Centre and state have flowed into the BTC since the accords, the council’s own revenue-generating capacity remains minimal. This dependence creates both fiscal vulnerability and governance limitations. Leaders such as BTC chief Pramod Boro have launched more than thirty flagship schemes—ranging from the Bodofa Super 50 education mission to youth livelihood initiatives and infrastructure projects—but even he concedes that frameworks and peace accords are only foundations. True autonomy demands the capacity to deliver tangible improvements, especially for the marginalised, and to adapt swiftly to changing needs. Without such dynamism, the promise of self-rule risks being reduced to symbolic autonomy rather than lived empowerment.
The stakes in this year’s election, therefore, go far beyond party fortunes. They concern the very credibility of autonomy as an idea. Bodoland stands at a crossroads where peace is real but still delicate, where institutions exist but struggle to meet expectations, and where communities aspire to both recognition and development. The outcome will determine whether the BTC continues as a platform for reconciling diversity with dignity or whether it lapses into the familiar pattern of fractured politics and unmet promises.
Moreover, Bodoland’s election is not an isolated event but part of a larger story of Assam’s—and indeed India’s—management of diversity. The BTC is one of the most visible experiments in constitutional autonomy under the Sixth Schedule. Its performance has implications for other regions grappling with identity, ethnicity, and governance. Success in Bodoland strengthens the argument that decentralised autonomy within the Indian Union can reconcile ethnic aspirations with national integrity. Failure, however, risks reinforcing scepticism about whether such frameworks can truly deliver.
As September 22 approaches, Bodoland’s voters carry with them the responsibility of shaping not just their council but also the narrative of how peace, identity, and democracy coexist in a region scarred by conflict yet animated by hope. With over 26 lakh voices to be heard across more than 3,300 polling stations, the verdict will echo beyond the forests and villages of the BTR. It will reverberate through Assam’s politics and India’s federal imagination. The BTC elections are often described as local, but they are never parochial. They are a litmus test for whether democracy in autonomous councils can evolve beyond symbolism into substantive empowerment. They are also a reminder that accords, however historic, are only as strong as the institutions and leaders that carry them forward. In 2003, the first accord gave Bodoland the tools of autonomy. In 2020, the second accord renewed the promise of peace and coexistence. In 2024, it is up to the people of Bodoland to decide whether these tools and promises will be harnessed into a durable future.
The BTC election is not just about who governs for the next five years. It is about whether Bodoland continues its fragile but determined journey from conflict to coexistence, from accords to achievements, and from aspirations to realities. It is about whether identity can coexist with inclusivity, whether autonomy can translate into development, and whether democracy can be more than just procedure—whether it can be transformation.