Indians are certainly not the only electorate who choose their leader on the basis of feelings rather than reason. This is simply part of being human. Perhaps the ideal democracy has never existed – can never exist – because it relies on voters leaving aside their most deeply rooted feelings and making a decision based on rational objectivity. And all of us – Indians, Americans, British, Japanese, Nigerians, Brazilians – are messy, complex and emotional beings.

Our choices are fuelled by a strong brew of anger and hope, by our sense of identity and by the desire for personal over collective benefit. It isn’t just India. Throughout Europe, Nationalist parties have risen to power over recent years as people feel the pressure of economic hardship and look for easy explanations and and something to blame. In the UK, the Brexit campaign succeeded on the back of its slogan promising to “Take Back Control”. People who felt disenfranchised and angry with the political class were offered a scapegoat for their feelings in the form of the European Union, and a way to express them in the form of a referendum. We all want simple answers, and strong leadership.

Narendra Modi embodies the idea of the strong leader, and carefully crafts his image as the defender of the nation. In a time of uncertainty, powerful rhetoric goes a long way. So do the feelings of Hindu nationalism he stirs up, creating a strong sense of identity and an “other” in the form of the Muslim minority.

Perhaps most crucially of all, the government currently exercises an unprecedented level of control over the national media. They are also adept at using online social media for campaigning, while the Congress party has failed to keep up with new channels to reach voters. Modi’s visibility – in the papers, on television, online – makes him seem the stronger candidate.

The governance of India has been so corrupt for so long, it is simply impossible to conceive of how it could function any other way. If the question is simply: “Do you want things to be different?” then the answer is simple. The BJP came to power on the strength of a resounding “Yes” to this question. We want a country where our leaders are held accountable, where everyone has a chance at success, where the economy functions as it should and where the most vulnerable are offered support.

The following question is not a simple yes or no: “How do we make this change, and what will the end result look like?” It’s a question that never makes it to the election campaign, because it involves far more complexity and long-term vision than most politicians can deal with – or that most voters want to deal with.

This is because our feelings about our society are complex too. We want it to be better, but it’s been the way it is for so many years that we just can’t believe this is possible. On a global scale, we want to protect the environment and avoid the chaos of runaway climate change. Yet we simply can’t believe in or imagine a world where financial profit takes second place to a greener future and social justice. Such radical change is too full of unknowns, too frightening.

It’s the same on a national level. Deep down, the change we want brings too many uncertainties with it – the rhetoric is electrifying, the reality terrifying. And unimaginable. So we vote for someone who promises to reform the system without actually changing the system. Someone like Narendra Modi. In this framework, at least we can see how we, personally, might profit. Yet, at the same time, this response side-steps the radical systemic deconstruction and rebuilding that it would take to create a truly just and functional society.

A political leadership that changes every five years, in which leaders are not obliged to uphold the agreements of their predecessors, is a recipe for trouble and short-term thinking. Take the example of Amaravati, in Andhra Pradesh.

The last state government made the decision to develop Amaravati into a new global mega-city and business hub to rival Singapore. It would be the new state capital of Andhra Pradesh, and an opportunity to create a metropolis built for the twenty-first century almost from scratch. The Chief Minister, N. Chandrababu Naidu, had ambitious plans; but his track record in Hyderbad, the former state capital which developed into a global leader in information technology and the pharmaceutical industry during his time in office, gave people confidence. The future of the region seemed assured, and everyone – from the local farmers who agreed to pool their land for development to the international investors who backed the project – were full of optimism.

Then, in the 2019 elections, the state government changed. The new Chief Minister, Y. S. Jagan Mohan Reddy, has shown himself to be determined to backtrack on all the previous administration’s agreements, and in December 2019 announced that Andhra Pradesh would have not one but three capital cities. The focus shifted away from Amaravati, development stopped immediately, and financial support - including $300 million of funding from the World Bank – was pulled out. The skyscrapers recently built to provide office space now stand empty, and the farmers who contributed their land to the project, with the promise of a share of the profit and a higher quality of life, have taken to the streets in protest.

How could this be allowed to happen? In a system of governance fit for purpose, there would be strong, impartial institutions that would first ensure that such a huge development project was viable, and then ensure that it was completed according to plan – regardless of any change of administration. The state would be obliged to honour the contracts made by the previous government. Jagan Mohan Reddy has done the exact opposite, putting an end to the last five years of work, and caused chaos with his abrupt change of plan.

In a situation like this, one that calls for long-term vision and planning, state governments must be obliged to provide stability and continuity rather than making such dramatic u-turns.

A democracy can only exist when there is an underlying system that can hold the government to account. That means an effective justice system, in which no one is above the law and freedom of expression so people can speak out against injustice when they see it (in the media or online). It also means a civil service that functions without corruption and ensures that correct procedures are followed, universities that foster free speech and an economy that is not in the hands of politicians.

India lacks these things, and Modi’s government is steadily chipping away at what little exists. In 2017, for example, the BJP’s finance minister argued that freedom of expression should be subordinate to upholding the sovereignty of the country. What that means, of course, is always up to the government. It’s all too easy to accuse anyone critical of the current leadership of threatening national interests.

We have a constitution, one designed to be the foundation of this framework. It protects the right to freedom of expression and an impartial justice system. It provides a system to stop those in power from abusing it. Yet without any strong institutions to ensure that the constitution is implemented, it is mere words.

The democratic system may never be perfect - but India could do better.