Vote buying and vote selling are widely discussed in many constituencies, and the practice is often treated as an open secret. But blaming voters alone gives only part of the picture.
A Anato Swu
Ask people why Nagaland has not developed as it should, and the answers differ. Some blame the government. Others point to weak institutions, poor planning, corruption or a lack of accountability. A common refrain, especially around election time, is that the public is to blame: voters sell their votes, then complain about the leaders they elected.
There is truth in the concern. Vote buying and vote selling are widely discussed in many constituencies, and the practice is often treated as an open secret. But blaming voters alone gives only part of the picture. Not every voter is for sale, and an election is not simply a transaction between a candidate and an individual voter. Behind the money that reaches a household is a much larger network of people who decide how campaign funds are raised, handled and spent.
In villages, some voters may feel they have little chance of meeting their elected representative once the election is over. They may expect to wait five years before being heard again. When a candidate’s campaign workers or local agents offer cash to voters in exchange for their votes, some people accept it—not because they believe the practice is right, but because they feel the elected representative may be out of reach once the election is over. For them, the money in hand seems like the only certain benefit they will receive from a political system that otherwise feels distant. Some voters reportedly accept money from more than one candidate and vote as they choose. These choices deserve scrutiny, but so do the conditions that make such transactions possible.
Most people understand that a serious election campaign costs money. Candidates need teams to organise meetings, travel between communities, communicate with supporters and coordinate activity across constituencies. They rely on campaign coordinators, local organisers, polling agents, community liaisons and other trusted intermediaries. These people can play legitimate and important roles. The problem arises when those entrusted with campaign funds use their position for personal gain.
Money said to be intended for campaign expenses, transport, food, community events or voter outreach may not always reach its stated purpose. In any campaign, voters and supporters can reasonably ask for transparency about how funds are handled. When money is diverted or accounts are obscured, the public may see only the visible part of the campaign—the small payment offered to a voter—while far larger sums pass through influential intermediaries.
That may help explain why spending heavily does not always secure victory. A candidate may believe that money has been deployed across the constituency, only to discover that promised support never materialised. Some organisers may exaggerate their influence, report inflated expenses or keep funds for themselves. Others may promise access to groups or communities they cannot actually deliver. Such conduct can damage a campaign and erode trust, whether or not it changes the final result.
The intermediaries around a candidate can come from many walks of life: prominent community figures, wealthy families, local organisers, businesspeople or people with strong social and political connections. Some may also be respected religious figures. Their public standing can make them appear trustworthy, but no title or reputation should exempt anyone from accountability. Religious and community leaders, in particular, have a responsibility to protect the trust placed in them and avoid using it to influence a vote for private benefit.
Nor does the story end on polling day. Once an MLA is elected, relationships built during the campaign may continue. People who helped organise support may expect access, influence or a return for their contribution. In the years that follow, public attention should be paid to how contracts are awarded, how projects are selected, who benefits from government schemes, and whether decisions serve the public interest. Questions about commissions, favouritism, undisclosed interests or the diversion of public resources should be examined through evidence and proper accountability—not rumour or political score-settling.
This is why the money offered to individual voters, troubling as it is, may be only one visible part of a much wider political economy. The voter receives a small, immediate payment; the people who control networks, information and access may stand to gain far more over time. When public contracts, projects, appointments or other opportunities are distributed through personal loyalty rather than fair and transparent rules, those already influential can grow richer while people with fewer connections fall further behind.
The disparity between the well-connected and the less privileged cannot be explained by voter behaviour alone. Voters must take responsibility for the choices they make, but candidates, campaign financiers, organisers and elected representatives must also answer for how money and influence are used. Accountability has to reach every level of the chain.
There are reasons for hope. Young people are increasingly questioning practices once accepted as inevitable. That awakening matters. Before the next election, young voters can check candidates’ records, ask how they will fund public projects and make sure campaign promises are specific and realistic. They can refuse cash or gifts offered in exchange for their votes, report intimidation or vote buying through appropriate channels, and share verified information rather than rumours. They can also ask community and religious leaders to stay impartial and challenge anyone who uses their position to pressure voters or secure private benefits.
Choosing an honest leader means looking beyond promises and popularity. It means seeking people with integrity, competence, sound judgment, respect for the law, a record of service and a willingness to be answerable to the public. It means asking who will benefit from their decisions, how they will manage public resources and whether they will remain accessible after Election Day.
Nagaland’s future depends on more than the choices made in the polling booth. It depends on whether citizens can see and question the networks of money and influence around every candidate. As the next Assembly election approaches, young people in particular have an opportunity to raise their voices with courage, knowledge and truth. The aim should not be to shame the poor while the powerful escape scrutiny. It should be to build a political culture in which votes are freely cast, public money serves the public, and leadership is measured by service.
That is the change our land and our people deserve.