In many villages across Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh and Rajasthan, the shift from paper files to digital dashboards has been swift but uneven. Platforms like e-Gram Swaraj and AuditOnline now claim to track every rupee spent by a gram panchayat; PM-WANI promises public Wi-Fi in rural hotspots; and official WhatsApp groups act as conduits of State instruction — faster than letters, but just as top-down. On paper, these tools embody transparency and citizen empowerment. In practice, however, they often entrench existing inequalities. A significant number of sarpanches, especially women and first-time representatives from the scheduled castes
or the scheduled tribes, lack the digital literacy required to navigate these systems independently. Many cannot read English, the default interface language for most platforms. Without training or linguistic support, these tools shift agency away from elected representatives towards intermediaries: panchayat secretaries, junior engineers and digital seva kendra operators. Governance becomes a matter not of local deliberation but of who can upload a file, reply to a message, or generate a geotagged photo.
WhatsApp has quietly become the operating system of rural administration. Districts, blocks and panchayats are threaded together in an invisible hierarchy of group chats. Instructions are sent as voice notes. Photos are demanded as proof of implementation. Attendance is marked through ‘Good Morning’ messages. But this form of communication blurs the line between official orders and bureaucratic surveillance. It demands constant responsiveness from sarpanches and panchayat staff, even outside working hours. In some cases, delays in replying to a WhatsApp message are treated as non-compliance. Worse, because these groups are neither archived nor accountable, they leave no institutional memory. Decisions are made without records. Orders are issued without signatures. This undermines the procedural safeguards that define democratic functioning. What was once a platform for coordination is increasingly a tool of soft coercion, especially for those without the means, devices, or confidence to speak in digital spaces.
Digital tools are often celebrated for minimising human discretion. Yet discretion is not always a bad thing. It allowed local bodies to adapt to context: to prioritise a water tank over a boundary wall, or to delay construction during harvest season. Under e-governance regimes, work must fit into digital templates. Geotagged photos must be uploaded on time. Targets must be met, even if they are misaligned with seasonal rhythms or local needs. Platform logic prizes uniformity over context.
Those most affected by this platformisation are often the most marginalised. Women sarpanches who already face social restrictions are now doubly disadvantaged. They are more likely to defer to male relatives or staffers who ‘operate the phone’. Likewise, sarpanches from Dalit and Adivasi backgrounds may find themselves unable to challenge entrenched local hierarchies, especially when they lack digital fluency. The result is a hollowing out of democratic representation.
Digital governance is here to stay. To ensure that it serves democracy, several urgent interventions are needed. Platforms like e-Gram Swaraj must be made multilingual and mobile-friendly, with built-in support for regional languages and audio guidance. Capacity-building programmes must be ongoing and tailored to elected representatives, especially first-timers and women. The role of digital operators and staffers who act on behalf of elected officials must be defined. Local bodies must be allowed some autonomy within digital frameworks. WhatsApp communication must be legally defined.
Panchayats were envisioned as the foundation of India’s democratic edifice. But a State that speaks only in dashboards and app notifications and listens only through upload timestamps and read receipts, is rewriting the grammar of grassroots democracy. The danger is the quiet centralisation of a system that was meant to devolve power.
Amrit Prakash Pandey is a political researcher. Views are personal
