E20, UPI, UGC: Why Are Ordinary Voters Being Ignored?
There is an increasingly uncomfortable question the Modi government needs to confront. What exactly must an ordinary Indian do before the government considers his or her anger worthy of serious political attention? Millions of Indians go to work, pay their taxes, obey the law, vote, participate in elections and increasingly use social media to communicate directly with ministers, ministries and elected representatives. Yet when these citizens object to a policy, the response too often appears to be another clarification explaining why the government was right in the first place.
Look at three recent controversies. Motorists raised concerns about E20 petrol, particularly mileage, compatibility and the treatment of older vehicles. Traders and consumers are now questioning the decision to reintroduce MDR into parts of the UPI merchant-payment ecosystem. Earlier this year, the new UGC equity regulations generated significant opposition and fears of misuse. In each case, large numbers of ordinary Indians made their disagreement visible without shutting highways, occupying government buildings or bringing economic activity to a halt.
Now compare that with what happens when protest becomes organised, sustained and politically expensive. The farm laws were withdrawn following a prolonged farmers’ agitation. A controversial hit-and-run provision affecting drivers was held back after truckers protested. More recently, the CJP agitation at Jantar Mantar continued for weeks, negotiations reached senior Union ministers, Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan resigned amid the protests, and the organisation called off its agitation after receiving government assurances on other demands.
The message this risks sending is dangerous: if ordinary citizens complain peacefully, Delhi can explain the policy to them. If an organised protest movement creates enough political pressure, Delhi negotiates.
E20: Consumers Complained, Government Explained
India has now reached 20 per cent ethanol blending in petrol. The government argues, with supporting technical studies, that E20 strengthens energy security, reduces dependence on imported crude, supports the rural economy and is safe when used according to prescribed standards. It also says it has not received widespread substantiated complaints from automobile manufacturers, associations or consumer organisations showing systemic damage attributable to E20.
But acknowledging that position does not make public concerns imaginary. The government’s own earlier ethanol roadmap recognised a marginal reduction in fuel efficiency for certain vehicles designed for E10, and official material has acknowledged that vehicles running E20 can experience some reduction in efficiency compared with petrol depending on vehicle configuration.
Motorists have therefore asked perfectly legitimate questions about mileage, older vehicles, consumer choice and whether the financial benefits claimed for ethanol ultimately reach the person buying fuel at the pump. Yet much of the government’s response has concentrated on rebutting what it calls misconceptions.
That illustrates the problem. Consultation with automobile manufacturers, research institutes and oil companies is important, but it is not the same thing as listening to the consumer who actually pays for the fuel.
UPI: Another Decision, Another ‘No Rethink’
The UPI controversy makes the disconnect even more visible. From October 15, a new MDR structure will apply to specified person-to-merchant UPI transactions above ₹2,000, with the standard rate set at 0.4 per cent and capped at ₹300, while person-to-person transfers remain free. The government and NPCI argue that the merchant-side charge will help fund the enormous infrastructure required to operate and secure UPI, and the framework contains exemptions and lower charges for several categories.
Those details matter. But so does the political symbolism.
UPI became one of India’s most successful digital public infrastructures partly because the experience was astonishingly simple: scan, pay and move on. Millions of small businesses reorganised themselves around it. The moment MDR begins returning to sections of that system, merchants naturally worry about where the policy eventually leads and whether costs imposed on businesses will indirectly find their way back to customers.
Yet within days of the announcement, government sources were already saying there would be no rethink or rollback.
That is precisely the attitude frustrating ordinary voters. Why announce that there is no rethink while people are still debating the consequences? Why does consultation so often appear finished before the public has entered the conversation?
UGC: Why Did It Need the Supreme Court?
The UGC controversy followed another version of the same pattern. The Promotion of Equity in Higher Education Institutions Regulations, 2026 were notified in January and quickly generated objections, particularly from groups that feared ambiguities in the regulations could lead to discriminatory implementation or misuse.
On January 29, the Supreme Court ordered the regulations to be kept in abeyance, expressing prima facie concern about ambiguities and possible misuse. Months later, on August 20, the Centre informed the Court that the regulations were being reconsidered.
The eventual reconsideration is welcome evidence that government policy is not immovable. But it also raises the obvious question: why did the controversy have to reach the Supreme Court before a serious reconsideration became visible?
Ordinary citizens should not need litigation, street mobilisation or a national political confrontation merely to convince policymakers that their concerns deserve another look.
When Protest Becomes Costly, Delhi Suddenly Listens
This is where the contrast becomes impossible to ignore.
The three farm laws were strongly defended by the Modi government. Yet after more than a year of organised farmer protests, Prime Minister Narendra Modi announced in November 2021 that all three would be withdrawn, and the repeal process followed. In announcing the decision, Modi himself acknowledged that the government had been unable to convince a section of farmers despite its efforts.
Then came the truck drivers. Protests erupted in January 2024 over Section 106(2) of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita and its potential punishment in certain fatal hit-and-run cases. The Home Ministry quickly held discussions with the All India Motor Transport Congress and announced that the provision would be invoked only after consultation with the organisation.
More recently came CJP. Its prolonged agitation placed the examination controversy at the centre of national politics. Government representatives held talks with its leaders, Dharmendra Pradhan resigned amid the protests, and CJP eventually withdrew its 49-day agitation after receiving government assurances on several outstanding demands.
Whether one agrees with every one of those protesters is irrelevant to this argument. What matters is that organised pressure repeatedly demonstrated something ordinary online anger struggles to achieve: leverage.
Delhi Is Teaching Citizens the Wrong Lesson
This creates a terrible democratic incentive.
A salaried employee complains about E20 after returning from work. A shopkeeper worries about MDR after closing his store. A parent objects to regulations through social media. A middle-class taxpayer writes to a ministry or tags a minister online. None of these actions disrupts the country, and therefore none creates an immediate administrative crisis.
But organise enough people, occupy public space, threaten prolonged disruption, generate a national confrontation and suddenly meetings are scheduled, ministers negotiate and compromises become possible.
That is not the lesson any democracy should teach its citizens. Peaceful participation should not be politically less valuable simply because it is convenient for the government to ignore.
Nor should policymakers confuse social-media criticism with meaningless noise. These platforms are now one of the principal ways ordinary citizens communicate political dissatisfaction between elections. A government cannot celebrate digital India when citizens praise it and dismiss digital public opinion when they criticise it.
BJP Should Not Mistake Loyalty for Unlimited Patience
There is another political danger here for the BJP itself. Many of the people complaining about fuel policy, UPI charges, taxation, regulations and bureaucratic decisions are not necessarily ideological opponents of Narendra Modi. Some belong to precisely the salaried, professional, entrepreneurial, middle-class and aspirational constituencies that have supported the BJP through repeated elections.
Support, however, is not a permanent licence to stop listening.
The problem is rarely one decision in isolation. It is accumulation. E20 becomes one irritation. UPI becomes another. A regulatory controversy becomes another. Taxes, fees, compliance requirements and bureaucratic explanations gradually create a perception that ordinary supporters are being taken for granted because they are unlikely to block a highway or maintain a protest camp for fifty days.
A government does not have to accept every demand made on social media, and policymaking cannot become an online popularity contest. But there is an enormous difference between rejecting a demand after genuine public consultation and behaving as though the discussion ended inside a ministry before citizens were invited into it.
The Modi government has repeatedly demonstrated that it is capable of reconsidering decisions when political pressure becomes impossible to ignore. The question ordinary voters are entitled to ask is much simpler: why should they have to become professional protesters before Delhi listens to them?
