Workers from two regional parties in India have been fighting on election day for West Bengal’s state assembly. Local media reported the fighting broke out as opposition party leaders accused the state ruling party of voter intimidation.
Published On 23 Apr 202623 Apr 2026
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Tamil Nadu, India – Standing on top of a customised van on a hot and humid afternoon in Tirunelveli, about 600km (373 miles) south of Tamil Nadu’s capital Chennai in southern India, C Joseph Vijay tells his supporters his opponents have joined hands to stop him from becoming the state chief minister.
“My rivals might appear different from outside, but they have only one aim: that Vijay should not become the chief minister,” says the 51-year-old actor-turned-politician to a mammoth crowd that begins to chant his name, which means “victory” in Tamil, in unison.
Tamil Nadu, one of India’s most developed states with impressive human development indices, also has a long history of electing film stars as leaders, some of whom are still revered by people as demigods years after their deaths.
As Tamil Nadu votes on Thursday to elect its 234-member state legislative assembly, Vijay’s bid for power is the latest addition to the state’s trend of film star-politicians, turning a traditionally bipolar battle into a triangular contest.
Vijay entered politics with much fanfare when he launched the Tamilaga Vettri Kazhagam (TVK) party in 2024, promising to end the decades-old dominance of the governing Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK) and the main opposition All India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (AIADMK).
Incumbent Chief Minister MK Stalin leads the DMK and its 14-party Secular Progressive Alliance, in which the Indian National Congress is a junior partner. On the other hand, opposition leader Edappadi K Palaniswami of the AIADMK heads the 10-party National Democratic Alliance, which also includes Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP).
The DMK and the AIADMK identify themselves as Dravidian parties, which derive their names from a powerful political and social justice movement in Tamil Nadu that opposed caste inequalities, championed social reforms, and rejected perceived attempts by India’s more dominant north Indian parties to impose Hindi – and upper-caste Hindu values – on the non-Hindi speaking southern states.
Dravidian parties have held power in Tamil Nadu continuously since 1967, with national parties like the Congress and the BJP playing secondary roles. While the BJP is contesting 27 seats in alliance with the AIADMK, the Congress is fighting for 28 seats as part of the DMK-led coalition.
More than 87 percent of Tamil Nadu’s 72 million people are Hindu, followed by Christians at 6.1 percent and Muslims at 5.8 percent, according to the last census conducted in 2011.
Among Hindus, the so-called “backward” or less-privileged castes constitute 45.5 percent, “extremely backward” castes 23.6 percent, while Dalits are at 20.6 percent. Dalits, formerly referred to as “untouchables”, fall at the bottom of India’s complex caste hierarchy and have faced marginalisation and violence for centuries.
Vijay, son of a Christian filmmaker father and a Hindu mother who is a background singer in films, belongs to the Vellalar community, an affluent agrarian group in Tamil Nadu with both Hindu and Christian members.
Vijay started his film career as a child actor in movies directed by his father. His 1992 debut as a hero, however, in Naalaiya Theerpu (Tomorrow’s Verdict), flopped. Following the setback, his father cast him alongside popular star Vijayakanth — who later founded his own political outfit, Desiya Murpokku Dravida Kazhagam (DMDK) — in Senthoorapandi (1993), which gave his career a new lease of life.
It was the 2004 film Ghilli (Gutsy), which carried a subtle political undertone, that catapulted Vijay to superstar status. He dropped hints about his political ambitions in the 2013 hit Thalaivaa (Leader), which was launched with the tagline “Time to Lead”.
Soon, political messaging became central to many of Vijay’s subsequent films. Even the title of his yet-to-be-released Jana Nayagan (People’s Leader) — which he claims will be his final film — alludes to his political aspirations.
Riding on personal charisma, Vijay has attracted millions of supporters to his rallies, despite allegations of poor crowd management, which caused a stampede at one such gathering in September last year, killing 42 people.
He is expected to draw a share of Dalit and minority Christian votes that would have otherwise flowed to the DMK-led coalition. He is also banking on anti-incumbency votes that could have benefitted the AIADMK alliance.
Yet analysts say Vijay’s ambition of becoming the next chief minister will not be as easy as the scripted blockbusters he has built his career on, since he faces two opponents with decades of experience in real politics.
That leads political commentator R Kannan to describe Vijay as “both a blessing and a curse” for the two Dravidian coalitions.
“When the AIADMK joined the BJP-led NDA, many predicted the Dravidian party would lose heavily, with minorities and Dalits flocking to the DMK. Vijay’s entry, however, has offered the AIADMK a ray of hope — he is expected to draw a decent share of votes that would otherwise have gone to the DMK,” he said.
“At the same time, he works in the DMK’s favour by siphoning off anti-incumbency votes that might not entirely have gone to the AIADMK. For both Dravidian parties, he is at once a blessing and a curse.”
Vijay is aiming to follow the path of illustrious predecessors: Maruthur Gopalan Ramachandran, popularly known as MGR, and his protege, Jayaram Jayalalithaa – Tamil Nadu’s most beloved on-screen pair.
Born into poverty, MGR’s rise to stardom was nothing short of phenomenal. He captured the imagination of Tamil Nadu’s working class, who idolised him in return. From his first superhit, Rajakumari (Princess) in 1947, his films cast him as a champion of the masses, battling oppression and corrupt authority.
MGR launched the AIADMK in 1972 after breaking away from the DMK and served as Tamil Nadu’s chief minister from 1977 to 1987. He introduced several welfare programmes, the most significant being the Puratchi Thalaivar MGR Nutritious Meal Scheme, which provided free meals to schoolchildren to eliminate malnutrition and boost school enrolment.
His political heir, Jayalalithaa, was a six-time chief minister between 1991 and 2016, when she became India’s first female state leader to die in office. She is remembered for launching several women-centric programmes, including all-women police stations and subsidised two-wheelers for working women, apart from her work in curbing female infanticide.
The DMK also has a history of film personalities, including the party’s founder, CN Annadurai, who rose to fame as a pathbreaking scriptwriter with films like Velaikkari (1949), and MGR as the party’s star campaigner and leader before he founded the AIADMK.
Soon, Muthuvel Karunanidhi emerged as another prominent writer, poet and screenwriter with films like Parasakthi (1952), meaning Supreme Power, often cited as a turning point in Tamil cinema. Directed by Krishnan-Panju and written by Karunanidhi, then 28 years old, the film fiercely attacked casteism and social inequality, while propelling the spread of the Dravidian ideology.
Karunanidhi, popularly known as Kalaignar (artist), wrote scripts for more than 75 films that resonated with the struggles of the working class, championing rationalism and social equality.
He won the Tamil Nadu Legislative Assembly election for a record 13 terms and served as the state’s chief minister for five terms between 1969 and 2011. He died at the age of 94 in 2018, when his son, Stalin, took over as chief minister and DMK chief.
Film star-politicians who embraced Tamil identity politics flourished, while those who did not fell by the wayside.
“Successful leaders such as MGR, popularly known as Puratchi Thaalaivar [Revolutionary Leader], Jayalalithaa, who earned the monikers Puratchi Thalaivi [Revolutionary Female Leader] and Amma [Mother], embraced identity politics. Another popular film actor, Sivaji Ganesan, by contrast, could not make the same mark in politics even after he tried,” said Kannan, who has written biographies of MGR and Annadurai.
In 2005, popular actor Vijayakanth added to the starry mix by launching his DMDK party, another Dravidian political outfit. He made every attempt to position his party as an alternative to the DMK and the AIADMK, but failed. The party won just one seat in 2006 — Vijayakanth’s own — and drew a blank in 2009. Though he went on to become the leader of the opposition in the assembly in 2011, the election reverses forced him to seek alliances. The DMDK, now led by his wife Premalatha, is contesting 10 seats in alliance with the DMK.
Which is where, say analysts, Vijay’s pitch for power is unlikely to make an impact in this election. They say his TVK party does not fall in the long line of Dravidian parties that have a distinct political ideology and programme that appeals to their voters.
“Tamil Nadu is an ideologically and politically evolved state. Issues such as social justice, centre-state relations, and linguistic and cultural identity are paramount here. People will not back a politician without a clear ideology,” Ramu Manivannan, former professor of political science at the University of Madras, told Al Jazeera.
Manivannan said large crowds at Vijay’s rallies should not be mistaken for potential votes. “Film stars always attract crowds. To assume all of them will translate into votes is unfair.”
Vijay’s TVK is rooted in his fan clubs, which thrive on masculine aggression, said S Anandhi, retired professor at the Madras Institute of Development Studies.
“Vijay’s populist rhetoric — defying all authority — appeals strongly to the youth. But he never clarifies what he will actually do in power. He frames it as all established forces being arrayed against young men, and youngsters see this as an opportunity for a new kind of collectivisation. I would call it a dangerous class,” she told Al Jazeera.
Vijay appears to be banking heavily on two voter blocs: younger voters between 18 and 39 years, who number 23 million of the state’s 57 million voters, and women, who account for more than half of them.
At his rallies packed with young people and women, Vijay has alleged that Stalin’s true allies are “bribery and corruption”, framing the contest as a personal battle between himself and the chief minister.
Stalin, for his part, has largely brushed off Vijay’s attacks. “Newly-formed parties have a wrong notion that they can survive by criticising DMK,” he said in a recent interview.
Instead, Stalin has focused his attacks on the Modi government, accusing it of depriving Tamil Nadu of its share of federal funds, and framing the election as a contest between Tamil Nadu and New Delhi – a ploy that simultaneously targets the AIADMK for allying with an “adversary”, the BJP.
The AIADMK’s Palaniswami has countered by saying Stalin raises the centre-state issue only because he has “no achievements of his own to show”.
Despite their ideological differences, all parties are competing heavily on welfare promises in a state known for freebies during elections.
The DMK has pledged to double the monthly women’s allowance to 2,000 rupees ($21), offer 8,000 rupees ($85) in home appliance coupons, and build one million homes for the poor over five years. The AIADMK, also promising a monthly allowance of 2,000 rupees for women, has additionally offered free refrigerators to the poor and a one-time family grant of 10,000 rupees ($106).
Vijay’s TVK, hoping to cash in on the ongoing global fuel crisis, has promised six free LPG cylinders annually, 2,500 rupees ($26.5) monthly support for the female heads of a household, 8gm gold and a silk saree for poor women getting married, 4,000 rupees ($42.5) stipend for unemployed college graduates, and interest-free education loans of up to 2 million rupees ($21,257).
Still, Kannan feels Vijay can at best be a disruptor in the three-cornered contest.
“Vijay’s campaign gained momentum in the final lap. He turned what was a bipolar contest into a three-cornered one. But apart from his personal charisma, he lacks proper organisational machinery. Many of his party’s candidates are unknown faces,” he said.
Waving a big Catla fish in his hands, Sharadwat Mukherjee went door to door canvassing for votes before Thursday’s election to the state legislature in the eastern Indian state of West Bengal.
Mukherjee is a candidate from Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), which rules nationally but has never come to power in the state, which has a greater population than Germany: more than 90 million people.
When he folds his hands to greet voters, the Catla just swings with a hook in its mouth. The big question: Can the fish also swing the election’s outcome?
Bengalis’ love for fish is legendary — on both sides of the border, in India and in Bangladesh. So much so that when a student-led uprising led to the ouster of then-Bangladesh Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, some of the protesters who broke into her residence after she fled were seen raiding her refrigerator and walking away with fish.
But as West Bengal votes for its next government, fish has now leapt from kitchen slabs to the campaign trail, as leaders cosy up to voters in a variety of ways — and in some cases try to distance themselves from suspicions that their wins could hit the Bengali diet adversely.
Nearly 68 million people in West Bengal are expected to vote for their candidate of choice on April 23 and 29, to elect 294 lawmakers to the state assembly.
The results will be declared on May 4 in the crucial state vote, which the Hindu majoritarian BJP has never governed.
A revision of the electoral list, which controversially swept away a total of 9.1 million names from the register before polling, and has been criticised for disenfranchising minorities, was among the major polling issues. Some 2.7 million people have challenged their expulsions.
Another is identity politics.
On the campaign trail, in rallies, and in interviews, the chief minister of Bengal, Mamata Banerjee, a firebrand, centrist regional leader — who has been sometimes touted as a contender for Modi’s job in New Delhi, if the opposition were to win — has doubled down on identity politics to corner the BJP, analysts say.
BJP-led governments in several states have imposed bans or restrictions on the sale of meat. Far-right mobs have carried out lynchings of Muslims in BJP-ruled states over accusations that they were transporting beef.
Banerjee, who is seeking a fourth consecutive term, has time and again warned that if the BJP were to come to power, they would “ban fish, meat, and even eggs” — effectively labelling them as outsiders, unaware of Bengali culture. The BJP has rejected these allegations.
Biswanath Chakraborty, a psephologist and political analyst in West Bengal who has authored several books on voting behaviour, told Al Jazeera that the whole issue surrounding fish had been “constructed by Mamata Banerjee.”
“For long, she has peddled that fish is parallel to Bengali politics,” he said. “In election campaigning, every issue is constructed, and Mamata is the champion of that.”
Chakraborty argued that by fiercely pushing back against these allegations, the BJP had ended up helping the governing party in Bengal make sure the debate over fish remained a campaign highlight with voters.
“They [the BJP] are entering, or rather trapped, into the discourse set by Mamata,” the analyst said.
“Fish is very crucial in Bengal, very crucial,” said Utsa Ray, an assistant professor at Jadavpur University, in West Bengal’s capital Kolkata. She also authored a 2015 book on Bengal’s culinary evolution in colonial India, titled Culinary Culture in Colonial India: A Cosmopolitan Platter and the Middle-Class.
“First of all, due to Bengal’s geographical location itself – along the Bay of Bengal – [and as] a place situated near rivers and streams, fish have been the most available item,” she told Al Jazeera.
Fish has also been an integral part of many rituals in Bengal on auspicious days for both Hindus and Muslims, Ray said, adding, however, that there were sects of people in Bengal who refrain from eating fish.
A 2024 study found that nearly 65 percent of people in West Bengal consume fish weekly.
Against that backdrop, Ray told Al Jazeera that Banerjee’s party was looking to leverage “regional identity or the Bengali identity”.
Banojyotsna Lahiri, a social activist and voter in West Bengal, described the BJP’s response, with candidates like Mukherjee campaigning with fish, as a “gimmick”.
“In Bengal, [the BJP] have suddenly realised that they appear as aliens with their vegetarian posturing because both fish and meat are integral to the Bengal culinary choices, caste or religion notwithstanding,” she told Al Jazeera. ”
In the run-up to the voting on Thursday, the BJP rushed to find a senior leader who could eat a fish in front of the cameras. They finally managed to get Anurag Thakur, a member of parliament from Himachal Pradesh, to do that on Tuesday.
“Questions of what food people will eat, especially non-vegetarian [food], have been associated with the BJP’s politics to impose restrictions and dictate food options,” said Neelanjan Sircar, a senior visiting fellow at the think tank Centre for Policy Research, in Delhi.
The BJP has been dictating food choices in northern India’s Hindi-speaking belt, with its “hyper masculine, Hindutva, and vegetarianism,” said Ray. “There have been cases of lynching for eating non-vegetarian food.”
However, that falls flat in Benga.
Still, both Sircar and Ray agreed that the display of fish on the campaign trail was a novelty — even in the often-bizarre world of Indian politics.
“Creating these new images for the BJP is important,” said Sircar. “So, to create another image in voters’ minds leads to these outlandish displays.”
The IPL’s influence has also led to the rise of multiple state-run T20 leagues across India, further widening the talent pool.
“Right now, there are 18 state leagues going on, with a minimum of six teams per league. Six teams, 15 players, just imagine the pool,” George says.
“In most of the state associations, sadly, the selections are not that transparent. So you see players who have not been in the state team coming up and doing very well for their respective franchises. That is why the state franchise tournaments are very important and help us identify talent.”
As a result, more players are now emerging from non-traditional centres.
“Talent in India is concentrated in places like UP, Rajasthan and Delhi,” said George. “That’s why franchises focus a lot on these leagues. UP, in particular, has a very strong league, and many players who have done well there, like Prashant Veer and Kartik Sharma.
“Kashmir is another region we focus on because a lot of good fast bowlers and hard-hitters are coming from there.”
The data also reflects how the talent pool has spread across India. In the inaugural IPL in 2008, most players came from traditional centres such as Maharashtra (21), Delhi (14), Tamil Nadu (11) and Karnataka (10).
By 2026, the landscape has broadened significantly. Uttar Pradesh now matches Maharashtra with 21 players, while Rajasthan (13) and Madhya Pradesh (10) have also emerged as key contributors.
Talent from far-off regions is coming through as well. Jammu and Kashmir, which has just seen its first-class team win the Ranji Trophy for the first time in its history, has gone from zero representation in 2008 to six players in 2026, while Bihar has grown from two to six.
This expanding base of talent is reflected in India’s recent success in T20 cricket, including back-to-back World Cup titles.
“India’s talent pool is so big that you could field two strong teams, India A and India B, and both would reach the latter stages of a world tournament,” George says.
“In the last decade, almost all new Indian players have come through the IPL ecosystem. IPL is like a blessing for Indian cricket.”
Morbi, India – For seven years, Pradeep Kumar would walk into the ceramics factory in western India at 9am, load raw materials – clay, quartz and sand – into the kiln, and spend the day around the heat and dust of the furnaces.
He handled the clay at different stages, sometimes feeding it into machines, sometimes moving semi-processed pieces towards firing. The work was repetitive and demanding, with no protective gear, such as gloves and masks, against the high temperatures.
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“It would be very challenging in the summers since the heat would be at its peak,” he told Al Jazeera.
But on March 15, he lost his job – not because of anything he or the company behind his factory had done, but because the United States and Israel attacked Iran, triggering another war in the Middle East and a global fuel crisis.
Barely two weeks after the war began, the ceramics company where he worked shut down due to a shortage of propane and natural gas. The company, in Morbi in Gujarat state – like all of its peers in the ceramics industry – depends on these critical ingredients.
Morbi is the centre of India’s ceramics industry that employs more than 400,000 people. More than half of these workers, like Kumar, are migrants from poorer Indian states like Uttar Pradesh and Bihar.
Five days after Kumar lost his job, the 29-year-old took his wife and their three children back to their home in Uttar Pradesh’s Hardoi district.
“I am here until every other migrant worker who came back home with us goes back,” he told Al Jazeera.
“We don’t want to suffer like dogs, like we did during the COVID-19 pandemic,” he added, referring to the 2020 and 2021 exodus of migrant workers from India’s more industrialised western states to the poorer east, with millions of starving families, including children, walking on foot for days and sometimes weeks to reach their homes amid a coronavirus lockdown.
With more than 600 companies, Morbi produces about 80 percent of India’s ceramics in the form of tiles, toilets, bathtubs and wash basins. But at least 450 of those companies have been forced to shut down as a standoff on the Strait of Hormuz, a lifeline for India’s gas imports, continues.
Meanwhile, the war continues, with the US on Sunday capturing an Iranian cargo vessel, even as Washington says it is willing to hold another round of talks with Tehran in Pakistan to reach a deal. Tehran has refused to commit to peace talks after its ship was seized.
The developments came as a fragile ceasefire agreed by Iran and the US after a month of fighting expires on Wednesday. But a re-escalation in hostilities has seen Iran shutting down Hormuz for traffic, disrupting global fuel supplies and raising oil prices.
“All manufacturing units in Morbi rely on propane and natural gas to fire kilns at high temperatures. While propane is supplied by private companies, natural gas is provided by the state to those with connections. Around 60 percent of manufacturers use propane because it is comparatively cheaper,” Siddharth Bopaliya, a 27-year-old third-generation manufacturer and trader in Morbi, told Al Jazeera.
Manoj Arvadiya, president of the Morbi Ceramic Manufacturers Association, said they had shut down the units till April 15, hoping that the Middle East crisis would be resolved by then.
“But even today, only around 100 units have opened, and most have still not begun the manufacturing process. For at least another 15 days, it is likely to remain the same,” he told Al Jazeera.
Arvadiya said the closure has impacted 200,000 workers, with more than a quarter of them forced to go back to their homes in other states.
India’s ceramic industry is valued at $6bn.
“About 25 percent of Morbi’s ceramics are exported to countries in the Middle East, Africa and Europe, with a net worth of $1.5bn. But exports are now delayed and, in some cases, completely halted, especially to Middle Eastern countries, due to the production slowdown over the past month,” Arvadiya told Al Jazeera.
Factories that rely on propane remain shut in Morbi. Though natural gas is mostly available, many units have not made the switch yet, as new connections are being priced at 93 rupees a kilo, while existing users receive it at about 70 rupees.
Khushiram Sapariya, a manufacturer of washbasins who relies on propane, said he will wait this month before deciding on reopening his factory.
“Because then I have to call hundreds of staff who have gone to their homes, and I want to be sure before taking their responsibility,” he said.
Among the workers who left Morbi last month is 27-year-old Ankur Singh.
“The shutdown of my company did not send me back alone, but with a Morbi disease – silicosis. I would often have fever and cough but kept ignoring it, until I came back to my hometown near Patna in Bihar and found after a check-up that it was silicosis,” he told Al Jazeera.
Silicosis is an incurable lung disease caused by inhalation of silica dust found in rock, sand, quartz and other building materials. One of the oldest occupational diseases in the world, it kills thousands of people every year.
Gujarat-based labour rights activist Chirag Chavda says the disease is “widespread in Morbi because workers are routinely exposed to fine silica dust generated during ceramic production”.
“Even those not directly involved in moulding or kiln work often inhale the particles due to poor ventilation and prolonged exposure across factory spaces,” he told Al Jazeera.
Chavda said most ceramic companies do not follow the government regulations regarding the safety of workers.
Harish Zala, 40, had worked in different ceramic companies in Morbi for two decades before he got silicosis two years ago. He said he received no help from his employer, who allegedly abused and threatened his father when he visited the company after the diagnosis.
“Every year, at least one labourer dies of silicosis in each company, while several get detected for silicosis,” Zala told Al Jazeera. “Some like me get lucky and survive, but have no choice but to quit the job immediately.”
Zala said many companies do not provide the workers with written proof of employment, such as appointment letters, salary slips, or identity cards. “This is done so that if a worker later demands labour rights or legal entitlements, they have no concrete evidence to prove that they were employed by the company.”
Chirag added that such workers are also denied social security under various Indian laws regarding salaries or pension funds, since doing so would establish proof of employment.
“As a result, even after working for years, workers are deprived of their labour rights due to a lack of evidence. This leaves employers with little to no legal accountability,” he said.
In Morbi, there are also migrants like Sushma Devi, 56, who did not go back to her home in West Bengal because the tile company her son works at has promised to continue giving them shelter and food as it waits for manufacturing to resume.
“I am here with a few more people because we did not want to spend money on travelling. Here, at least our ration is sorted,” she said as she walked with a bundle of dry twigs, wood and discarded plywood for the cooking.
“We step out to collect these every day to be able to cook our two-time meal,” said Devi. “I hope the kilns and manufacturing resume soon, but I also hope they don’t stop giving us rice and potatoes even if the kilns don’t start running anytime soon.”
Devi’s husband, Debendar, and their son Ankit live in a one-room set given to them by their company. The family has access to a common toilet for 10 families on one floor.
Kumar, meanwhile, is running out of his meagre savings and fears he could fall into a debt trap.
“Initially, we ate from whatever we had saved. But the house needed repair and we had to borrow 20,000 rupees ($214) from a relative, which we have no idea when or how we will repay,” he said, looking at the reworked roof of his brick house in Hardoi.
The recently concluded 14th Ministerial Conference of the WTO produced mixed results. While the multilateral system remains stuck on Appellate Body appointments, one of the most extensive pre-conference discussions focused on the Chinese-led Investment Facilitation for Development Agreement (IFDA). With 129 member states backing the IFDA, including countries like Bangladesh and several least developed countries (LDCs) from Africa, this has put India’s position as a key representative of the third world into question.
However, a thorough examination of India’s position reveals deeper concerns about the WTO within the ever-changing framework of global economic governance. In this article, I argue that India’s opposition to the IFDA is based not merely on apprehensions about China’s strategic influence, but also on other considerations founded on the grounds of jurisdiction, sovereign right to regulate and the procedure.
The Jurisdictional Argument & Potential Fragmentation of the International Trade Regime:
India’s primary objection to the IFDA emerges from a very pivotal question in the field of international law, challenging the jurisdiction and mandate of the WTO. In a rules-based transnational system, international organizations operate on a mandate-based framework. This mandate is primarily derived from the substantive provisions of their founding agreements and the consent of member states. Historically, the WTO’s mandate has centred on trade, specifically the regulation of trade in goods and services, as well as certain trade-related aspects of intellectual property and investment. While instruments such as the Agreement on Trade-Related Investment Measures (TRIMs) and the General Agreement on Trade in Services (GATS) incidentally touch upon investment, they do so only insofar as it is in relation with trade.
Given that the WTO’s mandate and primary focus are on trade, India maintains that the regulation of investment as an autonomous domain fall outside its negotiated competence. This position is grounded in the collapse of the “Singapore Issues,” which included investments as one of its four development agenda and were explicitly dropped from the Doha Developmental Agenda in 2004. The reintroduction of investment facilitation through the IFDA is thus viewed as lacking a legitimate mandate, raising serious concerns about the WTO’s overreach.
Another factor closely linked to the lack of mandate is the plurilateral character of the proposed agreement. Unlike multilateral agreements, which bind all WTO members on the basis of consensus, plurilateral agreements apply only to a subset of willing participants. While such arrangements are not unprecedented within the WTO framework, India views the IFDA as a symbolic representation of a broader trend towards fragmentation. The primary concern of New Delhi is the risk that plurilateralism brings to the system. India’s apprehension stems from creation of a two-tier system within the WTO, wherein economically powerful states effectively set the rules, leaving others in a position of reactive compliance. This seriously undermines the foundational principle of sovereign equality among the WTO members and erodes the consensus-based decision-making model that has historically been a salient feature of the WTO.
Right to Regulate
A further dimension of India’s opposition to the IDFA pertains to the preservation of regulatory autonomy. The IFDA, although framed as a facilitative instrument, introduces disciplines that may constrain domestic policymaking. The current bilateral system on which international investment law is based relies heavily on bilateral investment treaties (BITs) and dedicated chapters on investment in comprehensive economic partnership agreements (CEPA). This empowers developing countries such as India to specifically negotiate foreign investment policy in accordance with domestic requirements and national priorities.
However, under the IFDA’s plurilateral approach, India’s apprehension is grounded in obligations relating to non-discrimination, administrative review, and procedural standardisation, which over time may limit the flexibility required to implement industrial policy, promote local value addition, or regulate sensitive sectors in the public interest.
Further, India is also careful of the potential consequences that may arise from incorporating investment-related disciplines within the WTO framework. Although the IFDA does not formally include investor–state dispute settlement (ISDS) mechanisms, its provisions could nonetheless be invoked indirectly in arbitral proceedings under bilateral investment treaties (BITs).
Given India’s prior experience with investment treaty arbitration and the subsequent revisiting of its Model BIT in 2016 to ensure regulatory balance, this concern carries considerable weight. While at face value these provisions might seem benign and aimed at facilitation of flow of investments, their pro-investor interpretations might create problems by exposing India to international liability.
Another vital dimension of India’s critique pertains to the procedural legitimacy of the IFDA negotiations. It is quite commonly observed that the legitimacy of outcomes is intricately linked to the legitimacy of the processes that produce them. These negotiations were initiated through a Joint Statement Initiative (JSI) which remains controversial within the WTO system. India’s argument relies on the absence of an explicit mandate which contradicts the WTO’s decision-making framework, which is based on consensus.
Beyond these factors, India’s position can also be understood as a negotiation strategy. By resisting the incorporation of new issues such as investment facilitation into the WTO package, India seeks to preserve negotiating leverage in ongoing and future discussions. Accepting the IFDA could open a pandora’s box for the introduction of other areas, including digital trade and e-commerce, thereby shifting the balance of negotiations away from priorities of developing countries, such as agricultural subsidies.
It is important to note that India does not oppose investment facilitation in principle; rather, its criticism is related to the form, venue, and legal consequences of introducing non-trade disciplines at the WTO. India has, in fact, undertaken substantial domestic reforms aimed at improving the ease of doing business and attracting foreign investment. Its objection is more precisely directed at the form, forum, and legal implications of embedding such non-trade disciplines within the framework of WTO.
In summary, the refusal of India to sign the IFDA is a reflection of careful consideration of complex legal factors combined with prudence regarding institutional development and developmental policy. It underscores a broader tension within the contemporary multilateral trading system aiming to balance the ever-expansive rule-making to protect & promote investments, with preservation of regulatory policy space for host states.
Kathdhara village is a riot of colour as the early evening light turns the clouds the rosy hue of Himalayan salt. Bright red chillies lie drying in front of cornflower blue doorways. The pink of a sari and the orange of marigolds pop against a backdrop of verdant terraced fields, where cabbages grow in perfect rows like a picture from a Peter Rabbit book.
Just 22 families live in this remote hamlet in Binsar Wildlife Sanctuary, in the Kumaon region of Uttarakhand, north-east India. As we stroll with our guide, Deepak, taking in views of the layered hills and soaring, snow-capped Panchachuli peaks beyond, we are welcomed by villagers tending homes and gardens, strings of Diwali fairy lights adding extra sparkle to the scene.
I’m here to explore the foothills of the Himalayas and sample village life on a walking holiday with Village Ways, a pioneer of responsible, community-based tourism in India, which is celebrating its 21st anniversary this year. Dreamed up by Manisha and Himanshu Pande, the couple who run the Khali Estate, a small hotel in the reserve, the goal is to help address urban migration and support traditional rural life through low-impact tourism. Village Ways launched in 2005 with just five villages in the reserve, which guests hike between, and now more than 30 villages are involved in different parts of the country, from Madhya Pradesh to Kerala.
“The idea was to bring the community together to run something collectively, training people in all aspects of business. Everyone has a role to play,” says Manisha. “The Village Ways model has captured the attention of the government, too, and we’re collaborating on various projects in other states now, which is exciting.”
Most accommodation is in small, village-built guesthouses sleeping up to eight, rather than homestays, and money is evenly distributed to everyone from cleaners to porters, with committees making joint decisions. Back at the Kathdhara guesthouse, we join Diwali celebrations, sharing sweets, lighting lamps and praying to the goddess Lakshmi by a makeshift shrine. We feast on a delicious thali – spicy yams, dal, hemp chutney and warm roti – and sleep soundly, cocooned by the silence of the mountains.
The next day brings blue skies, and after breakfast we set out on a gentle walk to the neighbouring Gonap village. Binsar Wildlife Sanctuary was created in 1988, a 47 sq km (18 sq mile) area to help protect the broadleaf oak forest and wildlife. For the people living here, it altered their relationship with the forest, ending tree felling and hunting – tempting many to abandon village life for the cities. Village Ways offered an alternative – former hunters turned guides, sharing knowledge of the land and wildlife with guests, and seeing outsiders’ interest in local customs and traditions renewed their sense of pride.
We hike through pristine pine, oak and rhododendron forests (come in March or April to see the land painted red, pink and white when they bloom). I’m fascinated by the Himalayan oaks, which play a key role in storing and releasing water and stabilising the land with their vast root networks. We see the bright red flowers of wild turmeric and countless medicinal plants, from goat weed (some believe the juice stops bleeding) to Indian tobacco (used for toothache).
Leopards roam here too and, though they remain elusive, we spy footprints and scat, as well as porcupine quills. But the sanctuary is best known for its amazing birdlife – more than 200 species are found here – and we stop frequently as Deepak points out the crested serpent eagle, leaf warbler, black-headed jay and noisy parakeets.
Gonap itself is tiny – home to just seven families today. We’re welcomed to the guesthouse with chai and plates of warm pakora – enjoyed with staggering mountain views as Eurasian griffon vultures float on the thermals. Deepak leads us to a tiny temple, past houses with gardens heaving with jumbo lemons and air potatoes on giant stalks, the sounds of cicadas in the air.
No roads connect the five villages in the Binsar circuit, but the paths between them offer easy walking and there’s plenty of time to rest. A higher-altitude route in the nearby Saryu and Pindar valleys, close to the border with Tibet, offers more challenging hikes. But limited time means we head back to the Khali Estate from Gonap, stopping at Zero Point lookout – the highest vantage spot in the reserve, at 2,500 metres – to gawp at the 360-degree Himalayan panorama, dominated by Nanda Devi, the second highest mountain in India.
Built 150 years ago by a British commissioner, Gen Sir Henry Ramsay, the Khali Estate makes a picturesque base, with accommodation in stone rondavel cabins and a sitting room with roaring fire. During his time in Kumaon, Ramsay is credited with developing local infrastructure, founding a leper colony in the historical capital of the region, Almora, and regulating tree felling. We delve into the estate’s history on a tour with Himanshu, poring over photos and library texts, and learn how it was also a retreat for the Nehru family and an ashram for Mahatma Gandhi. Surrounded by forest, it’s utterly peaceful. Later, I fall asleep to the distant sound of barking deer.
For visitors wanting to learn more about the region’s history and the characters who shaped it, Village Ways has launched a new itinerary, Khali in Kumaon. As well as the Binsar walks, it takes in the lakeside hill station of Nainital, where we had stopped on the 270-mile journey from Delhi. Guests will also explore Almora, with its local primary school supported by Village Ways, the museum of the Anglo-Indian hunter turned conservationist Jim Corbett, and the Gandhi trail, heading into the hills to see some of the first looms he established for homespun cotton – a symbol of economic independence and resistance to British rule – at Anasakti ashram.
But our last day is very much focused on the present, as a stream of villagers arrive at Khali from far and wide to join the anniversary celebrations. Other Village Ways founders – Brits who worked in development and tourism – are here too, and there are talks, feasting and dancing. I learn about the Village Ways charitable trust, which supports healthcare in these remote villages, training local women to run mobile clinics. Since Village Ways’ inception, it has hosted 7,000 guests, benefiting about 5,000 people, from artists to taxi drivers, according to Manisha, and 470 villagers are directly involved in decision-making as members of the village tourism committees in six states.
I buy locally made scarves and handicrafts, and many of the young villagers – now guides, cooks or porters – tell me about the positive impact tourism has had on their lives. “Since I joined as a guide three years ago I’ve learned lots about Binsar and our birds – and my English has really improved,” said 23-year-old Ashirwad Joshi from Dalar village. “I’m very happy to be part of it and share my knowledge with visitors – it makes me proud.”
When we leave the next morning for the long drive to Kathgodam and onward train journey to Delhi, it’s the feeling of mutual respect and warmth that stays with me. The challenges are many, from ageing village populations to a decline in international visitor numbers to the area since Covid, but the Village Ways mission is very much full steam ahead – taking its ethos to other parts of the country. This type of tourism – one that involves communities as partners and is collaborative rather than exploitative – benefits locals and travellers alike. In these times of division, it is to be celebrated more than ever.
The trip was provided by Village Ways, which creates bespoke itineraries, tailored to travellers’ interests. The suggested 10-day Khali in Kumaon itinerary (available until 30 May, and from 15 September to 30 November 2026) costs from £1,315pp, based on a party of four, including transfers, rail travel, accommodation and most meals