Raju Korti
President Donald Trump’s latest
reference to India’s electoral system is noteworthy not merely because an
American President has held up the world’s largest democracy as an example, but
because of what he is trying to achieve with that comparison. In invoking Chief
Election Commissioner Gyanesh Kumar and asking, rhetorically, how the United
States can conduct elections without universally mandatory photo
identification, Trump has once again placed the Safeguard American Voter
Eligibility Act, or SAVE America Act, at the centre of his electoral agenda.
His message is straightforward: if India, with its enormous electorate and
extraordinary logistical complexity, can insist upon voter identification, why
cannot the United States?
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Trump is therefore not really
proposing to import the Indian electoral system into America. He is selecting
one particularly visible feature of it, mandatory identity verification at the
polling station, and using it as an argument for a much broader restructuring
of American federal election law. That distinction is important because the
Indian and American systems operate within radically different constitutional
and administrative frameworks. India has a single constitutional Election
Commission entrusted with the superintendence, direction and control of
elections to Parliament and state legislatures. The United States, by contrast,
has no exact institutional equivalent. American elections are administered
through a highly decentralised structure in which states and local
jurisdictions play the principal operational role.
India’s electoral system begins
from a relatively straightforward proposition: the person standing before the
polling official must be identifiable as the person whose name appears on the
electoral roll. The polling official checks the elector’s name against the roll
and verifies the prescribed identification before the voting process proceeds.
The voter’s finger is marked with indelible ink and the vote is recorded
through the prescribed voting mechanism. The safeguards are designed to
establish a chain of identity and eligibility rather than relying upon a single
document as the sole determinant of the right to vote.
That distinction becomes
particularly significant when the Indian system is compared with the SAVE
America Act. India does not insist that the EPIC card be the only acceptable
identity document. A range of alternative government-issued photo documents can
be used where prescribed by the Election Commission. This flexibility is
important because it makes the Indian model less dependent upon possession of
one particular identity document. The underlying principle is that the elector
must be identifiable, but the system provides several routes through which that
identity can be established.
India’s electoral machinery also
places enormous emphasis upon the integrity of the electoral roll itself. This
is where the Special Intensive Revision, or SIR, becomes relevant to the
American debate. SIR is not a voter-ID law. It is fundamentally an exercise in
electoral-roll revision and verification, intended to establish that the people
appearing on the electoral roll are eligible electors while providing a
mechanism for claims, objections and corrections. Booth Level Officers
undertake enumeration and verification, after which draft rolls are published
and citizens are given opportunities to raise objections or seek inclusion and
correction. The larger principle is that electoral integrity begins before a
voter reaches the polling station.
That principle has an obvious
resonance in the American debate, although the institutional mechanisms are
very different. The United States has been grappling increasingly with
questions concerning the accuracy of voter rolls, including concerns over deceased
voters, duplicate registrations, people who have moved and, most
controversially, the registration of non-citizens. The SAVE Act attempts to
address one component of this problem by requiring documentary proof of United
States citizenship when registering to vote in federal elections. In conceptual
terms, therefore, there is a point of contact between SIR and the SAVE Act.
Both are concerned with establishing the integrity of the electoral roll. But
they are not equivalent exercises. SIR is principally an administrative
verification and revision process, whereas the SAVE Act seeks to establish a
statutory federal requirement for documentary citizenship verification.
The distinction becomes even more
important because America's constitutional structure makes electoral regulation
considerably more complicated than it appears from Trump's comparison. The
United States Constitution gives states substantial responsibility for
conducting elections, while Congress possesses authority under the Elections
Clause to regulate the times, places and manner of congressional elections. The
resulting division of responsibility has produced a highly decentralised
electoral system in which procedures can differ substantially from one state to
another. What can be implemented through a single national electoral authority
in India can therefore become a constitutional and political contest in the
United States.
This is the context in which
Trump’s invocation of India becomes politically significant. His argument is
that the American electoral system has permitted too much variation in voter
identification, registration and voting procedures among the states and that a
national minimum standard is necessary to restore confidence in elections. The
argument resonates strongly with a substantial section of the American
electorate, particularly Republicans, who have long maintained that voter
identification should be a basic requirement rather than a matter left entirely
to individual states.
The SAVE America Act seeks to
address two separate but connected questions. The first concerns citizenship.
The legislation would require documentary proof of United States citizenship
when registering to vote in federal elections. The second concerns identity. It
would require photo identification when voting in a federal election and would
also impose identification requirements on absentee voting. The proposed
documentary requirements go considerably beyond simply producing a driver's
licence. Depending upon the circumstances, acceptable documentation could
include a United States passport, specified government or military
documentation, a qualifying identification indicating citizenship, or a
government-issued photo identification accompanied by other documents such as a
certified birth certificate.
That makes the SAVE Act
considerably more complicated than an American version of the Indian EPIC
system. The Indian system is primarily concerned at the polling station with
establishing that the individual seeking to vote corresponds with the elector named
on the electoral roll. The SAVE Act reaches further upstream by requiring
documentary evidence of citizenship at the registration stage and then
requiring photo identification at the voting stage. It is consequently both a
citizenship-verification regime and a voter-identification regime.
Trump’s reference to India gives
the SAVE Act a political narrative that it otherwise might not possess. Instead
of presenting voter identification merely as a Republican demand, he can now
portray it as a question of international democratic practice. His implied
argument is that if India can administer elections involving hundreds of
millions of voters while requiring identification, the United States, with a
considerably smaller electorate, should certainly be capable of doing the same.
The comparison has rhetorical force, particularly because India’s 2024 general
election involved an electorate approaching one billion and more than 600
million votes were cast.
Yet the comparison becomes less
convincing if taken literally. India and the United States have different
constitutional structures, different electoral histories, different
administrative traditions and very different political cultures. Most
importantly, the American debate over voter identification cannot be separated
from the country’s history of racial discrimination and the historical use of
literacy tests, poll taxes and other devices that were employed to restrict
voting rights. Consequently, the American argument is not simply about whether
identification is sensible. It is also about who bears the burden of proving
eligibility and whether that burden could disproportionately affect citizens
who are otherwise legally entitled to vote.
The issue of citizenship makes
the distinction still sharper. Voter identification and proof of citizenship
address different risks. Photo identification is principally intended to
establish that the individual appearing to vote is the person represented on
the electoral roll. Proof of citizenship, on the other hand, establishes
whether that individual possesses the legal qualification to register for a
federal election in the first place. A citizen may lack an acceptable photo ID,
while a non-citizen may possess a perfectly valid photo ID. The two
requirements therefore address different parts of the electoral chain.
India has effectively separated
these questions through its electoral registration system and polling
procedures. Citizenship and eligibility are dealt with through the electoral
roll, while identity is verified at the polling station. The SAVE Act attempts
to make documentary citizenship verification a much more explicit and
consequential part of federal voter registration. That makes the American
proposal more administratively demanding and explains why the documentation
question has become such a contentious part of the debate.
Critics of the legislation argue
that documentation requirements could create practical barriers for otherwise
eligible voters. Birth certificates are not universally available in convenient
form. Names can change, particularly after marriage. A naturalised citizen may
possess citizenship documentation that differs from that held by someone born
in the United States. People who have moved between states, military families
and Americans born abroad may encounter their own documentary complications.
Supporters, however, argue that such administrative difficulties can be
addressed through alternative verification mechanisms and that citizenship,
being an explicit constitutional qualification for federal voting, should not
be treated as something that cannot be documented.
India again provides an
interesting contrast. Its electoral system does not make one document an
absolute barrier to voting. A voter whose name is on the electoral roll can
generally establish identity through one of several prescribed documents. That
flexibility is significant. It suggests that the objective of electoral
integrity does not necessarily require a system in which the absence of one
particular document automatically prevents an otherwise eligible citizen from
exercising the franchise.
The Indian experience therefore
offers Trump both an argument and a caution. It provides an argument that a
gigantic democracy can operate a system in which identification at the polling
station is routine. But it also demonstrates that identification is only one
component of electoral integrity and that the system must contain sufficient
flexibility to accommodate genuine voters who do not possess a particular form
of documentation. The Indian model is consequently more nuanced than the
political shorthand of “everyone needs photo ID” might suggest.
This is also where the American
discussion of SIR becomes particularly interesting. India's SIR is not simply a
mechanism for removing questionable names from electoral rolls. Its legitimacy
depends equally upon ensuring that eligible voters are not wrongly excluded.
That is why enumeration, publication of draft rolls, claims, objections,
hearings and opportunities for correction are important. An electoral roll is
not made more credible merely by reducing its size. It becomes credible when
the people who are legally entitled to vote are accurately represented on it.
The same principle will
ultimately confront the American system if citizenship verification becomes
more widespread. Removing an ineligible name may appear to strengthen electoral
integrity, but wrongly removing an eligible citizen undermines it. The central
challenge is therefore not merely verification. It is verification with due
process.
The question of whether other
American states can pass their own citizenship and identification laws in 2026
must consequently be answered with some qualification. Several Republican-led
states have already moved in this direction, although the precise nature of
their laws differs considerably. Florida, Kansas, Kentucky, Mississippi, South
Dakota, Tennessee, Utah and West Virginia have enacted citizenship-related
voting legislation during 2026, according to the National Conference of State
Legislatures. Some laws establish documentary proof of citizenship
requirements, others rely on database verification or create procedures for
voters whose citizenship cannot immediately be confirmed, while some
contemplate separate treatment for federal and state ballots.
This demonstrates that the
political movement toward tighter citizenship verification does not depend
entirely upon the SAVE Act becoming federal law. States possess substantial
authority over the administration of elections within their jurisdictions and
can enact their own requirements, subject to constitutional restrictions and
federal statutes. Republican-controlled legislatures are therefore likely to
continue experimenting with different approaches during the current election
cycle.
The major qualification is that
passing a law and successfully implementing it before an election are two
different matters. Election legislation requires administrative preparation.
Registration systems may have to be modified, databases integrated, election
officials trained, voters informed and procedures established for individuals
whose documentation cannot immediately be verified. If legislation is enacted
close to an election, courts may also have to determine whether it can be
implemented without causing confusion or disenfranchisement.
Litigation is therefore likely to
accompany legislative action. A state can pass a citizenship verification law,
but opponents can challenge it on constitutional, statutory or administrative
grounds. Courts can suspend its operation, modify its application or permit
only parts of it to take effect. The result can be an extraordinarily
complicated legal environment in which different states operate under different
rules during the same national election.
That fragmentation is perhaps the
greatest difference between India and America. India has a constitutional
Election Commission with nationwide jurisdiction over the electoral process.
The United States has fifty state-level election systems, supplemented by
thousands of local jurisdictions. There is no American equivalent of a single
Election Commission that can issue a uniform national instruction applicable
across the country. That institutional difference explains why Trump's
comparison with India is politically attractive but administratively
incomplete.
It also creates a formidable
challenge for the Trump administration. Even if the President succeeds in
persuading Congress to enact the SAVE America Act, the federal government would
still have to negotiate the complex relationship between federal standards and
state election administration. The legislation would have to withstand
constitutional challenges and survive disputes over its interaction with
existing federal election laws. Its practical implementation could be almost as
difficult as securing its passage.
The Senate remains the immediate
legislative obstacle. Even where Republicans hold a majority, the chamber's
procedural requirement for 60 votes to overcome a filibuster means that a bill
of this political sensitivity cannot necessarily be enacted simply because the
President's party controls the Senate. Trump can exert enormous political
pressure on Republican senators, but presidential influence cannot eliminate
Senate procedure. The House and Senate therefore remain distinct political
battlegrounds.
The possibility of using
executive authority as an alternative is equally problematic. The President can
direct executive agencies within the limits of existing law, but an executive
order cannot simply rewrite the constitutional allocation of election powers
between the federal government and the states. Attempts by the administration
to impose nationwide voting requirements through executive action are likely to
face immediate judicial challenges. The courts will ultimately determine
whether the executive branch has the statutory authority to take such steps
without congressional legislation.
There is also a broader political
paradox in Trump's reference to India. India has frequently been criticised in
American political discourse by sections of the American establishment over
aspects of its democratic institutions. Yet the Indian electoral system is now
being held up by the American President as a practical example of electoral
identification. The irony is unmistakable. The world's largest democracy is
being invoked as a lesson for the world's oldest continuously operating modern
constitutional democracy.
The more meaningful lesson,
however, lies not in the voter card but in the architecture surrounding it.
India's electoral integrity rests upon an interconnected chain involving
electoral registration, revision of rolls, voter identification, polling-station
safeguards, election personnel, political-party agents, counting procedures and
mechanisms for resolving disputes. Identification is one link in that chain,
not the chain itself.
America's emerging approach is
developing along a different route. Instead of creating a central electoral
authority comparable to India's Election Commission, it is relying upon federal
legislation, state-level experimentation, database verification, documentary
evidence and judicial review. The objective may be similar, but the machinery
is fundamentally different.
This makes the comparison with
SIR particularly instructive. SIR and the SAVE Act should not be treated as
equivalents. SIR is an administrative exercise designed to revise and verify
electoral rolls. The SAVE Act is proposed federal legislation intended to
impose documentary citizenship and identification requirements for federal
elections. Yet both respond to the same underlying democratic anxiety: how does
a country ensure that the electoral roll contains those who are entitled to
vote and excludes those who are not?
The answer in India is
increasingly built around enumeration, verification, claims, objections and
central institutional supervision. The answer emerging in America is being
constructed through federal legislation, state laws, documentary proof,
database checks and litigation. The difference reflects the two countries'
constitutional philosophies as much as their electoral practices.
There is also a subtle lesson for
both democracies. Electoral integrity and electoral accessibility are not
necessarily opposing principles. A strong electoral system must accomplish
both. It must make fraudulent or ineligible voting difficult while ensuring
that a legitimate citizen does not lose the right to vote merely because of an
avoidable administrative obstacle. The real test of any voter-identification or
citizenship-verification system is therefore not how many people it prevents
from voting, but how accurately it distinguishes between an ineligible voter
and an eligible citizen facing a documentary difficulty.
For Trump, the Indian comparison
provides a powerful political argument. It allows him to ask why a country with
hundreds of millions of voters can operate a highly structured identification
system while the United States continues to permit substantial variation from
state to state. It also allows him to frame the SAVE Act as an issue of
electoral confidence rather than simply partisan politics.
But India cannot provide America
with a shortcut. The United States cannot reproduce the Indian system without
confronting its own constitutional structure, its federal division of electoral
powers, its history of voting-rights disputes and its deeply entrenched
state-level administrative machinery. Any attempt to do so through executive
action alone would invite precisely the kind of constitutional confrontation
that the administration is seeking to avoid.
The larger significance of
Trump's remarks, therefore, lies less in his praise of India's electoral system
than in the American debate they illuminate. He is effectively asking whether
electoral integrity should be treated as a national standard or remain
primarily a matter for individual states. The SAVE Act is his legislative
answer. State-level citizenship and identification laws are the decentralised
answer already emerging in parts of the country. The courts will have an
important say in determining how far either approach can go.
India's experience demonstrates
that a vast democracy can combine a comprehensive electoral roll with routine
voter identification and extensive administrative verification. America's
challenge is to determine whether it can achieve comparable confidence without
sacrificing the flexibility, federalism and voting rights protections embedded
in its own constitutional system.
Trump's comparison with India is
therefore both flattering and revealing. It recognises the extraordinary
administrative achievement involved in conducting an election on India's scale,
but it also exposes the fundamental difference between the two democracies.
India has an Election Commission capable of establishing nationwide electoral
procedures. America has a federal system in which the President cannot simply
command uniformity.
That is ultimately why the SAVE
America Act is about much more than voter ID. It is about who controls the
American ballot, who determines eligibility, who bears the burden of proof and
how far Washington can go in prescribing rules for elections conducted by the
states. The immediate political battle may be over citizenship documents and
photo identification, but the constitutional battle beneath it is about the
balance of power in American democracy.

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