It is striking how minor regional parties — the very actors that make our democracy agile — often end up consumed by recurring internal feuds. The recent suspension of K Kavitha from the Bharat Rashtra Samithi (BRS) of Telangana, followed by her resignation from both the party and her MLC position, is a telling example. Each time I map these ruptures, the pattern seems less about ideas and more about control: Who decides, who benefits, and who is next. These parties tend to rest on narrow social bases, thin organisational depth, and sporadic access to money and media. These together make it extremely sensitive to shocks. A poor election, a misjudged alliance, or a muddled succession plan can trigger a chain reaction. The feud is rarely an aberration; it is built into the ecology in which minor parties operate. And the consequences travel far beyond the party — they reshape the balance of power in the state and sometimes the nation.
Consider Telangana’s story. The movement for statehood was a masterclass in focused regional mobilisation. It turned emotions into an institution and, for a decade, gave the BRS a remarkable run in office. Yet the very coalition that powered Telangana’s birth was never a monolith. During the agitation years, K Chandrashekar Rao (KCR) held multiple factions together under the single purpose of statehood. Once the objective was achieved, the central question changed — from “how do we get a state?” to “whose state is this and what do we do with it?” That shift is where the friction began. Once power is attained, battles over distribution — tickets, posts, funds, credit — start to dominate.
For instance, the recent crisis created over K Kavitha’s suspension may consolidate authority around KCR and K T Rama Rao (KTR), but it also validates the “family feud” narrative that rivals will exploit. The party now carries an added burden: Managing morale among cadres and local leaders who read the tea leaves before every municipal election, by-poll, or Greater Hyderabad Municipal Corporation (GHMC) contest. If the leadership mishandles the equilibrium, vertical splits may widen — rural networks tugging one way and urban organisational networks the other. Congress will keep the spotlight on Kaleshwaram and on the odd family headline; the BJP will call it proof of dynastic decay. The real markers to watch are second-tier leaders in Nizamabad, Karimnagar, and Hyderabad, and the members of the women’s wing who once worked with Kavitha. If they go quiet or drift, the party’s centre of gravity shifts.
Part of the answer to why this sort of split happens in the smaller parties across the country lies in our electoral system. First-past-the-post rewards concentrated social blocs and regional anger, which helps new parties break through. But it also makes them brittle. If even a small chunk of the base moves away or a local alliance frays, seats collapse quickly. Scarcity then returns with a vengeance. Scarcity of offices, funds, media space, and access to the leader. In smaller parties, much depends on one household and a small coterie. The kinship ties that once created cohesion become the fault lines. When a daughter, nephew, or brother believes he or she is being sidelined, the fight spills into the open.
One version of this could be seen in the Samajwadi Party. The rift between Akhilesh Yadav and his uncle Shivpal Yadav was never ideological; both are heirs to Mandal-era social justice politics. The dispute was over succession, ticket distribution, and control of the party machine. That feud demoralised cadres and seemed to have dented the SP in the 2017 Uttar Pradesh election. The Shiv Sena offers another lesson. Built around Bal Thackeray’s persona, the party never fully institutionalised leadership beyond the family. Eknath Shinde did not have to wage an ideological revolution; he mobilised disaffected legislators and secured the party’s name and symbol. Now there are two Shiv Senas, each claiming Balasaheb’s legacy and accusing the other of betrayal. Again, the deeper issue is not loyalty; it is the absence of predictable, credible procedures for leadership transition.
The fallout is not confined to the party. Every day a smaller party spends on damage control is a day its rival can consolidate. In Telangana, BRS’s internal turbulence buys Congress time to recruit leaders, stabilise its government, and set narratives for the municipal and GHMC elections. In Maharashtra, the Sena’s rupture allowed the BJP to re-engineer alliances and return to power. In Uttar Pradesh, the SP’s family feud weakened the party that might have mounted a statewide challenge. Feuds in minor parties, therefore, strengthen larger players and reduce the diversity of voices in our federal system. There is also a subtler cost: Public trust. Voters do not see policy debates; they see cousins and uncles squabbling over posts. Cynicism spreads, and with it a willingness to accept strongman politics as the price of “getting things done.”
What would make these parties more resilient? First, clear and public rules of succession. If a party wants to keep leadership within a family, it must hold transparent internal contests within that frame. If it wants to broaden leadership, commit to time-bound primaries or member-based votes. Second, distribute authority by design. Create standing committees — organisation, finance, candidate selection, disciplinary, alliances — with fixed terms and published minutes. Even a modest separation of powers inside a party lowers the temperature of disputes. Third, invest in cadre-based politics. When ordinary workers feel they have a route to recognition through performance rather than proximity to the leader, intra-party competition becomes productive rather than poisonous. Fourth, open the books. Transparent finances and audited district-level accounts reduce suspicion that one faction is being secretly favoured. Finally, formalise mediation. A respected three-person council — retired judges, senior journalists, or veteran politicians — can help the party land disputes before they become street fights.
None of this is easy. Parties are human institutions; they carry history, ego, sacrifice, and fear. Leaders worry — sometimes rightly — that open contests will empower rivals or invite outside meddling. But the cost of doing nothing is higher. The alternative to rules is recurring rupture, and that weakens the democratic variety that the regional parties were born to protect.
So, Kavitha’s suspension is not simply a family story, nor a Telangana story. It is a reminder of how fragile minor parties can be when leadership is too personalised, opportunities too scarce, and institutions too weak. The lesson is clear: The health of Indian democracy depends not only on free and fair elections between parties, but also on democracy within them. If parties cannot govern themselves predictably and fairly, how can we reasonably expect them to govern us? The fight against factionalism will not be won by clever press releases or cleverer alliances. It could be won — slowly — by building procedures that outlast personalities. Only then will minor parties stop falling to feuds and start delivering the stable, grounded politics they promise.
The writer is professor & head, Department of Political Science, Maulana Azad National Urdu University, Hyderabad
