“The result is visible in Goa’s governance. Despite being one of India’s most prosperous states with a strong tourism industry, Goa continues to struggle with poor infrastructure, erratic urban planning, and rising unemployment. Environmental degradation continues unchecked as successive governments, regardless of party, prioritize business interests over sustainable development. These failures are not accidental — they are the byproducts of a political system where power is inherited, not earned.
The tragedy is that Goa, with its literate and politically aware population, deserves better. The state’s vibrant civil society, press, and youth movements have the potential to demand more from their representatives. But this requires a shift in mindset. Dynasties will not fade on their own; they must be challenged through the ballot box and civic activism.”
When former Delhi Minister Atishi Marlena recently said on a Goemkarponn podcast that Goa has become a textbook case of dynastic politics, she wasn’t exaggerating. The statement hit a nerve because it reflects an uncomfortable truth many Goans already know but seldom confront – that a handful of political families have treated the state’s politics as a private inheritance.
From the Alemaos and Ranes to the Lobos, Monserattes, and Dhavalikars, Goa’s political landscape has long been dominated by familiar surnames. Governments may change, alliances may shift, but the cast of characters remains remarkably constant. Whether the Congress is in power or the BJP or any regional formation, the same families find a way to be part of the ruling dispensation.
This continuity might appear stable on the surface, but beneath it lies a worrying pattern. Dynastic politics corrodes democracy from within. It turns elections into rituals of name recognition rather than debates on policy or ideology. It discourages young, capable leaders without family backing from entering public life. And worst of all, it makes voters cynical, believing that no matter who wins, the same faces will call the shots.
In Goa, this political culture has deep roots. The Ranes, for instance, have been part of every major government formation since the state’s early years. The Alemaos have managed to remain politically relevant across multiple parties and regimes. The Monserattes and Lobos, now influential power couples, have made seamless transitions between parties, often landing in whichever camp holds the keys to power. The Dhavalikars, who built the MGP into a family enterprise, continue to exert influence disproportionate to their electoral strength.
This is not just about family names; it is about how politics has been reduced to personal fiefdoms. Constituencies are treated as family estates to be passed down from one generation to another. Political loyalty is fluid, not because of ideological flexibility but because of convenience. The goal is not governance or reform but access to power, contracts, and control.
Goa’s small size makes this problem even more visible. With just 40 Assembly seats, the domination of a few families means that political representation becomes limited to a narrow social circle. The rest of the state’s population – young professionals, small business owners, farmers, and workers — remains politically voiceless. This concentration of power also stifles accountability. When the same leaders or their relatives keep returning to office, there is little incentive to perform or to act in the public interest.
Ironically, Goans often play into this system. Voters frequently choose familiar names out of habit or personal connection, not performance. Local patronage networks and short-term benefits often override larger questions of governance. Many voters still approach politicians as benefactors rather than public servants. This dependency sustains dynastic rule.
The result is visible in Goa’s governance. Despite being one of India’s most prosperous states with a strong tourism industry, Goa continues to struggle with poor infrastructure, erratic urban planning, and rising unemployment. Environmental degradation continues unchecked as successive governments, regardless of party, prioritize business interests over sustainable development. These failures are not accidental — they are the byproducts of a political system where power is inherited, not earned.
The tragedy is that Goa, with its literate and politically aware population, deserves better. The state’s vibrant civil society, press, and youth movements have the potential to demand more from their representatives. But this requires a shift in mindset. Dynasties will not fade on their own; they must be challenged through the ballot box and civic activism.
What Goa needs is a new generation of leaders who rise on merit, not lineage. The younger electorate must break free from the illusion of loyalty to political families and vote for those who represent ideas, not surnames. Until that happens, the cycle of dynastic dominance will continue, and the promise of true democracy will remain unfulfilled.
Atishi’s remark should be seen not as an outsider’s criticism but as a mirror held up to Goa. The reflection may be uncomfortable, but it is necessary. For too long, the state’s politics has been defined by families. It is time it was reclaimed by the people.
