Punjab politics celebrates the crowd-puller, but it survives on the operator. As Charanjeet Brar joins the BJP, the spotlight turns to a rarely discussed figure: the faceless party bureaucrat who controls access, information, and outcomes without ever facing voters. This article argues that in Punjab, power is not won on the stage—it is quietly assembled behind the curtain.
In Punjab politics, party-hopping is neither unusual nor morally fraught; it is a recognised career strategy. The informal opening of the 2027 Vidhan Sabha election transfer season came on January 16, when four leaders from the Sidhu–Brar circle crossed over to the BJP. Each arrived with personal ambitions and unresolved grievances. While Jagmeet Brar’s latest ideological somersault drew predictable attention, it was Charanjeet Brar who triggered the fiercest backlash—particularly on social media.
The anger directed at Charanjeet Brar was not incidental. It reflected a deeper discomfort with a specific, often misunderstood political figure: the faceless party bureaucrat.
A former naib tehsildar and seasoned political operator, Charanjeet Brar first came into prominence as one of the key organisers of the high-profile Khatkar Kalan conference in 2011, which launched Manpreet Badal’s People’s Party of Punjab. When Manpreet’s inner circle sidelined him, Brar was eased back into the Shiromani Akali Dal, where he served Sukhbir Singh Badal as an Officer on Special Duty for several years. He contested the 2022 Assembly election from Rajpura on an Akali ticket, rebelled against the party in 2024, briefly assisted in forming the Giani Harpreet Singh–led Punar Surjeet Akali Dal, and has now found a political home in the BJP.
To dismiss this journey as mere opportunism is to miss the larger point. Charanjeet Brar is not a mass politician. He is neither a crowd-puller nor a fiery orator, and he has never sought to cultivate a social media persona. His power has never been performative. It resides elsewhere—in organisation, access, and information.
Faceless party bureaucrats are among the most consequential actors in politics, despite their near-total absence from public view. They are unelected organisational figures—general secretaries, in-charges, strategists, and gatekeepers—who keep party machinery running. Their work is unglamorous and largely invisible: drafting press notes, managing committees, preparing candidate lists, recording loyalties, and maintaining factional balances. Yet it is precisely this drudgery that gives them leverage. Complex political organisations cannot function without such labour.
Unlike mass leaders, their authority flows not from rallies but from corridors—not from applause but from access. By controlling organisational processes, they accumulate and monopolise information: who is loyal, who is ambitious, who is wavering, and which faction is gaining ground. This asymmetry allows them to shape outcomes quietly, often decisively. Influence is built by promoting loyalists, blocking rivals, and positioning themselves as indispensable intermediaries between leadership and the organisation.
Control over access is another critical source of power. Leaders depend on these operators to filter demands, manage crises, and implement unpopular decisions. Over time, this dependence deepens. Their invisibility becomes an advantage: they avoid public controversy, allow leaders to absorb praise or blame, and survive political transitions. Power reproduces itself through patronage—those they elevate remain loyal; those they obstruct learn caution.
For these very reasons, faceless bureaucrats are also deeply resented. They exercise enormous influence without electoral legitimacy, creating a democratic deficit within parties. They are accused of stifling new talent, privileging loyalty over merit, and punishing dissent discreetly. Most provocatively, they often outlast charismatic leaders, appearing as permanent rulers within temporary political regimes.
History is replete with examples. Martin Bormann controlled access to Hitler; Mikhail Suslov shaped Soviet leadership for decades without ever occupying the top post. In India, figures such as R.K. Dhawan and Ahmed Patel wielded decisive power through organisation, trust, and arithmetic rather than mass appeal. Even Amit Shah’s early ascent owed less to charisma than to his command over party organisation and electoral logistics.
Punjab’s loud, personality-driven politics has produced fewer such figures—but they exist. Charanjeet Brar is one. Captain Sandeep Sandhu, long indispensable to the Congress organisation under Captain Amarinder Singh and later Raja Warring, is another. In a political culture that often confuses rhetoric with leadership, such figures are simultaneously resented and indispensable.
Seen through this lens, the BJP’s induction of Charanjeet Brar assumes greater significance. The party has long struggled in Punjab, frequently relying on defectors with shallow social roots and limited organisational depth. Brar offers something different: a tireless organisation man with deep knowledge of the Akali Dal’s internal mechanics, rural power structures, and factional arithmetic. He understands how decisions in Punjab politics are actually made—and quietly undone.
Whether the BJP can effectively deploy this asset remains to be seen. Faceless bureaucrats are powerful only when trusted by leadership and granted operational autonomy. But in acquiring Charanjeet Brar, the BJP may have secured something more valuable than a crowd-puller. It has gained an operator who knows that in Punjab politics, power is rarely seized on the stage—it is assembled patiently, piece by piece, behind the curtain.
Prof Harjeshwar Singh
Prof Harjeshwar Pal Singh is a veteran writer on Punjab History and Politics. Director, Punjab Thinks