The Parochial Turn: An Anthropological Reflection into the New Politics of Bengali Identity

Bengal landscape - lino cut illustration by Nandalal Bose for Sahaj Path 1930

 

The Parochial Turn: An Anthropological Inquiry into the New Politics of Bengali Identity

Suman Nath

I. Introduction: The Unravelling of a Cosmopolitan Myth

For the better part of two centuries, Bengal, and its cultural heart of Calcutta, projected an image of enlightened cosmopolitanism onto the Indian subcontinent's consciousness. It was the cradle of the Bengal Renaissance, a vibrant intellectual crucible that produced the universal humanism of Rabindranath Tagore, the rationalist reformism of Rammohun Roy, and the syncretic spirituality of Sri Ramakrishna and Swami Vivekananda. This was the era of the Bhadralok, the "gentlefolk," whose identity was seemingly defined not by narrow sectarianism but by a commitment to culture, intellectual debate (adda), and a worldview that aspired to transcend the parochial. This celebrated "idea of Bengal," however, is now facing an existential challenge. A rising tide of strident, often belligerent, ethno-nationalism is reshaping its political and social landscape, replacing the language of universalism with the grammar of identity.

The contemporary political arena in West Bengal is a fiercely contested space where the incumbent Trinamool Congress (TMC) and the challenging Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) both strategically wield the potent weapon of Bengali identity. This, however, is not a sudden eruption. Its roots lie deep in the state’s history, and its recent manifestation has been meticulously prepared by the ideological labour of newer ethno-nationalist groups like Banglapokkho. The seismic shift was starkly evident in the 2021 Assembly election, a contest that transformed into a referendum on the very soul of Bengal.

This essay seeks to move beyond a purely political analysis to offer an anthropological deconstruction of this phenomenon. It will treat "Bengali identity" not as a fixed, primordial essence, but as a dynamic and contested construct, constantly being shaped and reshaped through symbolic performances, the invocation of fictive kinship, and the ritualistic creation of an "other." Through this lens, we can understand the recent proliferation of identity politics not merely as electoral strategy, but as a profound cultural drama reflecting deeper anxieties about economic decline, cultural marginalisation, and the very definition of belonging in modern India. This inquiry will delve into the anthropological history of Bengali identity, examining the internal contradictions of the Bhadralok ideal and the lingering trauma of Partition. It will then analyze the role of Banglapokkho as "ethnographers of grievance," who created the symbolic vocabulary for the current moment. Subsequently, we will deconstruct the TMC's masterful performance of cultural guardianship, particularly through the use of kinship tropes, and the BJP's corresponding failure in cultural translation. Ultimately, this essay argues that Bengal is undergoing a fundamental re-negotiation of its collective self, a "parochial turn" that threatens to permanently shrink the once-expansive Bengali mind.

II. The Ghost in the Machine: An Anthropological History of Bengali Identity

To understand the present, one must excavate the past. The contemporary politics of identity in Bengal are haunted by the ghosts of its historical identity formations: the elite Bhadralok, the fractured memory of Partition, and the legacy of the Left Front's three-decade rule.

The Bhadralok Construct: A Contradictory Legacy

The Bhadralok was more than just an educated middle class; from an anthropological perspective, it was a classic "status group" in the Weberian sense. Membership was defined by a constellation of cultural markers: proficiency in a highly standardised, Calcutta-centric dialect of Bengali; a deep reverence for a literary canon stretching from Bankim Chandra to Tagore; a particular aesthetic sensibility; and adherence to a code of conduct known as bhodrota (gentility). This identity, forged in the colonial crucible, was inherently paradoxical. It was cosmopolitan in its engagement with Western thought and liberal ideals, yet deeply exclusionary in its social composition. It was overwhelmingly dominated by the three upper castes of Bengali Hinduism—Brahmin, Baidya, and Kayastha—and its cultural capital was inaccessible to the vast majority of rural and lower-caste Bengalis, as well as the state's significant Muslim population.

This elite group's self-perception as the vanguard of Indian modernity created a hegemonic "idea of Bengal" that equated Bengali culture with Bhadralok culture. This created a stratified social order where cultural legitimacy was intrinsically linked to caste and class. This historical reality is crucial: the celebrated cosmopolitanism of Bengal was never a universally shared experience. It was a privileged status, creating a latent resentment and a sense of exclusion among those outside its hallowed circles, a sentiment that modern identity politics can now easily exploit.

The Trauma of Partition: A Cleaved Cultural Body

If the Bhadralok created a vertical hierarchy, the Partition of Bengal in 1947 created a horizontal schism. From an anthropological viewpoint, this was not merely a redrawing of political borders but a violent cleaving of a single cultural body, a shared linguistic and social universe. It resulted in one of the largest refugee flows in human history and created a profound and lasting "refugee consciousness" within West Bengal. This event bifurcated Bengali identity into two often-antagonistic sub-groups: the Ghoti (the native West Bengali) and the Bangal (the refugee from East Bengal, now Bangladesh).

The lived experience of the Bangal community was one of trauma, loss of homeland (bhitamati), and a desperate struggle for survival and acceptance in West Bengal. This experience, as documented in countless memoirs and scholarly works like Prafulla K. Chakrabarti's The Marginal Men, fostered a deep-seated anxiety about land, belonging, and cultural preservation. (Chakrabarti, Prafulla K. The Marginal Men: The Refugees and the Left Political Syndrome in West Bengal. Lumière Books, 1990. While a specific URL isn't available for the book itself, its academic footprint is well-established.) The Ghoti-Bangal dynamic, with its stereotypes and social tensions, became a permanent feature of the state's social fabric. This historical trauma created a reservoir of collective anxiety—a fear of being displaced, dispossessed, and culturally overwhelmed—that lies dormant within the Bengali psyche. Political actors can reactivate this trauma by framing contemporary challenges, such as migration or economic competition from other groups, as existential threats to Bengali identity itself.

The Left's Sublimation of Identity

The 34-year rule of the Left Front (1977-2011) represents a unique chapter in this story. The official ideology of the Communist Party of India (Marxist) was rooted in class struggle, explicitly rejecting "bourgeois" identity politics. However, the Left did not erase Bengali identity; rather, it sublimated it. While political discourse was framed in terms of class, the state actively patronised a specific, secularised version of Bhadralok culture. It protected and funded Bengali cinema, theatre, and literature, effectively becoming the custodian of Bengal's high culture.

Anthropologically, this period can be seen as one of "cultural preservationism" coupled with economic stagnation. The Left Front government preserved the cultural pride of the Bengali middle class while failing to deliver on industrial growth or employment. This created a generation that was deeply proud of its cultural heritage but profoundly anxious about its economic future. The decline of Calcutta as India's economic powerhouse and the exodus of capital and jobs created a vacuum. When the Left Front’s class-based political narrative collapsed in 2011, it left behind a populace that was culturally self-aware and economically aggrieved—the perfect conditions for the rise of entrepreneurs of identity who could fuse cultural pride with economic grievance.

III. The Ethnographers of Grievance: Banglapokkho and the Making of the 'Bengali Cause'

Into the vacuum left by the Left stepped new actors who re-centred Bengali identity as the primary axis of political mobilisation. Foremost among them is Banglapokkho, an ethno-nationalist organisation that, since the mid-2010s, has acted as an ethnographer of Bengali grievance, meticulously documenting, amplifying, and politicising a narrative of cultural and economic victimhood.

From Grievance to Movement: The Ideological Project

Led by figures like Garga Chatterjee, Banglapokkho’s project can be understood as an exercise in boundary-making. Its central goal is to sharpen the lines between the Bengali "in-group" and various "out-groups." Their primary targets are twofold: the perceived cultural imposition of the "Hindi-Hindustani belt" and the alleged economic exploitation by non-Bengali business communities, particularly Marwaris and Gujaratis, who have historically controlled significant sectors of Bengal's economy.

Their narrative is simple and powerful: Bengalis, the inheritors of a superior culture, have been systematically marginalised in their own homeland. They are, in this telling, a colonised people within the Indian federal structure. This narrative is propagated through a sophisticated use of social media and confrontational on-ground activism. 

The Symbolic Repertoire of a New Nationalism

An anthropological reading of Banglapokkho’s methods reveals a rich symbolic repertoire:

1. Language as a Sacred, Territorial Marker: Their most visible campaigns involve demanding the primacy of the Bengali language on shop signs, in banking services, and in government offices. This treats language not merely as a tool of communication but as a sacred object, a totem of the tribe. The act of painting over a Hindi or English sign with Bengali script is a ritualistic act of reclaiming territory and purifying a space deemed to have been contaminated by foreign influence.

2. The Ritual of Economic Demands: The demand for an 80-90% reservation for "sons of the soil" in local jobs is more than just an economic policy proposal; it is a ritualistic claim for restorative justice. It links cultural identity directly to material well-being, arguing that economic prosperity can only be achieved by purging the system of outsiders who are siphoning away wealth that rightfully belongs to the native population.

3. Digital Tribalism: Banglapokkho has masterfully utilised platforms like Facebook and Twitter to forge a "digital tribe." Here, a community of followers is built through shared memes, historical grievances (the shifting of the capital from Calcutta, the equalisation of freight charges), and a specific vocabulary of othering. This online space functions as an echo chamber where a cohesive group identity is forged in opposition to a clearly defined enemy, building solidarity and mobilising members for real-world action.

4. Defining the 'Other': The construction of the "outsider" (bohiragoto) is specific and loaded with stereotypes. The "Hindi-speaking" person is often portrayed as culturally crude and lacking the sophistication of the Bengali. The Marwari or Gujarati businessman is depicted as an unscrupulous exploiter. These are classic techniques of "othering," where the out-group is stripped of its humanity and reduced to a set of negative characteristics, making them a justifiable target for resentment and political action.

Banglapokkho, in essence, laid the ideological and symbolic groundwork. They tilled the soil of Bengali grievance and planted the seeds of sub-nationalism. They created a ready-made political vocabulary and a mobilised constituency, which an astute political actor could then co-opt and scale up for electoral gain.

IV. The High Priestess of Identity: Mamata Banerjee and the Performance of 'Bengaliness'

If Banglapokkho wrote the script, Mamata Banerjee and the Trinamool Congress delivered the definitive performance. Facing the full might of the BJP’s electoral machinery in the 2021 election, the TMC executed a brilliant strategic pivot, transforming the contest from a battle over governance into a cultural war for the soul of Bengal. This strategy is a masterclass in the anthropological concepts of fictive kinship and political ritual.

"Didi" and "Meye": The Anthropology of Fictive Kinship

Central to the TMC's success was the masterful deployment of fictive kinship—the extension of kinship terms and obligations to non-kin. For years, Mamata Banerjee has cultivated the persona of "Didi" (elder sister). This is not just a nickname; it is a carefully constructed political identity that positions her within the cherished structure of the Bengali family. The Didi is a figure of authority, but also of care, affection, and protection. She is the one who looks after the family, a pre-political role that generates loyalty and emotional connection.

In 2021, this was taken a step further with the slogan "Bangla Nijer Meyekei Chay" (Bengal wants its own daughter). This was an act of profound symbolic power.

• Invoking Kinship: By casting herself as Bengal's "Meye" (daughter), Banerjee transformed the state from an administrative unit into a symbolic family, and the election into a domestic drama.

• Gender and Honour: In a patriarchal society, the "daughter" is a symbol of the family's honour. The slogan implied that this honour was under threat from outsiders, and only the "own daughter" could protect it. This resonated deeply, turning a political choice into a moral obligation to defend the "family."

• Territorial Defence: The phrase "Nijer Meye" (one's own daughter) created an unbreakable link between kinship and territory. She was not just any daughter; she was of this soil, this blood. This framing rendered the BJP's leaders, by definition, as outsiders trying to take over the family home.

The Political Ritual of "Bohiragoto"

The "daughter" narrative was complemented by the systematic, ritualistic "othering" of the BJP as bohiragoto. This was a multi-pronged performance:

1. Linguistic Othering: TMC leaders and supporters relentlessly mocked BJP national leaders for their mispronunciation of Bengali words and names. This was more than just political banter; it was a way of marking them as culturally incompetent, as failing the basic test of belonging.

2. Aesthetic and Ritualistic Othering: The TMC contrasted the BJP's aggressive, masculine chant of "Jai Shri Ram" with Bengal's own devotional traditions, particularly the worship of the female deity, Durga. Mamata Banerjee's public chanting of the Chandi Path (a hymn to the goddess) during the campaign was a powerful counter-ritual, positioning herself as the chief priestess of an indigenous faith against an imported, alien one.

3. Embodiment of Authenticity: Mamata Banerjee’s personal style became a key part of this performance. Her simple, white cotton saree, humble rubber slippers (hawai choti), and colloquial Bengali dialect served as a constant, visual representation of "authentic" Bengaliness. This stood in stark contrast to the crisp, professionally managed image of the BJP's national leaders, whom the TMC successfully painted as a corporate, detached force. She did not just speak for Bengal; she embodied it.

This strategy, as detailed by the campaign's architect Prashant Kishor, was to ensure that every person in Bengal felt that an outside force has come to capture us.  By framing the election in these deeply anthropological terms—kinship, honour, ritual purity, and territorial defence—the TMC made policy debates irrelevant and transformed the vote into an act of profound cultural affirmation.

V. The Unaccommodated Other: The BJP's Crisis of Cultural Translation

The BJP's 2021 campaign in Bengal can be studied as a case of profound cultural mistranslation. The party, accustomed to success with its pan-Indian Hindutva narrative, failed to grasp the unique cultural syntax of Bengal. Its attempts to compete on the terrain of Bengali identity were seen as inauthentic, clumsy, and ultimately, alienating.

The Hindutva-Bengali Syncretism Problem

The core ideology of the BJP is Hindutva, which seeks to create a unified, homogenous Hindu identity. This project ran headlong into the Bengali Bhadralok tradition, which, for all its faults, prides itself on its cultural distinctiveness (swatantrya) and intellectual exceptionalism. The BJP’s model, which had worked to consolidate Hindu votes elsewhere, was perceived in Bengal not as a celebration of Hindu identity, but as an attempt to erase its unique Bengali variant and subsume it into a North-Indian-dominated monolith.

The Performance Misfire: Misappropriating Icons

The BJP's primary counter-strategy was to appropriate Bengal's revered icons for its own narrative. This was a critical error in cultural translation.

• Tagore, the Nationalist? The BJP attempted to project Tagore, the arch-critic of narrow nationalism, as a figure aligned with their vision. Ads featuring Prime Minister Modi's image above Tagore's were met with outrage. From an anthropological perspective, the BJP was violating the "sacredness" of the icon. They were attempting to decontextualize Tagore from his local, cultural milieu and repurpose him for a national political project, an act perceived as sacrilege.

• Vivekananda and Bose: Similarly, Swami Vivekananda’s assertive Hinduism was highlighted while his universalist and syncretic messages were ignored. Subhas Chandra Bose was framed primarily as a victim of the Nehru-Gandhi dynasty, fitting him into the BJP's national anti-Congress narrative. In both cases, these complex figures were flattened into political mascots, an approach that offended the sensibilities of a populace that considers these icons to be their unique cultural property. An analysis by The Wire aptly noted that the BJP's attempts felt like a corporate takeover of Bengal's cultural assets, and that they are losing momentum.

A Tale of Two Rams: The Ritual that Failed

Perhaps the most potent example of this cultural disconnect was the slogan "Jai Shri Ram." In much of North India, this chant has been successfully mobilised as a unifying cry of political Hinduism. In Bengal, however, the primary religious traditions often revolve around Shaktism (the worship of the Goddess in forms like Durga and Kali) and Vaishnavism of a more devotional, less militant variety. While Ram is a respected deity, the aggressive, weaponised Ram Navami processions organised by the BJP and its affiliates were seen by many as an alien cultural import. They lacked the indigenous ritualistic resonance of Durga Pujo, the state's biggest cultural festival. The chant, meant to consolidate Hindus, instead ended up highlighting the BJP's cultural otherness, reinforcing the TMC's bohiragoto narrative. It was a symbol that simply did not translate.

VI. Conclusion: The Shrinking of the Bengali Mind

The political theatre of the last decade in West Bengal, culminating in the 2021 election, represents more than a series of electoral victories and defeats. It signifies a fundamental and deeply troubling shift in public consciousness. An anthropological analysis reveals this is not merely politics, but a story of identity remaking. It is a tale of how dormant historical traumas and contemporary economic anxieties were skilfully activated through the powerful, pre-rational tools of symbolic politics, fictive kinship, and the ritualistic casting out of an "other."

The TMC, by embodying the role of the protective kin, successfully weaponised Bengali sub-nationalism for its political survival. The BJP, through its failure of cultural translation, inadvertently played the part of the threatening outsider, validating the very narrative it sought to defeat. And groups like Banglapokkho continue their ideological work, ensuring that the grammar of grievance and exclusion remains central to public discourse.

The consequence is the "parochial turn"—a palpable shrinking of the Bengali mind. The cosmopolitan ideal, even if it was always an elite and flawed construct, provided an aspirational horizon for an inclusive, open, and intellectually curious society. That horizon is now receding. The vibrant culture of adda is being supplanted by the vitriolic certainty of social media tribes. The complex challenges of de-industrialisation, unemployment, and governance are being dangerously simplified into a crude binary of insider versus outsider. This inward turn is intellectually stifling and socially divisive. It threatens the social fabric of a state that was historically a melting pot and offers no real solutions to the material problems that fuel the very anxieties it exploits.

The critical question for the future is whether this parochial fervour is a transient political fever or the new, permanent condition of Bengal. Can the state reclaim a more inclusive and forward-looking vision of itself, or has the genie of ethno-nationalism, once released, been irrevocably let out of the bottle? What happens to a society when the bonds of kinship, real or imagined, become the sole and suffocating grammar of its politics? As Bengal stands at this crossroads, the legacy of its universalist thinkers hangs in the balance, threatened by the very people who claim to be their heirs.