A Saffron Independence: How BJP-RSS is Recasting August 15 in Bengal and Beyond

A Saffron Independence: How BJP-RSS is Recasting August 15 in Bengal and Beyond

Suman nath

Independence Day in India has long been a civic ritual of the Republic. Unlike religious festivals or partisan commemorations, August 15 was imagined as a national moment, where the flag-raising at Red Fort or in schoolyards and municipal offices stood for a collective belonging beyond ideological or sectarian lines. Yet, in recent years, particularly under the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and its ideological parent Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), Independence Day is undergoing a slow but visible metamorphosis. The saffron hue of Hindu nationalism has begun to seep into what was once a secular civic celebration. 

The transformation is not merely rhetorical. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s consistent and effusive praise of the RSS — most recently in his Independence Day addresses — creates space for its reinterpretation of national identity. By foregrounding the Sangh’s claim as the "truest custodian of Indian nationalism," Modi allows the RSS-BJP ecosystem to remodel August 15 in its own image. The result is that the Independence Day we see today is less a commemoration of anti-colonial pluralism and more a stage for Hindu majoritarian identity.

This is becoming increasingly visible West Bengal, where the BJP, still seeking to consolidate its ideological presence, has turned Independence Day into another site of Hindutva experimentation.

Saffron Symbols in Civic Spaces

In many districts of Bengal, within and at the outskirts of Kolkata — August 15 this year was marked not just by flag hoisting but by rituals more commonly associated with Hindu festivals. Makeshift pandals were erected, adorned with saffron buntings alongside the tricolour. At their centre stood not the standard portrait of national leaders but clay idols of Bharat Mata, draped in saffron robes, carrying a saffron flag along with the tricolour.

In several places, the distribution of the Bhagavad Gita replaced the more familiar distribution of sweets, a subtle but telling gesture. It reframes independence as inseparable from Hindu religiosity, situating freedom not in the pluralist vision of Nehru or Ambedkar but in the cultural revivalism of the Sangh. The message was clear: to be truly Indian is to be truly Hindu.

Perhaps most striking in Bengal was the invocation of Gopal Pantha, who is being portrayed as a “protector of Hindus” in the face of Muslims during the 1946 riot. In recent years, BJP-affiliated groups have installed his effigies in Independence Day pandals, presenting him as a symbol of indigenous resistance and proto-nationalism. While Pantha’s historical memory is ambiguous and layered, the Hindutva narrative simplifies him into a Hindu warrior, whose protection of dharma foreshadowed the freedom struggle.

In this way, Independence Day in Bengal is being re-scripted as a civilizational struggle, where the fight against colonialism is reframed as part of a longer battle to assert Hindu supremacy.

Parallel Independence Days

What emerges from these practices is effectively a parallel Independence Day. In one, schoolchildren still gather to sing the national anthem, the tricolour is hoisted at administrative offices, and officials give the ritual speeches. In the other, the RSS-BJP infrastructure creates its own public stages: pandals, processions, and distribution of religious texts. The latter is designed to appeal to grassroots sentiment, where religion and politics have long been intertwined, but now with sharper edges.

The contrast is stark. While the official Independence Day foregrounds constitutional nationalism, the parallel celebration emphasizes cultural nationalism. It is not a day of remembering Gandhi’s satyagraha or Subhas Bose’s Indian National Army; instead, it becomes a day of invoking Bharat Mata, Hindu warriors, and civilizational pride.

In Bengal, this parallel celebration also serves another purpose. For decades, Independence Day was overshadowed by the Left’s narrative of class struggle and the Congress’s attachment to Nehruvian nationalism. The Trinamool Congress, for its part, has often emphasized Tagore, folk traditions, and a softer regional-cultural framing. By introducing a saffronized August 15, the BJP attempts to break into this symbolic vacuum, projecting itself as the custodian of “real” nationalism, uncontaminated by either Left atheism or TMC populism.

Modi’s Endorsement of the RSS

The Prime Minister’s role in legitimizing this reframing cannot be ignored. Modi’s annual Independence Day speeches have often foregrounded the virtues of discipline, cultural pride, and the “civilizational mission” of India, terms deeply resonant with RSS vocabulary. His public acknowledgment of the Sangh as a patriotic organization rehabilitates its historical position, erasing the fact that the RSS was conspicuously absent from the freedom struggle.

This rewriting of memory is not incidental. By linking Independence Day with RSS imagery, Modi ensures that future generations may remember the Sangh not as a fringe sectarian force but as central to the idea of India itself. In Bengal, where the RSS historically had little traction, this legitimation from the Prime Minister becomes a powerful instrument of political pedagogy.

The Saffronization of Ritual

Anthropologists of ritual often emphasize that festivals and public commemorations are never politically neutral. They are stages where symbolic meanings are contested, reaffirmed, and transformed. What the BJP and RSS are doing is to ritualize politics: they borrow the form of festival (pandal, idol, distribution, procession) and merge it with the form of civic commemoration (flag, anthem, national leaders). The hybrid ritual space thus produced is neither fully religious nor fully civic, but a new amalgam where saffron and tricolour blur.

In Bengal’s villages, where religious festivals are more familiar than civic rituals, this strategy is especially effective. A pandal with Gopal Pantha or Bharat Mata, adorned with flowers and saffron flags, feels less alien than a official flag-hoisting ceremony. By translating Independence Day into the grammar of Hindu festival, the BJP-RSS makes it emotionally resonant in a way that state rituals often fail to.

The Political Stakes

Why does this matter? At one level, the saffronization of Independence Day may seem like just another symbolic battle, akin to renaming roads or rewriting textbooks. But symbols matter. If Independence Day itself is redefined as a Hindu festival, then the very imagination of the nation is narrowed. Muslims, Christians, and others may find themselves excluded not by law but by the cultural language of belonging.

In Bengal, where Muslims form more than a quarter of the population, this exclusionary symbolism is politically charged. To distribute the Gita instead of sweets, to raise a Bharat Mata idol instead of a Nehru portrait, is to send a message: independence is not yours, it is ours. The partitioned history of Bengal, with its wounds of displacement and communal division, makes this gesture even more potent.

For the BJP, this is not just about cultural politics but electoral strategy. By turning August 15 into a Hindutva-inflected festival, the party hopes to consolidate Hindu identity across caste and class divides, much like it has attempted through Ram Navami processions. The figure of Gopal Pantha, for instance, bridges local folk memory with pan-Indian Hindutva. He is both “our own” and “one of us” in the larger Hindu pantheon of protectors.

Conclusion: A Different Freedom

Seventy-eight years after independence, the celebration of August 15 is no longer self-evident. What was once a secular civic ritual is now contested terrain. The BJP-RSS project seeks to saffronize the day, to merge it with Hindu identity, and to overwrite the pluralist anti-colonial legacy with a civilizational nationalist one.

In Bengal, this means Gita distribution instead of jilipi, Bharat Mata idols instead of national leader portraits, and Gopal Pantha as a protector-saint of Hindu India. These may look like small gestures, but together they signal the emergence of a different Independence Day — one where saffron overshadows the tricolour.

The stakes could not be higher. If Independence Day itself becomes captive to sectarian reframing, the very idea of Indian freedom risks being reduced to the freedom of one community. In celebrating independence, the nation might well be rehearsing its dependence — on the narrow script of Hindutva.

The author is a political anthropologist and teaches anthropology at GGDC, Keshiary, Paschim Medinipur, West Bengal

Dictatorship as Culture: An Anthropological View of Indira Gandhi and Narendra Modi

 

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Dictatorship as Culture: An Anthropological View of Indira Gandhi and Narendra Modi 

Suman Nath

Fifty years ago, on June 25, 1975, Indira Gandhi imposed a state of Emergency that suspended democracy in India. Half a century later, India is again grappling with concerns over democratic backsliding—this time, without a formal declaration. Though separated by time, political ideology, and context, both Indira Gandhi and Narendra Modi exemplify how power can centralize, calcify, and capture the state’s moral and institutional machinery. But to truly understand what’s at stake, we must look beyond law books and parliamentary debates.

Anthropology, with its emphasis on cultural relativism and diversity, offers a valuable perspective. As Ruth Benedict once wrote, “The purpose of anthropology is to make the world safe for human differences.” In studying power, anthropologists remind us that politics is also performance—full of symbols, bodies, rituals, and ideas that go far beyond policy.

The Emergency: Spectacle of State Power

Indira Gandhi’s Emergency (1975–1977) was India's most overt encounter with authoritarianism. Civil liberties were suspended, the press muzzled, and over 100,000 political opponents jailed. Justifications ranged from “internal disturbance” to vague threats to national stability (Britannica). But beneath the legal rationale lay a cultural script: Gandhi, as Nehru’s daughter, invoked a dynastic charisma that Max Weber might call charismatic authority (Weber, 1947).

What unfolded was more than just political repression. It was a social drama—an authoritarian performance. Gandhi’s shift from being labeled a “goongi goodiya” (dumb doll) to being perceived as the nation’s stern matriarch reveals how power in India often assumes familial and mythic forms.

Nowhere was this performance more disturbing than in the forced sterilization campaigns led by her son, Sanjay Gandhi. Over 11 million people—most of them poor—were sterilized, often forcibly (India Today). It was biopolitical violence at scale: the state not only governed people’s rights but their reproductive capacities too. As Michel Foucault suggested, modern states often govern not by killing but by controlling how people live and reproduce. Here, the state attempted to reshape society by disciplining the very bodies of its citizens.

Modi’s India: Emergency Without a Name?

Narendra Modi has not declared an Emergency—but many argue that his regime is marked by a subtler, more pervasive authoritarianism. Ramachandra Guha, among others, has claimed that Modi’s government may be even more dangerous than Gandhi’s because it slowly erodes democratic institutions while maintaining the appearance of legality (Scroll.in; The Diplomat).

Modi’s rise is an anthropological masterclass in populist performance. From humble tea-seller to national messiah, his story is carefully curated. His persona is omnipresent—on posters, in radio broadcasts, in social media videos—and increasingly indistinguishable from the nation itself (IJFMR). But the real shift under Modi is ideological: where Gandhi used the state to centralize authority within a secular framework, Modi uses Hindu nationalism—or Hindutva—as a cultural glue to justify majoritarianism.

This form of nationalism redefines who belongs where. Through policies like the Citizenship Amendment Act and narratives like "love jihad," the state no longer imagines citizenship in inclusive terms. It constructs the “true Indian” as a Hindu, Hindi-speaking, culturally conservative man—effectively excluding vast swathes of the country (Telegraph India).

Where Gandhi repressed through censorship and arrests, Modi’s regime uses a blend of soft power and intimidation. The press may not be officially censored, but media houses often toe the line. Protest is not illegal, but activists are routinely arrested. The result is a kind of “normalized exception”—a state where democratic norms are hollowed out from within, as political scientist Giorgio Agamben theorized ([Appadurai, 2006]; [Agamben, 2005]).

Anthropology and the Price of Uniformity

What both Gandhi and Modi illustrate is that authoritarianism in India is not merely legal—it is cultural. Both leaders drew upon deeply ingrained symbols: the mother figure, the religious redeemer, the masculine protector. Anthropology forces us to ask: what makes these performances resonate? Why are Indians so often drawn to strong, central figures who promise order, unity, and destiny?

But anthropology also warns us: the cost of such unity is often the suppression of diversity. Clifford Geertz famously wrote that humans live through “webs of significance” they spin themselves. These webs—cultural, linguistic, religious—are what make India vibrant. Centralized power, particularly when culturally majoritarian, tears through these webs, reducing a rich mosaic to a monochrome portrait.

Indira Gandhi’s Emergency, for all its repression, did not attempt to redefine national identity in ethno-religious terms. Modi’s project does. It is not just about governance but about who belongs. That makes his version of authoritarianism more deeply cultural—and perhaps more enduring.

Resistance: Then and Now

During the Emergency, resistance went underground: students, activists, and journalists operated in secrecy, relying on typewriters and pamphlets. Today, resistance lives online and on the streets. From Shaheen Bagh to the farmers’ protests, new cultural scripts of defiance are being written. Art, song, slogans, hashtags—these are the tools of dissent in Modi’s India.

But resistance, like power, is performed. The state now deploys surveillance, digital propaganda, and legal instruments to suppress opposition. Sedition laws are back in vogue. Yet, people continue to speak, often at great risk. In doing so, they preserve not just democracy, but cultural freedom.

The Real Lesson of 50 Years

As we mark 50 years since the Emergency, we must ask: what does authoritarianism look like today? It may not come with tanks in the streets or midnight knocks. It may come with prime-time news, devotional apps, and carefully curated nationalism.

Anthropology teaches us that politics is not just law—it is life, lived through rituals, identities, and beliefs. If we truly want to protect democracy in India, we must also protect diversity, not just as a constitutional value, but as a cultural necessity.

Because when power demands uniformity, anthropology reminds us of a simple truth: democracy thrives not on sameness, but on difference.

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The author is a political anthropologist and teaches anthropology in Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam Government College, Kolkata

References

1. Britannica. The Emergency | India, 1975, Indira Gandhi, History, & Facts. https://www.britannica.com/event/the-Emergency-India
   
   

2. Wikipedia. The Emergency (India). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Emergency_(India)
   
   

3. The Economic Times. 1975 Emergency explained. https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/1975-emergency-explained-a-look-back-at-indias-dark-days-of-democracy-govt-designates-day-as-samvidhaan-hatya-diwas/articleshow/111244301.cms
   
   

4. Wikipedia. Indira Gandhi. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indira_Gandhi
   
   

5. Jaffrelot, C., & Tillin, L. (2021). India's First Dictatorship: The Emergency, 1975-1977. HarperCollins India.
   
   

6. India Today. How Sanjay Gandhi dragged 11 million Indians into sterilisation camps. https://www.indiatoday.in/india/story/sanjay-gandhi-forced-sterilisation-emergency-india-history-244246-2023-09-29
   
   

7. ResearchGate. Forced Sterilization Emergency India. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/266088042_Politics_and_the_Poor_The_Implementation_of_Family_Planning_in_India
   
   

8. The Diplomat. 50 Years Later: How Indira Gandhi's Emergency Compares With Narendra Modi's Authoritarian Rule. https://thediplomat.com/2025/06/50-years-later-how-indira-gandhis-emergency-compares-with-narendra-modis-authoritarian-rule
   
   

9. Scroll.in. Ramachandra Guha: Indira Gandhi vs Narendra Modi – whose regime has been worse?. https://scroll.in/article/1083976/ramachandra-guha-indira-gandhi-vs-narendra-modi-whose-regime-has-been-worse
   
   

10. Telegraph India. Modi versus Indira: Two authoritarian prime ministers. https://www.telegraphindia.com/opinion/modi-versus-indira-two-authoritarian-prime-ministers-prnt/cid/2110266
    
    

11. Official website of PM Narendra Modi. https://www.narendramodi.in/
    
    

12. Stanford University. Modi and Hindu Nationalism. Search in academic databases.
    
    

13. Heidelberg Asian Studies. Resistance during the Emergency. https://hasp.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/journals/asia-europe/article/view/13248
    
    

14. Weber, M. (1947). The Theory of Social and Economic Organization. https://archive.org/details/TheTheoryOfSocialAndEconomicOrganization
    
    

15. The Wire. Indira and Modi Are the Two Most Damaging, Destructive PMs: Guha. https://m.thewire.in/article/politics/indira-and-modi-are-the-two-most-damaging-destructive-pms-weve-had-ramachandra-guha
    
    

16. IJFMR. Populist Politics in India. https://www.ijfmr.com/papers/2024/5/26563.pdf
    
    

17. Hindustan Times. How Narendra Modi resembles Indira Gandhi. https://www.hindustantimes.com/columns/how-narendra-modi-resembles-indira-gandhi/story-qgPESlInpuL1w51t29QGtO.html
    
    

18. WestminsterResearch. Authoritarianism under Modi. https://westminsterresearch.westminster.ac.uk/item/w45v0/increasing-authoritarianism-in-india-under-narendra-modi
    
    

19. Benedict, R. (1934). Patterns of Culture. Houghton Mifflin.
    
    

20. Foucault, M. (1991). Governmentality, in The Foucault Effect. University of Chicago Press.
    
    

21. Appadurai, A. (2006). Fear of Small Numbers: An Essay on the Geography of Anger. Duke University Press.
    
    

22. Agamben, G. (2005). State of Exception. University of Chicago Press.

23. Geertz, C. (1973). The Interpretation of Cultures. Basic Books.

Why Political Violence in Bengal Refuses to Die — And What It Says About India’s Democracy

Source: Click here

From the Maoist-hit jungles of Junglemahal to the burning streets of riot-torn suburbs, West Bengal has been India’s laboratory of political violence for decades. But here’s the twist: it’s not just about politics. It’s about jobs. It’s about power. It’s about becoming someone in a world that offers little else.

Violence in Bengal doesn’t just erupt—it’s manufactured, curated, and circulated through what I call a “fluid machinery of violence.” And no, this isn't about random street fights. This is ethnographic evidence of how violence becomes an alternative career path, how thugs turn into protectors, and how democracy is gamed from the grassroots up.

For over 15 years, I’ve conducted multisite, longitudinal ethnographic research in some of Bengal’s most volatile districts. What I found is disturbing: the same people who once fought Maoists in tribal belts are now fighting Muslims in working-class towns. The faces change. The uniforms change. The script does not.

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From Red Flags to Ram Navami: The Shapeshifting of Violence

In 2008, the forests of West Bengal were on fire—figuratively and literally. Armed Maoists were killing politicians, and the state retaliated with “village militias” like the Gram Shanti Raksha Bahini (Village Peace-Keeping Force). These vigilante groups were born out of fear but morphed into a formidable network of enforcers.

But the real shift came when these so-called protectors turned predators. Political camps set up to counter Maoists became violent nodes of state-backed militia. Young men, displaced or desperate, joined these camps for shelter, food, and a gun. By 2011, this spiral of violence exploded in Netai, where CPIM-linked gunmen fired indiscriminately on villagers, killing nine.

It was the end of one regime—and the birth of another.

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Farming, Cold Storages, and the Economics of Fear

You thought agriculture was peaceful? Think again.

In places like Bardhaman, political violence is intricately linked to the rural economy. Cold storages, rice mills, and “potato bonds” (yes, they exist) are controlled by middlemen who owe their power to political parties. When the ruling party changes, so does the mafia.

Here, violence isn't ideological—it’s transactional. It decides who gets irrigation, who gets to sell potatoes, and who gets beaten up for supporting the “wrong” party. It’s a mafia-like oligarchy, and each tier—from investors to local goons—has a role.

So, when we say "free market" in rural Bengal, it's not just about prices. It's about muscle.

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Ram Navami, Muharram, and the Rise of Identity Wars

Since 2013, another form of violence has surged—low-intensity communal riots. From Canning and Kaliachak to Chandannagar and Asansol, Bengal has seen increasing skirmishes during Hindu and Muslim festivals.

What’s different now is the scripted spontaneity. Whether it's a Facebook post or a procession route dispute, the spark is almost always lit in a deeply polarized, misinformation-laden public sphere. And who fans the flame? Professional goons, local party cadres, and politically connected businesspeople.

These aren’t accidental mobs. They’re actors in a well-rehearsed drama where Ram Navami sword rallies and Islamic Jalsas serve as political theatre.

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Anatomy of a Riot: The Four-Layered Pyramid of Violence

What makes these incidents more than just “law and order” failures is the structure behind them. Based on my fieldwork, political violence in Bengal operates through a four-tiered machinery:

1. Core Group: Mid-level political leaders and economic elites who plan the violence.

2. Professionals: Hired muscle—willing to switch sides if the price is right.

3. Opportunists: Local party workers who loot and burn for reward or recognition.

4. The Public Sphere: Regular citizens radicalized through social media and community whispers.

These layers are porous and constantly in flux. Today’s volunteer becomes tomorrow’s leader. Yesterday’s criminal becomes today’s hero.

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Violence as a Job, a Role, a Performance

The most alarming discovery from my research? Violence has become a career path. In areas with few employment opportunities, becoming a party tough or a religious enforcer is not just tolerated—it’s respected.

They are the local dadas, the ones who “get things done.” And in the absence of formal authority, they become the law.

In this sense, West Bengal doesn’t just have political violence—it has institutionalized violence. And it's not unique. As studies in South Asia show, from Bangladesh’s student riots to India’s communal clashes, violence increasingly functions as a resource strategy rather than an ideological war (Michelutti et al., 2019).

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Why It Matters for India’s Democracy

If you’re wondering why Bengal’s political violence should matter to you, here’s why: it shows how democratic processes can be hollowed out from within. It’s not about stolen ballots. It’s about turning participation into coercion.

When violence becomes the currency of power, elections become mere rituals. Political parties outsource coercion. Citizens outsource justice. And democracy loses its meaning.

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The Warning Signs Are National

Bengal may be the most visible, but it's not an outlier. Similar patterns are emerging across India—from caste-based militia in Uttar Pradesh to communal tensions in Delhi’s fringe districts.

What’s happening in Bengal is not just regional chaos. It’s a national omen.

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Final Takeaway: Don’t Call It Chaos. Call It a System.

Political violence in Bengal is not random. It’s structured, layered, and shockingly resilient. Its agents are not fringe elements; they are deeply embedded in the economic and political fabric of the state.

And the most chilling part? It adapts. Like a virus, it mutates from ideology to economy to identity.

We need to stop seeing these as isolated incidents. They are symptoms of a system. And unless that system is diagnosed and dismantled, we risk normalizing the abnormal—across India.

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Suman Nath is a political anthropologist and the author of “The Production of Political Violence,” published in the Journal for the Study of Radicalism. For the original piece click here

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References:

• Michelutti, Lucia, et al. (2019). Mafia Raj: The Rule of Bosses in South Asia. Stanford University Press. https://www.sup.org/books/title/?id=30961

• Ruud, Arild Engelsen (2010). “Uncivil Politics: Communal Violence and the 'Strongman' in Bangladesh.” In Forum for Development Studies, 37(1). https://doi.org/10.1080/08039410903524783

• Brass, Paul R. (2005). The Production of Hindu-Muslim Violence in Contemporary India. University of Washington Press. https://uwapress.uw.edu/book/9780295744115/the-production-of-hindu-muslim-violence-in-contemporary-india/

• Wilkinson, Steven I. (2006). Votes and Violence: Electoral Competition and Ethnic Riots in India. Cambridge University Press. https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9780511617114

Are we there yet? Bengal Doctors’ protest in the broad spectrum

Symbolic use of spine in the protest march (Source: https://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/kolkata/doctors-gift-a-spine-to-kolkata-police-commissioner-demand-his-resignation/article68601747.ece)

The junior doctors’ protest which rocked West Bengal since August 09 2024, as a junior lady doctor's body was recovered from within the premises of R.G. Kar Medical College and Hospital, one of the most famous medical colleges in the country, demands a broad spectrum analysis.  The incident of rape and murder sparked huge protests with a call to 'reclaim the night’ directive which addressed a spatio-temporal dimensions of vulnerabilities of women in the state, perhaps in the country. It was followed by a series of protests at different places in the state, including some of the villages. Eventually, it engulfed an entire spectrum of people ranging from singers to painters, IT sector employees to students, working women to housewives. The protest ran for months, with a hunger strike by junior doctors and it created a massive upheaval of common people's participation, innovative sloganeering, and songs by famous singers such as Arijit Sing and Shreya Ghoshal. People expected that this protest could end much of the malpractices designed and implemented by the ruling Trinamool Congress (henceforth TMC). One of the most significant anthropological features that came out of the protest is the coexistence of radical self-contradictions, such as, while the protest is political, the Joint Platform of Doctors consciously avoided any party affiliation. The protest is against the administration and existing political regime, but their carefully orchestrated slogans do not talk much of the administration or of the political clout that controls it. While the protest has called for and got people's participation at a large scale, it demanded people forego their political identities and affiliations before coming and participating in the rallies or at the protest sites. This conscious attempt of keeping the movement ‘apolitical’ was replicated at a microscopic level and people chose to participate in rallies which did not carry any party banner.

How to explain this paradox? What does it tell about the political spectrum of the state at large? As we will see, a careful political anthropological analysis would speak a lot about how politics has been constructed in TMC regime, and in what ways this has influenced and won over such an unprecedented protest.

 

TMC's creation of new politics of corruption and violence:

 

TMC came to power with a promise to end the party rule - famously theorised by Dwaipayan Bhattacharyya (2009) as the party society. The Left Front, led by the Communist Party of India Marxist (CPIM) created a detailed and sustained party architecture to rule the state for more than three decades. Party, over the years, with the help of a dedicated cadre base, and a section of educated white-collar professionals such the school teachers installed a system of social mediation which could supersede all other channels of public transactions like the caste and religion. Nath (2018) shows that this created a multilayered mechanism of public transactions. Hence, anyone willing to avail of certain public services had to go through the party, thereby, blurring the boundaries between the party and the government at large. TMC promised to change it. While Ms. Mamata Banerjee ensured that there was no post-election violence at large by asking her followers to play Rabindrasangeet (Tagor's song) as a mark of celebration of Left's defeat in 2011, the immediate fallout was area demarcation and capturing of party offices of the left by the TMC. This was followed by a massive exodus of people from the Left to TMC. Eventually, we have witnessed a breakdown of trade unions and government employees’ associations and pressure groups. Soon, the TMC-run government banned participating in strikes by government employees by making their attendance on such days mandatory.

This was a hint towards the future of the democratic functioning of the state as, during its first term, TMC successfully made prominent societal divisions along the line of occupation. A section of TMC supporters were 'encouraged' to heckle government employees ranging from doctors and professors to clerks and officers. This must be seen as the beginning of what was termed as the 'threat culture.'

While, TMC successfully dismantled the Left's party machinery, the leadership swiftly transferred to a handful of local influential leaders. In my several ethnographic works, I have interacted with these people and found several similarities among them:

a) Most of them have an erstwhile Indian National Congress background

b) They are generally well off in terms of economic status 

c) They have strong networking even during the Left era through local organisations such as the Clubs and Puja Committees

 

Instead of a party organisation, these new players successfully attracted local youths and formed several close-knit grid of 'networks' and 'syndicates.' They started to appropriate not only the public service delivery mechanisms such as the imposition of levy, popularly the ‘cut money’ on development works undertaken by the Panchayat and Municipalities, but also extort on the private players. Over the years, their accumulated wealth enabled some of them to become entrepreneurs. Their entrepreneurial endeavours are heavily dependent on the continuation of TMC rule so that they continue to get 'cut money' in different financial exchanges and 'sanctions' from the local administration. Their capital is crony but the nature of their capital is non-formal as suggested by Dwaipayan Bhattacharyya in his argument of franchisee politics in West Bengal.

 

What happened to the public sphere?

 

It is important to recall that during the 2011 election, a major call for political change was by the civil society representatives ranging from writers to film directors, and actors to painters. As West Bengal has a rich legacy of valuing cultural and academic attainments, TMC used this cultural capital to translate the sentiment into gaining a popular mandate. TMC included key civil society representatives in different government committees to make them what was popularly termed as "Trinamool Panthi Buddhijibi" or TMC-aligned civil society representatives. This seriously affected their public image and reduced their legitimacy and mass appeal. Common people either complied with the corrupt medium of public transactions by paying small amounts of bribes to the local leaders to get public services or become rather aloof. Such petty corruption was legitimised to a great extent and I have shown that the opposition couldn't capitalise on corruption charges brought against the TMC (Nath 2017).

Dutta and Ray (2018) show that for the delivery of public services, TMC started to depend more on the administrative wing of the Local Government. This seriously affected the spirit of local governance and decentralisation. Eventually, West Bengal experienced a disappearance of the active and politically engaged public sphere. Such an over-dependence on individual local leaders, and lack of concrete steps to build up organisations, instead, tapping existing cultural fronts such the clubs and puja committees, Masjid boards, TMC brought something theorised by Nath (2018, 2023) as cultural misrecognition. Here TMC used cultural fronts to legitimise their decisions and reinvent their legitimacy. At about the same time, Mr. Narendra Modi led Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) came to power at the centre and there was a proliferation of Hindutva sentiments followed by a series of low-intense riots in Bengal (Nath, 2022). The public sphere has undergone a serious transformation from being partisan to being partisan and sectarian. In places where riots took place, the Hindu/Muslim divide became extremely prominent.

This moment of transformation completes a full circle from party to identity, from party society to sectarian society, where grassroots organisations became identity-based. BJP became the main opposition party replacing the erstwhile Left and Congress, which essentially gave birth to sectarian organisations under a variety of names affiliated with Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh.

West Bengal opened up new possibilities of political economy where TMC local leaders constructing franchisee politics, indulging in the black economy became the major players and their opposition force worked solely on identity dynamics with narratives like West Bengal is becoming East Pakistan.

 

Doctor's protest - a fresh air?

 

Within this sectarian, violence-infested political atmosphere R.G.Kar incident opened up Pandora's box. While the movement started against the rape and murder of the lady junior doctor, it soon tapped several unaddressed but burning issues like a) widespread corrupt networks operating both inside and outside of the medical educational institutions, b) corrupt people and their affiliation with ruling TMC, c) the extent of alleged malpractice and unconditional support extended allegedly by the party and administration, to name a few. This movement brought out a hidden grudge against the ruling regime. Thus, thousands of people participated in rallies, did social media campaigning and made their presence felt in different parts of the Capital city Kolkata also at different suburbs and also in villages. However, even the slightest intrusion of any political party in the movement was violently rejected by the protesters. The Joint platform of doctors ensured no party involvement in their movement to maintain its ‘apolitical’ character. However, technically, it remained a non-party, but essentially a political protest. It was clear that the intrusion of existing party forces would make it partisan and TMC would label it as a political conspiracy against their regime. The public sphere, which wholeheartedly supported them would turn away.

This apolitical nature of protest and the way by which it ended shows a peculiar nature of West Bengal public sphere. The protest ended with a rather credible escape route provided by the Chief Minister. This needs to be seen as a political win of Ms. Banerjee by creating a public sphere which is apathetic towards the existing parties, be it the ruling regime or the opposition. People are placed in between a party which indulges corruption and malpractices, installed a culture of violence and created a welfare dependent beneficiary survivor and a party which is sectarian and carries an ideology which is alien to Bengal culture. The large-scale support for the doctors’ protest also reflective of the fact that West Bengal is in a condition of liminality, where there are enough reasons and evidence that the existing system is not working like it should be, yet, the new system is yet to be born. Perhaps, the unprecedented support to the doctors’ movement shows that people are desperately looking for a fresh start in politics led by educated youths. The question remains, are we there yet?