Monday, July 14, 2025

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

 

Picture credit: Click here


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.


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.

Tuesday, July 8, 2025

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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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).


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.


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.


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.


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


References:


Friday, June 27, 2025

The Calculated Cruelty: When Violence Becomes a Tool of Patriarchy and Power in West Bengal's Campuses

 


The photo credit goes to here


The recent alleged gang rape of a law student within Kolkata's South Calcutta Law College is not merely another crime against women; it is a chilling testament to the insidious ways in which patriarchal norms, political impunity, and institutional failures converge to perpetuate violence and curb the freedom of women in West Bengal. This incident, eerily reminiscent of the horrific R.G. Kar Medical College and Hospital case less than a year ago, lays bare a deeper, more disturbing truth: that for a certain breed of power-wielding individuals, especially within the politicized campus landscape, violence against women functions as a means of control, a tool for exercising dominance, and a chilling expression of a belief that they can "get away with anything."

The parallels between the Kasba and R.G. Kar incidents are stark and deeply unsettling. In August 2024, the brutal rape and murder of a trainee doctor at R.G. Kar Medical College sent shockwaves across the state.1 The victim's body was found in a seminar room, and a civic volunteer, Sanjay Roy, was later convicted, albeit to a sentence many found inadequate3,4. Both cases occurred within the very institutions meant to be sanctuaries of learning and safety. Both involved alleged perpetrators with connections, however tenuous or direct, to the institutional or political fabric. The R.G. Kar incident sparked widespread protests against violence against women in West Bengal, yet, as The Wire reported, these protests did little to curb the rising tide of violence in the state[1].

The Kasba case further amplifies this grim reality. The alleged gang rape of a law student, reportedly by a former student with links to the Trinamool Congress Chhatra Parishad (TMCP)1,2,5 and two current students, highlights how educational institutions have become fertile ground for the manifestation of unchecked power. The victim's complaint, detailing how she was allegedly confined, assaulted, filmed, and threatened with the release of the footage5, underscores the calculated cruelty aimed at not just physical violation but also the psychological shattering of a woman's autonomy and dignity. This is violence as a means of systemic oppression, designed to instill fear and control.

At the heart of this recurring nightmare is the insidious nexus of patriarchy and political patronage. Violence against women, as numerous studies and lived experiences attest, is fundamentally an act of power and control. In a society where patriarchal structures often view women as possessions or secondary citizens, the violation of their bodies becomes a perverse demonstration of dominance. When this deeply ingrained misogyny finds fertile ground in a political system that prioritizes loyalty over legality, the consequences are catastrophic. The alleged perpetrator's reported links to the ruling party's student wing, as highlighted by opposition leaders1,2, feeds into the public's perception that political affiliation can offer a shield against accountability. This perceived immunity is a significant enabler of continued violence.

This alarming sense of impunity is amplified by the extended absence of student union elections in West Bengal. For over a decade, since 2013, with notable exceptions like Jadavpur University, these elections have largely been suspended8. This vacuum in democratic campus governance has created a power dynamic ripe for abuse. Instead of being accountable to a student electorate, campus leaders often derive their authority from political appointments or informal patronage networks. This allows for the rise of "rowdy leaders" who operate with little fear of reprisal from their peers.

The democratically elected student union acts as a vital check and balance. It provides a formal avenue for grievances, ensures student welfare, and, crucially, holds leaders accountable through the electoral process. Without elections, these informal "leaders" or "dadas" (strongmen) operate as local mafias, controlling campus resources, influencing admissions, and often resolving disputes through extra-legal means, as has been reported in the context of "Syndicate Raj" in West Bengal9. Their power is consolidated through a combination of fear and the belief among students that aligning with them is necessary for navigating the institutional landscape. When such figures are implicated in heinous crimes like rape, it tragically demonstrates their conviction that their political ties will ensure they "get away with anything."

The very act of threatening to leak videos of the assault, as alleged in the Kasba case, is a stark manifestation of this patriarchal control and the abusers' belief in impunity. It is a calculated move to silence the victim, to weaponize shame and social stigma, and to further curb her freedom by holding her digital existence hostage. This tactic preys on societal judgments against victims of sexual violence, reinforcing the patriarchal notion that a woman's "honor" resides solely in her perceived purity, rather than her inherent dignity and right to bodily autonomy.

The ruling Trinamool Congress's reaction, while condemning the Kasba incident and stating that the law will take its course1,2, often struggles to shake off the perception of political interference. Previous allegations of police being pressured to suppress complaints or influence victims' families to withdraw charges in other cases of violence against women in West Bengal, as documented by The Wire, contribute to this skepticism1. When the state's narrative focuses on its NCRB ranking as the "safest city for women" while incidents of this nature continue to emerge, it highlights a disconnect between rhetoric and reality, further fueling the perception of lawlessness and a lack of genuine commitment to women's safety.

To dismantle this dangerous ecosystem, a multifaceted approach is critical. Firstly, the immediate restoration of free and fair student union elections is paramount. This would re-establish democratic accountability on campuses, forcing aspiring leaders to genuinely represent student interests rather than serving political patrons. Secondly, there must be an unequivocal commitment from all political parties to disavow and take strict action against any member, regardless of their position or influence, found to be involved in criminal activities, especially those against women. No political affiliation should ever be a shield for heinous crimes. Finally, law enforcement and college administrations must be empowered to act independently, free from political pressure, ensuring swift and impartial justice. Only by dismantling the structures of patriarchal control and political impunity can West Bengal truly hope to transform its educational institutions into safe spaces where women can pursue their aspirations without the constant shadow of fear and violence.

References:

1.   https://thewire.in/politics/rights/beyond-the-claim-of-safest-place-for-women-the-reality-of-gender-violence-in-west-bengal

2.   https://swarajyamag.com/news-brief/tmc-youth-wing-leader-among-three-arrested-in-kolkata-law-student-gang-rape-case

3.   https://m.economictimes.com/news/india/rg-kar-medical-rape-murder-case-kolkata-court-pronounces-accused-sanjay-roy-guilty/articleshow/117349795.cms

4.   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2024_Kolkata_rape_and_murder

5.   https://www.ndtv.com/kolkata-news/kolkata-law-student-rape-case-2-accused-watched-as-i-was-raped-ndtv-accesses-kolkata-students-complaint-8776302

6.   https://www.newindianexpress.com/nation/2025/Jun/27/tmc-functionary-two-students-arrested-for-alleged-gang-rape-of-law-student-in-kolkata-college

7.   https://www.timesofindia.com/city/kolkata/kolkata-shocker-student-raped-inside-law-college-three-held-including-staffer/articleshow/122107430.cms

8.   https://studentstruggle.in/where-did-the-student-unions-in-west-bengal-go-what-is-happening-in-campuses/

9.   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Syndicate_Raj