11-12-2007, 11:19 PM
Stalinism in Bengal
The Tragedy Of Nandigram
By Amulya Ganguli
No sooner had the glamorous member of the CPI(M) politburo, former Miss Miranda House, Brinda Karat, given her stirring call for unleashing violence against the party's opponents than the loyal cadres took the law into their hands in Nandigram to drive away their adversaries. If they had desisted from baring their fangs earlier, the reason perhaps was the fiasco in March when the deaths of 14 of those involved in resisting the government's move to acquire land raised a countrywide outcry.
But the cadres and the police now have only themselves to blame if the horror of the latest events in Nandigram exceeds what was experienced earlier by the people of the state and the rest of India. The initial calculation of the apparatchiki and their backers in the administration apparently was that if they could stop the media from entering the area, they would be able to minimize the impact of their onslaught on their targeted enemies. But they should have known that no region can be totally sealed off from the outside world even in âredâ Bengal in these days of the ubiquitous television cameras. So, the Marxists are now having to face the wrath of some of their own comrades in the Left Front, who seem to have suddenly realized that sinking with Big Brother in popular estimation was not worth the price of sticking to power.
Area of control
Yet, much what has been happening in Nandigram for the last few months was predictable. The root of the trouble lies in the CPI-M's philosophy, which is shared by its Leftist allies, of measuring their influence by the extent of the area which the parties physically control. It is an outlook which is integral to the commissars. While the non-Left parties do not expect every individual in the constituencies which they have won to subscribe to their ideology, the comrades apparently believe that there is no place for dissenters in âtheirâ areas. And in the absence of such uniform support, they try their best to acquire and enforce it.
This particular aim of the communists is obviously easier to achieve in the countryside than in the towns, where anonymity makes it difficult to ascertain a personâs political inclinations. But in the villages, where virtually everyone knows everyone else, it is easier to make a party's writ prevail. The way to do so is through the deployment of activists, whose reputation ~ or the lack of it ~ is also widely known in the rural areas. As such, only the very brave, or the totally committed, can afford to ignore them. The latter are also invariably successful in their tactics of intimidation because the local people also know on whose side are the police.
It is necessary to remember, however, that notwithstanding such cynical use of the law and order machinery, the ordinary people have silently made their preferences known during the elections by casting nearly 50 per cent of the votes against the Left Front. In 2006, the Left Front secured 50.2 per cent while the Trinamul Congress and the Congress together got 41.2. If the 8.5 per cent won by the other non-Left parties are taken into account, then the total percentage of anti-Left votes goes up to 49.7, only marginally short of the Left Front's tally. But the first-past-the-post system ensures that the Left's unity always enables it to keep its nose ahead of the rest. The Leftists had learnt this vital lesson in togetherness, first, in 1967 when, to their own surprise, the United Left Front led by the CPI-M, and the Peopleâs United Left Front led by the CPI, won more seats than the Congress even though these two groups had fought each other as well as the Congress.
Then, the indispensability of unity was brought home to them again in 1972 when the Congress swept to victory ~ albeit with a bit of rigging ~ because the Leftists had fallen apart, with the CPI joining hands with the Congress. After that, the comrades, except the SUCI, decided that whatever the odds, they would always stick together. And they have been eminently successful in this respect ever since the Emergency of 1975-77 doomed the Congress and handed West Bengal on a platter to the Left Front in 1977. After that it is the Congress which has split in West Bengal, not the communists.
If Nandigram has caused a rift for the first time in 30 years, the reason is that never before had the CPI-M lost physical control over an area for several months at a stretch. Earlier, whenever such a threat arose with the Trinamul Congress establishing itself in areas such as Chhoto Angaria and Keshpur, the CPI-M unleashed its cadres and the police against it ~ just as it has now done in Nandigram. The only difference was that since these clashes were portrayed as political battles ~ which they were, of course ~ there wasnât too much of a shock if only because the state has had a long history of such skirmishes. They occurred between CPI-M and the Left parties in the late Sixties and between Left Front and the Naxalites in the Seventies. The involvement of the police in the anti-Naxalite operations first brought the phrase, âfake encountersâ, into the public domain.
Record of violence
Apart from these incidents, West Bengal had seen violence from the Fifties onwards. A well known incident of that period was the setting alight of trams and buses in 1953 in protest against a one paisa rise in tram fares. And, then, there was the shocking Marichjhanpi episode, mentioned in Amitav Ghoshâs The Hungry Tide, when the East Bengali refugee settlers were brutally evicted from the Sunderbans although, in their days in the opposition, the Leftists had urged them to forcibly occupy land in the Sunderbans instead of being sent to Dandakaranya. In a way, therefore, the state had become so used to violence that such incidents left hardly any impression on popular perception.
If Singur and Nandigram have proved to be different, the reason is that the clashes in these places do not have a political colour per se, but are seen as a battle against poor peasants waged by an uncaring ruling party with the help of its lawless cadres and conniving police. So, the intellectuals, who never cared when the CPI-M had unleashed similar violence in Chhoto Angaria and Marichjhanpi, are now shedding copious tears since their hearts are supposed to be with the impoverished peasantry. But Stalinism is the same irrespective of the victim. If Nandigram makes the academics and writers like Sumit Sarkar and Mahashweta Devi finally wake up to the basically undemocratic and brutal nature of Marxism, it will be a gain, even at a very high cost.
The writer is a former Assistant Editor, The Statesman
The Tragedy Of Nandigram
By Amulya Ganguli
No sooner had the glamorous member of the CPI(M) politburo, former Miss Miranda House, Brinda Karat, given her stirring call for unleashing violence against the party's opponents than the loyal cadres took the law into their hands in Nandigram to drive away their adversaries. If they had desisted from baring their fangs earlier, the reason perhaps was the fiasco in March when the deaths of 14 of those involved in resisting the government's move to acquire land raised a countrywide outcry.
But the cadres and the police now have only themselves to blame if the horror of the latest events in Nandigram exceeds what was experienced earlier by the people of the state and the rest of India. The initial calculation of the apparatchiki and their backers in the administration apparently was that if they could stop the media from entering the area, they would be able to minimize the impact of their onslaught on their targeted enemies. But they should have known that no region can be totally sealed off from the outside world even in âredâ Bengal in these days of the ubiquitous television cameras. So, the Marxists are now having to face the wrath of some of their own comrades in the Left Front, who seem to have suddenly realized that sinking with Big Brother in popular estimation was not worth the price of sticking to power.
Area of control
Yet, much what has been happening in Nandigram for the last few months was predictable. The root of the trouble lies in the CPI-M's philosophy, which is shared by its Leftist allies, of measuring their influence by the extent of the area which the parties physically control. It is an outlook which is integral to the commissars. While the non-Left parties do not expect every individual in the constituencies which they have won to subscribe to their ideology, the comrades apparently believe that there is no place for dissenters in âtheirâ areas. And in the absence of such uniform support, they try their best to acquire and enforce it.
This particular aim of the communists is obviously easier to achieve in the countryside than in the towns, where anonymity makes it difficult to ascertain a personâs political inclinations. But in the villages, where virtually everyone knows everyone else, it is easier to make a party's writ prevail. The way to do so is through the deployment of activists, whose reputation ~ or the lack of it ~ is also widely known in the rural areas. As such, only the very brave, or the totally committed, can afford to ignore them. The latter are also invariably successful in their tactics of intimidation because the local people also know on whose side are the police.
It is necessary to remember, however, that notwithstanding such cynical use of the law and order machinery, the ordinary people have silently made their preferences known during the elections by casting nearly 50 per cent of the votes against the Left Front. In 2006, the Left Front secured 50.2 per cent while the Trinamul Congress and the Congress together got 41.2. If the 8.5 per cent won by the other non-Left parties are taken into account, then the total percentage of anti-Left votes goes up to 49.7, only marginally short of the Left Front's tally. But the first-past-the-post system ensures that the Left's unity always enables it to keep its nose ahead of the rest. The Leftists had learnt this vital lesson in togetherness, first, in 1967 when, to their own surprise, the United Left Front led by the CPI-M, and the Peopleâs United Left Front led by the CPI, won more seats than the Congress even though these two groups had fought each other as well as the Congress.
Then, the indispensability of unity was brought home to them again in 1972 when the Congress swept to victory ~ albeit with a bit of rigging ~ because the Leftists had fallen apart, with the CPI joining hands with the Congress. After that, the comrades, except the SUCI, decided that whatever the odds, they would always stick together. And they have been eminently successful in this respect ever since the Emergency of 1975-77 doomed the Congress and handed West Bengal on a platter to the Left Front in 1977. After that it is the Congress which has split in West Bengal, not the communists.
If Nandigram has caused a rift for the first time in 30 years, the reason is that never before had the CPI-M lost physical control over an area for several months at a stretch. Earlier, whenever such a threat arose with the Trinamul Congress establishing itself in areas such as Chhoto Angaria and Keshpur, the CPI-M unleashed its cadres and the police against it ~ just as it has now done in Nandigram. The only difference was that since these clashes were portrayed as political battles ~ which they were, of course ~ there wasnât too much of a shock if only because the state has had a long history of such skirmishes. They occurred between CPI-M and the Left parties in the late Sixties and between Left Front and the Naxalites in the Seventies. The involvement of the police in the anti-Naxalite operations first brought the phrase, âfake encountersâ, into the public domain.
Record of violence
Apart from these incidents, West Bengal had seen violence from the Fifties onwards. A well known incident of that period was the setting alight of trams and buses in 1953 in protest against a one paisa rise in tram fares. And, then, there was the shocking Marichjhanpi episode, mentioned in Amitav Ghoshâs The Hungry Tide, when the East Bengali refugee settlers were brutally evicted from the Sunderbans although, in their days in the opposition, the Leftists had urged them to forcibly occupy land in the Sunderbans instead of being sent to Dandakaranya. In a way, therefore, the state had become so used to violence that such incidents left hardly any impression on popular perception.
If Singur and Nandigram have proved to be different, the reason is that the clashes in these places do not have a political colour per se, but are seen as a battle against poor peasants waged by an uncaring ruling party with the help of its lawless cadres and conniving police. So, the intellectuals, who never cared when the CPI-M had unleashed similar violence in Chhoto Angaria and Marichjhanpi, are now shedding copious tears since their hearts are supposed to be with the impoverished peasantry. But Stalinism is the same irrespective of the victim. If Nandigram makes the academics and writers like Sumit Sarkar and Mahashweta Devi finally wake up to the basically undemocratic and brutal nature of Marxism, it will be a gain, even at a very high cost.
The writer is a former Assistant Editor, The Statesman