Political violence of any sort and on any scale is often a reflection of deep-rooted, suppressed social anger— though enacted at a few removes, like subprime mortgages being sold in the market. For a nation whose freedom was fuelled by the motto of non-violence, the level of political violence it’s seen is a symptom. It happens at three levels: to ensure social/political dominance; for electoral gains; and for the propagation of ideologies through intimidation. Of these three, the second subverts the very mechanisms of democracy.
In the latest example playing out in the West Bengal panchayat polls, we see a most unlikely trio, the BJP, Congress and Left, coming together. Facing the brunt of physical violence from the goons of the ruling Trinamool Congress, candidates of these three parties have failed to file their nomination papers; even aspiring women were seen in videos being kicked and pushed around.
The SC has referred the demand for extension of time for nomination and deployment of central forces to the state poll panel, and it must rise up to the occasion. Mamata Banerjee, who’s looking for a greater role in national politics, must do better than what old feudals used to do in the face of threats. She could trust her own popularity rather than the muscle power of her lumpen cadre to win polls. Not that she’s the only one practising this deadly craft. She herself came out of the Congress’s stable of muscular youth politics.
And the way Kannur in Kerala has remained a killing field for decades earns no credit to the other two, one of whom practised ‘scientific rigging’ behind the iron curtain in Bengal for years. Nor can trishuls, swords, yellow tee-shirts and red bandannas be associated with Ram. Devout Vaishnavs would agree the religious iconography is all wrong. The very message becomes not about popularisation, not even evangelism, but invasion and intimidation. How did violence, outsourced to out-of-job youth, become our primary political vocabulary? Every election sharpens the need for introspection.