The obituary pages of Indian political commentary have been unusually crowded of late. Commentator after commentator has announced the terminal decline, if not the death, of the Left. The evidence, at first glance, may appear persuasive. Electorally, it is much diminished. Its political programme may also seem, to many, out of tune with a transformed society and economy. The tone of such obituaries often carries a finality, as if a long chapter in ideological history has come to a close.
Yet history rarely yields such neat conclusions, because we know that ideologies do not disappear. They recede, recalibrate and return, often when the conditions that gave rise to them reappear in altered forms. The temptation to equate the electoral fortunes of political parties with the vitality of ideas is understandable, but it is also profoundly misleading.
Let us concede that the Left’s crisis in India is real. Electoral setbacks, particularly in longstanding strongholds, have been severe, including the recent one in Kerala. Organisational structures that once commanded admiration have thinned, and the idiom of class politics appears increasingly out of place in a political culture driven by identity, cultural grievance and populism, among other factors. In such a climate, it is perhaps easier to interpret the present moment as an endpoint rather than simply as a phase.
But this reading conflates institutions with ideas because the Left has never been reducible to its organisational carriers. Its stable concerns—such as inequality, labour rights, social justice and the limits of unregulated markets—are rooted not in party offices but in the lived realities of ordinary citizens across India and the world. Whenever disparities widen and livelihoods become precarious, these questions return with renewed urgency.
India’s own trajectory bears testimony to this tension. The economic reforms of the early 1990s ushered in growth and optimism, but they also contributed to a gradual marginalisation of Left parties at the national level. For a time, the narrative of liberalisation appeared unassailable, yet even then the imprint of Left thinking persisted in policy frameworks. Rights-based legislations that expanded transparency, guaranteed rural employment, and recognised the claims of marginalised communities were shaped, in no small measure, by sustained engagement from Left groups and allied civil society. These interventions altered the grammar of State-citizen relations.
The subsequent decade has complicated this narrative. Jobless growth, agrarian distress and the proliferation of informal and gig-based work have introduced new insecurities. The pandemic, in particular, exposed the fragility of livelihoods—already under duress from systemic shocks such as demonetisation and the overall deprioritisation of smaller businesses in the policymaking imagination—with unsettling clarity. The images of migrant workers walking across highways were manifestations of structural inequalities that had accumulated over time. In such moments, questions about the dignity of labour, role of the State and distribution of resources acquire a renewed moral force.
Let us also consider the global experience. The collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 was widely interpreted as the definitive defeat of socialism. In the triumphant aftermath, the language of markets and liberalisation acquired an air of inevitability. Yet within less than two decades, the global financial crisis of 2008 exposed the vulnerabilities of deregulated capitalism. While banks were rescued by the State, austerity measures were imposed on society. A new generation began to question the orthodoxy they had inherited.
Movements like Occupy Wall Street in the US, as well as the resurgence of social democratic and Left-populist politics in parts of Europe, from the rise of Syriza in Greece to the emergence of Podemos in Spain, pointed to a re-entry of Left-inspired ideas into mainstream debate. Even in established democracies, leaders such as Jeremy Corbyn in the UK and Bernie Sanders in the US drew significant public support by foregrounding inequality, public welfare and corporate accountability.
A similar pattern has been visible in Latin America, where the so-called ‘Pink Tide’ that began in the early 2000s saw the electoral success of Left-leaning governments across the region. While this wave receded in the following decade, it has witnessed a notable resurgence in recent years with the return of leaders such as Lula da Silva in Brazil, Gustavo Petro in Colombia and Gabriel Boric in Chile. In both Europe and Latin America, the re-emergence of the Left has been less about ideological nostalgia and more about the adaptability of its core concerns to new economic and social realities.
More recently, figures like Zohran Mamdani in New York and Zack Polanski in the UK have extended this current, channelling popular frustration over housing costs, stagnant wages and corporate power into electorally resonant platforms. Their rise suggests that class-inflected politics, far from being obsolete, is finding renewed traction among voters disillusioned with both centrist orthodoxy and right-wing populism.
Even in countries not traditionally associated with strong left movements, the vocabulary has shifted leftward. Discussions around universal healthcare, minimum income guarantees and corporate accountability have gained legitimacy. Climate change, perhaps the defining challenge of our time, has further strengthened arguments for collective action and state intervention; positions historically articulated by the Left. All of this should serve as a memory check for contemporary commentators.
When I request that the commentators acknowledge this, my intent is not to romanticise the Left, as there are internal limitations that cannot be ignored. Organisational rigidity, an inability to adapt to emerging social coalitions and a disconnect from certain youth segments have weakened its appeal. In regions where it governed for extended periods, the challenge of leadership renewal and responsiveness to changing aspirations remains evident.
Any meaningful revival must therefore be anchored in introspection as much as in opportunity. At the same time, a transformation is underway. Many ideas historically associated with the Left have seeped into the broader political spectrum. Welfare schemes, subsidised services or income support are now de rigueur for parties across ideological divides in India. The vocabulary may differ, the motivations may vary, but the underlying recognition remains: markets alone cannot address the complexities of a deeply unequal society.
The cyclical nature of ideological prominence is closely tied to material conditions. Periods of relative stability tend to privilege narratives of efficiency and individual enterprise. Periods of crisis, by contrast, bring collective concerns to the fore. The present global context, marked by economic uncertainty, technological disruption and ecological stress, suggests that the latter phase may be gathering momentum. Artificial intelligence and automation are raising fundamental questions about the future of work for itself, that is, who benefits from productivity gains and how workers are protected in increasingly flexible labour markets. These are not questions that can be resolved within a narrowly market-centric framework.
What, then, should we make of the present moment in India? It may be more accurate to see it as an interregnum, a phase in which established forms have weakened while new ones are yet to consolidate. The Left’s traditional organisational structures may no longer suffice, but the social questions it engages with are far from resolved. If anything, they are becoming more complex.
Its future, if it is to be meaningful, is unlikely to resemble its past. It may emerge through new alliances that cut across class, caste and region and may find expression in movements around urban precarity, environmental justice and digital rights, issues that were not central to its earlier agenda. It will also require a reimagining of its language, moving beyond familiar slogans to engage a generation shaped by different experiences and aspirations.
The persistence of the Left or any ideology is less about its organisational footprint at a given moment than about the questions it continues to ask. As long as inequality endures, as long as justice remains uneven, as long as dignity is deferred, the impulse that animates left thought will find expression. It may not always be recognisable in familiar forms, but it will endure.
The obituaries, then, may tell us more about the present mood of certainty than about the future of ideas. If history is any guide, that certainty is likely to prove premature.
Manoj Kumar Jha | Member of Rajya Sabha and national spokesperson, RJD
(Views are personal)