Misplaced sub-nationalism

Mamata Banerjee's latest gamble suggests desperation

When she came to power in 2011, Mamata Banerjee had vowed to change West Bengal: Poriborton was the Bengali word she employed in a campaign that unseated the Left Front. Now, having created the conditions for the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) juggernaut to make significant inroads in the state by polarising the electorate on religious lines for no good reason, she has chosen to interpret her next challenge in the narrowest possible terms, by invoking Bengali sub-nationalism. Those living in West Bengal would have to learn to speak Bengali, she told a gathering three days ago in a district in south Bengal. Her motive was transparently to identify the BJP with a northern, Hindi-speaking hegemony. Her calculation is that since Bengali speakers account for over 85 per cent of the state, her appeal would act as a cultural rallying point.

If anything, Ms Banerjee has displayed unique tone deafness. First, the “Hindi/Hindu” identity has patently not deterred Bengalis from voting for the BJP in larger numbers, delivering 18 seats from just two in 2014. Second, she has misunderstood the nature of Bengali sub-nationalism. It is true that Bengalis harbour an elevated sense of cultural pride. The average Bengali will never fail to remind others that her state boasts two Nobel Prize winners (Rabindranath Tagore and Amartya Sen), one Oscar winner (Satyajit Ray) and the writer of India’s national anthem (Tagore), and a scientist whose name was hyphenated with Albert Einstein (Satyendra Nath Bose) in a famous discovery. Little of this, however, has translated into parochial or nativist predilections. This is principally because the icons of Bengali politics and culture cultivated a national and internationalist outlook.

No one embodies this multi-culturalism more than Bengal’s most famous son, Tagore. But even if he were excluded, the list of those with a similar outlook is long and varied: Swami Vivekananda, who contributed to the concept of nationalism in colonial India; Rammohan Roy’s Hindu revival movement, which drew on the monotheism of Christian Unitarianism; Bengal School artists such as Nandalal Bose, who incorporated Japanese influence into his unique oeuvre; Ray, who admitted to being influenced by Hollywood; Subhas Bose, whose progressive, inclusive politics was ahead of its time. In post-independent India, cultural politics has never been a factor at the hustings, and Ms Banerjee may find herself playing into the BJP’s hands if she chooses to invoke it now.

In this respect, she also appears to have a short memory. Just two years ago, her insistence on imposing Bengali in Darjeeling violently revived the movement for a separate Gokhaland. The agitation brought the region to a standstill, impacting tourism and practically destroying that season’s tea crop, the state’s biggest export earner. Ms Banerjee was forced to backtrack, but should she choose to pursue her linguistic chauvinism anew, Darjeeling could erupt again, adding to the cycle of political violence that is disrupting life in the state. This attempt to rally her base is the latest in a series of mis-steps by Ms Banerjee in countering the BJP. They bear all the hallmarks of desperation and ideological bankruptcy. She urgently needs to come to her senses if what little hold she has over her state and her people is not lost.