Why the toiling masses kicked the communists out

I was in the Delhi [or rather Noida] studios of TIMES NOW television channel when votes were being counted across West Bengal on May 13. And the trend was pretty obvious by 10 am — within two hours. Communists were trailing practically everywhere – from Cooch Behar to Raidighi – as Trinamool Congress candidates stole a march over them across the length and breadth of the surcharged state.

The early signs were unmistakable: I knew exactly what was coming. So I told Arnab Goswami — anchor of the special live poll programme — and my co-panellists to sit back and enjoy the sights and sound of the electoral tornado in north Bengal and tsunami lashing the south!

Three weeks later, questions are still being raised about what triggered the cyclone that flattened the left edifice? Why were communists kicked out of Writer's Building — the state secretariat — after 34 years? As recently as in 2006, the Communist Party of India (Marxist)-led Left Front had won 235 seats out of 294. Then why did the LF's tally suddenly shrink to 62 this time around? Significantly, LF bagged only 41 percent of votes compared to 55 years ago. Why did the majority of voters reject the reds?

It is now abundantly clear that there was a state-wide rebellion against communists who were toppled like a hugely unpopular ruler by angry subjects. Discontent was brewing for years in the countryside. But the popular uprising was delayed because there was no alternative in sight. No sooner did Mamata Banerjee's Trinamool Congress Party emerge as a viable contender for power, ordinary men and women brought down the communists with a vengeance.

But why did the common man rebel? What was his main grouse? Evidently, he perceived the CPI(M) as a control freak and was dying to break free. The party's stranglehold on ordinary people had become such a sore point that they decided to overthrow the party itself so that they could enjoy their freedom and live in peace.

As things stood, no villager could sell or buy land without the permission of the local committee of the communist party which captured power in 1977. Local committee members had a say in everything – and a finger in every pie. One couldn't purchase a motorcycle or tractor without their nod. Matrimonial alliances were not exempted from their purview — and nobody could file for divorce unless they approved of the parting of ways. They also had a say in remarriage. Even funeral expenses were vetted by bossy partymen.

Communists interfered in the private lives of citizens in rural Bengal with impunity. And anyone who dared to question them was promptly taught a lesson by party cadre. The punishment ranged from physical thrashing to confiscation of land or house belonging to the dissenter.

Although such imperious control subverted the rule of law, junior government officials like block development officers, police inspectors and lowly magistrates turned a blind eye to the tyranny of the red party to save their own skin and careers. The party rode roughshod over personal liberties guaranteed by the Indian constitution. Over the years the party became a law unto itself.

The autocratic party ran the lives of poor agricultural workers and craftsmen in villages and bullied rickshawpullers, autorickshaw drivers, domestic help, hawkers and owners of small enterprises like eateries and motor repair units operating off pavements in urban areas. The coercive party spread its tentacles far and wide but left the middle-class or intelligentsia alone for obvious reasons.

Party supporters enjoyed economic benefits which were denied to citizens who voted for the opposition. The faithful were rewarded with Below Poverty Line cards and steady income from poverty alleviation programmes. Similarly in urban areas, members of CITU – the CPI(M)'s trade union – were allowed to illegally operate auto-rickshaws, while members of the hawkers' union owing allegiance to the CPI(M) were permitted to run their business from the pavement and shielded from government agencies like the police and municipality.

Political patronage inevitably created the so-called party society. Reminiscent of the Stalinist era, it split Bengali society into "them" and "us" over three decades. But communist stalwarts, whether Jyoti Basu, Buddhadev Bhattacharya or Biman Basu, were never embarrassed about Stalin's legacy.

Let me now recount an anecdote. In mid-2008 the CPI(M) was so flustered by the stalemate in Singur and Nandigram [where it tried to grab farming land for a car factory and a chemical hub respectively] that it organised a seminar to explore ways to restart the stalled development process. The speakers included Amartya Sen, Pranab Bardhan, Partha Chatterjee, Amit Mitra and Amiya Bagchi. Among the invitees were top CPIM(M) leaders and ministers. Bardhan spoke about Bengal's society divided by patronage and largesse. Chatterjee dwelt on the bitterness created by selective patronage. Sen astutely observed that political differences cannot be resolved by street-fighting. There was a round of applause when Sen added that he was considered a leftist during his student days. There was more clapping when he remarked that he still saw himself as a leftist.

But there was pin-drop silence in Rabindra Sadan when the Nobel laureate gently criticised the Indian communists' undying faith in Stalin the Dictator.

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S. N. M. Abdi is a consulting editor, writer, columnist and broadcaster from India.