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Amidst the clouds of green powder and the sound of conch and cymbal, a triumphant Mamata Banerjee can reflect that she has survived Beth M. Payne’s approbation. That wouldn’t have been possible once upon a time when other winds of change, poriborton hawa, also blew strongly in the state. The American consul-general’s fulsome praise would have been the kiss of death for any Bengali politician.
Fearing what it might do to his radical reputation, even Jyoti Basu kept under wraps his assurance to one of Miss Payne’s predecessors that not a single revolutionary squeak would escape his lips in the United States of America if he were granted a visa. His right arm would dangle by his side with the hand determinedly open lest anyone accuse him of clenching his fist in the shoulder-level “Lal salaam” salute. But times have changed. The Left might shriek about the Foreign Hand air-dropping arms in Purulia but not about WikiLeaks reports of Miss Payne “cultivating” Didi. Voters have endorsed her view that “the charge for change” can be led only by Didi, “the most popular politician in the state”.
While Miss Banerjee’s “public rhetoric” is gratifyingly “devoid of any anti-Americanism”, her private overtures to American diplomats suggest “that a Banerjee-led West Bengal government will be friendlier to the United States than the current CPI(M) one”. Whether or not American capital is again “waiting on the door-step” (as Huseyn Shaheed Suhrawardy, undivided Bengal’s last chief minister, thought in 1947), an invitation to the US probably is. Miss Payne pointedly reminded her State Department bosses that the Union railways minister hasn’t yet experienced the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Didi could do with a break after the punishing campaign that made history. But, of course, she can’t abandon the field even for a moment. The real challenge is at home and now. The future not only for her party but for the state’s 92 million people depends on how the woman who has moved from “oppositional street fighter to West Bengal chief minister-in-waiting” (quoting Miss Payne who, like everyone else, expects Didi to quit the Union cabinet) manages the transition at what her manifesto rightly calls “the crossroads of history”. How history shapes will depend almost entirely on the far-sightedness, impartiality and managerial skills of the historic agent of change who was once notorious for her erratic behaviour.
Her manifesto’s action plans for 200 and 1,000 days are fine. But there may be no chance of carrying out the promised reforms unless Trinamul inspires confidence and demonstrates a mature grasp of governance in its first 100 days. Winning a battle isn’t winning the war. The Left may be down but it is not out. The philosophy of the world’s longest-serving democratically elected communist government may be erased from the hearts and minds of people who are moved by pragmatic self-interest. But 34 years of patronage have created deeply entrenched vested interests in every institution of state, and those interests will fight tooth and nail against dislodgement.
Kalyani Chaudhury’s book, When the Pendulum Stops: Death of Bengal Bureaucracy, presents a graphic picture of political control of the State Government Employees’ Co-ordination Committee and the Police Association. Political appointees head most educational institutions; a large number of school, college and university teachers are drawn from the Marxist or fellow-travelling ranks. Some may have boarded the bandwagon of success as they would even if it were painted saffron and flaunted the swastika; but some may also be believers.
Will they shed their allegiance as the retired IAS, IPS and other officers who are now Trinamul’s prized props appear to have done? And if they do, what credence can be placed in this especially expedient (and rewarding) poriborton hawa? A purge would cripple the administration. Ideally, a civil servant’s politics, like his religion, should be a matter of private concern and have no bearing on his official performance. But will either Didi or an angry and bruised Opposition permit such civilized separation of identities? Even many Western democracies now acknowledge a “fast track” for officials who identify with the ruling party. The commitment to “Dalatantra Nai Ganotantra (Not Party rule but Democracy)” may go against the grain of many people since government in India often resembles a durbar headed by a raja in political garb.
It will be especially difficult to live up to the creditable “Badla Noy, Badal Chai (Not Revenge but Change)” slogan because Marxists are not the only politicians with goondas at their beck and call. Indeed, reports suggest that some murderous mercenaries have already crossed to the winning side. Miss Banerjee may be able to spare us the horrors of Sain Bari in reverse. But galvanizing people out of the all-pervasive inertia that hastened the state’s decline and replacing it with a disciplined, vibrant work culture is more relevant to realizing her pledge of “a better and brighter tomorrow”. The noisy melee during yesterday’s victory speech provided an instance of Bengali unruliness. If Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was “the least Indian of Indian leaders” (quoting V.S. Naipaul), Didi’s brisk walk, snappy gestures and matter-of-fact speech make her the least Bengali of Bengali politicians. Nothing else in the state moves as briskly. Ideology doesn’t have a monopoly of the lethargy that extends from Writers’ Buildings down to district capitals.
The most damning indictment of the Left Front, however, is that having triggered the revolution of rising expectations, it faltered in the vision, courage and political flexibility to fulfil it. The Chinese saying, “Due to Mao Zedong, we could stand up. Thanks to Deng Xiaoping, we are getting rich,” highlights the two stages of growth. Land reform and panchayati self-government were vital to the culmination that a born-again Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee might have achieved had he broken with his predecessor’s crony capitalism, disregarded Prakash Karat’s hardline wisdom, and forged ahead with his own programmes to set up industries, add value and generate employment. There was nothing inherently wrong with Nandigram or Singur. West Bengal needs capital for such projects. Trinamul’s promise to “attract large private investments in sectors such as engineering, steel, tea, jute, textiles and other areas of manufacturing, mining, power and food processing” addresses that need.
New Delhi’s backing improves Miss Banerjee’s chances of fulfilling the promise. She will have to consider, therefore, how best Trinamul can keep faith with voters and serve the state. A separate identity enhances her local image and gives her greater leverage vis-à-vis the United Progressive Alliance. But it also gives the Congress leadership greater scope for manoeuvre. Burdened with a crippling debt, West Bengal’s new government cannot hope to realize any of the Trinamul targets — investment in health, education, infrastructure, agriculture or industry — without New Delhi’s generous cooperation. Bearing in mind Pranab Mukherjee’s admission, after his own political free-lancing, that the Indian National Congress occupies the only space for a secular democratic party, a return to the fold might also be logical for a former Youth Congress president who has held cabinet rank under a Congress prime minister. The party’s existing state unit is hardly a credible entity.
Without the UPA, Didi might be able to set up the Tagore Centre for Universal Values, Vivekananda Centre for International Understanding and Nazrul Islam Research Centre of her dreams. She might even succeed in growing litchis, mangoes and chillies, as her manifesto also mentions. But not much more for the promised “regeneration and rejuvenation of Bengal”. In shouldering the tremendous responsibility that has been cast on her, Mamata Banerjee needs the Centre more than the Centre needs her.
POSTSCRIPT: Mamata Banerjee doesn’t talk bull, to lapse into slang. But her scriptwriters do. The manifesto claims that “Good and impartial governance is the bull work of any society”. Mercifully for West Bengal, her vision, courage and labour are a bulwark against illiterate effusion.
