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By:

Kiran D. Tare

21 August 2024 at 11:23:13 am

Bengal’s Ludwig Erhard

For decades, Swapan Dasgupta made a career of diagnosing India’s political ailments. As a columnist, editor, author and public intellectual, the erudite and scintillating Dasgupta dissected challenged orthodoxies and defended the intellectual traditions of the Indian Right. However, following his new appointment as the new Finance Minister of a West Bengal in economic doldrums, he perhaps faces the most demanding assignment of his career. His supporters however are confident that if there is...

Bengal’s Ludwig Erhard

For decades, Swapan Dasgupta made a career of diagnosing India’s political ailments. As a columnist, editor, author and public intellectual, the erudite and scintillating Dasgupta dissected challenged orthodoxies and defended the intellectual traditions of the Indian Right. However, following his new appointment as the new Finance Minister of a West Bengal in economic doldrums, he perhaps faces the most demanding assignment of his career. His supporters however are confident that if there is anyone most suited to sort out Bengal’s messy economy, it is Dasgupta. His appointment following the Bharatiya Janata Party’s ascent to power in Bengal after overthrowing Mamata Banerjee’s TMC regime is among the more intriguing political transitions in recent Indian political memory. India has seen journalists cross into politics before. M.J. Akbar moved from the newsroom to the Ministry of External Affairs. Arun Shourie, one of India’s most formidable investigative journalists, became a reform-minded minister in Atal Bihari Vajpayee’s government. Others, from Manish Sisodia to Priya Ranjan Dasmunsi and Chandan Mitra, have made similar journeys. Yet Dasgupta’s case is distinctive. Unlike many journalists-turned-politicians, he was never merely a ‘reporter.’ Whether in debate or through his prolific and trenchant writings, he has always been an intellectual combatant, a scholar of political ideas with a sweeping knowledge of world history by which he leavens those ideas. Dasgupta has always been one of the most articulate exponents of modern Indian conservatism. Educated at La Martiniere College in Kolkata, St Stephen’s College in Delhi and later the School of Oriental and African Studies in London, where he earned a doctorate, Dasgupta cultivated a reputation for formidable scholarship. His books, including Awakening Bharat Mata: The Political Beliefs of the Indian Right and The Ayodhya Reference, revealed an uncommon ability to place contemporary political disputes within a broader historical and ideological framework. For his supporters, he was among the few intellectuals capable of articulating conservative ideas in a language usually dominated by the Left. To critics, he was a sophisticated polemicist. Yet, even his opponents seldom questioned the breadth of his reading or the sharpness of his arguments. However, the challenge facing Dasgupta now is no longer intellectual but administrative. The Bengal he inherits bears little resemblance to the state that once led India in industry, commerce and scientific innovation. As he himself quipped in trademark fashion with a sharp historical analogy, the state’s economy resembled postwar Germany. The figures are sobering. West Bengal’s state debt has ballooned to around Rs. 8 lakh crore during the TMC regime. Thousands of companies have relocated or curtailed operations over the years amid a hostile investment climate. The new BJP government has inherited not merely a fiscal challenge but a crisis of confidence. “We are left with a near-bankrupt treasury,” Dasgupta said. Equally troubling, in his view, is the erosion of trust among investors and entrepreneurs. Bengal’s relationship with business has been uneasy to say the least. First the long night of the Left, followed by the TMC’s anti-business, appeasement brand of politics has ensured that the scars of industrial disputes and land controversies remain fresh. In this dire situation, reviving private investment will require convincing businesses that Bengal has changed. In this respect, Dasgupta’s strengths may prove unexpectedly useful. Throughout his career he displayed an ability to engage with ideas, institutions and stakeholders across ideological divides. His early moves hint at a broader vision. Rather than confining pre-budget consultations to Kolkata, Dasgupta shifted the Finance Department’s attention to Siliguri in a moved suffused with deliberate symbolism. North Bengal has long complained of neglect by governments centred on the state’s southern districts. By engaging tea producers, agricultural interests, tourism operators and local business groups, the newly-minted finance minister appears eager to demonstrate that economic revival will not just be a Kolkata-centric project. That said, debt servicing consumes a substantial portion of state revenues. Welfare commitments are politically difficult to unwind and infrastructure deficits remain significant. While public intellectuals excel at identifying problems, governing demands compromises and the acceptance of imperfect solutions. Still, Bengal’s new finance minister possesses as fine an appreciation of history than any Indian politician around. He knows that states decline not just because economic mistakes but because they lose faith in their future. Restoring that confidence may be the central task of his tenure. For years Swapan Dasgupta chronicled India’s political story from the sidelines. Now he finds himself at the centre of one of its most consequential state-level experiments. Whatever the outcome of his tenure, few would deny that Bengal’s finances have acquired perhaps their most learned custodian in decades.

Insurance Mirage

Farmers in drought-scarred Latur find their claims trapped in a maze of technicalities and delay.

Latur district has long been hostage to the vagaries of the monsoon. With the weather being increasingly defined by erratic temperatures and monsoon patterns, agriculture in Marathwada region is fast becoming a gamble. Each season, farmers stake their livelihoods on the caprice of rain which is either too little or unseasonal, causing crops to wither or rot. The Kharif season of 2025 has followed this weary script.


Erratic rainfall throughout defined the monsoon season. Long dry spells were punctuated by bursts of excessive rain in scattered pockets, leaving fields ravaged. Key crops like soybean, pigeon pea (tur), and black gram (urad) suffered heavily. In many areas, yields fell by more than half. Across Latur district, the estimated damage is said to have stretched over 2.5 lakh hectares. For a region already classified as drought-prone, the blow was particularly severe.


No Compensation

It is precisely for such contingencies that the Pradhan Mantri Fasal Bima Yojana (PMFBY) exists. Touted as a safety net for farmers, the scheme promises financial protection against crop loss. In Latur, between 3.5 and 4 lakh farmers enrolled for the 2025 Kharif season, collectively contributing along with government subsidies, an estimated Rs. 250 to Rs. 300 crore in premiums to insurance companies. The farmers thought this would be a hedge against ruin. Yet, months after the damage, that promise remains unfulfilled as despite widespread and well-documented crop losses, compensation has not reached the vast majority of farmers.


Farmers claims have stalled in a maze of procedural objections. Insurance companies are citing familiar technicalities like ‘data mismatches,’ inconsistencies in survey reports, and anomalies in satellite assessments.


The effect on the ground is stark. Without compensation, farmers find themselves trapped in a tightening financial vise. Debts are accumulating at punishing interest rates. The farmers’ ability to invest in the next sowing cycle by buying seeds, fertilisers or even maintaining basic inputs has been severely compromised. For many households, the absence of timely insurance payments has transformed hardship into crisis.


This administrative lapse is a major failure that cuts to the core of trust. Crop insurance schemes like PMFBY are designed to reassure farmers that the state stands behind them in times of distress. When that assurance falters, the consequences extend beyond a single season. The farmer loses confidence in government schemes and their very purpose is undermined.


What the government needs to do is not indulge in any further explanation for the delay in compensation but intervene swiftly by giving farmers their due. The state government must treat the situation in Latur with the seriousness it demands. Leadership at the highest levels including Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis, has a crucial role to play in breaking the deadlock. Coordinated action between administrative authorities and insurance companies is essential to expedite the verification process and clear pending claims.


More importantly, timelines to payout the overdue compensation must be enforced. Insurance, by definition, is a time-sensitive instrument. A payout delayed beyond a season risks becoming irrelevant. Direct benefit transfers to farmers’ accounts, once their eligibility has been established, should be prioritised to ensure that relief reaches those who need it most, when they need it most.


As climate variability intensifies, districts like Latur will face increasing agricultural uncertainty, crop insurance schemes will become ever more central to rural resilience. But their credibility hinges not on policy design alone, but on its execution. A scheme that works on paper but falters in practice deepens the very vulnerabilities it seeks to mitigate.


For the farmers of Latur, the issue is immediate. Their fields have already borne the cost of an unforgiving season. What they await now is not sympathy, but settlement.


If action continues to lag, the damage will not be confined to crops or balance sheets. It will seep into the fragile compact between the state and its farmers. In Latur today, that compact hangs in the balance.


(The writer is a farmer and resident of Latur district. Views personal.)

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