The violent underside of democracy
New Delhi: On the political landscape of West Bengal, the celebration of democracy often descends into blood-stained imagery. Elections, which ought to embody the spirit of civic rights, frequently emerge instead as violent expressions of fear, retribution, and the assertion of dominance. The most distressing aspect of this reality is that ordinary citizens, especially women are forced to bear its cost with their bodies and dignity.
The brutality inflicted upon a 32-year-old Muslim woman in Cooch Behar in June 2024 stands as a stark and recent example of this tragedy. Allegedly targeted for supporting the Bharatiya Janata Party, she was stripped, assaulted, and nearly drowned by women associated with the Trinamool Congress. This incident appears not merely as an act of political revenge, but as a calculated attempt to inflict social humiliation and instill fear. Earlier, on July 8, 2023, in Panchla in Howrah, a female candidate was paraded through her village in a semi-nude state, with allegations of molestation further compounding the outrage.
These are not isolated incidents. In the aftermath of the 2021 assembly elections, numerous reports surfaced of abuse and sexual violence against women and young girls. It is evident that within Bengal's political arena, the female body is being weaponized as a medium to send a message; a message intended to crush dissent and silence opposition.
This face of political violence is not confined to individual acts; it reflects a deeper structural malaise. On March 21, 2020, in Bogtui village of Birbhum, the murder of local Trinamool Congress leader Bhadu Sheikh triggered a horrific chain of violence. Eight people were burned alive, and another later succumbed to injuries. The gravity of the incident compelled judicial intervention, with the Calcutta High Court ordering a CBI investigation.
Data from the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) underscores the persistence of this trend. Between 2010 and 2019, West Bengal recorded 161 political killings, which is the highest in the country. The figures reveal a troubling pattern: 38 killings each in 2010 and 2011, 22 in 2012, 26 in 2013, 10 in 2014, 12 in 2018, and 47 in 2019. Furthermore, the average of around 20 political murders annually between 1999 and 2016 suggests that violence here is not an aberration but an entrenched political culture. Even after the 2019 Lok Sabha elections, 47 political killings involving workers of the Trinamool and the BJP were reported, with 38 of them occurring in South Bengal alone.
Nothing New
This cycle of violence is hardly new. Its roots can be traced back to the 1970s, when left-wing politics was on the rise and violent confrontations began to take hold. On July 21, 1993, police firing on protesters at Esplanade in Kolkata claimed 13 lives. The Nandigram unrest of 2007-08, sparked by opposition to land acquisition, turned deadly, leaving more than 50 people dead. Even the political transition of 2011 failed to alter the trajectory, within just nine months, 56 CPI(M) workers were reportedly killed.
In essence, the Bengali adage "jor jar, muluk tar" (‘He who holds power, owns the land,’ it's means that 'might is right') has hardened into a grim political reality. Once in power, nearly every ruling force appears to adopt this doctrine. What began during the Congress era continued through the 34 years of Left Front rule and remains evident under the Trinamool Congress, reflecting an unbroken continuity of coercive political practice.
At the heart of this violence lies the panchayat system itself. During the 1980s and 1990s, panchayats were significantly empowered and better resourced, transforming them into key centers of grassroots authority. As a result, panchayat elections have come to resemble not so much a "democratic process" as a fierce contest for dominance. In 2013, 11% of seats were won uncontested, by 2018, this figure had surged to 34% and in the 2023 approximately 105% of seats were elected unopposed. This means that in nearly every 10th seat in the state's three-tier Panchayat seats, candidates were elected without a rival. A clear indication that opposition candidates were either intimidated or violently driven out of the electoral arena. The human cost has been equally stark: 23 people lost their lives during the 2018 panchayat elections, a number that rose to over 45 in 2023.
Deep Alarm
The forms of violence witnessed during elections are deeply alarming. Murders of political leaders and workers, abductions, assaults on polling agents, bombings, booth capturing, and voter intimidation have all become disturbingly routine. In districts like Malda and Murshidabad, even the mention of elections evokes a sense of dread among residents. Despite heavy security deployments, containing such violence continues to pose a formidable challenge for the administration.
To fully grasp this situation, one cannot ignore the interplay of political competition, demographic shifts, and increasing polarization. The intensifying rivalry between the Trinamool and the BJP has further inflamed tensions. Prolonged incumbency, too, tends to breed conditions conducive to violence. The fear of losing power and the relentless pursuit of gaining it both contribute to normalizing coercive tactics.
Perhaps most troubling is the fact that this violence is not confined to the electoral period; it persists throughout the year, peaking as elections approach. Rather than strengthening the foundations of democracy, it is steadily hollowing them out from within. The pressing question, then, is whether democracy in Bengal will be reduced merely to its "outcomes," or whether equal importance will be accorded to the integrity of its "process." Until political parties renounce violence and prioritize dialogue, consensus, and constitutional values, any electoral victory, no matter by whom, will ultimately signify a defeat for democracy itself.
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