But relatively little attention has focused on the technologies of rule that the CPI(M) has perfected in Bengal. Political violence appears to be fairly routine, the party has used the state apparatus to bring civil society organisations under its control, protest is routinely stifled, and the line between state and party has almost disappeared. The state in West Bengal has taken over the superintendence of educational institutions and intellectual life to an extent unimaginable in any other state. The kinds of phenomenon that in other states arouse outrage receive only mild censure in West Bengal.
Udayan Namboodiri is no disinterested observer and it is difficult to judge the veracity of every single claim he makes. But overall he has made a compelling, if somewhat rambling case, that the CPI(M)’s use of violence, fraud and intimidation should receive far more critical scrutiny. The book itself is a lengthy reporter’s catalogue of statistical anomalies in election results, violence to target opponents, and the manner in which the state apparatus operates. On occasion, Namboodiri lapses into rhetorical excess and there is no analytical framework holding the argument together. Nevertheless, the book raises a host of important questions and is full of incidental insights.
Perhaps the most interesting of these is the manner in which Buddhadeb Bhattacharya is accomplishing the transition from state communism to state-authorised capitalism. In some ways, Buddhadeb has become the darling of reformers: he is keeping unions in check, giving concessions to attract investors, removing hawkers at will. And perhaps most ironically for a party that prided itself on land reform, he has initiated legislative and policy measures that enable farmers to sell land to promoters. But, as Namboodiri points out, both the party of agrarian reform and the party of new capitalism are built on the same foundation: its ability to coerce recalcitrant citizens into acting according to its dictates.
Indeed, the party’s stake in reform is not a result of any conversion to economic liberalism. Quite the contrary. It is the result of a realisation that the party can act as a broker even in commercial transactions controlling the selling of land and the awarding of contracts. Reform is advancing because it is a new way to serve the interests of the party.
That Namboodiri has a series of important stories to tell is clear. What they add up to is less so. For instance, one of the puzzles raised by Namboodiri’s own argument is this. The CPI(M) itself has never polled more than 40 per cent of the votes in West Bengal, and even if you put together the voteshare of its allies, opposition parties still get over 40 per cent of the vote. Given the extent of fraud that Namboodiri is alleging, and the distortions in the electoral rolls the Election Commission recently uncovered, one might have expected the CPI(M) to dominate voteshares even more. So, how widespread is electoral malpractice? Is the CPI(M) simply being intelligent and targeting only a few key constituencies? Even if coercion exists, how significant is it in explaining the CPI(M)’s continual hold?
The second puzzle is raised by Namboodiri himself. Why is there a conspiracy of silence around the CPI(M)? Yes, bhadralok academics had an intellectual investment in minimising the failures of the party; now supporters of reform don’t care about how it is done so long as it is done; and journalists were occasionally targeted. But given the voteshare of the opposition parties, surely they should have been able to mobilise more outrage against the CPI(M)? As always, the dog that did not bark raises as interesting a question as the dog that did.
