Will Bengal Choose Identity Politics or Inclusive Development?

— Lalit Gargg—

Although the formal announcement of the West Bengal Assembly elections is still awaited, the political bugle has already been sounded. The signals this time are clear—the contest may revolve not around development versus claims of development, but around identity, cultural assertion, and the banner of religion. On the occasion of the centenary of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, the proposed Hindu conventions across the state appear, for the Bharatiya Janata Party, not merely as ideological celebrations but as strategic electoral opportunities. On the other hand, Mamata Banerjee seems equally aware that if the electoral ground shifts toward religious discourse, it cannot be left uncontested. The foundation-laying of the “Durga Angan” in New Town, Kolkata, and its symbolic linkage with Bengali identity reflect this strategic alertness.

For decades, Bengal’s politics revolved around class struggle, Left ideology, and slogans of social justice. The Communist Party of India (Marxist) led the Left Front government for nearly three decades. Before that, the Indian National Congress dominated the political landscape. However, the change of power in 2011 marked the emergence of a new axis—Trinamool versus BJP. Today, the Left and Congress have been pushed to the margins, and the contest has narrowed into a bipolar struggle. This polarization has made the election sharper and increasingly identity-centric.

The BJP’s campaign rests on four key planks: the claim that Hindus are under threat in Bengal, illegal Bangladeshi infiltration, women’s insecurity, and corruption. By citing examples from border districts, a narrative is being constructed that the demographic balance is shifting. The issue of illegal infiltration is not new, but it is now being infused with renewed political energy. Incidents such as the RG Kar Medical College case, the teacher recruitment scam, allegations of attacks on Hindus, and corruption cases are projected as symbols of governance failure. The BJP’s objective is clear—to consolidate nearly 70 percent Hindu voters around a shared sense of insecurity and translate it into electoral behavior. Indeed, unchecked infiltration has become one of the gravest challenges to Bengal’s development; it demands firm resolution rather than political exploitation.

Mamata Banerjee’s challenge is twofold. On one hand, she must reassure minorities that she remains their protector; on the other, she must convince Hindu voters that their faith and cultural identity are secure. In the 2021 election, when the BJP aggressively amplified the slogan “Jai Shri Ram,” Mamata responded with “Jai Maa Durga” and recitations of the Chandi Path as a cultural counter-narrative. This time, through symbols such as Durga Angan, she signals that Bengali Hindu identity is not the BJP’s monopoly. She frames religion not in terms of nationalism but regional identity—“Bengal is culturally Hindu, yet politically pluralistic”—this is her underlying message.

Meanwhile, the reported initiative by former Trinamool leader Humayun Kabir in Murshidabad regarding the symbolic reference to the Babri Masjid has added a new layer of complexity. It may trigger a separate polarization among Muslim voters. If Muslim votes fragment, Trinamool’s electoral arithmetic could be affected. In 2021, it secured around 48 percent of the vote and won 223 seats—decisively aided by consolidated Muslim support. The BJP, with 38 percent of the vote and 65 seats, emerged as the principal opposition. If even 5–10 percent of Muslim votes shift, outcomes in several constituencies could change dramatically, potentially enabling the BJP to secure a full majority.

Yet the question is not merely one of numbers but of political character. Will Bengal’s election become a laboratory of religious mobilization? Or will it ultimately return to the issues of development, employment, and infrastructure? Ironically, Bengal once regarded as the country’s economic capital—radiating industry, education, and cultural renaissance—now grapples with stalled projects, sluggish industrial growth, and migration for employment. In Kolkata, unfinished metro lines and the silence of shuttered factories narrate a development story drowned out by political rhetoric.

The departure of the Tata Nano project in 2011 marked a symbolic turning point. While the politics of land acquisition gained popular support, it also fostered an atmosphere of suspicion toward industrial investment. Fifteen years later, Bengal still awaits major investments. Youth migrate in search of jobs, and reports of their being labeled “Bangladeshi” in other states strike not only at economic prospects but at dignity itself. Yet this pain often remains peripheral in electoral discourse, eclipsed by religion, identity, and fear.

Mamata Banerjee accuses the central government of fiscal discrimination; the BJP counters with charges of corruption and appeasement. Actions by investigative agencies are described by Mamata as political vendetta, while the BJP frames them as lawful enforcement. This confrontation has transformed administrative dialogue into political conflict, pushing the development agenda into the background.

The central question remains: can religion-based polarization provide sustainable political solutions? History suggests that while religious mobilization may generate short-term energy, long-term governance must grapple with development, education, healthcare, and employment. If the election is confined to “who represents whom,” the critical question of “who will do what” may remain unanswered.

Bengal’s soul has long rested in pluralism—from the spiritual legacy of Ramakrishna Paramahamsa to the humanist vision of Rabindranath Tagore. This is a land where Durga Puja and Muharram have often been shared social experiences. If politics reduces this delicate social fabric to electoral arithmetic, it risks wounding society’s sensitivity. Conversely, if religious symbols are harnessed to inspire cultural pride alongside a commitment to development, they could play a constructive role.

In this election, the BJP’s strategy is maximum consolidation of Hindu votes; Mamata’s strategy is to integrate Hindu identity with Bengali cultural pride while retaining minority trust. The activism of Muslim political formations poses a challenge to Trinamool but an opportunity to the BJP. This triangular dynamic adds complexity to the contest. Ultimately, however, the maturity of democracy lies with the voter. If Bengal’s electorate prioritizes development, employment, and good governance, political parties will be compelled to recalibrate their narratives. If identity politics prevails, that will shape the future trajectory.

The question is not merely who will win, but what agenda will triumph. Can an election fight on religious lines establish enduring values? Or will it deepen ideological fissures within the state? Bengal has repeatedly offered India new intellectual and moral directions. Once again, it stands at a crossroads—whether to entangle itself in religion-versus-religion debates, or to transform faith into a source of ethical inspiration and developmental commitment.Whatever the electoral outcome, the true test will be whether Bengal can reclaim its economic vitality, cultural openness, and social harmony. If not, however high the banner of religion may fly, the void of development will ultimately be visible to all.