By Sujit Bhar
The electoral setback suffered by the Trinamool Congress (TMC) in the recent assembly elections in West Bengal has opened up a crisis far deeper than a simple defeat at the ballot box. Political parties recover from electoral reverses all the time. What they find much harder to recover from is a crisis of identity, leadership and internal cohesion. The developments that have unfolded since the election suggest that the TMC may now be facing precisely such a moment.
For a party that was born out of Mamata Banerjee’s relentless struggle against seemingly impossible odds, the current situation represents perhaps the gravest challenge in its history. Founded on January 1, 1998, the TMC was not merely another political organisation. It was, in many ways, an extension of Mamata herself. Every worker who joined the party in its formative years did so because of faith in her leadership and her image as a fighter for ordinary people. The iconic twin flowers-and-grass symbol was reportedly drawn by Mamata herself, symbolising a grassroots movement built from the ground up.
Today, however, even that symbol may become the subject of political and legal contestation if rival factions stake claim to the party’s legacy. Such a possibility would have been unimaginable just a few years ago.
The most alarming aspect of the present crisis is not the electoral defeat, but the scale of the rebellion that followed. When 60 (at this point 58, but the other two are expected to rejoin again, to get the two-thirds figure) out of 80 elected MLAs decide to break ranks and claim that they represent the real Opposition, it indicates far more than routine dissatisfaction. It suggests a profound disconnect between the leadership and a substantial section of the organisation.
WAS MAMATA IN THE DARK?
This naturally raises a difficult question: did Mamata fail to understand the extent of dissent within her own party?
For decades, Mamata’s greatest strength was her instinctive understanding of political undercurrents. She possessed an uncanny ability to sense public sentiment before others could. That instinct helped her topple the seemingly invincible Left Front government and establish herself as the undisputed leader of West Bengal.
Yet, leaders who remain in power for long periods often face a common danger. Layers of intermediaries gradually emerge between them and the grassroots. Information becomes filtered. Criticism gets diluted. Genuine feedback is replaced by what the leadership wants to hear. The result is a political bubble.
The scale of the rebellion suggests that dissatisfaction had been brewing for a considerable period. If 60 legislators could unite around a common grievance, the warning signs must have existed long before the revolt became public. The fact that the leadership appeared caught off-guard raises questions about whether those signals were ignored or never reached Mamata in the first place.
A significant part of the discussion inevitably centres on Abhishek Banerjee. Over the past decade, he has emerged as one of the most influential figures within the party. His rise was defended by supporters as a natural generational transition and criticised by opponents as the institutionalisation of dynastic politics.
Interestingly, the rebels have been careful to distinguish between Mamata and Abhishek. Their criticism appears directed less at the founder and more at the organisational structure that evolved around her nephew.
A SIGNIFICANT DISTINCTION
This distinction is politically significant. Mamata built her appeal through direct engagement with people. She cultivated an image of accessibility. Whether addressing village meetings, walking through neighbourhoods, or confronting political opponents on the streets, she appeared connected to ordinary citizens in a way few contemporary politicians could match.
Many long-time TMC workers now argue that this direct connection weakened as power became concentrated around a smaller circle. Decisions increasingly appeared to originate from the top rather than emerge from consultation with the grassroots. Whether this perception is entirely fair or not, perceptions often become political realities.
The consequence may have been that Mamata gradually became insulated from the pulse of the very people who had built her political movement. The emotional bond between leader and cadre, once the TMC’s greatest asset, appears to have weakened.
Another important factor is the transformation of the party’s organisational culture. Political professionals and election management firms, particularly I-PAC, introduced methods that modernised campaigning and helped deliver impressive electoral victories. Data analytics, targeted messaging, voter profiling and centralised campaign management became increasingly important.
These innovations undoubtedly contributed to TMC’s electoral success. However, they may also have produced unintended consequences.
Traditional political parties are sustained not merely by strategy, but by emotion, loyalty and participation. Workers who spend decades building a party expect to remain stakeholders in its future. When political management becomes overly corporatised, grassroots workers can begin to feel like replaceable cogs in a machine rather than valued contributors.
Many old TMC functionaries privately complained over the years that professional consultants enjoyed greater access to decision-makers than party veterans. Booth-level workers who once formed the backbone of the organisation often felt marginalised by a system that prioritised metrics, surveys and presentations.
A political party is not a corporation. It cannot be run solely through managerial efficiency. It requires emotional investment from its cadre. If that investment declines, organisational discipline eventually suffers.
HOW THE BJP BENEFITED
The Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) appears to have recognised this disaffection and exploited it effectively. Rather than confronting Mamata solely through ideological opposition, the BJP focused on highlighting grievances within the TMC itself. It projected itself as an alternative home for dissatisfied leaders and workers.
Political history repeatedly demonstrates that strong parties rarely collapse because of external attacks alone. They weaken when internal dissatisfaction creates openings that opponents can exploit.
The BJP’s strategy appears to have been precisely that: identify the faultlines within the TMC, amplify them, and encourage the perception that the party’s future was uncertain. Once doubts emerge regarding a party’s longevity, defections often accelerate. Politicians are highly sensitive to shifts in momentum, and perceptions of decline can quickly become self-fulfilling.
THE RITABRATA FACTOR
The role of Ritabrata Banerjee in the present crisis adds another layer of intrigue. His political journey has been marked by remarkable adaptability. Having risen through the ranks of the CPI(M), later finding a place within the TMC, and now emerging as a central figure in the rebellion, he exemplifies a modern political phenomenon where organisational loyalty often becomes secondary to personal influence.
Supporters of the TMC leadership view him as a betrayer who exploited opportunities provided by successive political formations. His critics within the party have compared him to Vibhishana, the figure from the Ramayana who sided against his own kingdom. Yet, focusing exclusively on one individual risks missing the larger point.
No single leader can engineer a revolt of this magnitude unless substantial dissatisfaction already exists. Individuals may trigger political explosions, but they do not create the underlying combustible material.
The larger question now concerns the future of the TMC itself.
Political parties often survive electoral defeats. They can even survive leadership crises. What becomes far more difficult is surviving a loss of organisational identity.
THE IDENTITY ISSUE
The TMC’s identity has always been inseparable from Mamata. If a majority of elected legislators challenge the authority of the leadership while simultaneously claiming to represent the true legacy of the movement, the party faces an unprecedented dilemma.
The battle may soon move from the political arena to the assembly Speaker’s office and eventually to the courts. Legal questions regarding legislative recognition, party symbols and organisational legitimacy could become central to the dispute.
But courts can decide legal ownership; they cannot restore political legitimacy. That legitimacy ultimately depends on workers, supporters and voters.
The coming months will determine whether the current crisis represents a temporary rebellion or the beginning of a historic fragmentation. If Mamata can reconnect with the grassroots and re-establish her direct relationship with workers, the TMC may yet survive and rebuild. If not, the party that emerged from one woman’s extraordinary struggle against the political establishment could find itself confronting the most painful irony of all: being undone not by its enemies, but by the alienation of its own ranks.
For the first time since its birth in 1998, the very existence of the TMC appears uncertain. And that uncertainty, more than any electoral defeat, constitutes the real crisis facing Mamata and the movement she created.
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