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Criminal Politics in Bengal: A Dangerous Nexus

Ashutosh Roy
Criminal Politics in Bengal: When Residents resist booth capturing, chase goons

Criminal Politics in Bengal: A Dark Nexus

Criminal Politics in Bengal is nothing new. Perhaps it has existed in almost every age except the mythical Satya Yuga. And we are certainly living in the Kali Yuga now!

Think of the Gupta Empire. Politics was centralised, and the king’s authority was maintained through an administrative and military machinery. Tax collectors could be feared, courts operated under royal authority, and territorial expansion came either through military conquest or matrimonial alliances. Even in those days, political power and coercion were closely connected. The methods were different, but the underlying relationship between power and force was hardly unfamiliar.

Look at Aryabhata or Kalidasa. Think of Nalanda and the magnificent temples of ancient India. Investment in temples and universities was not merely about religion or education; it could also demonstrate royal wealth, authority and prestige.

Power remained concentrated in the hands of privileged classes, while the burden of the system often fell on those below them. The machinery of the state, whether tax collectors, foot soldiers or other functionaries, ultimately served the interests of those who controlled power.

The forms changed with time. Tax collectors gave way to soldiers, soldiers to men carrying guns and cannons, and eventually to modern political musclemen. Separating criminality from political power was never an easy exercise.

But there was one important distinction in earlier times. The musclemen generally operated below the political leadership. They carried out orders, protected interests and settled scores. They did not ordinarily dream of becoming legislators themselves. That distinction, as we shall see, has become increasingly blurred.

Perhaps the popularity of detective fiction by Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle also reflected the realities of changing societies, where crime, investigation and the limitations of law enforcement became increasingly important subjects of public interest.

But let us leave the world tour and return to Bengal. And Knowledge Mart has discussed about The unique tradition of Political Violence in Bengal even earlier.

Key Takeaways: How Criminal Politics Changed Bengal

Partition, Refugees and the Rise of Local Strongmen

When Partition brought thousands of displaced people into Bengal, they arrived carrying the pain of lost homes, broken families and uncertain futures. Rehabilitation was an enormous administrative challenge. Land distribution, local accommodation and access to government assistance created opportunities for local intermediaries and strongmen to emerge.

There are allegations that local criminals and musclemen played a role in the political mobilisation of the period.

One often-repeated account concerns the 1957 Assembly election, when Chief Minister Bidhan Chandra Roy reportedly faced a difficult challenge from Mohammad Ismail in the Bowbazar constituency. According to accounts of that period, local strongmen, including Gopal Patha, came forward to assist Roy.

The point is not to glorify any particular individual or political intervention. It is to recognise that the relationship between political leaders and local muscle power was already developing.

The food crisis that followed provided another fertile ground for black marketing, hoarding and the influence of organised local groups. When scarcity becomes an opportunity for profit, those who can intimidate, control supplies and influence administration often find themselves in a position of power.

The Naxalite Years: When Political Violence Became a Weapon

The late 1960s and early 1970s were among the most turbulent periods in Bengal’s political history. Governments changed, President’s Rule intervened, and political instability became almost a permanent feature of public life.

Political instability creates opportunities for criminal elements. Every political formation wants to secure territory, influence local administration and control resources. In such circumstances, muscle power becomes an attractive political asset.

Then came the Naxalite movement.

Critics of the movement regard its violent methods, particularly the campaign against so-called class enemies, as one of the darkest chapters in Bengal’s political history. Many people lost their lives in the name of revolutionary politics. At the same time, ordinary criminals could exploit the atmosphere of violence for their own benefit. Looting, murder and robbery could be passed off as revolutionary action, while personal scores could be settled under the cover of ideological struggle.

The distinction between political violence and ordinary criminality became increasingly difficult to establish.

The Cossipore-Baranagar killings of August 1971 remain a grim reminder of the period. The West Bengal government’s notification concerning the inquiry into the massacre records extensive murders, arson and the discovery of bodies in the affected areas. The official inquiry document is worth reading.

Then came the deeply controversial 1972 Assembly election, which brought Siddhartha Shankar Ray to power. The scale of electoral malpractice and intimidation alleged by the Opposition was extraordinary.

Jyoti Basu withdrew his candidature from Baranagar on polling day. A report in The Telegraph recounts how Basu visited polling stations and decided to withdraw after witnessing the violence. The report quotes a CPM leader who accompanied him and describes gunfire, bombing and alleged rigging. Basu’s own account is also available in his essay, Indian Democracy and the Left Experience.

Readers can judge the atmosphere from these accounts. Criminal Politics in Bengal had reached a stage where electoral competition itself was being undermined by violence and coercion.

What followed was an aggressive crackdown on the Naxalite movement. Police action, custodial abuse and allegations of extrajudicial killings became part of the political history of the period. The Cossipore-Baranagar tragedy and the violence surrounding the Naxalite movement illustrate how the state machinery itself could become an instrument of coercion.

There is an interesting contradiction in Siddhartha Shankar Ray’s political legacy. He has long been criticised for the brutal suppression of the Naxalite movement.

Still, he also appointed a commission headed by former Chief Justice of India Justice K. N. Wanchoo to investigate corruption allegations against ministers in his own government, including his Power Minister, Suniti Chattaraj.

The Wanchoo Commission was appointed in 1974, and its proceedings became controversial over the scope of the allegations it was allowed to examine. Ray’s government eventually removed Suniti Chattaraj from the ministry following bribery allegations.

In other words, here was a Chief Minister whose administration was associated with severe repression of political opponents, but who also took action against corruption allegations within his own Cabinet. Political history is rarely as simple as party labels suggest.

Jyoti Basu, the Left and the Politics of Muscle Power

A similar contradiction could be seen in the political career of Jyoti Basu.

He was the Chief Minister of West Bengal, but he was also deeply connected with the trade union movement and served as an all-India vice-president of CITU. During the Left’s rise, class struggle and militant trade unionism occupied a central position in political thinking.

But should a trade union’s primary responsibility not also include protecting the long-term interests of workers by ensuring that factories remain productive and employment survives?

Instead, militant unionism and repeated industrial confrontations contributed to an atmosphere in which many industrialists and business owners felt unwelcome. One can debate the relative responsibility of trade unions, management, state policy and wider economic changes in Bengal’s industrial decline. But the political consequences of confrontation cannot be ignored.

By the time Jyoti Basu recognised the importance of industrialisation, the damage to Bengal’s industrial reputation had already become a major concern.

This was another form of criminalisation of politics: the growing influence of muscle power in industrial and local political disputes. In some places, intimidation and violence became tools for controlling workers, management and political opponents.

And it was not confined to factories.

Does anyone remember the recovery of human skeletons in West Midnapore in 2011, linked by investigators to allegations of political killings during the earlier Keshpur-Garbeta violence? The discovery near the residence of former minister Sushanta Ghosh reopened questions about killings and disappearances dating back to 2002. India Today reported on the recovery.

What about Dinhata? In February 2008, four Forward Bloc activists were killed in police firing during a violent confrontation. The incident demonstrated that even political organisations within the ruling Left Front were not immune to violent confrontations. Read the contemporary report.

And who can forget the burning of Ananda Margis near Bijon Setu on 30 April 1982? Seventeen people were killed. The subsequent judicial and inquiry proceedings remain part of Bengal’s troubled political history. The judicial record documents the deaths and the appointment of an inquiry commission.

I have never believed that ministers or Politburo members personally carried out such acts. These were the deeds of criminals and violent political elements. But the larger question remains: did the government know what was happening, and did it act adequately to stop it?

That is where political responsibility begins.

There were other contradictions too. The Left leadership spoke against illegal infiltration, but did it make a sufficiently serious effort to address the problem? After the demolition of the Babri Masjid, curfew was imposed. Why was it relaxed on a Friday? Was the decision influenced by the need to facilitate Friday prayers? Why did Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee have to withdraw or qualify his criticism of unrecognised madrasas after political objections?

These are questions about the relationship between administration, ideology and political calculations. Governments often make compromises in the name of maintaining their political base. But such compromises have consequences.

From the Keshpur Model to Booth Capture

Remember Mamata Banerjee’s slogan that Keshpur would become the CPM’s ‘Sheshpur’ (the end of the CPM)?

Yet the CPI(M) candidate went on to win by a huge margin. In Arambagh, the Left candidate secured a victory margin of around six lakh votes in the Lok Sabha election.

Such victories did not happen in a political vacuum. Allegations of booth capturing, intimidation and organised muscle power were widespread in Bengal’s electoral history.

In South 24 Parganas, the rivalry between the CPI(M) and SUCI also produced its own local power structures. In many neighbourhoods, political influence extended into the most ordinary aspects of everyday life. People used to joke that even a quarrel between husband and wife could attract the attention of the local or zonal committee!

The joke was funny, but the underlying reality was not.

The CPI(M) had created a political structure in which local party committees exercised enormous influence over society. Political musclemen existed, but they generally operated under a higher political authority. The leadership decided, and the local strongmen carried out the decisions.

That distinction is important. We did not routinely see Left ministers going to jail in the manner that became familiar during the subsequent political era.

Mamata Banerjee and the Changing Face of Criminal Politics

The situation changed considerably after Mamata Banerjee came to power in 2011.

One incident remains particularly significant in my assessment. In November 2011, Mamata Banerjee went to Bhowanipore police station following a clash involving local clubs, youths and the police. The episode became controversial because she intervened after two of her party members had been detained. A contemporary report in The Times of India, published on 8 November 2011, said that four detained people, including two members of her party, were released after a few hours. The report also described the clash between local clubs and the police, and the allegations surrounding the violence.

Perhaps Mamata Banerjee did not realise the larger message her intervention would send. A Chief Minister is also responsible for maintaining law and order. When the head of the government appears to intervene in a police matter involving party supporters, it raises questions about the independence of the police and the authority of the law.

For me, this was a disturbing signal about the changing relationship between political power and criminal elements.

Thereafter, allegations of local strongmen controlling neighbourhoods, collecting money, intimidating opponents and influencing police action became a recurring feature of Bengal’s political debate.

Think of the incidents involving Anubrata Mondal, Sheikh Shahjahan and Shaukat Molla. These names have become associated with wider questions about local political power, alleged intimidation and the relationship between party organisations and strongmen. The allegations and legal proceedings concerning each individual must, of course, be examined separately. But the larger political question cannot be dismissed simply because a particular leader belongs to a particular faction.

The recovery of skeletons in West Midnapore, the violence in Keshpur, and the political confrontations in other districts were not isolated memories. They were reminders of how deeply local muscle power had become embedded in Bengal’s political culture.

The allegations surrounding Ashis Banerjee’s suicide note and the incidents in Birbhum also raise questions that deserve proper investigation rather than political silence.

One of the most disturbing features of this period, as I see it, was the allegation that police officers sometimes waited to find out which political leader would call before acting on a complaint. If the accused enjoyed political protection, ordinary citizens could find themselves helpless.

And if the accused happened to wear a particular religious identity, there were additional allegations of selective treatment. These matters should be investigated on evidence, not reduced to communal generalisations. The rule of law must apply equally, irrespective of religion or political affiliation.

Consider the allegations of police inaction during the violence in Samsherganj. Consider the attack on judicial officers in Mothabari during the 2026 Special Intensive Revision of electoral rolls. Seven judicial officers were reportedly held inside a BDO office for hours on 1 April 2026. The subsequent NIA investigation and arrests made the incident even more serious. The New Indian Express reported on the investigation and arrests.

And what about the vandalism at the BDO office involving allegations against Monirul Islam? Such incidents raise fundamental questions about the ability of political organisations and local administrations to maintain public order.

It would be unfair to say that every Trinamool supporter is a criminal or that every allegation against a party leader is established fact. There can also be legitimate complaints about selective police action. A person may be a genuine political worker and still be wrongly targeted.

But the pattern of incidents, investigations, arrests and allegations cannot simply be dismissed as a matter of perception. Many of these events took place in public view. Citizens have a right to ask how such a political culture was allowed to develop.

And the ministers? They went to jail. Allegations and investigations concerning recruitment, ration distribution, coal, cattle, sand, land and other sectors exposed serious questions about political patronage and corruption.

Watch Man Runs Away With Bengal Panchayat Polls Ballot Box In Coochbehar at Republic World.

I have written extensively on these subjects in Knowledge Mart. There is little point in repeating every detail here. Readers may also refer to my earlier articles on the West Bengal political landscape and the political patronage surrounding Bengal’s intellectual class.

Criminal Politics After the Change of Government

Political power has changed hands, but has the political culture changed with it?

That is the question the BJP leadership must answer.

Many local strongmen who were once close to the previous ruling establishment may now be attempting to change their political colours and establish proximity with the new dispensation. This is hardly surprising. Political opportunism does not have permanent party membership.

But it is disappointing when leaders such as Shamik Bhattacharya appear inclined to dismiss such individuals by saying that they are not BJP or that such behaviour is not part of BJP culture.

That is not an answer.

If someone has benefited from political patronage, intimidation or criminal activity under one government, changing party affiliation does not automatically erase that history. Nor does joining a new political formation provide a certificate of good conduct.

The BJP must be judged by its own actions. If it wants to establish a different political culture in Bengal, it must demonstrate that political loyalty will not provide protection from investigation or prosecution. It cannot inherit the old network of local strongmen and then claim that the problem belongs exclusively to the previous government.

I have already raised questions about the BJP’s responsibilities in my article on the BJP in Bengal and its fairness test.

The challenge is not simply to remove one set of political strongmen and replace them with another. It is to dismantle the system that makes such people politically useful in the first place.

Also read: West Bengal Governance: Where Did We Fail?

The Numbers Behind Criminal Politics in Bengal

This is not merely a question of political rhetoric. The Association for Democratic Reforms (ADR) has repeatedly examined the criminal cases declared by candidates in their election affidavits.

Its analysis of the 2026 West Bengal Assembly election found that 683 of the 2,920 candidates analysed (23%) had declared criminal cases against themselves. Of these, 589 (20%) had declared serious criminal cases. The report also identified 129 constituencies, or 44% of the total, as red-alert constituencies, where at least three candidates had declared criminal cases.

The figures for the major parties were also revealing:

These are self-declared cases in election affidavits. A pending criminal case does not establish guilt, and candidates must be presumed innocent unless convicted. Nevertheless, the figures raise serious questions about the choices political parties make when selecting candidates.

The ADR report also shows that this is not a problem confined to one political party. It is a systemic issue.

Read the full ADR analysis of criminal and financial backgrounds of West Bengal Assembly candidates in 2026.

The Supreme Court has also directed political parties to publish the criminal antecedents of their candidates and explain why they selected candidates facing criminal cases instead of those without such records. Yet the persistence of these figures suggests that legal disclosure requirements alone cannot solve the problem.

Criminals in Politics: The Real Question

Let us be clear about one thing. Criminal elements have always existed in Bengal’s politics. They existed during the Congress era, during the Left Front government and during the Trinamool Congress regime. They will not disappear overnight simply because another party has come to power.

Expecting the complete elimination of criminal elements from politics overnight would be naive.

But there is a fundamental difference between criminals operating under political protection and criminals becoming the political leadership themselves.

In the earlier political arrangement, musclemen generally operated below the leadership. They were useful to politicians, but they were not necessarily the people who made the laws. Over time, that boundary has become increasingly blurred.

Today, the danger is not merely that political parties use muscle power. It is that individuals with serious criminal allegations, local coercive influence and questionable sources of political power can aspire to become legislators, ministers and decision-makers.

That is the real transformation we must examine when discussing Criminal Politics in Bengal.

The question is not whether criminals can be removed from Bengal’s political life overnight. They cannot. The question is whether elected politicians and constitutional institutions will retain control over the political system, or whether those with muscle power will increasingly dictate its terms.

Bengal needs a political culture where criminals cannot become the masters of politicians, where police officers do not wait for political instructions before enforcing the law, and where a party’s flag does not become a shield against prosecution.

Political leaders must lead. Criminals must face the law. And the government must govern.

That should be the minimum expectation of a functioning democracy.
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