The 1960s were a time of student uprisings across the world. Militant socialist students in Europe, especially in France and West Germany, staged protests with the aim of bringing about revolutions in their countries. Anti-war students and “hippies” in the US opposed the military intervention in Vietnam. There were student movements against undemocratic regimes in Latin America and in countries of the former Soviet bloc as well. While all these protests made for spectacular news, and are duly commemorated every year, only a few of them resulted in a concrete political change. The anti-Hindi agitations in Tamil Nadu of the 1960s are one such exception.

Led predominantly by students, the anti-Hindi agitations contributed to unseating the ruling Congress and bringing the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK) to power in 1967. Ever since, only Dravidian parties have formed the government in Tamil Nadu.

Also Read | How Dravidian politics offers a bulwark against the exclusionary politics of Hindutva

While the Dravidian Movement, its leaders and parties, its policies and governance have all received significant academic attention, there is not much work dedicated to the anti-Hindi agitations—which marked a decisive turning point in Tamil Nadu’s politics—apart from articles by the scholars Robert L. Hardgrave, Jr, and Duncan B. Forrester. R. Vijaya Sankar’s timely translation of Hindi Imperialism, whose author, Aladi Aruna, was an active participant in the anti-Hindi agitations and later became an important leader in the DMK, should kindle interest in this crucial political movement of modern Tamil Nadu among a wider audience. Not only is Hindi Imperialism a document of a turbulent time authored by a participant-observer, it also speaks to the political issues of our times.

Aruna asserts proudly: “Dravidians and Bengalis are the only people in the world who created a revolution to protect their mother tongue.” There has been a strong Tamil cultural-nationalist sentiment since the dawn of modernity in colonial Madras, accompanied by opposition to “Aryan” Sanskrit. Several Tamil intellectuals counterposed imagined egalitarian Tamil pasts against what they saw as a hierarchal north Indian-Sanskrit-Aryan culture. Hindi was seen as the tongue of Aryan domination over the South.

The Anti-Hindi ‘Revolution’

The anti-Hindi mood got sharpened when C. Rajagopalachari (popularly known as Rajaji), the then Premier of the Madras presidency, made Hindi a compulsory subject in 1937. This was opposed by several Tamil political leaders and social reformers. The protests saw the participation of people across caste and religious divides and was noted for the active involvement of women. The protesters Natarajan and Thalamuthu died in custody and instantly became martyrs of the resistance. “Periyar” E.V. Ramasamy, who was already an established leader by then, played a prominent role in these protests.

This period saw his reach grow wider with the entry of a new crop of militant and articulate youths, chief among whom was C.N. Annadurai. Meanwhile, a student, Muthuvel Karunanidhi, neglected his schooling to take part in the anti-Hindi agitations. Arrests failed to contain the uprising, and in 1940, Hindi as a compulsory subject was withdrawn—only to be reinstated soon after Independence.

When Annadurai broke from Periyar to form the DMK, most of the young Dravidianists who left with him had already proven their mettle as capable organisers and leaders. From 1949 to 1967, the DMK was uncompromising on Tamil assertion, federalism, and opposition to “Hindi imperialism”. Although there were other leaders and outfits fighting for Tamil rights, the DMK became the vanguard of the anti-Hindi protests in this period.

It is worth remembering that the 16th Amendment to the Constitution, which prohibits advocacy of separatism, was designed in response to the DMK. Aruna captures the key role played by these protests in shaping the Official Languages Act of 1963, which allowed for the continuation of English along with Hindi instead of Hindi as the sole official language as was originally planned. Further, the 1968 language resolution made it incumbent on the Indian state to protect and contribute to the languages in the Eighth Schedule. On coming to power, the DMK brought a two-language formula (Tamil and English) to the State, which has since been guarded by the different Dravidian Chief Ministers.

Interestingly, Rajaji, against whom the original anti-Hindi agitations were waged, himself opposed Hindi imposition in the 1950s and became a DMK ally in the 1960s. On the other hand, Periyar took a thoroughly anti-DMK position in the wake of the 1960s agitations; in some instances, he called for a ban on the party and, in others, for force to be used against the protesters who damaged public property. In Aruna’s partisan and linear narrative, such uncomfortable aspects of the history of Dravidian politics figure minimally.

There is a tendency among many Dravidianists today to view Dravidian politics as a seamless teleology from Periyar to M.K. Stalin via Annadurai and Karunanidhi. History does not attest to that. From the point that Annadurai separated from him and until he became the first Dravidian Chief Minister, Periyar treated the DMK as enemy number one and missed no opportunity to mock its politics. It is a testament to the political sagacity of Annadurai that not only did he trounce the powerful Congress and much-loved leaders like Kamaraj, but he also effectively navigated around the attacks by his mentor. And all this despite hailing from a non-elite background, with no inherited socio-economic or political clout.

DMK Chronicles

R. Kannan recounts the glorious days of Dravidian pasts and also dares to visit its grimy corners in his fact-by-fact account in The DMK Years: Ascent, Descent, Survival. The book can be seen as part of a “Dravidian trilogy”, preceded by Kannan’s biographies on Annadurai and M.G. Ramachandran (MGR).

In The DMK Years, Kannan attempts a biography of the DMK party and concurrently provides a panoramic view of Tamil politics post-Independence. He has used an impressive array of primary sources to build his narrative on how the DMK grew from a splinter of the Dravidar Kazhagam (DK) to become a dominant political power in Tamil Nadu. The massive anti-Hindi agitations of the 1960s catapulted the DMK to prominence. But more was at work. The party used grassroots organising, literature, street theatre, agitprop, and of course, cinema to reach to a wide public. The key DMK leaders were great speakers who could command the attention of their audiences, and they also published papers to propagate their views.

Annadurai, like Lenin, recognised the power of cinema as a pedagogic tool. Dravidian cinema produced no Eisenstein or Vertov, who brought innovative techniques to the art. Instead, it was boosted by writers and poets whose dialogues and songs containing explicit or coded pro-Dravidian messages were lapped up by the public. It also invested in and benefited from the stardom of N.S. Krishnan, Sivaji Ganesan, and the charismatic MGR, who attained the status of a demigod as film hero and politician. It must be noted here that Periyar was opposed to cinema and the DMK’s use of the medium.

Annadurai’s DMK wove a rainbow coalition by roping in the conservative Swatantra Party and the CPI(M). Although these parties had been bitterly opposed to the DMK earlier, they were brought together by a set of common, broadly progressive demands against a powerful adversary in the Congress; the post-Marxist theorists Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe would theorise about similar populist strategies much later. The DMK took from the DK a commitment to social justice measures; its firm pro-reservations stand earned the DMK the support of the OBCs and the SCs in Tamil Nadu. Kannan notes that after the DMK took power, “backward, Dalit and rural representation began to grow in government services”.

The DMK Years is not an academic book—Kannan candidly admits as much in his introduction—but it is a book that academics working on Tamil politics cannot ignore, simply because there is no other book in English that captures the story of the DMK from its formation until the present. The DMK suffered four major splits: from E.V.K. Sampath (1961), MGR (1972), V.R. Nedunchezhiyan (1977), and Vaiko (1994). All four were critical of Karunanidhi’s role in the DMK. It could be a coincidence that all these four leaders were from upwardly mobile non-Brahmin castes, while Karunanidhi hailed from a marginal one. MGR’s All India Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (AIADMK), when it captured power in 1977, kept the DMK in opposition until 1989. MGR’s split dealt a body blow to the DMK, but what it also did was push the non-DMK opposition in Tamil Nadu to the margins.

The DMK’s alliances with the parties that formed the government at the Centre were dictated by a combination of principles, tactical compromise, and opportunism. The DMK’s oppositional role during the Emergency has been glorified by its supporters for good reason. But Kannan also draws attention to how this was not straightforward. Karunanidhi was not above using the Maintenance of Internal Security Act to arrest his opponents; he was also eager to prove his patriotic credentials. Yet, he provided sanctuary to political dissidents from other parts of India.

There was an apprehension of centralisation and unbridled repression that compelled him to voice his opposition to the Emergency, leading to his government’s dismissal in 1976. Many DMK leaders were arrested. Stalin was beaten up brutally in jail, and Chittibabu, former Mayor of Chennai, succumbed to his injuries following torture.

In 1977, the DMK aligned with the Janata Party (JP) to defeat the Congress. Soon after, the DMK walked out of the JP alliance and offered its support to Indira Gandhi in 1980, claiming that she alone was capable of providing stable rule. On her part, Indira Gandhi forgot her past fabulous accusations of the DMK’s secessionism, corruption, and its plots to hurt her and vaunted the party as an ally.

This is not a trait of the DMK alone, though. The AIADMK aligned with the Congress in the general election of 1977 and got a thumping victory in the State. In the State Assembly election that year, it was supported by the CPI(M) that turned a blind eye to the alliance between the AIADMK and the party that declared the Emergency. When Morarji Desai became Prime Minister, MGR promptly cosied up to him. In 1980, MGR discovered that the Congress was undemocratic.

The Dravidian parties were similarly flexible in aligning with the BJP. Jayalalithaa’s AIADMK supported the Hindutva party in 1998, not because of any commitment to its principles but, as Kannan claims, because she wanted serious corruption charges against her withdrawn and Karunanidhi’s government dismissed. When this did not happen, she withdrew support. The DMK then backed the BJP because it felt at that time that Jayalalithaa’s corruption was worse than the BJP’s communalism. This uneasy alliance, too, did not last. Other parties in the State, whether centrist, caste-based, Dalit, or leftist, have done similar flip-flops in aligning with the DMK or the AIADMK.

Irrespective of their alliances at the Centre, the Dravidian parties compete with each other on protecting federalism, defending reservations, promoting Tamil rights, and delivering on populist welfare schemes. However, Kannan indicates that in cases of conflict between labour and capital, whichever Dravidian party is in power errs on the side of capital. Both the DMK and the AIADMK are pro-investors. Critics in Tamil Nadu, depending on their political affiliations, tend to focus on the errors of one party while minimising those of the other. Thankfully, Kannan brings that much-maligned word, objectivity, to the table.

The DMK Years was released in September to coincide with the 75th anniversary of the DMK’s founding. But one cannot avoid the feeling that the book was published in a hurry. The copyeditors could have taken more care to avoid errors, some of which are quite glaring. For instance, a subheading on page 5 on “Non-Brahmin Identity and Assertion” has nothing on this theme but instead has trivia on Karunanidhi’s naming of M.K. Stalin and on the number of his Facebook followers. The author claims on page 98 that the “Congress never missed an opportunity to advocate cultural nationalist issues” and follows on page 99 about “Congress’s deep-seated indifference to cultural nationalism”, alleging that it bungled on this front. A table about the 1980 parliamentary election on page 252 shows the DMK as having contested in 16 seats and winning in 48. The index has jumbled up Pasumpon Muthuramalinga Thevar with Pon. Muthuramalingam.

Also Read | DMK at 75: How Karunanidhi’s vision collides with caste realities in modern Dravidian politics

However, both books present valuable information on Dravidian politics. Kannan notes that with the demise of Jayalalithaa and Karunanidhi, the time of mass leaders is over. Stalin’s regime banks more on performance than on personality as the current DMK tries to protect the political and socio-economic achievements of past governments even as it tries to build more effective policies. But it faces vociferous challengers. Currently, the BJP and the Tamil nativist outfit the Naam Tamilar Katchi seek to discredit the whole of the Dravidian movement and overthrow Dravidian rule.

The popular Tamil actor Vijay recently floated the Tamilaga Vettri Kazhagam but does not seem to propose an alternative to Dravidian politics, rather a continuation of it. At the first conference of his party, he declared Periyar as his leader, said that Dravidianism and Tamil nationalism are like his two eyes, and spoke strongly in favour of State autonomy, Tamil rights, and social justice, all part of the Dravidian vocabulary. His party’s flag anthem positions him along with Annadurai and MGR. If he grows, he is likely to take away the non-DMK votes.

While the DMK is criticised by allies for its handling of labour issues, such as the recent Samsung workers’ strike, there is recognition of its value for secular politics at the local and national levels. Principled support and criticism from the Left can guide it to follow reasonable pro-labour policies. The ghosts of Dravidian pasts hold much lessons for Dravidian futures. 

Karthick Ram Manoharan is Assistant Professor of Social Sciences at the National Law School of India University, Bengaluru. He is the author of Periyar: A Study in Political Atheism (Orient BlackSwan, 2022).

Samsung workers’ strike entered its 25th day on October 3, in Kancheepuram.
| Photo Credit: B. VELANKANNI RAJ

The principal demand of the striking workers of Samsung Electronics India Pvt. Ltd in Sriperumbudur, Tamil Nadu, was that their newly formed Samsung India Workers Union (SIWU) should be registered under the Trade Unions Act, 1926. The protest, which lasted more than 30 days, was an epic struggle in more than one way. All leading trade unions in Tamil Nadu extended their support to the workers’ demand, as did unions in other companies.

For the past 17 years, Samsung India has resisted the formation of a trade union. In June 2024, the workers formed the SIWU. They affiliated it to the Centre of Indian Trade Unions (CITU) and applied for the union’s registration under Section 8 of the 1926 Act. Under the Act, the Registrar of Trade Unions, on being satisfied that the application is in order, has no option but to register the union.

Trade Unions Act

The Trade Unions Act is an important piece of legislation. In the early 1920s, workers of Binny Mills in Chennai (then known as Madras) went on strike. The management filed a civil suit claiming huge damages, which the union leaders could ill afford to pay. After the Act came into force, Sections 17 and 18 gave members of a registered trade union immunity from criminal and civil consequences. But for this, workmen would not be able to engage in collective action.

Also Read | Samsung strike: Workers arrested as battle for union recognition continues

The Act enables outsiders and political leaders to be office-bearers of a union. The union can collect funds for the political interests of its members. Many trade unions have been registered in the nearly 100 years since. But Samsung’s objections were mainly two: the use of the name Samsung by the union, and outsiders being a part of the union.

Article 19(1)(c) of the Constitution guarantees the right to form a trade union. The enforcement of this right is also a fundamental right under Article 32 of the Constitution. Despite the statutory provision and the fundamental right under the Constitution, the Samsung management has opposed the formation of a trade union. When, strangely, the Registrar of Trade Unions did not act on SIWU’s application, the union had no other option but to move the Madras High Court seeking a direction to the Registrar to issue a certificate of registration.

The Act is clear, and the prayer before the High Court is also simple. The trade union is the only party that can appear before the Registrar of Trade Unions. The company, however, filed a petition before the Registrar objecting to the use of the name Samsung.

The objection is not only not maintainable but also totally untenable as the union is only asking for the name Samsung India Workers Union to be registered under the Trade Unions Act. It is not a registration under the Trademarks Act, which bars competing businesses from using the name of another company. The registration of the union is a non-monetary demand.

Onus on Samsung

A similar objection was negated by the Karnataka High Court when State Bank of India objected to the use of its name by the employees’ union. Ironically, in South Korea, the Samsung workers’ union is called National Samsung Electronics Union.

The company must reckon with the existence of a trade union and follow the laws of this country, which allow the formation of a trade union and give immunity to union members when they opt for collective action. Had the Registrar registered the trade union, there would have been no need for the workers to go on strike, much less move the court.

The leaders of various trade unions have criticised the company and the State government. Su. Venkatesan, the Communist Party of India (Marxist) MP from Madurai, said that the workers were only protesting for their rights in a democratic way. Pattali Makkal Katchi leader Anbumani Ramadoss condemned the Tamil Nadu government for using oppressive measures against the workers.

The rights of the working class are protected under the law of the land, and in this matter, the State government did not act properly. The Labour Progressive Front (LPF), the trade union wing of the ruling Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK), made it appear as though the SIWU was demanding recognition of the trade union, little understanding the fundamental difference between registration and recognition. As far as registration is concerned, the law is very clear, and the company has hardly any say in the matter. Be it a local industrialist or a multinational company, the law is the same. The DMK union, for reasons best known to it, appears to have been attempting to mislead the working class.

Government’s stand

The question being asked now is regarding the policy of the State government towards workers wanting to form a trade union in a multinational company. The government’s initial stand was that it was principally a matter between the company and the workers. As days passed, the State government did not ascertain whether the company had acted as per the law and unleashed the police on the protesting workers to break the strike. The police tore down the pandals put up for the agitation and also arrested the protesting workers. The government told CITU leaders not to magnify the strike. But the struggle was only for the basic right to form a trade union. The government did little to resolve the issue but issued a unilateral statement that the union had withdrawn the strike with no mention of the government’s stand on the union’s registration. The signs were unmistakable that the government had chosen to back the multinational company.

Also Read | No difference between what is said by Samsung and Tamil Nadu government: E. Muthukumar

To resolve the struggle once and for all, the Tamil Nadu government must ensure that the union is registered.

The governments at the Centre and in the State are not concerned about the constitutional goal to better the living standards of workers, who have been betrayed time and again. Capital and profits are the strong arm of the owning classes. The protection given by the Trade Unions Act for collective struggle helps the working class gain some strength in an unequal relationship. It is here that the State’s role in the Samsung struggle assumes importance.

N.G.R. Prasad and K.K. Ram Siddhartha are advocates in Madras High Court. The former appeared for the petitioner.

When the workers of the Samsung Electronics unit in Sriperumbudur, 40 km from Chennai, went on strike for better wages and improved conditions on September 9, little did they realise that their struggle would evolve into a watershed moment in Tamil Nadu’s labour movement in the post-liberalisation era. When it finally ended on October 16, it had lasted for 38 days, becoming the longest industrial unrest in recent times. The last such prolonged strike was in 2018 at the Royal Enfield factory, which lasted for 50 days.

Also Read | Our main demand is recognition of the union; if that happens, we will call off strike: A. Soundararajan

The strife at the Samsung plant began like any other labour unrest and was confined to the striking workers of the South Korean electronics giant, their families, and supporters. The Centre of Indian Trade Unions (CITU), the labour wing of the Communist Party of India (Marxist), was the lone organisation that supported it in the early stages. However, when the strike showed no signs of ending, various political parties in Tamil Nadu including allies of the ruling party, the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK), jumped in, causing acute embarrassment for the State government.

Major crisis

The issue soon snowballed into a major crisis, and the DMK government feared that it would drive away potential investors who had been promised a hassle-free and peaceful industrial environment and thwart the State’s ambitious mission to transform into a $1 trillion economy by 2030. The DMK was also apprehensive that the strike would raise uncomfortable questions about its “Dravidian model” of development. Pushed to a corner, the DMK government decided that it was in its best interests to “end” the strike as early as possible. It is this haste that led to misunderstanding and friction not only among the workers but also among its allies. It is now clear that when the strike began, little thought had gone into how the government ought to respond in the event of a prolonged stir. In fact, in the initial phases of the strike, the DMK’s labour wing, the Labour Progressive Federation (LPF), had supported the CITU and the striking workers.

As the strike prolonged, the State government finally sent its Ministers as envoys. However, the first tripartite meeting, led by a committee of three Ministers—T.R.B. Rajaa (Industries), T.M. Anbarasan (Micro, Small & Medium Enterprises, or MSME), and C.V. Ganesan (Labour)—failed to break the logjam, and at this point, the LPF quietly withdrew its support. LPF general secretary M. Shanmugam even accused the CITU of “blowing out of proportion the demands of workers and refusing to put an end [to the strike]”.

It was clear that the ministerial committee had handled the issue clumsily. Having wrangled some guarantees from the Samsung management, including for better wages and amenities, the government prematurely declared that the strike had ended. But the CITU and the striking workers had rejected the deal. Their main demand was that the CITU-backed Samsung India Workers Union (SIWU) be registered, but the company objected to this, claiming that its main concern was the union having Samsung in its name.

Government missteps

At this time, the State government made its second mistake. It sent the police to intimidate the workers, dismantled the tent at the protest site, and even arrested a few workers. This added fuel to the fire and led to the allegation that the government was acting in cahoots with the company. Following this, CITU leader A. Soundararajan warned that there might be some “serious political ramifications”. He said: “The government seems to have apprehensions that the Samsung strike might spread to other industrial units.” The CITU refused to buckle under pressure, political or non-political, and the Samsung workers, too, remained united and strong.

For Chief Minister M.K. Stalin, the strike had now become a political hot potato. On the one hand, he wanted to please the multinational and send out the signal that the environment in Tamil Nadu was investment-friendly. On the other, not only had his allies gone against him, his own party’s image of fighting for workers’ rights was under attack.

Drawing flak from multiple quarters, he ordered a second tripartite meeting with a rehashed committee. The MSME Minister was replaced by Public Works Minister E.V. Velu. This time, an agreement was reached with the understanding that the demands of the workers that would be officially finalised would include registration of the union, improved wages and working conditions, and a commitment that no retributory action would be taken. A visibly relieved Stalin took to X to express happiness.

Legal challenge

Meanwhile, the writ petition filed in the Madras High Court by P. Ellan, general secretary of the newly formed SIWU, seeking registration came up for hearing. Samsung filed a petition to implead itself in the case. In its representation, the company objected to the use of the word “Samsung” in the labour union’s name, which it claimed would affect the “company’s reputation”. Its counsel G. Rajagopalan also claimed that the company had incurred a loss of around $100 million as a result of the strike.

Also Read | Samsung strike: Workers arrested as battle for union recognition continues

The senior lawyer N.G.R. Prasad, appearing for the petitioner, told the court that this was not a trademark dispute. “We are not rivals in their business,” he said. He pointed out that the writ was confined to the trade union and its registration, and the Trade Unions Act, 1926, did not prohibit the use of a company’s name. The case has been adjourned to November 11.

The Samsung strike appears to have reignited the labour union movement in Tamil Nadu and rekindled the hopes of the working class that they will be able to fight against exploitation. Politically, the CPI(M) appears to have decided to identify itself closely with labour issues once again.

In today’s exploitative neoliberal environment, marked by widespread uncertainty affecting skilled and unskilled workers, both organised and unorganised, and with the rise of artificial intelligence posing a new challenge to labour, trade unions face an uphill battle. They must work harder than ever to safeguard both industrialisation and the rights of workers.

While the unrest has been sorted out for the time being, there is still speculation about how similar issues will play out in future and whether the State government, as the nodal agency of mediation, will stand by workers.

The appointment of Shubhankar Sarkar, former secretary of the All India Congress Committee, as the new president of the West Bengal Pradesh Congress Committee (WBPCC) has come as a major surprise in Bengal. This move, replacing five-time Lok Sabha MP Adhir Ranjan Chowdhury, has left a sizeable section of the State’s top Congress leadership frowning. The change is perceived as the Congress high command’s friendly overture to Trinamool Congress, replacing one of the ruling party’s strongest critics with a more moderate voice.

Chowdhury had tendered his resignation after the 2024 Lok Sabha election, where the Communist Party of India (Marxist)-led Left Front-Congress combine won only one seat. Chowdhury himself lost the Baharampur seat, which he had held consecutively since 1999. On September 21, AICC general secretary K.C. Venugopal announced: “Hon’ble Congress President has appointed Shri Subhankar Sarkar as the President of the West Bengal Pradesh Congress Committee with immediate effect. He has been relieved from his current position as AICC Secretary. The party appreciates the contributions of the outgoing PCC President, Shri Adhir Ranjan Chowdhury.”

Responding to his replacement, Chowdhury stated, “It is customary for the party president to offer to step down after a bad election result. When we didn’t get the expected outcome in the 2024 Lok Sabha election, I informed the AICC of my wish to resign. They neither asked me to reconsider nor assigned me any other role, so I continued my work as before, speaking out against the Trinamool government’s misrule in West Bengal. The high command has now taken its own decision.”

Also Read | Welfare wins in West Bengal

Chowdhury has been relentless in his criticism of Trinamool. Prior to the 2024 Lok Sabha election, Trinamool blamed him for the failure of the Indian National Developmental Inclusive Alliance (INDIA) – comprising the Congress, Trinamool, and the Left–to effectively challenge the Bharatiya Janata Party-led National Democratic Alliance (NDA) in West Bengal. Political observers believe that following INDIA’s defeat, the Congress central leadership is attempting to strengthen ties with state powers like Trinamool that oppose the BJP.

Restore relations with Trinamool

Psephologist Biswanath Chakraborty views Chowdhury’s replacement by Sarkar as a calculated strategy, facilitated by Chowdhury’s resignation offer. “Appointing Shubhankar as president is a peace offering to Trinamool, aiming for a minimal understanding between the parties. He’s known to be conciliatory towards Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee and open to dialogue with Trinamool,” Chakraborty said. However, he noted that Sarkar lacks mass appeal and organisational skills, potentially further demoralising Congress party workers. “He seems chosen solely to mend ties with Trinamool. By making Sarkar president, the AICC has sacrificed the Bengal Congress to maintain good relations with Trinamool,” Chakraborty added, also pointing out that Chowdhury received insufficient support from the central leadership during the election.

Addressing the media after assuming his post, Sarkar said, “For me, Trinamool is a political party. If it functions democratically, I won’t needlessly oppose it… We’ve long been with the Left, and I’ve campaigned with their senior leadership. I wasn’t made president to declare we’re no longer with the Left but with Trinamool, or neither; I was made president to strengthen the Congress party… I want to work with the people and understand their thoughts… So far, we’ve fought elections with the Left as our ally; both the Left and Trinamool are partners in the INDI Alliance.”

Former WBPCC president Pradip Bhattacharya told Frontline that while it’s premature to predict future developments, he’s optimistic about the new president’s potential to revitalise the party. “He’s assured me and other senior leaders that he’ll consult us before making any political decisions. I responded that this approach is ideal, and we can’t ignore the ground realities in West Bengal under Trinamool rule,” Bhattacharya said.

Debaprasad Roy, a prominent Congress leader from north Bengal, pointed out the potential advantages in Sarkar’s leadership. “Shubhankar isn’t aligned with any faction within the Pradesh Congress, which likely gave him an edge over other contenders. As he doesn’t appear to be a dominating leader, he’s expected to provide collective leadership, which has been missing,” Roy told Frontline.

Dissatisfied party workers

While WBPCC leaders have been cautious in their official statements about the leadership change, many have privately expressed reservations. A senior Congress leader told Frontline, “We’re certainly not happy about this appointment. Sarkar has never been a leader of stature deserving this post. His strength lies in aligning with influential AICC lobbies. The fact that he was made West Bengal chief within a month of being appointed Indian National Congress state-in-charge of Arunachal Pradesh, Meghalaya, and Mizoram speaks for itself. I’m unsure how many will be willing to follow him.”

Veteran political observer Biswajit Bhattacharya feels Sarkar’s lack of organisational experience doesn’t bode well for the Congress. “Staging a political turnaround requires organisational abilities, which Sarkar hasn’t demonstrated. Even as a student leader, he wasn’t at the forefront of any major movement. He’s unlikely to build the party infrastructure that Congress desperately needs now, something a leader like Amitabha Chakraborty might be better at,” Bhattacharya told Frontline.

WBPCC leaders and workers are also baffled at the timing of the move. The ruling Trinamool is perhaps at its most vulnerable now, in the aftermath of the R.G. Kar rape and murder case. Many believe that a stronger leader with a direct connect with the masses and party workers is what the Congress needs now.

A senior party leader said: “Adhir Chowdhury may have had his faults, but he was a strong leader who never pulled his punches when it came to the Trinamool; but Sarkar is neither a strong leader, nor is he a powerful, critical voice that can be used against the ruling party. This was the time for us to gain some political ground, but that is not likely to happen under Sarkar. His appointment looks like a gesture of appeasement by our central leadership to Mamata, as if assuring her that the Congress is behind the Trinamool in its fight against the BJP in the State.”

He also pointed out that the party, while accepting Chowdhury’s resignation in June, had not installed anyone until September 21 as WBPCC president. “The election results were declared on June 4, and Chowdhury sent his resignation letter on June 9. It would still have been understandable if Sarkar was made WBPCC president at that time. But it makes no sense to place someone like him at the helm now, when the party can use a leader who can put further pressure on an already cornered Trinamool,” said the WBPCC leader.

Furthermore, Sarkar faces the challenge of filling the shoes of an iconic leader like Adhir Chowdhury. Long considered the tallest Congress leader in Bengal, Chowdhury had managed to defend Baharampur – one of the last Congress bastions – against both CPI(M) and Trinamool’s aggressive attempts to capture it. Despite being a charismatic leader with a mass following, Chowdhury failed to reverse the Congress’s declining fortunes in the state. His uncompromising attitude towards political opponents often extended to his own party members, with many WBPCC leaders resenting his autocratic style.

Also Read | Adhir Ranjan Chowdhury: ‘West Bengal Congress’ priority is to gain strength to survive and restore lost ground’

Moreover, party rank and file felt Chowdhury was an “absent” president, who, when not in Delhi, was mostly in his Baharampur constituency in Murshidabad. A Congress leader noted, “Neither the workers nor the people of the state saw Adhir Chowdhury providing leadership to the Congress. His time in Bengal was spent in Murshidabad, as if the Murshidabad District Congress office had an extension in Kolkata.”

Electoral success not equivalent to leadership qualities

Chowdhury’s two stints as WBPCC president–2014-2018 and 2020-2024–did little to stem the party’s downward slide. A Congress source commented, “Adhir is the lone Congress leader to have repeatedly won against two different ruling parties, but electoral success doesn’t necessarily equate to great leadership… In Bengal, under his leadership, Congress managed less than 2,000 seats out of 70,000 odd gram panchayats and panchayat samities. We couldn’t secure a single Assembly seat, and our Lok Sabha tally dropped to one.” According to him, this doesn’t reflect well on his leadership. His biggest failure is that Congress lost its visibility in the state and is barely considered an Opposition party. Where is Congress in the movement following the rape and murder case at R G Kar? People only see the BJP and the Left.”

In the 2016 Assembly election, Congress, allied with the Left, won 44 of its 92 contested seats, while the CPI(M) won only 26 out of 148. But the Congress rapidly lost ground thereafter. In the 2019 Lok Sabha election, its tally fell from four to two. In the 2021 Assembly polls, despite contesting 91 seats in alliance with the Left, it failed to win any. The 2024 Lok Sabha election saw it win just one seat, with Chowdhury losing his long-held Baharampur seat to former cricketer Yusuf Pathan.

As the Pradesh Congress cautiously enters a new era, its old rival-turned-ally, the Bengal unit of CPI(M), will closely monitor developments. Sujan Chakraborty, senior leader and CPI(M) Central Committee member, told Frontline, “Both CPI(M) and Congress were part of the collective initiative against the BJP at the Centre, agreeing to defeat both BJP and Trinamool in West Bengal. Congress has bitter experiences with Trinamool, whose rise to power in 2011 was facilitated by Congress support, only for Trinamool to subsequently try to destroy it. Congress workers and supporters know this. I hope under the new leadership, Congress will heed its supporters’ and workers’ demands.”