Bengali Pride vs National Identity: Will Mamata Banerjee’s regional politics withstand BJP’s nationalist surge in 2026
A political storm is gathering over West Bengal, one that could shape the state’s future in the run-up to the 2026 Assembly elections. The spark this time is the Trinamool Congress’s renewed push to stoke “Bengali pride” amidst allegations of harassment of Bengali-speaking workers in BJP-ruled states.
West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee, sensing a potent emotive chord, has urged her party cadres to turn this into a movement. But can this regionalist narrative survive the BJP’s aggressive pitch of national unity and security?
West Bengal has always been an anomaly on India’s political map, often compared to the stubborn Gaulish village in Rene Goscinny’s Asterix series. Since 1977, the state has largely been ruled by parties at odds with the Centre. From the CPI(M)’s 34-year rule to Mamata’s decade-long dominance, Kolkata’s corridors of power have rarely looked to Delhi with warmth. The occasional camaraderie with the Union government has been fleeting at best. But this equation is poised for a dramatic shift as the BJP, which already made significant inroads during the 2019 Lok Sabha elections, eyes 2026 as the year to break TMC’s stranglehold.
TMC’s “Bengali Pride” gambit
Mamata’s strategy is clear: Frame the upcoming battle as one between Bengali identity and “outsider” forces. Her protests over the detention of Bengali-speaking migrants in Assam and other BJP-ruled states are part of this narrative. By projecting herself as the custodian of Bengali pride, she hopes to consolidate the bhadralok middle class and rural electorate alike.
However, the BJP is not biting the bait. Suvendu Adhikari, Mamata’s one-time confidant turned archrival, has hit back hard. His statements that the TMC is using the issue to deflect from rampant corruption, law-and-order breakdowns, and the administration’s failures has struck a chord. He has further said that the TMC is deliberately harboring “Bengali-speaking Rohingya” to build a communal vote bank, framing the debate not as one of cultural pride but of national security and demographic change.
Assam, immigration, and a shared fault line
The controversy intersects sharply with the situation in neighboring Assam. Mamata has pointed to the Assam government’s notices to residents of Cooch Behar, portraying it as an attack on Bengalis. Assam CM Himanta Biswa Sarma’s counter, however, reframes the debate: It is not about Bengalis but about the alarming demographic shift caused by decades of unchecked illegal immigration. His statement that “Assamese Hindus are becoming a hopeless minority in their land” underlines the BJP’s broader narrative that this is not about language but the survival of indigenous folks and Hindu identity of the state.
Assam’s history makes this a potent issue. The anti-immigrant movement of 1979-1985, culminating in the Assam Accord, was not just a political agitation but a cultural uprising. The National Register of Citizens (NRC) process, born out of this movement, has always been contentious. The TMC’s opposition to the NRC branding it as anti-Bengali is consistent with Mamata’s present stance. But the BJP is turning this argument on its head, pointing out that the real victims of illegal immigration are indigenous Hindus and Assamese culture, not Bengalis per se.
Demographics and the silent shift
Census numbers add fuel to the fire. Between 2001 and 2011, Assamese speakers grew by 16%, yet their share in Assam’s population fell. Bengali speakers, in contrast, expanded nearly 23%, gaining a larger share. In West Bengal, the situation is even more complex. Border districts like Malda, Murshidabad, and North 24 Parganas have seen rapid demographic changes. The BJP has repeatedly accused the TMC of appeasing minorities, nearly 40% of the state’s electorate, by some estimates, at the cost of national interest.
The problem is not merely electoral but civilizational. Partition and the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War created a legitimate influx of Hindu refugees. But decades of porous borders and political complicity have also enabled large-scale illegal immigration. Identifying infiltrators is complicated by shared language and culture, but for the BJP, the issue is not linguistic; it is about protecting the nation’s security and cultural balance.
Language as identity and as a political tool
The TMC’s play on language is calculated. Bengali, as both a cultural and linguistic identity, evokes strong emotions. But even language has its nuances. Linguists like Suniti Kumar Chatterji have shown the stark differences between Indian and Bangladeshi Bengali in vocabulary, pronunciation, and cultural references. To the trained ear, the diction of a first-generation immigrant stands out. But such fine distinctions are of little interest to political expediency. Mamata’s campaign seeks to blur these lines, presenting any action against suspected infiltrators as an attack on Bengali identity itself.
The BJP, meanwhile, is framing the issue differently, that true Bengali pride lies in protecting the culture from demographic invasion, not in sheltering illegal immigrants. This positions the party as both nationalist and protector of indigenous identity, turning Mamata’s emotional card against her.
2026: A clash of civilizations?
As West Bengal heads into 2026, the battle lines are drawn around more than just votes. This is shaping up to be a clash between two visions of identity. The TMC is betting on sub-nationalism, a Bengali exceptionalism that has historically resisted Delhi’s influence. The BJP is countering with an all-encompassing nationalism that seeks to integrate Bengal into the larger Hindutva narrative while addressing real demographic anxieties.
For the bhadralok, traditionally skeptical of the BJP, this creates a moral dilemma. Can cultural pride be separated from national interest? Can Bengali identity thrive if the state’s borders are porous and demographic realities change irreversibly? These are not abstract questions anymore; they are lived realities in border villages, in the shifting linguistic maps, and in the uneasy coexistence of communities.
The road ahead
Mamata’s strategy may rally her base, but it risks alienating a growing section of voters who see through the politics of appeasement. Suvendu Adhikari and the BJP are poised to capitalize on these fault lines, especially in northern and border districts. The simultaneous elections in Assam only amplify the issue, ensuring that illegal immigration and national security dominate the discourse.
In the end, the 2026 West Bengal elections may well be a referendum on the very idea of identity. Will it be defined narrowly by language and sub-national pride or broadly by civilizational and national consciousness? The answer will not just decide the fate of Mamata Banerjee or the BJP in Bengal; it will speak to the larger story of India’s unity and diversity in the face of complex demographic and cultural challenges.
One thing is certain, the tiny “Gaulish village” of India’s political map is heading for its most consequential battle yet, and the outcome will echo far beyond the borders of Bengal.
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