The intimation of a Narendra Modi-led Bharatiya Janata Party sweep of Uttar Pradesh came to me two days before Varanasi went to polls. I was driving around the city in a cab a journalist-friend had hired from Lucknow. I asked the cab driver who he had voted for. He said he wasn’t on the electoral list in Lucknow, but revealed that he had travelled all the way to his village in western UP to press the button on the lotus symbol, before returning to work the following day. “I didn’t even know the name of the BJP candidate," he said. "I voted for Narendra Modi."
In that moment was revealed to me the depth of popular passion for Modi. “Don’t be surprised if the BJP crosses 50 seats in UP,” I told my friend. The party scaled even greater heights, bagging all of the state’s 80 seats but for the seven the Gandhi and the Yadav dynasties managed to win (quite miraculously, in hindsight).
Indeed, political parties need the passion our cab-driver displayed to turn a battle of ballot into what psephologists call a realigning election. It’s a term that refers to the volatile movement of social plates, the severing of past political loyalties, and the casting aside of ideological shackles binding people to outfits for which they had voted for years.
A complicated set of factors, or ideas, trigger this tectonic shift of social plates, for a realigning election is a little more about voting out a party from power. It is about giving a competing formation a decisive mandate, or turning a rank outsider into viable contender. No doubt, the pocket-burning inflation, the slowing economic growth, and shocking scams had made it inevitable for the Congress to receive a battering. These factors created an enabling environment for another formation to replace the United Progressive Alliance in power.
The BJP, in Uttar Pradesh, exploited the enabling environment to maximise its gains through the trifecta of religious polarisation, caste identity and the promise of development. It wouldn't be wrong to say that the politics of religion and caste comprised the cake, while development was the cherry on top. The cherry was an argument, or a pretext, provided to the millions to overcome the qualms, as is inevitably felt, in forgetting old loyalties and embracing, to a degree, a divisive politics.
Muzaffarnagar effect
Over the next few years, books will be written on how the Uttar Pradesh elections were impacted by the Muzaffarnagar riots in August and September. Suffice it to say that it snapped the decades-old relationship between Muslims and Jats, a relationship which, politically at least, had anyway become frayed because of Mandir-Mandal politics. Excluded from the OBC list of reservations, the Jats in the '90s tended to vote the BJP, which the Muslims perceived as their bête noir. These riots made it impossible to bridge any attempt to bridge that divide.
The hostility between Jats and Muslims yielded rich electoral dividends for the BJP because the party immediately projected the local riot as a broader battle between Hindus and Muslims. This narrative acquired immediate resonance because the UP government’s decision to disallow the Vishwa Hindu Parishad’s 84 Kosi Parikrama Yatra in August had already been portrayed as an attempt by the Samajwadi Party administration to endear itself to Muslims. The incident that ignited the communal fire in Muzaffarnagar – the killing of two Jats boys – occurred soon after.
It was easy for the BJP to persuade the Jats, as also other non-Muslim social groups, that they had been discriminated against not because they were Jats, but because they were Hindus. Indeed, the Samajwadi Party government of Akhilesh Yadav was perceived to have played a partisan role. For instance, it let off the Muslims who were accused of fomenting violence, but did not, in the initial days of riots, release Jats detained for the same crime.
The narrative of the riots were constructed through two insidious methods. For one, a video was loaded online showing two people being beaten mercilessly by a Muslim mob. It was claimed the victims were Jats. The truth, though, was different – the footage was of a mob assaulting two youths in Pakistan. The video’s impact was widespread. I bumped into a CID inspector in Kanpur who told me, “Even you will be anguished on viewing the video.”
The caste identity of Jats was consequently merged into the larger Hindu identity, and the violence against the Jats was projected as an attack on all Hindus. The BJP portrayed itself as the only party willing to fight the injustices suffered by Hindus. This it did by organising a ceremony in Agra to felicitate the Jats who were accused in the riots. Hours later, Narendra Modi addressed the rally.
In hindsight, it doesn’t seem surprising why the BJP changed the tenor of its campaign in the week before western UP went to the polls on April 10. It switched from emphasising development to raising such issues as demanding a ban on beef exports. Close to the date of polling in central UP, the BJP and Modi brought up the idea of building a Ram Temple at Ayodhya, speaking from a rostrum with the figure of Bhagwan Ram looming behind.
The failure of Mandal politics
Over the last 25 years, the politics of caste in UP has been the bulwark against that of religion. Many analysts thought both Mulayam Singh Yadav's Samajwadi Party and Mayawati's Bahujan Samaj Party would check the BJP tide. But they didn’t factor in the sheer poverty of the imaginations of these two politicians. Not only had they reduced the idea of social justice to crass caste politics, they even failed to reinvent themselves or their ideas in a rapidly changing India.
On my several trips to UP, I could sense the deep sense of alienation among Mulayam's non-Yadav OBC supporters and Mayawati's non-Jatav dalit followers. They felt the two leaders had betrayed them, soliciting their votes but favouring Yadavs and Jatavs, that they were more interested in promoting their families and making money. As Ashok Das, editor of Dalit Dastak, said, “When Lalu or Mulayam come to power, at least the Yadavs feel their government is in power. The Dalits don’t feel the same when Mayawati comes to power.”
Several Dalit activists pointed to the inherent irony of Mayawati speaking of a Bahuhan Samaj but giving party tickets to Brahmins, of her gradual distancing from her supporters, choosing to address massive rallies than holding AAP-style nukkad sabhas, and her disdain for intellectuals who could contribute immensely to the party. Dalits politics, as they said, can’t just be about electoral politics, but must extend to the realm of culture and society.
In this discontent among subaltern groups, Modi’s OBC identity became an irresistible lure for many. Since their attachment to community leaders had loosened, and they found no personal gain from repeatedly voting for them, they were willing to rally behind an OBC leader whose party was willing to project him as its prime ministerial candidate.
More significantly, to them, Modi appeared extremely popular among all sections of the Hindu society, upper castes included, hailed for his development rhetoric, boasting the support of English-speaking media personalities and corporate gurus, and promising to satisfy their economic aspirations. For them, Modi’s lure wasn’t merely that he could provide employment, but also that the mass adulation for him had enhanced their esteem.
Again, it doesn’t seem surprising now why Modi began to vociferously harp on his OBC identity a little before eastern UP went to polls. This is the region in which the BJP couldn’t make much headway during the Mandal-Mandir era. By flaunting his OBC identity, he managed to attract OBCs who thus far have not been BJP voters. As religious consolidation blunted the sharp edge of jaati, Modi’s caste identity provided a reason for UP’s OBCs to overcome their loyalties to their local leaders. In return, the benefits of development awaited.
Obviously, social engineering often produces its own contradictions. Will the BJP manage to walk the tightrope between its traditional Brahminical moorings and its relatively new fervour for the OBCs? Though too early to tell, the puja Modi conducted at Varanasi’s Kashi Vishwanath temple on May 17 had an inherent political symbolism – that the politics of caste and development will be sewn through the saffron thread of Hindutva.
In that moment was revealed to me the depth of popular passion for Modi. “Don’t be surprised if the BJP crosses 50 seats in UP,” I told my friend. The party scaled even greater heights, bagging all of the state’s 80 seats but for the seven the Gandhi and the Yadav dynasties managed to win (quite miraculously, in hindsight).
Indeed, political parties need the passion our cab-driver displayed to turn a battle of ballot into what psephologists call a realigning election. It’s a term that refers to the volatile movement of social plates, the severing of past political loyalties, and the casting aside of ideological shackles binding people to outfits for which they had voted for years.
A complicated set of factors, or ideas, trigger this tectonic shift of social plates, for a realigning election is a little more about voting out a party from power. It is about giving a competing formation a decisive mandate, or turning a rank outsider into viable contender. No doubt, the pocket-burning inflation, the slowing economic growth, and shocking scams had made it inevitable for the Congress to receive a battering. These factors created an enabling environment for another formation to replace the United Progressive Alliance in power.
The BJP, in Uttar Pradesh, exploited the enabling environment to maximise its gains through the trifecta of religious polarisation, caste identity and the promise of development. It wouldn't be wrong to say that the politics of religion and caste comprised the cake, while development was the cherry on top. The cherry was an argument, or a pretext, provided to the millions to overcome the qualms, as is inevitably felt, in forgetting old loyalties and embracing, to a degree, a divisive politics.
Muzaffarnagar effect
Over the next few years, books will be written on how the Uttar Pradesh elections were impacted by the Muzaffarnagar riots in August and September. Suffice it to say that it snapped the decades-old relationship between Muslims and Jats, a relationship which, politically at least, had anyway become frayed because of Mandir-Mandal politics. Excluded from the OBC list of reservations, the Jats in the '90s tended to vote the BJP, which the Muslims perceived as their bête noir. These riots made it impossible to bridge any attempt to bridge that divide.
The hostility between Jats and Muslims yielded rich electoral dividends for the BJP because the party immediately projected the local riot as a broader battle between Hindus and Muslims. This narrative acquired immediate resonance because the UP government’s decision to disallow the Vishwa Hindu Parishad’s 84 Kosi Parikrama Yatra in August had already been portrayed as an attempt by the Samajwadi Party administration to endear itself to Muslims. The incident that ignited the communal fire in Muzaffarnagar – the killing of two Jats boys – occurred soon after.
It was easy for the BJP to persuade the Jats, as also other non-Muslim social groups, that they had been discriminated against not because they were Jats, but because they were Hindus. Indeed, the Samajwadi Party government of Akhilesh Yadav was perceived to have played a partisan role. For instance, it let off the Muslims who were accused of fomenting violence, but did not, in the initial days of riots, release Jats detained for the same crime.
The narrative of the riots were constructed through two insidious methods. For one, a video was loaded online showing two people being beaten mercilessly by a Muslim mob. It was claimed the victims were Jats. The truth, though, was different – the footage was of a mob assaulting two youths in Pakistan. The video’s impact was widespread. I bumped into a CID inspector in Kanpur who told me, “Even you will be anguished on viewing the video.”
The caste identity of Jats was consequently merged into the larger Hindu identity, and the violence against the Jats was projected as an attack on all Hindus. The BJP portrayed itself as the only party willing to fight the injustices suffered by Hindus. This it did by organising a ceremony in Agra to felicitate the Jats who were accused in the riots. Hours later, Narendra Modi addressed the rally.
In hindsight, it doesn’t seem surprising why the BJP changed the tenor of its campaign in the week before western UP went to the polls on April 10. It switched from emphasising development to raising such issues as demanding a ban on beef exports. Close to the date of polling in central UP, the BJP and Modi brought up the idea of building a Ram Temple at Ayodhya, speaking from a rostrum with the figure of Bhagwan Ram looming behind.
The failure of Mandal politics
Over the last 25 years, the politics of caste in UP has been the bulwark against that of religion. Many analysts thought both Mulayam Singh Yadav's Samajwadi Party and Mayawati's Bahujan Samaj Party would check the BJP tide. But they didn’t factor in the sheer poverty of the imaginations of these two politicians. Not only had they reduced the idea of social justice to crass caste politics, they even failed to reinvent themselves or their ideas in a rapidly changing India.
On my several trips to UP, I could sense the deep sense of alienation among Mulayam's non-Yadav OBC supporters and Mayawati's non-Jatav dalit followers. They felt the two leaders had betrayed them, soliciting their votes but favouring Yadavs and Jatavs, that they were more interested in promoting their families and making money. As Ashok Das, editor of Dalit Dastak, said, “When Lalu or Mulayam come to power, at least the Yadavs feel their government is in power. The Dalits don’t feel the same when Mayawati comes to power.”
Several Dalit activists pointed to the inherent irony of Mayawati speaking of a Bahuhan Samaj but giving party tickets to Brahmins, of her gradual distancing from her supporters, choosing to address massive rallies than holding AAP-style nukkad sabhas, and her disdain for intellectuals who could contribute immensely to the party. Dalits politics, as they said, can’t just be about electoral politics, but must extend to the realm of culture and society.
In this discontent among subaltern groups, Modi’s OBC identity became an irresistible lure for many. Since their attachment to community leaders had loosened, and they found no personal gain from repeatedly voting for them, they were willing to rally behind an OBC leader whose party was willing to project him as its prime ministerial candidate.
More significantly, to them, Modi appeared extremely popular among all sections of the Hindu society, upper castes included, hailed for his development rhetoric, boasting the support of English-speaking media personalities and corporate gurus, and promising to satisfy their economic aspirations. For them, Modi’s lure wasn’t merely that he could provide employment, but also that the mass adulation for him had enhanced their esteem.
Again, it doesn’t seem surprising now why Modi began to vociferously harp on his OBC identity a little before eastern UP went to polls. This is the region in which the BJP couldn’t make much headway during the Mandal-Mandir era. By flaunting his OBC identity, he managed to attract OBCs who thus far have not been BJP voters. As religious consolidation blunted the sharp edge of jaati, Modi’s caste identity provided a reason for UP’s OBCs to overcome their loyalties to their local leaders. In return, the benefits of development awaited.
Obviously, social engineering often produces its own contradictions. Will the BJP manage to walk the tightrope between its traditional Brahminical moorings and its relatively new fervour for the OBCs? Though too early to tell, the puja Modi conducted at Varanasi’s Kashi Vishwanath temple on May 17 had an inherent political symbolism – that the politics of caste and development will be sewn through the saffron thread of Hindutva.
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