Class, Culture And Politics: The Making And Unmaking Of Mamata Banerjee – OpEd

How West Bengal’s most successful subaltern insurgency transformed into the very political order it once sought to overthrow

In modern Indian politics, few leaders have embodied the aspirations of the marginalized as powerfully as Mamata Banerjee. Her ascent from the crowded lanes of south Kolkata to the office of Chief Minister represented one of the most remarkable acts of political self-fashioning in postcolonial India. For millions of Bengalis, she was not merely another politician. She was the living embodiment of resistance against an entrenched political aristocracy.

Yet the story of Mamata Banerjee is also the story of how insurgent politics can become institutional power, and how movements born from popular grievances can gradually reproduce the structures they once opposed. Her political trajectory reveals not simply the rise and decline of an individual leader, but the deeper contradictions of populism, identity politics, and regional nationalism in contemporary India.

The Revolt Against the Bhadralok Order

To understand Mamata Banerjee’s rise, one must first understand Bengal’s peculiar class structure.

For much of the twentieth century, Bengal’s politics was dominated by the ‘bhadralok’—the educated, urban, upper-caste middle classes who claimed cultural authority over society. Whether under Congress rule or the thirty-four-year dominance of the Communist Party of India (Marxist), political power remained concentrated among educated elites who spoke the language of ideology, literature, and intellectual refinement.

Banerjee represented a profound rupture with that tradition.

Born into a lower-middle-class family and shaped by economic hardship after the death of her father, she entered politics without inherited privilege, dynastic backing, or elite patronage. Unlike many prominent regional leaders who emerged under powerful mentors, Banerjee built her career through decades of street-level activism and political struggle. Her social background gave authenticity to her identification with the poor and vulnerable, creating an emotional bond with ordinary Bengalis that elite politicians could rarely achieve. 

Her famous simplicity—the white cotton sari, rubber slippers, and austere lifestyle—was not merely political theatre. It functioned as a symbolic rejection of the cultural codes of Bengal’s elite classes. In Pierre Bourdieu’s terms, Banerjee challenged the monopoly of cultural capital exercised by the ‘bhadralok’.

When she launched the All India Trinamool Congress in 1998, she transformed this symbolic rebellion into a mass political movement. The party’s very name—”Trinamool,” meaning grassroots—announced its claim to represent those excluded from established centres of power. What emerged was a subaltern revolt against both the bureaucratic rigidity of the Left Front and the declining relevance of the Congress.

Culture as Counter-Hegemony

Banerjee’s political genius lay not only in class mobilisation but also in her ability to construct a powerful cultural narrative.

Drawing upon Bengal’s literary, artistic, and historical traditions, she fashioned herself as the authentic daughter of Bengal. Her political language was rooted in Bengali cultural memory rather than abstract ideological discourse. She celebrated local icons, invoked folk traditions, and deployed a distinctly Bengali emotional vocabulary that resonated across class lines.

The slogan ‘Maa-Maati-Manush’—Mother, Motherland, Humanity—became the ideological cornerstone of her movement. It offered a moral and cultural alternative to the increasingly technocratic language of the Left Front.

Antonio Gramsci’s concept of cultural hegemony helps explain her success. The Left had governed West Bengal for decades not merely through electoral victories but through cultural dominance. Banerjee challenged that dominance by constructing a rival common sense rooted in regional identity, emotional authenticity, and popular grievance.

Her campaign against land acquisition in Singur and Nandigram became the decisive moment of this counter-hegemonic project. She successfully portrayed the Left government as detached from ordinary people and aligned with corporate interests. In doing so, she transformed local protests into a statewide movement for political change.

The result was historic. In 2011, the seemingly invincible Left Front was defeated, ending one of the longest-running elected leftist governments in world history.

From Movement to Machine

Yet political victories often contain the seeds of future crises.

Once in power, the Trinamool Congress faced a dilemma common to many populist movements. How does a party built around opposition govern effectively after capturing the state?

The answer increasingly took the form of centralization.

Banerjee’s personal authority, once an asset during years of struggle, became the organising principle of governance itself. Decision-making became concentrated around a highly personalised leadership structure. The movement that had promised grassroots empowerment gradually evolved into a political machine dependent upon loyalty, patronage, and administrative control.

This transformation reflected a broader contradiction within populist politics. Because populist movements frequently define themselves through charismatic leadership rather than strong institutions, they often struggle to build democratic structures once they attain power.

The consequences became increasingly visible. Allegations surrounding “cut money,” local syndicates, and patronage networks damaged the moral legitimacy that had originally distinguished Banerjee from her predecessors. For many working-class supporters, the promise of empowerment appeared to be replaced by new forms of dependency.

Economic frustrations compounded these problems. While Banerjee remained electorally formidable, West Bengal struggled to regain its historical position as an industrial and manufacturing centre. Job creation failed to match the aspirations of a younger generation increasingly exposed to opportunities elsewhere in India.

The result was a growing disconnect between symbolic politics and material realities.

The Limits of Identity Politics

Perhaps the most important lesson of Mamata Banerjee’s political journey concerns the limits of identity-based mobilisation.

For much of the past decade, the Trinamool Congress successfully framed itself as the defender of Bengal against external political forces, particularly the BJP. Regional identity became a powerful electoral resource.

Initially, this strategy proved highly effective. The portrayal of the BJP as an “outsider” force threatening Bengal’s cultural distinctiveness resonated with large sections of the electorate.

However, identity politics can only remain effective when it is linked to tangible social and economic outcomes.

As unemployment, corruption allegations, and governance controversies accumulated, cultural symbolism increasingly lost its persuasive power. The BJP adapted by appropriating local cultural symbols, celebrating Bengali icons, and presenting itself as a legitimate participant in Bengal’s political life.

In other words, the cultural terrain that Banerjee had once dominated became contested.

The crisis reveals a fundamental weakness of contemporary populism. Identity can mobilise voters, but it cannot indefinitely substitute for economic transformation. Cultural recognition matters, but so do jobs, institutions, public services, and accountable governance.

The Unmaking of a Political Myth

Mamata Banerjee remains one of the most consequential regional leaders in contemporary India. Her achievements are substantial. She dismantled a seemingly permanent political order, expanded the representation of marginalized voices, and reshaped Bengal’s political landscape.

Yet her decline illustrates a recurring pattern in democratic politics.

Movements that emerge to challenge entrenched elites often face the danger of becoming new elites themselves. Political outsiders become insiders. Radical energies become institutional routines. Popular mobilisation gives way to bureaucratic management.

The making of Mamata Banerjee was rooted in class struggle, cultural authenticity, and democratic insurgency. The unmaking of Mamata Banerjee reflects the difficulties of translating those energies into sustainable governance.

Her political career thus offers a larger lesson about contemporary democracy itself. Electoral victories can overthrow regimes, but they do not automatically transform social relations. Cultural hegemony can be challenged, but it must be renewed through material achievements. Identity can inspire movements, but it cannot indefinitely replace political economy.

In that sense, the rise and fall of Mamata Banerjee is not merely a Bengali story. It is a cautionary tale about the promises and limits of populist politics in the twenty-first century.