A terrorist attacks the nation from outside the constitutional framework. An anarchist politician attacks it from within.
That is why the latter can be far more dangerous.
The recent outrage expressed by Trinamool Congress leaders over alleged hostility faced by MP Abhishek Banerjee during his visit to violence-hit areas in West Bengal would have evoked greater sympathy had the ruling establishment displayed similar concern whenever opposition leaders, political workers, journalists and ordinary citizens complained of intimidation and violence during the past fifteen years.
The question before the people of West Bengal is simple. Where was this concern for democracy, political civility and public safety when countless incidents of political violence were reported under the Trinamool Congress regime? Why should the public now shed tears for leaders who rarely showed concern when the same treatment was allegedly meted out to their opponents?
Politics has a habit of returning the medicine that politicians themselves prescribe.
West Bengal today stands as a tragic example of how prolonged political dominance can breed arrogance and weaken institutions. A government elected to serve the people gradually begins believing that it owns the state itself. The distinction between party and government disappears. Dissent becomes a crime. Opposition becomes an enemy. Criticism becomes conspiracy.
The result is what Bengal has witnessed for years.
The disturbing allegations that emerged from Sandeshkhali shook the conscience of the nation. Women from economically weaker sections accused influential local leaders of intimidation, exploitation and abuse of power. Whether every allegation ultimately stands judicial scrutiny is a matter for the courts. But the fact remains that the episode exposed the growing disconnect between the ruling establishment and the people it claims to represent.
The same public anger was visible during the RG Kar Medical College tragedy. Citizens across India were horrified not only by the crime itself but also by allegations that authorities appeared more concerned about controlling the political fallout than ensuring complete transparency. The outrage was not confined to opposition parties. It came from ordinary citizens, doctors, students and women who believed that accountability was being sacrificed at the altar of political convenience.
Such incidents do not occur in a vacuum.
They are symptoms of a deeper disease—erosion of institutional credibility.
No democracy can survive if citizens lose faith in the police, the administration, educational institutions and the justice delivery mechanism. Once that trust collapses, public anger eventually turns against those in power.
The issue becomes even more serious when questions of national security enter the picture.
For years, concerns have been raised regarding illegal immigration across the India-Bangladesh border. Successive governments at the Centre and in the state have debated the scale of the problem, but there is little dispute that border management and illegal migration remain major challenges. Critics have repeatedly accused the Trinamool Congress of viewing illegal migrants primarily through the prism of electoral arithmetic rather than national security.
Whether one agrees entirely with that charge or not, the political consequences are visible. Border districts have become battlegrounds for debates over identity, citizenship, demographics and security. Citizens have every right to ask whether short-term vote-bank considerations were allowed to override long-term national interests.
No sovereign nation can afford such ambiguity.
A responsible government protects both humanitarian values and national security. It cannot sacrifice one at the altar of the other.
The larger danger, however, lies beyond West Bengal.
Across India, a new breed of politician has emerged. These leaders speak endlessly about democracy while undermining democratic institutions whenever those institutions refuse to serve their political interests. They attack investigative agencies when investigations reach them. They question courts when verdicts go against them. They mobilise street protests when constitutional processes become inconvenient.
This is not democratic resistance.
This is organised anarchism.
Such politicians seek to delegitimise every institution except themselves. Elections are accepted only when they win. Courts are respected only when judgments are favourable. Constitutional authorities are praised only when they target opponents.
The objective is clear: weaken public faith in institutions and replace it with blind faith in individuals.
History teaches us that democracies do not collapse overnight. They decay gradually when politicians convince citizens that every institution is corrupt, every authority illegitimate and every constitutional process suspect.
India has survived wars, insurgencies and terrorism because its institutions remained intact. But when politicians themselves become agents of institutional destruction, the threat becomes far more dangerous than any external enemy.
The roots of many contemporary political challenges can also be traced to historical mistakes. Partition remains one of the greatest tragedies of the twentieth century. Millions were displaced, countless lives were lost and entire communities were uprooted. The decision to divide the country on religious lines continues to cast a long shadow over the subcontinent.
Many Bharatiyas legitimately question whether the political leadership of that era fully anticipated the consequences of Partition. Those debates will continue. What cannot be disputed is that the wounds created during that period still influence discussions on national identity, border security, illegal migration and communal harmony.
Seventy-five years later, India cannot afford to repeat mistakes born out of political expediency.
The nation’s rise as a major global power depends not merely on economic growth or military strength but on political stability, secure borders and strong institutions. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s government has invested heavily in military modernisation, border infrastructure and national security preparedness. These efforts can succeed only if internal political forces strengthen rather than weaken the republic’s foundations.
The people of Delhi recently demonstrated that voters eventually tire of perpetual agitation and politics built on confrontation. The same lesson applies elsewhere. Citizens may tolerate political theatrics for a while, but sooner or later they demand governance, accountability and results.
After West Bengal, that moment appears to be approaching even yet another borer state, Punjab, as well.
The ultimate choice before voters is not between political parties. It is between constitutional governance and political anarchism.
Terrorists attack the nation from outside.
Anarchist politicians attack its foundations from within.
And history shows that nations recover more easily from external assaults than from internal decay.
