Imperialism and Left Politics in Assam

Arup Baisya

The practice of revolutionary politics aimed at social change often faces the challenge of integrating individual components with the overall system. Understanding the dynamics between these components and the whole is crucial, as the properties of the whole cannot be accurately predicted by examining the interactions among its parts alone. In hierarchical structures, wholes are made up of parts, and those parts can also serve as wholes at a lower level of organisation. The dynamics between parts and wholes can be analysed across different scales, from microscopic to macroscopic levels. The relationships between parts and wholes may vary depending on the scale of observation. A part-whole schema is a cognitive framework that facilitates the understanding and representation of this relationship.

In a system, the properties of the whole cannot be predicted merely by understanding the interactions between its parts. The parts of a system are often interdependent, meaning that changes in one part can affect other parts and the overall system.

In academia, this topic has been explored through various theoretical analyses and mathematical models. However, in the context of revolutionary politics, it becomes a practical question. For instance, the Bolsheviks considered the interconnection between developed capitalist nations and underdeveloped ones in the context of uneven and combined development when addressing the Russian Revolution.

In Marxism and among later Marxists, financial Capital is viewed as a consequence of the centralisation of Capital, driven by the growing role of banks and financial institutions. Financialisation, on the other hand, arises from a crisis of production within capitalism, characterised by overproduction, under-consumption, and disproportionality. Since 1945, there have been ongoing conflicts in attempts to fulfil the dollar’s role in the global economy and support US national interests. Despite continuous efforts, the US government has struggled to resolve this contradiction, which has been further complicated by the dynamics of the Cold War and military Keynesianism, ultimately leading to the closure of the gold window in 1971. The subsequent emergence of the decades of US and dollar-centered financialisa-tion that began in 1973, highlighted the ongoing conflict between increased international dollar liquidity and domestic economic governance in the US. It is important to note that it was central banks and governments that played crucial roles in supporting the dollar, rather than private holders, thus emphasi-sing the significance of nation-states in sustaining the dollar’s value.(Globalisation or Imperialism? Nov. 2002)

Imperialism involves a collaboration between imperial powers and the ruling classes of various nation-states. It also leads to increased competition among relatively powerful countries, resulting in a multi-polar world. However, this concept of imperialism, while fostering multipolarity, does not imply a compromise between Capital and labour, as was seen during the New Deal. Instead, it represents a new form of multi-polarity that signifies a temporary truce among diverse ruling classes amid the ongoing financialisation stemming from the crisis in capitalism. This situation implies that financial globalisation functions as a cohesive system, negotiating among its components to avert systemic collapse, particularly in the absence of a viable solution for capitalist expansion. The primary force shaping the dynamics of both the entire system and its components is the working class, serving as the countervailing force to capitalism.

In this global context of negotiating a compromise between the imperialists as a whole and the competing nation-states as parts, this article addresses the question of nationality–class in terms of whole and parts within a specific context.

The Indian revolutionary movement, following the Naxalbari uprising, asserts that the bourgeois solution to the national question no longer exists in the era of imperialism, the idea imbibed from the Chinese revolution. Consequently, the struggle for national development is primarily a democratic movement that must be addressed from the outset by working-class politics.

This idea needs to be re-articulated within the context of imperialism. Although Marx did not explicitly discuss imperialism, he and Engels came close to the concept in the Communist Manifesto, where they refer to the expanding international market: “It must nestle everywhere, settle everywhere, establish connections everywhere” (Marx and Engels, 1958, p. 37). Lenin, influenced by the English liberal J A Hobson, shared a classical Marxist understanding of imperialism with Rudolf Hilferding and Nikolai Bukharin. This perspective emphasised the merging of industrial and bank Capital into finance capital. Hobson focused on domestic under-consumption, Hilferding examined financial Capital, and Bukharin addressed the monopolies of banks and corporations. In contrast, Lenin developed a theory of imperialism that posited monopoly as the highest stage of capitalism. Imperialism was thus framed as a denunciation of capitalist domination of less developed regions by more advanced nations.

In summary, imperialism involves the domination and exploitation by imperial states. Multinational corporations and banks exert control over the capitalist market. The flow of international Capital leads to regional, national, and class inequalities. These unidirectional capital flows concentrate investment, income, and profits in specific areas.

After World War II, many colonies in Africa and Asia gained independence through revolutions or the collapse of empires. In response to the internal realities of these ex-colonial states, various theories emerged that focused on issues such as economic surplus and backwardness, the capitalist development of underdevelopment, new dependency, sub-imperialism, and dependent capitalism. These theories replaced older ones.

Dependency theory posits that less developed regions (the periphery) depend on advanced capitalist nations (the core). The relationship between the state and both domestic and foreign Capital contributes to underdevelopment. International capital flows create internal structural differentiations. However, state control over investment, income, and profit offers the possibility of overcoming dependency.

The rise of globalisation theory has obscured these earlier theories. Proponents of globalisation describe it as an ideological project that can be viewed as imperialist. Globalisation theory as a bourgeois project is based on the idea that interdependence ensures shared benefits and equal exchanges among all nations. The diffusion of Capital and technology is believed to facilitate growth and development everywhere. Ideally, international Capital flows lead to a more balanced and equitable distribution of profits and income.

Nationalism in China encompassed three interrelated concepts. First, it involved opposing and combating imperialism. Second, it called for the establishment of a strong, modern, and centralised nation-state that would not only resist imperialism but also advance the country’s political, social, economic, and cultural aspirations. Third, nationalism aimed at overthrowing the Manchu (Ch’ing) dynasty. Among these aspects, anti-imperialism was the most prominent feature. When the pursuit of a nation-state becomes central to a revolutionary movement, the petit-bourgeois class often takes the lead in that revolution. This dynamic influenced the revolutionary strategies and tactics of Indian revolutionaries in the 1970s, particularly in less developed states like Assam.

This petit bourgeois phenomenon occurred because imperialism was understood within a specific context of fixed spatial and temporal coordinates. The part dominated the whole, or the whole was seen as the sum of its parts.

The imperialism inherent in the dynamics of Capital, as described by Marx and Engels in the Communist Manifesto, is driven by the Marxist principles of the law of the organic composition of Capital and competition, which are fundamental characteristics of capitalism. However, imperialism assumes distinct forms and characteristics during different historical periods and phases. For instance, the conditions in backward regions, such as Assam, during the post-Naxalbari uprising of the 1970s were somewhat akin to those in pre-revolutionary China. This similarity is why the national struggle became central to revolutionary practice; it was viewed as a struggle for democracy that inherently had an anti-imperialist dimension. Moreover, the concept of dependent capitalism and the centre-periphery relationship, which emerged as key characteristics in the post-World War II period for developing theories of imperialism, also influenced domestic struggles against imperialism. This is because the imperialist global order is mirrored within the domestic power structure.

The relationship between the central and state governments, which aligned with the existing imperialist structure, played a role in the revolutionary struggles. These struggles were fundamentally tied to regional and petit bourgeois classes, which represented linguistic identity. As a result, regional nationalism served as the overarching framework under which peasant-revolutionary movements could unite. Both the individual parts and the whole were understood as interconnected components that reflected one another.

The dynamics of imperialism are fundamentally based on the principles outlined by Marx and Engels in the Communist Manifesto. These dynamics encompass various characteristic traits that have become dominant features in the development of diverse theories of imperialism over time. All of these phenomena are interconnected and interact along a time-axis of change. Neoliberal globalisation, viewed as a form of imperialism, was also intertwined with the realities faced by less developed nations in the 1970s. Different theorists, such as David Harvey, who discusses accumulation through displacement, and Prabhat Pattanaik, who focuses on income deflation in developing countries as a means of transferring value to developed nations, have proposed new theories of imperialism. However, neoliberal globalisation, which is presently taking a new turn, highlights emerging characteristics of imperialism, including state control over finance, military Keynesianism, market welfarism, and a new form of multi-polarity. For a revolutionary strategy to effectively address these dynamics, it is crucial to articulate the interaction between the internal class hierarchy and the expansion and diffusion of Capital. This connection has been overlooked in revolutionary practices in Assam since the 1970s.

What is the political role of the Bengali Hindu and Bengali Muslim communities in Assam, especially considering the post-independence political landscape? It is important to note that Assam’s political spectrum–encompassing the Right, the Left, and even self-proclaimed progressives–has consistently highlighted the existential anxieties of marginalised ethno-linguistic nationalisms. This focus has become a central concern in the region’s politics. Consequently, the question of reaching a “permanent resolution” to the so-called foreigner and outsider issue has, in practice, been integrated into this political agenda. The various legal and political discussions surrounding “solutions” often represent either a strategic manoeuvre by the Right to prolong the issue indefinitely or, in the case of the Left, a futile pursuit of an unattainable political ideal. Exhausted from being outpaced in this prolonged struggle, the weakened Left now hesitates to explore alternative paths.

On the other hand, with the issue of foreigners and outsiders indefinitely suspended in limbo and both Left and Right frameworks having failed, the Bengali Hindu and Muslim communities have developed their self-defensive mechanisms in an effort to survive. These mechanisms are not static; they change and adapt according to the prevailing nature of the state’s regime. In their desire to appear acceptable to those in power, these communities are engaged in a relentless competition with one another. This competitive dynamic reveals the structural and characteristic differences embedded within the internal social composition of each community.

Among the Bengali Hindus of the Brahmaputra Valley, the educated middle class has distanced itself from its community in two notable ways: first, by migrating beyond the state’s borders; and second, by finding a semblance of stability through lower-level positions within the ruling order. As a result, the ordinary Bengali Hindu population left behind, at the lower rungs of society, has internalised a prolonged sense of historical defeat, living in a kind of cultural twilight. They gradually forget the shame of that defeat and instead pursue a constructed sense of dignity under the shadow of the state. This fabricated dignity conceals a latent psychology that transforms them into the foot soldiers of the ruling elite, manifested through Islamophobia, the denial of real class subjugation, and the transformation of collective memories of conflict into disdain. This situation represents a peculiar neuro-chemical alchemy of primitivism. The primary responsibility lies with the failed left-progressive politics, as this community once gravitated toward the Left in large numbers at a pivotal moment in the subcontinent’s history.

The Bengali Muslim societies of Assam and East Bengal have historically consisted mainly of peasants and the working class. Before 1971, their limited ownership of land did not lead to any unified political strength. The Muslim masses were actively involved in class struggles, not only against absentee Hindu landlords but also in addressing class conflicts within their community. This internal contradiction within the Muslim political landscape was evident even in the Muslim League, particularly in the conflict between the zamindar interests represented by Saadulah and the interests of the peasants championed by Maulana Bhashani.

After the Partition and the creation of Bangladesh, the influential segment of Assam’s Muslim society diminished significantly. Mosque-centric politics became a tool in the complex interplay of linguistic, ethnic, and communal dynamics. The real tension arose when a small but emerging educated middle class among the Bengali Muslims in Assam began to gain prominence. Although they were numerically limited and lacked a strong foundation within the broader Muslim community to rally support for their leadership, this fragile middle class sought social acknowledgment and status. This conflicting desire ultimately drove them into the sphere of state support. Regardless of who was in power, aligning themselves as minor collaborators seemed to be the safest option, allowing them to secure symbolic prestige and minor benefits from the ruling authorities.

Within both the Bengali Hindu and Bengali Muslim communities of Assam, a division emerged–one that had the potential to foster a shared vision rooted in working-class perspectives, thereby broadening the democratic and left-progressive landscape of Assam. If this foundation had been established, a genuine path to the development of nationality could have emerged; however, the trajectory diverged in the opposite direction. The emancipatory and creative energies of the people, along with their potential for progressive community and nationality aspirations, were suppressed. This suppression marked the decline of workers’ rights, creating an environment in which the forces of Hindutva seized power.

The root of the crisis lies in the Left-progressive camp’s unusual adoption of a specific strain of nationalist theory. This theory emphasised the emotional anxiety surrounding the fear of national extinction, rather than focusing on a materialist analysis of linguistic and ethnic identities. Instead of addressing the tangible realities of linguistic and national issues, political energy was redirected toward creating a project aimed at alleviating subjective insecurities. As a result, specific anxieties became dominant while others were overlooked. The persistent vulnerability experienced by Muslims, who are often marginalised from state power, remained largely unaddressed in official political discourse, leading to an inevitable silence within this framework.

In politics, anxiety can play a significant role, particularly when a competitive identity emerges under the leadership of the middle class in opposition to others. The Partition, the reorganisation of states along linguistic lines, and the subsequent creation of Bangladesh collectively contributed to the lack of a middle class among the two communities in Assam. This absence diminished the possibility of any counter-hegemonic nationality challenge. During the pre-independence phase, there was at least a slight presence of such a challenge, albeit with the support of British conspiratorial involvement. However, when that anxiety could no longer be accommodated within a rational political framework, an alternative was introduced: a strategy based on demographics that instilled fear.

How can two socially fragile, influential class-abandoned communities–possessing little more than numerical strength–construct a viable oppositional nationality project within the framework of a linguistically defined state? By peddling conspiratorial theories about neighbouring countries and states–a narrative that is, in essence, nothing more than a ruling-class stratagem for mutual destruction. When the ruling project itself is tied to the destructive undercurrents of national and global geopolitics, engaging with it on its terms becomes an exercise in juvenile political fantasy.

For the ordinary people of these two communities in Assam, the everyday demands of development are largely disconnected from the concepts of language, nation, or culture. As social classes, their potential for mobility and advancement could have led them towards various paths of nationality-building. However, they were suddenly hindered by a heightened sense of nationalist paranoia. This paranoia was deliberately created and imposed by the ruling class with the strategic aim of keeping Assam in a state of constant dependence on the central government. Language and ethnicity served merely as instruments–tools in a broader agenda.

At its core, the material logic of wielding this instrument lay in the politics of property.

Until the 1980s, the politics of property in Assam primarily focused on land–specifically its ownership, control, and distribution. Ethnic animosity was deliberately stoked by enticing agrarian communities with the promise of seizing others’ land, using the desperation for land to undermine peasant solidarity. This led to the fragmentation of the Left-led peasant movement, prompting the Left to manage the consequences through various political strategies aimed at alleviating nationality concerns. A significant approach was to emphasise citizenship and cultural-linguistic safeguards. It is now clear that this political strategy ultimately faced significant defeat; it was in the decline of this progressive politics that Hindutva began to rise decisively.

Alternative trajectories certainly existed. Even if one were to exclude the tea plantation workers, the number of organised workers and salaried employees in Assam was significant. However, the intellectual labour class of these workers, particularly those of Bengali and Assamese origin, fell victim to the ideological division of regional nationalism. They abandoned the internationalist teachings of the Left and instead embraced a state-sanctioned politics of fear and identity. Misguidedly, they believed they could outmanoeuvre the ruling order from within its ideological framework.

Ironically, the communities affected by this politics of fear were so internally divided by class that they lacked a unified identity based on language or ethnicity. From a working-class perspective, a counter-hegemonic approach that opposed their subordination to the centre could have not only emerged but also legitimised their claims to an “Assamese” identity. This would have fostered a natural alliance with the Assamese middle class, considering the significant role that class actors play in regional movements.

For the dispossessed toiling masses of Bengali (a local dialect)-speaking Hindus and Muslims, the decision to identify as Assamese or continue as Bengali was not about ethnic victory or defeat. There was no underlying sociology suggesting a threat to the survival of nationality. Instead, what is at stake is the establishment of a strong and healthy democracy.

The core issue is this: the politics surrounding ethnonational anxiety and the fear of imagined extinction does not align with Assam’s natural path toward bourgeois development; therefore, it lacks any democratic essence. In fact, this type of politics distorts the realities of “combined and uneven” development, opting for a route of total dependency that undermines the internal forces necessary for the advancement of the Assamese nationality. Consequently, issues related to citizenship and land ownership have resurfaced in altered forms, disturbing the very fabric of Assam’s social life.

Concerns about demographic trends no longer stir the collective social imagination as they once did. Additionally, the appeal of agricultural land has diminished. Rural Assam has essentially transformed into a landscape where subsistence living is the only viable option, and most of its population is merely nominal beneficiaries. The agrarian economy is in such distress that the rural community has become emotionally and materially disconnected from the idea of land as a source of livelihood or legacy.

However, why do questions of citizenship and eviction continue to dominate Assam’s electoral politics?

The discourse surrounding citizenship that once formed the foundation of Assam’s nationality politics has now resurfaced as a pervasive and oppressive mechanism within the Indian fascist agenda, affecting all segments of the population indiscriminately. Similarly, the agrarian land issue, which was once used as a compelling tool to mobilise peasants on the nationality question, has now transformed into a means of actual dispossession, serving the interests of unchecked corporate exploitation. This exploitation requires prime land and subsoil resources, making displacement a necessary consequence. Land and natural resources are seized under the pretext of attracting corporate investment, which predictably fails to provide adequate rehabilitation for those displaced. Consequently, this leads to an increasing reserve army of unemployed labour, ensuring a supply of cheap labour.

However, even the ruling establishment is aware that such a predatory model of governance is unsustainable. The nationalist card cannot be played indefinitely in a game of systemic devastation.

An elaborate and calculated eviction is being staged under the pretext of protecting forestland and government land (khas land). It is widely known that, over the decades, millions of people displaced by river erosion sought refuge on such lands. The overwhelming majority of these settlers are Muslim cultivators. Successive governments have actively encouraged these inhabitants with the promise of land titles (patta).

Corporate greed is now attempting to turn these lands into areas for extraction and speculation during a time of widespread economic distress and public discontent. As this happens, the bulldozers of eviction are being skilfully redirected. The goal is to present these forced displacements as anti-Muslim operations, ensuring the smooth continuation of the fascist-communal agenda without causing ideological conflict or public backlash.

One of the key factors driving the consolidation of fascist rule is the severe intensification of exploitation faced by the working class. This situation deepens a systemic crisis of demand throughout the entire economic system. In Assam, a development model heavily reliant on corporate investment and foreign debt has not alleviated this crisis; instead, it has worsened it. As a consequence, the question of citizenship has been transformed through a distorted logic of governance. Rather than defining the relationship between the state and its citizens in democratic terms, the state now imposes a regime of absolute control, subsuming all aspects of social life under its coercive apparatus. This shift has effectively reduced even the average Assamese citizen to a second-class status within the Indian Union.

However, the fascist agenda conceals this truth by presenting it in a religious and communal context, portraying Muslims as the primary targets and sacrificial others. This strategy serves as the BJP’s key advantage.

The first groups to be attracted to this strategy are often the very communities whose fragile social foundation has been neglected by their middle classes. These communities lack any alternative Left vision based on a working-class perspective. After experiencing a long period of dispossession and impoverishment, they seek a fleeting sense of identity and self-worth through the patronage of the state, especially when that state seems to support them in criticising, dehumanising, or symbolically disempowering others.

This desire to control a perceived weak adversary arises under the protective influence of the sovereign, creating an illusion of power and dignity drawn from the state’s support. The regime, fully aware of this psychological and political dynamic, is strategically shaping the discourse around eviction and citizenship. It aims to include Bengali Hindus, certain marginalised tribal groups, and tea garden “Adivasis” in an Anti-Muslim consensus. If this manufactured tension escalates into open conflict, the state hopes to redirect public anger in its favour and shift the political landscape back toward the BJP.

Sections of the Assamese middle class recognise the manipulation at play. However, they have become alienated from the masses due to the isolating and dead-end nature of years of politics of nationality. As a result, they lack the conviction to change direction and create an alternative political vision. Ironically, those who are quickest to seek refuge in the regime’s communal strategy are often the very communities that could have laid the groundwork for a progressive alternative. However, the Left-progressive forces have failed them, leaving a void where political courage and class consciousness should have thrived.

There is still time to act. The trade unions that were once affiliated with the Congress in the tea plantations and are still nominally active must be transformed into genuine workers’ unions that genuinely represent the demands of the labouring class. The concerns of Muslim peasants and wage workers today are not fundamentally different from those of Assamese or Bengali Hindu labourers. Therefore, the possibility of achieving unity through a class-based perspective is not only feasible but also urgent.

For the indigenous communities of Assam, questions of identity are now deeply intertwined with corporate exploitation and the distortions of predatory capitalist “development”. In the current situation, it is entirely possible to engage in a political struggle aimed at expelling the imaginary enemy from the collective mindset. The state’s focus on citizenship and eviction, framed through the lens of land ownership, has no real connection to the preservation of Assamese identity. Recognising this truth is essential. Additionally, the concept of “Bangaliana” (Bengali cultural nationalism) has become entirely reliant on state support and is disconnected from the actual people. It holds little real significance in Assam, serving primarily as a rhetorical flourish.

No community’s identity is threatened by its population size or the presence of neighbouring states or nations. What truly puts people at risk is the weakening of their internal class power. The rise of pan-Indian fascism has demonstrated that no community in this region has a strong and independent bourgeois class. The organic development of any nationality is impossible without the guiding perspective of the working class.

Therefore, any durable resolution to the crisis of citizenship and eviction must include two key demands: (1) The 2014 voter rolls that had been revised based on 1971 as the base year must be frozen and considered the legitimate document for preparing the citizens’ register. (2) Prohibition of land acquisition without the explicit approval of Panchayats and Gram Sabhas, where an overwhelming majority of voters give their consent.

This approach will not change the linguistic character of the state; instead, it will establish a political foundation rooted in genuine social empowerment. Since gaining independence, the region has been hindered by fragmented and narrow nationalist politics, which have led to the current state of political paralysis and disempowerment.

West Bengal’s Bengali population, too, has found itself in a similarly precarious position, differing only in degree, not in kind. Now is the time to turn the tide.

The question arises: why did the left and progressive movements become so focused on concepts like sub-nationality, little-nationality, and ethnonationality, ultimately leading to the erosion of their support base? In Assam, the left movement’s support was primarily rooted in the peasant masses in rural areas. This support was a crucial part that needed to be integrated into a larger framework to create a comprehensive left-revolutionary project. Such integration was attempted through a nationalistic programme, although the focus was mainly on regional development that opposed central power.

As a result, when the AASU’s nationalism was transformed into an anti-Bengali and anti-Muslim movement through the political manipulation of the ruling class through the central power and the Sangh’s social machinations, they were able to easily entice the Asomiya peasant masses with the promise of acquiring land abandoned by displaced Hindu Bengali and Muslim peasants. The leftist peasant movement had no alternative strategy to counter this transformation of nationalism into a reactionary agenda. This was a critical error on the part of the left and revolutionary factions, rooted in the belief that, since the resolution of the nationality question was no longer in the hands of the bourgeois class in the era of imperialism, petit-bourgeois nationalism would support democratic nationalism or align itself with working-class leadership. The developments following the 1917 Russian Revolution and the 1949 Chinese Revolution contributed to a mechanistic understanding of imperialism. However, the political reality in Assam has subsequently proven this assumption to be incorrect. While Assamese middle-class nationalism has merged with centrist Hindutva nationalism, Bodo ethno-nationalism, led by the middle class, has carved out space within the power structure to accommodate its sectarian class interests. In both instances, the middle class has secured political space that aligns with the shifting global dynamics of imperialism. Initially, in the context of globalisation, the middle class was co-opted into a system that marginalised the working class as a whole.

There was a general acceptance of middle-class nationalism not only in Assam but everywhere due to a flawed theoretical idea. This idea is based on the premise that middle-class nationalism will lead to democratic struggle or be guided by working-class leadership, even though there is no bourgeois solution to the national question in the era of imperialism.

The theoretical position presented is flawed because the middle class has developed its own form of nationalism that conflicts with the interests of the working class. The question of nationality must be addressed in a post-revolutionary society from the perspective of the working class. One cannot expect to find a solution unless the working class is in charge or its party is in power. This underscores the need to redefine imperialism as a complex and dynamic phenomenon, one with inherent characteristics that evolve over time. Imperialism needs to be understood in its motion along the time axis.

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Frontier Autumn Number
Vol 58, No. 14 - 17, Sep 28 - Oct 25, 2025