My disillusionment with mainstream Communist politics

Image credit: Suneesh K

Last month, while changing channels on my television, I heard Communist Party of India (Marxist) Kerala State Secretary Kodiyeri Balakrishnan talking about inviting foreign universities to Kerala.

WHAT!

I stopped to hear more because, during my school and college days, I was ‘enlightened’ by my comrades that privatisation is a Western evil — it was a big ‘no-no’ for the Communists. We were taught to fight the ‘greedy bourgeoisie’ tooth and nail, failing which they would upset social justice, and deny education for the weaker sections.

Kodiyeri was clear when he said that "Kerala would invite foreign universities in the higher education sector."

The Slogans

As Kodiyeri waxed eloquent about how this move would improve the education sector in Kerala, I remembered a popular slogan among members of the Communist Party of India (Marxist) (CPI(M))’s student wing Students’ Federation of India (SFI) from my pre-university days in the early 1900s:

‘Palakaate Pattanmarkkum / Palanattile Pathrimaarkkum / Sree Narayana Sishyanmaarkkum / Samastha Kerala Nayanmaarkkum / Kozhikotte Koyamaarkkum / Adiyara Vecha Vidhyabasam / Athinte Mochana Kahalam Othi / Njangal Varunnu SFI.’

(‘We, the SFI, are coming to liberate the higher-education sector, which has surrendered to the Brahmins in Palakkad, to the Priests in Pala, to All Kerala Nairs, to the Disciples of Sree Narayana Guru, and to the Koyas in Kozhikode.’)

Privatisation was sneaking into Kerala’s higher-education scene, and the Left parties took it upon themselves to ‘liberate the higher education sector from caste-based and religion-based organisations in Kerala, and prevent them from upsetting social justice.’

Representative Image

The Euphoria

I started my political journey when I was 13-years-old, in Class 8, by joining the SFI. With my maternal uncles serving in several mid-level positions in the CPI(M) it was a natural course for me.

In my small village in Kottayam, in central Kerala, I was always given the chance to lead the sloganeering for both the Democratic Youth Federation of India and the SFI. It helped that I was good at public speaking, and that my maternal uncles were local leaders in the party. Young boys, with plastic red garlands around their neck, holding red flags with a sickle and hammer on it were showstoppers.

It was euphoric to have party workers repeat the slogans you shout. For the teenager in me it was exhilarating. In those days (and I would guess now as well) as student leaders, we would poke our heads into any and every issue, protesting for anything and everything was a norm, and holding rallies that would often turn violent was common. We were made to feel that we were an extension of the local law and order mechanism, or even above the law.

The Scars

We used to joke that ‘a rally isn’t one if there hasn’t been a lathi-charge (by the police)’. In hindsight it was reflective of how naive we students were; or was it arrogance?

I was beaten up by the police in 1995 while participating in a protest against the then Congress-led AK Antony government’s move to privatise the medical education sector. It was the first time I was beaten up by the police, and not the last time. I was 17-years-old and in my second year in college.

Back in the day the Congress was in favour of privatising higher education and the Left was opposing it — today the tables have turned.

In the summer of 1995, in the state capital Thiruvananthapuram, medical college students were protesting against the privatisation of the healthcare sector education — it was labelled the MEDICOS strike. Following police high-handedness against the striking students, which was prominently covered by the media, the SFI declared a state-wide strike, and it spread to other college campuses as well.

The dilemma for us SFI activists was that in the college I was studying there were around 3,000 students, but just 25 SFI members. I was confident that the DYFI members would join the rally and our numbers would swell before we reach the city centre.

I was heading the rally, and suddenly things took an ugly turn. The comrades resorted to violence and started hurling stones at shops and establishments owned by Congress members and their supporters. The police intervened and from all sides they broke the rally. We were surrounded by baton-swinging policemen. Many were hit, many fell down, and among them I also received a blow or two, or many.

As I lay on the road, I noticed that my white dhoti was turning red — blood red. It makes for good cinema for leaders to dip their whites in blood and raise the red flag — but reality bites. Among the many blows, I was hit on my right leg, above my ankle; the pain was excruciating, and blood was oozing out of the wound.

From there we were bussed to the police station. Senior comrades negotiated with the police, and I was taken to the hospital for treatment; four stitches were needed. From there back to the police station. Numerous cases were charged against me and the other protesting students. By evening we were let out on a bail.

Twenty-seven years later, in 2022, as I watched on TV the senior communist leader inviting foreign universities to set shop in Kerala, I gently rubbed over that scar above my ankle. My fellow comrades who took part in that protest, and the many other protests against the privatisation of higher education in Kerala would have felt a same sense of void — that after all we braved police lathis for nothing. The scars may be permanent, but the ideology is transient.

Martyrs

The following year, in 1996, we protested against senior politician MV Raghavan. This time too there was police action; thankfully we were not left with gushing wounds.

The Communist party’s beef with Raghavan was that he was backing the privatisation of a medical college in Kannur, in north Kerala. Another reason was that Raghavan was once upon a time a firebrand Communist who had trained many of the current Left leaders from Kannur. He left the party in 1986 following his differences with EMS Nampoothiripad, CPI(M) leader and Kerala’s first Chief Minister.

Raghavan joined the Congress, and on November 25, 1994, the infamous Koothuparambu firing took place where police fired live ammunition on DYFI activists protesting the privatisation of medical education. Raghavan was blamed for the incident. Five activists — KK Rajeevan, Madhu, Shibulal, Babu, and Roshan — died on the spot, and Pushpan, who was shot in the back but did not die, got paralysed and is a living martyr.

The irony is that when Kodiyeri, Vijayan, and party leader Sitaram Yechury were talking about inviting foreign universities to Kerala at the 23rd state conference of the CPI(M) held earlier this month, photos of the five Koothuparambu martyrs were displayed.

Private Education

Of course many party members have fought bigger battles, and when compared to their sacrifice, my scars are immaterial. But where it hurts is that when I see how the Communist party has changed its perception towards industrialisation, computerisation, privatisation, and foreign investment in the last two decades. I, and many like me who were made to believe that we were fighting a societal evil, feel fooled and dejected. We were pawns on the chessboard readily available for the kill.

Yes, it was the Antony-led Congress that ushered in privatisation of the medical sector in 1995. In 2001, when he became Chief Minister again, he opened the doors of professional education (like engineering) to the private sector. Since Antony, both Congress and Left governments have come to power, the latest being the Vijayan government winning a consecutive second term in 2021. Yet none of these governments have reversed privatisation in this space.

Before 2001, there were less than a dozen engineering and half a dozen medical colleges in Kerala. Today there are more than 125 engineering and two dozen medical colleges, where management makes a killing through huge fees. Back-of-the-envelope estimates suggest that it would cost more than Rs 1 crore to complete an MBBS course in a private medical college. Little wonder that many students make a beeline to Ukraine and China, where the course can be completed at a quarter of this expense.

The Mirage

My experience while I was working in West Asia taught me that the revolution which the comrades promise is a mirage. There I saw Communist leaders breaking bread with ‘bourgeoisie’ businessmen who exploit workers for private gain. This further disillusioned the Communist in me. Today I understand and work towards labour and human rights, but not necessarily in the paradigm of ‘practical politics’ that many of our leaders profess.

Communist leaders now roll out the red carpet for multi-national companies. But there are few, like me, who believe that ‘when the hunter dogs bark, when opposition shoot at us, with all fervour we will shout, long live the revolution, louder, again louder, long live the revolution.’

Rejimon Kuttappan is a freelance journalist and author of ‘Undocumented: Stories of Indian Migrants in the Arab Gulf’. Twitter: rejitweets. Views are personal, and do not represent the stand of this publication.