An otherwise stoic Kerala Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan recently displayed the gentler side of his personality at the funeral of his long-time comrade-in-arms Kodiyeri Balakrishnan. This raised questions about the strong sense of brotherhood within cadre-based organisations. Do such political entities foster a strange blood brotherhood? Does the politics of Kannur, the Marxist stronghold and home to these two leaders, generate powerful bonds within the ‘Stalinist’ confines of their party? More such questions have surfaced lately that address human behaviour in a cadre party.

Of course, such queries are valid. Vijayan, who was seated next to the body of his departed younger comrade, a former State Secretary of the Communist Party of India (Marxist), who was also a former Kerala home minister, had an unusually sombre expression on his face. His composure remained the same at all functions where Balakrishnan’s body was placed for public viewing following his demise on October 1 from pancreatic cancer. Just before Balakrishnan’s body was to be taken to his final resting place in the iconic Payyambalam cremation ground in Kannur, Vijayan gave a speech that was abruptly concluded when he, apparently, felt that he would break down. For a leader who has a reputation for being stolidly unemotional otherwise, the sight of Vijayan struggling to fight back tears was a departure of sorts. It was quite unlike the public perception about him.

Party insiders joke that Vijayan controls his emotions all the time except when he is angry. It is said that if he feels like laughing out loud when someone makes a light statement, he often chooses to excuse himself and take a toilet break – only to enjoy a hearty laugh without being seen.

Again, public display of vulnerability – such as crying – is still seen as a weakness in the communist scheme of things on other occasions. It is scorned at. The CPI(M) was embarrassed and upset when a former district secretary of the party in Kannur cried inside a court when a close relative of his was handed life imprisonment in a murder case. In fact, he only had a short stint in the post, and although he had to relinquish his position over an issue of indiscipline, the perception persisted that he was not meant for the job because he was overly sensitive for a dyed-in-the-wool communist. On another occasion, when a CPI(M) MLA wept before TV cameras expressing innocence over an alleged act of indiscretion, it wasn’t seen as acceptable behaviour by the comrades.

True, we have seen tall leaders of Kerala publicly grieving the passing of their long-time associates earlier, too, and in much more obvious fashion. But such instances have been rare and most leaders invariably put up a brave front in public. The late Kerala Chief Minister EK Nayanar was an exception. He wept uncontrollably before the cameras in 1991 when MK Kelu (also called Kelu-ettan, a beloved comrade of his) passed away and later in 1998 when the Marxist paterfamilias EMS Namboodiripad died. But then Nayanar, a crowd puller, had the licence to cry and even make what we may now see as preposterous remarks. He had the uncle-next-door image and the party condoned it.  

There is certainly something deep about the blood-brother syndrome or behaviour, clannish or otherwise. Being under attack constantly from rivals naturally makes cadres thicker and closer than anyone can imagine. They become part of a cohesive entity. This is true of all movements and groups with lofty goals to achieve. One could see these traits in nationalist movements across the world when the yoke of European colonialism was still in place. The powerful ties between Nehru and Patel notwithstanding their huge differences of opinion serve as testament to the remarkable personal connect among those who share a great mission. This is a universal phenomenon. Big leaders often talk about missing their fallen heroes long after they are gone. Even Stalin talked about missing Lenin shortly following Operation Barbarossa in June 1941. The highly charismatic Iranian military commander Qasem Soleimani, a natural leader by all counts, was known to weep before the dead bodies of his men, despite having to project the image of a strong leader.

Now, while there is nothing exceedingly exceptional about Kannur and its leaders compared with the rest of CPI(M) leaders from other regions, both Vijayan and Balakrishnan became friends and comrades when their party faced the biggest of odds. Those were tough times indeed. In the short run-up to the declaration of Emergency, their party was constantly under attack and had been out of power for nearly six years in Kerala, and in the process, it was losing its sheen. When in 1975 Indira Gandhi restricted civil liberties and threw many opposition leaders in jail, both were housed together in the Kannur Central Prison. Pinarayi Vijayan was an MLA at the time, but he was brutally beaten up before he was jailed. He needed help to answer the call of nature and to even get up from his bed, and Balakrishnan, then a student leader of the party, was beside him while his injuries healed over the next months. They go back a long way.

The duo may have had their own priorities within the CPI(M) over the decades since then, but over the past 25 or so years, they have helped each other and grown as two of the tallest leaders from the state unit. Pinarayi Vijayan is the undisputed number one and Balakrishnan was the man who ensured that their interests prevailed thanks to his likeable persona.  

There is a flip side to extreme devotion to a cause and brotherhood. When people are friends, they often look at the bright side of their buddies, and if they become enemies, they only see the dark side. The greater the bond, the more vehement the hostilities – that is usually the case. In several other parties where politics is seen as an entrepreneurial task, rivalries are not necessarily fanatical. But communist parties are different. We have seen such extreme bitterness when the Communist Party of India split in 1964 and when the CPI(M) was formed. Mutual suspicion became way too high for any normal interaction between these newfound political opponents. Slanging matches ensued. Later in Kerala, when the CPI(M) expelled MV Raghavan and other party leaders over charges of anti-party activities in 1986, blood brothers turned bitter foes, and were soon at each other’s throats. The nasty turn of events took a toll on Kerala politics, especially in Kannur, with former comrades locking horns to shed blood. The 1990s proved to be a dark chapter in Kannur politics with the death toll touching unprecedented levels in political clashes.

Several scholars lay the blame for all that at the feet of centralisation of power in communist parties. Others disagree with this theory. In any case, although organisational elections are more frequent in the CPI(M) than in so-called democratic and liberal parties in India, there is more to democratic centralism than meets the eye. It is the cornerstone of a Leninist party like the CPI(M). Vladimir Lenin, founder of the Soviet Union, had proposed that party members discuss and debate issues freely but finally uphold the majority decision. He once described the whole concept as ‘freedom of discussion and unity of action’. Which means you can discuss anything but the final outcome will be based on what the politburo decides. Anyone who defies it cannot expect comradely love. Many scholars of communism aver that such collective behaviour is truer of Leninist parties than others.

Chief Minister Vijayan, to those who know him well, is vastly different now from what he was a few decades earlier. After all, age plays a big role in the way one reacts to situations. In his obit, he described Balakrishnan as his brother. They were, in more ways than one. It showed in the way he expressed his grief at the latter's funeral. But don’t be mistaken: the Chief Minister is unlikely to dilute the Leninist principles one bit. Not for anyone. Not yet.

Ullekh NP is a writer, journalist, and political commentator based in New Delhi. He is the executive editor of the newsweekly Open and author of three books including Kannur: Inside India’s Bloodiest Revenge Politics. Views expressed are author's own.