Pinarayi Vijayan: The Right In The Left

On March 30, 1977, India was emerging from the long shadow of the Emergency imposed by then Prime Minister, the late Indira Gandhi. The general election had just reshaped the national political landscape, even as in Kerala, the Congress-CPI combine returned to power.

The Legislative Assembly was in session that day, but what unfolded would outlast the moment.

A 28-year-old legislator rose to speak. A relatively unknown face from the Communist Party of India(Marxist), he represented Kuthuparamba, a small town in northern Kerala.

Then came the image that would sear itself into memory.

He held up a shirt… torn, bloodstained. The House fell into uneasy attention as he recounted, in chilling detail, the custodial violence he said he had endured after being picked up by the police from his home during the Emergency. This was not just testimony; it was an accusation.

His anger found its targets. He pointed at Chief Minister C. Achutha Menon and Home Minister K. Karunakaran holding the government directly responsible.

“This is police excess, perpetrated at the instance of the government—unacceptable,” he declared, his voice cutting through the legislative chamber.

In that charged moment, Kerala witnessed the arrival of a political leader who would go on to leave a deep imprint on its politics, its Left movement and its governance.

Pinarayi Vijayan’s journey since has been anything but linear. Yet, the essentials were visible even then: a combative instinct, a refusal to yield and a political style that would, over time, gather both fierce loyalty and enduring opposition.

Five decades later, Vijayan faces an unenviable political test. Having made history in 2021—when the Left Democratic Front (LDF) became the first political front in Kerala to be voted back to power in successive terms—he now finds himself at a critical juncture.

“It’s an important election for the Left. The welfare measures and the significant strides in infrastructure development over the past decade will help the Left return to power,” says M.V. Govindan, CPI(M) state secretary.

The party and the Front continue to lean heavily on Vijayan’s leadership and persona in this election as well. “Pinarayi is the most important leader of the CPI(M), and he is leading from the front,” Govindan reiterates.

The United Democratic Front (UDF), however, insists that Vijayan himself is the CPI(M)’s Achilles’ heel. “The way he has centralised control over the party, allegations of nepotism, and a range of corruption charges will hurt the CPI(M),” says M. Lijo, KPCC general secretary.

But the Opposition is focusing on the alleged tactical shift the CPI(M) made in recent years with respect to Hindutva politics.

After the electoral setback in the 2024 general election, which signalled a drift of votes from the CPI(M) towards the Bharatiya Janata Party, particularly among sections of the Ezhava community, the major Hindu community comprising roughly 30 per cent of the state’s population, the party appeared to recalibrate its strategy.

In the months that followed, the CPI(M) sharpened its attack on Islamist organisations, especially Jamaat-e-Islami, portraying it as a communal force. Critics, however, viewed this shift with scepticism.

“The manner in which the CPI(M) under Pinarayi Vijayan campaigned against Islamist organisations like Jamaat-e-Islami ended up lending credence to the arguments of the Sangh Parivar,” says O. Abdurehman, Group Editor of Madhyamam and MediaOne TV, controlled by the Jamaat-e-Islami.

A similar shift was visible in the government’s position on the Sabarimala Temple issue. The first Vijayan government had strongly defended the Supreme Court verdict allowing women of all ages to enter the shrine. But later, the government indicated to the Court that matters relating to rituals should be left to religious stakeholders—a move seen by critics as a significant softening.

“The change in stance shows how issues of social reform are being recalibrated to accommodate dominant religious sentiments,” says T.S. Shyam Kumar, Sanskrit scholar and writer.

“The Left government, instead of adhering to core Left principles, appears to be accommodating organisations with overtly communal interests. The manner in which Vellappally Natesan, leader of the SNDP Yogam, an organisation formed by social reformer Sri Narayana Guru, was defended after his disparaging remarks against Muslims is a case in point. Rather than this, the government should have remained anchored to the Left ethos,” says M.G. Radhakrishnan, senior journalist and former editor of Asianet News.

The Opposition has sought to widen the attack. The Congress alleges that Vijayan adopted a softer political approach after his daughter became embroiled in a financial controversy, claiming that central agencies have moved slowly in the investigation because of this.

The charge of a tacit understanding between the CPI(M) and the BJP in select constituencies has, in fact, emerged as a central campaign plank for the Opposition in this election.

An Organisational Man

Vijayan came from Pinarayi, a modest village in Thalassery taluk, barely a few kilometres from Parapram; the soil where the Communist movement first took shape in Kerala.

When Vijayan entered parliamentary politics, he was just 25 and a local leader of the CPI(M) in Thalassery. Yet, even at that age, two defining episodes had already marked him out in this red bastion.

The first came during the 1971 Thalassery riots. As communal tensions spiralled and armed groups rampaged through the streets, Communist leaders fanned out across the town, attempting to shield vulnerable minorities and restore calm. Vijayan, then a young cadre, was among those on the frontlines — part of a political culture that positioned itself as both protector and peacekeeper.

The second episode was more personal and far more fraught. Vijayan was named an accused in the murder of a Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh activist, but the case collapsed in court, with no evidence found linking him or other CPI(M) workers to the crime, leading to their acquittal.

Together, these moments rooted in political mobilisation, confrontation and vindication, helped forge Vijayan’s early image in Kannur.

The rise of Vijayan within the party structure came at a moment of churn.

He was appointed district secretary of Kannur—often described as the Left’s citadel—just as a major internal rupture was unfolding. Veteran leader M.V. Raghavan had been expelled from the CPI(M) over differences on political alliances, leaving the organisation in need of firm control and recalibration.

That stint marked a turning point. It propelled him into the front ranks of the party’s leadership in Kerala.

In the 1990s, Vijayan became a minister, which sharpened his administrative credentials. But his most consequential role came later—as state secretary of the CPI(M), a position he would hold for 17 years. It was from this perch that he would emerge as the party’s most powerful figure in Kerala and, as chief minister, shape both its internal dynamics and its political strategy for more than two decades.

“I have known Pinarayi Vijayan for decades,” says P.K. Sreemathi, former minister and Central Committee member of the CPI(M). “He steered the party through multiple challenges with discipline and sheer willpower. Timeliness, commitment, and a strict adherence to organisational norms have always been his defining strengths,” she adds.

Yet, the tenure of Vijayan, both as party secretary and later as chief minister, has not been without turbulence. Controversies trailed him, not just from political opponents but from within the Left itself.

Critics accused Vijayan of brooking little dissent and reshaping the party’s top organisational structure with leaders known more for their loyalty than independence.

“There is an authoritarian streak in Pinarayi Vijayan,” says Radhakrishnan. Yet, he locates this in a larger political context.

“At a time when the Left was shrinking across much of the country, Kerala was telling a different story. There has been no major electoral setback for the Left in the Assembly elections over the past two decades. Even in 2011, when it lost power, it was by a whisker. Pinarayi was at the forefront during this period,” he says.

Allegations of intolerance towards dissent resurfaced sharply in the aftermath of the killing of T.P. Chandrasekharan, a former CPI(M) leader-turned-rebel who had formed a breakaway outfit in parts of Kozhikode challenging the party’s dominance.

Chandrasekharan was brutally hacked to death in 2012, in a case that led to the conviction of several CPI(M) workers and triggered widespread outrage across Kerala. The incident became a flashpoint, intensifying scrutiny of the Left party’s internal culture and its handling of dissent.

Vijayan, however, drew criticism for his response. He described Chandrasekharan as a renegade, a remark that provoked sharp reactions and further fuelled the controversy.

“That showed a streak of vengeance and authoritarianism,” says K.K. Rema, Chandrasekharan’s wife and now an MLA, underscoring how the episode continues to shape perceptions of Vijayan’s leadership.

But A.A. Rahim, state committee member and a Rajya Sabha MP, offers a different perspective.

“I interact closely with the Chief Minister, both as an MP and as a member of the state committee,” he says. “He never discourages discussion and patiently listens to differing views. But once a decision is taken, he ensures it is implemented.”

Both critics and admirers point to a perceptible shift in Vijayan’s style after he assumed office as chief minister. His once combative approach, they note, gradually gave way to a more calibrated and conversational engagement—even with political adversaries.

Kannur, the home district of Vijayan, had been synonymous with political violence for decades. From the 1980s onwards, the region witnessed a brutal cycle of retaliatory killings involving cadres of the CPI(M) and activists linked to the RSS-BJP network.

A shift, however, appeared after Vijayan assumed office as Chief Minister. In a notable intervention, a dialogue between CPI(M) and RSS-BJP leaders was held, mediated by Sri M, a spiritual practitioner. The effort was seen as an attempt to impose a political ceasefire in one of Kerala’s most volatile regions.

In the years that followed, the intensity of violence in Kannur significantly subsided—a change many observers linked, at least in part, to this backchannel engagement.

For the LDF government led by Vijayan, development has been the central plank. A renewed emphasis on infrastructure and other big projects, most notably the Vizhinjam International Seaport developed by the Adani Group, has been projected as a defining achievement of the administration, alongside the state’s broader governance record.

Vijayan’s complete control over the party was on display when the LDF was voted back to power in 2021. After the victory, he made a striking and unconventional decision: none of the ministers from his previous cabinet would be retained.

The move triggered intense debate within the political community. Yet, Vijayan’s diktat prevailed.

Several senior leaders were left out, including K.K. Shailaja, whose handling of the health portfolio during the pandemic had earned widespread praise. In their place, a relatively younger team was inducted.

Among them was P.A. Muhammad Riyas, then national president of the Democratic Youth Federation of India (DYFI) and Vijayan’s son-in-law, who was entrusted with key portfolios such as Public Works and Tourism, a decision that added another layer to the debate around leadership style, generational shift, nepotism and allegations of centralised control.

“What we have seen over the years is the steady concentration of power in a single leader—it is Pinarayi everywhere,” says Damodar Prasad, a socio-political commentator.

For Vijayan, a man who has dominated Kerala’s politics for nearly three decades, politics appears, above all, to be about power: power within the party, and power for the party.

Kamalram Sajeev, a senior journalist, recalls an episode that, in his view, captures this instinct for political pragmatism. When K. Karunakaran was revolting against the Congress, the CPI(M) under Vijayan explored the possibility of an alliance with his faction.

“During an interview, I asked him how he could negotiate with a man whose government, during the Emergency, had subjected him to police torture,” Sajeev recalls.

Vijayan’s response, he says, was characteristically terse and unsentimental: the Emergency, he remarked, “was not an emotional issue—it was a political act of a particular time.”

The answer, stripped of sentiment, underscored a defining trait of Vijayan’s politics; the ability to set aside personal experience in favour of political calculation when it suited his interest.

For about three decades, as Vijayan dominated the CPI(M)—17 years as state secretary and a decade as chief minister—he has steadily reshaped the conventions of Left politics in Kerala.

Travel across the state during this election season, and the shift is unmistakable. The billboards of the LDF and the CPI(M) that dot towns and highways signal a new political grammar: it is Vijayan everywhere, and almost no one else. The founding figures of the Communist movement are largely absent from these visual narratives, replaced by the commanding, ubiquitous presence of a single leader. For some, this reflects an authoritarian streak—a centralisation of power that mirrors broader national trends. For others, it is an efficient rebranding of the Left for a new political era, built around leadership, delivery and visibility.

N.K. Bhoopesh is an assistant editor, reporting on South India with a focus on politics, developmental challenges, and stories rooted in social justice

(This article appeared in Outlook’s April 11 issue titled ‘ Warlord’ that focuses on the aggression unleashed on Iran by US President Donald Trump and the repercussions that are being felt across the globe with no end in sight.)