In India's vibrant political and media landscape, expressions of outrage are never scarce. Yet, this outrage often comes with conspicuous conditions. When a crime against women happens in a BJP-ruled state, there is a fiery wave of condemnation. Hashtags trend, activists and influencers rally for justice, and liberal voices rise in unison. However, when equally horrific crimes take place in West Bengal, this outrage mysteriously dissipates. The same voices that loudly denounce patriarchy and government failure tend to fall silent or scroll past without acknowledgment.
The facts are clear and documented. According to the National Crime Records Bureau, over 34,000 cases of crimes against women were reported in West Bengal in 2023. Among these, more than 1,100 were rape cases, with thousands more involving assaults, harassment, and violations of the Protection of Children from Sexual Offenses Act. These are official records and speak for themselves. The conviction rate paints an even grim picture. Less than 10 percent of rape cases in Bengal result in convictions, significantly below the national average. Furthermore, the state's fast-track court disposal rate is approximately 2 percent, among the lowest in the country.
This year, West Bengal has seen several harrowing incidents that briefly captured public attention. The rape and murder of a young doctor at Kolkata's RG Kar Medical College ignited protests and blame games. The brutal gang rape of a medical student in Durgapur reminded the public of the state's deteriorating law and order. Yet, despite these tragedies, there has been no sustained national outcry. In contrast, similar cases in BJP-ruled states often trigger widespread debates, celebrity interventions, and full-fledged campaigns demanding justice.
This selective silence likely stems from ideological convenience. Many self-proclaimed liberal thinkers and influencers view events through political lenses. Crimes in BJP-ruled states are not only tragedies but also ammunition to criticize the government. Meanwhile, when similar atrocities occur in West Bengal, governed by the Trinamool Congress, the narrative shifts. These cases are dismissed as policing failures, isolated incidents, or the result of lapses in college security. The tone softens, the urgency wanes, and the calls for justice become muted.
The state leadership in Bengal has occasionally exacerbated the problem. Rather than addressing these issues seriously, some officials have made insensitive remarks that indirectly blame victims, questioning why young women were out late or accusing political opponents of exaggeration. Such comments would evoke widespread outrage if coming from BJP leaders. However, in this context, they are met with polite silence, a few cautious editorials, and are soon forgotten.
This contradiction is startling. Those who claim that justice knows no party seem to calibrate their outrage according to the ruling party. Empathy thus wears a political bias. When crimes happen under a saffron government, they represent a national crisis. When they occur under regional or non-BJP regimes, they become complex social problems. This hypocrisy would be almost laughable if the consequences were not so severe. For the victims, political gamesmanship offers no solace, only neglect masquerading as nuance.
It is worth noting that some journalists, activists, and citizens in Bengal continue to raise their voices. However, their concerns rarely gain national traction. The media rapidly shifts focus, especially when a story fails to align with preferred narratives. Outrage is easy when it fits existing ideologies. It becomes uncomfortable and inconsistent when it demands moral consistency.
When moral accountability is selective, justice becomes entangled in politics. The real tragedy is not only that crimes persist but that society chooses when and where to care. Today, West Bengal ranks among the states with the highest number of crimes against women, yet its supporters often prefer denial over confrontation. The silence of those who claim to speak truth to power is not just deafening; it is telling.
In contemporary India, outrage is rarely about right or wrong. It depends on which political party governs. As long as empathy aligns with political interests, victims in Bengal and so many others elsewhere will continue to suffer, tethered to convenient moralities that pick and choose when to empathize.
