The State may not be the best institution that societies have. But few would doubt that the best role for the State is that of an arbiter. More so in a democracy, which ideally is a theatre for contesting ideologies. In Nandigram, the State has simply withered away with dangerous consequences for the people there and, more important, for democracy itself. The withdrawal of the State has left the field open for rival groups to indulge in their politics of violence. The ruling Communist Party of India (Marxist) has sought to achieve by brute force what the state should have attempted to do by legal and constitutional means. The argument that the use of the police could have resulted in another bloodbath like the one on March 14 is both faulty and devious. It has turned out to be a ploy for letting the comrades run amok. The collapse of the state machinery has similarly helped the Trinamul Congress and the Maoists to do much the same on their turf in Nandigram. The latest incidents of violence prove this. Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee’s failures in Nandigram are too obvious. Any further delay in using the powers of the State there would raise questions about his administrative abilities and political wisdom. Add to this Mamata Banerjee’s passion for street politics, and it bodes ill for Bengal.

If the Bhattacharjee government has undermined the role of the State, so in a sense has the governor, Gopalkrishna Gandhi. His anguish is understandable. And what he has said is on the whole unexceptionable. (Though questions may be raised about his silence when the Marxists were at the receiving end.) The division between the State and the government is a legacy of imperial rule. There is little intellectual defence for such an extraordinary act. The British had to find a role for their monarch. Ambedkar was under no such obligation. Having committed a folly, he further complicated it by extending the idea to the states. This was compounded by the fact that governors are appointed. (The president is at least nominally elected.) Britain has no written constitution. Common sense, otherwise known as good practices, provides the basis of the Crown’s behaviour. The palace does not air its views publicly. Wisely. Otherwise, one would have seen the spectacle of a non-elected office trying to snipe at popular will. Bengal, unfortunately, is not Britain. Mr Gandhi is sensible and generally respected. Unfortunately, he represents both the State and the Union home ministry. A very public expression of what ought to have been a private counselling session does not augur well for anybody. Least of all for Mr Gandhi himself. Instead, the governor can create a role for himself — in private. He can use his good offices to persuade the government and the opposition to sit at the peace table. This is the time for him to do so.