Politics, like war, has a strange habit of surprising those who believe they have mastered it. Armies that have conquered continents have been defeated by weather, geography and timing. Political fortresses that stood for decades have collapsed in a single election. Bankipur has delivered one such reminder.
The victory of Prashant Kishor’s Jan Suraaj Party in the Bankipur by-election, ending the BJP’s three-decade hold over the constituency, is not merely the defeat of a candidate. It is the fall of a symbol. A seat controlled by the BJP since 1995, and one associated with the party’s national leadership after former MLA and BJP national president Nitin Nabin moved to the Rajya Sabha, has suddenly become the centre of a larger political debate.
The question is not simply why the BJP lost Bankipur. The bigger question is about the larger philosophy behind Narendra Modi’s politics: is the strongest strategist always the one who destroys every opponent, or the one who decides which opponent he wants to fight?
Modi’s politics has rarely resembled conventional electoral combat. It has been more like a long chess game where every move is planned several squares ahead. His supporters argue that he understands one of the oldest principles of strategy: a known enemy is often safer than an unknown one.
A familiar rival has a history, an ideology, a leadership structure and predictable weaknesses. A new force emerging from a political vacuum can suddenly alter the entire battlefield.
This idea has an old military parallel.
Tsar Nicholas I of Russia is credited with the famous phrase, “My two generals are January and February.” The remark, associated with the Crimean War period in 1855, referred to the harsh Russian winter acting as a natural defence against invading armies. Over time, the concept became known as “General Winter” — the personification of snow, ice and freezing temperatures as commanders capable of slowing, exhausting and destroying powerful armies.
Napoleon Bonaparte discovered this during his disastrous Russian campaign of 1812. More than a century later, Hitler’s mighty Wehrmacht faced the same reality in 1941 when the Russian winter stalled Operation Barbarossa and gave the Soviet Union time to regroup.
The lesson was clear: wars are not always won by eliminating the enemy directly. Sometimes victory comes from controlling the conditions in which the battle takes place.
This is the argument applied by Modi’s supporters to his political strategy. They say the Prime Minister has not always sought the complete destruction of every opponent. Instead, he has preferred a political landscape where rivals remain identifiable, manageable and familiar.
Maharashtra is often cited as an example. Despite the dramatic political upheavals within the Shiv Sena and the Nationalist Congress Party (NCP), their political identities survived in different forms. The argument is that a familiar adversary is preferable to an empty space that can be occupied by an entirely new force.
Political history shows why such calculations matter. When established political forces disappear, empty spaces do not remain vacant. The decline of Congress in Delhi created the opportunity for the Aam Aadmi Party. The weakening of the Left in West Bengal opened the door for the Trinamool Congress.
The Bankipur result, therefore, should not merely be read as the arrival of another challenger. From the perspective of Modi’s political philosophy, it represents a larger strategic calculation — controlling the nature of the battlefield.
The argument is that Modi does not necessarily want every opponent wiped out. A political battlefield without familiar rivals can become more dangerous because it allows unknown forces to emerge without history, baggage or predictable patterns.
That is where Prashant Kishor’s rise becomes significant.
Kishor is not an ordinary political newcomer. For years, he operated from behind the curtain, designing election strategies for parties and leaders across India. He studied voter behaviour, campaign psychology and political narratives from close quarters. He was the man who helped others win elections. Now, he has stepped into the arena himself — moving from the role of strategist to contestant.
For Modi’s supporters, the emergence of Kishor is not necessarily a contradiction of the strategy; it is part of the larger political chessboard. Their argument is that a known Kishor, whose methods and ambitions are visible, is preferable to an unknown force emerging suddenly from a vacuum.
The objective, they say, is not to eliminate every opponent but to ensure that the opponents on the battlefield are ones whose strengths, weaknesses and strategies are understood.
For critics, however, Bankipur raises uncomfortable questions. They argue that allowing political rivals to survive carries risks and that every new challenger begins as a small force before becoming a major player.
But supporters of Modi’s approach believe politics, like warfare, is about choosing the battlefield. A commander does not always seek the destruction of every enemy formation; sometimes he prefers to keep a known adversary in front because the alternative may be far more unpredictable.
In chess, a grandmaster sometimes sacrifices a piece to secure a greater advantage. But the finest players know exactly which pieces they are willing to keep on the board.
Bankipur may not be a political earthquake yet. But it has brought into sharp focus the central tenet of Modi’s politics: a known enemy is always preferable to an unknown one. Time will tell whether Bankipur validates that doctrine, or puts it to its first real test.
In democracy, however, there is one general who cannot be controlled, negotiated with or outmanoeuvred — the voter. And that general delivers the final verdict.
