I am not Left or Right. I believe in nationalism, patriotism

The words of Mamata Banerjee—“I am not Left or Right. I believe in nationalism, patriotism, the federal structure, democracy, and the poor.”—resound like the cry of a leader who refuses to be confined by narrow labels. In these words she rejects the chains of ideology, those divisions of Left and Right that so often blind societies, and instead proclaims her loyalty to enduring truths. She calls us back to the foundations of human community: devotion to one’s land, the dignity of patriotism, the balance of the federal structure, the light of democracy, and above all, the care for the poor. Here lies a vision not of partisanship, but of principle.

At the heart of this declaration is a rejection of faction. The ancients themselves warned against the danger of parties, where men fight not for truth but for their banner. Banerjee, in her words, lifts her eyes higher. She reminds us that the nation is greater than any ideology, that patriotism unites what ideology divides, and that democracy is not the possession of Left or Right, but the inheritance of all citizens. By anchoring her vision in the poor—the humble, the struggling, the voiceless—she grounds politics not in theory, but in the lived experience of the people.

History gives us vivid examples of such a stance. Mahatma Gandhi, though often claimed by factions, stood beyond them. He refused the easy armor of ideology, declaring instead his faith in truth, nonviolence, and service to the poorest of the poor. Gandhi’s patriotism was not narrow or partisan; it was expansive, rooted in love of land and people, but reaching toward justice for all. Like Banerjee, he placed the downtrodden at the center, declaring that the measure of any politics is how it treats the least among its citizens.

We can also recall Abraham Lincoln, who during America’s darkest hour declared that the nation must be united not by partisan creed but by its higher principles of liberty and equality. Lincoln held fast to democracy, not as the possession of one side or another, but as the sacred foundation of the Union. His leadership reminds us, as Banerjee does, that true statesmanship rises above party lines, anchoring itself instead in the eternal pillars of justice, compassion, and national unity.

Her mention of the federal structure is also profound. For just as Rome was built upon the balance of its republic, and just as the United States endures through the division of powers between state and nation, so too India’s strength lies in the cooperation of its states under one sovereign whole. The federal structure ensures that power does not collapse into tyranny, but flows outward, empowering many voices. It is the framework within which democracy breathes, and Banerjee’s words remind us of its sacred role in preserving freedom.

Yet her most striking note is her devotion to the poor. For what is the value of nationalism, patriotism, or democracy if the lowliest remain forgotten? Nations are not truly strong if only the mighty prosper. They are righteous only when the weak are uplifted, when the hungry are fed, when the voiceless are heard. To bind one’s politics to the cause of the poor is to anchor it in compassion, the oldest and highest of virtues. This is the patriotism that builds not only a strong country, but a just one.

The lesson for us, children of many nations, is clear: do not allow yourselves to be trapped by the false war of Left and Right. Instead, seek higher truths: fidelity to the nation, devotion to justice, preservation of democratic structures, and compassion for the poor. These are not partisan; they are eternal. The true patriot does not serve ideology but principle, not faction but people.

Thus let Banerjee’s words echo like a command: rise above the divisions of party, and serve instead the unity of nation, the strength of democracy, and the dignity of the poor. For in these lie the true treasures of any land—not in slogans of Left or Right, but in the eternal work of justice, freedom, and compassion.