Strained Symbiosis: AIADMK, BJP, and the Shrinking Space for Dravidian Politics in Tamil Nadu
John J. Kennedy
There’s always been something awkward, almost ill-fitting, about the political arrangement between the AIADMK and the BJP in Tamil Nadu. It wasn’t a marriage of minds, or even a confident handshake across ideological divides. Instead, it was a post-Jayalalithaa compromise, driven less by conviction and more by necessity. However, that uneasy alliance is now beginning to show deep fault lines, and not just because of tactical disagreements. What we are seeing may well be a quiet unraveling, a story of diminishing identity and the slow erosion of autonomy.
The latest chapter in this uneasy relationship has unfolded through a series of sharp provocations, most notably from within the BJP’s top ranks. Take, for instance, Union home minister Amit Shah’s recent assertion that the NDA, comprising the BJP and the AIADMK, will form the next government in Tamil Nadu.
In an interview with a regional daily, Shah went a step further to clarify that the chief minister would be from the AIADMK, though he conspicuously refrained from naming Edappadi K. Palaniswami, the party’s current general secretary. That omission, subtle as it may seem, hasn’t gone unnoticed. Is he hinting that EPS is not irreplaceable, or is it a pressure tactic to negotiate more seats to contest, and more power in the government, in case the alliance wins?
Unfortunately, it only adds a layer of ambiguity and absolutely no reassurance to the AIADMK leaders or their cadres. Shah’s statement is also significant for another reason: no Dravidian party has ever shared governmental power with an ally since 1967. The very idea that a national party like the BJP might now gain a direct stake in running the Tamil Nadu government has stirred considerable unease. In addition, former BJP state president K. Annamalai’s far more aggressive declaration that the BJP would “rule Tamil Nadu” in 2026, and his unrelenting campaign against Dravidian icons like Periyar and Annadurai, suggest these are not isolated remarks. They feel deliberate, almost like pressure tests. And with every fresh provocation, the BJP seems to be gauging just how much its ally, the AIADMK, is willing to swallow.
What makes this moment especially stark is the silence that has followed all these jibes. Not long ago, in 2023, the AIADMK had walked out of its alliance with the BJP, outraged by Annamalai’s comments about Dravidian icons. And yet, at the recent Lord Murugan devotees conference in Madurai, when the same legacy was slighted again in full public view, the party’s top leadership chose not to respond. What shifted between then and now? Is this restraint born of strategy, or is it something more troubling: a quiet surrender of ideological self-belief?
With a party that challenges its foundations
To make sense of this drift, perhaps we need to zoom out and view the alliance through a wider lens. Political scientist Giovanni Sartori once described “asymmetrical alliances” as a dynamic where a larger party steadily pulls its smaller partner into its orbit, reshaping the latter’s language, politics, and even its soul. That is precisely what seems to be happening here. The BJP is not just asserting its presence in Tamil Nadu electorally. It is attempting to rewrite the script of its politics altogether. And the AIADMK, by remaining passive, may be conceding far more than it realises. However, this wasn’t always the case. The AIADMK, forged by M.G. Ramachandran’s defection from the DMK, may not have been as ideologically rigid as its parent party, but it had a clear centre of gravity. It was steeped in the ideas of social justice, rationalism, and regional pride, values drawn from the legacies of Periyar and Annadurai. These were not just symbolic touchstones; they gave the party emotional and cultural resonance. That the AIADMK now finds itself partnered with a party that actively challenges these very foundations says a great deal about how far it has wandered.
But it’s common knowledge that politics is often a game of trade-offs. Alliances are rarely clean or easy. They involve give and take. However, there’s a difference between strategic compromise and ideological amnesia. When a party begins to ignore repeated affronts to its own legacy, it risks more than embarrassment. Unfortunately, it invites irrelevance.
In Tamil Nadu, symbols matter. Language, memory, and cultural defiance run deep. It is a state that has long resisted the pull of majoritarian nationalism, whether in the form of the Hindi imposition or religious chauvinism. The AIADMK’s current stance, which is muted, cautious, and even pliant, sits awkwardly in this context. Its silence in the face of overt Hindutva signalling is being noticed, not just by its political opponents but by its own support base.
Moreover, there are real-life lessons to be learned from elsewhere. Think of Maharashtra, where the Shiv Sena, once a fiercely independent force, split into two under the weight of its uneasy relationship with the BJP. Or Assam, where the Asom Gana Parishad steadily lost relevance as it got swallowed by its larger partner. In both cases, the regional party paid a steep price for its proximity to a much more assertive national ally. The BJP’s track record in such partnerships is clear: it hasn’t often played second fiddle for long.
The AIADMK would do well to ask itself if it is heading in the same direction. For a party that once prided itself on standing up to central overreach, it now appears strangely comfortable ceding ground. Whether it’s issues of language, education, or welfare, the AIADMK once had a voice and used it. Today, that voice feels muffled. The reasons for this drift are not hard to find. The 2021 Assembly defeat hit the AIADMK hard. With no towering figure like Jayalalithaa to anchor it, the party has floundered, divided by internal rifts and struggling to find footing. In such moments, the lure of organisational support, money power, and central access, things the BJP can offer in abundance, becomes difficult to resist. But short-term gains can extract long-term costs. No party can forever afford to keep trimming its ideological sails for tactical wind.
An identity crisis
And the BJP knows this. The party is not just fighting elections in Tamil Nadu; it is fighting for cultural legitimacy.
That is why it keeps pushing its luck. When Amit Shah predicts a BJP-led government in a state where the party has historically been a minor player, he is not just rallying the troops. He is planting a flag. And when Annamalai needles the AIADMK by attacking Dravidian greats, he’s doing more than flexing muscle. He is indeed staking a claim to the political narrative. And that is what makes the AIADMK’s silence so alarming. It’s not just a lack of reaction – it is a void where political assertion should be. Political scientist Rajni Kothari once described Indian politics as a process driven less by rigid ideologies and more by negotiation, accommodation, and survival. That may still be true, but some lines matter even in that fluid space. When an alliance begins to resemble submission, when tactical silence begins to look like ideological surrender, it is not just bad optics. It is a crisis of identity.
And this is exactly where the AIADMK finds itself now. Can it regroup and reassert the values that once defined it? Can it speak once again for a state that has consistently resisted homogenisation, whether linguistic, religious, or political? Or is it slowly becoming another regional satellite in the BJP’s expanding constellation?
Of course, there are hints of discontent within the party. And that is a good sign for the party. At the grassroots, many workers are uncomfortable with the direction their party seems to be headed. Tamil Nadu’s political imagination, shaped by decades of cultural assertion and social reform, is not easy to rewrite. However, the leadership must act before it’s too late. If it fails to harness that discomfort and translate it into a coherent stance, it risks being overtaken by both its ally and its rivals.
There is no doubt that the AIADMK now stands at a crossroads. It can reassert its voice, reconnect with its ideological roots, and offer Tamil Nadu a credible Dravidian alternative. Alternatively, it can continue to drift – silent, soft, and increasingly sidelined. But it must choose, and soon. Because in Tamil Nadu, the electorate still listens keenly for ideological clarity. The question is: will the AIADMK find the courage to speak?
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