Rahul Gandhi and the Fetishisation of Courage, A Critique of Congress’s Political Strategy
In the last few years, Congress has managed to create a spectacle in every session of Parliament. Perhaps the party does so to overcome its lack of numbers or, more importantly, to assert its assumptions of moral superiority.
Congress has also constantly characterised those in the top tier of the Union government and the BJP leadership as morally inferior, if not degenerate. In the process, Rahul Gandhi has sought to confer on himself and his party a saintly halo, perhaps not realising that such a halo can be found only in gardens of quietude and serenity, not amidst the chaos of power-seeking and plenitude of hypocrisies.
The Confused Fusion
Rahul Gandhi’s strategy for his party has been a confusing mix of the quasi-spiritual and the quasi-physical. He appears to have found this fusion in the translocated philosophies of Japanese and Chinese martial arts as well as Buddhist meditation techniques—all of which appear to instruct placing excessive premium on one’s own moral strength and righteousness.
To feel and act fearless has been Rahul Gandhi’s singular political mission for long. This whole process has made him a kind of fetishist of courage. Courage becomes not a means to an end, but an end in itself. It is performative, theatrical, and ultimately, self-referential.
The Parliamentary Spectacle
Even in the most recent session of Parliament, this fetishisation was apparent. Rahul Gandhi positioned himself as courageous and characterised everyone opposite him as “compromised”, “scared” or “surrendered”. In his speech during the Budget session, he made a reference to jiu jitsu, and taking a swipe at Prime Minister Narendra Modi, said: “They have got a grip on his neck… We can see fear in the eyes of the Prime Minister.”
This is not political argument; it is psychodrama. The claim that the Prime Minister of India is afraid, that he has a grip on his neck, is not an assertion that can be debated or proven. It is a performance of courage by the speaker, designed to contrast his own fearlessness with the imagined fear of his opponent.
The Naravane Episode
This fetishisation was evident even when it came to the controversy over the unpublished memoirs of General M M Naravane. The trope was of a brave army man (in Rahul Gandhi’s own mould) being left to fend for himself by the Prime Minister at a time of crisis.
Again, the binary is drawn: the brave individual versus the cowardly establishment. The nuance of civil-military relations, of the complexities of memoir publication by serving or retired officers, of the institutional processes involved—all are flattened into a simple narrative of courage versus cowardice.
The Mahatma’s Image
More recently, the official social media handles of the Congress party used images of a bare-chested Mahatma Gandhi to back the shirtless protests at the India AI Impact Summit in Delhi—an unmistakable false equivalence. One post said: “Cowards do not love, love is the mark of the brave.”
This is a remarkable appropriation. The Mahatma’s commitment to truth and non-violence, his decades of struggle, his philosophy of satyagraha—all reduced to a slogan about a shirtless protest at a technology summit. The complexity of Gandhi is flattened into a meme, deployed for immediate political gain.
The Binary Trap
There is a pattern to Rahul Gandhi’s courage fetishism. In the past, with almost every single issue he has raised, he created a binary: Fear and fearlessness, love and hate, truth and lies, facts and fake, forgiveness and retribution, inclusion and exclusion, divisiveness and harmony. Invariably, in each instance, he cast himself as the virtuous protagonist with those opposite him, or against him, as the fallen ones.
The binaries are a problem in themselves, but an even greater problem is that Rahul Gandhi has repeatedly and obsessively placed himself at the righteous extreme. There is no space for complexity, for ambiguity, for the possibility that opponents might have legitimate concerns or that allies might have flaws.
The 2018 Hug
There has been little nuance to Rahul Gandhi’s pronouncements, as these binaries play out in a simplistic way in a complex political setting. In 2018, he hugged Modi in Parliament and, speaking in the language of priestly beatification, said that he would “release or unlock the love trapped inside him”. He hugged people on his Bharat Jodo Yatra as a supreme salesman of his “mohabbat ki dukaan”.
The language of love and courage, deployed in the rough-and-tumble of electoral politics, becomes a marketing slogan. “Mohabbat ki dukaan” is a catchy phrase, but what does it mean in policy terms? How does it translate into governance, into legislation, into the hard compromises of coalition politics?
The Consequences
His rhetoric of righteousness has slowly turned into blisters of self-righteousness, thereby circumscribing the opposition space. When you claim a monopoly on virtue, you leave no room for alliance, for negotiation, for the messy work of building consensus.
The fetishisation of courage has serious political consequences for Rahul Gandhi and the Congress party. It does not allow them to focus and pursue a political issue that they raised in the first place. One only has to look at the number of issues that Rahul Gandhi has raised in the past few years, only to let them languish.
Each session of Parliament brings a new slogan, a new protest, a new performance of courage. But the issues themselves—farmers’ distress, unemployment, price rise, inequality—remain unresolved. The performance substitutes for the policy.
The Myopia of Courage
The myopia of courage debilitates political sight and insight. When you are constantly looking for opportunities to display your own fearlessness, you miss the larger picture. You fail to see that politics is not about personal virtue but about collective outcomes. You forget that courage is not an end in itself but a means to achieve justice, welfare, and progress.
Conclusion: Beyond Fetishism
The critique is not that Rahul Gandhi lacks courage. He has shown physical courage on many occasions. The critique is that courage has become a fetish, a substitute for political strategy, a way of avoiding the hard work of building alliances, crafting policy, and winning elections.
Congress needs more than a “mohabbat ki dukaan”. It needs a political programme, an organisational structure, a coherent ideology, and a willingness to engage with complexity. Until it moves beyond the fetishisation of courage, it will remain where it is: a party of spectacle, not substance.
Q&A: Unpacking the Critique
Q1: What does the author mean by “fetishisation of courage”?
The author argues that Rahul Gandhi has turned courage into a fetish—an end in itself rather than a means. He consistently positions himself as fearless and virtuous while characterising opponents as “compromised,” “scared,” or “surrendered.” This performative courage substitutes for political strategy and substantive engagement with complex issues.
Q2: What examples does the author cite of this tendency?
Several examples: Rahul Gandhi’s claim in Parliament that “they have got a grip on his neck” referring to PM Modi; the framing of General Naravane’s memoir controversy as a brave man abandoned by a cowardly establishment; Congress using images of a bare-chested Mahatma Gandhi to support shirtless protests at the AI summit; and the “mohabbat ki dukaan” rhetoric during the Bharat Jodo Yatra.
Q3: What is problematic about creating binaries like fear/fearlessness, love/hate?
These binaries simplify complex political realities into simplistic moral dramas. They leave no room for nuance, ambiguity, or legitimate disagreement. Rahul Gandhi invariably places himself at the righteous extreme, claiming a monopoly on virtue. This approach precludes genuine debate and coalition-building.
Q4: What are the political consequences of this strategy?
It prevents the Congress party from focusing on and pursuing issues it raises. Each session brings new slogans and protests, but issues like farmers’ distress, unemployment, and inequality remain unresolved. The performance of courage substitutes for policy development. It also alienates potential allies and circumscribes opposition space.
Q5: What does the author suggest Congress needs instead?
Congress needs more than a “mohabbat ki dukaan.” It requires a political programme, an organisational structure, a coherent ideology, and a willingness to engage with complexity. Until it moves beyond the fetishisation of courage, it will remain a party of spectacle rather than substance. Courage must be a means to achieve justice and welfare, not an end in itself.
