The wish guru

India today is not ruled by a prime minister but by a wish guru. A leader fuelled less by policy than by image, less by competence than by dominance. At the heart of this phenomenon lie two forces Francis Fukuyama identifies as isothymia and megalothymia: the yearning to be recognised, and the darker craving to dominate. The first is an innocent and universal human impulse. The second is what happens when recognition becomes a zero-sum game. Countries nursing old colonial wounds are particularly vulnerable to this transformation, mistaking raw power for self-respect. India's growing discord, both at home and abroad, is a textbook example of this shift.

The pattern is global. Dominance hierarchies are driving debates everywhere, from conspiracy theories to cultural skirmishes like Sydney Sweeney's "good jeans". We live in the age of pop psychology, where one-size-fits-all cures for complex social pathologies sell faster than careful scholarship. Jordan Peterson's 12 Rules for Life, with its lobsters and wrens, rehabilitates hierarchy as a survival mechanism, outselling more challenging works like Acemoglu and Robinson's The Narrow Corridor: States, Societies, and the Fate of Liberty, which connects the thirst for dominance to despotic leviathans. These influences seep into politics, legitimising strongmen who promise self-assertion on a national scale, even at the cost of liberty.

Last week, I wrote about India's monsoon session and the widening rift between the Modi government and the RSS. Some readers complained that I glossed over the international blowback against the diaspora and the policies that caused it. The oversight was due to space, but the point deserves elaboration, particularly when the ineptness of Indian discourse leaves these issues unexamined.

India is in the eye of a storm. Exogenous shocks and self-inflicted wounds buffet the country, yet its pundits seem blind to the forces shaking their world. This is no accident. In electing Modi over more capable leaders, India chose form over substance. Its media abandoned its role as everyman's watchdog and recast itself as the strongman's cheerleader and dirty tricks department. Journalism was reduced to laundering one man's image, living off state or elite-sponsored hand-me-downs. The so-called alternative media offered only reaction, not depth, sacrificing critical thought at the altar of expediency.

Consider this. Last week I noted ex-VP Jagdeep Dhankhar's age (74) as a key reason for his shock resignation being ignored. No one has gone near it with a barge pole since. Likewise, the media gawks at President Trump's tariff policy towards India without understanding the deeper dynamics, or Modi's failure to strike a trade deal with Washington. When you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail. Modi used repression to silence farmers' protests. Could he then open agriculture to foreign competition without risking chaos? His supporters blame Congress for forcing his hand in Operation Sindoor. But would this opposition back him in case of trade concessions?

Modi rose to power not as a policy craftsman but as a political sorcerer selling wishes. His rhetoric promised miracles: a self-reliant India, instant global respect, prosperity for all. Like a street-side fakir offering talismans for every ailment, he presented dominance as a cure for national insecurity. But wishes are not strategies, and magic cannot substitute governance. The deeper the country's problems grew, the louder the promises became. India was not given a statesman but a wish guru, a leader who thrives on chants of devotion while evading the hard work of building lasting institutions.

The Indian diaspora played a crucial part in Modi's rise. It craved an image makeover abroad and better governance at home. After "putting Muslims in their place" during the 2002 riots, he built a doer's reputation as Gujarat's chief minister. Billionaire allies enriched under his rule amplified the myth. Eleven years later, many diaspora members are waking up to the reality that they were duped.

For years, the diaspora believed that power abroad would translate into prestige at home, and that Modi was the man to deliver it. They mistook fear for respect, thinking that browbeating minorities, silencing journalists, and projecting brute strength would make India admired on the world stage. But dominance is not dignity. As the cracks appear, H-1B visas under fire, overseas scrutiny rising, far-right links backfiring, the myth of Modi as a global strongman-turned-statesman is collapsing. Wishes, no matter how loudly sold, cannot override the long memory of democracies or the quiet contempt of the powerful.

This diaspora had flourished under western multicultural hospitality. Modi's natural allies, however, were not liberal democrats but far-right extremists. His obsessive image projection forced Indians abroad into the spotlight, inviting scrutiny and paranoia, while his minions empowered far-right groups making life abroad harder. Manmohan Singh had mainstreamed Indians overseas. Modi weaponised them. Even coercion was acceptable if it polished his image.

Had it not been for the ill-advised visit of far-right EU MEPs to Kashmir to end the post-Article 370 isolation, the world might never have heard of Srivastava Group's operations or India's links with Europe's far right.

When Nikki Haley was foisted on Trump's first administration as UN ambassador, it passed without comment. But when she was last to exit the 2024 primaries, despite paltry votes and after a failed attempt on Trump's life, it was too much for his base. Kamala Harris then became his main challenger. The same base that still seethes over Hillary's challenge to their leader began to question the Indian link. Focus shifted to Silicon Valley, feeding into the H-1B visa backlash. Rishi Sunak, similarly pushed to front a failing UK government, led his party to its worst defeat in living memory.

Meanwhile, Modi's obsession with image left him surrounded by yes-men. Governance atrophied. His lack of education and limited grasp of key issues left India with little more than a wish guru at the helm.

The RSS, under Dr Mohan Bhagwat, had banked early wins under Modi but plays a long game. It now sees the fallout of self-serving blind policies. Listen to Bhagwat's speeches after enduring Modi's diatribes and you are pleasantly surprised. Unlike Modi, talent and genuine intellectual discourse do not make him insecure. Darkness may be Modi's compulsion. The RSS wants to outgrow it and build genuine global outreach. The 2024 election results, state polls in Haryana and Maharashtra, and the Operation Sindoor debacle offer a chance to replace Modi. A hundred-year-old organisation with all the cards is unlikely to let that chance slip. Modi has none left to play.