Critiquing Nationalism: Perspectives from Gandhi and Tagore

Nationalism is often celebrated as the glue that holds a country together – a shared identity, a common purpose, a sense of belonging. But what happens when that sense of belonging turns into hostility toward those who don’t “belong”? What happens when love of country becomes a demand for obedience? Two of India’s most influential thinkers – Mahatma Gandhi and Rabindranath Tagore – asked exactly these questions. Their critiques of nationalism remain strikingly relevant, warning us about the dangers of militarization, social division, the oppressive modern state, and the loss of human creativity under the weight of national ideology.

Militarization and jingoism: when patriotism turns aggressive 🔗

One of the most direct dangers of unchecked nationalism is its tendency to slide into militarization and jingoism. Militarism refers to the belief that a country should maintain powerful armed forces and be ready to use them aggressively in pursuit of national interests. It also implies the glorification of military culture and the growing dominance of armed forces in policy-making. Jingoism takes this a step further – it is nationalism expressed as aggressive foreign policy, where a state favours threats and force over diplomacy to protect what it perceives as its interests.

History provides a clear example. In the decades leading up to World War I, European powers dramatically expanded their armies and navies. Germany, France, Austria, and Russia all maintained millions of reservists, and each country developed elaborate mobilization plans. This arms race and heightened military preparedness created a self-reinforcing cycle that made large-scale conflict almost inevitable. The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in 1914 served as the spark, but the kindling had been laid by years of militaristic nationalism.

The term “jingoism” itself originated in 1870s Britain, during a period of belligerent attitudes toward Russia. It later entered American political discourse around the annexation of Hawaii in 1893. The pattern is consistent: when national pride becomes entangled with military power, diplomacy and peaceful coexistence are the first casualties.

The pacifist response 🔗

Pacifists have consistently argued that nationalism’s violent tendencies – militarism, jingoism, and chauvinism – represent a fundamental moral failure. The pacifist critique zeroes in on how nationalist movements breed violence and how conflicts between nations arise from exactly this kind of aggressive patriotism. Rather than building genuine security, militarized nationalism creates a cycle of fear, retaliation, and destruction. It also relies heavily on propaganda – the systematic manufacture of enemies, half-truths about history, and the demonization of other peoples – to sustain public support for war and aggression.

Tagore himself captured this danger powerfully when he observed that nationalism allows entire populations to carry out programmes of self-interest without being aware of their moral corruption. Under the influence of nationalist fervour, people can be indoctrinated from an early age to harbour hatreds through the distortion of history and the misrepresentation of other cultures. This, he warned, could destroy the very foundations of humanity.

The problem of divisiveness: nationalism as an engine of exclusion 🔗

Perhaps the most corrosive effect of aggressive nationalism is its capacity to divide. When national identity becomes the primary organizing principle of a society, it inevitably raises the question: who truly belongs? In diverse countries, this question can be weaponous. Certain groups are forced to constantly prove their loyalty, while others are treated as the “authentic” representatives of the nation.

This “us versus them” dynamic undermines multiculturalism – the recognition that a healthy society draws strength from its diversity. Instead of viewing different languages, religions, and cultural traditions as assets, divisive nationalism treats them as threats to unity. The result is identity politics at its most destructive: communities are pitted against one another, and dissent is branded as betrayal.

How jingoism fuels social polarization 🔗

In contemporary settings, this dynamic often intensifies through media and political rhetoric. Hyper-patriotic sentiment can equate criticism of the government with betrayal of the nation, branding students, journalists, and activists who question state actions as traitors. This discourages critical thought and deepens polarization by constructing a binary between “patriots” and “anti-nationals.” Cultural symbols like the flag or the army are invoked not to inspire civic responsibility but to demand unquestioning obedience.

Tagore was acutely aware of this. He argued that India’s strength had always been its capacity to absorb and harmonize different communities – a tradition he saw nationalism as threatening. For Tagore, the social problems within a country mattered far more than external political battles. As he noted in his essay Nationalism in India, the same narrow sympathies that allow a society to impose inferiority on some of its members will inevitably produce political tyranny and injustice.

Gandhi’s vision of a stateless nation 🔗

Gandhi’s critique of nationalism went deeper than opposing British colonialism. He questioned the very idea of the modern centralized state, regardless of whether it was run by foreign rulers or by Indians themselves. His alternative was Grāma-swarājya – village self-rule – a radical reimagining of political organization from the ground up.

Why Gandhi distrusted the state 🔗

Gandhi described the state as a mechanism that ultimately harms the people it claims to serve. He believed that even a well-intentioned state would eventually revoke citizens’ rights and assume the role of grand protector, demanding total compliance. This would create a paradox where citizens are simultaneously alienated from the state and enslaved to it – a situation Gandhi considered both demoralizing and dangerous.

His suspicion of centralized power grew from direct experience. His work in South Africa and India, his observations of the Indian National Congress, and his study of British parliamentary systems all convinced him that representative democracy, as commonly practised, was unable to deliver true justice. He saw the corrupting influence of political power as almost inevitable once it was concentrated in a few hands.

Grāma-swarājya: self-rule from the bottom up 🔗

Gandhi’s alternative model centred on local self-rule. He envisioned a society structured not as a pyramid – with power concentrated at the top and supporting the apex – but as a series of expanding circles, with the individual at the centre. Every village would be self-sustaining and capable of managing its own affairs. The outermost circle would not crush the inner ones but draw its strength from them.

This wasn’t just a political preference. It reflected Gandhi’s entire philosophy of Swaraj, which he understood as something far more comprehensive than mere political independence. At the individual level, Swaraj meant self-assessment, self-purification, and self-reliance. Politically, it meant continuous effort to remain independent of government control, whether foreign or domestic. Economically, it meant freedom for the labouring masses. In its deepest sense, Swaraj could be equated with liberation itself.

What made Gandhi’s vision distinctive was its emphasis on organic relations – natural connections between people based on shared geography, culture, and mutual dependence, rather than artificial bonds imposed by nationalist ideology. A community in one region would relate to a community in another not through abstract national identity but through trade, learning, and mutual support. Gandhi favoured a decentralized pyramidal structure with village Panchayats as the primary sources of power, both political and economic, with intermediary bodies elected upward rather than authority flowing downward.

Was this vision practical? 🔗

Gandhi acknowledged that many would dismiss his ideas as utopian. But he believed that even if the vision could never be fully realized, having the right ideal mattered. In practice, his model of Swaraj was largely set aside by the Indian government after independence. India under Nehru turned toward centralized planning and industrial development. Yet the Panchayati Raj system – modified over decades and strengthened by the 1992 constitutional amendments – represents a partial, if imperfect, inheritance of Gandhi’s grassroots philosophy. Movements like the Bhoodan movement led by Vinoba Bhave and the Total Revolution led by Jayaprakash Narayan drew directly from the Swaraj ideal.

Tagore’s warning against mechanization 🔗

Rabindranath Tagore, India’s first Nobel laureate, offered a critique of nationalism that was different from Gandhi’s but equally powerful. Where Gandhi focused on the state’s coercive power, Tagore was concerned with what nationalism does to the human spirit. He saw nationalism as a fundamentally mechanical force that reduces vibrant, creative human beings to standardized parts in a machine.

The nation as machine 🔗

For Tagore, the nation was the organized expression of collective power. This relentless pursuit of strength and efficiency, he argued, drains human energy away from higher, creative, and moral pursuits. People transfer their moral responsibility to the impersonal machinery of the state, and in doing so, lose touch with their own conscience. Tagore described the products of this nationalist machinery as people turned into instruments of war-making and money-making – individuals stripped of their humanity and reduced to efficient cogs.

Tagore distinguished sharply between a nation and a society. A nation, in his view, was an organized political and economic body driven by self-interest and competition. A society, by contrast, was a moral and cultural space where human relationships and cooperative values could flourish. He used the concept of samaj (society) as his alternative to the nation-state model, arguing for a community built on relationships rather than mechanical efficiency.

Creativity versus conformity 🔗

Tagore was deeply troubled by how nationalism affected education and culture. When schools focus primarily on producing loyal citizens rather than developing individual talents and critical thinking, they produce conformists. Art, literature, and music become instruments of national propaganda rather than genuine expressions of human creativity and truth.

This is what we might call utilitarian nationalism – the idea that everything must be judged by its usefulness to the national cause. A painting matters only if it inspires patriotism. A scientific breakthrough counts only if it enhances national prestige. Tagore believed this approach ultimately impoverishes both the individual and the nation, because true creativity requires freedom from the constraints of nationalist ideology. He contrasted a civilization centred on power with one rooted in friendship and harmony.

Freedom versus security: a false trade-off? 🔗

One of Tagore’s most enduring insights concerns the tension between freedom and security. Nationalist governments frequently argue that individual freedoms must be curtailed for the sake of national security – surveillance, censorship, restrictions on movement, all justified as protection against external threats. Tagore questioned whether a nation that sacrifices the freedom and creativity of its people for security truly deserves to survive.

Tagore’s understanding of freedom went deeper than political independence. He stressed the importance of inner liberation – freedom from greed, hatred, and conformity. Without this, he argued, political freedom is hollow. As he noted in his lectures, people in supposedly free countries are often driven by a powerful minority toward goals they don’t even understand, mistaking the dizzying velocity of collective movement for genuine freedom.

How Gandhi and Tagore complement each other 🔗

Gandhi and Tagore did not always agree – their debates on nationalism, the spinning wheel, and the path to independence are well documented. But their critiques of nationalism are remarkably complementary. Gandhi attacked the structural problem – the centralized state that concentrates power and alienates citizens. Tagore attacked the spiritual problem – the way nationalism deadens moral consciousness and crushes individual creativity.

Together, they offer a comprehensive warning: nationalism, when it becomes the dominant organizing principle of society, threatens both political freedom and human flourishing. It encourages militarization abroad and conformity at home. It divides societies along artificial lines and demands loyalty over critical thinking.

Their alternatives also complement each other. Gandhi’s Grāma-swarājya envisions political power distributed among self-governing communities. Tagore’s samaj envisions a social life built on genuine human relationships, cultural exchange, and creative freedom. Neither rejected the love of one’s country outright. What they rejected was the narrow, aggressive, mechanistic form of nationalism that reduces human beings to instruments of state power.

Why these critiques still matter 🔗

The concerns Gandhi and Tagore raised are not relics of the colonial era. The relationship between nationalism, military spending, and aggressive foreign policy remains a live issue globally. The use of propaganda and media to manufacture enemies and suppress dissent has, if anything, become more sophisticated. The tension between security and freedom continues to define political debates in democracies everywhere.

In India specifically, the questions are pointed. Has the post-independence state fulfilled Gandhi’s vision of grassroots self-governance, or has it drifted toward the very centralization he warned against? Has Indian society preserved the pluralism and creative freedom Tagore championed, or has nationalist ideology narrowed the space for dissent and diversity?

These are not comfortable questions. But both Gandhi and Tagore believed that asking uncomfortable questions was far more patriotic than offering blind obedience.

What do you think? Can a society maintain a strong sense of national identity without sliding into the exclusionary and militaristic tendencies that Gandhi and Tagore warned about? And is it possible to build political community on the basis of relationships and local self-governance, as they envisioned, in an era of globalization and centralized digital infrastructure?

References

1. https://courses.lumenlearning.com/suny-hccc-worldhistory2/chapter/militarism-and-jingoism/
2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jingoism
3. https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/modern-asian-studies/article/abs/revisiting-rabindranath-tagores-critique-of-nationalism/6F2ACF271F217B5931D6A9F436E368E9
4. https://countercurrents.org/2025/06/of-nationalism-jingoism-othering-and-belongingness/
5. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swaraj
6. https://magadhmahilacollege.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/Village-Swaraj_paper.pdf
7. https://indianhistorycollective.com/on-nationalism-by-tagore/
8. https://philopedia.org/thinkers/rabindranath-tagore/