Politicians Courting the Privileged

NEW DELHI â€" In the analysis of the revolutionary springs that have come and gone in Asia, one factor is often overlooked: How much the elite of the developing world loves the idea of home, where the good life comes at a discount, status is simply granted, they can be feudal lords, and the chances of their daughters’ going astray are low. And how this love for home has been deepened by the decline of the West, the rise of Asia, the diminishing charms of escaping to affluent countries and the enchanting idea, which has consumed both resident and expatriate elite, that they can make home a better place, and thus can have it all.

The Indian middle-class awakening has quickly evolved since the summer of 2011, from a collegiate, self-righteous rage against politics to an unprecedented interest in politics. It has ceased to be an imitation of the photogenic Arab Spring and turned into a substantial and influential current that Indian politicians are no longer able to dismiss.

As a result, in the last few days, two dissimilar men who have been cast as archrivals to lead the nation after the general elections next year have reached out to the urban middle class in ways that were till recently considered unnecessary or even self-defeating by seasoned politicians. In carefully planned moves meant for television news, they spoke to the rich and to businessmen. One of them even spoke to businesswomen and to the audience of a Google-sponsored conference. And they spoke not about the nobility of poverty, not about giving away alms to the poor or about religion or caste or enemies of the nation. They spoke about ideas, some of which could make the poor, who are addicted to government charity, feel insecure. This had never happened before.

On one side of the duel is Rahul Gandhi, 42, born into a powerful dynasty through no fault of his own and for which he has often apologized, now the vice president of the Indian National Congress party, which heads the government, a man who has the bearing of the disturbed Prince Gautama who has just discovered poverty in his kingdom and is on his way to becoming the enlightened Buddha under a fig tree.

On the other side is Narendra Modi, 62, calm and shrewd, a practical man of the world, a type of Indian male who addresses women as “mothers and sisters,” who is the most popular leader of the Bharatiya Janata Party, who carries with him the exceptional pride of a self-made man who has vanquished many foes in his life. He is at his finest when he is speaking to an audience in Hindi or Gujarati. Mr. Gandhi is at his best when he is quiet.

Mr. Modi is a beneficiary of the middle-class awakening, which wants a great manager at the helm of the nation. Mr. Gandhi is a victim of the awakening, because he is a reminder of his dynasty, the old world. Mr. Modi is an overt friend of business. Mr. Gandhi has socialistic tendencies.

For complicated political reasons, neither Mr. Gandhi nor Mr. Modi has clearly stated that he would like to become prime minister. Mr. Modi has strongly hinted several times. Mr. Gandhi, if the Congress party wins, need not assume the role of prime minister because the Congress tradition is that the prime minister, when not a Gandhi, is usually an employee of the Gandhis.

Last Thursday, Mr. Gandhi, who spoke in English, and lost the threads of his speech twice, managed to state the central thesis of the Congress party. “Our economic vision must be about more than money. It must be about compassion,” he said. “It’s very simple. In a democracy, the poor have a veto. And we have to carry the poor and the weak with us.”

As is the case with good orators, Mr. Modi is able to project an image of his choosing. But he is also a projection of the Hindu middle class, which wants to believe â€" and persuade everyone who does not believe â€" that it does not adore Mr. Modi for being the man who headed a state government that, more than a decade ago, appeared to neglect its duty to protect hundreds of Muslims from being slaughtered in one of the country’s deadliest communal riots, but because he is modern and smart. It is not an image he has always lived up to.

In late March, at a conference in Delhi hosted by Google and The Guardian, Mr. Modi delivered a speech in English through a video uplink. Apart from saying things like “the Internet is a game changer,” he said, “IT + IT = IT.” Impressed for some reason by his own formula, he repeated himself before explaining, “Indian Talent plus Information Technology is equal to India Tomorrow.”

On Monday, when he addressed some of the most successful and powerful women in India, he inadvertently assumed the role of a condescending patriarch who complimented them for being great mothers and for making papads (crackers).

But these days, no matter what he says or does, the middle class is in a mood to applaud.

It has moved beyond the farce of anti-corruption death fasts. In fact, on Saturday, after being largely ignored by the nation, a man who had said he was on an indefinite hunger strike against political corruption, which he blamed for the steep price of electricity and water in Delhi, ended his fast before the inconvenience of death by ceremoniously accepting a glass of coconut water from a little girl. The man, Arvind Kejriwal, was once the mascot of the middle-class revolution against the political class. But the nation has moved on, back into the lap of politics.

Manu Joseph is editor of the Indian newsweekly Open and author of the novel “The Illicit Happiness of Other People.”

A version of this article appeared in print on April 11, 2013, in The International Herald Tribune.