"It is dreadful, but it must be done. India must gain her independence, cost what it may." - Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose.
Critics of Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose have long pointed fingers at one particular chapter of his journey, which is his decision to seek help from Adolf Hitler in his fight against British rule. To them, it’s a moral failing, proof that Bose aligned himself with fascist powers and by extension, was sympathetic to the Nazis. For decades, this claim has stirred debate: how could a leader of India’s freedom movement reach out to someone like Hitler? However, as historian Leonard A. Gordon once remarked perfectly, “Bose was not pro-Nazi. He was anti-British.” And honestly, that makes all the difference. Netaji’s vision for India was rooted in values like secularism, socialism, and unity that clashed with Hitler’s racial and authoritarian ideology. He openly criticized Nazism, disapproved of Hitler’s persecution of Jews, and had no illusions about what Hitler stood for. Scholars like Romain Hayes have documented how Bose was deeply uncomfortable in Nazi Germany and made his displeasure clear in private. In fact, he even criticized Hitler’s Mein Kampf for its racism and imperial arrogance. So, coming to the main point, why did Bose still reach out to Hitler? Simply put, politics isn't about what feels right; it's about what gets results. As the old saying goes, everything’s fair in love and war. For Netaji, the fight for India’s freedom came above all else. If that meant making a difficult alliance with someone he fundamentally disagreed with, so be it. In his eyes, no cost was too great if it could help break the chains of British rule.
As India gears up for its 79th Independence Day, let's revisit that misunderstood strategy of Bose.
It was during World War II. The year was 1941, and Britain, India’s colonial master, was embroiled in a life-or-death struggle against Nazi Germany. For Bose, this global conflict was a rare window of opportunity. The British Empire was stretched thin. Bose, who had broken away from the Indian National Congress over its commitment to non-violence, believed India’s freedom couldn’t be won through appeals or petitions. Armed struggle, he felt, was the only path. As he famously thundered, “Give me blood, and I shall give you freedom."
Hence, reaching out to Hitler was his move in geopolitical logic: the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Nazi Germany was Britain’s fiercest opponent. If the Axis could weaken British control, it could advance India’s liberation. Historian Sugata Bose, in His Majesty’s Opponent, writes, “Subhas Chandra Bose saw the war as a chance to exploit Britain’s preoccupation with its own survival.” For Netaji, siding with Germany wasn’t an ideological alliance, but rather a tactical maneuver to gain resources, recognition, and support for a war against British rule.
Germany, for its part, saw Bose as a useful pawn. Hitler (although his racial prejudices and Eurocentric ambitions meant India remained low on his priority list) understood that a rebellion in India could definitely strain Britain’s war efforts. A 1942 memo from the German Foreign Office observed, “The Indian question is of great importance for weakening England’s position in Asia.”
Before meeting Hitler, Bose had to pull off a real-life thriller. In January 1941, under house arrest in Calcutta, he escaped dressed as a Pathan. Slipping past British surveillance, he crossed into Afghanistan, journeyed through the Soviet Union, and reached Berlin under the alias “Orlando Mazzotta.” In Berlin, he set up the Free India Center for diplomacy and propaganda, and began broadcasting stirring anti-British messages via Azad Hind Radio. He also recruited Indian POWs captured in North Africa to form the Indian Legion that would fight alongside German forces.
“Bose’s strategy was to create a nucleus of an army that could inspire a broader uprising in India,” notes historian Romain Hayes in Subhas Chandra Bose in Nazi Germany.
Netaji’s outreach to Germany was more than a military alliance. It was a diplomatic offensive. First, he sought international legitimacy. By dealing with Germany, Italy, and eventually Japan, Bose aimed to present India’s independence struggle as a global issue. His Free India Center functioned like a government-in-exile, issuing proclamations and lobbying for recognition of the INA as a legitimate army. Second, he weaponized the airwaves. Through Azad Hind Radio, he delivered powerful speeches aimed at Indian soldiers and civilians: “My comrades in the war of liberation… it is blood alone that can pay the price of freedom.” His broadcasts sought to chip away at colonial morale and encourage desertions from the British Indian Army. And third, he remained brutally pragmatic. He was never under illusions about Germany’s motives or Hitler’s racism. Disillusioned by Germany’s limited support and Hitler’s refusal to offer clear backing for Indian independence, he eventually pivoted toward Japan in 1943. There, he found greater military support and revived the INA to fight on the Burmese front. As historian Peter Ward Fay wrote in The Forgotten Army, “Bose was not wedded to any one power; his loyalty was to India’s freedom.”
Let's make no mistake. Bose’s alliance with Hitler was never comfortable, even for him. In private writings, he condemned Nazi racial theory and often lamented Germany’s “narrow and selfish” nationalism. A 1936 letter criticizes Hitler’s glorification of the white race. But in a world where few powers were willing to support anti-colonial revolts, he chose strategic compromise over ideological purity. With the Indian National Congress opposed to armed rebellion and the Soviet Union preoccupied with its own survival, Germany (however problematic) was one of the few doors left open.
Even within Nazi circles, Bose didn’t play the submissive guest. He negotiated directly with German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop, demanding support and resources for Indian troops. He insisted that the Indian Legion remain autonomous and fight only the British, not Germany’s other enemies. This refusal to be co-opted reflected his clarity of purpose.
Perhaps most remarkably, in his only meeting with Hitler in May 1942, Bose confronted him over racist passages in Mein Kampf that disparaged Indians. He reportedly asked Hitler to retract them to blunt British propaganda. Hitler deflected, but the exchange underlined Bose’s defiance even in the lion’s den.
Bose’s gamble didn’t pay off in the way he had hoped. The Indian Legion never made it to Indian soil. Germany’s support remained half-hearted (because of their decreasing dominance in World War II), and by 1943, Bose shifted to Japan to lead a new chapter of the INA’s fight.
Still, his time in Germany wasn’t wasted. It amplified the Indian cause on the global stage, and it allowed Bose to lay the groundwork for future military and political maneuvers. While Gandhi’s non-violence gained moral support, Bose’s armed resistance showed that India’s fight wasn’t one-dimensional.
Many, including Gandhi himself, criticized Bose’s choices. According to them, aligning with fascist powers was a dangerous road that could morally compromise India’s independence. But Bose felt there was no other option. Britain had jailed him, Congress had sidelined him, and time was slipping away. As historian Faisal Devji writes, “Bose’s moral compromises were not endorsements but desperate measures in a desperate time.”
When Netaji reportedly died in a plane crash in Taiwan in 1945, his death became the stuff of mystery and myth. But his influence was real. The INA’s trials in 1946 sparked protests and mutinies within the British Indian forces, accelerating the British departure from India in 1947. As historian Ryan Baidya notes, “Bose’s determination to free India, despite ethical compromises, remains a story of courage and singular focus.”
