Yoga Has Been Used Politically, But That Was Never Its Intention

We live in a time of profound turmoil. Wars rage across the globe. Communities are fractured by separation and division- Democrats and Republicans, left and right, “us” and “them.” Even questions of identity, gender, race, culture, and religion are too often reduced to labels that divide rather than unite. It is easy to feel overwhelmed by the noise of the world, and to wonder if yoga, too, has become just another tool in the battle of ideologies.

Over the last century, yoga has indeed been used politically, culturally, and commercially in ways far beyond its original purpose. During India’s struggle for independence, it was reframed as a symbol of national identity and resistance. In the West, it has been appropriated and re-appropriated: marketed as mystical spirituality, repackaged as fitness, and most recently sold as a wellness lifestyle. In each case, yoga became a symbol bent to fit an agenda.

And yet, when we turn back to the root texts, we find something different. Yoga’s true purpose was never outward display, but inward liberation.

The Kleshas: Why We Suffer

Patanjali reminds us in Yoga Sutra II.3 that the root of our suffering lies in the kleshas: ignorance (avidyā), ego-identity (asmitā), attachment (rāga), aversion (dveṣa), and fear of death (abhiniveśaḥ).

Every external circumstance, political turmoil, personal drama, even the endless news cycle, has the power to inflame these kleshas if we allow it. We suffer not because the world is noisy, but because we attach ourselves to what we cannot control.

Practice and Non-Attachment

Patanjali offers us a way forward in Yoga Sutra I.12:
“abhyāsa-vairāgyābhyāṃ tan-nirodhaḥ”

The fluctuations of the mind are stilled by practice and non-attachment.

Here is the essence of yoga: steady practice, paired with letting go. Some things are within our reach; many are not. The wisdom lies in knowing the difference.

What Is Ours to Do

It is easy to confuse engagement with overreach. I will not become president of the United States at 52 with no political experience outside my field. But when a neighbor loses her husband, I can cook her a meal. That is within my reach.

The Sutras affirm this discernment. In II.16, Patanjali writes: “heyaṁ duḥkham anāgatam”  future suffering can be avoided. We cannot erase all suffering, but we can ease it where our hands and hearts can reach. When the possibility of grace stands before us, we step in. When it does not, we release our grasp and return to freedom.

The Field and the Knower of the Field

The Bhagavad Gītā expands on this vision in Chapter 13. Krishna teaches that there is the field (kṣetra), the body, the circumstances of life, the ever-changing external world, and the knower of the field (kṣetrajña), pure awareness itself.

When I lose myself in the field, I am pulled by every circumstance. But when I remember I am the knower, I act wisely within the field without being bound by it. This is discernment: acting where I can, letting go where I cannot.

Purusha and Prakriti: Freedom of the Mind

Yoga philosophy describes this in terms of Puruṣa and Prakṛti. Puruṣa pure consciousness is unchanging, the eternal witness. Prakṛti nature, the field of experience, is everything else: body, senses, mind, and the world around us.

The mistake that causes suffering is identifying with Prakṛti instead of Puruṣa. Our liberation comes when we remember: we are the witness, not the storm. True freedom is not found “out there” but in the quiet clarity of the mind.

Liberation That Ripples Outward

The Yoga Sutras teach that the ultimate aim is kaivalya liberation. When I no longer grasp at what is not mine to control, I find freedom. And from that freedom, I can step forward in the places where my presence matters most.

This is not bypassing. It is living awake. Personal freedom ripples outward: when I am steady, I do not add more agitation to the world. When I act from clarity, I bring grace to my neighbor, my community, my family.

A Living Practice

So perhaps yoga is not political in its intention, though it has been used politically across history. Its purpose is more radical: to free us from suffering by clarifying the difference between what is ours to change and what is not.

The practice is simple, though not easy:

• Where we can be effective, we step in.

• Where we cannot, we let go.

• In both, we practice freedom of the mind.

This, to me, is the heart of yoga. Not withdrawing from the world, but moving within it with discernment, compassion, and grace. And perhaps, in tending to the freedom within ourselves, we create the conditions for peace around us.