The Congress party’s Karnataka government—its only major southern citadel after Telangana—is once again on the brink of internal implosion. The latest crisis stems from an increasingly visible, increasingly bitter power struggle between Chief Minister Siddaramaiah and his deputy, the Karnataka Pradesh Congress Committee (KPCC) chief D.K. Shivakumar. And once again, the so-called “Gandhi family leadership”—Rahul Gandhi and Sonia Gandhi—finds itself hopelessly exposed, unable to enforce discipline, unable to honour promises, and unable to control the ambitions of two towering regional satraps.
For a party that returned to power on the back of six populist guarantees, the victory owed as much to a weary electorate as it did to the organisational ruthlessness of D.K. Shivakumar. As state party president, he rebuilt the demoralised Karnataka Congress, engineered defections, managed caste blocs, and practically ran the booth-level machinery. In any political party with institutional memory, the person who leads the organisation to victory normally becomes the chief minister. That has been a fairly consistent Congress tradition for decades.
But the Congress has long abandoned fairness and institutional logic—especially when the stakes involve the personal ecosystems of the Gandhis.
The last major deviation from this rule occurred in undivided Andhra Pradesh in 2004. Though the Congress won under the presidency of D. Srinivas, the real force behind the mandate was Dr Y.S. Rajasekhara Reddy and his historic padayatra that electrified the state. Recognising mass appeal when they saw it, the Congress high command installed YSR as chief minister despite DS heading the party structure.
The Karnataka case, however, is the reverse: the party won because of D.K. Shivakumar’s organisation, yet he was denied the CM’s chair. Why? Because the Gandhi siblings feared that Shivakumar—embroiled in multiple Enforcement Directorate (ED) and Income Tax cases—would attract national criticism at a time when the Congress was trying to posture as anti-corruption champions. Even Shivakumar’s attempts to secure relief from courts failed, making him politically radioactive in the eyes of the high command.
Thus emerged the “compromise formula”: Siddaramaiah would be CM for the first half of the term, Shivakumar for the second. A classic Congress-style, back-room deal. A deal that was never put on paper, never announced, but widely whispered, widely understood, and—according to Shivakumar himself—explicitly promised.
The problem? Siddaramaiah has no intention of vacating the chair. And he is too experienced, too cunning, and too deeply entrenched within the Congress ecosystem to be pushed out. His supporters dominate the cabinet. His loyalists control key ministries. His hold over the AHINDA voting bloc remains intact. And Congress president Mallikarjun Kharge—himself a Karnataka heavyweight—has a direct personal stake, as his son Priyank Kharge was rewarded with a cabinet berth thanks to the Siddaramaiah camp.
Shivakumar, meanwhile, is seething. His admission about the “secret deal” was no accidental slip; it was a calibrated message. If the promise is broken, his loyalists could rebel. And while the threat of mass defection to the BJP may not be imminent, it is certainly not impossible. Karnataka politics has a long history of engineered topplings—even the 2019 Kumaraswamy government collapsed due to coordinated resignations. The Congress knows this. Siddaramaiah knows this. And DKS knows this best.
That is why Shivakumar is now clinging to both his posts—Deputy CM and KPCC president. These are his power levers. These posts allow him to control appointments, coordinate caste networks, channel funds, and command loyalty. Giving up the KPCC presidency would be political suicide, especially if Siddaramaiah refuses to step down in 2025.
The Gandhis, meanwhile, are paralysed. Mallikarjun Kharge has conveniently dumped the crisis in their lap, aware that any decision will have consequences. If they push Siddaramaiah out, they anger the AHINDA bloc and Kharge’s own faction. If they ignore Shivakumar, they risk a revolt in the Vokkaliga belt, threaten stability, and encourage quiet defection bids. And if they try to reshuffle both men, they risk blowing up their only secure southern government.
Complicating matters further is the national context. Had the Mahagathbandhan won Bihar recently, the Gandhis would have strutted with renewed confidence and might have dared to enforce the “half-term CM” formula. But the loss in Bihar has weakened their hand. Simultaneously, their strongest ally, the DMK in Tamil Nadu, is facing serious anti-incumbency heat. Any instability in Karnataka could push nervous allies to reconsider the Congress’s competence as the fulcrum of the INDIA bloc. Telangana and Himachal Pradesh—both politically shaky—could also face ripple effects.
Thus, the crisis is not merely about two Karnataka leaders. It is a test of what remains of the Gandhi family’s authority. And the truth is stark: the Congress today survives not because of the Gandhis, but despite them. Karnataka’s power struggle once again shows that the “fake Gandhis” have become symbolic mascots, not real leaders. Their inability to enforce commitments, manage ambition, or quell rebellions will leave the Siddaramaiah–Shivakumar rivalry simmering until it explodes—either within the Congress or at the ballot box.
For now, the storm may temporarily subside. But the damage has been done. Karnataka has become the latest reminder that the Congress high command has lost its command—and is fast losing the party too.
