Z+ (content subject to subscription); Courage in politics: For the first time, someone was not afraid

At a time when fear seems to be the norm in politics, there is a shared sense that every move made by our leaders is tinged with anxiety. The most striking image? A government that fears reforms as much as it fears protests against them, that is as afraid of rising prices as it is of measures to curb them, that is concerned about environmental issues but also about the reactions of younger generations within political parties. Today’s article starts from precisely this point: the widespread belief that politics—at least the politics we see every day—is driven more by fear than by courage. But there is a twist: democracy is truly strengthened only when someone breaks this pattern and demonstrates, for the first time, that they are not afraid. We are used to thinking that courage in politics is simply a matter of personal character – a bit of mettle, a bit of luck, perhaps a dash of recklessness. In reality, this view is wrong. True political courage does not spring from nowhere: it blossoms when, faced with a system paralyzed by timidity, someone decides to act without hesitation. Not because they have nothing to lose, but because they decide that dignity matters more than instant approval. Take Péter Magyar, for example. In Hungary, amid a climate of widespread fear, he was one of the very few who spoke out. He didn't hide behind the usual pre-packaged phrases. He chose to take a risk—and his voice, though isolated at first, served as a catalyst for those who dared not even whisper their ideas. There is one detail that says more about him than any manifesto: in his first interviews, he never looked down. His gaze was direct, even in front of hostile cameras. This seemingly trivial choice actually says it all: those who are no longer afraid do not lower their gaze. Another example comes from a completely different context: Pope Leo. When no one wanted to confront the barbarian invasions, it was he who stepped outside the city walls and negotiated directly. No armor, no escort: only the moral strength of someone who refuses to let fear be his compass. And then there is Herbert Grönemeyer, who, in times of censorship and tension, sang lines like “Angst ist keine Lösung” – “Fear is not a solution” – from the stage. Three different worlds, one choice: to give oneself permission not to be afraid. But the story doesn't end with the big names. In Germany today, every small political gesture seems to be weighed on the scales of fear: vague statements, downcast eyes in front of journalists, decisions postponed indefinitely. Yet, when someone breaks the cycle and speaks out, the reaction is immediate. People notice it, they feel represented, and democracy itself takes a breath. There is one fact that gives pause for thought: in times of crisis, the popularity of those who dare to speak the truth often increases, despite the risk of losing positions of power. After all, courage is not a luxury for the few, but a catalyst for collective trust. Here is the perspective that is almost always missing: fear is not just a personal weakness; it is a virus that spreads among the members of a ruling class. But courage is just as contagious. When someone chooses dignity over self-interest, it often triggers a domino effect. And, for a moment, politics once again becomes worthy of the name. True political change occurs when someone decides that fear no longer sets the rules. If this idea has given you a new perspective, on Lara Notes you can indicate that it resonates with you using I'm In — choose whether it's a point of interest, a personal experience, or a belief you hold. If, in a few days, you find yourself telling someone that in politics, courage is more contagious than fear, on Lara Notes you can tag those who were with you thanks to Shared Offline: it's your way of saying that that conversation mattered. This Note is based on an article in DIE ZEIT and has saved you several minutes of reading time.