My esteemed colleague Shashi Tharoor’s claim that India’s silence on the West Asia conflict reflects “responsible statecraft” (March 19, IE) sits uneasily with the country’s long diplomatic tradition. Few in Parliament understand this tradition better than him. India’s foreign policy history has never been one of silence, but of a voice — even when it meant that it was sometimes solitary and often inconvenient. To suggest that restraint in moments of global crisis, where even the bombing of a school in Iran does not invite clear condemnation, constitutes sound statecraft is to overlook a deeply rooted legacy.
India has, time and again, chosen to speak even when doing so risked friction with powerful nations. The tension between moral clarity and strategic caution is not new to its foreign policy. What is new is the growing comfort with silence. There is a reluctance to articulate even basic humanitarian positions when they may cause discomfort to key partners. Over time, such reluctance risks eroding the moral capital India built painstakingly over decades, through independence of voice and a willingness to take principled stands.
To suggest, as Tharoor does, that this reflects “responsible statecraft” misreads India’s own history. Independent India has always navigated the tension between principle and pragmatism, yet it did not abandon its voice. Humanitarian positions were not impulsive reactions, but expressions of ethical commitment. What we are witnessing instead is a normalisation of silence; an acceptance of ambiguity to accommodate “key partners”, even when they stand accused of violating international law. Such obfuscation does not strengthen India’s strategic position. It diminishes it, weakening both its credibility and its long-cherished moral authority.
In the early years after Independence, under Jawaharlal Nehru, India articulated a foreign policy that was neither submissive to power blocs nor indifferent to injustice. It was during the Suez Crisis that this moral voice rang out clearly. When Britain, France, and Israel launched a military intervention against Egypt following Gamal Abdel Nasser’s nationalisation of the Suez Canal, India did not equivocate. Despite its historical ties with Britain and its own developmental dependence on the West, India condemned the invasion unequivocally. It was a moment when New Delhi refused to align its position with the comfort of powerful allies, choosing instead to defend the principle of sovereignty.
A similar clarity marked India’s stance against Apartheid in South Africa. Long before it became fashionable or geopolitically safe to do so, India raised the issue of racial discrimination on global platforms. In fact, India was the first country to bring the question of Apartheid to the United Nations in 1946. India cut off trade relations with South Africa, supported liberation movements, and consistently pushed for international sanctions. When much of the Western world maintained economic and political engagement with the Apartheid regime, India’s position stood out as morally uncompromising.
India’s solidarity with Palestine remains an enduring example of its principled foreign policy. At a time when global discourse was deeply shaped by Cold War alignments, India recognised the Palestinian cause as one of justice and self-determination. It was among the first non-Arab countries to recognise the Palestine Liberation Organisation and later the State of Palestine. This position often placed India at odds with Western powers, particularly the United States. Yet, India remained steadfast, anchored in a broader anti-colonial worldview that shaped its global engagements for decades. It is therefore striking that voices like Tharoor, who have themselves eloquently articulated and defended this very worldview in the past, now appear to endorse a posture of restraint that risks diluting that legacy.
Even within its own neighbourhood, India has not always allowed strategic caution to override moral or humanitarian considerations. The events leading up to the Bangladesh Liberation War illustrate this vividly. As millions of refugees poured into India following the crackdown by Pakistani forces in East Pakistan, New Delhi did not remain a passive observer. Under Indira Gandhi, India provided refuge and actively supported the liberation movement. This culminated in military intervention, despite clear signals from major powers like the United States and China that such action would not be viewed favourably. The decision was strategic and framed as a response to an unfolding humanitarian catastrophe.
India’s voice was equally assertive in its leadership of the Non-Aligned Movement. India used this platform to critique both American and Soviet interventions when they were at odds with the sovereignty of smaller nations. Whether it was opposing colonial remnants in Africa or advocating nuclear disarmament, India’s positions were not calibrated to please either bloc. They were, at least in aspiration, anchored in a set of normative commitments which Shashi Tharoor seems to overlook.
It is also worth recalling India’s response to the Vietnam War, when India maintained diplomatic balance, but did not shy away from criticising the excesses of the war. This was not without consequence but India’s position reflected a consistent concern for human costs over geopolitical expediency. Even in recent decades, there have been moments when India’s voice carried a moral undertone. In its advocacy for climate justice, India has argued that developing countries should not bear the same burdens as those who contributed most to global emissions. While this is also a defence of national interest, it is articulated in a language of equity and fairness that resonates beyond narrow self-interest.
I am citing these instances not to romanticise the past or to suggest that India’s foreign policy has always been morally pristine. There have been contradictions, silences, and compromises. Yet, taken together, they establish a pattern: India has, at crucial junctures, chosen to speak even when silence would have been easier, safer, or more strategically convenient. It is against this backdrop that contemporary restraint invites serious scrutiny. As India refrains from taking a clear public position on conflicts marked by visible humanitarian distress, the question largely is about the continuity of the innate Indian character. A nation that once prided itself on being a voice for the voiceless risks appearing selective in its empathy.
Defenders of restraint argue that the world has changed, that economic interdependence, energy security, and the safety of millions of Indian expatriates in volatile regions necessitate caution. No one can deny that these are valid considerations. Yet, the choice is not always between reckless moralism and calculated silence. There exists a spectrum in which a country can articulate its concerns, call for restraint, and uphold humanitarian principles without necessarily jeopardising its core interests. It is certainly not an impossible proposition. Or has it become so?
The deeper concern is that prolonged silence, when it becomes habitual, reshapes expectations. If India no longer seeks to be a moral interlocutor in global affairs, it must acknowledge that this is a departure from its historical self-image. The legacy of speaking up, whether during the Suez Crisis, against Apartheid, or in support of Bangladesh’s liberation, was forged in situations where the cost of articulation was real, not convenience. That legacy does not demand that India speak recklessly today, but it does challenge the notion that silence is inherently a mark of responsibility.
Statecraft is, by its nature, an exercise in balancing interests and values, but when the balance consistently tilts toward silence, it is worth asking whether the scale itself has been recalibrated. India’s past suggests that it is possible to navigate the complexities of power while retaining a voice that speaks, however cautiously, for principles larger than itself. The question for the present is whether it still chooses to do so.
The writer is Member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha), Rashtriya Janata Dal
