By Mahesh Rathi
Three Indian sailors are killed in an American military operation. Reports emerge that after the death of another Indian sailor at sea, serious obstacles are being placed in bringing his mortal remains back to the homeland. The Government of India registers a protest. But what happens after that raises serious questions about the reality of India–America relations and the claims of nationalism made by the Modi government.
External Affairs Minister S. Jaishankar registered a strong protest before U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio regarding the deaths of the Indian sailors. Naturally, it was expected that the American administration would express regret over the deaths of Indian citizens, accept accountability, or at the very least demonstrate some sensitivity. But in the response that came into the public domain, the American side defended its operation and language resembling a threat was used on behalf of Marco Rubio. Instead of expressing regret, the U.S. Secretary of State, while justifying what was described as an unlawful blockade, said that all commercial vessels passing through the Hormuz region would have to comply with American forces’ orders and that any violation of this arrangement would not be tolerated.
For the political grandstanding that boasts of becoming a world leader, this may be considered a diplomatic remark. But for the Indian people, this was not merely a diplomatic remark but an open threat. The message that came in response to the protest over the deaths of three Indian citizens appeared to be a warning, indeed a kind of threat. It was as if it was being said that before raising questions about the deaths of Indians, compliance with American orders must be ensured. This response was far removed from the sensitivity expected of a so-called friendly nation.
It is from here that the question begins, one from which the Modi government cannot escape. Where is that nationalism whose invocation is made in every election? Where is that national self-respect in whose name political support is mobilised? If even over the deaths of Indian citizens, India is addressed not as an equal partner but as a subordinate country that receives orders, then all the government’s nationalist rhetoric begins to appear hollow.
Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his party have for years claimed that India is no longer weak, that the world listens to India, and that India is becoming a decisive power in world politics. Amid slogans such as “Vishwaguru,” “New India,” “Amrit Kaal,” and a “Five Trillion Dollar Economy,” an image was constructed that India no longer comes under anyone’s pressure. But when real international crises arise, its true picture becomes visible.
This is not the first occasion when American leadership or representatives of the American administration have used language that raises questions about an equal partnership with India. Repeated pressure was exerted over the issue of purchasing oil from Russia. Warnings were issued regarding the purchase of the S-400 defense system from Russia. On the question of technology transfer, American policymakers gave clear indications that America would provide technological cooperation only in accordance with its strategic interests. On several occasions, American officials made comments that created the impression that India was viewed not as an independent power but as a component of the American strategic framework. Yet the Modi government never dared to say: Who are you to give us orders, and we are an independent and sovereign nation.
The irony is that the personal friendship between Prime Minister Modi and American leaders is constantly publicised. From “Howdy Modi” to “Namaste Trump” and the public utterances of “My Friend,” a particular political narrative has been presented before the people. But international relations are not governed by personal friendship; they are driven by national interests and balances of power. If, despite all the claims of friendship, India must hear instructions and threats instead of sympathy over the deaths of Indian citizens, then the people have every right to ask what kind of friendship this is—or whether this friendship exists at all.
The irony is that despite the deaths of Indian sailors, the harsh response of the American administration to India’s protest, and the tensions generated by the Hormuz episode, Prime Minister Modi once again attempted to display the same old warmth with Trump at the G-7 Summit. There were smiles before the cameras, gestures of friendship, and the same familiar language of personal relations. But the Indian people are compelled to ask: when India has to hear warnings instead of sympathy over the deaths of Indian citizens, what is the political message of such public cordiality?
Is this the conduct of the leadership of a self-confident and sovereign nation, or an attempt to preserve the image of relations at any cost? This scene was all the more disturbing because, at the very time when Indian families were demanding answers for the deaths of their loved ones, Prime Minister Modi was seen repeating the old chapter of “My Friend” politics with Trump. If the questions raised by the blood of Indian citizens are answered not through diplomatic firmness but through friendship displayed before cameras, then it is natural that the perception will grow stronger that while the Modi government is vocal in the language of nationalism, it is equally silent and hesitant when it comes to the question of defending national honour.
There is another aspect to this entire episode. The deaths of Indian sailors are not merely a question of foreign policy. It is a question of the lives and safety of the lakhs of Indian workers, sailors, and migrant labourers who work under difficult conditions in different parts of the world. When they fall into crisis, they expect not merely consolation from their government but active protection and firm intervention. If the government proves weak on this test, then the credibility of its nationalism automatically becomes doubtful.
Certainly, foreign policy cannot be conducted on emotion alone. Any responsible government should avoid war hysteria and should not create unnecessary confrontation. But there is a difference between restraint and surrender. There is also a difference between balanced diplomacy and cowardly silence. The honour of a nation is determined not only by military power but also by how firmly it stands in defence of the lives and rights of its citizens.
It may be that cooperation between India and America is in the interest of both countries. But cooperation does not mean subordination. Partnership means equality. If one side issues orders and the other keeps offering explanations, it cannot be called a partnership.
Today, what is required is not false nationalism but genuine national self-respect. The safety of Indian citizens, their dignity, and the value of their lives must be placed above any international relationship. If even after the deaths of three Indian sailors, India is compelled to listen to orders and the government’s response remains limited to a formal protest. It would not be inappropriate to say that a deep gulf exists between the lofty slogans of nationalism and actual foreign policy.
And the thing that most clearly exposes that gulf is this long, uncomfortable, and cowardly silence of the Modi government. (IPA Service)
