India's foreign policy — optics, opportunism and scapegoating

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As India stumbled to control the global narrative, the world witnessed a spectacle not of strategy, but of survival.

In the aftermath of the Pahalgam crisis, India's foreign policy apparatus did not project strength or coherence — it unraveled. The absence of Foreign Minister Subrahmanyam Jaishankar during a critical juncture, paired with the sudden deployment of opposition figure Shashi Tharoor to lead diplomatic efforts abroad, serves more as a public relations exercise than a genuine diplomatic outreach.

For a government that has long prided itself on projecting India as a global thought leader — the self-proclaimed Vishwaguru — the absence of a coherent response at the peak of a crisis is telling.

Meanwhile, India's traditional approach of labelling issues such as Kashmir as strictly "bilateral" — to avoid international mediation — lies in tatters.

While maintaining this stance on paper, India has quietly engaged in a transnational campaign, reaching out to countries like Egypt and Ethiopia as well as the Gulf states, and even using platforms such as the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation to push its narrative. This contradiction — denying third-party involvement while lobbying third parties — has exposed the brittle foundations of India's diplomatic posture.

At the same time, India has failed to achieve its long-standing goal of diplomatically isolating Pakistan.

Major powers, including China, Turkey, Russia and Azerbaijan, have either backed Pakistan's call for dialogue or rejected India's unilateral assertions. Even OIC, the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation, voiced unequivocal support for Pakistan's position, reinforcing Islamabad's principled and consistent approach to regional peace and legality.

This diplomatic rejection was not limited to friendly states. The United States, the United Kingdom and the European Union all called for de-escalation and dialogue, pointedly refusing to endorse India's narrative. The only vocal supporter of India's position was Israel  whose interest was less political and more transactional, owing to its sale of military drones to India.

Compounding the issue is India's selective memory when it comes to international mediation.

During his first tenure as American President, Donald Trump offered to mediate the Kashmir dispute on multiple occasions — but India swiftly rejected. The irony is hard to ignore: while India spurned third-party involvement from Washington, it now canvasses the globe for support under the guise of counterterrorism diplomacy.

India's inconsistencies are not confined to its foreign relations. Domestically, the BJP's exploitation of the Pahalgam incident reveals a deeper authoritarian streak.

Far from fostering political consensus, the ruling party has used the crisis to stifle dissent, marginalise opposition voices and monopolise the national security narrative. By controlling the discourse, BJP has turned a tragic incident into a political opportunity — one that allows it to present itself as the singular guardian of national interest while rendering the opposition mute.

However, despite the effort to control the narrative, cracks are showing.

The Congress party, initially constrained by the optics of national unity during the crisis, has started questioning the government's transparency regarding Operation Sindoor, specifically inquiring about the number of Indian aircraft lost to Pakistan. Rahul Gandhi has also accused the BJP of strategic failures, arguing that its policies have inadvertently strengthened the China-Pakistan alliance, which should have rather been strategically weakened.

Moreover, India's record on longstanding agreements such as the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT) further exposes its strategic hypocrisy.

The treaty, a rare success story in India-Pakistan relations brokered by the World Bank, obliges New Delhi to ensure uninterrupted flow of water from western rivers to Pakistan. Yet, Delhi has repeatedly threatened to manipulate these flows, delay data sharing and weaponise water as a coercive tool — actions that run counter to both the spirit and substance of international law.

What emerges from this pattern — of opportunistic diplomacy, domestic authoritarianism and selective application of international norms — is not a picture of a rising power, but of a government scrambling to manage the contradictions of its own making. India's foreign policy, once guided by Nehruvian non-alignment and strategic clarity, now oscillates between hyper-nationalism and insecure populism.

Pakistan, in contrast, has chosen to respond with quiet but firm diplomacy.

Rather than engaging in media theatrics, Islamabad's Foreign Office held briefings, engaged international partners and let India's contradictions speak for themselves. This approach has not only preserved Pakistan's credibility but also earned it renewed support in key capitals around the world.

Ultimately, the Indian government's current trajectory raises troubling questions about the future of diplomacy in South Asia. If foreign policy is reduced to damage control, and diplomacy is outsourced to the opposition while dissent is criminalised, then India risks alienating both its neighbours and its own democratic institutions.

In the age of information, when global audiences demand transparency and consistency, it is not enough to shout slogans or stage media spectacles. Diplomacy requires more than optics — it demands vision, accountability and, above all, coherence. On all three counts, India's foreign policy is in freefall.