At a time when Indian democracy faces mounting challenges under the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) government led by Prime Minister Narendra Modi, Dr. Shashi Tharoor’s interventions in defence of the government’s foreign policy raise uncomfortable questions about the limits of liberal pragmatism. Presented in the language of “national interest,” such arguments risk providing intellectual cover to policies that sit uneasily with the ethical and universalist claims of liberalism itself.
Dr. Tharoor’s recent article in The Indian Express (20 March 2026), titled “India’s silence on West Asia war is not moral surrender. It is responsible statecraft,” exemplifies this tendency. His defence of official silence on the United States–Israel military actions against Iran goes beyond tactical reasoning. It reflects a broader pattern within sections of liberal thought that rationalise or accommodate illiberal practices when they are framed as strategic necessities. What is presented as pragmatism often becomes a justification for selective morality.
This is not an entirely new problem. Liberal universalism has historically coexisted with forms of exceptionalism—most notably in the justification of Western interventions abroad. The invocation of values such as democracy and freedom has, at times, been accompanied by support for wars, sanctions, or regime-change policies that undermine those very principles. The current crisis in West Asia, and the muted responses it has elicited in many quarters, appears to follow a similar pattern.
At the heart of this critique lies a deeper tension within liberalism itself. Its commitment to universal principles often collides with its accommodation of power. In practice, this can lead to a “pick-and-choose” approach, where values are applied inconsistently depending on context and convenience. Concepts such as self-preservation and national interest tend to override broader commitments to justice, peace, and human dignity. When this happens, liberalism risks becoming an instrument of justification rather than a framework of critique.
India’s position on the ongoing conflict illustrates this dilemma. While the government has maintained a cautious silence, public opinion within the country has not been uniformly restrained. Reports of civilian casualties, including children, and large-scale displacement have generated concern and criticism. In such circumstances, silence is not merely a diplomatic posture; it carries moral and political implications. To characterise it as “responsible statecraft” may understate the ethical stakes involved.
India’s foreign policy tradition offers a more complex legacy. Under Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, India sought to balance strategic autonomy with principled engagement. Its criticism of the Soviet Union’s invasion of Hungary, despite close bilateral ties, demonstrated that moral positioning need not preclude pragmatic diplomacy. This history complicates claims that restraint or silence is the only viable option in moments of international crisis.
The doctrine of non-alignment, often invoked but seldom fully understood, was not simply a strategy of balancing competing powers. It was also an attempt to articulate an alternative moral and political vision in global affairs—one rooted in anti-colonial solidarity, peaceful coexistence, and the autonomy of newly independent states. To reinterpret it narrowly as a form of tactical flexibility risks stripping it of its normative content.
In this context, Dr. Tharoor’s defence of what is now termed “multi-alignment” appears insufficiently grounded in that earlier tradition. While the contemporary global order is undeniably more complex than that of the Cold War, the question remains whether flexibility should come at the cost of clarity on fundamental issues such as war, sovereignty, and civilian protection. A foreign policy that avoids taking positions in the face of large-scale human suffering risks appearing detached from both ethical responsibility and historical precedent.
The invocation of “national interest” further complicates the debate. While no state can ignore its strategic and economic priorities, the concept itself is neither fixed nor value-neutral. It is shaped by political choices and competing interpretations. Reducing foreign policy to a narrow calculus of interest may obscure the broader social and moral dimensions that also define a nation’s global role. Moreover, in an interconnected world, humanitarian crises and conflicts have direct and indirect consequences for domestic well-being, including economic stability and energy security.
There is also a geopolitical dimension to consider. India’s longstanding ties with West Asia, including Iran and the Gulf states, are not merely transactional. They are embedded in historical, cultural, and economic relationships. A posture of prolonged silence in moments of regional upheaval may carry costs, both in terms of perception and influence. Whether such silence enhances or diminishes India’s standing remains an open question.
Critics of U.S. foreign policy have long pointed to inconsistencies between its professed values and its strategic actions, including support for authoritarian regimes or non-state actors when convenient. These contradictions have shaped global scepticism toward Western liberalism. For India, aligning too closely—whether explicitly or implicitly—with such positions risks complicating its own claims to moral and strategic autonomy.
Ultimately, the debate is not about choosing between idealism and pragmatism, but about recognising that the two are not mutually exclusive. A credible foreign policy must navigate both, without allowing one to completely eclipse the other. Moral clarity need not translate into diplomatic rigidity, just as strategic flexibility need not entail ethical silence.
Dr. Tharoor’s argument seeks to reconcile these tensions, but in doing so, it exposes the limitations of a liberal pragmatism that leans too heavily toward accommodation. When the language of realism consistently overrides the demands of justice, it risks eroding the very foundations on which liberalism claims to stand.
India’s choices in the current moment will have implications beyond immediate geopolitical calculations. They will shape perceptions of its role in the world, its commitment to its own constitutional ideals, and its ability to act as an independent voice in global affairs. Whether silence serves these ends—or undermines them—is a question that deserves continued and critical scrutiny.
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*Academic based in UK
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