Tibet, the Dalai Lama and the Geopolitics of the Himalayas : Reflections on Dr. Lobsang Sangay’s Address at Shyam Lal College

 

Some academic engagements do not end with the conclusion of a lecture or the dispersal of an audience. They remain with us, compelling us to revisit questions larger than the immediate occasion. On 24 September 2026, as the Teacher-in-Charge of the Department of Political Science at Shyam Lal College, University of Delhi, I had the privilege of convening a seminar titled “The Geopolitics of the Dalai Lama’s Reincarnation.” What began as an academic initiative became, for me, an occasion for deeper reflection on Tibet, China, India, and the future of the Himalayan region.

We were privileged to have as our Chief Guest and keynote speaker Dr. Lobsang Sangay, Lecturer on Law and Senior Visiting Fellow at Harvard Law School and former Sikyong, or President, of the Central Tibetan Administration. His association with Delhi made the occasion particularly meaningful. Before proceeding to Harvard Law School, Dr. Sangay had studied at the University of Delhi. He subsequently served two terms, from 2011 to 2021, as the democratically elected political head of the Central Tibetan Administration. He therefore spoke not merely as an academic observer of Tibet but as someone who has spent a considerable part of his public life representing and articulating the Tibetan question internationally.

For me personally, Tibet has never been merely another subject in International Relations. I have always felt an emotional connection with the Tibetan people. Their history, their experience of exile, and their struggle to preserve their culture have remained close to my heart. I have written a detailed human rights report on Tibet while I served as the Secretary General of the Center for Democracy, Pluralism and Human Rights (CDPHR), a New Delhi-based research institute. I had the privilege of inviting Dr. Sangey as the Chief Guest at the report release event at the Constitution Club of India in 2021. Since then, Tibetan people's aspiration to exercise meaningful autonomy over their religious and cultural traditions has compelled me to engage academically with the issue. Sympathy should never become a substitute for critical academic enquiry, but scholarship need not require the abandonment of human empathy either. It is difficult to remain completely detached from the predicament of a people who have struggled for decades to preserve their monasteries, language, religious institutions and inherited traditions.

It is equally important to state accurately what the Tibetan leadership has formally sought. The Middle-Way Approach advocated by the Central Tibetan Administration does not seek Tibetan independence from the People’s Republic of China. It seeks what the Tibetan leadership describes as genuine autonomy, particularly in areas such as religion, culture, language, education, and environmental protection. The distinction is important because the Tibetan question is frequently reduced to a binary choice between Chinese sovereignty and Tibetan independence, whereas the stated approach of the Tibetan exile leadership attempts to locate a negotiated space within that debate.

Perhaps the continuing resonance of the Tibetan question became evident to me in an unexpected way after our seminar. I uploaded Dr. Sangay’s lecture to my YouTube channel so that students and others unable to attend the programme could listen to him. Within barely two days, the lecture had crossed 6,500 views, accompanied by an unusually large number of comments, likes and responses. For a channel such as mine, primarily devoted to academic lectures, discussions and public affairs, this was a rare response. I do not regard digital viewing figures as scientific evidence of public opinion, but the experience was nevertheless revealing. Something about Tibet, the Dalai Lama and the question of religious freedom had clearly touched a chord well beyond the physical audience that had gathered in our College.

The response also reminded me that Tibet is not merely an issue concerning Tibetans. Questions about a people's relationship with their homeland, their ability to preserve their religion, and their right to sustain inherited cultural institutions possess a universal human resonance. This perhaps explains why the Tibetan cause continues to attract attention and sympathy in India and in many parts of the world despite the passage of decades. The extraordinary global moral stature of the Dalai Lama has certainly contributed to that visibility, but beneath the personality lies a larger question: how does a community preserve its civilizational identity when the institutions through which that identity is transmitted become subject to extensive state regulation?

For India, Tibet carries an additional significance because it is simultaneously geopolitical, geocultural and ecological. Long before modern nation-states drew boundaries across the Himalayas, monks, scholars, pilgrims, traders, texts and ideas travelled between India and Tibet. Buddhism journeyed from India into Tibet, where it developed into one of the great traditions of Buddhist philosophy and monastic scholarship. Indian masters such as Shantarakshita, Padmasambhava and Atisha occupy an enduring place in Tibetan Buddhist memory. Much of India's Buddhist intellectual heritage that subsequently declined in its land of origin survived through Tibetan translations, commentaries and monastic traditions.

Tibet, therefore, cannot be regarded as culturally distant from India. There exists a civilizational relationship that predates the political boundaries and strategic anxieties of the twentieth century. This makes Tibet a geocultural question for India, even as contemporary developments have made it an unavoidable geopolitical one. The Himalayas were certainly formidable geographical barriers, but historically they were also bridges through which civilizations interacted. To look at Tibet only through the contemporary India-China boundary is consequently to see only one layer of a much older relationship.

Geography adds another dimension. The Tibetan Plateau and the wider Hindu Kush-Himalayan high-altitude system are often described as the “Asian Water Tower.” The region forms the headwaters of major Asian river systems and supports water security for vast downstream populations. Recent scientific research estimates that the wider Asian Water Tower sustains water resources for approximately 1.9 billion people and encompasses the headwaters of eleven major river systems.

This hydrological geography makes Tibet and the wider Himalayan region enormously consequential for India. The Brahmaputra, Indus and other river systems demonstrate how developments in the upper reaches can eventually acquire ecological, economic and strategic consequences downstream. India and Nepal are among the countries whose societies and economies are deeply connected to Himalayan river systems. Climate change, glacial retreat, changing precipitation, hydropower development and river management therefore make the ecological future of the Tibetan Plateau and surrounding mountains a matter of regional rather than exclusively domestic concern.

The terrible Himalayan disaster of August 2026 provided a painful reminder of this ecological interconnectedness. A massive collapse involving the Langtang Lirung glacier in Nepal, close to the Tibetan frontier, triggered a devastating flood and landslide. By 21 September, more than 1,400 deaths had been reported and thousands remained missing, while hydropower infrastructure and settlements suffered enormous destruction. Earlier scientific assessments pointed towards unusually high temperatures and accelerated glacier loss as important background conditions, although investigation into the precise dynamics of the catastrophe continued.

There is no credible evidence that Chinese actions caused this catastrophe, and it would be irresponsible to suggest otherwise. The more important issue is structural. A rapidly changing Himalayan cryosphere does not respect political boundaries. Scientific understanding of glaciers, river flows, extreme events and infrastructure risks therefore requires transparency, continuous observation, exchange of hydrological information and cross-border research. A recent scientific review specifically identifies enhanced transboundary coordination and data-sharing as important components of water security across the Asian Water Tower.

It is in this context that restricted external access to Tibet acquires an ecological dimension as well. The Tibet Autonomous Region remains subject to special entry requirements for foreigners, and independent foreign journalists have repeatedly faced substantial restrictions. U.S. State Department reporting covering 2023 recorded that requests by American officials for official travel to the region were not approved and that journalistic access remained tightly controlled; independent reporting also documents Tibet as uniquely restrictive compared with other provincial-level regions of China. These restrictions should not be conflated with the causes of natural disasters, but limited independent access can complicate outside observation and scrutiny of a region whose ecological changes have consequences extending across national borders.

This is why Tibet should increasingly be approached not merely as a territorial or human-rights question but also as an issue of ecological security. Scientific research shows that the Asian Water Tower is undergoing significant warming and hydrological change, with consequences for the Brahmaputra, Indus and other transboundary rivers. In an age of climate change, upstream-downstream cooperation, environmental transparency and scientific exchange are not concessions by one state to another; they are increasingly necessities imposed upon all of us by geography.

The same question of openness arises in another, very different sphere—the condition of Tibetan Buddhist religious institutions. The experiences of Larung Gar and Yachen Gar, two major centres of Tibetan Buddhist learning, have attracted considerable international concern. Human-rights organisations have documented demolitions, expulsions of monks and nuns and increased administrative controls at these institutions. Chinese authorities have explained measures at Larung Gar partly in terms of safety, overcrowding and administrative management, while human-rights organisations have regarded their scale and character as severe restrictions upon Tibetan religious life.

A monastery, however, is rarely only a physical structure. It is a repository of memory, scholarship, ritual and community. It is one of the institutional spaces through which knowledge passes from one generation to another. When the autonomy of such institutions is curtailed, what is potentially at stake is therefore not simply control over buildings or land but the ability of a civilization to preserve and reproduce its intellectual and spiritual inheritance.

This brings us directly to the subject of our seminar: why should the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama become a geopolitical issue at all? Reincarnation belongs fundamentally to the religious universe of Tibetan Buddhism. Yet the future succession of the Dalai Lama has become a matter of political contestation because two different conceptions of authority confront one another. The 14th Dalai Lama has reaffirmed that the institution will continue and has assigned responsibility for recognising his future reincarnation to the Gaden Phodrang Trust, acting according to Tibetan Buddhist traditions. Beijing maintains a fundamentally different position, asserting that the reincarnation must comply with Chinese law and procedures involving state approval.

The resulting paradox is difficult to overlook: a Communist Party-state grounded officially in an atheist ideological tradition claims regulatory authority over the reincarnation of Buddhist spiritual leaders. Dr. Sangay’s explanation of this apparent contradiction was one of the most thought-provoking parts of his lecture. His argument was that Beijing is less interested in the theology of reincarnation than in the institutional authority represented by the office of the Dalai Lama.

For millions of followers, the Dalai Lama derives authority from a centuries-old religious tradition. From the perspective of statecraft, however, that same institution possesses a form of transnational influence that cannot easily be created through administrative power. The spiritual influence associated with the Dalai Lama extends beyond Tibet into the wider Himalayan Buddhist world, including regions such as Ladakh and Arunachal Pradesh in India and communities in Nepal, Bhutan, Mongolia and elsewhere. Sangay therefore argued that controlling the succession process could provide Beijing with an opportunity to influence the institution itself. In his words, the objective is to “control the office of the Dalai Lama.”

There is a larger lesson here about the nature of power. Students of International Relations are accustomed to understanding power through armies, economies, technology, territory, and material capabilities. Yet legitimacy itself is a form of power. Religious institutions, cultural memory and civilizational authority can transcend political boundaries in ways that armies cannot. A government may appoint an official, but it cannot automatically manufacture spiritual acceptance among believers.

If, after the present Dalai Lama, two competing processes eventually produce rival claimants, one recognised through the Tibetan Buddhist process identified by the present Dalai Lama and another approved by Beijing, the resulting contest could extend far beyond two individuals. It would potentially become a contest over religious legitimacy, Tibetan identity and political authority, with consequences throughout the Himalayan Buddhist world. The geopolitics of reincarnation is therefore, at its deepest level, also a geopolitics of legitimacy.

It was in this context that Dr. Sangay connected the Dalai Lama question with what has popularly become known as China’s “Five Fingers” strategy. According to this metaphor, Tibet constitutes the palm of a hand, while Ladakh, Nepal, Sikkim, Bhutan and Arunachal Pradesh constitute its five fingers. Sangay related this strategic imagination to developments such as Doklam, Galwan and continuing Chinese claims concerning Arunachal Pradesh.

An important qualification is necessary. The formulation is frequently attributed to Mao Zedong, but its documentary provenance is disputed. Interestingly, Dr. Sangay himself acknowledged during his address that one cannot readily identify an official speech or document in which Mao articulated the doctrine precisely in these terms. Recent academic scholarship has similarly questioned whether a formally articulated Maoist “Five Fingers strategy” ever existed. Serious academic writing must distinguish between a useful geopolitical metaphor and a historically authenticated state doctrine.

Yet uncertainty about the phrase does not make the underlying geography irrelevant. Tibet occupies an extraordinary strategic position overlooking the Himalayan arc. Ladakh, Nepal, Bhutan, Sikkim and Arunachal Pradesh possess very different histories and political circumstances and cannot simply be grouped together. Nevertheless, China's relations, territorial disputes and strategic activities across the Himalayan region make the geography itself worthy of sustained attention.

Sangay went further. China, he argued, now possesses substantial economic, political or strategic influence beyond the traditional “five fingers,” including in Pakistan, Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and the Maldives. With characteristic rhetorical flourish, he described the contemporary environment as one of “ten fingers.” This too should be understood as Sangay’s geopolitical metaphor, not as an officially declared Chinese strategy. Yet the question behind it deserves reflection: as Chinese influence expands across India's continental and maritime neighbourhood, how should India conceptualise the changing strategic environment around itself?

Perhaps the most important observation Sangay made that morning was also one of the simplest: if one wants to understand China, one must understand Tibet. I found myself returning repeatedly to this statement. India has understandably invested considerable intellectual energy in studying China from the perspective of Beijing that includes its Communist Party, economy, military, foreign policy and global ambitions. But perhaps India also needs to understand China from the Himalayas inward.

Tibet offers a vantage point from which borders, water, culture, religion, security and state power converge. Yet Tibetan studies remain far less prominent in Indian academic institutions than their strategic significance would warrant. During his lecture, Dr. Sangay suggested that institutions such as the University of Delhi should devote greater academic attention to Tibetan studies. For students of Political Science and International Relations, such study would hardly be antiquarian. Tibet brings together almost every major theme of our discipline: sovereignty and autonomy, power and legitimacy, territory and identity, ecology and security, religion and politics, civilization and statecraft.

As I reflected upon the seminar afterwards, I realised that our title, “The Geopolitics of the Dalai Lama’s Reincarnation”, contained within it a much larger question: Who has the right to preserve and interpret a civilization? Can political authority manufacture religious legitimacy? Can a modern state determine the succession of a spiritual institution when the community of believers locates that authority elsewhere? And what happens when an institution developed through centuries of religious tradition becomes entangled in the strategic calculations of powerful states?

My own conviction is that religious communities ought to enjoy the space to preserve their traditions and institutions without coercive political interference. Tibet reminds us that the survival of a civilization cannot be measured merely through control over territory. Civilizations live through languages, monasteries, texts, rituals, teachers and collective memories. And, above all, through the freedom of one generation to transmit its inheritance to the next. This is why the autonomy of religious institutions matters and why the question of the Dalai Lama’s reincarnation cannot be dismissed as an obscure theological controversy.

It is also why Tibet matters so profoundly to India. It matters because of the Himalayas and India's security; it matters because of rivers, glaciers and ecology; and it matters because a significant part of Tibet’s religious and intellectual inheritance grew from an ancient civilizational dialogue with India. Understanding Tibet need not imply hostility towards China, nor should scholarship become a substitute for diplomacy. It means recognising realities that geography and history have placed before us. Dialogue is indispensable in international relations, but dialogue is strengthened, not weakened, by historical awareness, cultural literacy, ecological knowledge and strategic clarity.

The seminar at Shyam Lal College began for me as an academic initiative undertaken in my responsibility as Teacher-in-Charge of the Department of Political Science. It ended as a deeper reflection on the relationship between power and civilization. The unexpected response to Sangay’s lecture after I uploaded it online only reinforced that impression. A discussion that began inside a college auditorium travelled within days to thousands of viewers. Perhaps that response itself tells us something: despite the enormous changes in world politics, Tibet has not disappeared from public consciousness.

Dr. Lobsang Sangay’s address reminded us that the future of the Dalai Lama cannot be understood simply by asking who will be recognised as his reincarnation. Behind that question lies another: who will possess the legitimacy to make that recognition meaningful? Behind even that lies the larger question of Tibet itself, its people, its monasteries and religious traditions, its glaciers and rivers, its civilizational memory and its place in the strategic geography of Asia.

Perhaps, therefore, Sangay’s proposition deserves to be remembered: to understand China, we must understand Tibet. I would add that to understand Tibet, we must look beyond political maps. We must understand its people and monasteries, its mountains and rivers, its religious traditions and civilizational memories. Only then can we comprehend why the succession of a Buddhist spiritual leader has become an issue of international politics, and why the future of Tibet remains inseparable from the geopolitics, ecology and civilizational future of the Himalayas.

Merit Morality and the Making of Viksit Bharat

 

“The destiny of India is now being shaped in her classrooms.” These memorable words of the Kothari Commission remain as relevant today as they were six decades ago. Classrooms, universities and examination halls are not merely places where knowledge is imparted and academic ability is assessed. They are spaces in which the future of the Republic is quietly shaped. The quality of education influences the quality of citizenship, while the credibility of examinations determines whether young citizens continue to believe in the fairness of public institutions.

India today stands at a historic juncture. As the nation moves towards the goal of Viksit Bharat by 2047, public discourse understandably focuses on economic growth, modern infrastructure, technological advancement, defence preparedness and India’s expanding global influence. These are indispensable dimensions of national development. Yet beneath these visible achievements lies another foundation that is less tangible but equally vital: the moral credibility of our institutions.

A nation does not become truly developed merely because its economy expands or its cities acquire impressive infrastructure. It becomes developed when ordinary citizens believe that honesty will be rewarded, merit will be respected and justice will be delivered without fear or favour. Institutional trust is among the most valuable forms of national capital. Once weakened, it cannot easily be restored.

 

The recurring controversies surrounding examination paper leaks and other irregularities must be understood in this wider context. For millions of young Indians, competitive examinations are not simply academic exercises. They represent hope, dignity, social mobility and the possibility of transforming the circumstances into which they were born. Across villages, tribal regions, small towns and cities, families sacrifice their limited resources to educate their children. Students devote some of the most productive years of their lives to preparation, believing that disciplined effort and ability will determine their future.

When an examination paper is leaked, therefore, it is not merely a confidential document that is compromised. The faith of students is violated. The sacrifices of parents are devalued, and the moral compact between the State and its young citizens is weakened.

Paper leaks should consequently not be treated as routine administrative lapses or ordinary criminal offences. They are organised assaults on merit. They allow manipulation to prevail over sincerity, influence over ability and dishonest privilege over perseverance. Their most damaging consequence may not be the cancellation of an examination or the postponement of recruitment. It is the message conveyed to honest students that integrity may not be sufficient for success.

Such a message is particularly dangerous for India, which rightly regards its youthful population as a demographic dividend. A large young population does not automatically become a national asset. It becomes an asset only when young people receive education, opportunities and a fair institutional environment in which their abilities can flourish. If they begin to believe that corruption and connections can routinely defeat merit, the demographic dividend can gradually turn into frustration, distrust and alienation.

The anxiety expressed by students must therefore be heard with seriousness and sensitivity. Today’s youth are more informed, connected and questioning than previous generations. They compare institutions, discuss public affairs on digital platforms and expect transparency from those exercising authority. Their impatience is sometimes criticised, but impatience is not always evidence of irresponsibility. It can also reflect the aspirations of a generation unwilling to accept institutional failures that earlier generations may have tolerated silently.

Young citizens who raise difficult questions are not necessarily hostile to the State. In a democracy, they often remind the State of its constitutional responsibilities. Governments do not become weaker by acknowledging deficiencies and correcting them. On the contrary, responsiveness enhances their legitimacy. The strength of a democratic institution lies not in its ability to avoid criticism but in its willingness to learn from it.

At the same time, democratic protest carries ethical responsibilities. The Constitution protects freedom of expression and peaceful assembly, but violence and the destruction of public property cannot be justified in the name of dissent. Buses, railway stations, educational institutions and government buildings do not belong to a political party or a particular government. They are national assets created through the contributions of ordinary citizens. Their destruction ultimately harms the society whose interests a protest claims to represent.

The State, too, bears a corresponding responsibility. Law-enforcement agencies must maintain public order with restraint, professionalism and constitutional sensitivity. A mature democracy requires citizens to protest peacefully, governments to listen patiently, opposition parties to act responsibly and the police to exercise authority proportionately. Democracy is strengthened when grievances lead to reform rather than confrontation.

Stronger laws against organised examination fraud and improved security arrangements are necessary. Those who leak papers, operate criminal networks or purchase unfair advantage must face swift and credible punishment. Yet legislation alone cannot solve what is ultimately also a moral and institutional problem. Laws can punish wrongdoing, but institutions must prevent it. Institutions, in turn, are shaped by the character of the individuals who lead them.

Technology can contribute substantially to examination security. Encrypted question papers, biometric verification, digital tracking, secure distribution systems and artificial intelligence may reduce opportunities for malpractice. But technology remains a tool; it cannot replace integrity. No software can manufacture moral courage, and no algorithm can create public trust. If those entrusted with safeguarding an examination are themselves compromised, even the most sophisticated system can be manipulated.

Appointments to examination authorities, recruitment agencies and regulatory institutions must therefore be based on competence, experience, impartiality and unimpeachable integrity. Public institutions cannot command confidence unless their leadership is considered worthy of confidence. India needs public servants whom neither the attraction of office nor the rewards of corruption can purchase.

This emphasis on character is deeply rooted in India’s civilisational understanding of education. The Indian tradition did not view education solely as a means of acquiring employment. Education was also a process of cultivating self-discipline, wisdom and social responsibility. The Taittiriya Upanishad exhorts students completing their education to speak the truth, practise righteousness and remain committed to learning. Knowledge was not separated from the ethical use of knowledge.

The Bhagavad Gita similarly assigns intrinsic value to sincere action rather than to success obtained by any means. Swami Vivekananda regarded education as the manifestation of the perfection already present within the human being and consistently placed character formation at its centre. Mahatma Gandhi insisted that noble ends could not justify impure means. Dr B. R. Ambedkar recognised education as an instrument of emancipation but also warned that constitutional democracy could not survive without constitutional morality. Pandit Deendayal Upadhyaya’s Integral Humanism likewise cautioned against reducing development to material prosperity alone. Although these thinkers emerged from different intellectual traditions, they converge on a fundamental truth: national progress cannot be sustained without character.

The responsibility for protecting merit does not rest with the government alone. Examination fraud survives through networks of willing participants: officials who betray confidentiality, intermediaries who organise transactions, coaching operators who seek unlawful advantage, candidates who purchase leaked papers and families that celebrate success without questioning the means through which it was obtained. If society condemns corruption only when others benefit from it but tolerates dishonesty when it serves personal interests, institutional reform will remain incomplete.

Educational institutions, teachers and parents must therefore help create a culture in which integrity is valued even when dishonesty appears profitable. The National Education Policy 2020 rightly emphasises holistic development, ethical reasoning, constitutional values and responsible citizenship. These goals should not remain confined to policy documents. Schools and universities must produce not merely successful professionals but citizens capable of strengthening the moral foundations of the Republic.

Political parties and the media also carry an important responsibility. Student anxieties should not be converted into instruments of political spectacle. The Opposition has a legitimate duty to expose institutional shortcomings and demand accountability. However, supporting students is different from inflaming their grievances for electoral gain. Similarly, governments must not dismiss every criticism as politically motivated. Responsible journalism must distinguish verified facts from allegations and illuminate public issues rather than deepen anger through sensationalism.

The vision of Viksit Bharat must ultimately be understood as more than an economic project. A developed India should be one in which the son of a farmer in Vidarbha, the daughter of a labourer in Bihar, a student from a tribal village in Bastar, an aspirant from Tamil Nadu and a young graduate from Uttarakhand all believe that their future depends upon their ability rather than their influence. It should be a nation in which honest effort carries greater value than dishonest advantage.

Roads, ports, airports and digital networks connect places, but ethical institutions connect citizens with the Republic. Character is the invisible infrastructure of a nation. Without character, institutions lose credibility; without credible institutions, democracy loses public trust; and without public trust, development loses its moral foundation.

India’s greatest strength is not merely its youth but the hope that resides within it. That hope persuades students to persevere, families to make sacrifices, researchers to innovate and citizens to participate in national life. A nation that protects this hope protects its future.

The choice before us is therefore profound. Will India become a country in which success can be purchased, or one in which success must be earned? Will influence continue to challenge integrity, or will character remain the highest qualification for public responsibility?

The answer will determine whether Viksit Bharat becomes merely an economic destination or a civilisational achievement. Only when every young Indian can confidently believe that honesty is not a disadvantage, merit is not negotiable and sincere hard work will never be rendered meaningless can India truly claim to have become a developed nation.

DUSU Elections: Let Our Universities Teach the Right Lessons in Democracy

Having taught at the University of Delhi for nearly a decade, I have witnessed the annual Delhi University Students’ Union (DUSU) elections from close quarters. Every year, as the election season approaches, campuses suddenly acquire a different energy. Students discuss candidates, organisations, issues and alliances; volunteers move from classroom to classroom; candidates introduce themselves to students whom they might otherwise never have met; and, for a few days, the university becomes an unusually vibrant political space.There is much about this that deserves to be celebrated.

Universities should not produce merely degree-holders. They should produce citizens capable of thinking, questioning, disagreeing, organising and participating in public life. Student unions can provide an institutional platform through which concerns regarding academic facilities, examinations, hostels, transportation, safety, accessibility, infrastructure and numerous other aspects of university life can reach the administration. Elections provide legitimacy to those who claim to speak on behalf of students.

More importantly, for thousands of young men and women, a university election may be their first direct encounter with democracy beyond simply casting a vote in a national or state election. Here they observe candidates, listen to arguments, question representatives, campaign for causes and sometimes contest elections themselves. They learn that leadership requires persuasion and that public office ultimately depends upon the consent of those one seeks to represent. In this sense, student politics can become a nursery of democratic leadership.

Many individuals who enter public life receive their earliest lessons in organisation, public speaking, negotiation and political mobilisation during their university years. There is nothing inherently objectionable about this. Indeed, a healthy democracy requires successive generations of politically conscious young citizens. The question, therefore, is not whether universities should have student elections. I believe they should. The more troubling question is: What kind of politics are we teaching through these elections?

When the Democratic Classroom Teaches the Wrong Lessons

If university elections are a student's first practical encounter with democracy, the methods through which these elections are fought become extraordinarily important. When young people discover that an election requires enormous expenditure, fleets of vehicles, extravagant displays of strength, thousands of printed materials, intimidation, defacement of public property, or the mobilisation of resources inaccessible to an ordinary student, we must ask ourselves what lesson they are taking from democracy. Are we teaching them that an election is a contest of ideas—or a demonstration of financial capacity? Are we teaching them that leadership means persuading fellow students—or displaying power? Are we teaching them that public property belongs to everybody—or that an election campaign gives one temporary licence to damage it? These questions go far beyond DUSU.

As a society, we frequently lament the influence of money and muscle in electoral politics. We speak of electoral reform, transparency, accountability and cleaner politics. Yet, if some of the very practices we criticise in national politics are reproduced in student elections, we risk normalising them at precisely the stage when young citizens are developing their understanding of political life. One cannot expect cleaner politics tomorrow while quietly accepting its opposite in the political education of today.

The Lyngdoh Committee: A Reform Agenda We Already Possess

These concerns are hardly new. Following directions of the Supreme Court, the Government of India constituted a committee under former Chief Election Commissioner J. M. Lyngdoh in 2006 to examine student union elections. Its recommendations subsequently acquired considerable importance in regulating university elections. The underlying philosophy of the recommendations remains remarkably relevant: student elections should remain democratic while also remaining genuinely student elections.

Among other safeguards, the framework places a ceiling of ₹5,000 on a candidate's election expenditure, requires submission of election accounts, places restrictions on printed campaign material and the use of vehicles, and lays down academic and attendance requirements for candidates. Delhi University's own election framework continues to incorporate these principles.

The Supreme Court has described the Lyngdoh Committee recommendations as “very salutary in nature” and reiterated that student elections should broadly be conducted in accordance with them.

The importance of the ₹5,000 expenditure ceiling lies not merely in the amount involved. Its underlying democratic principle is far more important: economic resources should not determine access to student leadership.

A university student from an ordinary family should be able to contest an election against a student from an affluent background without believing that the contest has already been decided by their respective financial capacities.

That is democratic equality in its most elementary form.

The Problem of Enforcement

Unfortunately, the existence of rules does not automatically create a democratic political culture.

The events surrounding DUSU elections in recent years have repeatedly brought this gap between rules and practice before the courts. During the 2024 elections, the Delhi High Court intervened over widespread allegations of defacement of public property. Counting of votes was delayed, and the Court subsequently required remedial action before permitting the process to proceed.

The issue has resurfaced dramatically during the 2026 DUSU elections. On September 18, the Delhi High Court expressed concern over reported violations involving vehicle cavalcades, weapons and other misconduct. The Court issued notices to 140 candidates, prohibited victory processions following the results and called upon the authorities to take action against violations. Delhi Police informed the Court that 49 vehicles had been impounded, more than 5,400 challans issued and four persons arrested in connection with election-related violations.

These developments should concern everyone associated with higher education, irrespective of which student organisation one supports.

The issue is not about one candidate, organisation or ideological persuasion. It is about the political culture our universities collectively permit.

Make Issues, Not Spectacle, the Centre of Elections

DUSU elections can become considerably more meaningful if we shift their centre of gravity from spectacle to debate.

Imagine an election in which candidates are primarily known for their positions on student issues: quality of teaching and learning, libraries, affordable accommodation, women's safety, accessibility for students with disabilities, mental well-being, sports facilities, public transportation, scholarships, examination reforms, digital infrastructure and opportunities for research and employment.

Why should the strength of a candidate be measured by the number of vehicles accompanying a procession? Why not by the strength of the manifesto?

Why should walls speak through posters when candidates themselves can speak through structured debates?

Delhi University possesses the intellectual resources to develop a much richer electoral culture. Colleges and departments could facilitate moderated candidate interactions. Manifestos could be placed on common digital platforms. Expenditure statements could be publicly accessible. Candidates could participate in issue-based debates. Students could question them directly about their promises.

Technology makes inexpensive campaigning easier today than it was when the Lyngdoh Committee submitted its report two decades ago. Social media, university portals, common digital noticeboards and officially organised debates can dramatically reduce the perceived need for expensive physical campaigning.

At the same time, enforcement must become credible. Rules that exist only on paper eventually undermine respect for rules themselves. Election authorities, university administrations, colleges, student organisations and candidates all have responsibilities. Violations should attract consequences that are predictable, timely and impartial.

Political Parties and Student Organisations Also Have a Responsibility

Student organisations, including those associated with larger ideological or political traditions, have contributed to political debate and mobilisation on Indian campuses for decades. The Delhi High Court recently reiterated that political parties themselves should not interfere in DUSU elections, while distinguishing such interference from a student's membership of a student organisation associated with a political tradition.

The larger responsibility, however, is cultural rather than merely legal.

Senior political organisations should resist the temptation to treat university elections as miniature versions of national electoral contests. Students require space to develop leadership organically. The purpose should be to identify articulate, socially sensitive and intellectually grounded young leaders—not merely those who can command the greatest resources or mobilise the largest spectacle.

Democracy Must Begin with Democratic Values

There is a larger paradox here.

We want our national politics to become cleaner, less dependent upon money and muscle, more transparent and more responsive to ordinary citizens. But such a political culture cannot suddenly emerge when a person reaches Parliament or a Legislative Assembly. Political habits are cultivated much earlier.

A university election is therefore not an insignificant annual campus event. It is an exercise in democratic socialisation.

The young student contesting an election today may become a legislator, minister, civil-society leader, academic, journalist, administrator or simply an engaged citizen tomorrow. The habits that we encourage at eighteen or twenty can shape attitudes towards public life for decades.

That is why I would never argue for the abolition of student elections merely because excesses occur during them. Doing so would amount to treating the symptom by eliminating an important democratic institution.

The answer to bad electoral practices is better electoral practices, not less democracy.

Let our students contest elections. Let them campaign passionately. Let them disagree. Let ideological traditions compete. Let them organise, debate and mobilise. Let them experience both victory and defeat.

But let them also learn that democracy has rules; that public property deserves respect; that political opponents are not enemies; that leadership does not require intimidation; and, above all, that an ordinary student without money or muscle possesses exactly the same democratic right to seek representation as someone backed by formidable resources.

If universities are indeed nurseries of democracy, the responsibility before us is greater than conducting elections successfully.

We must ensure that the democracy our students first encounter is the democracy we would eventually like India to become. 

Beyond the Religion Code : Tribal Traditions in the Civilizational Consciousness of Bharat

In recent years, the demand for a separate religion code for Bharatiya tribal communities has re-emerged in public discourse, particularly in the context of the national census. Its proponents argue that such a classification is necessary to preserve tribal identity and protect their belief systems. The arguments in favour of this demand, as they propose is that tribal communities deserve recognition, dignity, and the freedom to preserve their cultural heritage. However, the larger question is whether a separate religion code truly safeguards tribal traditions that are varied?  

The debate, therefore, extends far beyond a census column. It concerns the very manner in which Bharatiya experience understands religion, identity, and civilization. Unlike the Abrahamic traditions, the Bharatiya conception of dharma has never been confined to the authority of a single prophet, a single revealed scripture, or a centralized ecclesiastical institution. Bharatiya civilization evolved through countless streams of spiritual experience, local customs, sacred geographies, philosophical schools, and community traditions. Diversity was not merely tolerated; it was internalized as an intrinsic characteristic of Bharatiya civilizational life.

This distinctive civilizational framework explains why Bharat’s tribal traditions have never existed as isolated religious islands. Their worship of sacred groves, mountains, rivers, ancestral spirits, village deities, forests, and Mother Earth represents some of the oldest surviving expressions of the Bharatiya worldview. Nature reverence, ancestor worship, sacred landscapes, and community rituals are not alien to Bharatiya civilization. They constitute many of its earliest foundations. The attempt to construct an impermeable boundary between "tribal religion" and the broader Bhartiya civilizational tradition, therefore, deserves careful scrutiny.

A Civilizational, Rather Than a Colonial Lens

Much of the contemporary discourse on tribal identity continues to be influenced by colonial anthropology. Nineteenth-century European scholars attempted to classify societies into rigid evolutionary stages ranging from "primitive" to "civilized." Tribal communities across Asia, Africa, Australia, and Latin America were often viewed as relics of an earlier stage of human development, fundamentally separate from the so-called mainstream. These categories were subsequently applied to Bharat with little appreciation of its unique historical experience. The Bharatiya case, however, does not fit this colonial template.

In the case of North America, South America, or Australia, the indigenous peoples were physically segregated. They were forcefully pushed into separate reserved spaces and systematically excluded from the dominant social order. On the other hand, Bharat’s tribal communities have remained participants in an evolving civilizational ecosystem for millennia. They interacted continuously with neighbouring communities through trade, agriculture, pilgrimage, festivals, kinship networks, and cultural exchanges. While maintaining distinctive identities, they also contributed to a shared civilizational ethos.

It is precisely this historical experience that led eminent Bharatiya sociologists and anthropologists such as G. S. Ghurye, Nirmal Kumar Bose, S. C. Dube, and Surajit Sinha to challenge simplistic colonial binaries. Their scholarship demonstrated that the relationship between tribal and non-tribal communities in Bharat was shaped not merely by coexistence but by sustained cultural interaction, mutual accommodation, and gradual integration. Their work reminds us that Bharatiya anthropology cannot simply borrow categories developed elsewhere without considering Bharat’s own historical and cultural realities.

Diversity without Separation

One of the greatest strengths of Bharatiya civilization has been its remarkable ability to accommodate diversity without insisting upon uniformity. Across the country, tribal traditions illustrate this phenomenon. The Sarna traditions of Jharkhand, centred on the sacred sal grove, reflect an ancient reverence for nature that resonates with broader Bharatiya traditions of tree worship. The Donyi-Polo faith of Arunachal Pradesh venerates the Sun and the Moon, symbols that occupy an equally significant place in Vedic literature. Among the Bhils of western Bharat, forms of Shiva worship coexist naturally with local deities. Gond religious traditions seamlessly combine clan rituals, ancestor reverence, village deities, and wider Hindu practices.

These examples do not suggest homogeneity. Rather, they reveal a civilizational pattern where local traditions retain their uniqueness while participating in a larger cultural universe. Bharatiya civilization has never demanded theological uniformity as a condition for belonging.

Shared Sacred Geography

The cultural relationship between tribal and non-tribal communities is also reflected in Bharat’s shared sacred geography. Village deities, local guardian spirits, sacred forests, rivers, mountains, and seasonal festivals often transcend rigid social boundaries. Across central, eastern, and northeastern Bharat, numerous local shrines continue to be revered jointly by tribal and non-tribal communities.

Many tribal festivals are celebrated with neighboring rural communities, while several Hindu pilgrimage traditions preserve memories of tribal participation and guardianship. The Jagannath tradition of Odisha, for instance, remains one of the most visible illustrations of the historical interaction between tribal traditions and mainstream temple worship. Such examples remind us that Bharatiya civilization has grown not by replacing local cultures but by accepting and honouring them. This process of cultural synthesis has been among Bharat’s greatest civilizational strengths.

The Freedom Struggles of Tribal India

History further demonstrates that tribal communities were never detached from Bharat’s broader national consciousness. The Santhal Hul of 1855, the Kol uprising, the Bhil movements, and Bhagwan Birsa Munda's Ulgulan and many freedom movements against the British colonial rule were undoubtedly struggles against oppression, economic exploitation, and cultural humiliation.

At the same time, it’s equally important to remember that the tribal movements against colonial rule represented the broader resolve of the Bharatiya people to preserve their civilizational fabric. Their fights against the British Raj cannot merely be confined to defending their jal, jangal, and zameen. Instead, they desired their traditions and their dignity within the larger civilizational landscape of Bharat. These movements cannot be reduced to isolated ethnic revolts.

Does a Separate Religion Code Solve Real Problems?

Supporters of a separate religion code often present it as an instrument of cultural preservation. However, the practical and conceptual questions suggest otherwise. Can hundreds of distinct tribal traditions, each with its own rituals, deities, cosmologies, and social institutions, realistically be grouped under a single administrative category called "tribal religion"? Would such a classification preserve diversity, or inadvertently lead towards homogeneity? The irony is difficult to ignore. A proposal advanced in the name of protecting diversity may end up replacing numerous living traditions with a single bureaucratic label.

The demand also diverts attention from challenges that continue to affect tribal communities far more directly. The issues related to educational opportunities, healthcare, and livelihood security.  Equally important are the issues of preservation of indigenous languages. The documentation of oral traditions and the protection of sacred landscapes. The implementation of constitutional safeguards and meaningful participation in development. All these aspects, in fact, are the core in relation to protecting tribal identity, existence, and development.

Administrative categorisation alone cannot address these concerns. The demand for a separate religion code, at most, is a negotiating tool for power brokers rather than addressing the real issues concerning tribal communities of Bharat.

Constitutional and Judicial Perspectives

Bharat’s constitutional framework has consistently recognised the pluralistic character of its religious traditions. The framers of the Constitution understood that the term "Hindu" often carried a broader civilizational meaning extending beyond narrow theological definitions. During debates surrounding Hindu law reforms, numerous traditions and communities were accommodated within a broad legal framework while retaining their distinct customs.

Judicial pronouncements have similarly acknowledged the exceptional diversity of the Hindu tradition. In Shastri Yagnapurushdasji v. Muldas Bhudardas Vaishya (1966), the Supreme Court famously observed that Hinduism does not rest upon a single founder, a single dogma, or a single religious text. Subsequent judgments reiterated its pluralistic and inclusive character.

These observations do not erase tribal distinctiveness. Rather, they underline the unique capacity of Bharatiya civilization to embrace diversity without demanding uniformity.

Beyond Colonial Categories

The etymology of terms like "animism" and "tribal religion" traces their origin to the colonial rule in Bharat. They were deliberately developed to create differences among Bharatiya communities living in hills, forests, villages, and towns. They are absolutely insufficient to understand Bharat’s civilizational complexity.

Today’s Bharat must be cautious about reproducing inherited colonial categories without critically examining their underlying politics. A decolonised understanding of tribal communities requires acknowledging their civilizational connectedness with the neighboring communities living in villages and towns.

The Way Forward

The preservation of tribal heritage is unquestionably a national responsibility. But preservation should not be confused with separation. The real priorities lie elsewhere: strengthening indigenous languages, documenting oral traditions, protecting sacred ecological landscapes, supporting tribal educational institutions, promoting traditional knowledge systems, safeguarding customary practices, ensuring effective implementation of constitutional protections, and enabling tribal communities to shape their own developmental future.

Civilizational unity has never required cultural uniformity.  Genius lies precisely in its ability to allow multiple identities to flourish within a shared civilizational framework. The tribal communities of Bharat are not peripheral to this civilization; they are among its oldest custodians. Their traditions are not "other religions" in any civilizational sense. They are living expressions of an ancient worldview that has shaped Bharat’s cultural imagination for thousands of years.

The debate on a separate religion code should therefore move beyond administrative classifications and political symbolism. It should instead encourage a deeper reflection on Bharat’s civilizational character, a civilization that has historically united diverse communities not through exclusion or homogenisation, but through cultural dialogue, mutual respect, and spiritual plurality. In preserving tribal traditions, Bharat must ensure that it does not unintentionally weaken the very civilizational unity that has enabled those traditions to survive across the centuries.

Jagannath Rath Yatra: A Living Testament to Bharat’s Tribal-Civilizational Heritage

 

Jagannath Rath Yatra in Puri and elsewhere in Bharat and other parts of the world is one of the most magnificent religious festivals of Hindus. Millions of devotees participate in this festival across the world. As a result, the world's attention naturally turns to it. Yet beyond the grandeur of the towering chariots, the chants of devotees, and the spiritual fervour lies a profound civilizational message. This aspect is something that deserves recognition. The Jagannath tradition reminds us that Bharat’s tribal communities have never stood outside the broader Hindu civilizational framework. Moreover, they have been among its indispensable custodians.

In other parts of the world, indigenous and settler populations evolved in opposition to one another. Bharat’s historical experience, however, has largely been one of interaction, coexistence, and cultural exchange. Communities inhabiting forests, villages, and towns continuously borrowed from one another's beliefs, rituals, and ways of life. This exchange created a shared civilizational ethos while retaining their distinctive identities. The Jagannath tradition stands as one of the finest living examples of this historical process.

The origins of Bhagwan Jagannath are intimately connected with the Shabara tribal tradition. According to the Skanda Purana, the Daitapati community of the Bhagwan Jagannath Mandir traces its lineage to the legendary Shabara king Vishvavasu. He was the devoted worshipper of Bhagwan Nilamadhava. This association is not merely symbolic. It continues to shape the ritual life of the Mandir even today. The role of the Daitapatis becomes especially significant during the annual Rath Yatra. They occupy a significant importance in the sacred rituals surrounding it.

The Daitapati community performs some of the temple's most sacred responsibilities, from the Snana Purnima ceremonies to the Anasara period. Snana Purnima marks the ceremonial purification of the deities, Bhagwan Jagannath, Balabhadra, and Subhadra, with 108 pots of sacred well water. This ritual initiates the 15-day seclusion (Anasara) where the gods symbolically rest before embarking on their famous chariot. The Daitapatis ceremonially bathes the deities, cares for them during Anasara, carries them onto the chariots, accompanies them throughout the procession, and oversees several important rituals associated with the festival.

At yet another important ritual called Navakalevara, loosely translated as "New Body", is held approximately every twelve to nineteen years. The Daitapati community plays an important role in this ritual. In this, the wooden idols of Bhagwan Jagannath, Balabhadra, Subhadra, and Sudarshana are replaced. It symbolises death and rebirth, and the cyclical nature of life. The Daitapatis exclusively lead the search for the sacred neem trees, supervise the carving of the new idols, perform the sacred transfer of the divine essence, and ceremonially inter the old images. This ritual highlights the enduring role of the Shabara tribal tradition in the Jagannath cult.

Many features of the Jagannath tradition also reflect practices long associated with tribal communities. The wooden images of Bhagwan Jagannath, Balabhadra, Subhadra, and Sudarshana. Their distinctive pillar-like forms. The periodic renewal of the deities through Navakalevara. The intimate familial relationship maintained between the Daitapatis and the deities. All these practices resonate with ritual traditions found among several tribal communities of eastern and central Bharat. These are not signs of separation but of centuries of shared cultural evolution.

This understanding is supported by several distinguished Bharatiya sociologists and anthropologists. Scholars such as G. S. Ghurye, N. K. Bose, Surajit Sinha, S. C. Dube, L. P. Vidyarthi, and K. S. Singh demonstrated that the relationship between tribal and non-tribal communities in Bharat has historically been characterised by interaction rather than rigid isolation. Their studies show that tribal societies were active participants in the making of Bharatiya civilization. They immensely contributed to its religious traditions, regional cultures, and social institutions while simultaneously adapting ideas from neighbouring communities.

This historical experience also distinguishes Bharat from the colonial histories of North and South America or Australia. Indigenous peoples on these continents were often displaced, segregated, or marginalised by settler societies. In Bharat, despite undeniable social and economic inequalities in different regions and periods, tribal communities continued to remain integral to the country's religious and cultural life. The Jagannath tradition itself illustrates this enduring continuity.

The gravest disruption came during British colonial rule. British Raj exploited tribal communities through the means of forest legislation, revenue settlements, and administrative interventions. These policies fundamentally altered the relationship between tribal communities and their forests, land, and customary institutions. The resulting alienation of jal, jangal, and zameen fuelled many tribal uprisings across the subcontinent. Independent Bharat consciously chose a different path. The Constitution recognised the distinct identity and rights of Scheduled Tribes from the very beginning. Later legislations such as the Panchayats (Extension to Scheduled Areas) Act, 1996, and the Forest Rights Act, 2006, further strengthened constitutional safeguards and community rights.

The Jagannath Rath Yatra therefore offers a timely reminder that Bharat’s unity has never depended upon uniformity. It has been built upon dialogue, mutual respect, and the continuous enrichment of one tradition by another. The participation of the Daitapati community is not a ceremonial relic preserved for historical curiosity. It is a living affirmation that tribal communities have been co-creators and custodians of Bharat’s civilizational heritage.

As the chariots of Bhagwan Jagannath roll through the streets of Puri and in other parts of Bharat, they carry not only the Lord of the Universe but also a timeless message. Bharat’s civilization has flourished because its forests, villages, and towns have never been isolated worlds. They have journeyed together, enriching one another across centuries. In celebrating Bhagwan Jagannath, Bharat also celebrates the enduring contribution of its tribal communities to the making of its shared civilizational identity.

India Is Biding Its Time: Strategic Patience in a Changing World Order

 

"The greatest victory is that which requires no battle." — Sun Tzu

Every major international crisis involving India today is accompanied by a familiar question: Why is India not playing the role of a global mediator? Whether during the Russia-Ukraine conflict, the Israel-Hamas war, or the recent Iran-Israel-United States confrontation, commentators have repeatedly argued that a country aspiring to become a leading global power should exercise greater diplomatic influence in shaping outcomes.

Such criticism, however, rests upon an assumption that every rising power must immediately seek visibility in every international crisis. History suggests otherwise. Rising powers often choose strategic patience over strategic activism. Their primary objective is not to dominate every diplomatic conversation. It's about strengthening their own national foundations before assuming wider global responsibilities. It is in this broader historical context that India's foreign policy deserves to be understood.

India's cautious diplomacy should not automatically be interpreted as indecision or lack of ambition. Rather, it may represent a conscious long-term strategy. It is aimed at preparing India for a world whose centre of gravity is gradually shifting from the Atlantic to the Indo-Pacific.

A Changing International Order

International politics rarely remains static. Since the end of the Second World War, global leadership has largely remained concentrated in the United States and Western Europe. The Bretton Woods institutions, NATO, the United Nations Security Council, and the liberal international economic order reflected this distribution of power. Today, however, that order is undergoing gradual transformation.

Scholars such as Kishore Mahbubani argue that the twenty-first century marks the "Asian Century," characterised by the economic resurgence of Asian civilizations. Parag Khanna similarly speaks of the emergence of a multipolar world in which Asia becomes the principal engine of global growth. While such projections remain contested and the transition is neither linear nor guaranteed, there is broad agreement among many analysts that Asia's economic and strategic importance has increased substantially over the past three decades.

India itself has become one of the fastest-growing major economies. It has emerged as a leading digital economy, a significant defence market, a trusted pharmaceutical supplier, and a major space power. It is increasingly becoming an important participant in global supply chains. Simultaneously, institutions such as the Quad, BRICS, the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation, the G20, and the Indo-Pacific strategic architecture reflect an evolving international landscape in which power is becoming more diffuse. In such circumstances, India's greatest strategic advantage may lie not in rushing to lead every crisis but in steadily strengthening its own capabilities.

The Cost of Strategic Overreach

The experiences of several Western powers over the past three decades illustrate the enormous costs associated with sustained military interventions. The interventions in Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, and Syria were undertaken with different objectives and under different legal and political circumstances. Supporters argued that these interventions addressed terrorism, weapons proliferation, or humanitarian crises. Critics, however, contend that many of these operations produced prolonged instability, weakened state institutions, displaced millions of civilians, and generated unintended geopolitical consequences for US-Europe and the world.

The military interventions by the United States and several European powers in Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, and Syria contributed significantly to the refugee crisis that followed. In response, many European countries admitted large numbers of displaced people on humanitarian grounds. While many refugees integrated peacefully, the integration process has also posed serious challenges. In some cases, radicalisation, cultural incompatibility, and identity politics have fuelled concerns over law and order, national security, and social cohesion in countries such as the United Kingdom, Germany, France, and several Scandinavian nations. These developments are likely to have lasting economic, political, and demographic implications for Europe.

It's pertinent to note that these developments do not imply the West's decline. The United States continues to possess unmatched military capabilities, technological leadership, financial influence, and an extensive alliance network. Yet they do suggest that even the most powerful states must carefully balance global commitments with domestic resilience.

China's Long Preparation

Perhaps no country illustrates the value of strategic patience more effectively than China. Following the death of Mao Zedong, Deng Xiaoping fundamentally reoriented Chinese strategy. His famous dictum, often paraphrased as "hide your strength and bide your time," did not advocate passivity. Instead, it emphasised concentrating national energies on economic modernisation while avoiding unnecessary geopolitical confrontation or making noise in every international situation.

China invested massively in manufacturing, infrastructure, education, ports, technology, and export competitiveness. Market-oriented reforms were introduced without abandoning its communist policies politically. Hundreds of millions were lifted out of poverty. Within four decades, China transformed itself into the world's second-largest economy and one of the principal centres of global manufacturing. Only after achieving substantial economic strength did China begin asserting itself more visibly through initiatives such as the Belt and Road Initiative, expanded naval capabilities, technological competition, and greater diplomatic activism.

Whether one agrees with China's contemporary policies or not, its developmental trajectory demonstrates that sustained national capacity often precedes geopolitical influence.

India's Distinct Path

India's journey is necessarily different. Unlike China, India is a vibrant constitutional democracy with a plural social structure, federal governance, independent institutions, and an open political system. Its developmental choices must therefore reconcile economic growth with democratic accountability.

India's foreign policy since independence has consistently emphasised strategic autonomy. Earlier expressed through non-alignment, this philosophy has gradually evolved into what many scholars describe as multi-alignment. India today maintains close strategic partnerships simultaneously with the United States, Russia, France, Japan, Israel, the Gulf countries, ASEAN, and Africa. Such diplomatic flexibility allows India to maximise opportunities without becoming overly dependent upon any single power bloc.

Far from indicating indecisiveness, this reflects sophisticated balancing behaviour suited to an increasingly multipolar world. India purchases defence equipment from multiple sources, participates in the Quad while remaining active in BRICS, strengthens relations with Israel while maintaining engagement with the Arab world, and continues longstanding defence cooperation with Russia while expanding strategic convergence with Western democracies. This balancing act requires restraint, credibility, and consistency.

Preparing for Leadership Through National Strength

India's current priorities appear increasingly centred upon strengthening the foundations of national power. Economic growth remains essential because no country has sustained global influence without a strong productive economy. India has been emphasizing on infrastructure development through highways, ports, airports, dedicated freight corridors, logistics networks, and digital public infrastructure. Thorough such initiatives, it seeks to enhance long-term competitiveness.

Defence modernisation has accelerated significantly through indigenous manufacturing, missile development, naval expansion, aerospace capabilities, cyber preparedness, and defence reforms. Indigenous programmes under Atmanirbhar Bharat increasingly seek to reduce dependence on imported military equipment.

The experience of Operation Sindoor demonstrated improvements in India's military preparedness and technological capabilities while also highlighting the importance of continued modernisation. Although every military operation has its own unique context and should be evaluated carefully, India's growing emphasis on self-reliance in defence reflects broader strategic thinking. Simultaneously, India's diplomatic initiatives ranging from vaccine assistance during the COVID-19 pandemic to humanitarian relief operations and evacuation missions, have strengthened its reputation as a responsible stakeholder. These developments suggest that India is investing first in comprehensive national capability rather than symbolic global activism.

A Civilizational Foundation for Global Leadership

Unlike many modern states whose international identity emerged primarily from military expansion, India's civilizational imagination has historically emphasised coexistence, dialogue, and shared prosperity. The Rig Veda offers a profound expression of this worldview:

संगच्छध्वं संवदध्वं

सं वो मनांसि जानताम्।

देवा भागं यथा पूर्वे

सञ्जानाना उपासते॥

Meaning move together; speak together; let your minds be united, just as the ancient gods shared their sacred offerings in harmony. This verse represents more than spiritual philosophy. It reflects an enduring political ethic that values consensus over coercion. Similarly, the Mahā Upanishad's celebrated ideal, "वसुधैव कुटुम्बकम्," meaning the world is one family, has increasingly informed India's contemporary diplomatic messaging.

Sceptics may dismiss such concepts as rhetorical. Yet ideas matter in international politics. Harvard scholar Joseph Nye argues that soft power is the ability to shape preferences through attraction rather than coercion. This forms an increasingly significant component of national influence. India's democratic institutions, civilizational heritage, yoga, Ayurveda, cultural diversity, diaspora, technological achievements, and humanitarian diplomacy together constitute important elements of its growing soft power. If supported by sustained economic and military capabilities, these civilizational values could become an important source of India's global legitimacy.

The Challenges That Cannot Be Ignored

Strategic patience alone does not guarantee national success. India faces formidable internal challenges. Employment generation for its expanding youth population remains critical. Manufacturing competitiveness must improve significantly if India wishes to become a genuine alternative in global supply chains. Educational quality, research capacity, judicial efficiency, urban governance, agricultural productivity, and technological innovation require continuous improvement.

Income inequality also demands careful attention. Rapid economic growth must translate into broader social mobility. Development that excludes substantial sections of society cannot sustain long-term national power. Climate resilience, energy security, water management, and demographic transitions will further shape India's future. History repeatedly demonstrates that great powers rise not merely because of military strength but because they successfully address internal governance challenges.

Looking Towards Viksit Bharat@2047

India's aspiration of becoming a developed nation by 2047 represents more than an economic objective. It reflects an attempt to transform national capacity across multiple sectors that include economic, technological, military, institutional, and civilizational.

Whether India ultimately becomes one of the world's leading powers will depend less upon dramatic diplomatic interventions and more upon disciplined domestic transformation. There will undoubtedly be occasions when India must assume greater international leadership, mediate conflicts, shape regional security, and contribute more actively to global governance. As its capabilities expand, expectations from the international community are also likely to increase. But enduring leadership cannot be improvised during crises. It must be patiently constructed over decades. Perhaps, therefore, India's current foreign policy should not be interpreted as silence. It may instead represent preparation.

Like every great civilisation that has experienced renewal, India recognises that the strongest voice in international politics belongs not merely to the nation that speaks the loudest during every conflict. It belongs to the nation that patiently builds comprehensive national strength before seeking to shape the future of the international order.

If India continues to modernise its economy, deepen technological innovation, strengthen national security, reduce social inequalities, empower its young population, and remain anchored in its civilizational ethos of dialogue and coexistence, it will not merely participate in the emerging world order but it will help define it. The decades ahead may well reveal that India's greatest strategic decision in the early twenty-first century was not speaking on every global crisis, but quietly preparing itself for a larger historical role.