Hugs, Headlines, and Hollow Promises: Modi’s Failing Foreign Policy

Elyas Muhammad Thumbe

In 2014, Narendra Modi arrived in power riding a wave of majoritarian fervor and political spectacle, projecting himself as the architect of a “New India” that would assert itself on the global stage. Backed by a powerful media machinery and a tightly controlled narrative, his government promised to reshape not only India’s internal politics but also its place in the world. What followed was a decade of foreign policy driven more by optics than substance, by populist slogans rather than strategic depth. From alienating neighbors and mishandling regional crises to failing on global forums and shrinking moral credibility, Modi’s diplomatic track record has exposed the widening gap between the fantasy of a Vishwaguru and the reality of an increasingly isolated nation.

But ten years later, the illusion of diplomatic strength is increasingly difficult to uphold. What was once praised as assertive and bold now appears brittle and performative. The self-styled doctrine of strategic autonomy has devolved into erratic positioning—neither principled nor pragmatic. Modi’s foreign policy, far from elevating India’s status, has revealed deep and widening fissures: fractured ties with neighbors, deteriorating credibility in multilateral forums, and a steady erosion of global moral capital.

Behind the handshakes and stage-managed summits lies a litany of strategic failures and squandered opportunities. From the botched handling of Pakistan and the alienation of Bangladesh and Nepal, to the loss of influence in the Maldives and Sri Lanka, India’s regional leadership has steadily declined. Globally, New Delhi has found itself increasingly out of step—on Palestine, on human rights, and on multilateral diplomacy—isolated even in moments when global consensus has moved forward.

This is not a matter of perception—it is a matter of consequence. For a country equipped with one of the largest diplomatic networks and a vibrant global diaspora, the Modi government’s record on foreign policy is not merely disappointing—it is damaging. What was promised as a new era of global leadership has, instead, delivered India to a position of strategic vulnerability, diplomatic inconsistency, and diminishing international trust.

Pakistan: The Illusion of Isolation
Few themes have defined Modi’s foreign policy posture more than his hardline stance against Pakistan. With each terror attack or diplomatic slight, came the refrain: India will isolate Pakistan globally. Following the April 2025 Pahalgam attack that killed 26 civilians, the Modi government launched Operation Sindoor—a coordinated diplomatic push to corner Islamabad. Dossiers were sent to 33 global capitals, accusing Pakistan of sheltering terror networks and sponsoring cross-border militancy.

Yet, by June 2025, India found itself on the losing side of the narrative. Not only did Pakistan secure crucial positions at the United Nations—Vice-Chair of the Counter-Terrorism Committee and Chair of the Taliban Sanctions Committee—it also garnered fresh financial lifelines. The IMF extended a $1.023 billion tranche, and the Asian Development Bank followed with another billion. Both came despite India’s behind-the-scenes lobbying to block these flows. The symbolic turning point arrived when U.S. President Donald Trump, now a critical influence in America’s foreign policy debate, hosted Pakistan’s Army Chief General Syed Asim Munir for a formal lunch. At the event, CENTCOM chief General Kurilla described Pakistan as a “phenomenal counterterrorism partner.” It was a moment of severe embarrassment for New Delhi.

For all its claims, India failed to have Pakistan declared a state sponsor of terror, secure sanctions through the UN Security Council, or even keep it diplomatically cornered. On the contrary, Pakistan used its strategic utility—particularly in managing the Taliban in Afghanistan, countering Islamic State-Khorasan Province, and balancing China’s interests in Central Asia—to reinvent its global relevance. India’s doctrine of punitive diplomacy proved hollow. Far from isolating Pakistan, Modi’s policy simply reinforced its utility in global power calculus.

A Neighborhood in Revolt
Nowhere is the collapse of India’s strategic coherence more apparent than in South Asia. Modi’s much-publicized “Neighborhood First” policy has failed to prevent a slow but steady drift of regional partners away from New Delhi’s orbit. From Dhaka to Kathmandu, Maldives to Colombo, India finds itself increasingly isolated, distrusted, or overshadowed by China.

Bangladesh: A Widening Rift
Once considered a steadfast partner, Bangladesh has grown wary of India’s internal political discourse. Statements by BJP leaders accusing Dhaka of failing to stop “illegal immigration” and harboring militant groups like ULFA have irked the Bangladesh government. The claim that over 20 million illegal Bangladeshi migrants live in India has been dismissed outright by Bangladesh, which has accused India of stoking anti-Muslim, anti-Bengali hysteria for electoral gains.

The construction of the India-Bangladesh Fence—an unfinished project dating back to 2002—has come to symbolize the hardening of borders, not bonds. In the meantime, Dhaka has expanded economic and defense cooperation with China, further eroding India’s influence. Projects like the Padma Bridge and a deep-sea port in Payra now feature Chinese contractors and financing—leaving India sidelined.

Nepal: Strategic Neglect
India’s relationship with Nepal has historically been underpinned by cultural affinity, open borders, and defense cooperation. That trust has now eroded. The 2015 blockade, widely seen in Nepal as Indian retribution for Kathmandu’s new constitution, triggered a wave of nationalist sentiment. The 2020 border map controversy, where Nepal included Lipulekh, Kalapani, and Limpiyadhura as part of its sovereign territory, marked another low.

In 2025, when reports surfaced of alleged Chinese encroachments in Nepal’s northern frontier, Modi remained a passive observer. Beijing, meanwhile, has stepped in with road construction, border infrastructure, and soft loans. Modi’s repeated failures to visit Kathmandu or offer strategic alternatives have allowed China to entrench itself in Nepal’s economy and political establishment. For a country that was once within India’s sphere of influence, Nepal today is more confident in Beijing’s promises than New Delhi’s friendship.

Sri Lanka and Maldives: Losing the Maritime Front
India’s two critical island neighbors in the Indian Ocean have also drifted away. In Sri Lanka, despite high-profile visits and emergency financial support during the 2022 debt crisis, India has been unable to prevent Colombo from deepening ties with Beijing. Chinese port projects, including Hambantota and Colombo Port City, continue to define Sri Lanka’s infrastructure narrative. India’s developmental projects, though well-intentioned, suffer from bureaucratic delays and political suspicion.

In the Maldives, the 2023 election of Mohamed Muizzu on an “India Out” campaign was a clear referendum on India’s growing military footprint. Modi’s silence as the Maldivian government forced Indian troops to withdraw and replaced bilateral cooperation with Chinese infrastructure deals underscored a painful truth—India’s influence is no longer taken for granted even in its maritime backyard.

The Canadian Crisis: A Relationship in Ruins
India’s relationship with Canada, once a stable and increasingly important one—both economically and in terms of the Indian diaspora—plunged into diplomatic chaos in mid-2023. The assassination of Hardeep Singh Nijjar, a Canadian citizen and a vocal advocate of Khalistan, sent shockwaves through Canada’s political establishment. When Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau took the extraordinary step of stating in Parliament that there were “credible allegations” linking Indian agents to the killing, the Modi government responded with furious denial and retaliatory diplomacy.

It was the kind of moment that could have been resolved quietly, through intelligence dialogue or mutual investigation. Instead, New Delhi chose an aggressive path—expelling Canadian diplomats, halting trade talks, and publicly accusing Ottawa of harboring terrorists. Indian media, predictably aligned with Modi government narratives, framed Trudeau’s actions as electoral pandering to Sikh voters. What was lost in the noise, however, was the long-term damage done to a bilateral relationship that had taken decades to build.

But this wasn’t an isolated incident. It was the violent climax of a simmering conflict between vocal Sikh diaspora groups and an increasingly aggressive ecosystem of Hindu right-wing networks abroad— openly aligned with the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), the ideological parent of the ruling BJP. In cities like Brampton, Vancouver, and Toronto, these tensions had been building for years. Hindu extremist organizations in Canada, had begun challenging pro-Khalistan rallies, tearing down posters, and staging counter-mobilizations. Sikh groups, in turn, accused them of importing Hindutva chauvinism into the multicultural Canadian fabric.

By 2025, the consequences were impossible to ignore. The Early Progress Trade Agreement (EPTA)—a framework seen as a stepping stone to deeper trade cooperation—was abandoned. Diplomatic channels remained frozen. Canada began diversifying its student intake from India to other countries amid warnings of “unpredictable visa delays.” The over 230,000 Indian students in Canada—a pillar of cultural and economic exchange—became pawns in a geopolitical standoff. Worse still, the Indian diaspora, especially Sikhs, felt increasingly targeted.

India’s refusal to cooperate fully with Canadian law enforcement—despite mounting pressure from its closest Western allies in the Five Eyes intelligence network, including the United States, the United Kingdom, and Australia—worsened its international standing. For a government that has spent a decade marketing itself as a trusted partner of the West, especially in forums like the G7 and Quad, the diplomatic fallout was both embarrassing and consequential.

The clearest indication of this reputational damage came during the preparations for the 2025 G7 Summit hosted by Canada. In a break from tradition, Prime Minister Narendra Modi was not extended an early invitation to attend as a special guest, despite India having been a recurring invitee in previous summits under both G7 and G20 outreach frameworks. The delay was widely read in diplomatic circles as a quiet rebuke by Canada—and a reflection of unease among other Western powers about India’s approach to human rights, dissent, and extraterritorial operations.

Modi’s government, which had long prided itself on photo-ops with Western leaders and sought to position India as a bridge between the Global South and the industrialized world, found itself on the margins of a major international platform. A crisis that could have been resolved through restrained diplomacy and institutional cooperation had instead spiraled into a symbol of India’s shrinking diplomatic room and growing international skepticism.

West Asia: A Tightrope Turned Noose
Nowhere has the Modi government’s foreign policy shift been more stark—or more morally jarring—than in West Asia. For decades, India stood firmly with the Palestinian people, not just as a matter of diplomatic positioning but as a principled stance rooted in anti-colonial solidarity. From Nehru to Vajpayee, successive governments upheld the Palestinian right to statehood, opposing Israel’s occupation and illegal settlements while building ties with Arab nations that were essential to India’s energy security and expatriate economy.

India was among the earliest non-Arab countries to recognize the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) as the legitimate representative of the Palestinian people. In 1988, India officially recognized the State of Palestine. Leaders like Yasser Arafat enjoyed warm ties in New Delhi. Even after establishing full diplomatic relations with Israel in 1992, India continued to vote in favor of Palestine at the United Nations, provided humanitarian aid to Gaza, and called consistently for a two-state solution.

This careful balancing—rooted in moral clarity and strategic prudence—was upended under Narendra Modi. His 2017 visit to Israel marked a dramatic shift, not only in optics but in policy. It was the first-ever visit by an Indian prime minister to Tel Aviv, and it broke with decades of precedent. Notably, Modi did not visit Ramallah, the de facto Palestinian capital—a move widely interpreted as symbolic abandonment of the Palestinian cause.

This so-called “dehyphenation” policy—treating relations with Israel and Palestine separately—was presented as pragmatic realism. In reality, it signaled India’s increasing tilt toward Israel, driven by deepening defense and surveillance ties. Israeli arms and technology—ranging from drones and radar systems to Pegasus spyware—became central to India’s security infrastructure. Political rhetoric shifted too: Modi’s BJP leaders openly celebrated ties with Netanyahu’s hard-right government, while expressions of support for Palestinian rights became more muted, bureaucratic, and reactive.

The result was a diplomatic posture that appeared transactional and cynical. This became painfully evident during the 2023–25 Gaza war, where more than 55,000 civilians were killed under relentless Israeli bombardment. Countries like Colombia and Bolivia cut diplomatic ties with Israel. India, however, offered only vague condemnations and calls for restraint, while continuing defense purchases and intelligence cooperation with Tel Aviv. Modi condemned the Hamas attack of October 7, 2023, but stopped short of condemning the disproportionate Israeli response or supporting ceasefire resolutions early on. Humanitarian aid pledges were modest, and diplomatic engagement with Palestinian leadership was minimal.

This shift did not go unnoticed. Arab states, long comfortable with India’s principled neutrality, began to voice discomfort. Nations like Qatar, Jordan, and Kuwait summoned Indian envoys to express concern. India’s large Muslim population, particularly in Kerala, Delhi, and Hyderabad, erupted in protests. The credibility India once enjoyed in West Asia—as a nation that stood for justice and post-colonial dignity—was diminished.

Worse, India’s stance threatened the very economic and strategic interests it claimed to protect. Millions of Indian workers in the Gulf watched in dismay as their government remained silent on war crimes. West Asian energy suppliers began exploring deeper ties with China, which unambiguously backed Palestine. And the India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor (IMEC), announced with fanfare at the G20 summit, became tenuous amid regional instability and New Delhi’s diplomatic passivity.

In June 2025, the region erupted as Israel launched airstrikes on Iran’s nuclear sites, prompting retaliatory missile barrages and a regional escalation not seen since the U.S. invasion of Iraq. India, heavily reliant on Iranian oil and the strategic Chabahar Port, suddenly found its economic and security interests threatened. India’s reaction was muted. It neither condemned the Israeli strikes nor offered meaningful mediation. This silence alienated Iran—once a cornerstone of India’s West Asia outreach. Simultaneously, India failed to reassure Arab allies, many of whom viewed Israel’s actions in Gaza and Iran as aggressive and destabilizing.

This ambiguity satisfied neither side. Arab nations—where millions of Indian workers live and from which India sources over 60% of its crude oil—began to view New Delhi as morally compromised and diplomatically unreliable. Israel, meanwhile, expected stronger, more vocal backing from what it considered a “strategic partner.” The result was stark: India lost its moral credibility without gaining strategic depth. In trying to appease both Tel Aviv and Tehran, Washington and Riyadh, Modi’s India ended up satisfying none. The once-principled legacy of Indian diplomacy in West Asia—rooted in moral clarity, multilateral engagement, and bridge-building—now lies in ruins. Modi’s brand of realpolitik has left India without allies in crisis, without leverage at the table, and without the moral standing it once commanded in a region that had long trusted its voice.

Turkey and the Islamic Bloc: Strategic Misreading
Another underreported but strategically significant failure has been India’s souring ties with Turkey. President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan has emerged as a vocal critic of India’s domestic policies, especially in Kashmir and regarding Indian Muslims. Turkey’s increasing closeness to Pakistan—through joint military exercises, defense pacts, and rhetorical support at the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (OIC)—has challenged India’s regional calculations.

Instead of opening channels of dialogue, the Modi government has treated Turkey as an ideological rival. In June 2025, Modi’s visit to Cyprus was seen as an attempt to counter Ankara’s influence by aligning with its historic enemy. But these symbolic moves failed to dent Turkey’s growing footprint in Central Asia and the Muslim world.

India’s larger problem with the OIC remains unresolved. Repeated calls for discussions on Kashmir—often sponsored by Pakistan and supported by Turkey—have dented India’s long-claimed insulation from international scrutiny on its internal matters. This was a shift from the era of diplomatic persuasion to that of avoidable confrontation.

China: The Dragon in the Room
If Pakistan is India’s declared adversary and Turkey a vocal critic, then China is the real challenge—economic, military, and geopolitical. Here, the Modi government has perhaps failed most dramatically.

After the bloody Galwan Valley clash in June 2020, in which 20 Indian soldiers died, there was hope that India would recalibrate its China strategy. That never happened. In the years since, China has fortified positions across the Line of Actual Control (LAC), expanded road infrastructure, and quietly entrenched itself in territory India once patrolled with confidence.

Despite rounds of military and diplomatic talks, there has been no return to the pre-2020 status quo. By 2025, China had made strategic gains in Ladakh while continuing encroachments in Arunachal Pradesh. Modi’s silence on these incursions—coupled with his lack of visits to the border—speaks volumes about India’s diplomatic paralysis.

Meanwhile, China’s economic and political footprint across South Asia has only grown. The China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) continues apace, despite Indian objections. Chinese-funded megaprojects in Bangladesh, Nepal, Sri Lanka, and the Maldives have turned the region into an extended arena of Beijing’s influence. India’s attempts to counter this with soft loans or cultural diplomacy have been outmatched by the speed and scale of Chinese engagement.

The bigger strategic failure lies in India’s dependence on multilateral groupings—such as the Quad and BRICS—where China plays both adversary and co-member. India’s inability to leverage these platforms to press its concerns only reveals the contradictions of Modi’s foreign policy vision.

Human Rights and the Erosion of Credibility
At the core of India’s diplomatic decline lies a more uncomfortable truth: the Modi government’s domestic assault on pluralism, civil liberties, and minority rights has fatally undermined the country’s global credibility. Beneath the rhetoric of democracy and development, India has witnessed a systematic campaign to rewrite the constitutional idea of secularism—and it has not gone unnoticed abroad.

Since 2014, Muslims, Christians, and other minorities have been relentlessly targeted—through legislation, mob violence, institutional discrimination, and hate speech, much of it amplified or endorsed by those in power. Cow vigilante lynchings, once considered fringe brutality, have become disturbingly routine in BJP-ruled states. Muslims transporting cattle have been killed in broad daylight; attackers are garlanded by ministers, and police cases often filed against the victims’ families.

Legal instruments, too, have been weaponized. Anti-conversion laws, enacted or strengthened in multiple states, have criminalized interfaith marriages and prayers, especially targeting Muslims and Christians under the fabricated specters of “love jihad” and “forced conversions.” Simultaneously, bulldozer justice—the extrajudicial demolition of homes and mosques—has emerged as a visual symbol of anti-Muslim state vengeance, bypassing courts and due process entirely.

In 2019, the Modi government enacted the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA)—granting fast-tracked Indian citizenship to refugees from neighboring countries, but pointedly excluding Muslims. Combined with the proposed National Register of Citizens (NRC), the law sparked fears of mass disenfranchisement. Millions of Indian Muslims, particularly in Assam and Bengal, were branded as “illegitimate migrants”—a dangerous narrative that equated Muslim identity with foreignness. The state’s refusal to address these anxieties only reinforced the perception of an official drive to reduce Muslims to second-class status.

The same year, Article 370 was unilaterally abrogated in Jammu and Kashmir, the country’s only Muslim-majority state, followed by mass detentions, a communications blackout, and the stripping of local autonomy. The region has since been under de facto military control, with journalists arrested under anti-terror laws, and dissent criminalized as sedition.

At the legislative level, the Modi government has also moved to amend the Waqf Act, weakening protections over Muslim charitable endowments and opening the door for land grabs under the guise of redevelopment. Meanwhile, BJP leaders across states and at the Centre continue to vocally push for a Uniform Civil Code (UCC)—a move widely perceived by India’s Muslim and Adivasi communities as a targeted attack on their religious and cultural rights, despite being cloaked in the language of equality.

Beyond Muslims, Christians too have come under increasing attack. In Manipur, months of unchecked violence in 2023–2024 saw Christian tribal communities systematically targeted by armed mobs. Churches were torched, villages razed, women raped, and over 60,000 people displaced. The state machinery either collapsed or colluded. Prime Minister Modi remained silent for weeks, even as survivors pleaded for accountability. His eventual remarks came only after international outcry.

Globally, the backlash has been sustained. Amnesty International was forced to shut operations in India after its accounts were frozen. Human Rights Watch, Reporters Without Borders, and the UN Special Rapporteurs have issued multiple warnings about India’s democratic backsliding. The U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom (USCIRF) has, for four consecutive years, recommended that India be designated a “Country of Particular Concern”—placing it alongside China, North Korea, and Iran. The European Parliament has passed resolutions on the Citizenship Amendment Act and Kashmir, while international universities and rights organizations have condemned India’s treatment of minorities, journalists, and activists.

The Modi government’s response to these concerns has been consistently hostile—accusing the West of colonial bias, invoking sovereignty to evade scrutiny, and branding critics as “anti-India.” Indian embassies now function less as diplomatic bridges and more as PR wings of the ruling party—defending the indefensible and discrediting dissent abroad.

But in diplomacy, perception shapes policy. And India’s global perception is deteriorating fast. The erosion of democratic norms, the surge in religious nationalism, and the normalization of hate speech have all rendered India less credible when it speaks of tolerance, sovereignty, or global leadership.

A nation that once proudly led the Non-Aligned Movement and championed anti-colonial justice now finds itself bracketed with authoritarian regimes in human rights reports. The world is watching—not with admiration, but with alarm.

Kashmir: The Unquiet Issue Returns
The Modi government’s long-standing assumption was that by altering the constitutional status of Jammu & Kashmir, it had “settled” the issue once and for all. That belief has been proven dangerously naive.

In recent years, Pakistan has skillfully revived Kashmir in global forums. The OIC has passed resolutions condemning Indian actions. At the UN, even nations that were once reluctant to engage have begun referencing Kashmir in their statements—albeit diplomatically. China continues to raise it at the UN Security Council in closed-door consultations, highlighting the fragility of India’s diplomatic grip on the matter.

Meanwhile, the ground situation in Kashmir remains volatile. Elections are repeatedly delayed, political leaders remain sidelined, and reports of human rights violations continue to emerge. International journalists are denied access, while domestic ones face surveillance, harassment, and even imprisonment. The Modi government’s refusal to allow open scrutiny, either through media or global institutions, has raised more questions than it has silenced.

The global diplomatic consequence is this: India no longer has control over the narrative on Kashmir. Instead of being seen as a confident nation integrating a restive province, it is viewed as a state using coercive power to suppress dissent.

India in Multilateral Forums: An Uneven Record
India’s ambition to be a global rule-maker, not just a rule-taker, was at the core of Modi’s foreign policy pitch. It sought permanent membership in the UN Security Council, took on greater roles in G20 deliberations, and pitched itself as the leader of the Global South. But ambition has often outpaced achievement.

At the United Nations, India’s bid for a Security Council seat remains stalled. Even as France and Russia back the proposal, resistance from China—and a lack of decisive lobbying in Africa and Latin America—have hampered progress. India’s abstentions on key votes—such as on the Russia-Ukraine war and Gaza ceasefires—have frustrated both Western allies and developing nations.

During India’s G20 presidency in 2023, the Modi government prioritized spectacle over substance—focusing on elaborate staging, promotional campaigns, and self-congratulatory messaging. But behind the fanfare, the summit produced little of lasting value. Key global challenges—such as vaccine equity, climate reparations, and debt relief for the Global South—were either sidelined or diluted into vague declarations. Rather than using the platform to champion marginalized voices and forge meaningful consensus, India’s leadership was marked by evasion and compromise, reinforcing its growing reputation as a country more concerned with optics than outcomes.

At the World Trade Organization (WTO), India’s protectionist stance on agriculture has placed it at odds with even traditional allies. On climate diplomacy, India often swings between victimhood and virtue-signaling—promising net-zero by 2070 while expanding coal-fired plants and diluting environmental regulations at home.

What remains is the image of a nation unsure of whether it wants to be a neutral power broker, a civilizational pole, or a hard-nosed nationalist player. That strategic confusion has cost India dearly in multilateral outcomes.

The Vishwaguru Illusion: An Empire Built on Optics
Perhaps the most defining—and damning—feature of Narendra Modi’s diplomacy is its obsession with performance over policy. Foreign relations under his watch have become a carefully choreographed spectacle: from exaggerated bear hugs with Western leaders, to stage-managed diaspora rallies abroad, to lavish summits drenched in nationalist iconography. It is diplomacy as television, governance as a media event.

Nowhere is this more evident than in Modi’s personal conduct on the world stage. At summits like the G7 or BRICS, where most heads of state speak in English or through formal translators, Modi often opts for Hindi—even when addressing leaders who do not understand it. What may be pitched as cultural pride ends up reinforcing the image of a provincial leader out of step with global protocol. Back home, the contrast becomes stark. In rallies across Bihar, Gujarat, or Madhya Pradesh, Modi delivers carefully crafted English sentences—read from a teleprompter—when addressing industrialists or global investors. The contradiction has not gone unnoticed. To many observers, these linguistic theatrics, awkward inflections, and mispronounced names have begun to paint a portrait not of strength, but of absurdity. Clips of such speeches frequently go viral—not as evidence of statesmanship, but as comic relief.

Diplomacy, however, is not theatre. It is negotiation, credibility, institutional memory, and strategic clarity. Modi’s approach has gutted the Ministry of External Affairs of its intellectual and professional independence. Seasoned diplomats have been sidelined in favor of ideological appointees. Foreign policy decisions are crafted less in South Block and more in the war rooms of electoral strategy, aimed at stoking nationalism rather than securing geopolitical advantage.

In the name of self-respect, India has stormed out of trade negotiations. In the name of sovereignty, it has refused to be held accountable for human rights abuses. In the name of pragmatism, it has courted autocrats and ignored war crimes. What remains is a foreign policy lurching between belligerent overconfidence and insecure retreat.

The myth of Vishwaguru—that India, under Modi, would lead the world with moral authority and civilizational depth—has collapsed under the weight of these contradictions. India today does not lead in development assistance, peacekeeping, technology, or climate leadership. It does not command multilateral reform, nor does it offer an alternative to Western or Chinese influence. While China expands its reach with chequebook diplomacy and the United States recalibrates alliances with strategic depth, India is left reacting—struggling to shape events it once claimed it would lead.

The result is a paradox: a country with undeniable potential, reduced to a prop in its own performance—led by a figure who, on the global stage, often cuts the figure not of a statesman, but of a solitary showman.

A Nation Adrift in a Fractious World
India’s foreign policy under Narendra Modi has not been one of strategic vision—it has been one of theatrical bluster, short-term gains, and long-term damage. The regime has wrapped diplomacy in slogans, chased headlines instead of outcomes, and substituted propaganda for policy. What it calls ambition has been arrogance. What it projects as strength has been insecurity dressed in nationalist bravado.

In its immediate neighborhood, India has alienated nearly every partner except Bhutan. In the Islamic world, it has lost moral standing by either justifying or ignoring ethnic cleansing and war crimes. In the West, it is increasingly viewed with suspicion—as a democracy in form but authoritarian in function. And in the Global South, the very bloc it claimed to lead, India’s voice is no longer credible—it has become transactional, hesitant, and hollow.

This is not the trajectory of a rising power. It is the regression of a republic consumed by the cult of a leader, where diplomacy is molded to serve domestic majoritarian politics rather than long-term national interest.

There is no evidence Modi’s government is capable—or even interested—in reversing this course. The very architecture of Indian diplomacy has been dismantled to serve the optics of one man. And the consequences will endure long after the photo-ops fade: eroded alliances, deepened regional mistrust, and a loss of international credibility that cannot be easily recovered.

The myth of Vishwaguru has collapsed. What remains is a cautionary tale—of a government that mistook applause for power, and of a nation that paid the price for believing the performance was real.