Opinion

Modi’s roar-turned-whimper at China border

What India and Indians need is an unambiguous account of Chinese aggression. What we get instead is deception, writes Ashok Swain

It’s so much easier to sway citizens into accepting a fake normal and let soldiers face the heat
It’s so much easier to sway citizens into accepting a fake normal and let soldiers face the heat 

Narendra Modi’s nationalism comes with skewed sonic boom: louder towards Pakistan and Bangladesh; quieter towards China. Chest-thumping with Pakistan and belittling Bangladesh have become public flexing of power-patriotism, while troubling developments involving China are wrapped in outright lies and reassuring diplomatic niceties.

The recent disclosure by the Indo-Tibetan Border Police chief that confrontations with Chinese troops continue in Arunachal Pradesh has, once again, exposed the distance between the government’s presentation of bilateral relations and the conditions that India’s border forces face.

The Pakistan comparison needs a qualification. Modi’s posture towards Pakistan has become somewhat quieter since the May 2025 ceasefire, which Trump claimed to have brokered through the threat of high trade tariffs. Modi has yet to convincingly counter Trump’s repeated claims of external mediation, which punctures the media-manufactured image of a leader in control of outcomes.

The comparison with China comes clearest in the preceding decade, when Pakistan and, to some extent, Bangladesh, particularly after Sheikh Hasina’s departure, dominated the government’s public displays of toughness.

ITBP director-general Shatrujeet Kapur has confirmed continuing face-offs at multiple locations. Tensions were reported around Asaphila in the Taksing Circle of Arunachal Pradesh since July, and went unacknowledged by the government.

In a vaguely worded statement, the foreign ministry has now (finally) acknowledged that friction occurs when Chinese troops depart from established patrolling patterns. These admissions hardly describe a settled frontier. Yet, the political leadership insists Indians celebrate improved relations with no clear explanation of what remains unsettled, what China is doing, and what India has secured or surrendered.

The soldiers’ courage in exceptionally difficult terrain makes the government’s evasiveness harder to defend. Indians should not have to cobble together an understanding of national security from scattered remarks by border security officers and complaints from locals in the border villages of Arunachal Pradesh.

A prime minister who boasts so frequently about the nation’s might owes the country an account of the challenges it faces, including those that might shatter his impregnable image even more than the Gen Z protests already have.

The warning signs did not begin in October 2026. In 2017, the Doklam confrontation, involving territory disputed between Bhutan and China near the tri-junction with India, demonstrated Beijing’s willingness to press territorial claims through construction backed by military force. The far graver crisis came in 2020, in eastern Ladakh.

On 15 June, 20 Indian soldiers, including Colonel B. Santosh Babu, died in the Galwan Valley clash. Their deaths came after decades free of war fatalities along the frontier. On 19 June, Modi declared that nobody had intruded into Indian territory and no Indian post had been captured.

At a moment when India needed an unambiguous account of Chinese aggression, its prime minister chose deception. If there had been no Chinese intrusion, what precisely had the Indian soldiers laid down their lives for? Modi’s formulation lent credibility to Beijing’s version of events while weakening India’s position.

There is an uncomfortable historical echo here. During Kargil, Pakistan’s military leadership under Pervez Musharraf denied its soldiers’ involvement, leaving India to bury Pakistani dead. In Kargil and in Galwan, Musharraf and Modi chose to protect their political positions through denial, leaving soldiers to bear the consequences. Given how readily he and his party invoke Pakistan as the measure of everything India must reject, Modi should find the resemblance disturbing.

On the basis of a Ladakhi delegation’s estimate, Rahul Gandhi has raised concerns that China might have taken control of roughly 2,000 sq. km. of India-controlled territory in Ladakh.

The government disputes this, and a former chief of the government’s Border Roads Organisation challenged the LoP’s remarks in the Supreme Court. Dismissing the Opposition does not answer substantive questions: where can Indian troops patrol today and what restrictions remain?

Negotiations have been on for the last six years, but the government has not demonstrated that India has recovered the territorial control and patrolling access it had before the 2020 crisis. The 21 October 2024 agreement addressed, to some extent, patrolling in Depsang and Demchok, and military talks have continued beyond the 21st round, but this does not establish that all previous arrangements have been restored across eastern Ladakh.

The Modi government’s handling of former army chief General M.M. Naravane’s memoir reinforces the concern. His Four Stars of Destiny remains unpublished pending defence ministry clearance. In the name of protecting operational secrets, the government prevented the memoir from seeing the light of day.

Indefinitely preventing public access to an important account of decisions during a national security crisis deserves a better explanation. Citizens are entitled to ask whether this secrecy protects military capabilities or protects the people who made political decisions.

The controversy surrounding the film Battle of Galwan, renamed Maatrubhumi: May War Rest in Peace, raises similar questions. Reports suggested pressure on the filmmaker to soften its portrayal of China. Should soldiers’ sacrifices become material for diplomatic makeovers?

Meanwhile, Beijing presses its claims over Arunachal Pradesh, calls it South Tibet and assigns Chinese names to its locations. Its border village programme strengthens its presence and capacity to support military operations.

China’s huge hydropower dam construction on the Yarlung Tsangpo, upstream of the Brahmaputra, adds another trial to existing tribulations. India and China have no water-sharing treaty.

Downstream concerns include sedimentation, ecological disruption, dam safety and timely information about flood water releases. India needs enforceable cooperation and credible assessment, rather than vague assurances that its interests are being safeguarded.

Economic dependence also limits room for manoeuvre. India imported about $131.6 billion in goods from China in 2025-26, against exports of about $19.5 billion. Foreign minister Jaishankar’s admission of ‘surrender’ because China is the bigger economy explains the defeatist mindset of the Modi government. It raises question of what 12 years of Modi’s rule have done to fortify India’s bargaining power. Manufacturing capacity, technological competence and dependable foreign policy cannot be replaced by speeches about national greatness.

Modi’s 2025 visit to China for the SCO summit and Xi Jinping’s attendance at the 2026 BRICS summit in Delhi are defensible diplomatic engagements. However, while confrontations persist, sunny summit photo-ops cannot prove that India’s position has improved. Our government should be able to pursue dialogue while naming Chinese actions clearly and accounting for the results of its negotiations.

Modi’s reluctance is understandable if one sees it through the lens of his brand of politics. An honest discussion would reveal the yawning chasm between branded braggadocio and grim ground reality.

Pakistan and Bangladesh have offered familiar opportunities for religion-based political mobilisation at home; China exposes the limits of our ‘huglomacy’ and raises difficult questions about our military preparedness and economic dependence.

How much easier it is to sway citizens into accepting a fake normal and let soldiers face the heat. India needs peace with China. It also needs a prime minister willing to tell Indians what that peace costs, what remains unresolved, and why his promises have fallen way short of the 56-inch mark.

Views are personal

Ashok Swain is a professor of peace and conflict research at Uppsala University, Sweden. More by the author here