Why ‘Indian’ is becoming a bad word in the West

Five years ago, I wrote a piece debunking the myth of ‘Hinduphobia’. This was the time that several Hindutva organisations in North America and Europe were trying to popularise the term as a political counterweight to Islamophobia. The strategy was clear: if Muslims could rally around discrimination, prejudice and violence directed at them, so could Hindus fan threat perceptions to shield Hindutva politics in India. Criticism of majoritarian nationalism in India was repackaged as hatred of Hindus.

Five years on, this enterprise is still alive and kicking, even though the world has changed a lot since 2021. Donald Trump’s return to the White House has emboldened far right movements across much of the Western world. Anti-immigrant rhetoric has become mainstream. White nationalist groups that once operated on the political margins now enjoy much greater visibility and influence. In this new environment, Indians living abroad are increasingly finding themselves at the receiving end of racism and xenophobia.

This reality must be acknowledged. Anti-India(n) sentiment is real. It is ugly and growing. Reports of attacks on Indians in Ireland, Italy, Australia, Canada, the UK and US have become more frequent. Online spaces have witnessed a surge in openly racist language directed at Indians.

In the US, even successful Indian Americans like Vivek Ramaswamy — who enthusiastically aligned themselves with Trump — have discovered that their loyalty offers little protection from racial prejudice. For White supremacists, Indians are outsiders, regardless of their wealth, education, political beliefs or professional standing.

But this anti-Indian racism is still not ‘Hinduphobia’. The hostility directed at Indians is not rooted in their Hindu identity. It is part racial prejudice, part economic anxiety, part broad anti-immigrant sentiment and politics — but also a reaction to progressively bolder assertions of Hindu nationalism and cultural arrogance from some sections of the Indian diaspora.

For decades, Indians abroad enjoyed an enviable reputation. They were seen as hardworking, educated, entrepreneurial and law abiding. They were the ideal immigrants and the subjects of many immigrant success stories. Their achievements in medicine, engineering, academia, technology and business earned them respect and admiration. But the default perception of Indians is changing.

Diaspora nationalism is a key ingredient of this change. Over the past ten or so years, the Modi government has tried to cultivate a sense of civilisational pride among overseas Indians. Taking pride in one’s heritage or cultural roots is one thing, but when pride turns into arrogance, it is likely to provoke.

Many affluent Indians abroad, particularly upper caste Hindus, have begun to see themselves not simply as successful immigrants but as representatives of a rising global power. They have absorbed the delusional narrative that India under Modi has become a superpower, a great civilisation-state that is reclaiming its rightful place at the centre of world affairs. This delusion has spawned an exaggerated sense of entitlement.

In some diaspora circles, there is a growing tendency to look down on other migrant communities while simultaneously expecting special treatment from host societies. Professional success has produced an expectation that Indians deserve greater recognition and influence. This inflated sense of self-worth and entitlement has not gone unnoticed.

The Indian diaspora’s cultural arrogance, aggressive nationalism and lack of respect for local social norms has become a theme of public debates in the West.

Attention is drawn to the fundamental mismatch between societies that discriminate on the basis of caste and those that regard equality as a foundational value. Universities, workplaces and community organisations have reported tensions linked to caste identities that people in the West had never encountered earlier.

Indian tourists are also contributing to this adverse perception of the Indian diaspora. A growing appetite for ‘foreign holidays’ in India’s upwardly mobile middle class has produced millions of first-time international travellers.

Social media is filled with videos of Indian tourists ignoring regulations, disturbing public spaces, disrespecting local customs or engaging in reckless behaviour. This is possibly a tiny minority but we live in an era were virality trumps statistics.

One standout feature is a sense of entitlement that flows from an inflated sense of India’s standing in the world and Modi’s global stature. Sustained exposure to the Modi government’s nationalist propaganda has convinced this rambunctious lot that India is already a superpower; that Modi is the world’s most popular leader; that ‘Indian culture’ is universally admired; that Indians command special respect wherever they go. When this imagined status collides with reality, it often produces behaviour that local populations find hard to stomach.

None of this makes racism acceptable. Never. The responsibility for racist actions lies with the perpetrators. Yet understanding why negative perceptions are spreading requires more than condemnation. It requires a close reading of the social and political context in which these perceptions take hold.

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Another uncomfortable reality concerns racism within sections of the Indian community itself. Anti-Muslim prejudice, anti-Black stereotypes, hostility towards refugees and support for exclusionary nationalist politics are becoming defining attributes of the Indian diaspora.

The contradiction is striking: some of the most strident critics of racism against Indians simultaneously support political movements that demonise migrants, Muslims and other minorities in India and elsewhere.

This contradiction is most evident among Indian supporters of Trump and other far-right movements. Many believed that economic success and political loyalty would secure acceptance within conservative nationalist circles. They eagerly embraced anti-immigrant rhetoric directed at others while imagining themselves exempt from its consequences.

But White nationalism does not distinguish between Hindus and Muslims, Sikhs or Christians, nor between rich and poor, nor even between conservative and liberal. When racial anxieties intensify, every ‘foreigner’ is a target.

While anti-Indian racism is real, Indians abroad must resist the temptation to package all criticism as racism. All complaints about social behaviour are not xenophobic. Discussions about caste discrimination are not anti-Indian. Nor is criticism of majoritarian nationalism in India an attack on Hinduism.

The hostility Indians are facing in parts of the Western world is a product of two parallel developments. As much as it stems from a resurgent far right eager to scapegoat immigrants, it also flows from their own racial and caste prejudices, cultural arrogance and support of toxic Hindutva, which has eroded the goodwill accumulated over generations.

The future of the Indian diaspora in the West depends not only on resisting racism but also on rediscovering the virtues of civic responsibility, on whether they can be respectful of the societies they now inhabit, the countries they now call home.

Views are personal

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