India is a nation of unmatched civilizational legacy, technological prowess, and military strength. Yet, when it comes to the war of narratives, we falter, stumble, and often surrender. While our armed forces guard our borders and our intelligence agencies fight invisible battles, we repeatedly lose where it matters just as much in today’s world — the perception battlefield. And in this war, perception often shapes policy, influences geopolitics, and determines legitimacy. Our enemies know this. Sadly, we still haven’t grasped it.
Take a moment to ask yourself: Why is it that every time there is a terror attack in India, global media questions our response, not the cause of the attack? Why is it that when India conducts a surgical strike or an air strike, we are forced to justify it, while Pakistan receives sympathy and aid? Why is it that when terrorists backed by Pakistan unleash bloodshed, some in Western think tanks and media pontificate about “root causes,” but when India defends itself, we’re told to exercise restraint?
Because we don’t control the story. We don’t shape the narrative. And worse, we often fail to counter the lies being told about us.
Let’s be honest: we don’t have a Ministry of Narrative Warfare, and maybe we need one. China has entire departments under the Central Propaganda Bureau dedicated to shaping the global opinion in favour of the Communist Party. Pakistan, with its army-controlled ISPR (Inter-Services Public Relations), runs a slick disinformation operation that targets India 24/7, globally. Even non-state actors like Hamas, Hezbollah, or the Taliban have learned the art of manipulating public perception using modern tools. But India, for all its intellectual capital, continues to fight 21st-century perception wars with a 20th-century mindset.
India has suffered countless terror attacks — from Mumbai 26/11 to Pahalgam— yet we let the stories fade away, replaced by manufactured “concerns” over how we retaliate. We don’t amplify the pain of our victims. We don’t humanize our loss. We let it slip into the abyss of bureaucratic forgetfulness. Where are the compelling documentaries, the survivor testimonials, the hard-hitting visuals that force the world to reckon with what we endure? We have the content — we just don’t tell it.
Let’s also confront an uncomfortable truth: some of our worst narrative battles are not fought abroad, but at home. In the name of “freedom of expression,” certain sections of Indian academia, media, and civil society amplify enemy propaganda. From vilifying our soldiers to questioning India’s very sovereignty over Kashmir, these voices create internal dissonance that weakens our external stance. The enemy doesn’t need to invent lies when we have people in our own universities, editorial rooms, and activist circles doing the job for them.
When an Indian soldier is killed, we mourn. But when India retaliates, suddenly the conversation turns to “human rights.” When terrorists are gunned down in Kashmir, the usual suspects emerge with crocodile tears and colonial jargon like “genocide,” “occupation,” and “oppression.” Why is it that they never call out the jihadist radicalism that fuels these terror groups?
It’s not just ignorance. It’s deliberate. It’s ideological. And it’s dangerous.
The truth is: winning wars on the ground is no longer enough. In a hyper-connected world, narrative is a weapon — and our enemies have weaponized it brilliantly. The Taliban wore suits and spoke fluent English at press conferences. Hamas used social media to show only half-truths, knowing that image and emotion travel faster than fact. Pakistan funds influencers and think tanks to parrot its lies about Kashmir. Meanwhile, what do we do? We wait for MEA press releases.
India needs an information warfare doctrine. We need storytelling warriors — people who can create compelling narratives rooted in truth, integrity, and strategic clarity. We need global influencers who speak on behalf of India — not just in politics but in culture, academia, cinema, and technology. We need to invest in media diplomacy. And yes, we need to counter lies with fact — aggressively, relentlessly, and unapologetically.
Our diplomats must speak not just in conferences but in viral clips. Our soldiers’ stories should not be confined to defence circles but shown to the world as symbols of courage and clarity. Our victims of terror must not be statistics — they must be remembered, documented, and honoured as part of our collective memory.
The narrative war is not a side-show. It is the war. And if we don’t fight it, we might find ourselves winning battles but losing legitimacy — not because we’re wrong, but because we were silent.
Let the truth be told. Let India speak, and let the world listen — not to the noise of our enemies, but to the voice of a nation that will no longer stay silent in the face of deceit.
Because silence is no longer a virtue. It is a strategic blunder.
