Dealing with the diaspora

There are worrying signs that in the next decade the Indian diaspora will begin to create more complications for Indian foreign and domestic policy than it hitherto has

The Indian diaspora has traditionally been a source of strength for the country’s foreign policy. In most areas where Indian migrants have settled, particularly in the West, they are seen by local policymakers as well as those in New Delhi as a non-threatening bridge between the two countries. This is particularly true of those countries, such as the United States, where Indian-origin residents are among the most productive ethnicities. Indian-Americans, for example, have by many estimates the highest median income among their peers; they are viewed, therefore, even by relatively migration-unfriendly politicians, as a “model minority”. In various parts of the world, Indian-origin citizens have done well politically as well: besides the vice-president of the US, Portugal, Ireland, and the United Kingdom all have prime ministers with Indian heritage.

This is an enviable position to be in, and one that the current administration in New Delhi has naturally taken advantage of. The prime minister, on one of his foreign trips, regularly makes time to meet the Indian diaspora in the region, often in a public forum. In the United States and United Kingdom, such meetings have in the past been held in large stadiums such as Madison Square Garden or Wembley. On two occasions, they were also addressed by the local political leader (in Texas, with then President Donald Trump, and in London, with then Prime Minister David Cameron).

There are worrying signs, however, that in the next decade the Indian diaspora will begin to create more complications for Indian foreign and domestic policy than it hitherto has.

One of the immediate problems is, of course, the fallout abroad of tensions in the state of Punjab following the much-publicised manhunt for a rogue preacher that the Indian government views as spreading separatist sentiment. Countries with substantial Sikh populations, particularly Commonwealth countries, have also seen open confrontations as a consequence. In Australia, violence broke out in late January, injuring two people. Tensions grew after reports spread on social media that two temples in Melbourne had been vandalised. During an official function with his Australian counterpart, the Indian prime minister stressed that he had raised the subject and added that “it is important to deal with such challenges [for] global well-being”. In both London and San Francisco, Indian diplomatic missions found themselves besieged by protestors in recent weeks. Both the US and UK issued strong statements about what Foreign Secretary James Cleverly called “unacceptable acts of violence”. Yet, even so, on social media, the US and UK governments became the targets of nationalist sentiment within India. Meanwhile, in Canada, domestic politicians have become involved, after the leader of the New Democratic Party — a key supporter of the ruling Liberals — had his Twitter feed blocked in India for publicly appealing to his coalition partner, Justin Trudeau, about the situation in Punjab.

There are other longer-term problems at work, as well. Riots last year in the British Midlands city of Leicester, home to a large South Asian-origin population, were particularly significant. They reflected Hindu-Muslim tensions in South Asia, and were generally seen as an indication that both communities in the UK were increasingly radicalised. The usual method by which South Asian communities in Britain were engaged by the administration was through religious “community leaders”, many of whom had strong inter-faith links. But in Leicester, that did not help — partly because younger members of both communities were more responsive to radicals on social media, including from influencers with no connection to the UK at all. And the immediate catalyst for the riots — the arrival in the UK for a speaking tour of the controversial preacher Nisha Ritambhara — strongly indicated that the origins of the tensions in the Midlands were subcontinental rather than local. Although many of the Muslim British Asians involved in the Leicester clashes were of Indian origin, and although some Christians (of Goan origin) were involved as well, the Indian high commission’s statement on the issue singled out “the Hindu religion” as requiring defence. Whether or not this was justified in this particular case, it ran the risk of the mission becoming embroiled in local politics.

The risk is intensified when relations with India become a partisan issue. There is every danger of this being increasingly the case in Canada, in spite of Mr Trudeau’s very visible courting of India. In the US, meanwhile, the prime minister may not have been wise in appearing with Mr Trump and, even if as a joke, saying “abki baar, Trump sarkar”. In Britain, the divisions are becoming most marked, with the Conservative Party apparently courting Hindus and the Labour Party Muslims. (The latter is currently 30 to 40 percentage points ahead in opinion polls.)

The greatest strength of the India relationship in the West has always been that it has bipartisan support and that the Indian diaspora is seen as being unproblematic in domestic politics. If either of these supports to the diaspora-first engagement strategy falls apart, it will severely complicate New Delhi’s decision-making, going forward.