The Politics of Apologies: Modi, Netanyahu, and the Optics of National Honour

By Sanjeev Oak

Israel’s hurried apologies after a hospital strike have invited sharp scrutiny. A Jerusalem Post column argues Benjamin Netanyahu could learn from Narendra Modi’s restraint—where silence, not haste, becomes a weapon of diplomacy and a defence of national honour.

When an Israeli newspaper holds up Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s diplomatic style as a lesson for Benjamin Netanyahu, it signals a moment of cross-cultural reflection. At its core is a simple, uncomfortable question: how should a leader respond when confronted by international outrage?

An op-ed in The Jerusalem Post by defence analyst Zaki Shalom attempts to answer this, drawing a striking contrast between Modi’s studied restraint and Netanyahu’s reflexive apologies.

Modi’s Refusal to Flinch

Shalom recalls an episode from August 2025, when U.S. President Donald Trump imposed steep tariffs on Indian exports and sought to personally reach out to Modi. According to reports, Trump made four separate phone calls. Modi chose not to respond.

The message, as Shalom interprets it, was unmistakable: India’s national honour was not up for negotiation, even under pressure from its most powerful partner.

“A country must defend its national honour even when facing difficult and complex situations.”

For Shalom, this silence was not indecision but strategy. By refusing to be rushed into conversation, Modi projected calm confidence and reminded both domestic and international audiences that India would not be hurried into reaction.

Israel’s Quick Apologies

Now shift to Khan Younis. In February 2025, an Israeli shell hit Nasser Hospital, killing civilians and journalists. Within hours, three Israeli figures—the IDF spokesperson, the Chief of Staff, and Prime Minister Netanyahu—issued apologies.

For Shalom, this chain of admissions was not only unnecessary but counter-productive. Instead of containing the damage, they amplified perceptions of guilt and panic.

“The statements … conveyed a notable degree of anxiety—and perhaps even panic.”

In a conflict zone, where narratives move as fast as missiles, such apologies can lock a country into a defensive posture. The world hears contrition, but adversaries sense weakness.

The Global Optics of Restraint

Diplomacy today is as much about optics as policy. Modi’s refusal to “rush” into apology fits into a broader Indian playbook of strategic autonomy—where silence or calibrated responses can sometimes carry more weight than words.

From refusing to condemn Russia outright in the Ukraine war, to balancing ties with the United States and the Global South, Modi has consistently used pause as power. For him, the absence of an apology is not denial—it is positioning.

Israel, by contrast, often feels trapped by its hyper-connected political environment: a Western ally watching closely, Arab neighbours on edge, and domestic critics ready to pounce. Netanyahu’s instinct to apologise quickly may reflect this tightrope. But, as Shalom suggests, it risks diluting the projection of strength Israel seeks to maintain.

Apologies in International Relations

History offers parallels.

• In 2001, after a U.S. spy plane collided with a Chinese fighter jet, Washington issued a carefully worded “letter of regret” but avoided a full apology—an artful compromise that signalled neither panic nor capitulation.

• In contrast, Canada’s hasty apology to Saudi Arabia in 2018 after a diplomatic spat over human rights issues was perceived as weakness, emboldening Riyadh.

In this light, Modi’s playbook sits closer to Beijing’s: acknowledge pressure, but never undercut dignity.

Netanyahu’s Dilemma

Can Israel, with its volatile security situation, adopt a similar posture? Shalom believes so. He argues that by immediately apologising, Netanyahu projected fear rather than resilience. For a country whose security doctrine is built on deterrence, such signals can erode credibility.

Yet there’s also a counter-argument: Israel’s democracy is under intense international scrutiny, with allies conditioning support on humanitarian conduct. Silence, in such contexts, might look like arrogance—or worse, impunity.

Lessons Beyond India and Israel

The comparison opens a broader debate on the politics of apology.

• For rising powers like India, restraint reinforces the narrative of a confident nation charting its own course.

• For embattled democracies like Israel, contrition may buy international sympathy—but at the cost of appearing insecure.

Both strategies carry risks. Too much restraint can harden perceptions of stubbornness. Too many apologies can weaken deterrence.

The Editorial Takeaway

Zaki Shalom’s column is less about Netanyahu and Modi as individuals than about two distinct schools of statecraft. One prizes poise and silence; the other seeks to pre-empt criticism through contrition.

For Israel, the lesson may not be to mimic Modi wholesale, but to recalibrate—balancing acknowledgement of tragedy with an unshaken projection of national resolve.

In the end, diplomacy is theatre. And in theatre, timing matters as much as the script.

 “Sometimes, the most powerful statement a leader can make is the refusal to rush into words.”

Why this matters

• Diplomacy as Optics – Modi’s refusal to answer Trump’s calls shows how silence can project strength, not weakness, in international politics.

• Israel’s Contrast – Netanyahu’s swift apologies after a hospital strike are seen as signalling panic, undermining deterrence.

• The Power of Restraint – In global statecraft, timing and tone often matter more than the words themselves.

• Broader Lesson – Nations under pressure must balance acknowledgement with dignity; too much contrition can appear insecure.