Shashi Tharoor’s Diaspora Dilemma: When Silence Speaks Louder Than Words

The role of the Indian diaspora in shaping perceptions of India abroad has often been celebrated as a story of success, influence, and transnational clout. But Congress MP Shashi Tharoor’s sharp rebuke this week—that the diaspora has maintained a deafening silence on India–US setbacks at global forums—forces us to confront an uncomfortable question: when does silence cease to be diplomacy and start looking like complicity?

A tale of two diasporas

The Indian diaspora in the United States, now estimated at over 4.8 million, is no longer a fringe community. It is one of the wealthiest ethnic groups, occupying influential positions in Silicon Valley, academia, finance, and increasingly, politics. Indian-Americans have donated generously to political campaigns, mobilised on Capitol Hill, and organised lavish cultural festivals that bring India into the American mainstream.

Yet Tharoor’s charge is that this political and economic muscle has not translated into visible solidarity when India faces diplomatic rough weather. For instance, at recent international deliberations where Washington and New Delhi failed to see eye-to-eye on sensitive trade or strategic issues, diaspora voices were conspicuous by their absence.

As Tharoor implied, there is a contrast here. The Jewish-American lobby, for example, has never hesitated to weigh in on Israel-related debates in US politics, sometimes controversially but always audibly. The Indian diaspora, by comparison, appears far more risk-averse, preferring professional advancement and community image-building to hard political interventions.

“When the diaspora that never fails to light up Times Square for Diwali falls silent in Washington, it raises questions about priorities.”

Vajpayee to Modi: A continuum of diaspora politics

Tharoor’s critique also brings into focus the political courting of the diaspora by Indian leaders themselves. When Prime Minister Narendra Modi addressed a packed Madison Square Garden in 2014, it became a global media spectacle—an assertion that India’s soft power could mobilise not only governments but also communities abroad.

It is worth recalling, however, that Modi was not the first Indian leader to use diaspora stages for political symbolism. During his September 2000 state visit to the United States, then Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee addressed a massive gathering of Indian-Americans at New York’s iconic Madison Square Garden. The atmosphere was electric, but the context was different: India had just weathered post-Pokhran-II sanctions, and Vajpayee’s outreach was aimed at restoring confidence in India’s global legitimacy.

That distinction matters. Modi’s rallies in 2014 and beyond were infused with triumphalism, projecting India as an emergent great power. Vajpayee’s moment in 2000, by contrast, was a careful exercise in reassurance, in persuading both the diaspora and skeptical international observers that India’s democratic story was intact despite sanctions and security anxieties.

“Vajpayee’s outreach in 2000 was about reassurance. Modi’s in 2014 was about triumph. Both depended on the diaspora, but in very different ways.”

Why the silence now?

If diaspora mobilisation was so central to these symbolic moments, why the muteness today? Several explanations are possible.

One is generational. The first wave of Indian immigrants prioritised assimilation, focusing on education and upward mobility rather than political advocacy. Their children, born and raised in America, are only now entering positions of public power. Kamala Harris’s rise to the vice presidency exemplifies this shift, but the broader community remains hesitant to risk bipartisan credibility by taking strong stances on India-specific controversies.

Another explanation lies in the fragmented nature of the diaspora itself. Divided by region, religion, and ideology, the community often struggles to project a unified voice. On issues like Kashmir, farm protests, or human rights debates, diaspora groups have spoken—but often in contradictory tones, cancelling each other out.

Finally, there is the fear of backlash. At a time when Indian-Americans are battling stereotypes about “dual loyalty” and seeking greater mainstream political acceptance, many prefer not to be seen as mouthpieces for New Delhi, regardless of which party is in power.

“Diaspora politics thrives on festivals and philanthropy—but shies away from friction.”

What Tharoor gets right—and wrong

Tharoor is correct in identifying a gap between the diaspora’s economic heft and its political courage. The silence on trade disputes, climate negotiations, or even subtle diplomatic snubs does reveal a lack of organised advocacy. His comparison with other ethnic lobbies is also instructive.

But he risks oversimplifying the dynamics. Unlike Israel, which depends heavily on US military and diplomatic support, India’s relationship with the US is one of mutual strategic convergence rather than dependence. The diaspora cannot be expected to play the same kind of mobilising role in this fundamentally different equation.

Moreover, diaspora interventions can sometimes backfire. Protests or petitions may inadvertently strengthen negative stereotypes about India or deepen partisan divides within the host country. The calculus of silence, then, is not always cowardice—it can also be caution.

The road ahead

Tharoor’s provocation should still be taken seriously. If the diaspora aspires to be more than a cultural showpiece, it must evolve from pageantry to policy. That means investing in think tanks, funding scholarships in Indian studies, building bipartisan advocacy platforms, and learning how to play the slow, patient game of Washington lobbying.

It also means speaking up selectively but firmly when India’s core interests are at stake. Trade negotiations, intellectual property disputes, immigration reforms—these are areas where diaspora voices can carry weight without being caricatured as partisan.

The Indian diaspora’s story has always been one of adaptation: from engineers to CEOs, from first-generation immigrants to elected representatives. The next adaptation may well be from celebrants to stakeholders.

“The diaspora has mastered visibility. What it now needs to master is voice.”

Final Word

Tharoor’s lament, then, is not just a critique but a challenge. The diaspora can no longer afford to oscillate between silence and spectacle. For India’s global aspirations to be matched by influence abroad, its overseas community must step up—not necessarily as cheerleaders, but as credible, consistent advocates.

In that sense, the silence Tharoor condemns may yet prove catalytic. It forces us to ask: will the Indian diaspora continue to be a chorus for festivals and rallies, or will it finally become a choir for policy and principle?