This week, a rather self-important journalist at a press briefing aggressively asked that question to Indian diplomats in Oslo.
The question itself reveals a subtle Western assumption: that trust in international relations is measured by alignment with Western priorities. India’s strategic autonomy unsettles liberal democracies not because India is uniquely unreliable, but because it refuses to behave like a subordinate ally. Yet history suggests that powerful states are rarely trusted because they are obedient. They are trusted when their long-term interests broadly converge with those of others. The real issue, therefore, is not whether India is perfectly aligned with liberal democracies, but whether India’s rise ultimately strengthens or weakens the stability of the international order.
The answer is that liberal democracies can trust India - though not in the simplistic manner many policymakers desire. India is not Britain. It is not Japan. It will never be a treaty-bound strategic extension of Washington. It is a civilisational state with its own geopolitical memory, ambitions and insecurities. The mistake lies in assuming that autonomy and reliability are opposites.
India’s strategic culture was forged through centuries of vulnerability. Colonial rule left a profound suspicion of dependency on external powers. The Cold War reinforced this instinct. Jawaharlal Nehru’s non-alignment was not merely moral idealism; it was a practical recognition that India lacked the economic or military capacity to become trapped inside another power bloc. Even today, India faces an extraordinarily difficult geography: a nuclear expansionist China to its east, an unstable terror-sponsoring, nuclear proliferating Pakistan to its west, contested maritime routes in the Indian Ocean, and dependence on imported energy. Under such conditions, strategic flexibility is survival. It’s a rough neighbourhood for the only major reliably democratic nation there.
Western critics often interpret this flexibility as hypocrisy. India participates in the Quad alongside the United States, Japan and Australia to counterbalance China, yet continues buying Russian oil and weapons. India speaks the language of democratic values abroad while facing accusations of democratic backsliding at home. To many in Washington or Brussels, this appears contradictory. But international relations are rarely moral enterprises. The United States itself supported authoritarian regimes throughout the Cold War when convenient. Europe condemned Russian aggression while remaining deeply dependent on Russian gas. States routinely combine values with self-interest. India is hardly exceptional.
Indeed, the Western discomfort with India often reflects double standards. France proudly speaks of “strategic autonomy” from Washington. America itself ignores international institutions whenever its core interests demand it. Yet when India pursues autonomy, it is frequently portrayed as evasive or unreliable. The underlying anxiety is not really about trustworthiness. It is about control. Liberal democracies are discovering that India is too large, too economically important and too geopolitically central to be managed in the manner of smaller allies.
This matters because India’s rise is occurring during a profound crisis of the liberal international order itself. Europe faces demographic stagnation, debt pressures and weakening industrial competitiveness. The United States remains militarily dominant but politically polarised. China offers an authoritarian alternative model of economic modernity. Against this backdrop, India occupies a unique position. It is the world’s largest democracy, possesses immense demographic potential, increasingly attracts global capital and technology investment, and shares broad concerns about Chinese regional dominance. Liberal democracies may dislike aspects of India’s independence, but the strategic alternatives are far worse.
Moreover, India’s autonomy may actually enhance its value to the democratic world. Because India is not viewed as a Western client state, it retains influence across the Global South in ways NATO powers increasingly struggle to achieve. Many developing nations see India as a country that understands post-colonial sensitivities while still participating in global capitalism and democratic politics. That gives India diplomatic credibility unavailable to many Western states. Ironically, India’s refusal to become fully aligned with the West may make it more effective at stabilising a fragmented multipolar order.
None of this means India is beyond criticism. Liberal democracies, India’s vibrant and extremely vocal political opposition, have the right to raise concerns about press freedom, religious tensions and institutional independence. The Anglo-American alliance endured not because Britain and America agreed on everything, but because their strategic interests remained deeply intertwined.
Ultimately, liberal democracies must decide whether they seek obedient allies or durable partners. India will almost certainly never become the former. But it may prove indispensable as the latter. Its strategic autonomy is not evidence of disloyalty to the liberal order; rather, it reflects a belief that sovereignty in a dangerous world requires room for manoeuvre. The West may find this frustrating. Yet in an era of growing geopolitical fragmentation, a strong, democratic and autonomous India is likely to be one of the few pillars preventing a world dominated either by authoritarian hegemony or outright disorder.
The deeper irony, therefore, is this: the very independence that causes liberal democracies to hesitate in trusting India may ultimately be the reason they need India most. Journalists often miss the point.