Opinion | From Defence To Dominance: Bharat’s Shifting Response To Terrorism
The biggest pragmatic shift between the NDA and UPA regimes is this: military retaliation is now a matter of 'when', not 'if'
India’s response to terrorism over the past two decades has seen a significant policy shift, two contrasting approaches – one with a defensive mindset, tuning down the urge of retaliation, and taking a diplomatic route, while the other accustomed with a deep-rooted sense of nationalism, proactively launching a lethal, no holds barred attack against Pakistan on all – economic, diplomatic, political, and tactical – fronts. Let’s delve deeper into the mindset of these regimes (UPA & NDA) using the case study of the infamous 26/11 Mumbai attack of 2008, and the recent barbaric Pahalgam tragedy.
UPA’s Legacy Of Inaction: No Spine, No Strike
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The 26/11 attack on the economic capital of India, on 26 November 2008, was unarguably fiercer, deadlier, and more threatening than any in recent memory. Mumbai was under siege. Ten radicals from the Pakistan-based Lashkar-e-Taiba infiltrated the city, spread across key locations, and executed what was perhaps the scariest domestic onslaught in recent times—bombing around 12 sites, taking innocent civilians hostage, and unleashing chaos for several days. Over 160 people lost their lives.
The intelligence agencies had seen it coming. Repeated bomb blasts in Mumbai were enough to indicate that sleeper cells and overground workers were well established and prepared for a major strike. The mere fact that terrorists had entered Mumbai was enough to terrorise the masses—this global disease of radical terrorism was no longer confined to Jammu & Kashmir; it had spread across the country.
One of the terrorists, Kasab, was caught alive. He confessed that Pakistan was behind it all. India had the testimony of the perpetrator himself. The world watched, Pakistan trembled, people were enraged—but the blood of the UPA regime did not boil. Instead, they took the road less travelled, attempting solely to isolate Pakistan diplomatically. Bharat had a well-trained armed force, fully prepared to counter the inhumane acts of the Pakistani army—but little did the soldiers know, the government had no interest in retaliation. The then Prime Minister was more inclined towards ‘peace’ and ‘brotherhood’. Innocent civilians were gunned down mercilessly, hostages were tortured at gunpoint, and the nation mourned—yet nothing happened.
If such a barbaric attack didn’t provoke that government, people knew nothing else would. This wasn’t a case of a lack of options. In fact, former Air Chief Marshal Fali Major, in a statement years later, disclosed: “The Indian Air Force had presented all possible military response plans to the UPA government post 26/11, but the leadership refrained from action."
The UPA’s handling of terrorism, particularly post-26/11, reflected a pattern of symbolic outrage rather than substantive response. Dossiers were exchanged, diplomatic notes were issued, and international forums were addressed – but none of these steps inflicted real cost on Pakistan.
Despite clear evidence of ISI’s involvement in the 26/11 attacks, Pakistan faced no diplomatic isolation. No economic countermeasures were pursued. No military options were exercised. Instead, India’s posture remained one of restraint and reactive diplomacy.
We were more focused on responding to Pakistani allegations than on leading our own narrative at global forums. This only encouraged Pakistan to target India at multiple locations, confident that we would not retaliate but would instead opt for the diplomatic route — a path that did little harm to the Islamic Republic. The 2010 Pune German Bakery blast, the 2011 Mumbai triple blasts, the 2013 Hyderabad Dilsukhnagar twin blasts, and many other such attacks followed. Each bore the same signature: cross-border planning, local modules, and no fear of Indian retaliation.
All of this came after then-Prime Minister Manmohan Singh revealed India’s timid approach to cross-border terrorism. Singh not only justified his reluctance to escalate militarily, but also unilaterally declared it to be the ‘right stand’. During his visit to the US on 22 November 2009, he admitted: “There was enormous pressure on me to go for retaliation after 26/11, but I resisted it. And I think that was the right decision."
This contributed to the impression that India would rely solely on diplomacy and refrain from any escalation. That was precisely the comfort zone ISI and Islamabad desired. They were free to launch targeted attacks without fear of consequence. But India’s 2014 mandate came as a jolt to them — one that continues to unsettle them even today.
Pragmatic Shift Under Modi: One Attack, Ten Consequences
Skip to 2014. India’s newly elected Prime Minister was about to take oath, and Pakistan’s PM Nawaz Sharif was in attendance. Modi’s message to the world was clear even before he assumed office: he wanted peace with the neighbour. He gave Pakistan a final chance, but, as expected, Pakistan chose terrorism. Terrorists struck a strategic IAF base barely months after Modi made a surprise visit to Lahore to push diplomacy. That was the tipping point. India had had enough.
This was no longer a regime that prioritised restraint over retaliation or dialogue over deterrence. What followed was beyond even Pakistan’s wildest imagination. For the first time, India crossed the LoC in a pre-emptive Surgical Strike, targeting terror launchpads with pinpoint precision. This was not just retaliation—it was a message to the world: We do not strike first, but rest assured, we will not hold back if provoked.
A couple of years of relative peace were shattered again in 2019. CRPF jawans were attacked in Pulwama. This time, Indian jets penetrated deep into Pakistani airspace, striking a Jaish-e-Mohammed camp in what is now known as the Balakot ‘Air Strike’. Retaliation was not limited to the military front—India also struck diplomatically. Pakistan was isolated on the global stage, greylisted by the FATF, triggering internal unrest and economic strain.
Years went by. Article 370 was abrogated. Terrorism was gasping its last breath, largely restricted to the corner pockets of the border areas. Jammu & Kashmir began breathing anew—tourism returned, filming resumed, the economy flourished, and elections were held. But then came another deadly strike.
22 April 2025. Innocent tourists enjoying their holidays in the valley were selectively shot dead. This was not just an attack—it was religious cleansing. A massacre so brutal, its scar still bleeds in the national conscience. People were lined up by terrorists, asked their religion. Anyone who answered ‘Hindu’ was shot on the spot. Those who hesitated were asked to recite the Kalma; pants were pulled down to verify their faith; non-Muslims were shot in the head.
One of the victims’ wives recalled: “When I asked the terrorist to shoot me too, he said, ‘No. Go and tell Modi.’" After the horrific exodus of Kashmiri Pandits post-1989, this was another direct attack on Hindus. The barbarity sent shockwaves across the country. People were enraged, demanding justice—demanding Pakistan be taught a lesson. Investigations traced the perpetrators once again to Pakistan. This was, perhaps, the final nail in the coffin.
India has taken multiple steps to hurt Pakistan on all fronts—diplomatic, economic, strategic, and even with respect to basic necessities. When Modi spoke in English from Bihar, it wasn’t just for domestic audiences—it was a message to the world: “India will pursue terrorists to the ends of the earth."
This was no empty rhetoric.
In the early hours of 7 May 2025, Operation Sindoor was launched—a historic and clinical military strike that dismantled Pakistan’s terror ecosystem at its roots. In a coordinated 23-minute offensive, Indian forces carried out 24 high-precision missile strikes on nine terror hubs spread across Pakistan and Pakistan-occupied Kashmir, including Bahawalpur, Muzaffarabad, Rawalakot, Kotli, and Chakwal. Rafales flew deep, missiles struck with pinpoint accuracy, and one of the most significant outcomes was the elimination of 10 members of JeM chief Masood Azhar’s family in Bahawalpur, along with four of his top handlers.
The operation was named Sindoor—after the red mark worn by married Hindu women—as a tribute to the victims of the Pahalgam attack, where pilgrims were brutally killed and many women left widowed. India responded not with press notes, but with precision. No Pakistani military base was touched—only terror camps. Yet, the impact has rattled Islamabad to its core.
The Indian government has also placed the Indus Waters Treaty in abeyance—the same treaty that allows 80 per cent of the Indus water to flow into Pakistan. The scale of Indian anger is evident: a treaty untouched even during the 1965 and Kargil wars has now been formally halted. The Wagah Border ceremony has been cancelled indefinitely. Cross-border movement is frozen. All backchannel talks have ceased. Pakistan’s High Commissioner and key diplomatic staff have been expelled; the size of the Pakistani mission in New Delhi is now capped at 30. All flights to and from Pakistan have been suspended. Trade routes, sea access, and postal exchanges—every thread of economic or civilian engagement—has been severed.
India has also launched a sweeping social media sanitisation drive. Handles linked to ISI psy-ops, Pakistan Army propaganda, fake news ecosystems, and anti-India narratives have been withheld with immediate effect. Visas issued to Pakistani nationals—including long-term business, cultural, and medical visas—have been revoked. All ongoing applications have been suspended, and Pakistani nationals already in India have been instructed to return within a defined timeframe. The message is clear: You cannot send suicide bombers one day and artists the next.
In a landmark move, Prime Minister Narendra Modi had given the armed forces a free hand—with full autonomy to decide the timing, scale, mode, and coordinates of retaliatory operations. The biggest pragmatic shift between the NDA and UPA regimes is this: military retaliation is now a matter of when, not if. No timeline binds India’s response. Our forces act on their intelligence, not on media cycles or global pressure.
The contrast couldn’t be starker. In 2008, when terrorists infiltrated Mumbai, the UPA government chose silence over strength. Press conferences were held. Despite the Air Force presenting a viable retaliation plan, political will was absent. Instead of domination, dossiers were sent to Islamabad—documents that, predictably, were treated no better than toilet paper. Candlelight marches were our only fire. And if that weren’t humiliation enough, the then Prime Minister proudly declared less than a year later that “not acting" was a wise choice.
Today, the policymakers have changed—and so has Bharat’s stand. We no longer confine ourselves to the diplomatic lane; we confront the enemy on every front. New Delhi showed no haste in avenging the Pahalgam massacre militarily, keeping the global fraternity and media on edge. Every silence, every closed-door meeting, every cancelled bilateral was closely read—because the world knew that what was coming wasn’t tokenism. This is no longer about optics. Speaking to those closely tracking developments, one thing is clear: India’s response no longer comes with a press note—it comes with precision.
Pushpesh Pandey is a writer focusing on political and social issues, based in Uttarakhand. He offers insights on current affairs through his Twitter handle, The Analyzer (@Indian_Analyzer). Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect News18’s views.
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