In Search of ‘The India Way’: Ancient Indian Statecraft and Contemporary Geopolitics

The trajectory of India’s rise and its attendant international conduct through 75 years of its independence is an appreciable anomaly from the perspective of International Relations (IRs) theory. India’s decided policy of nonalignment soon after independence belies realist predictions of weak states adopting a bandwagoning behaviour (Walt, 1985); its assertion of strategic autonomy broadly nullifies the constructivist account of increased socialisation and identification shaping alliance behaviour; and its characteristic strategic restraint invalidates the realist affluence theory. Paradoxical assessments such as ‘arming without aiming’ and ‘emerging but never arriving’ draw attention to a unique path that India has trodden. What this reveals, perhaps, is both the inadequacy of Western explanations of state behaviour and the agency of a geo-culturally conditioned view of statecraft that is perceptibly at intellectual odds with the dominant Eurocentric one.

Is there an Indian way of conducting statecraft? Where do the civilisational roots of an Indic tradition lie, and what are its foundational principles? Authors of three recent works throw some light on these questions from their vantage points. Mark McClish’s The History of Arthashastra acknowledges ancient Indian treatise on statecraft as the ‘foundational text of Indic political thought’, and traces the historical journey of the text from one rooted in the political philosophy of realism and pragmatism to a redacted version embedded in the political theology of dharma, through the method of ‘textual analysis’. Medha Bisht’s Philosophy of Strategy unpacks the Arthashastra in strategically intelligible terms highlighting both its universality in terms of engagement with ‘global’ vocabularies of power, order and morality, and particularity in its nuanced deliberation on indigenous ideas. S. Jaishankar’s The India Way is an endeavour to outline the contours of India’s policy response in an uncertain world order, drawing substantively from its strategic culture. Importantly, the discourse in all three helps identify and shape India’s narrative or ‘grand ideology’ as a rising power.

Kautilya’s Arthashastra is the most authoritative and popular representation of ancient Indian political thought. However, the debate around its periodisation and authorship is fierce and unsettled. While a set of scholars (R. Shamashastry, K. P. Jayaswal, R. P. Kangle, J. J. Meyer and L. N. Rangarajan) are convinced about the text’s unitary authorship and its compositional history dating back to the Mauryan period of fourth-century bce, some others (Hartmut Scharfe, A. B. Keith, T. R. Trautmann and Patrick Olivelle) argue that the composer and redactor are not the same person and that its composition stretches between first-century bce to third-century ce. McClish’s chronological exploration of the treatise is a significant contribution to this debate on the historicity of the Arthashastra.

Through a thorough examination of text segments, end verses, citations and chapter colophons, McClish suggests that the extant treatise is a redacted version of an earlier text which may be called ‘Dandaniti’ (first-century bce). The redaction (third-century ce) was undertaken by Kautilya which significantly changed the character of the text from a political to a religious one. The original text, according to him, was illustrative of an early statecraft tradition where the king’s sovereign authority was unchallenged, and the underlying ethic was self-promotion by the kingship rather than commitment to the well-being of the people; the latter seen as a ‘lesser value’. The later redaction added passages that supported varnadharma and placed the king’s sovereign power subordinate to the moral law of dharma. This interpolation, according to McClish, created a conceptual dissonance in the text. He provides a robust philological defence for his arguments but does not investigate corroborative historical evidence to support the ideational shift.

Perhaps, a true critique of a work rooted in philological analysis ought to take into account textual arguments, but the precariousness of the conceptual manifestations of the author's conclusions draws the attention of the reviewer. The clear, foundational claims of the author that the original and redacted versions are dictated by king’s self-interest and orthodox precepts of dharma respectively, are substantively diluted when he subsequently acknowledges that neither the Dandaniti was doctrinaire about the exclusion of orthodox conceptions of Brahmanism nor did the extant Arthashastra break from the underlying political philosophy of the original. If this is the case, then, one can deduce that the infusion of theology in the extant treatise was cosmetic and inconsequential to the text’s technique of statecraft.

McClish’s understanding of dharma as Brahmanical dharma—with a sectarian interpretation—conceptualised the sovereignty of the king as embedded in ‘varnadharma’ (the sacred laws of the social classes) which presupposed the supremacy of the Brahmanas over the kings; ‘ksatra’ (ruling power of the king) in this model was governed by sacred law of dharma. There are two problems with this approach. One, the meaning of the term dharma is seen from a theological lens and is unidimensional and static. On the contrary, scholars have argued that dharma has evolved through the ages, and variations in meaning, nuance, context and connotation are sufficiently illustrated in its usage in Sanskrit texts of the classical period. One of the three philosophical substructures that the Arthashastra refers to is Yoga (or Vaisesika school of Indian philosophy) and the Vaisesikasutra begins with the statement that its object is to explain ‘dharma’, which is, that ‘by which prosperity (abhyudaya) and salvation (nihśreyasa) are attained’ (Dasgupta, 1975, p. 285).

Two, McClish’s admission that the difference between Brahmanical dharma and a general sense of righteousness, tradition and justice, can be a ‘somewhat tricky distinction to trace in practice’, dilutes his chief contention of the absence of dharma in Kautilyan statecraft. He also submits that the text integrates righteous conduct and pursuance of political gain; the ‘king’s judgment ought to be subject to the dual consideration of righteousness and political expediency’ (p. 190). However this, according to the author, does not take away the fact that the text in the main was motivated by political power and expedience. McClish’s view overlooks the important point that accumulation of political power by the king necessarily comprised optimisation of the human constituents of the state, which included the population and territory (janapada); intrinsically coalescing the rational with the normative.

The book’s broad conclusions suggest that the characteristic change in the nature of the two texts map the broad dynamics between religion and politics during the classical period. However, from a strategic cultural standpoint, the unbroken political ethic from the original to the extant text suggests continuity, and little impact on strategic culture-deduced grand strategic preferences. McClish acquiesces that the redacted version (which arguably provided textual and intellectual basis to much of the strategic literature to follow) reflects a dominant strand in Indian political thought even in the classical period.

If McClish’s work contributes to the conversation on the Arthashastra’s journey and evolution of thought and raises concern about conceptual dissonance, Bisht’s Kautilya’s Arthashasta: Philosophy of Strategy is a celebration of the text’s intellectual value and coherence, notwithstanding the lack of consensus on periodisation and authorship.

Bisht’s work is a nuanced, detailed and comprehensive engagement with Arthashastra’s native, geo-cultural strategic tradition in the light of certain generic understanding of concepts that pervade Western knowledge systems. The juxtaposition achieves two goals: one, it draws connection between ‘global’ vocabularies of power, order and morality at one end, and culturally embedded, local understanding of them at another; and two, flowing from the first, provides instrumentality to indigenous ideas.

Bisht deliberately puts forth her argument in three distinct parts to highlight the text’s intersectionality of disciplinary ideas. The first is an engaging discussion on the text’s philosophical moorings and strategic undertones which inform the conceptualisation of a grand strategic design; the second deliberates on the constitutive nature of central concepts such as state, power, morality and order, and invokes the harmony between philosophy, which shapes the desirable, and strategy, the feasible; and the third is a conversation between the vocabularies of Kautilya’s Arthashastra and IR theory and practice. The philosophical leanings inform the understanding of constitutive nature of vocabularies, which are employed to study the objects of IR.

The book’s sub-title—Philosophy of Strategy—concisely captures the essence of the treatise which coalesces abstract philosophical strands with prudent strategic insights. By drawing a connection between the cosmic understanding of order (as developed in Hindu political thought) and the science of enquiry (philosophy) in Kautilyan grand strategic design, the author presents a credible counterview to the more popular attribution to the text as furthering amoral power politics. The author credibly establishes ‘Kautilya as an exemplar strategist reconciling Hindu values with strategy’ (p. xi).

The book also revisits Arthashastra as an insightful text on grand strategy. Bisht convincingly establishes the ends, ways and means framework of grand strategy with yogakshema (safeguarding welfare of the people) as the end, dharma (order/duty) as the ways and danda (use of rod/weapon) and mandala (concentric circle of states) as the means. The securing of order and well-being in the internal realm through danda within a deontological framework qualifies the utilitarian principle which guides state’s external action in the mandala. Kautilya’s system of states accommodates both hegemony and autonomy and foregrounds balance and equilibrium rather than anarchy as envisaged by the realists.

Importantly, and in the context of discussion on dharma by McClish, Bisht offers an alternative view—both in terms of the understanding of dharma and holism of the text. She sees ‘order’ (interpreted as ‘holding together’ in Hindu political thought) as the most proximate meaning of dharma and the central pivot of Kautilyan analysis of state and statecraft. The use of rod (danda) gained legitimacy as it helped regulate and preserve order. This predominant orientation of the Kautilyan state informed the political (in shaping the meaning of morality, justice and power) and intertwined the political with the social in the Arthashastra. Strategically, varnadharma served an instrumental purpose in maintaining social order, which reinforced the text’s grand design rather than cause discord in its basic commitments (as claimed by McClish). In foregrounding dharma as an interpretive lens, Bisht convincingly establishes the normative inclination of the text; a non-western contribution to political thought and diplomatic practice.

The book accomplishes in presenting the text as an endogenous intellectual resource, and lucidly expounding the ‘local flavour’ of its culturally embedded understanding of concepts. However, while the author examines in detail the strategic relevance of the Arthashastra (opening line of the book), it leaves the reader rather quizzical about the author’s views on the concept of ‘strategic culture’. ‘It is of course a question whether this strategic tradition survived in postcolonial India, given the overbearing impact that colonisation had on political ideas’ (p. 170). A foray into evaluating the strategic relevance of the text in contemporary times may have qualitatively added to the interpretive account of the treatise.

The debates around the intellectual legacy of ancient Indian statecraft are taken to their logical conclusion in S. Jaishankar’s The India Way—an attempt to identify India’s own narrative in the contemporary world. What is India’s idea of advocacy as a rising power? How does it perceive its role in the international community? Is there a uniquely Indian way of strategising, and does it stem from its strategic culture? Perhaps S. Jaishankar, with a ring-side view of India’s diplomatic practice coupled with a keen knowledge of the classics, is best suited to answer these questions. His experience-rich account is particularly enhanced by the realism, nuance and lucidity of his arguments.

The thrust of the book is to delineate India’s path as a civilisational power in a world between orders. The rise of India’s economic and military heft necessitates a clear conception and effective communication of its role and responsibility in the interstate system. Unlike the template of power transition theorists who consider increase in relative material capabilities and likely revisionism as defining characteristics of rising powers, India presents itself as an anomaly in balancing national interest with international responsibilities. This alludes to Bisht’s reading of the Arthashastra where the normative and overarching framework of dharma in the internal realm informs state power in the external; coalescing the realpolitik and moralpolitik in defining and maintaining international order.

Fittingly, the author draws on India’s strategic tradition, largely from the Mahabharata and episodically from Kautilya’s Arthashastra, to highlight India’s rich heritage, its continuing relevance, and proof of India’s ‘brand differentiation’ (p. 12). The premium that these texts put on balance-of-power, the proclivity towards delivering order rather than sustaining anarchy, the nuance of reconciling contestation and collaboration, the emphasis on fairness of outcomes alongside the self-belief about action and securing end goals as the dharma of the state, and most importantly, the art of making the right choices in dilemmatic situations, render them as guideposts which illuminate a substantive non-Western canon of norms and values.

Alluding to The Mahabharata as ‘a tale of ethics as of power’, Jaishankar unpacks the text to draw out strategically useful lessons for contemporary statecraft. Incisive as the tales of the Mahabharata are, its strategic wisdom is perceptibly similar to Kautilya’s tradition of statecraft, together embodying India’s strategic cultural roots—a point which is regrettably unexploited by the author.

The similarity is particularly noticeable in the texts’ conception of political end goals,the nature of the external security environment, and the utility of the use of force and means employed to secure national interests. Importantly, ancient strategic paradigm continues to shape India’s international personality. A vision of a prosperous and secure India in a ‘multipolar world with frenemies’ still defines India’s national interests. The reconciling of the politically rational with the normative lends distinctiveness to India’s brand of realism. The killing of Jarasandha was politically rational as he posed a challenge to Yudhishtira and concurrently normative in releasing the detained prisoners and averting an ‘imminent danger’. The understanding that value of capabilities is as critical as building them, lays a premium on mantrashakti (power of counsel) and relative strength - two important pillars of Kautilyan statecraft. While internal balancing is important, tapping into power and influence of others when faced with a stronger opponent is prescribed through strategic partnerships (samavaya, in case of the Arthashastra), and natural alliances with Panchala and Matsya kingdoms are particularly highlighted. This is reminiscent of multiaxial engagement or multialignment that India has actively pursued in different issue areas. Small, unifocal adversaries, or ‘innate’ enemies in Kautilyan terms, elicit nuanced response and is evocative of India’s relations with Pakistan. The variety and simultaneity of means encapsulated in the upayas—sama, dana, bheda and danda (alliance, compensation, trickery and force) reveal a unique strategic cultural trait often confused with contradiction. The use of force as the last resort, reserved for ‘imminent danger and serial offenders’ continue to qualify India’s defence preparedness.

In a discussion on the evolution of contemporary India’s foreign policy, the author comprehensively studies six phases expounding their characteristic response to the unique global strategic environment. Cognizant of strains of both continuity and change, the author however, falls short in relating the staying elements of India’s foreign policy to basal beliefs of the texts discussed earlier—an important leg in establishing the vibrancy of strategic culture.

The constant endeavour to increase space and options to ensure prosperity and protection of people has been one of the most stable aspects of India’s international conduct which also resonates with traditional ethos. The means as diverse as optimistic nonalignment, regional assertion, economic liberalisation or multi-engagement in different phases illustrate India’s adaptability to the capability and demands of the internal realm and shifting geopolitical landscape in the external. Nonalignment, strategic autonomy and multi-engagements are all manifestations of the overriding and continuing tendency of hedging or balancing. While the author hesitates to categorise the current phase, expansion of India’s engagement in the neighbourhood, optimism about Indo-US relations, strategic outreach to South-East Asia and beyond, discovering Japan strategically, or even India’s ‘re-emerging maritime outlook’ arguably emanate from strategic considerations that have preoccupied the previous eras. However, increasing economic interdependencies, criticality of global commons to state’s prosperity, and India’s increasing global salience provide the requisite environment for India to expand its engagement with the world—an engagement which is not predicated on the narrative of victimhood, but one that seeks power with responsibility.

All three books discussed in the essay deliberate on the nuances of what may be called ‘The India Way’—a pattern of responses that disprove theoretical paradigms embedded in Western intellectual traditions. The cohesiveness of the foundational principles of ancient Indian strategic thought and their relevance across time and space provide agency to endogenous political resources. But these strategic cultural traits need to be delineated, internalised and effectively communicated for India to make a comeback on the global stage as a civilisational power—a befitting vision for a nation celebrating its 75th year of independence.