Is Journalism Dead in India? An Analytical Exploration

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Introduction

Journalism in India has been a mirror to society, reflecting its struggles, triumphs, and flaws. Today, many ask if it is dead, given the rise in censorship, attacks on reporters, and biased reporting. But was it ever truly free and vibrant? Did investigative work thrive here? Do journalists uphold ethics constantly? And how can we resurrect honest reporting? What lies ahead for Indian media?

It’s not that journalism is dead in India; it’s ailing. It faces severe pressures from concentrated ownership, shrinking safety, political interference, and economic instability. Yet, pockets of resilient, independent reporting continue to strive for truth.

India’s press freedom ranking sitting at 151 out of 180 countries in the 2025 World Press Freedom Index reflects persistent challenges. This position remains in the “very serious” category of concern worldwide.

Historical Context: Was Journalism Ever Free, Lively, and Vibrant?

Journalism in India has experienced a long struggle between freedom and control. Dissent and defiance marked its beginnings under colonial rule. In 1780, James Augustus Hickey started The Bengal Gazette. It openly criticised British officials before being shut down, which revealed the limited press freedom from the beginning. The Vernacular Press Act of 1878 put more limits on Indian newspapers, making it harder for them to oppose the government.

Nonetheless, journalism became a vital tool during the freedom movement. The Hindu and Amrita Bazar Patrika shaped public thought and encouraged opposition to British control. Mahatma Gandhi’s publications, Young India and Harijan, used simple language to spread the message of non-violence, equality, and justice, turning newspapers into instruments of change rather than just sources of information.

After independence in 1947, Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution promised freedom of expression. It placed fair limitations for security and public order. In the early decades, print journalism grew in reach and credibility. Publications like The Times of India and Indian Express expanded their influence. Regional papers played a crucial role in ensuring linguistic and cultural diversity in news. However, this freedom faced a major setback during the Emergency of 1975–77. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi imposed censorship and arrested journalists and dissenters. The period remains a reminder of how fragile press freedom can be, even in a democracy.

Television’s arrival in the 1980s added another layer to journalism. The state-controlled Doordarshan long dominated the airwaves. The entry of private broadcasters created space for more diverse reporting. However, corporate ownership and political influence began shaping content in visible ways.

So, Indian journalism has never been entirely free. It has had moments of great vibrancy, especially during the struggle for independence and in times of strong investigative reporting. Yet legal controls, political pressure, and ownership patterns have consistently placed limits on how independent the media can truly be.

Did Investigative Journalism Ever Exist in India?

Investigative journalism has always existed in India. One of the most famous examples is the Bofors scandal of 1987, when The Hindu uncovered evidence of kickbacks in a defense deal with Sweden. The exposé shook India’s political system and contributed to the Congress Party’s defeat in the 1989 elections.

In 2001, the online magazine Tehelka carried out “Operation West End,” a sting operation that revealed bribery in defense procurement. Using hidden cameras, reporters posed as arms dealers, exposing top officials accepting bribes. The revelations forced resignations and inquiries, proving how powerful investigative journalism could be in holding leaders accountable.

The 1970s also witnessed a shocking but effective form of investigative reporting. Ashwini Sarin of Indian Express exposed the horror of human trafficking by dramatically purchasing a woman from a village. His report jolted the nation and led to legislative reforms to curb trafficking. More recently, in 2021, The Wire revealed the use of Pegasus spyware on opposition leaders, journalists, and activists. These disclosures led to a Supreme Court investigation and global concerns about monitoring and privacy.

Books like A Feast of Vultures by Josy Joseph have also exposed the nexus between business, politics, and corruption. These examples show that investigative journalism in India has had real impact.

Still, this job presents problems. It could be dangerous. In the past ten years, roughly 30 journalists have been killed because of their work. Freelance journalist Mukesh Chandrakar from Chhattisgarh, who reported on corruption, was found dead in a septic tank in 2025.

Is Journalism Dead in India?

Reporters Without Borders described India’s environment as an “unofficial state of emergency.” Violence and harassment of journalists remain common. Yearly, between two and three writers perish because of their job. Officials often use tough laws, such as the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act, to threaten and arrest journalists.

Ownership patterns further complicate the picture. A handful of business groups control media in India. These groups are closely linked to political power. The takeover of NDTV by the Adani Group in 2022 symbolised the shrinking space for independent editorial voices. The consequent rise of “godi media” has undermined pluralism and created an atmosphere of propaganda.

Economic pressures make matters worse. Traditional advertising revenues have declined. Global tech platforms dominate the digital ad market, and smaller independent outlets struggle to stay afloat. Journalists have digital problems too. Websites get shut down, social media posts are silenced, and fake news hides real reporting, especially during elections.

Indian journalism is deeply scarred. It struggles under violence, censorship, and market capture. Yet there remains resistance. Outlets like The Wire, Newslaundry, and The Caravan keep redefining limits. Figures like Ravish Kumar discuss journalism’s real goal on the internet. So, while journalism is under siege, it is still alive, fighting for survival.

Journalists Upholding Professional Ethics

Even in difficult times, some journalists continue to uphold the highest ethical standards. Kuldip Nayar, who died in 2018, was a journalist of principle; he fearlessly documented the Emergency and never sacrificed his integrity. Ravish Kumar, formerly of NDTV, left mainstream television in 2022 when editorial freedom was compromised. He has now built an independent presence online. He often says, “Journalism is not about power; it’s about people,” reminding his audience that the profession’s core duty is to the public, not to rulers.

Josy Joseph has consistently produced investigative reporting free from political or corporate influence. His work on corruption and cronyism has won national and international recognition. Gauri Lankesh, a brave journalist, and activist, combatted communalism and was killed for it in 2017. Her death remains a symbol of the dangers faced by ethical voices, but also of the need for their courage.

How to Restore Ethical, Professional Journalism

Restoring journalism in India requires a combination of institutional reform, legal protection, financial innovation, and public support. The Press Council of India, which oversees media ethics, should be given stronger powers to enforce standards rather than remaining a largely symbolic body.

Independence must be safeguarded by limiting cross-ownership of media by politically connected corporations. Establishing trust-based or publicly funded models could provide financial stability to independent outlets. Misuse of harsh laws like UAPA or sedition provisions must stop, and journalists must be legally shielded from arbitrary arrests.

Investigations into attacks on journalists must be swift and transparent, and support systems such as legal aid or shelters should be made available to those under threat. To ensure financial viability, subscription models, reader donations, and non-profit newsrooms can help reduce dependence on advertisers. Fair regulation of digital advertising platforms can ensure that revenue flows to content creators.

Digital technology like AI can help with fact-checking, translation, and archiving, but must be regulated to prevent bias and manipulation. Citizen journalism, now widespread because of mobile access, should be supported with training and verification mechanisms to strengthen credibility.

Finally, media literacy programs can help audiences distinguish between credible journalism and misinformation. Community-based reporting can strengthen trust between media and the people they serve. Bodies such as the Editors Guild of India should keep advocating for freedom and accountability, so journalism stays a key part of democracy.

The Future of Journalism in India

The future of journalism in India remains uncertain but not without hope. Digital platforms are expanding rapidly, with hundreds of millions expected to consume news online in the coming years. The rise of regional journalism highlights India’s diverse languages and makes news more relevant.

Newsrooms will see more artificial intelligence, which will do routine transcription and translation. However, human oversight will remain essential to ensure fairness and accuracy. Journalism is also likely to diversify in form, with hyper-local outlets, podcasts, community-funded projects, and hybrid models gaining strength. Social media will facilitate citizen journalists. But professionals must verify and contextualise their work to maintain credibility.

In a time of misinformation and propaganda, journalism that stays true to facts and fairness may regain public confidence, turning credibility into its greatest strength. Still, obstacles remain: political attacks, surveillance, changing platform algorithms, and economic fragility could all undermine progress. Whether journalism thrives again will depend on the combined will of journalists, civil society, lawmakers, and the public to protect and support it.

The way forward requires a multifaceted push. Legal reform, ethical reinforcement, economic innovation, and public engagement should converge to reinvigorate Indian journalism. This will help fulfil the Constitutional promise and democratic duty.

As Mahatma Gandhi once warned, “The press is a great power, but… an uncontrolled pen serves but to destroy.” Today, it is our responsibility to support, reform, and amplify that pen—ethically, safely, and boldly, for the betterment of Indian democracy.

Gauri Lankesh, Arnab Goswami, Ravish Kumar, Shekhar Gupta, Newslaundry, The Wire, NDTV, Indian Express, The Hindu, Amrita Bazar Patrika, The Times of India, Mahatma Gandhi

The Meridian Highway: What It Means for India and the World

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The world is changing faster than ever, and old ideas about geopolitics, geostrategy, and trade are being reshaped. The world economy is splitting into blocs. Trade and investment are now growing faster within friendly groups than across rivals, and supply chains are shifting to trusted partners. This makes the system more shock-resistant but less efficient. UNCTAD reported global trade at about 33 trillion dollars in 2024, with growth into 2025, but warned of volatility. The WTO also cut trade forecasts in April 2025 due to tariff risks and shipping troubles. Corridors like Meridian, EWC, INSTC, and IMEC must work in this environment.

Nations are urgently seeking new trade routes and reliable partners. The Meridian Highway is one such big project. It is a privately financed toll road planned across western Russia, from the Kazakhstan–Russia border to the Belarus–Russia border. This highway will form Russia’s section of the Europe–Western China (EWC) corridor, an 8,000 km route designed to connect China, Central Asia, Russia, and the European Union more quickly. If completed, it will let trucks move across Russia without passing through major cities, reducing fuel use and travel time. The project is expected to cost over 600 billion rubles, supported by private investors and development banks. Though delays have slowed progress, land acquisition and design work continue, showing its importance to Eurasian trade and connectivity.

How Meridian fits into the Europe–Western China corridor

The project is a stitched route of highways and expressways running from Lianyungang in China to Kazakhstan, Russia and Belarus. The EWC vision promises roughly 10–12 days for door-to-door trucking between northeastern China and European markets—several weeks faster than ocean freight during normal times—though real-world performance depends on border procedures, road conditions and demand. Russia and China have also been upgrading cross-border bridges and links that feed various corridors. These investments do not replace Meridian, but they help channel cargo into overland routes that Meridian aims to carry westward.

Where the project stands in 2025

The picture in mid-2025 is mixed. The Meridian project faces several formidable obstacles. The fundraising environment has toughened after 2022 because of sanctions. The preparatory work, like land acquisition, design and environmental studies, has not completed.

Why Meridian Counts Beyond Russia

The Meridian Highway is more than a road across Russia. It represents a big shift in how trade and strategy are being shaped in Eurasia.

After Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, Moscow worked hard to cut dependence on Western markets and move trade toward Asia. China became its key partner. Bilateral trade surged to a record 240–245 billion dollars in 2023–24. In early 2025, trade dipped about 9% year-on-year but stayed much higher than pre-2022 levels. A direct road to Europe through Russia, linked to China via Kazakhstan, matches this pivot perfectly. It makes trade faster and less vulnerable to sanctions.

China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) includes many road, rail, and port projects across Eurasia. Russia promotes Meridian as its own project, but it overlaps with BRI routes and China’s Europe–Western China (EWC) corridor map. Even if China does not fund it directly, the road serves Beijing’s goals. It helps exports move faster and reduces dependence on vulnerable routes like the Red Sea or Suez Canal. These concerns became urgent after disruptions in global shipping since 2023.

If goods can travel from Asia to Europe by truck in just 10–12 days with smooth customs, then shipping sanctions or blockades lose some power. This explains why the U.S., Europe, and Japan watch Meridian closely. They are also developing rival projects like the India–Middle East–Europe Economic Corridor (IMEC) to avoid over-reliance on Russian or Chinese routes.

Europe faces a tough choice. A reliable land route could cut costs and delivery times for European industries. But it would also deepen reliance on Russia and indirectly on China. This clashes with Europe’s strategy of sanctioning Russia and reducing dependence on Chinese technology and goods. In 2024, the EU imposed duties on Chinese electric vehicles, showing its harder line. By 2025, these measures were advancing toward final approval.

For the U.S., Meridian weakens its leverage over global shipping and makes sanctions harder to enforce. Washington has tightened secondary sanctions on Russia’s trade since 2022, including targeting Chinese banks and firms. Japan, meanwhile, pushes supply chain diversification. It supports Central Asian routes that avoid Russia and invests more in Southeast Asia while aligning with the U.S. and EU.

What This Means for India

Economic Stakes

India is not part of the Meridian or the Europe–Western China (EWC) corridor. This is a challenge. For exporters in western and northern India, reaching Central Asia and eastern Europe will remain slower and costlier compared to China once Meridian is ready. To avoid losing out, India must make its own land–sea routes faster, cheaper, and more reliable. Otherwise, China-led networks will gain a strong timing advantage.

India’s trade with Central Asia is still small, though it has been growing. China dominates this region. To reduce the gap, India has been building its own alternatives. The key projects are the International North–South Transport Corridor (INSTC) through Iran and Azerbaijan, and access to Iran’s Chabahar Port. A major step came in May 2024 when India signed a 10-year deal to develop and run Chabahar. This port is crucial because it gives India reliable entry to Central Asia without depending on Pakistan’s routes.

Another option is the India–Middle East–Europe Corridor (IMEC). It was first announced at the G20 summit in New Delhi in September 2023. But conflicts in the Middle East have delayed progress. Still, both European and American officials keep supporting the idea. In February 2025, the EU and India discussed IMEC as a long-term diversification plan. Real progress will depend on political stability, and its rollout will likely be slow and phased.

India also sees Central Asia as a key source of minerals like lithium, cobalt, and rare earth elements. These are vital for batteries, electronics, and clean-energy technology. In January 2025, India launched a National Critical Minerals Mission (NCMM). It is now seeking cooperation with Central Asian states for joint exploration and supply. This was highlighted during the 4th India–Central Asia Dialogue held in New Delhi in June 2025. Competing with China requires India to secure dependable mineral supplies along with strong trade routes.

India does not need to build a copy of Meridian. Instead, it must cut travel time, improve reliability, and lower total costs on its own routes—especially INSTC through Chabahar and IMEC when possible. Exporters will choose corridors that deliver speed and certainty.

Security and Diplomacy

If Meridian is completed, it will add to the growing trade links between Russia and China. For India, this creates a strategic challenge. Russia is India’s historic arms supplier, but China is its main security rival. India must balance by keeping good ties with Moscow while slowly reducing dependence on Russian weapons. Although imports from Russia have declined, they are still significant.

As the West increases sanctions on Russia, Indian companies working near these routes will need strong compliance systems. Otherwise, they risk secondary sanctions. This will become more important if land corridors are used to bypass maritime checks.

India has been deepening ties with the five Central Asian republics. The June 2025 dialogue in New Delhi covered counter-terrorism, connectivity, and critical minerals. This shows India’s approach: combine economics and security. Secure transport links will bring resources to India, while joint security work will keep those links safe.

What India Should Do Next

The world is changing fast. Big infrastructure projects like Russia’s Meridian Highway are reshaping trade routes. For India, the challenge is to respond with practical steps that strengthen its own position.

India already has a long-term agreement to operate Chabahar port. The focus now should be on action. Berth capacity and equipment at Shahid Beheshti terminal must be expanded. Customs systems should be digitised quickly to save time. Regular feeder services from India’s west coast need to be locked in. On the INSTC (International North-South Transport Corridor), India should push for smooth transit through Iran, Azerbaijan and Russia. Dry ports, customs checks and commercial contracts must be predictable and reliable. None of this requires a big geopolitical breakthrough—it only needs efficient execution.

The India–Middle East–Europe Corridor (IMEC) faces political uncertainty. Instead of waiting for perfect conditions, India should begin with the pieces that can work now, like the India–UAE–East Mediterranean link. Using existing rail and ports can reduce costs. High-risk sections can be treated as later phases. Keeping the EU engaged helps with funding and setting global standards.

Central Asia has critical minerals that India needs for future industries. Recent dialogues have opened opportunities, but money and effort are required. India should invest in joint surveys, secure long-term supply agreements, and build processing capacity at home. This will stop raw ores from being shipped out to other countries and reduce dependence on China. It will also tie Central Asia to India’s economic growth.

India must carefully balance its defence and connectivity strategies. On defence, it should secure Russian spares and stockpiles, diversify suppliers, expand co-production with partners, and speed up indigenous programmes to keep options open. Meridian shows how strategy and infrastructure intertwine. For India, Eurasia is not about one corridor but many, and its real strength will come from dependable execution and integration with global trade networks rather than symbolic ribbon-cuttings.

Meridian Highway, China, Russia, Belarus, Belt and Road Initiative, India–Middle East–Europe Corridor, International North-South Transport Corridor, European Union, Azerbaijan, Pakistan, Europe–Western China, Infrastructure, Tariffs, Ukraine, Moscow, Putin, Trump, Zelensky, Middle East, Shahid Baheshti, Chabahar, UNCTAD, WTO

Is Asim Munir Ignoring Saddam Hussein’s Fate and Courting Catastrophe?

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Power drunk military dictators often combine arrogance with poor judgment. They mistake diplomatic ambiguity—or even polite gestures—as silent approval for risky moves, dragging their nations into crises with no easy escape. This problem is systemic: unchecked power blinds them to reality and silences voices that could warn against overreach. U.S. leaders have repeatedly used such flaws in Asia and Africa to their advantage. In 1990, Iraqi President Saddam Hussein misread U.S. intentions after meeting Ambassador April Glaspie, taking her vague remarks on Kuwait as a green light to invade. The result was a disastrous war that left Iraq isolated and ruined, benefiting America. In 2025, Pakistan’s Army Chief, Field Marshal Asim Munir, seems to be repeating the pattern—raising nuclear threats against India after high-profile U.S. meetings. Both men mistook ambiguous U.S. diplomacy for endorsement. History shows such missteps rarely end well.

Saddam Hussein and the Glaspie Misreading

By mid-1990, Iraq and Kuwait were locked in bitter disputes over oil production, pricing policies, and Iraq’s demand that Kuwait forgive debts from the Iran–Iraq War. In this tense climate, Iraqi President Saddam Hussein met U.S. Ambassador April Glaspie on July 25, 1990. Glaspie’s remark that the U.S. had “no opinion on the Arab–Arab conflicts” was meant to signal neutrality, not support. She also expressed hope for a peaceful resolution. Yet, whether her account was truthful remains disputed.

Saddam chose to interpret her words as silent approval. On August 2, Iraqi forces invaded Kuwait. The global response was immediate: the UN imposed sanctions, and the U.S. built an unprecedented coalition that launched Operation Desert Storm in January 1991. Iraq’s defeat was crushing—its military crippled and economy devastated. The speed of America’s reaction suggests a preplanned trap, especially given U.S. oil interests.

Glaspie later told the Senate she had warned Saddam against force, adding, “We foolishly did not realise he was stupid.” Many see this as disingenuous. Saddam, once favoured by the U.S., had angered Washington by refusing to privatise Iraq’s national oil company. After his fall, major Western oil giants, including ExxonMobil, Chevron, BP, and Shell, swiftly moved in, alongside American oil service firms like Halliburton.

Historians view the Glaspie meeting as a textbook case of how authoritarian leaders, blinded by ego, can mistake diplomatic vagueness for a green light. Saddam’s miscalculation triggered a chain of events that led to his overthrow and execution. The lesson is clear: in geopolitics, reading ambiguity as approval can destroy both a leader and a nation.

Asim Munir’s Nuclear Rhetoric After U.S. Engagement

In 2025, a situation reminiscent of past geopolitical blunders seems to be taking shape in South Asia. Pakistan’s Army Chief, Field Marshal Asim Munir—effectively the country’s ruler—was hosted for a rare private lunch with U.S. President Donald Trump at the White House, the first such meeting in over a decade. Discussions reportedly covered trade, economic cooperation, cryptocurrency, and rare earth minerals. For Washington, it appeared to be about exploring cooperation in the changing Indo-Pacific landscape, not endorsing Pakistan’s strategic ambitions.

Two months later, on August 10, Munir spoke at a Pakistani diaspora event in Tampa, Florida, making an alarming statement: “If we think we are going down, we’ll take half the world down with us.” This was widely understood as a nuclear threat, with India the likely target. He also threatened to destroy India’s Indus River infrastructure and Jamnagar refinery.

India’s Ministry of External Affairs condemned the remarks as “irresponsible nuclear sabre-rattling.” In the U.S., former Pentagon official Michael Rubin called Munir “Osama bin Laden in a suit” and urged a review of Pakistan’s nuclear security.

The episode unfolded alongside a controversial U.S. decision to label the Balochistan Liberation Army a terrorist group—a move critics saw as favouring Pakistan. Whether Munir’s words were political theatre or a genuine warning, they risk deepening Pakistan’s isolation, provoking sanctions, and prompting adversaries to consider preemptive action.

Saddam vs. Munir: A Pattern of Authoritarian Misjudgment

The parallels between Saddam Hussein in 1990 and Asim Munir in 2025 reveal a familiar pattern of authoritarian misjudgment. Saddam, after meeting U.S. Ambassador April Glaspie, took America’s declared neutrality on Arab–Arab disputes as a green light to invade Kuwait, leading to international isolation, the Gulf War, and his eventual downfall. Similarly, Munir’s private lunch with U.S. President Donald Trump—intended as warm, transactional engagement on economic cooperation—appears to have been interpreted as licence for nuclear brinkmanship against India, including threats of strikes and economic sabotage. In both cases, authoritarian power structures insulated the leaders from dissent, encouraging them to misread Washington’s intentions and prompting actions that risked uniting powerful coalitions against them.

The Systemic Roots of the Problem

The recurring nature of such miscalculations points to a deeper problem. Authoritarian leaders, particularly military rulers, often operate inside echo chambers where subordinates are too fearful to challenge flawed assumptions. This creates a feedback loop in which diplomatic signals—however nuanced—are filtered through a lens of personal ambition and strategic overconfidence.

As political scientist Barbara Geddes has noted, military regimes are especially prone to overestimating their international leverage because they “draw legitimacy from the perception of strength” and cannot afford to appear weak without risking domestic instability. In such environments, diplomatic ambiguity becomes dangerous: it is less likely to be interpreted as caution and more likely to be spun as validation.

The historical record offers other examples. Mussolini’s belief that Britain would not oppose his ambitions in the Mediterranean led to disastrous campaigns in Greece and North Africa. Libya’s Muammar Gaddafi, misjudging Western tolerance for his defiance, provoked interventions that ultimately ended his rule. In each case, the dictator’s isolation from reality proved fatal.

Munir Should Learn from the Fates of his predecessors

Asim Munir would do well to study how Washington has treated Pakistan’s past leaders—and how most of them met unhappy ends.

Liaquat Ali Khan, Pakistan’s first Prime Minister (1947–1951), chose Washington over Moscow for his first major state visit in 1950, aligning with the West. In return, the U.S. gave economic aid, military training, and diplomatic backing. He was assassinated in 1951.

Ayub Khan (1958–1969) joined U.S.-led alliances SEATO and CENTO, and even allowed U.S. spy bases in Pakistan. Aid poured in, but relations soured after the 1965 war with India, and he retired in disgrace.

Yahya Khan (1969–1971) helped open U.S.–China relations but lost U.S. usefulness after Pakistan’s 1971 defeat and breakup.

Zulfikar Ali Bhutto (1973–1977) kept ties with Washington but clashed over nuclear ambitions. Kissinger allegedly threatened to make him a “horrible example.” He was hanged.

Zia-ul-Haq (1978–1988) became America’s key ally in the Soviet–Afghan War, receiving billions in aid. He died in a mysterious plane crash, with CIA involvement suspected. 

Benazir Bhutto (1988–1990, 1993–1996) gained U.S. favour but lost it over nuclear issues and militant ties. She was assassinated in 2007.

Nawaz Sharif (1990–1993, 1997–1999) enjoyed U.S. support until nuclear tests in 1998 led to sanctions. After the Kargil conflict, Washington approved Musharraf’s coup against him.

Pervez Musharraf (2001–2008) cooperated fully in the War on Terror, earning billions in aid, but U.S. support faded, and he was ousted.

The pattern is clear: Washington’s friendship is transactional, and once a Pakistani leader outlives their strategic usefulness, they are discarded—often violently.

The Risks for Pakistan

Pakistan today faces severe economic fragility. Its foreign reserves are thin, debt repayments are mounting, and it depends heavily on international goodwill for trade, investment, and aid. Munir’s nuclear threats jeopardise all of these. They risk driving India, the United States, and other powers toward a unified policy of containment or even coercion.

Moreover, such rhetoric undermines Pakistan’s own diplomatic narrative. For decades, Islamabad has sought to portray itself as a responsible nuclear power and a victim of Indian aggression. Openly threatening to “take half the world down” shatters that image and strengthens India’s argument that Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal is in unsafe hands.

It also raises questions in Washington. While Trump’s personal diplomacy is often idiosyncratic, the U.S. strategic establishment remains sensitive to nuclear proliferation risks. If Munir’s threats are taken at face value, they could prompt calls in Congress and the Pentagon to reassess Pakistan’s nuclear security—possibly even to prepare contingency plans for neutralising the arsenal in a crisis.

Conclusion: History’s Warning

Saddam Hussein’s 1990 invasion of Kuwait and Asim Munir’s 2025 nuclear threats share a common flaw: misreading U.S. intentions. Saddam mistook April Glaspie’s neutral words as approval, leading to a war that wrecked Iraq’s military, shattered its economy, and ended in his execution. Munir may be making a similar error, seeing Trump’s warmth as a green light for aggression. This risks isolating Pakistan, hurting its economy, and provoking conflict with India. In today’s world, diplomatic signals are complex and often transactional, not unconditional. Leaders with unchecked power must read them carefully. Ambiguity is not endorsement, and arrogance is not strategy. Saddam’s downfall is not just history—it is a clear warning Munir should not ignore.

Saddam Hussein, Iraq, Asim Munir, Osama Bin Laden, Pervez Musharraf, Nawaz Sharif, Benazir Bhutto, Zia-ul-Haq, Pakistan, Operation Desert Storm, Nuclear Threat, Indus Waters, BLA, TRF, Terrorism, Pulwama, Ayub Khan, Yahya Khan, Liaquat Ali, Barbara Geddes, April Glaspie, Donald Trump, Tampa, Kuwait

8 South Indian Dynasties That Shaped India’s History

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The Chola Empire dominates the history of South India. It was known for its naval strength, temples, and governance. 

Vijayalaya Chola (850–871 CE) established the Chola dynasty after seizing Thanjavur. His son Aditya I (871–907 CE) conquered the Pallavas. Aditya’s successor Parantaka I (907–955 CE) expanded the empire into Andhra and Karnataka, minted coins, and annexed Madurai. Rajaraja I (985–1014 CE) was another great king.  He expanded Chola power into Sri Lanka and Kerala, constructed the magnificent Brihadeeswara Temple (a UNESCO site), and overhauled governance and the armed forces. His son, Rajendra I (1014–1044 CE), brought the empire to its apex by conquering areas of Southeast Asia and Bengal; he also created Gangaikondacholapuram. His successor Rajadhiraja I (1044–1052 CE) died in battle, but Rajendra II (1052–1064 CE) bolstered naval might. Kulottunga I (1070–1120 CE) aimed for stability by merging dynasties, enhancing trade, and overhauling land administration. The final great king, Kulottunga III (1178–1218 CE), brought back Chola glory, championed the arts, and constructed temples. These emperors transformed the Chola Empire into a cultural and political powerhouse.

The influence of Cholas spread across Sri Lanka, Southeast Asia, and reached China. The Chola period was remarkable for the role of temple economies, merchant guilds like the Five Hundred, and local assemblies in sustaining the empire. There were powerful women like Sembiyan Mahadevi and Loka Mahadevi, who actively participated in politics and culture. Wars and conquests were as much the hallmarks of Chola history as were cultural and literary sophistication. Remarkably, temples were political tools that weaved strong bonds between the ruler and the ruled. Chola religious practices were rigid and orthodox.

No wonder, Cholas dominate South India’s history. But there were other great dynasties that made invaluable contributions to culture, politics and economy.

The Cheras: Maritime Trade and Cultural Patronage

The Sangam literature mentions Chera dynasty. It held sway over the Malabar Coast in present-day Kerala and parts of western Tamil Nadu. The Cheras carved their legacy through maritime trade, particularly with the Romans, Arabs, and Chinese. Muziris, a port city under the Cheras, became a hub of global trade long before Europe’s colonial expansion.

Chera kings like Senguttuvan are remembered for their diplomacy, trade and cultural achievements. His brother Ilango Adigal patronised the Tamil epic Silappatikaram. This underscores the dynasty’s support for literary and religious developments, particularly Jainism and Buddhism. In comparison to the Cholas’ emphasis on monumental temples, the Cheras’ legacy lies more in commercial diplomacy and cross-cultural fertilisation.

The Pandyas: Urban Prosperity and Political Resilience

Pandyas predate the Cholas. They ruled from Madurai and thrived during several phases—from the Sangam era to the late medieval period. The Pandyas are celebrated for their administrative system, rich literary patronage, and architectural contributions, such as the Meenakshi Temple in Madurai.

While the early Pandyas focused on Sangam poetry and Tamil cultural nationalism, the later Pandyas (13th–14th century) demonstrated military might by defeating the Hoysalas and occupying parts of Sri Lanka. Despite suffering invasions from the Delhi Sultanate and internal dissent, the Pandyas consistently revived themselves, indicating a political resilience absent in many contemporaneous dynasties.

Unlike the Cholas’ aggressive expansionism, the Pandyas projected a model of regional consolidation. Their cities were cosmopolitan centres of learning and commerce, and their administration was inclusive of various castes and sects, showcasing a pluralistic outlook.

The Pallavas: Temple Architecture and Intellectual Flourishing

The Pallavas ruled from Kanchipuram between the 3rd and 9th centuries CE. They laid the architectural and ideological groundwork that would later be expanded by the Cholas. Pallava rulers like Mahendravarman I and Narasimhavarman I were patrons of the arts, Sanskrit literature, and philosophy, particularly Shaivism.

The hallmark of Pallava contributions lies in rock-cut and structural temples, including those at Mahabalipuram, which are now UNESCO World Heritage Sites. These temples display the first known Dravidian-style architectural blueprints, later perfected by the Cholas.

The Pallavas were engaged in constant warfare with the Chalukyas of Badami and the Kalabhras. Yet they controlled northern Tamil Nadu and parts of Andhra Pradesh. Unlike the maritime dominance of the Cholas, the Pallavas were more focused on inland consolidation and cultural development.

The Kadambas and Western Gangas: Foundations of Kannada Culture

The Kadambas of Banavasi (4th–6th centuries CE) were among the earliest indigenous dynasties to use Kannada in administration. They laid the foundation for regional linguistic pride. Similarly, the Western Gangas (4th–10th centuries CE), though often subordinate to larger powers like the Chalukyas and Rashtrakutas, maintained a distinct cultural identity in southern Karnataka.

The Gangas are especially noted for their Jain patronage. They built the monolithic Bahubali statue at Shravanabelagola—one of the largest free-standing statues in the world. Their legal and administrative systems, recorded in Kannada inscriptions, predate those of later empires like Vijayanagara.

In comparison, the Cholas, although tolerant of different faiths, were primarily Shaivite and favoured Tamil for royal inscriptions. The Gangas and Kadambas, therefore, highlight a different linguistic and religious trajectory in the south.

The Rashtrakutas: Imperial Reach and Cosmopolitanism

The Rashtrakutas (8th–10th centuries CE) originated in the Deccan. They were formidable warriors and ruled over vast territories across South and Central India. They were also patrons of art and learning. The Kailasanatha temple at Ellora, carved from a single rock, is a testament to their architectural vision.

Unlike the Cholas who emphasised Tamil and Dravidian culture, the Rashtrakutas sponsored works in Sanskrit, Prakrit, and Kannada. Their court poet, Pampa, composed in Kannada and elevated the language to literary status. They were instrumental in shaping a pan-Indian cosmopolitan imperial ideal.

Economically, Rashtrakutas benefitted from both agrarian revenues and trade routes linking the Arabian Sea to the Bay of Bengal. While the Cholas were sea-focused, the Rashtrakutas used inland trade to consolidate power. Their ability to hold such a diverse empire together with limited maritime ambitions distinguishes their model of empire-building.

The Hoysalas: Artistic Zenith and Transitional Glory

Hoysalas rose to power in the 11th century after the decline of the Western Chalukyas. They ruled over parts of Karnataka and Tamil Nadu. The dynasty reached its zenith under rulers like Vishnuvardhana and Veera Ballal II. Though not as expansive as the Cholas, the Hoysalas left a profound legacy in architecture.

Temples at Belur, Halebidu, and Somanathapura represent the pinnacle of intricate stone carving and temple design. Their support for both Shaivism and Vaishnavism, and the use of Kannada and Sanskrit in inscriptions and literature, reflect a synthesis of religious and linguistic pluralism.

The Hoysalas were often caught between larger powers like the Cholas and the Pandyas. But their cultural and military presence remained strong until the advent of the Delhi Sultanate in the south. Their legacy in temple architecture remains unrivalled in detail and craftsmanship.

The Vijayanagara Empire: Political Consolidation and Cultural Renaissance

Harihara and Bukka of the Sangama dynasty founded the Vijayanagara Empire (14th–17th centuries). It was arguably the most powerful South Indian empire after the Cholas. It represented a synthesis of regional cultures. Vijayanagara emerged in response to the repeated invasions by the Delhi Sultanate and became a bulwark of Hindu political identity in the Deccan.

The empire saw illustrious rulers like Krishnadevaraya who expanded its frontiers across Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka, and Telangana. Vijayanagara’s capital, Hampi, was described by foreign travellers as one of the wealthiest and most magnificent cities in the world.

Vijayanagara integrated Kannada, Telugu, and Tamil traditions and stood as a symbol of resistance to northern invasions. Their architecture blended Chalukya, Hoysala, Pandya, and Chola styles. Their decline following the Battle of Talikota in 1565 marked the end of a golden era in South Indian history.

Comparative Reflections

When we compare these dynasties with the Cholas, we see differences and similarities in many areas such as land control, sea power, art, administration, language, and religion. The Cholas had the widest reach, especially overseas, thanks to their strong navy. However, the Rashtrakutas and Vijayanagara rulers held more land inland over longer periods. The Cheras and Cholas were both active in sea trade, but only the Cholas had a full naval force that conquered places like Sri Lanka and parts of Southeast Asia. In arts and culture, the Pallavas led in temple design, the Rashtrakutas supported diverse literature, and the Hoysalas were known for their detailed stone carvings. The Cholas and Pandyas promoted Tamil. The Rashtrakutas, Gangas, and Hoysalas supported Kannada, while Vijayanagara rulers embraced Tamil, Telugu, and Kannada. Religiously, most dynasties supported Shaivism, but Jainism was encouraged by the Gangas and Kadambas. Vaishnavism received support from the Hoysalas and Vijayanagara kings.

Conclusion

To conclude, while the Cholas deserve admiration for their pioneering naval conquests, administrative structure, and temple construction, they were not the only torchbearers of South Indian glory. The Cheras’ trade diplomacy, the Pandyas’ cultural resilience, the Pallavas’ architectural innovation, the Rashtrakutas’ imperial cosmopolitanism, the Gangas’ religious patronage, the Hoysalas’ artistic intricacy, and the Vijayanagara Empire’s political consolidation together constitute a complex and glorious mosaic of South India’s history.

South Indian history is a rich interplay of dynasties, each contributing to the region’s civilisational wealth in distinct and complementary ways. This layered past continues to influence India’s cultural, linguistic, and religious landscape even today.

Chola Empire, South Indian dynasties, Chera dynasty, Pandya dynasty, Pallavas, Rashtrakutas, Hoysalas, Vijayanagara Empire, ancient Indian history, Tamil culture, Kannada heritage, temple architecture, Jain patronage, Hampi, naval power.