Guest contributor
Shalini Perumal
On December 28, as the cameras flashed in Naypyidaw, the images captured a tableau that would send ripples through the chancelleries of Southeast Asia and the West.
There, standing amidst the military pageantry of Myanmar’s first general election since the 2021 coup, was retired Indian Army Commander Lt Gen Arun Kumar Sahni.
He was welcomed by the Union Election Commission (UEC), feted by the Junta, and featured prominently in the regime-run Global New Light of Myanmar (GNLM).
To the casual observer, the message was unambiguous: India, the world’s largest democracy, was present to witness, and perhaps tacitly validate, a sham exercise in “guided democracy” orchestrated by an illegal military regime.
Yet, less than twenty-four hours later, the narrative from New Delhi was starkly different.
“No official status,” the Indian government sources insisted. The Ministry of External Affairs (MEA) clarified that these were private individuals, present on their own accord, distinct from the official delegations sent by Russia and China.
This sharp divergence—between the visual reality of an Indian general in Naypyidaw and the diplomatic denial in New Delhi—encapsulates the wishy washy skeleton of India’s foreign policy in its eastern neighborhood.
This incident is not merely a bureaucratic mix-up or a case of rogue travelers. It represents the crystallization of India’s current strategic posture towards Myanmar: a policy of “calculated ambiguity.”
The episode of the “shadow observers” offers a rare window into the tightrope walk of a regional power trying to hold its ground against Chinese encroachment without fully embracing a pariah regime.
To understand the weight of this moment, one must look beyond the official denials and examine the semiotics of the visit itself. The choice of observers was not accidental. Lt Gen Arun Kumar Sahni is not a low-level bureaucrat or a cultural envoy; he is a former high-ranking military commander.
In the context of Myanmar, where the military regime is the sole locus of power, sending a fellow military man—even a retired one—is a specific cultural and diplomatic signal. It speaks a language the illegal regime understands and respects: the language of security, hierarchy, tyranny and order.
Regime media, desperate for international legitimacy, naturally seized upon this. By grouping Sahni and strategic commentator Atul Aneja with official envoys like Russian Deputy Chairman Kara-ool Sholban and Chinese Special Envoy Deng Xijun, the regime constructed a narrative of broad Asian support.
They utilized the Indian presence to dilute the optics of isolation.
New Delhi’s subsequent denial of “official status” serves as a diplomatic firewall. It is a classic tool of statecraft known as plausible deniability. By categorizing the visit as private, the government attempts to insulate itself from the inevitable backlash from Western capitals and human rights organizations.
It allows Indian diplomats to sit in meetings in Washington or Brussels and truthfully say, “The Government of India did not observe these elections.”
However, as former Indian ambassador Gautam Mukhopadhaya astutely noted to The Wire, “It is curious that we say that a three-star ex-general is not an official nominee and the Myanmar government is treating it as an official endorsement.”
Critics, including voices within India’s diplomatic community, have labeled this posture as “wishy-washy,” suggesting a lack of conviction. This critique is rooted in the contrast between India’s stance and the clear-cut positions taken by other global players.
On one side lies the “authoritarian bloc”—Russia and China—who have thrown their weight behind the regime, providing not just observers but weaponry and diplomatic cover.
Their stance is clear: regime survival is in their interest. On the other side lies the “democratic bloc”—the West and member states of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) like Indonesia or Malaysia—who have denounced the election as a sham, citing the exclusion of Aung San Suu Kyi and the National League for Democracy (NLD).
Their stance is equally clear: the process is illegitimate.
India stands alone in the murky middle. It calls for a free, fair, and inclusive” elections—a standard the 2025 polls demonstrably failed to meet—yet sends “private” observers who lend the process credibility.
This middle path often looks like indecision. As Mukhopadhaya argues, it “betrays a lack of conviction… and a desire to please both sides.”
However, to dismiss this merely as indecision is to overlook the intense strategic pressures driving New Delhi. This is not necessarily backtracking in the sense of a mistake being corrected; rather, it is Realpolitik in its rawest form.
India appears to be attempting to pursue two contradictory goals simultaneously:
- Maintaining its image as a democracy that supports the rights of the Myanmar people.
- Ensuring the Myanmar military does not become a wholly-owned subsidiary of Beijing.
The specter haunting India’s policy in Myanmar is China. The crux of the issue: Beijing’s deep, multi-layered involvement with the regime. From the China-Myanmar Economic Corridor (CMEC) to the pipelines connecting Yunnan to the Bay of Bengal, China’s stakes are existential.
If India were to take the high moral ground—boycotting the elections and cutting ties with the regime —it would essentially vacate the field. In the zero-sum game of Asian geopolitics, an Indian exit is a Chinese entry.
A Myanmar completely dependent on China is a nightmare scenario for Indian defense planners. It would mean an unsecure 1,643-kilometer border, a safe haven for northeast Indian insurgent groups, and a hostile neighbor dominating the Bay of Bengal.
Therefore, the presence of Lt Gen Sahni, as an official observer or not, is a message to Naypyidaw: India is still here. It is a reassurance that despite the rhetoric of democracy, New Delhi will not abandon the regime in Naypyidaw.
This is a defensive move, born of the anxiety that the West’s sanctions-heavy approach drives Myanmar further into China’s orbit—a consequence the West can afford, but appears India cannot.
While the strategic logic of India’s unofficial engagement is sound from a security perspective, the moral and long-term political costs are steep. By engaging with the regime that is orchestrating a brutal civil war that has claimed 90,000 lives, India is alienating the people of Myanmar.
The memories of 1988 are instructive. When the pro-democracy movement was crushed then, India initially supported the students, only to later pivot to engaging the military in the 1990s.
Today, the Myanmar public, armed with smartphones and deeply connected to the global diaspora, watches these moves closely. The equation of India with the authoritarian backers of the regime damages India’s soft power.
India has historically enjoyed a reservoir of goodwill in Myanmar as the land of the Buddha and a fellow democracy. Squandering this goodwill for short-term tactical access to the generals is a gamble.
If the resistance forces—who have shown remarkable resilience and territorial gains—eventually prevail or force a stalemate, India will find itself on the wrong side of history, viewed as an enabler of their oppressors.
Furthermore, the domestic optics are jarring. India prides itself on being the “Mother of Democracy.” Prime Minister Narendra Modi publicly congratulated Aung San Suu Kyi in 2015 and 2020. To now see Indian representatives validating an election where she is barred and imprisoned suggests a flexibility of principle that is hypocritical.
India’s position is further complicated by the fragmentation of ASEAN. The regional bloc, usually the driver of policy on Myanmar, is deeply divided. With Thailand, Vietnam, and Cambodia advocating engagement, and Indonesia and Singapore pushing for isolation, there is no ASEAN consensus for India to hide behind.
India has seemingly aligned itself with the engagement faction led by Thailand, Vietnam, and Cambodia but lacks the boldness to do so officially.
Interestingly, the Trump administration’s shift adds another layer of complexity. If the U.S. is indeed softening its stance—viewing the elections as “notable progress” or at least a pretext for disengagement—India’s engagement might actually be ahead of the curve.
It suggests a global fatigue with the Myanmar conflict and a creeping acceptance that the regime, however detestable, is a reality that must be managed rather than merely shunned.
If Washington pivots to a more transactional relationship with Naypyidaw to counter China, India’s current stance may retroactively be viewed as prudent pragmatism.
Was it a backtracking? No. It was a calculated hedge. Was it wishy-washy? Morally, yes.
New Delhi is betting that it can maintain a working relationship with Naypyidaw through private channels while maintaining official distance to satisfy democratic norms.
It is a high-wire act. The risk is that in trying to please everyone, India ends up with no leverage over the regime, who prefer the reliable backing of China, and no trust from the people, who feel betrayed by a hypocritical democracy.
The “No Official Status” disclaimer is a thin shield. As the civil war grinds on and the polarization in Myanmar deepens, the space for such ambiguity will shrink.
Eventually, India will be forced to choose between the generals who control the capital and the people who control the country.
Until then, we can expect more “shadow diplomacy”—where retired generals go where serving diplomats cannot, and where India tries to be present without being held morally accountable.
Shalini Perumal is a creative international development professional who has worked previously in Mae Sot, Thailand at Mae Tao Clinic, consulted for Finnish Refugee Council Myanmar, and served as a Writer/Researcher at Insight Myanmar Podcast. She is currently a freelance journalist working on a novel.
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