La Controffensiva

When Prime Minister Narendra Modi referenced JFK’s Forgotten Crisis: Tibet, the CIA and the Sino-Indian War in Parliament, it wasn’t just a casual book recommendation—it was a political dart aimed squarely at Jawaharlal Nehru’s foreign policy. 

The way he spoke about the “game” being played in the name of diplomacy made it clear: Modi was drawing a sharp contrast between his own strategic vision and what he sees as Nehru’s missteps. Intrigued, I decided to dig into the book myself. What I found was fascinating.

The book, written by former CIA official Bruce Riedel, provides a gripping account of Nehru’s dealings with the Kennedy administration during the 1962 Sino-Indian War. While Nehru was scrambling for U.S. military aid to counter China’s aggression, the book also reveals an unexpected layer, his apparent fascination with the Kennedy family, particularly John F. Kennedy’s younger sister, Pat Kennedy. 

The narrative paints a picture of Nehru as deeply enamoured, showing a keen interest in the “attractive 27-year-old” during his visit to the U.S. in 1961. It was an angle I had never quite considered before.

And then, there was Jacqueline Kennedy’s visit to India in 1962. Nehru insisted she stay in a guest suite at his residence, not just any guest suite, but the same one frequently occupied by Edwina Mountbatten. The symbolism was unmistakable. The long-rumoured closeness between Nehru and Edwina has often been dismissed as irrelevant to governance, but when diplomacy and personal relationships intertwine, can they really be separated so easily?

Modi’s reference to this book, then, wasn’t just about history. It was a strategic reminder of what he sees as Nehru’s diplomatic entanglements. Unlike his predecessor, Modi projects himself as a leader who prioritises India’s national interests above sentimental bonds. The contrast is striking, where Nehru’s diplomacy appeared personality-driven, Modi champions a pragmatic, no-nonsense approach.

Rahul Gandhi’s barbs about Modi’s alleged eagerness to secure an invitation to Trump’s inauguration seemed like standard political jabs. But Modi’s response, pointing towards Nehru’s diplomatic dependencies, was a masterclass in political counterpunching. The message was clear: If any Indian leader had been swayed by personal relationships in diplomacy, it was Nehru, not Modi.

And it doesn’t stop there. The resurfacing of historical anecdotes about Nehru coincides with the BJP’s ongoing reassessment of his legacy. The controversy over Nehru’s letters to Edwina Mountbatten, with claims that Sonia Gandhi removed 51 cartons of correspondence in 2008, adds another layer to this unfolding narrative. If those claims hold water, it raises troubling questions about selective historical preservation.

Reading these revelations made me rethink India’s diplomatic evolution. The 1962 war remains a national wound, a stark reminder of Nehru’s miscalculations. But Modi’s remarks add a new dimension: was Nehru’s foreign policy driven as much by personal inclinations as by geopolitical strategy?

In today’s world, India moves with greater confidence. Whether engaging with China, the U.S., or other global powers, Modi’s foreign policy is grounded in realpolitik rather than personal charm. The shift from Nehru’s idealism to Modi’s calculated pragmatism signals a transformation in India’s global standing.

Was Modi’s reference to JFK’s Forgotten Crisis just an intellectual detour, or was it a deliberate attempt to reshape Nehru’s legacy? As someone who follows both history and politics closely, I see it as the latter. In an era where political battles are fought as much in the archives as on the campaign trail, history is not just being remembered, it’s being rewritten.