When Parliament speaks Armies Listen

Ashok Ogra
“Until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.”
This African proverb reminds us that the story of war is often told by those who claim victory. And those in power often shape the narrative to make themselves look brave and wise-whether or not that was really the case.
However, let me add a caveat: democracies-even flawed like India-allow public debate, criticism, and questions. They leave space for the truth to emerge. In contrast, authoritarian regimes or weak democracies-like Pakistan-often allow only one version of the story: the one approved by the army or the state.
A recent example is the heated but informed debate in India’s Parliament on Operation Sindoor. MPs raised tough questions. Some praised the military, while others asked about preparedness and planning. This is how a democracy works. It allows for open reflection, even in times of conflict. It would have added weight and decorum had the Prime Minister also attended the debate in Rajya Sabha on Wednesday.
What was avoidable, however, was the obsessive invocation of Nehru-nearly 15 times. Nehru continues to live rent-free in their political imagination. It seems the party still cannot define itself without contrasting with him – six decades after his death. Perhaps it’s time to rescue the BJP from the Nehruism it once vowed to reject.
Similarly, equally important is rescue Nehru from the Nehruvites who’ve embalmed him in sentiment- reducing his complex legacy to a static, unquestioned icon.
Regardless, the debate in Parliament has reaffirmed faith in the very democratic institutions that Nehru and other stalwarts of India helped lay the foundations for: question power, absorb dissent, and evolve with time.
In Pakistan, things are different. The army and the state work closely to shape what people think, and what the media is to report.
India is not perfect. During Operation Sindoor, exaggerated claims were made on few TV networks and social media-such as Lahore being bombed or Karachi port being destroyed. But most of India’s free press and Parliament allow such claims to be challenged and corrected. That’s what separates a democracy from a controlled system.
To understand this better, let’s look at how India and Pakistan handled the wars/conflicts of 1948, 1965, 1971, and 1999.
The 1947-48 war over Kashmir was presented in Pakistan as a holy mission led by tribal fighters. In reality, the army was deeply involved. But Pakistan never admitted that. Because of this, there was no national debate on why the plan failed or what its long-term effects might be.
In India, though it was a young country without a Constitution, leaders like Syama Prasad Mookerjee questioned Prime Minister Nehru’s decision to go to the UN instead of completing a military operation to recover all of Kashmir. Even some Congress leaders had doubts.
By 1965, Pakistan was under military rule by General Ayub Khan. Parliament was weak, and the press had no freedom. The war was sold to the people as a great victory. One leading newspaper even printed a cartoon showing Pakistani tanks rolling towards Delhi.
The military used music and culture to boost patriotism. Noor Jehan sang songs in uniform, like Aye watan ke sajeelay jawano (“O brave soldiers of the nation.”)
Dissent was shut down. Fatima Jinnah, who ran against Ayub Khan in the same year, was attacked in the media. Anyone who questioned the army was seen as disloyal.
Later, respected writers like Husain Haqqani and Khaled Ahmed described this period as one of national self-deception. After the Tashkent Agreement exposed that Pakistan had not won the war, public confidence in the army took a hit. The otherwise popular Field Marshal Ayub Khan faced huge public protests, paving the way for Gen Yahya Khan to take over the government in 1969.
In India, the 1965 war was handled more openly. Parliament was in session when the hostilities broke out. Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri briefed MPs regularly. Leaders like Atal Bihari Vajpayee supported the government but still asked hard questions. Noted journalist Kuldip Nayar was critical of the Tashkent agreement: “Many in India believed Shastri gave away too much. Indian forces had the upper hand and had captured strategic territory in Pakistan. Why return it without a firm commitment on Kashmir?”
The 1971 war was another turning point. General Yahya Khan refused to accept the results of the 1970 elections, which gave a clear win to Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. This led to violence and repression in East Pakistan, sparking a civil war and inviting Indian intervention.
Pakistani citizens were told they were winning. The fall of Dhaka was not reported live on TV or radio. Yahya Khan, as revealed by journalists like Stanley Wolpert and Shuja Nawaz, was busy partying, often drunk, and surrounded by glamorous women-even as his country lost half its territory.
Meanwhile, the truth came out through the BBC, Voice of America, and returning soldiers. The lies could not hold forever. Gen Yahya had to resign and was kept under house detention.
India’s response showed the strength of its democracy. Parliament was in session. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi gave multiple statements justifying military action. Opposition leaders like Piloo Mody supported her. Vajpayee called her “Durga,” symbolizing rare national unity.
But celebration didn’t stop critical thinking. Within months, Parliament debated the Shimla Agreement. Critics asked: why did India return 79,676 military personnel and 13,324 semi-military personnel without securing gains in Kashmir?
The 1999 Kargil conflict was no different. General Pervez Musharraf, then army chief, launched the operation without informing Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif. Once things went badly, and pressure came from the US, the army removed Nawaz Sharif in a coup.
Pakistan’s media again praised the army. But few journalists like Najam Sethi and Arif Nizami who questioned the story were harassed and threatened. India handled Kargil more transparently. Parliament stayed active. Prime Minister Vajpayee took questions from Sonia Gandhi and others. Reporters like Barkha Dutt and Vishnu Som gave live coverage from the war zone.
Even the 1962 war with China-a military disaster for India-was not hidden. Leaders like Acharya Kripalani and several Congress MPs criticized Nehru’s China policy. The press examined the failures in detail. The then Defense Minister, Krishna Menon, was made to resign.
This difference in how each country deals with war-through open debate versus closed propaganda-reveals the deeper gap between democracy (India) and dictatorship (Pakistan).
It is also true that governments sometimes hide behind “national interest” to avoid questions. After the Balakot airstrikes in 2019, India didn’t share proof of the damage publicly. But now, NSA Ajit Doval is asking Pakistan to share proof of its claims from Operation Sindhoor.
Meanwhile, India hasn’t fully admitted some of its own losses-though some retired generals and both Indian and foreign media have reported or at least hinted at it.
Being open about both gains and losses would not weaken India’s position; on the contrary, it would strengthen it. A nation that honestly admits its losses is far more believable when it asserts its successes-such as the destruction of terror camps or Pakistani air bases. Truth, when embraced confidently, lends greater weight to strategic claims.
K. Subrahmanyam, one of India’s best defense thinkers, said: “Secrecy is important in operations, but decision-making must remain accountable to Parliament. You can’t hide mistakes or political motives behind defense secrecy.”
This is not to deny that some level of secrecy is needed for the safety of soldiers, for intelligence work, and to protect long-term strategies. But that secrecy should never be used to avoid responsibility or to cover up bad decisions.
The real challenge is to find the right balance between the public’s ‘RIGHT TO KNOW’ and the state’s ‘NEED TO PROTECT’. One solution is to share sensitive information not in public debates, but in closed meetings with trusted parliamentary committees. That way, oversight is maintained without putting national security at risk.
As George Kennan, the famous US diplomat, wisely said: “A society that values secrecy more than openness will eventually lose both security and freedom.” Meanwhile, the debate on Operation Sindoor stands as a timely reminder that democratic engagement in India is anything but dormant. Admittedly, the discussion could have been more substantive, better anchored in facts, and less theatrical. Yet, for all its imperfections-call it phifty-phifty if you will-Indian democracy continues to assert its core strength: holding power to account.