"Water and blood cannot flow together,” Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi said in his address to the nation following India’s suspension of the Indus Water Treaty and the escalating border tensions with Pakistan.
Such declarations often mask the deeper function of war: its toll on innocent lives and its utility in advancing authoritarian agendas. War is, in other words, a political vector, pulling our political systems toward the far-right and away from the most basic principles of democracy and decency.
In the aftermath of 9/11, the U.S.-led War on Terror displaced over 38 million people and caused more than 4.5 million deaths across Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, Pakistan, Somalia, Syria, and Yemen.
Today, Israel starves children in Gaza while bombing civilian vessels in international waters delivering humanitarian aid. Meanwhile, just a week ago, as India and Pakistan engaged in cross-border firings, over 50 civilians lost their lives.
In times of conflict, far-right rhetoric thrives on fear and uncertainty, weaponizing concerns to advance ideologies steeped in xenophobia and exclusion. It fuels patriotic fervor by pushing an “us vs. them” narrative that frames national identity in rigid, ethnonationalist terms. This pattern is evident in both Israel and India, where Palestinians and Kashmiris are routinely surveilled, dehumanized, and subjected to systemic violence with near-total impunity. In India, a tragic attack on tourists in Pahalgam, Kashmir, was used to renew anti-Muslim sentiment nationwide. In Israel, scenes of public celebration of Palestinians’ death and displacement reveal a chilling normalization of genocide.
At the core of this constructed identity lies a dangerous push for ethnic, religious, and cultural purity. This, in turn, allows far-right leaders to position themselves as protectors of national integrity and portray immigrants, refugees, and ethnic and religious minorities as threats. For instance, days after the escalating tensions with Pakistan, instead of holding the ruling government accountable for the security lapse that caused the terror attack in Kashmir, India quietly deported Rohingya refugees only to abandon them on boats off the coast of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. *Scroll.in* reviewed phone recordings of Rohingya refugees describing their forced displacement to Myanmar where a refugee says officials beat them and falsely accused them of involvement in the Pahalgam attack — claims unsupported by any public evidence.
This climate of warmongering, coupled with fear, enables long-term democratic backsliding. Freedoms of speech, protest, and the press are curtailed under the guise of national security, while opposition voices are silenced or discredited. In India, the government has used sedition and anti-terror laws — like the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA) — to detain activists, journalists, and students without trial, particularly those critical of its policies in Kashmir or its handling of communal violence. News outlets critical of the government, such as *The Wire*, were suspended as they reported on the escalating tensions with Pakistan and debunked misinformation. And since October 7, Israel has killed more than 200 journalists and media workers.
War, in this context, elevates the far-right: It heightens fear and manufactures enemies. It is little surprise that far-right figures have fomented conflict themselves, whether in classic cases like Operation Himmler or more recent examples like Jair Bolsonaro’s coup attempt on the Three Powers Plaza in Brasilia. These are the conditions that far-right movements exploit to feign victimhood, gain influence, and marginalise opposition.
In such times, careful, detailed, and determined investigation of the far-right’s activities is not merely an educational exercise. It is a critical strategy to resist the machinations of the far-right and preserve the democratic rights they would destroy. Without vigilance, the cost of war will not only be measured in buildings burned or lives lost, but in democracies dismantled.
