India charts a new path as the old order falls

At Munich 2026, uncommon candour emerged from leaders who once swore allegiance to the “rules-based international order.” German Chancellor Friedrich Merz declared forthright that the old order “no longer exists in that form”—not mere rhetoric but crystallization of collective consciousness: the epoch when West claimed moral ascendancy and automatic dominion over global norms has drawn to close. For India, observing from its vantage point, this was no hour of apprehension but a moment of serene vindication.

For decades, Indian diplomacy endured lecturing for declining Western positions—on Iraq, Libya, sanctions, climate policy, and Russia. Each time India abstained at UN or asserted sovereign energy choices, arose the familiar chorus: India must “choose sides” to be taken seriously. Munich suggested this pressure to be receding; when the German Chancellor proclaims the old order vanished, European leaders concede values galloped beyond capabilities, India’s insistence on own calculations appears less obstinacy and more prescience.

The Munich Security Report 2026 characterized our moment as “wrecking-ball politics” within an order simultaneously “broken, bruised, or bolstered.” The West no longer perceives itself as steward of universal system but endeavours to mitigate damage: defend Ukraine without economic collapse, compete with China without conflict, counter Russia and Iran without overextension. This precipitated a new approach—forging smaller coalitions and “mini-orders” focused on energy security, digital infrastructure, or support for Kyiv, rather than pursuing grand frameworks.

This paradigm resonates deeply with India; we’ve always favoured flexible coalitions over rigid blocs. In Quad, BRICS, SCO, G20—participating across multiple forums Western commentators once called fence-sitting. Munich revealed a quiet transformation: Europe itself is being compelled towards similar configurations. If America proves unpredictable, NATO confronts resource constraints, energy and technology become instruments of statecraft, then comfortable certainties dissolved; Europeans now blend partners according to circumstance.

It was against this backdrop that External Affairs Minister S. Jaishankar’s interventions in Munich distinguished themselves. He arrived not as a supplicant petitioning entry into a Western club but rather as an emissary of a vast, self-assured nation possessing its own interpretation of global trajectories. Throughout multiple sessions and media exchanges, he depicted a world “steadily advancing towards greater multipolarity,” with “many more centres of decision-making” emerging simultaneously. At the same time, he displayed sufficient candour to acknowledge that “there are no clear answers yet” regarding how profound these transformations might ultimately extend. This synthesis of clarity about directional purpose and humility concerning operational details endowed India with an uncommonly resonant voice in a gathering replete with anxious Western policymakers.

Perhaps the most significant phrase he employed was “nimble and dynamic foreign policy.” For Indian readers accustomed to hearing “strategic autonomy” for years, this might appear a modest linguistic refinement. In reality, it signals a deeper philosophical evolution. Strategic autonomy often connoted a measured detachment—an endeavour to maintain equidistance from all major powers. A “nimble and dynamic” approach acknowledges that India will periodically move closer to one constellation of partners, at other times towards another, contingent upon the particular issue at hand, without requiring justification or incurring guilt. As Jaishankar himself articulated on one occasion, we no longer inhabit 2022 or 2023; numerous nations, including India, are “conducting their calculations and recalculations.”

These computations are no abstract constructs; they intimately touch daily Indian existence through energy pricing, employment prospects, and security considerations. Among Munich’s incisive moments emerged questions about India’s Russian petroleum acquisition—Jaishankar responded characteristically crisp: oil corporations evaluate “availability, costs, risks” and “make determinations serving optimal interests.” By reiterating this principle at the Western-dominated forum, he transmitted dual messages simultaneously—to domestic audiences, reinforcing energy policy independence from Washington/Brussels; to international counterparts, emphasizing India’s refusal to join sanctions hindering development.

Concurrently, Jaishankar leveraged the Munich sojourn to strengthen bonds with Western partners. On the conference’s peripheries, he engaged G7 foreign ministers spotlighting India’s role in maintaining open sea lanes, securing ports, and safeguarding undersea cable networks facilitating global internet traffic. Though lacking in glamour, these issues prove vital for international commerce and digital existence. By articulating the vernacular of practical cooperation—maritime patrols, connectivity corridors, resilient infrastructure—India positions itself as a solutions architect rather than as a mere observer.

The India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor exemplifies this approach beautifully; Jaishankar portrayed IMEC as an initiative for “connectivity, logistics and trade” interlinking Indian harbours with the Gulf region, extending thence to Europe. For exporters, it promises shorter routes, reduced costs, dependable supply chains; for Europeans, an alternative to China’s Belt and Road Initiative; for West Asian partners, economic diversification and fresh investment opportunities. In fractured world orders, such functional projects emerge as foundational elements of a new decentralized architecture.

Munich revealed Europe’s transforming view of India; German Foreign Minister Wadephul acknowledged evaluating nations like India primarily through “BRICS lens” constituted error. He emphasized Germany and Europe share “much in common with countries such as India and Brazil”—should concentrate on mutual interests, even while maintaining differences with Russia and China. Though resembling diplomatic boilerplate, its significance cannot be overstated: influential European capitals now mentally disentangle India from BRICS characterization as a monolithic anti-Western bloc.

This cognitive transition gains momentum from India’s economic achievements; the India-EU Free Trade Agreement eliminates tariffs on 90% of traded goods. Combined with India’s expanding manufacturing/services role and emphasis on trustworthy supply chains, this provides European enterprises genuine stakes in India’s stability. As Europe debates “digital sovereignty” and seeks diminished reliance on American tech giants and Chinese hardware, India’s digital infrastructure emerges as a natural ally.

Munich further demonstrated India’s role in shaping global governance rather than merely responding to it; Jaishankar advocated UN Security Council reform with simple elegance: institutions created after the Second World War cannot credibly govern the 21st century while excluding the principal stakeholders from decision-making.

All these developments prompt an obvious inquiry: what do they signify for ordinary Indians? It is tempting to regard Munich as a distant deliberative forum. Nevertheless, the transformations on display there bear practical consequences. If Europe genuinely accepts that the old order has concluded and commences increased investment in its own defence capabilities, Indian defence enterprises may discover fresh prospects for co-producing naval vessels, aircraft, and electronic systems. Should the West increasingly depend on trusted partners for digital infrastructure development, Indian IT and telecommunications entities can secure larger portions of high-value projects. As the Global South gains greater influence on agenda-setting concerning climate, health, and debt restructuring, India’s positions on development financing and technology transfer will carry enhanced weight.

There exists also a more subtle, yet psychologically significant, impact. For years, Indian foreign policy has countered particular impatience within Western capitals—a conviction that India was “nearly there” but not quite prepared to assume responsible power status due to its reluctance to conform on every major issue. Munich 2026 reverses this narrative construct. When Western leaders themselves acknowledge global rules remain in flux, when great powers admit they are “conducting their recalculations,” they create greater space for India’s distinctive diplomatic approach.

Naturally, a more complex multipolar world does not automatically guarantee enhanced security or equity. Competition among multiple centres of power can equally generate confusion and conflict as it can foster balance and stability. The challenge confronting India will be ensuring its celebrated “nimbleness” does not devolve into shortterm opportunism. New Delhi must demonstrate it can leverage its manoeuvring capacity to deliver genuine public goods: secure sea lanes for global commerce, more resilient supply chains for essential commodities, fairer digital regulations for users and enterprises, and more representative institutions that do not render entire continents voiceless.

Munich’s message rang with unambiguous clarity: the era of a self-appointed “normative West” has concluded. What follows will be negotiated, contested, and frequently turbulent. Within such a world order, India is no longer merely an ascending power endeavouring to join another’s club. It stands as a nation capable of helping determine what new configurations emerge, who occupies places at decision-making tables, and which rules those entities collectively embrace.

• Brijesh Singh is a senior IPS officer and an author (@ brijeshbsingh on X). His latest book on ancient India, “The Cloud Chariot” (Penguin) is out on stands. Views are personal.