Beyond silence: The diaspora’s cultural accountability

In recent weeks, two striking essays — “Why Indian-Americans Are Silent — And Its Costs” by Shashi Tharoor and another opinion “Shashi Tharoor Misunderstands the Diaspora — We Are Not Proxies for India” — have reignited debate over the moral and political responsibilities of the Indian diaspora, particularly in the United States.

Tharoor’s central argument is this: when the diaspora refrains from defending India on crucial policy fronts (trade, visas, strategic sanctions), it forfeits a moral voice and allows negative caricatures to gain ground.

The counter-claim — echoed by community leaders such as Suhag Shukla — is that expecting Indian-Americans to act as de facto diplomatic agents or political spokespersons for India misunderstands the nature of diasporic life. As citizens of their adopted lands, they must negotiate dual loyalties, legal constraints, and personal risk.

Both perspectives merit thoughtful consideration. However, there is one dimension often neglected in this debate: cultural connection — what the diaspora has done, or not done, to pass on the culture, build, and sustain the community’s Indian-American identity in the long tradition of hyphenated identities among immigrants. Political silence is evident; cultural silence is a matter of greater concern.

The task of constructing and reimagining a hyphenated identity has been met with mixed community efforts. There are some successes and challenges. The key to building political capital is building cultural capital. This requires a connection to the cultural roots of a tree that crosses the oceans for its vitality, yet rises like a magnificent tree in the new world.

The Unasked Questions
Let us concede: the Indian diaspora should not be judged as mouthpieces for the Indian state. But if we do not expect them to speak politically, then what can we ask of them? At a minimum, we might expect efforts to sustain cultural continuity. And yet, in many diaspora homes, the following grim questions arise:

Have we passed on Indian languages?

Beyond festival greetings and stock phrases, do our children ever converse in Hindi, Tamil, Gujarati, Bengali, or other Indian tongues?

Or have these languages become relics, reserved for classroom electives or heritage-language classes detached from living usage?

Are our youth acquainted with Indian classical cinema’s canon?

Do V. Shantaram, Bimal Roy, and Ritwik Ghatak mean more to an NRI household than they do in a university’s “World Cinema” syllabus? Or has our streaming age consigned them to archives, while we binge the latest global hits?

Have we used our vacations to explore India in depth?

Do summer and winter breaks become opportunities to walk temple corridors, listen to village storytellers, visit overlooked heritage sites, introduce children to local histories — or are they reduced to beach holidays and shopping sprees in the usual tourist circuits?

Do we engage with classical arts, philosophy, and traditions?

Carnatic or Hindustani music, Bharatanatyam, Kathak, the ragamala paintings, oral histories — do they live in our homes, or remain curiosities we mention once a year?
Why Cultural Silence Matters
One may object that cultural connection is optional, not obligatory. But consider what is lost when language, memory, art, and heritage recede:

Erosion of depth in identity: Cultural practices give a body and texture to diasporic identity. They do not guarantee political alignment, but they ground individuals in ideas, histories, and aesthetics — making identity less vulnerable to commodification or caricature.

Loss of soft legitimacy: When diaspora voices speak on India-related issues, their resonance is not purely rhetorical. Their voice carries moral and cultural weight only if a lived connection backs it; otherwise, it rings hollow or opportunistic.

Future generations’ drift: Each generation further removed from India is more exposed to assimilation. Without intentional transmission, “Indian-ness” reduces to cuisine or festivals alone, devoid of context. Stressing the drift of future generations can evoke a sense of concern about cultural preservation.

Each generation further removed from India is more exposed to assimilation. Without intentional transmission, “Indian-ness” reduces to cuisine or festivals alone, devoid of context.

Diminished ability to critique: Cultural distance blunts the capacity for genuine critique. One may defend India unquestioningly or oppose it superficially — but without deep understanding, neither stance is mature.

A Balanced Expectation
I neither demand that every NRI become a cultural purist nor ask them to act as diplomats. But a balanced expectation is fair:

• To attempt to learn the basics of one or more Indian languages (even conversationally).
• To introduce children (in age-appropriate form) to classic Indian literature, film, music, and art.
• To visit less-known heritage sites during travel, not just palaces or postcard monuments.
• To engage with local cultural organizations — not as performative gestures, but sustained participation. This could include joining local Indian cultural centers, participating in community events, or supporting local artists and performers.

If the diaspora had done more of this, even the political silence Tharoor laments would carry less weight: for then criticism could come not from a void of cultural disconnect but from a place of engaged affinity.

Final Thoughts
Tharoor urges the diaspora to reclaim moral voice through political activism; others warn him against instrumentalising them as surrogates. Both stances miss a more fundamental point: voice grounded in understanding is more credible than any lobbying campaign. The diaspora’s first, unavoidable task is cultural — to live and feel India even in distant lands. Only then can their political silence or speech claim legitimacy.

If we invest in culture — not as nostalgia, but as living architecture — we may find that the voice, when it does emerge, is more resonant than ever.

Author: Prof. Pankaj Jain, Faculty of Philosophy and Religious Studies, FLAME University.