Close your eyes for a moment and imagine this: Harvard Yard, spring 2025. After a brutal massacre of 26 innocent civilians by armed terrorists, students leap into action. Encampments spring up overnight. Social justice clubs organize teach-ins. Professors sign petitions. Placards demand “Justice for Kashmir,” “Stop Pakistani Terror,” and “From Pahalgam to the Hague.” The world responds in outrage. Western capitals condemn the attack. The UN convenes an emergency session. The media calls it what it is: a terror attack.
If only.
But that’s not the reality.
Because this time, the victims were Indian civilians – most of them Hindu – gunned down in cold blood by Pakistani terrorists in the scenic valley of Pahalgam, Kashmir. And suddenly, the world is quiet. No tents. No hashtags. No solidarity. No moral outrage.
The same voices that erupt when Israel defends itself against terror are silent now. The same campuses that turned into 24/7 protest zones after October 7 have nothing to say about April 22.
No vigils. No outrage. No headlines. Just silence.
On that day, Pakistani-backed terrorists opened fire on Indian tourists, killing 26 people – fathers, husbands, grandfathers, sons. A disabled woman had to crawl down a mountain to safety. A 20-year-old was grazed by a bullet while shielding his family. The killers asked victims to recite Islamic verses to prove they weren’t Hindu before executing them.
This is terrorism – pure and simple.
And yet, the West can’t seem to find its voice. When Hamas slaughtered Israelis on October 7, the world couldn’t decide whether to condemn the butchers or the butchered. Now, it can’t even muster confusion. Just silence.
India, unlike many of its critics, didn’t stay silent. It responded. Within days, the Indian military launched targeted strikes across the Line of Control, destroying nine terrorist infrastructure sites in Pakistan. These weren’t random attacks – they were precise retaliations against known Lashkar-e-Taiba and Jaish-e-Mohammed training centers.
Pakistan, predictably, denied everything. Then claimed victimhood. Then escalated. Drone attacks, airspace closures, and threats of war followed. But the world still didn’t blink. No front-page outrage. No sanctions. No Nobel Prize winners calling for restraint.
We’ve seen this script before. Because we, as Israelis, live it every day.
India is Israel in this story. A democracy fighting for its citizens’ lives, accused of “escalating” simply by refusing to die quietly. And Pakistan, like Hamas, hides behind plausible deniability while exporting terror with impunity.
But there’s a difference this time. Israel is not alone.
In cities across Europe, particularly in London, Indian protesters rallied not just for justice – but in solidarity with Israel. At one demonstration, Indian flags waved beside Israeli ones. The message was loud and clear: same struggle, same enemies, same hypocrisy. One Indian demonstrator was even quoted as saying, “You have Palestine. We have Pakistan.”
This bond is no accident. For years, India and Israel have shared more than just technology and trade. We share intelligence. We share weapons development. We share democratic values. And increasingly, we share the same battlefield: the war on radical Islamist terror.
During Israel’s most recent war, India stood with us – quietly but firmly. Now it’s our turn.
Supporting India’s right to defend itself
We must be vocal in supporting India’s right to defend itself. We must push for international condemnation of Pakistan’s terror infrastructure. We must expose the media’s double standard. And we must remind our own communities that India is a true friend of Israel, not just in times of peace, but especially in times of bloodshed.
So what can we do? We can publicly support India’s right to self-defense, just as we expect support when Israel is attacked. We can call out the hypocrisy: why are there protests when Israel retaliates, but none when Pakistan sponsors terrorism? We can strengthen military and intelligence cooperation between Israel and India – overtly or discreetly. Our security depends on partnerships with those who face the same threats. And we must challenge the silence on social media, in op-eds, and in public forums. We must make noise. We must tell the stories of the 26 Indian victims, just as we told the stories of those murdered on October 7.
India is one of Israel’s most important defense partners. In recent years, it has become the largest purchaser of Israeli arms, including surveillance systems, drones, radar, and missile defense technology. The two countries have conducted joint military exercises, exchanged tactical knowledge in counterterrorism, and opened channels for cyber and homeland security cooperation. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s 2017 visit to Israel – the first ever by an Indian prime minister – was not only symbolic but strategic, sealing years of quiet collaboration with public warmth.
India’s support for Israel has been consistent and unambiguous, particularly when others waver. After October 7, while many countries condemned Israel’s response in Gaza, India defended Israel’s right to protect its people. It abstained from several anti-Israel votes at the United Nations and stood firm against pressure to isolate us diplomatically. Israeli leaders have noted this with appreciation, and Indian media has, for the most part, offered coverage more balanced and fact-based than many Western outlets. The friendship is rooted not just in politics, but in shared values – and a shared threat.
There are more than a billion Hindus in the world, many of whom see Israel as an ally in the fight against extremism. We should embrace that alliance – and amplify it.Because when India defends itself, Israel doesn’t just gain an ally. It gains a mirror.
And the reflection, though painful, is unmistakable.
So perhaps the next time a massacre like this happens, students at Harvard will pitch their tents. Just don’t expect it when the victims are Indian, the terrorists are Pakistani, and the narrative is inconvenient. Selective outrage is easy. Moral consistency is harder.