In the annals of democratic theatre, few performances offer as much off-script intrigue as Canada’s recent federal election. Held amid a backdrop of global economic tremors and nationalist tremolos, the contest culminated in a narrow but consequential victory for Mark Carney—the suave technocrat-turned-Liberal Party leader—who now finds himself not just prime minister, but accidental protagonist in a geopolitical pas de trois with India and the US.
Carney’s ascent from spreadsheet sage to political steward is the stuff of Westminster whisperers. Dismissed until recently as an urbane interloper with the charisma of a mortgage bond, he confounded pollsters by securing 168 of 343 seats—as close to a majority as a later of mille-feuille, but sufficient for governance. His background at the helm of the Bank of England and Bank of Canada gave him a veneer of macroeconomic gravitas that proved irresistible to voters weary of populist pyrotechnics and ideological slapstick.
Canada’s 2025 vote was more than a domestic reset; it was a referendum on performative rage. The Conservatives, led by Pierre Poilievre, entered the fray with bombast, but exited in embarrassment. Poilievre’s penchant for polemic, flirtations with fringe ideologies, and a mystifying attempt to align with Indian Hindutva currents alienated the centrist masses. His campaign, once billed as an unstoppable juggernaut, became a cautionary tale of ideological indigestion. A party once poised for power found itself dining alone—at the kids’ table of Canadian politics, muttering about “freedom” while the adults passed policy.
But no political obituary is more poignant than that of Jagmeet Singh. The NDP’s telegenic but pro-Khalistani leader, long accused of serving as the diaspora’s grievance concierge, lost his own seat in Burnaby Central. His party, reduced from 25 seats to single-digits, also forfeited official party status for the first time since 1993. From power broker to political bystander, Singh’s fall is less a footnote than a full-throated repudiation of identitarian overreach.
Singh’s persistent tirades against India, including vocal advocacy for Khalistani separatism and a conspicuously theatrical outrage over the killing of Hardeep Singh Nijjar in 2023 may have won applause in niche echo chambers—but proved electorally enervating. Canadian voters signalled a preference for peace over provocation, governance over grievance. For all his symbolic resonance, Singh failed the smell test of mainstream leadership. Burnaby didn’t just reject his politics, it uninvited him from the party.
Enter the Indo-Canadian diaspora: a 1.4-million-strong mosaic of migrants, strivers and middle-class monarchs. In swing ridings across Ontario and British Columbia—Brampton, Mississauga, Surrey—their ballots tipped the scale in favour of Carney’s centrist moderation. Of the record 65 Indian-origin candidates, around 20 were elected, mostly under the Liberal banner. Notable returnees include Anita Anand, Kamal Khera, Parm Bains and Sukh Dhaliwal—names that resonate in Ottawa’s corridors and Delhi’s drawing rooms alike. But this was no monolithic bloc. The Singh’s rejection by voters of Indian origin suggests a maturing political identity. The message was subtle but unambiguous: stop using us as pawns in proxy battles. We are not your constituency of convenience. We are citizens first, sentiment second.
This evolution is not insignificant. For years, India’s political class courted the diaspora as a soft-power tool, sometimes even as a battering ram. What this election reveals is a growing reluctance within that community to be instrumentalised. The Indo-Canadian voter now wields not just nostalgia but discernment. This is a seismic shift—a community turning from romanticism to realism.
No Canadian election in recent memory has been so thoroughly haunted by the ghost of Washington. Trump casts a long silhouette over North American geopolitics. His belligerent tariff threats and unpredictable rhetoric stirred Canadian anxieties, driving voters toward Carney’s brand of cautious nationalism. The return of MAGA also made “nice” fashionable again in Ottawa—a virtue few expected to see weaponised so effectively.
This dynamic complicates the India-US-Canada triangle. India remains Trump’s ‘strategic sweetheart’—a role cultivated through arms deals, yoga diplomacy and mutual disdain for Chinese hegemony. But Ottawa under Carney may no longer serve as the pliant northern cousin in Washington’s diplomatic soap opera. While the Quad alliance finds fresh relevance amid rising Indo-Pacific tensions, Canada’s irritation with alleged Indian interference must be managed carefully—preferably without turning global strategy into dinner theatre.
For India, the election is less an endgame than a reset button. With Singh vanquished and the NDP defenestrated, the air is momentarily cleared of Indian immigrants-driven acrimony. The task now is to replace whispers with words, conjecture with commitment. A public reaffirmation of non-interference in Canadian affairs could go a long way in puncturing the narrative of meddling. The tools are already at hand. Bollywood festivals in Brampton, trade summits in Delhi, Indo-Canadian university fellowships—these are not frills, but foundations. India must out-charm the conspiracy theorists and out-diplomate the diaspora firebrands. Think less ‘Twitter clapback’, more ‘Chanakya meets Canadian courtesy’. The road to a mature Indo-Canadian relationship may be paved with immigration fast lanes and dual-degree programmes, not diaspora theatrics.
Carney is no bomb-thrower. His temperament leans toward the incremental and the institutional, not the impulsive. This makes him an ideal counterpart for Modi, who prefers high-visibility diplomacy but is increasingly aware of the need for discretion in sensitive theatres. Carney’s primary challenge will be managing Trump-era unpredictability without appearing either overly subservient or ideologically aloof. India’s challenge will be navigating Carney’s cautious centrism while jettisoning the shadowy diaspora brokers who have long acted as self-appointed ambassadors of outrage.
A hypothetical Carney-Modi handshake at the 2025 UN General Assembly could be more than symbolic. It could mark the beginning of a new diplomatic syntax—one rooted in climate cooperation, counterterrorism, cyber policy and clean tech. It would also send a message to Beijing: soft power is the new hard power, and Canada and India can flex it with velvet gloves.
Still, none of this will matter unless both nations resist the easy seductions of symbolism. Diplomacy is a muscle, not a mood. And in the months ahead, it will be tested by everything from refugee policy and AI regulation to agricultural trade wars. If Canada wants to be more than a polite spectator in Asia, and if India wants to graduate from diasporic theatrics to realpolitik maturity, both sides will have to do something rare: shut up and listen.
Carney’s victory is not a coronation, nor is it a condemnation—it is a calibration. The electorate rejected extremism without embracing complacency. His mandate is thin but meaningful. For India, this is not the time for covert cables or diaspora dramatis personae. It is the time for plainspoken diplomacy and pragmatic statecraft. A bilateral relationship once dominated by suspicion now waits to be rewritten in the ink of mutual respect.
To paraphrase Mark Twain, reports of diplomacy’s death have been greatly exaggerated. The maple leaf, the tricolour, and the stars and stripes may yet find harmony—if they stop shouting long enough to listen. After all, even in the bitter chill of northern politics, maple syrup still flows.
prabhuchawla@newindianexpress.com
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