The fuel of wealth is power. For centuries, empires justified conquest in the name of civilisation. In the 20th century, war became a business—refined, repackaged, and sold by the industrial elite in boardrooms far removed from trenches and bomb sites. The modern deep state is the inheritor of empires; but is more efficient, more cynical. Its battlefield is the global economy; its weapon is legislation.
Born in the Cold War, matured during the War on Terror, it now thrives in a digital age where death is outsourced and war is automated. Drone by drone, missile by missile, budget by bloated budget, it sustains itself—not on peace, but on the permanent preparation for war. Today, it dominates the algorithmic age where war is a stock market event. Its shadowy titans brand conflict in sleek presentations, launched with hash tags, and measured in percentage gains. Drones hum over villages while markets hum with profit.
India stands at a historic crossroads—its economy ascendant, its global clout undeniable, its society eager for peace and prosperity. Yet, even now, the massacre of innocent tourists at Pahalgam by Pakistani terrorists and Operation Sindoor proved the spectre of war is never ending. India—rising, proud, and determined to defend itself—finds itself ensnared in this machinery. For India, war has never been an option. It has always been thrust upon her by a failed neighbour.
In 2025, New Delhi allocated a staggering $75 billion to defence—13.45 percent of its total budget. A necessary shield, some argue, at a time when terrorism strikes from the shadows, and enemies like Lashkar-e-Toiba still sow fear, as they did with the brutal killing of 26 civilians in Pahalgam on April 22. In retaliation, India launched Operation Sindoor, deploying drones and missiles in a precise counter-offensive against terror camps across the border.
The markets responded instantly: the Nifty Defence Index rose by 4.32 percent on May 13, and drone maker IdeaForge’s stock surged 20 percent. The blood of the fallen had barely dried before investor portfolios began to glow. But beneath these numbers lies a more troubling truth: this war economy bleeds the very body it claims to protect. From 2020 to 2025, India spent $350 billion on defence, including $15 billion on unmanned aerial systems.
This was followed by a ballooning fiscal deficit of 5.8 percent of GDP in 2024. Inflation climbed to 6.2 percent in 2025, choking the lives of over 400 million middle-class Indians. Border trade collapsed—Kashmir alone lost $1.2 billion annually as apple orchards and textile looms fell silent. Tourism, once the pulse of Jammu and Kashmir, has suffered a 35 percent collapse since 2020, wiping out 200,000 jobs. In towns like Samba, 15,000 businesses have shuttered since 2022 due to cross-border tensions.
Social wounds deepen with every drone strike and border skirmish. The 1.2 million people of Kashmir live with a constant undercurrent of fear. Since 2020, over 1,200 lives have been lost to terrorism in Jammu and Kashmir alone, and more than 3,400 have been injured. The trauma is cumulative. A 2024 study found 30 percent of Kashmiris suffer from post-traumatic stress, with schools closing during clashes, depriving 150,000 children of education. Communal tensions have surged—320 incidents in 2024, a 25 percent rise. And drone warfare has driven over 10,000 villagers from border areas since 2022, transforming once-thriving communities into ghost towns.
India is not alone in this grim pattern. Pakistan is already on the verge of bankruptcy and disintegration. The Ukraine-Russia war, too, has become a case study in profit-driven escalation by the deep state. Since 2022, US arms manufacturers have grown fat on conflict: Lockheed Martin’s HIMARS sales to Ukraine helped boost profits by 14 percent in 2024, while Raytheon’s missile contracts surged by 20 percent. Civilians die—1,200 in Ukraine in 2024 alone—yet markets celebrate. Why? Because the companies hire influential former civil servants or politicians.
Nearly 700 former high-ranking government officials in the US now work for defence contractors, including former generals and admirals, revealed a report released by the office of Senator Elizabeth Warren in April. According to the report, Boeing, Raytheon and General Electric hired 85, 64, and 60 former government officials, respectively, as high-ranking executives or lobbyists.
It’s certain some of them were involved in the West Asian deals. Saudi Arabia’s $142-billion arms deal with the US during President Donald trump’s visit is part of a wider $600-billion push that keeps defence stocks soaring even as West Asia burns. And now, India is being coaxed to join this cycle more deeply—pushed to purchase the US THAAD missile defence system, expand drone arsenals, and further militarise its border regions. But this path demands a reckoning: every rupee spent on war is a rupee not spent on schools, hospitals or rural development. Every drone exported is a gamble that someone, somewhere, will need to bleed. It feeds the bloodthirstiness of the deep state actors.
To break the chain, India must act with courage. It must silence the Terroristan that flourishes across the border now to ensure a Viksit Bharat in future. Later, it can slash the bloated defence budget and re-route those funds toward education, health, climate resilience and advanced intelligence networks. Peace does not mean passivity. It means investing in the future, not in the flames of perpetual retaliation. The deep state thrives on endless war. But a confident India does not need to feed it.
The question is not whether India can win battles. It already has. The question is whether India can win peace—without selling her soul to those who profit from her pain. Behind the flags and speeches, beneath the uniforms and parades, lies a machine without a face, a system without a conscience—the deep state. Not the fantasy of conspiracy theorists, but a very real confluence of interests: the defence industry, intelligence agencies, political insiders, lobbyists, and private contractors.
Their goal is not national security. It is continuity. Stability for themselves; profits for their shareholders; and influence, at any cost. Lockheed Martin, Raytheon, Northrop Grumman, BAE Systems are not just corporations. They are policy-shapers, campaign donors, boardroom strategists in the war economy. In 2023, American defence companies spent over $130 million lobbying the US Congress. Why? Because every fighter jet, every missile system, every overseas deployment means revenue. In 2024 alone, Lockheed Martin earned $67.6 billion—most of it from government contracts. War is their business model.
The deep state’s hidden persuaders don’t care who wins—only that no one stops fighting. In West Asia, it armed Saudi Arabia and Israel. In Asia, it eyes Taiwan and the Indo-Pacific with anticipation. In India, it sees the perfect mix: a powerful democracy facing a hostile neighbour, a growing budget, and a taste for strategic autonomy. If any nation truly wants sovereignty, it must unshackle itself from the war economy. That requires not just courage, but clarity to see that those selling the weapons are rarely invested in the outcome.
Because for them, war is never a failure. It’s the business plan.
PRABHU CHAWLA
prabhuchawla@newindianexpress.com
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