Kautilya knew

Long before Machiavelli, the Indian strategist Kautilya articulated a blunt theory of power in the Arthashastra. Writing in the fourth century BCE, he rejected the idea that moral restraint governs state behaviour. Power, he argued, dictates norms; ethics follow advantage. Rulers, in his view, often preach moderation not because they practice it, but because they want rivals to do so.

Kautilya’s realism feels uncomfortably contemporary in today’s nuclear order. The NPT is based on a moral concession; non-nuclear states give a promise not to develop weapons, whereas nuclear states promise to disarmament in the future. However, decades later, disarmament is still mostly a mere rhetoric. The nuclear-armed nations update the arsenals, increase the delivery networks and polish the doctrines, yet they insist that the others permanently disarm, even as the United States and its allies are heavily investing in the nuclear modernisation programs and selectively accommodating non-signatories like India by making deals such as the 2008 India-US civil nuclear deal.

This selective restraint is most visible in how “responsible” and “irresponsible” nuclear behaviour is defined. States that are on the side of major powers are rewarded with exemption, waivers or silence; those who are on the opposing side receive sanctions, isolation and moral condemnation. The difference is not often one of competence per se, but rather one of political orientation. The undeclared nuclear weapons of Israel are largely not discussed in the context of global non-proliferation and the nuclear programs of Iran, despite the measures of international surveillance, have caused waves of sanctions and diplomatic pressure. Kautilya would have realised this on the spot. In his mandala theory, allies are protected, rivals constrained and moral language is deployed strategically rather than universally.

This hypocrisy is also revealed through sanctions regimes. The use of sanctions is conceptualised as an instrument of international law but is inconsistently applied and with catastrophic humanitarian effects. The economic coercion is used in place of accountability and the states that are powerful protect themselves and their allies against the same scrutiny.

What modern discourse calls a “rules-based international order,” Kautilya might have described as a gatekeeping mechanism, one that controls access to power, as opposed to removing its perils. Norms do not eliminate inequality; they control it. Restraint becomes a condition imposed downward, not a discipline practiced upward.

This criticism is not the justification of proliferation or lawlessness. Nuclear weapons proliferation poses disastrous effects, and the world needs to be regulated. However, unrequited regulation creates anger and undermines legitimacy. When rules appear designed to preserve dominance rather than ensure security, compliance becomes transactional, not moral just as recent debates over security guarantees and strategic autonomy in the Global South increasingly reveal.

Western realism usually tries to appear universal, objective and principled. However, its use implies the contrary. It has monopolised not only power but also moral authority, leaving it with little space to listen to other opinions, especially those of the Global South, which has a long history of being marginalised to be sceptical of global standards, whether it is nuclear control or imposing sanctions.

Revisiting Kautilya is not about embracing cynicism; it is about acknowledging reality. He did not deny the need for order, but he warned against the illusion that power ever restrains itself voluntarily. Stability, he saw, demanded integrity of interests and not partisan morality in the name of principle.

Empires have always spoken the language of restraint. History suggests we should listen less to what they demand of others and more to what they excuse in themselves.