There comes a time when diplomacy turns into delusion— and Canada’s latest move crosses that line with disturbing clarity. When Prime Minister Mark Carney extended an official G7 invitation to India’s Narendra Modi, he wasn’t just engaging a global power— he was extending a hand to a man under the cloud of credible international accusations of orchestrating extrajudicial killings on Canadian soil. It is not simply controversial— it is a thunderous blow to Canada’s own commitment to sovereignty, justice, and democratic values.
This invitation, delivered barely a year after the murder of Canadian citizen and Sikh activist Hardeep Singh Nijjar— an act the previous Canadian government linked directly to Indian agents— reads less like realpolitik and more like a repudiation of principles. The West has long touted itself as a guardian of liberal ideals. But when one of its leading democracies turns its back on those very ideals for the sake of trade, influence, or quiet convenience, it is not just a national embarrassment— it becomes a global warning.
The timing could not be more grotesque. Barely a year has passed since Canada’s former Prime Minister Justin Trudeau made an explosive public accusation that “agents of the Indian government” were involved in the extrajudicial assassination of Hardeep Singh Nijjar, a Canadian citizen and Sikh activist, gunned down outside a gurdwara in Surrey, British Columbia, in June 2023. This wasn’t idle speculation; it triggered a diplomatic firestorm. In response, Canada expelled an Indian diplomat while India retaliated by suspending visas for Canadians and ordering Canadian diplomats to leave Indian soil.
Further developments have only reinforced those grave concerns. In May 2024, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police charged four Indian nationals in connection with Nijjar’s assassination and publicly confirmed that the plot was orchestrated by Indian intelligence operatives. These weren’t lone wolves or ideological extremists— these were men allegedly executing a transnational operation with state sponsorship. This isn’t paranoia; it is prosecution, evidence-based and judicially sanctioned. Yet, Prime Minister Mark Carney, Trudeau’s successor, has not just ignored this bitter truth— he has polished it and laid out the red carpet for the very head of the government believed to be behind such operations.
Carney, a former central banker turned political debutant, defends his decision with the usual platitudes: India is the world’s fifth-largest economy; its cooperation is essential on climate action, digital regulation, rare earth minerals, and fentanyl interdiction. But while these arguments may make sense in the sterile logic of spreadsheets and summits, they collapse entirely when measured against the values Canada claims to uphold— human rights, sovereignty, the rule of law.
By inviting Modi, Canada is not merely attempting to “normalize” diplomatic relations— it is legitimizing state-sponsored terror. It signals to every authoritarian regime watching that Western democracies will overlook even assassinations on their own soil, provided the accused brings economic weight to the table. What precedent does this set for Canada’s sovereignty? What message does it send to diaspora communities who look to Canada for protection and justice? For them, this invitation is not diplomacy— it is betrayal.
The outrage is far from limited to Sikh advocacy groups. The World Sikh Organization of Canada has decried the move as “shameful and irresponsible,” asking pointedly whether Ottawa would have extended a similar invitation to another leader under investigation for ordering a murder on Canadian soil. Sikhs for Justice, a group banned in India for its separatist stance, announced global protests at the G7, condemning Modi for overseeing “Operation Sindoor”— a supposed cross-border campaign targeting Sikh activists abroad. While their language may be inflammatory, the underlying grievances stem from real, painful losses and credible fears of future attacks.
Canada’s foreign policy here appears to be contorting itself into a tragicomic paradox. One year ago, Trudeau bravely took a principled stand, not only naming India as complicit in Nijjar’s murder but calling on international allies to recognize and act against rising transnational repression. The USA, while initially cautious, confirmed in late 2023 that it had foiled a similar assassination plot against Sikh leader Gurpatwant Singh Pannun on US soil. A senior US official later stated that the attempt was “linked to Indian government employees”. If the USA and Canada have both verified the existence of a broader Indian kill list targeting dissenters overseas, how can Ottawa now shake hands with the very architect of this campaign?
If Canada truly believes in the sovereignty of nations, in the dignity of its citizens, and in the sanctity of human life, then it must not just seek cooperation— it must demand accountability. Otherwise, we risk becoming not a sanctuary of justice, but a marketplace where even sovereignty can be traded for economic convenience.
We must also address the broader global stakes of this shameful capitulation. India under Modi has not only pursued alleged extrajudicial killings but has also systematically undermined democratic norms domestically— targeting journalists, jailing opposition leaders, rewriting history textbooks, and fanning communal flames. Under his Bharatiya Janata Party, hate crimes against minorities, especially Muslims and Christians, have surged while dissenting voices are routinely muzzled under draconian laws. According to Reporters Without Borders, India ranks 159th out of 180 countries in press freedom— hardly a beacon of liberal democracy.
This is not just about bilateral relations or even the sanctity of Canadian soil. It is about what kind of global community we are becoming. Are economic interests now so sacrosanct that they allow impunity for assassination, silencing dissent, and targeting minorities? Are we to accept a world order where democratic nations celebrate the arrival of authoritarians who subvert every value the G7 purports to champion?
Prime Minister Carney may argue that dialogue is essential, that diplomacy demands engaging with difficult partners. But this is not engagement— it is appeasement. And appeasement, history teaches us, never curbs the ambitions of the overreaching— it emboldens them.
Canada had an opportunity— indeed, a responsibility— to draw a red line. To say: not on our soil, not under our watch, not in our house. Instead, it has chosen complicity cloaked in ceremony.
If Canada truly believes in the sovereignty of nations, in the dignity of its citizens, and in the sanctity of human life, then it must not just seek cooperation— it must demand accountability. Otherwise, we risk becoming not a sanctuary of justice, but a marketplace where even sovereignty can be traded for economic convenience.
In inviting Modi, Canada has made a statement—not of strength, but of surrender. A surrender of moral authority, of judicial integrity, and of its duty to protect those who believed in its promise of freedom and refuge. This is no longer about balancing diplomacy with pragmatism; this is about whether the world’s so-called democracies still possess the courage to call tyranny by its name.
If Canada now embraces a leader accused of transnational repression and political murder, it sends a dangerous signal: that authoritarianism can be forgiven, even rewarded, if it comes dressed in the robes of economic opportunity. But history has never been kind to such compromises. It remembers not only the crimes, but the silence of those who knew—and chose to look the other way.
For all its posturing on human rights and the rule of law, Canada’s open-armed reception of Modi invites a harsher truth: that justice, when inconvenient, can be postponed indefinitely. But no summit, no handshake, and no diplomatic platitudes can rewrite the facts. And no nation can long call itself just, if it forgets the blood spilled on its own soil.
