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By:

Chaitanya Giri

3 October 2024 at 5:27:32 am

India’s Space Programme in an Age of Polycrisis

In the first of a two-part series, we examine why India’s space programme must evolve for an age of wars and global instability, where old civilian-military binaries no longer suffice. In the lead-up to the multi-state assembly elections scheduled for April 2026, and subsequently during his international visit in May 2026, Prime Minister Narendra Modi consistently emphasised the substantial challenges the global community is currently facing, including ongoing conflicts, supply chain...

India’s Space Programme in an Age of Polycrisis

In the first of a two-part series, we examine why India’s space programme must evolve for an age of wars and global instability, where old civilian-military binaries no longer suffice. In the lead-up to the multi-state assembly elections scheduled for April 2026, and subsequently during his international visit in May 2026, Prime Minister Narendra Modi consistently emphasised the substantial challenges the global community is currently facing, including ongoing conflicts, supply chain disruptions, and the adverse secondary effects on the international economy and diplomatic relations. This was exemplified in his address to the diaspora in The Hague. “This decade is increasingly turning into a decade of disasters for the world. We can all see that if these conditions are not changed swiftly, the achievements of many past decades could be undone. A very large section of the world’s population could once again be pushed into the quagmire of poverty.” India’s ascent during the Amrit Kaal is contingent upon global geoeconomic stability and a prolonged period of peace, or at least a state lacking large-scale conflict. Despite the emergence of various conflicts, Prime Minister Modi consistently emphasised, “This is not the era of wars,” while the themes of the 2023 G20 presidency, ‘Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam,’ and the 2026 BRICS presidency, ‘Humanity First,’ highlighted the significance of the interconnected advancement of India and the international community. Notwithstanding this, in situations where ongoing reorganisation of the global hierarchy results in prolonged international conflicts, disruptions, and the decline of international standards, one of the many initiatives that the Government of India must contemporise is the core vision and mission of the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO). Trinary Space Fusion What are the expectations of the Prime Minister’s Office regarding the Indian space program? It is anticipated that the program will innovate in advanced space technologies, excel in space sciences, serve the most underserved segments of society, mitigate environmental stresses, assist in identifying remedial mechanisms, strengthen the national economy and societal indicators through the commercialisation of space endeavours, and, most importantly, ensure comprehensive national security. Since the space program clearly serves both military and non-military needs, Indian strategic circles have absorbed the two lexicons, ‘civil-military fusion’ and ‘civil-military integration’, originating in Chinese and United States strategic literature. Today, several proposals have been made to implement civil-military fusion within the Indian space ecosystem. However, is it a good model for India to approach? The two lexicons, civil-military fusion and its antecedent, civil-military integration, are products of Chinese strategic literature. Characterised by a clearly defined binary system, civil-military fusion receives substantial support from the highest echelons of authority - the General Secretary of the Communist Party of China. The Party has established a binary civilian-military control mechanism over space-based and terrestrial assets, financial flows, innovation capital, and associated returns. While the Central Military Commission serves as the military authority, the State Council, through several state-controlled enterprises, serves as the civilian authority. Flexible Binary The United States does not maintain a rigid civil-military binary. For the longest time, US commercial and civilian entities and institutions have held dedicated portfolios of civilian and defence projects. Following the transformation of the Department of Defense into the Department of War in 2025, the latter now serves as the principal integrator of all sensory data and intelligence collected from commercial space contractors, civilian space and scientific agencies such as the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, and United States Geological Survey, as well as Federally Funded Research and Development Centres. In both China and the United States, civilians not part of the military—operating both within and outside government structures—are increasingly functioning as co-workers of uniformed personnel. There are instances where they are also becoming co-workers with private military contractors and militias engaged in prolonged grey-zone armed conflicts. In India’s case, we have a trinary. For India, civilian space activities refer to the ‘nationalised’ space activities, fully operated by the executive arm of the government. This ecosystem comprises the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO), public sector undertakings, various ministries of the government, and a select band of private space contractors that work exclusively with nationalised financial and technological resources. In 2010, a small unit, known as the Integrated Space Cell, was established within the Integrated Defence Services Headquarters to dedicate certain ISRO-built assets for breaking the back of cross-border terrorism and ensuring peace along the Indian frontiers. By 2012, the Naresh Chandra Task Force had recommended the creation of an aerospace command. In 2019, the Integrated Space Cell was relegated, and the tri-service Defence Space Agency (DSA) and the Defence Space Research Agency (DSRA) were established. In 2026, a separate Defence Geospatial Agency (DGA) was created. While the Space Based Surveillance I and II were outputs of the ‘nationalised’ civil-military complex, with state-laboratories of ISRO and DRDO building and launching satellites, the upcoming Space Based Surveillance III has widened the horizons, with the third arm of the trinary, the stand-alone commercial space sector. Dual-Purpose Space Agencies Indian space strategy planners must, for the good, relinquish their understanding of dual-purpose technology development within the siloed civil-military binary. The Pentagon and the White House now clearly view NASA as one of the technological and sensor layers of the US space program, the other two being those built by the Pentagon and the US commercial space ecosystem. The United States’ ambitions in the lunar and cislunar regions are neither exclusively civilian—implying a pacifist or non-military nature—nor restricted to NASA. In March 2026, the United States relinquished its Lunar Gateway, a lunar orbital space station, and adopted a ‘Surface-First’ strategy to establish a permanent presence on the Moon. The strategic objective of the United States is to compete with the Chinese civil-military complex and to attain control of the lunar surface, regarded as the next strategic high ground. To this end, NASA, the United States Space Force, and the expansive US commercial space sector collaborate in concert. The decade of disasters and upheavals does not permit India the liberty to run mutually exclusive civilian, military, and commercial space programs. The fusion of the three has to happen. Space weather is a trinary pursuit, vital for scientists, armed forces, and commercial space operations. NAVIC is not only a civilian PNT system, but a strategic civil-military-commercial asset. Cislunar operations cannot be carried out solely by ISRO; the next military institution emerging from the DSA-DSRA-DGA combine, the aerospace command, will have a role to play in them. The changing character of space power now increasingly mirrors the changing character of geopolitics itself. Nations are no longer treating space merely as a theatre of scientific prestige or symbolic technological accomplishment. Space is rapidly becoming the infrastructure layer beneath global commerce, digital sovereignty, battlefield awareness, logistics, climate resilience and diplomatic leverage. In such an environment, countries that continue to compartmentalise their space sectors risk strategic obsolescence. India therefore confronts not merely a technological challenge, but a doctrinal one. The debate is no longer whether India should possess advanced space capabilities but whether those capabilities can be organised in a manner adequate for a fractured world order increasingly shaped by sanctions, proxy conflicts, technological blocs and weaponised interdependence. (The writer is a Space and Emerging Technology Fellow at the Centre for Security, Strategy and Technology, Observer Research Foundation, Mumbai.Views personal.)

The Soul of Bharat on the Big Screen

Mumbai: April 4, 2025, my heart feels heavier than it ever has. The news hit me like a monsoon storm—Manoj Kumar, the towering legend of Bollywood, the man who painted patriotism across our screens, is no more. At 87, he slipped away at Mumbai’s Kokilaben Dhirubhai Ambani Hospital, leaving behind a reel of memories that flicker in my mind like a projector that won’t stop spinning. As a movie fan who grew up with his films, I’m not just mourning an actor—I’m grieving the loss of a piece of my soul, a piece of India itself. They called him "Bharat Kumar," and oh, how he earned that name.


I remember the first time I saw ‘Upkar’ (1967). I was a kid, sprawled on the living room floor, eyes glued to our old TV. Manoj ji played Bharat, the farmer who gave everything—his dreams, his love—for his country’s soil. That song, “Mere Desh Ki Dharti,” wasn’t just a tune; it was a heartbeat, pulsing with pride and sacrifice. I’d hum it walking to school, feeling like I, too, could be that noble, that selfless. He won a National Film Award for that one, and rightly so—it wasn’t acting; it was living.

Then there was ‘Shaheed’ (1965), where he brought Bhagat Singh back to life. I’d sit there, popcorn forgotten, as he roared defiance against the British, his eyes blazing with a fire that could’ve lit up the darkest colonial night. It wasn’t just a film—it was a revolution on celluloid, a call to remember the blood that bought our freedom. Manoj ji didn’t just play the martyr; he became him, and every time I watch it, I feel that lump in my throat, that sting in my eyes. It’s no wonder it snagged three National Awards—his passion was a gift to us all.


Oh, and ‘Purab Aur Paschim’ (1970)—how do I even begin? He directed and starred as Bharat again, this time wrestling with the clash of East and West, showing us the beauty of our roots while the world tried to pull us away. I’d laugh at Saira Banu’s antics, then choke up when Manoj ji stood tall, singing “Hai Preet Jahan Ki Reet Sada.” It was a blockbuster, sure, but it was more—it was a love letter to India, penned in his signature hand-over-face style. That move, mocked by some, was his shield, his quiet strength, and I adored it.

And who could forget ‘Roti Kapda Aur Makaan’ (1974)? He directed and starred as Bharat—again, because who else could?—tackling poverty, injustice, and the gut-wrenching struggle for the basics of life. I’d watch, fists clenched, as he fought for the everyman, his voice cracking with raw emotion. It wasn’t just a movie; it was a mirror to our society, a cry for change. Seven Filmfare Awards across his career, they say, but this one felt like it carried them all—his heart bled through every frame.


Then there’s ‘Kranti’ (1981), the epic that had me on the edge of my seat. Manoj ji as the freedom fighter, leading Dilip Kumar and Hema Malini through a storm of rebellion—it was grand, it was gritty, it was everything Bollywood could be. “Zindagi Ki Na Toote Ladi” still echoes in my ears, a reminder of the battles he fought on screen, battles that felt so real I’d dream of joining the fight. He didn’t just direct that film; he sculpted a monument to resilience, and I’d cheer like a fool every time he outsmarted the British.


As I sit here, flipping through these memories, I can’t help but feel cheated. Manoj Kumar wasn’t just an actor or director—he was family. Born Harikrishan Goswami in 1937, he carried the Partition’s scars from Abbottabad to Delhi, turning pain into purpose. He gave us over 50 films in a career spanning four decades, snagging the Padma Shri in 1992 and the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2015—honors that felt too small for a man who gave India its cinematic soul. His last role in ‘Jai Hind’ (1999) might’ve flopped, but it didn’t dim his light in my eyes.


I’d read how he met Bhagat Singh’s mother before ‘Shaheed’, seeking her blessing—can you imagine the weight of that? Or how PM Lal Bahadur Shastri urged him to make ‘Upkar’ after the 1965 war, handing him “Jai Jawan Jai Kisan” like a sacred torch? That’s who he was—a man who didn’t just entertain but carried a nation’s dreams.


Manoj ji, you weren’t just “Bharat Kumar” to me—you were the uncle who taught me pride, the friend who shared my anger, the poet who sang my hopes. Your films weren’t movies; they were my childhood, my rebellion, my tears. I’ll miss you like I miss the India you dreamed of—flawed, fierce, and forever ours. Rest in peace, sir. Om Shanti.

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