Parliamentary diplomacy is a fancy term for something very simple: elected representatives talking to one another across borders to ease tensions, exchange ideas, and build trust when formal diplomats hit roadblocks. Because MPs are answerable to voters, the tone is often more down-to-earth than the stiff notes exchanged by foreign ministries. Scholars call this Track 1½ diplomacy, a lane that sits halfway between official talks, known as Track 1, and the informal chats of academics or NGOs, called Track 2.
In Track 1½, every word still matters. A heartfelt story from one’s constituency or personal experience can break the diplomatic freeze. That blend of authority and flexibility makes parliamentary diplomacy surprisingly effective in global problem-solving, from ending wars to writing rules for artificial intelligence.
India, the world’s largest democracy, has all the ingredients to lead in this space.
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Operation Sindoor as a turning point
When India struck terrorist camps across the Line of Control after the brutal and barbaric Pahalgam attack as part of Operation Sindoor, the Modi-led government began sending multi-party teams of MPs to foreign capitals, instead of letting only seasoned envoys carry India’s message. The logic was very clear—when lawmakers from both treasury and opposition benches speak in a common voice, partners abroad see it as a national stand, not a partisan talking point. Seven different delegations, adding up to 59 MPs from the BJP, Congress, DMK, and others, were sent to 33 countries. They sat with foreign legislators, think-tank experts, editors, and Indian communities overseas. They explained why India had no choice but to act, how the strikes were measured and lawful, and why Pakistan must stop giving safe havens to militants.
Those conversations mattered. Reports from Washington, Europe, and the Gulf all said one thing: India’s story sounded more convincing when told by lawmakers from various shades of political affiliation, who do not hesitate to bicker, often acrimoniously, at home.
Even more important, the delegations reminded Indians back home that on national security, the House could still speak in one voice. The ripple effect at home was institutional. Lok Sabha Speaker Om Birla, noting that several host countries had requested permanent channels, recently pushed to revive formal friendship groups with foreign parliaments—a practice that had gone cold for years. Prime Minister Narendra Modi backed the plan, showing that the executive wants Parliament in the foreign-policy cockpit, not just cheering from the back.
Operation Sindoor was not a one-off. Back in 2012, an all-party group led by then Leader of Opposition, the late Sushma Swaraj ji, flew to Sri Lanka to press Colombo on Tamil rights. Their common stand eased worries in Tamil Nadu and nudged the Sri Lankan president toward some devolution steps. In 1994, then Prime Minister PV Narasimha Rao sent a delegation led by Leader of Opposition Atal Bihari Vajpayee ji to the United Nations Human Rights Commission (UNHRC) in Geneva to counter Pakistan.
Such stories match global patterns. During the late Cold War, US and Soviet lawmakers linked by satellite for the “Congressbridge” dialogues. The public could watch rivals trade barbs one moment and laugh the next, humanising each side long before formal arms deals were signed. Similar logic now guides the NATO Parliamentary Assembly’s outreach to Ukraine or ASEAN’s efforts to coax Myanmar back to democracy.
The need to scale up
Still, parliamentary diplomacy has its flaws. MPs juggle tight calendars, sparse research support, and election cycles that reset relationships every few years. Friendship groups risk becoming junkets if they lack clear goals, and bills can stall in committees.
The remedy is to institutionalise the craft: brief lawmakers before trips, give them professional staff, and store every visit’s minutes in a shared digital vault so successors start from version 2.0, not blank pages. The Speaker’s new plan for friendship groups should include a modest budget for such continuity tools.
Why does this matter for the average citizen? Because wars and AI glitches both end up hitting pocketbooks and personal freedoms. If a ceasefire fails, fuel prices soar. If a malicious bot floods social media with a virus, investors panic. MPs are closest to these everyday problems. When they step onto the international stage, they carry the hopes and fears of real people, not just bullet points from foreign-office cable grams. That human link can soften hard positions, keep talks alive during crises, and spot solutions diplomats might miss.
Imagine an Indian MP in Berlin explaining how a farmer in Kalahandi uses UPI and crop-insurance apps built on open-source platforms. That story can nudge German lawmakers to back joint funding for global digital public goods, giving both nations a stake in shared standards. Or picture an Indian MP at a parliamentarian forum hearing a Bangladeshi MP cite flooding data from Bangladesh that match rainfall patterns in Indian territories. They might jointly lobby for a climate-alert grid, knitting cooperation from common pain.
Track 1½ diplomacy draws strength from such stories. It turns abstract strategy into talks, which can be carried back home and translated into budgets, school programmes, or start-up rules.
For India, scaling this tool is both self-interest and soft-power display. A permanent Joint Committee on International Affairs, staffed with experts in peace studies and data security, could travel as easily as it legislates. It could run tours in the Indo-Pacific, host dialogue with African digital ministers, and even open its doors to diaspora town halls streamed online. When a crisis strikes—for example, a border flare-up, a rogue AI virus, or a vaccine rush—the committee would already know whom to call and what trust roadmap to follow. That readiness is cheaper than emergency firefighting.
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A way to build credibility and resilience
The Modi government, by embracing parliamentary outreach after Sindoor and by putting MPs at the centre of tech talks, has set the direction. Legislators of every party should see foreign engagement as part of the job. Voters must reward serious cross-border work, not just television debates. Ministries can share briefings on time and treat MPs as partners. Think-tanks and universities should feed quick factsheets and longer studies, so that lawmakers land abroad armed with more than just talking points. Parliament cloud could store country notes, contact books, and draft MOUs searchable by future delegations.
The world is listening. Many partners now ask India to lead South-South caucuses on AI ethics, digital payments, and climate-smart farming. Our MPs, shaped by the give-and-take of Indian democracy, are trained negotiators even before they step off the plane. If they speak with unity—ruling party, opposition, or regional voices—that chorus can be louder than any single ministry. The ceasefire that ends the next war, the treaty that stops a rogue algorithm, or the green corridor that stabilises supply chains might well be born in a roundtable chaired by a Lok Sabha or Rajya Sabha member. And that, in plain words, is why parliamentary diplomacy deserves more airtime, budget, and respect.
India’s edge is credibility. We host both billionaires and subsistence farmers, quantum labs and tribal schools. Our MPs straddle that range every week in their constituencies. When they enter the Track 1½ space, they bring practical insights: how to price solar pumps, how to teach AI basics in local languages, and how to police deepfakes. That lived reality can bust myths and unblock talks. Countries that once saw India through the narrow lens of non-alignment now see a partner who codes, vaccinates, mediates, and legislates at scale. That impression did not come only from G20 headlines; it came from MPs shaking hands in committee rooms.
Parliamentary diplomacy will not erase all wars or tame every dispute. But it certainly adds a layer of resilience. When leaders cannot meet, lawmakers still can. While diplomats talk numbers and protocol, legislators tell stories. One persuades the head, the other moves the heart. If we keep investing in this people-powered channel, our Parliament may yet prove to be the world’s best conflict-prevention tool—not with soaring speeches alone, but with steady, patient, everyday conversations that turn rival states into responsible neighbours and runaway tech into trusted tools.
The author is a Member of Parliament in the Rajya Sabha from Odisha and a practising advocate. The co-author is a Mukherjee Fellow working with MP Sujeet Kumar. Views are personal.
(Edited by Asavari Singh)