India refused to sign the SCO declaration after China omitted a reference to the recent terror attack in Kashmir, highlighting growing tensions over selective condemnation of terrorism.

In the global vocabulary of power and policy, few words have been as routinely diluted—and politically weaponized—as “terrorism.” In the West and beyond, such terms as democracy, freedom, and peace are deployed with performative ease, while terrorism remains a term invoked more for geopolitical expediency than moral clarity. In an era of proliferating conflicts, the only real refuge seems to be the legacy of international law—those rules and norms painstakingly constructed during peacetime to curb both state and non-state criminality. But that legacy is under siege, not least by the dangerous toleration of terrorism when it suits economic or strategic interests.

Terrorism, long a proxy for backroom deals and ideological agendas, now wears many masks—religious fanaticism, nationalist revolt, or revolutionary backlash to perceived violations of sovereignty. Yet if we are to confront it honestly, we must admit that it is not only born of failed states or theocratic regimes. It is also nurtured, sometimes quietly, by powerful, seemingly stable states—China among them.

On June 26, India’s Defence Minister Rajnath Singh refused to sign the draft declaration at the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) meeting, citing China’s selective treatment of terrorism. The final document conspicuously failed to mention the April 22 terrorist attack in Pahalgam, Kashmir, while including a reference to the hijacking of the Jafar Express in Pakistan this past March. This, to India, was more than diplomatic oversight—it was a case study in double standards.

The SCO, formed in 2001 and now comprising ten member states—India, China, Russia, Pakistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Iran, and Belarus—traces its roots to the 1996 “Shanghai Quintet,” a post-Soviet effort to ease border disputes and ethnic tensions in Central Asia. With observer status at the UN since 2004, the SCO has evolved into the world’s largest regional organization by geographic and demographic reach. According to its charter, the group stands for sovereign equality, territorial integrity, and peaceful dispute resolution. But beneath these principles lies a volatile mix of strategic interests and political posturing.

If QUAD, the informal strategic alliance among the U.S., India, Japan, and Australia, seeks to contain China’s rise in the Indo-Pacific, then the SCO—anchored by China and Russia—presents itself as a counterbalance to Western hegemony. While both bodies speak the language of peace and cooperation, their geopolitical rivalries often turn such rhetoric hollow. India’s refusal to endorse the SCO statement highlights a glaring fault line within this architecture: the inability to agree on a shared definition of terrorism, let alone a shared strategy to combat it.

The SCO’s Regional Anti-Terrorism Structure (RATS) was designed to facilitate intelligence-sharing and coordination on counterterrorism. But when it came to India’s concerns, the structure proved performative at best. “India wanted the document to reflect concerns about terrorism,” said Randhir Jaiswal, spokesperson for India’s foreign ministry. “That was not acceptable to a particular country, and hence the statement was not adopted.” The country in question, of course, is China.

With Russia deeply entangled in its ongoing war with Ukraine, China’s influence within the SCO has only grown. As the current chair of the organization, China hosted the defense ministers’ summit in the eastern port city of Qingdao. Yet this year’s proceedings seemed less about regional cooperation and more about reinforcing China’s own political alignments—chief among them, with Pakistan.

India’s long-standing friction with Pakistan needs little introduction. But China’s backing of Pakistan, especially in the wake of operations like Sindoor, marks a deeper entanglement. China has repeatedly used its clout in multilateral forums to shield Pakistan from international censure for terror-related activities. That context gave Singh’s refusal to sign the declaration an added symbolic heft. It wasn’t just about the omission of one attack—it was a declaration of India’s “zero tolerance” policy toward all forms of terrorism, regardless of who perpetrates it or who chooses to look the other way.

During his address, Singh pulled no punches. He cited the April 22 Pahalgam attack, which was claimed by the Resistance Front—a proxy of Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT). “The pattern of the Pahalgam attack matches the previous terrorist attacks by the LeT in India,” Singh said. “India’s zero tolerance for terrorism is not rhetorical—it is evident through our actions.”

By contrast, the SCO’s final statement made no mention of the Pahalgam attack, yet took care to include the hijacking incident in Balochistan—a region where India has been accused by Pakistan of fomenting separatist unrest. The omission was, from India’s standpoint, not only political but morally bankrupt.

“Peace and prosperity cannot coexist with terrorism and the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction in the hands of non-state actors,” Singh added. “Some countries use cross-border terrorism as a political tool. There should be no room for such double standards. The SCO must call out such nations.”

And then there is China. Beijing often projects itself as a beleaguered state, vulnerable to foreign plots against its communist system. But this narrative conveniently omits the ways in which China has directly or indirectly enabled militant activity across Asia and beyond. Chinese-made arms, body cameras, and encrypted devices have been found in Kashmir-based terror groups like Jaish-e-Mohammed and Lashkar-e-Taiba. Drones and satellite tech, routed through Pakistan, trace their origins to Chinese suppliers. International and Myanmar-based military sources have accused China of arming insurgent groups such as the Arakan Army and the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army.

In 2024, U.S. sanctions named Chinese firms that supplied dual-use components to the Houthis, enabling attacks on the Suez Canal. And let us not forget that China blocked multiple attempts at the UN—most notably in 2009, 2016, and 2017—to designate Jaish-e-Mohammed leader Masood Azhar as a global terrorist.

The Communist Party of China has become adept at curating its own victimhood while disguising its role as an enabler of global instability. Its repression of Uyghur Muslims—denounced by Washington as genocide—is framed as a preemptive measure against terrorism. But that framing masks a broader tactic: using the specter of terrorism to justify authoritarianism, while quietly abetting violent actors abroad when it suits its interests.

The danger lies in this double game. If the international community continues to accept China’s narratives at face value, it risks legitimizing an emerging power willing to destabilize regional orders in pursuit of influence. This is not unlike the rhetorical gymnastics once deployed by President Donald Trump when he claimed that bombing Iranian nuclear facilities was a path to peace. That kind of dissonance—between stated values and realpolitik—should serve as a warning, not a precedent.

India’s decision to stand its ground within the SCO is not just a rebuke of diplomatic hypocrisy. It is a call for moral consistency in the global fight against terrorism. Anything less is not just dangerous—it is enabling.