Dilemmas of neutrality as war breaks out at sea |
The sinking of an Iranian naval warship in the eastern Indian Ocean offers a stark reminder of how quickly the comfortable assumptions of peacetime maritime diplomacy collapse once war begins. The IRIS Dena had reportedly left Visakhapatnam well before hostilities broke out. Yet by the time it was transiting the Indian Ocean, it had become a hunted ship. A US submarine torpedoed it about 40 nautical miles south of Galle, in waters within Sri Lanka’s Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), but legally open to foreign military operations.
The episode has exacted a heavy human toll. Of a crew strength of 187, 87 are reportedly dead. Officers and sailors who only days earlier had participated in a multinational naval exercise suddenly found themselves the victims of a war they had likely only just begun to comprehend. Their fate reflects the unforgiving logic of naval warfare: Once hostilities begin, adversary assets in international waters become legitimate targets.
The incident also highlights the uncomfortable dilemmas war imposes on neutral States. Countries that are not party to a conflict often find themselves drawn into its operational geography, facing consequences they never anticipated. As belligerents contest the seas, neutrals must scrupulously maintain equal distance from both sides.
The fate of the IRIS Dena illustrates this dilemma. Having sailed from India well before the fighting began, the ship found itself navigating an ocean that had become operationally hostile. Its crew likely knew that the surrounding waters offered little protection — and that nearby States could not readily provide sanctuary without risking the appearance of taking sides. Reports suggest India did offer the Dena temporary refuge before the attack, and that another Iranian warship, the IRIS Lavan, docked at Kochi a day after the Dena was torpedoed. Why the Dena’s captain did not accept the Indian offer remains unclear.
Reportedly, the vessel remained off Sri Lanka’s southern coast for several hours before it was struck and sunk. There are suggestions that it sought permission to dock at Galle, but Colombo hesitated over how to respond. Such hesitation is hardly surprising. Decisions about offering harbour to belligerent warships carry immediate implications for neutral States that are torn between humanitarian accommodation and the preservation of neutrality.
To its credit, the Sri Lankan navy mounted a vigorous search-and-rescue effort following the sinking, rescuing more than 30 survivors. Colombo has since allowed another Iranian warship, the IRIS Bushehr, to dock at Trincomalee to enable the evacuation of its crew. Yet the Sri Lankan government is reportedly under pressure from the US not to repatriate the rescued sailors from the IRIS Dena.
Sri Lanka is not the first State to face such a predicament. History is replete with examples of neutrality dilemmas. During World War II, neutral States frequently became temporary refuges for damaged ships and stranded crews. Humanitarian accommodation — whether through rescue, refuge or internment — often provoked accusations from one belligerent or another that neutrality had been compromised. Colombo’s dilemma, however, is unusual in that the incident occurred far away from the principal theatre of conflict.
For India, too, the circumstances surrounding the sinking of IRIS Dena are unsettling. The ship had been a guest of the Indian Navy only days before it was destroyed, and while the incident occurred outside India’s EEZ, it unfolded in waters New Delhi regards as part of its immediate strategic neighbourhood. Legally, belligerents are free to target one another in international waters. Yet the Iranian vessel had only recently participated in a multinational naval exercise and was, by several accounts, operating under the cooperative protocols typical of such engagements. It was sunk by a submarine belonging to one of India’s closest maritime partners — one that had itself taken part in the same exercise. Although the US did not deploy a warship for the exercise, it was represented through other forms of participation.
To be sure, India bore no legal or operational responsibility to protect the ship. Such obligations do not extend beyond territorial waters. Diplomacy, however, demands a degree of strategic sensitivity that goes beyond the strict letter of the law. Consider a reverse scenario. If an Indian warship were to, say, sink a Pakistani vessel returning from a multinational exercise in Hawaii or Guam, just outside US waters, the signal would be deeply unsettling for the US navy. Washington would certainly be embarrassed by the spectacle of a guest warship being destroyed by the navy of a partner that had participated in the same exercise.
The issue, therefore, is not so much legality as trust. If hostilities were about to extend into the Indian Ocean, a quiet advance intimation to close partners such as India would have been appropriate, simply to signal that the region might soon become an active theatre of operations. When a ship that has just participated in a multilateral exercise is sunk days later in nearby waters, it inevitably casts a shadow over the diplomatic purpose that naval engagements are meant to serve. The optics matter because naval diplomacy and naval warfare occur in the same waters.
For New Delhi — often described by US policymakers as one of Washington’s most reliable partners in the Indian Ocean — the episode inevitably raises uncomfortable questions. It invites reflection on the degree of strategic sensitivity accorded to the diplomatic equities of the US’ principal partner in the Indian Ocean. If strategic partnerships require a measure of political awareness about how actions are likely to be perceived by friends, the Trump administration has shown scant regard for such considerations in this instance.
The episode is also a reminder of a more enduring truth: Great powers ultimately prioritise their own strategic imperatives. In moments of conflict, the sensitivities of partner States are often subordinated to the logic of war and national interest.
Abhijit Singh is a retired naval officer and former head of maritime policy at ORF, New Delhi. The views expressed are personal