Navigating Solidarity in an Age of Cognitive Warfare

If we fail to recognize and counter this, we risk becoming passive actors in a game of geopolitical manipulation designed to erode solidarity and perpetuate cycles of oppression.

Jungfateh Singh | @jungfatehsingh

Over the past year, the world has borne witness to an unparalleled level of destruction in Gaza. Israel has bombed residential areas, civilians, and critical infrastructure, leaving behind disintegrated bodies buried in rubble and displaced masses. Yet, amid this devastation, there is also celebration—of resistance, of defiance, of martyrdom. Armed militants continue to clash with an imperialist power, choosing to stand and fight, even if that fight leads to death. For many in the Sikh diaspora watching this genocide unfold, these scenes invoke all-too-familiar feelings of rage and frustration, watching as Canadian political leaders and other settler-colonial Western nations continue to express unwavering support for the jarvana (oppressor) in this circumstance, Israel. The sense of apathy, both within Canada and the wider international community, fuels the anger of those who feel a profound disconnect between their struggle and the positions taken by the governments meant to represent them. 

In response, Palestinians and their allies have mobilized across the world, activating grassroots power, building solidarity, and celebrating their struggle for liberation. From community centers to the streets, their message has been clear: this is not a fight for the faint-hearted. This is a life-and-death struggle, and they will not be silenced. The sheer scope of their global mobilization has drawn attention to the shared urgency and commonality of liberation struggles everywhere, including those of Lebanese groups, the Houthis, and other communities who also face the crushing weight of imperialist powers around the world. The connections between these  struggles have long been understood by those on the frontlines of resistance, where the convergence of regional oppressions and shared colonial histories has created a natural solidarity among movements. For those directly impacted by the violence of imperialist powers, there is a visceral, lived understanding that their fates are bound together. However, the same cannot always be said for those of us in the diaspora. 

Distance from the physical sites–and shocking realities–of struggle often dulls this sense of interconnectedness, leaving us prone to compartmentalizing these movements or viewing them as unrelated from a distance. This disconnect weakens our grasp of the global dynamics at hand and, at times, leads to reactionary responses that undermine the principles of broader resistance. Rather than excuse this distance, it should compel us to work harder in fostering genuine relationships and understanding the unity between struggles, despite our physical separation.

It is within this emotionally charged and globally significant context that an incident occurred at a protest in Malton, Mississauga which captured the attention of many Sikhs in the online bubble. The placing of a Palestinian flag and keffiyeh on the statue of Maharaja Ranjit Singh quickly ignited a firestorm of outrage in certain online spaces. Yet, what is most troubling about this response is that it seems to have mostly come from those who have, up until now, largely paid little to no attention to the unfolding atrocities in Palestine. The suffering of an entire people seems to have escaped their notice, only for their voices to emerge now, focused on one isolated incident rather than the lives being torn apart in Gaza, Lebanon, and other regions suffering under Israel’s ongoing atrocities every single day.

Even more disconcerting is the selective outrage we have witnessed from some Sikh digital platforms. For the past 12 months, while Palestinian families were bombed and lives were lost, these voices were silent. Now, they emerge not to condemn the atrocities in Palestine but to express anger over the actions of several individuals. This selective engagement speaks to a deeper issue within our community. What do we value, and why? Are we still committed to the principles of justice and liberation, or have we become more invested in aligning ourselves with the violent states we inhabit—hating the 'enemies' we're told to despise, in a desperate bid for proximity to whiteness? Has our desire to fit within these systems of power become more vital than standing with those who resist them?

It is vital to acknowledge that segments of the Sikh community saw the act of unilaterally placing a flag and keffiyeh without the community’s participation in poor taste, but this is not where the conversation should end. Practicing and building solidarity between different communities is a constant and ongoing process that calls for dialogue, mutual understanding, and collective action especially when navigating each others’ spaces or with each others’ symbols. This is a natural part of life and even more so, in collective struggle. Understanding and acknowledging why some genuinely found the imagery distasteful is key to bridging the gap between our communities.

But if we are to examine this situation, we must also confront a deeper question: Are we angry about the acts appropriating Sikh symbols in principle, or are we angry that it was specifically Palestinians who used imagery to align Sikh and Palestinians symbols together? If it’s the former, we need to reflect on why there is silence when the Canadian flag is raised in our Sikh spaces. We see a surge of anger at the sight of the Palestinian flag and keffiyeh, symbols of a people's fight for survival, yet remain indifferent when the Canadian flag—emblematic of its own legacy of genocide and systemic violence—is flown alongside our Nishan Sahibs. For Indigenous peoples, the Canadian flag represents centuries of displacement, state-sanctioned racism, and the horrors of the residential school system, where countless children were torn from their families and stripped of their identities. How do we, a community so attuned to the pain of oppression, turn a blind eye to this? How can we direct outrage towards symbols of resistance, while passively accepting the presence of a flag deeply intertwined with the ongoing trauma of other marginalized people? This selective silence reveals a troubling contradiction in our values, one that we must reckon with if we are to uphold the true principles of justice and solidarity.

But again, this is not where the conversation should end. The issue Sikh naujawan and Sikh politics more broadly are navigating here goes beyond the statue of Maharaja Ranjit Singh—it's about the underlying politics and priorities that shape our opinions and decisions. Many who disagreed with the actions taken by those individuals found constructive ways to engage and resolve the issue. However, those engaging in performative outrage online seized the incident as an excuse to use Sikhi as a pretext to voice their own Islamophobia and opposition to the Palestinian struggle, or to undermine the very possibility of solidarity. The reality is, most of these individuals had no intention of fostering genuine solidarity in the first place, instead using Sikhi as a convenient smokescreen to justify their support for Israel, or at the very least, ignoring the continued oppression of the Palestinian people.

True solidarity is always an evolving process, one that requires mutual respect, clear boundaries, and collective action. It is co-created in good faith, where each party respects the dignity and autonomy of the other. However, this process is only possible when there is a genuine desire to engage in solidarity to begin with.

Those broadcasting and sharing inflammatory content without context bear responsibility for inflaming further polarization in this as well.  Inflammatory content, shared across social media, creates a vacuum where understanding and dialogue should exist. This is not a problem unique to the Sikh community—the entire world, including superpowers, struggle with the rampant disinformation and polarization that social media facilitates. Inflammatory content is often shared without context, creating a dangerous cycle where outrage is stoked, and communities are pushed into rash, reactionary positions. We’ve seen this repeatedly, from Punjab to Malton—where decontextualized clips go viral, sparking intense outrage and mobilizing protests, only for the facts to emerge later, revealing ulterior motives or otherwise detrimental consequences. Social media, in its rush to amplify the most provocative narratives, strips away the nuances that are crucial for informed decision-making, leaving us fighting battles we didn’t choose or understand fully. This is the nature of digital misinformation, and it’s a persistent challenge we face in navigating today’s political landscape. In this case, it detracts from the much larger issue: the need for recognizing the interconnectedness of liberation struggles and moving towards collection action alongside those engaged in similar fights against similar/aligned oppressors.

As we navigate this incident, it is critical that we avoid the dangerous trap of becoming ensnared in reactionary politics. Reactionary responses, driven by emotion rather than grounded in sidhant (principle) and deep understanding, often result in impulsive decisions and a form of politics that is ultimately futile. In this case, the reaction to the flag and keffiyeh incident has been manipulated by those seeking to undermine pro-Palestine protests and the struggle for liberation itself—weaponizing genuine concerns to further divisive agendas. Such responses lack a deeper comprehension of the broader context of Palestinian resistance, a resistance rooted in survival against settler-colonial forces. It is essential that we remember: when we allow ourselves to be swept away by reactionary outrage, we lose sight of our greater responsibility. As a people engaged in our own active struggle against a fascist state—one that is supported by global powers out of their narrow self-interest—we must maintain clarity of vision. If we lose this clarity, we risk betraying the principles that have always guided our fight for justice and liberation. The rush to condemnation has distracted us from the larger political realities that we should be addressing, both in Palestine and in our own communities.

More troubling still is the lack of recognition of our geopolitical position within these broader struggles. We live in countries that not only support but actively facilitate the Israeli genocide in Palestine—whether through military aid, immunity from accountability, or the suppression of protests on their own soil. This exposes where their interests truly lie. Yet, many within our community seem to hold the dangerously naïve belief that these same nations, which turn a blind eye to a live-streamed genocide, will somehow provide justice for the atrocities we have endured as Sikhs—the ongoing repression of our people and the assassinations of Sikh leaders abroad. This belief is not only short-sighted but also delusional. The idea that our struggles for justice can be separated from the systemic injustices perpetrated by these very powers is deeply flawed.

What this moment makes clear is that these global powers have no regard for marginalized communities unless it serves their geopolitical interests. To ask for justice from such systems is to ignore the very root of their oppression. Instead of placing faith in these very structures, there is greater value in engaging with modes of politics rooted in grassroots mobilization. These movements, which exist outside the framework of mainstream politics, are where our shared struggles for justice can truly be realized.

Complicating matters further, this issue is being actively weaponized by Indian bot accounts to drive a wedge between the Sikh and Palestinian communities. However, the manipulation at play goes far beyond simple misinformation tactics. The growing strategic alliance between India and Israel plays a far more sinister role, extending into the realms of cyber warfare and cognitive manipulation. Israel, with its vast expertise in military intelligence and psychological operations, aids India in enhancing its cyber capabilities through psyops and cognitive warfare campaigns. These campaigns are not just about spreading false narratives; they aim to alter the decision-making processes, behaviors, and outlooks of entire communities.

This collaboration represents a deeply alarming escalation, moving from mere disinformation to full-scale cognitive warfare. The tools being developed and deployed are designed not just to mislead but to fundamentally shift how individuals perceive reality and engage with the world around them. By using advanced technologies that integrate psychological operations with neuroscience and cyber tools, these tactics go far beyond manipulating facts; they actively seek to reshape political behavior and social attitudes. This is not a simple battle over misinformation—it is a war on thought itself.

A CSIS Analytical Brief from September 2023 highlighted the growing severity of India’s focus on cognitive warfare, describing it as an “unconventional form of aggression that uses cyber tools to alter cognitive and decision-making processes of an individual or a group of individuals. It involves the integration of traditional psychological and information operations with the latest advances in computer, cognitive, and neuroscience technologies.” This strategic shift represents a disturbing development, where the manipulation of thoughts and perceptions becomes a key weapon, far beyond traditional disinformation tactics. India’s collaboration with Israel, particularly in developing these technologies, is a key part of this strategy. The implications are deeply troubling: these tactics undermine the very foundations of informed decision-making, replacing autonomous thought with engineered compliance.

The gravity of this situation cannot be overstated. We are no longer merely confronting misleading headlines or decontextualized social media clips; we are facing a deliberate, calculated effort to distort reality on a mass scale. If we fail to recognize and counter this, we risk becoming passive actors in a game of geopolitical manipulation designed to erode solidarity and perpetuate cycles of oppression. As these tactics are employed to fracture movements and disrupt alliances, our response must be grounded in a clear-eyed understanding of these broader forces at work. It is not only our political autonomy at stake but our collective ability to resist and organize in meaningful, lasting ways.

It is important to note that the Palestinian struggle is not an isolated one. It is deeply interconnected with the resistance of other regional communities—Lebanese groups, the Houthis, and others—who also face the crushing weight of imperialist powers. Their grief, too, is collective, born out of historical and ongoing oppression. As we discuss solidarity, we must keep this broader regional context in mind, recognizing that these struggles are intertwined and must be addressed holistically.

​​In the first week of October, the Khalistan Centre published a collective statement of solidarity with the Palestinian struggle, recognizing that our fates are interconnected with those of other oppressed peoples: “Solidarity is not an abstract concept; it is rooted in action, in our lived history, in our willingness to take risks and stand firm.” Our solidarity is not theoretical, it is lived, embodied through our actions and our deep commitment to resisting oppression wherever it exists. Those of us actively engaged in solidarity with other marginalized groups do not need to justify our actions to others. We do not act in pursuit of validation or popular approval; we act because our path, set forth by the Guru, commands it. We are not swayed by the fleeting judgments of others, for we know the truth of our struggle. Public opinion may shift and falter, but our commitment to justice, rooted in the eternal teachings of our Gurus, remains steadfast.

During the peak of the Khalistan sangarsh (struggle), the Sikh Students Federation, an armed militant group, incisively stated: “So long as the Sikh movement was guarded by the poor and the oppressed forces, it remained in perfect health (naun-bar-naun) and high spirits (chardi kala) with respect to its aims, objectives, and principles.” This reminder is crucial for us today. We cannot allow our struggle to be dictated by those who do not share in the suffering of the oppressed. When the movement is hijacked by those removed from the reality of oppression, it risks being diluted, losing its clarity of purpose, and becoming disconnected from its original aims. The voices and actions of those who live on the margins—those who understand the weight of colonialism, state violence, and injustice firsthand—must continue to guide and guard our struggle. If we allow the privileged or those seeking to appease oppressive systems to steer our path, we risk betraying the very principles on which our movements are built.

This is not about forging alliances for the sake of appearance. It is about realigning our mental coordinates to be firmly rooted in the spiritual and political traditions of Guru Granth-Panth—traditions that reject liberal, imperialist systems that divide and subdue us. Our struggle is not a fight for relevance within these hollow institutions; it is a fight to dismantle them entirely. Anything less than an unyielding commitment to our own principles, anything short of standing in active solidarity with other oppressed peoples, is a betrayal of our history and our future. We are not passive observers in the global struggle; we are active participants, guided by the teachings of our Gurus, and we will not rest until justice is realized for all. Anything less is a disservice to the struggles we are a part of, both here and abroad.