Something almost unthinkable happened today.
Here’s the short version: under intense pressure from Washington, India’s foreign minister, Subrahmanyam Jaishankar, still flew to Moscow and announced—in public—that New Delhi will buy even more Russian oil, dig deeper into Russian mines, and send thousands of Indian techies, builders, and engineers to ease Russia’s labor crunch. In return, Sergey Lavrov promised India a seat at the table in developing the Russian Far East and Arctic shelves, and pledged to snap up larger volumes of Indian pharmaceuticals, farm goods, and textiles to narrow the bilateral trade gap.
If you’re keeping score at home, that’s the exact opposite of what the White House wanted to hear. Donald Trump had already warned New Delhi: “Buy Russian crude and your tariff rate jumps from 25 % to 50 %.” Above 36 %, most economists treat two countries as having, for all practical purposes, broken commercial ties. In plain English: economic divorce.
So when Jaishankar’s plane lifted off for Moscow, the subtext was unmistakable: the U.S.–India love affair is souring fast.
A Relationship That Went from Bollywood to Roller-Coaster
Rewind two years. On June 22, 2023, Prime Minister Narendra “Modi” Modi arrived in Washington to a reception rivaling any Oscar night. Addressing a joint session of Congress—the same privilege accorded only to Israel’s Benjamin Netanyahu—he was interrupted by 15 standing ovations and 79 seated bursts of applause. Modi beamed, calling the honor “a tribute to 1.4 billion Indians.”
Washington’s price tag for the spectacle was four words: the Indo-Pacific strategy. The idea was simple: flatter India into becoming the frontline bruiser against China’s western flank. If Washington could bait two 1.4-billion-person giants into slugging it out, America could sit back and watch.
But the plan always had a Nigerian-email-scam vibe to it. According to the FBI, U.S. consumers lost $10.2 billion to online fraud in 2022, much of it traceable to call centers in India. When it comes to the long con, Delhi gives Lagos a run for its money. India’s calculus was classic: make enough noise to keep the Americans smiling, then demand factories, technology transfers, and tariff exemptions. Washington pretended to believe; New Delhi pretended to obey.
In April, Vice President J.D. Vance—branded in the Indian press as “America’s Indian son-in-law”—toured Delhi. Modi, suddenly generous, presented Vance’s children with souvenir peacock feathers. Weeks later, India launched airstrikes against Pakistan and boasted of an easy victory. On May 7, reality intruded: the Indian Air Force lost five jets in a single dogfight, exposing hardware and doctrine that looked alarmingly second-tier.
Washington’s mask slipped overnight. Modi’s plea for zero-tariff access to the U.S. market was answered with a blunt 25 % levy. Invitations to the G7 summit, once as reliable as monsoon season, dried up. When Delhi finally begged its way into the group photo, Trump ducked out early to meet—of all people—Pakistan’s army chief, General Asim Munir, over dinner. Two weeks ago, Munir was back in Florida, this time reviewing the change-of-command ceremony at U.S. Central Command. Two visits in two months; Delhi’s humiliation was complete.
India’s response was swift and theatrical. Modi declared he would “stand like a wall” against any U.S. trade deal that threatened Indian farmers, fishermen, and shepherds. The same farmers, by the way, whose year-long siege of Delhi in 2021 he had tried to crush with three now-repealed farm laws. Nationalism makes convenient amnesia.
With Washington slamming doors, Modi turned to the one capital still glad to pick up the phone: Moscow. The two countries have history—Soviet armor helped India win the 1971 war, and Russian reactors still light up Indian homes. But the timing is also about fresh desperation on both sides.
Putin has just laid out four non-negotiables to Trump in Alaska: total Ukrainian withdrawal from Donbas, a frozen front in Zaporizhzhia and Kherson, Kyiv’s permanent neutrality, and no Western boots on Ukrainian soil. Trump left the meeting empty-handed, and within hours European leaders pledged what amounts to a trillion-dollar dowry—zero-tariff entry for U.S. industrial goods, $100 billion for American weapons to Ukraine, $750 billion in U.S. energy purchases, $400 billion in U.S. semiconductors, and $600 billion in strategic investments—to keep Washington from cutting a deal with Moscow.
Faced with that kind of cash, Trump’s incentive to appease Putin evaporated. And since Russia sees little chance of a U.S. détente, it, too, needs new partners. Enter India, stage left.
The Third Chair at the Table
But two players are not enough to counterbalance the United States. That’s why, during the Moscow talks, Lavrov floated a bigger idea: convene a Russia-India-China trilateral—RIC, the original 1990s acronym now dusted off for a new century.
Think about the irony. For a decade Washington nurtured the Quad—U.S., Japan, India, Australia—to encircle Beijing. Today, under pressure from Trump’s tariffs and Europe’s checkbook diplomacy, India and Russia are courting China for a counter-Quad aimed straight at Washington.
In just three months, the Indo-Pacific strategy has flipped 180 degrees. The alliance designed to contain China risks birthing its opposite: a Eurasian bloc that stretches from the Arctic to the Indian Ocean.
Call it luck, call it karma—history just executed a pirouette no screenwriter would dare pitch.
评论
发表评论