How Trump Is Remaking the World

Brahma Chellaney, OPEN magazine

When Donald Trump returned to the White House, many foreign governments assumed his second term would simply mirror the first—more noise, more tariffs, more brash moves, but no fundamental break. They misjudged him. In its first year itself, Trump’s second presidency has redefined the norms, institutions and expectations that have governed international politics since the end of the Cold War.

What once looked like impulsive theatre has hardened into a governing philosophy. Unpredictability is no longer a quirk of Trump’s personality; it is a strategic tool he deploys openly. Norm violations are no longer tactical deviations; they have become a defining feature of American policy.

The result is a more transactional, coercive and personalized global order. In this order, power is asserted directly, institutions are circumvented or stripped of authority, and stability is offered only in exchange for submission.

More fundamentally, Trump is not simply eroding the international order. He is attempting to construct an alternative in its place.

From disruption to doctrine

During Trump’s first term, allies and adversaries alike learned to discount much of what he said. Tweets contradicted policy. Threats were issued and withdrawn. In his second term, however, the pattern has changed. Disruption itself has become US doctrine. His administration now treats uncertainty not as a risk to be managed, but as leverage to be exploited.

This shift is visible across domains. Trade policy is no longer governed primarily by economic logic but wielded as an instrument of political coercion. Diplomacy is no longer mediated through institutions but centralized in the president himself—his whims and fancies, and his efforts to expand an already-sprawling personal business empire. Military power is no longer restrained by concerns of legitimacy but openly deployed to assert control over other states’ resources and territory. Soft power—the quiet, accumulative influence of norms, culture and credibility—has been dismissed as weakness.

The pattern is unmistakable. Trump no longer seeks to lead the international system; he seeks to dominate it, transaction by transaction, deal by deal.

Nowhere is this shift clearer than in trade. By weaponizing tariffs, Trump has ushered in an era of what Western executives now call “tariff roulette.”

Tariffs have been moved from the margins of economic policy to the centre of American statecraft. On April 2, 2025—branded by the White House as “Liberation Day”—he invoked America’s International Emergency Economic Powers Act to impose a universal 10% tariff on all imports. This was not a negotiating tactic aimed at reforming rules; it was a unilateral assertion of power.

Targeted tariffs have gone even further. These measures are not calibrated responses to unfair trade practices but punitive tools meant to force capitulation. Worse still, they are unpredictable. Announcements are frequently made with little warning, often through social media, leaving governments and firms scrambling to respond.

Months after concluding a trade agreement with South Korea, Trump abruptly raised US tariffs on South Korean goods from 15% to 25%. His tariffs on India now exceed even those imposed on China, America’s principal strategic rival. Agreements offer no insulation; strategic partnerships provide no security.

The economic effects are already evident in the US. Business confidence has been shaken by the inability to plan investment or supply chains amid sudden policy reversals. Inflationary pressures have intensified, with US personal consumption expenditures projected to rise by more than three per cent. Confronted with policy-driven volatility, the Federal Reserve has kept interest rates on hold to avoid amplifying uncertainty.

The deeper damage, however, is systemic. The global trading system depends less on low tariffs than on credible commitments. Trump has shattered the expectation that the US will adhere to predictable, norms-based processes. In its place, he has delivered a stark message: stability is available only through direct, bilateral concessions to Washington. Multilateral rules no longer protect; they merely delay punishment.

Rules give way to raw power

If weaponized trade represents the economic pillar of Trump’s new order, the creation of the “Board for Peace” is its institutional centrepiece. Launched at the World Economic Forum in Davos in January, the Board is presented as a bold alternative to what Trump calls the United Nations’ “permanent failure” to resolve modern conflicts.

The contrast could not be sharper. The UN, for all its flaws, derives legitimacy from process: universal membership, formal rules and a (sometimes paralyzing) commitment to sovereignty and law. The Board for Peace rejects this model entirely. Membership is selective, reportedly contingent on substantial financial contributions. Decision-making authority is centralized. Trump himself holds absolute veto power over its agenda, decisions and membership—and even the designation of his successor. In other words, the Board is effectively a one-man show.

What is being set up is privatized global governance. Conflict resolution becomes a pay-to-play enterprise, overseen by personal authority. Trump has said the Board will “work with” the UN. Yet he has also openly suggested that it could replace it. In practice, the Board is already a mechanism to bypass international law rather than enforce it.

Actions speak louder than words.When Trump arbitrarily rescinded Canada’s invitation to join the Board soon after its launch, he revealed its true nature: not a forum governed by rules, but a court governed by favour. The message to the world is that peace is no longer a collective good. It is a commodity, dispensed at the discretion of Washington.

Another dramatic shift in Trump’s second term has occurred in the Western Hemisphere. Long portrayed as an isolationist, Trump has in fact embraced a form of aggressive expansionism. The US is no longer merely asserting influence in the Americas; it is asserting ownership.

On January 3, American forces abducted Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro by carrying out the first bombing of a South American capital in modern history. Trump subsequently declared that the US would “run the country and take its oil.” The statement was not a gaffe. It was a declaration of intent that is now being implemented. Proceeds from selling stolen oil are being deposited in a US bank account in Qatar, to be spent without US congressional approval. Venezuelan oil worth $500 million has already been sold, according to the White House.

The military action against Venezuela followed America’s large-scale naval deployments in the Caribbean, its unilateral renaming of the Gulf of Mexico as the “Gulf of America,” and renewed discussions about annexing Greenland and reasserting direct control over the Panama Canal. These moves reflect a coherent worldview of the Trump administration: North and South Americas constitute a privileged zone of US control.

Trump has revived the Monroe Doctrine not as a warning to external powers, but as a license for military intervention or political interference in other nations’ domestic affairs. Sovereignty, in this framework, belongs not to states but to those strong enough to enforce it. The language of partnership has been replaced by the language of possession.

As hard power has been elevated, US soft power has been systematically dismantled. Funding for USAID has been slashed. Voice of America has been effectively shuttered. Cultural diplomacy has withered.

Soft power does not coerce, but it shapes preferences. It reduces the cost of leadership by making influence appear legitimate. The Trump administration, however, does not regard soft power as an asset.

The US withdrawal from the World Health Organization in January is emblematic. For decades, global health was one domain in which US leadership was uncontested. That leadership is now gone, surrendered not after debate, but by presidential decree.

America’s relations with Europe have also deteriorated sharply. The 2025 US National Security Strategy describes Europe as a victim of “civilizational erasure” and calls for alignment with “patriotic” movements there rather than mainstream governments. Such ideological interference signals that, even in the Western bloc, shared values no longer bind. What matters is ideological affinity and transactional utility.

A world remade

Taken together, these shifts amount to more than a change in tone. They represent a transformation in how power is exercised and justified. Trump’s second term has accelerated the erosion of an international system built on norms, institutions and predictability. In fact, he has stepped up efforts to replace it with one organized around coercion, personal authority and short-term gain.

In effect, Trump has not merely taken the world by storm; he is reshaping the environment in which global politics operates. And unlike the social-media posts that signal these changes, the consequences of his reshaping of international relations will endure.

It is against this backdrop that Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney became the star at this year’s World Economic Forum at Davos with his remarkable candour in exposing longstanding Western hypocrisy and describing what a Trump-reshaped world meant.

Delivering a prepared speech, Carney declared, “We knew the story of the international rules-based order was partially false. That the strongest would exempt themselves when convenient. That trade rules were enforced asymmetrically. And we knew that international law applied with varying rigor depending on the identity of the accused or the victim. This fiction was useful. And American hegemony, in particular, helped provide public goods: open sea lanes, a stable financial system, collective security and support for frameworks for resolving disputes. So, we placed the sign in the window. We participated in the rituals. And we largely avoided calling out the gaps between rhetoric and reality. This bargain no longer works. Let me be direct: We are in the midst of a rupture, not a transition.”

The plain fact is that the new, Trump-driven order is not stable. It invites emulation by other strongmen. It encourages pre-emptive defiance by smaller states. It fragments global cooperation into spheres of influence governed by fear rather than trust. Yet it is coherent. And that coherence is precisely what makes it dangerous.

The most consequential legacy of Trump’s second term may not be the policies he enacts, but the precedents he sets. Even if a future US administration seeks to restore the old order, it will confront a world that has already adapted to its absence. Once credibility is lost, it cannot simply be reclaimed by presidential proclamation.

India as the pivotal swing state

No country is more exposed to—or more consequential for—the world Trump is remaking than India. As the world’s largest democracy, its fastest-growing major economy, and a central node in Indo-Pacific strategy, India now finds itself cast not as a partner in a US-led order, but as a swing state in a coercive, transactional system.

Trump’s second term presents India with a paradox. On one hand, Washington sees New Delhi as indispensable to balancing China. On the other, it treats India less as a strategic partner than as a negotiable asset—subject to tariffs, pressures and episodic favours. The result is a relationship marked by simultaneous courtship and coercion.

Trade policy illustrates the dilemma starkly. India has sought deeper economic integration with the US but instead it has faced some of the steepest tariffs imposed by the Trump administration—higher even than those levied on China. Market access is dangled not through long-term accords, but through ad hoc bargaining. Stability in the bilateral relationship is conditional.

Strategically, India is being pulled into a vision of order that sits uneasily with its own traditions. Trump’s disdain for multilateral institutions and his open embrace of unilateral force clash with India’s longstanding emphasis on strategic autonomy and international law. The creation of new international bodies such as the “Board for Peace,” governed by personal veto rather than collective legitimacy, places India in an awkward position: participation may offer influence, but at the cost of endorsing a precedent that weakens the very norms India has relied upon as a post-colonial power.

There is also a deeper reputational risk. As Trump reframes global politics as a contest among civilizational strongmen, democracies are valued less for their institutions than for their utility. India is courted not as a democracy, but as a counterweight. This instrumentalization erodes the moral capital that once distinguished democratic alignment from mere alliance.

Trump’s second term is also reshaping the triangular dynamic among China, India and the US—a strategic triangle that is central to Indian interests. Washington now frames its India policy almost exclusively through the prism of countering Beijing, while simultaneously undermining the norms and institutions that once sought to constrain Chinese power. The contradiction is stark: the US asks India to assist American strategy in Asia even as it legitimizes unilateral pressures on New Delhi to compel shifts in trade, energy and strategic policies.

For China, Trump’s unilateralism is an opportunity to step up its own coercive and expansionist policies, especially against its neighbours, including India. It is also an opportunity for China to quietly expand its influence in institutions the US has vacated.

For India, the triangle is more perilous. It faces sustained pressures from China along the Himalayas and via surrogate Pakistan, yet it is being asked by Washington to align with an American strategy that normalizes spheres of influence and transactional dominance. In such a world, today’s partner can become tomorrow’s pressure point.

The erosion of a norms-based order challenges all middle powers like India that rely on predictability to balance asymmetry. As China’s immediate neighbour, India’s challenge is also to navigate this triangle without becoming locked into a logic where raw power becomes the only currency that matters.

India is not without agency. Precisely because Trump’s world is transactional, India’s choices carry outsized weight. Accommodation would signal that even the world’s largest democracy and most-populous country sees no alternative to coercive bilateralism. Resistance—through diversification of partnerships, renewed investment in multilateral forums, and strategic patience—would suggest that the erosion of the old order is not yet complete.

More broadly, Trump has made one reality unmistakably clear: the post-World War II international order is no longer being quietly eroded; it is being openly displaced. Norms are giving way to deals. Institutions are yielding to personalities. Predictability is being replaced by leverage. This is a structural shift, which could gain permanence.

In this emerging order, the world’s future direction will not be determined solely by Washington or Beijing. It will also be shaped by the choices of key states that still retain strategic autonomy. Among them, none matters more than India.

India’s response to Trump’s world will signal whether the country that is home to 18% of the global population believes that power without restraint is inevitable—or whether it still sees value in preserving norms that protect the weak from the strong. Alignment driven purely by fear or expediency would accelerate the very transformation that leaves all democracies more vulnerable. Strategic patience, diversification and selective resistance are likely to slow it.

Whether the 21st century tilts decisively toward coercion or retains space for constraint and norms may well depend on middle powers like India. India is no longer merely rising. It is deciding—by its economic and strategic partnerships and policy choices alike—what kind of world will rise with it.

Brahma Chellaney is a geostrategist and the author of two award-winning books.

New Delhi should recognize the reality, be flexible and think strategically

Brahma Chellaney

Nikkei Asia

India has long prided itself on charting an independent course in world affairs — cultivating friendships without dependence and partnerships without formal alliances. For years, that posture seemed not only principled but effective.

A nonaligned India enjoyed unusually warm ties across rival power centers. Some American strategists even described India as the ultimate “swing state” in an emerging multipolar order, capable of tilting the global balance through its choices.

Yet 2025 will be remembered as the year that exposed the fragility of these assumptions. A succession of external shocks revealed structural weaknesses in Indian foreign policy and forced New Delhi into increasingly uncomfortable strategic corners. The cumulative effect was not a single diplomatic failure but a broader loss of strategic room for maneuver.

The most jarring shock came from Washington. Under President Donald Trump’s second-term administration, U.S. policy toward a rising India turned overtly punitive. The imposition of 50% tariffs on Indian exports was more than a trade dispute; it was a political signal that the world’s largest democracy was now viewed less as a strategic partner and more as an economic rival to be squeezed.

This shift was underscored by the newly released U.S. National Security Strategy, which — unlike its 2017 predecessor — barely mentions India or the Quad and frames the relationship in narrowly transactional terms of “improving commercial relations.”

More galling for New Delhi was the document’s claim that Washington had “mediated” the May 2025 India-Pakistan ceasefire — an assertion India has vehemently rejected. For a country that has invested years in projecting itself as a net security provider and responsible regional power, the implication that it required American mediation was diplomatically humiliating.

The chill in ties was also visible at the personal level. Prime Minister Narendra Modi skipped the United Nations General Assembly and ASEAN summits, reportedly to avoid an awkward encounter with Trump, symbolizing how thoroughly the bonhomie between the two had evaporated. While the Trump administration has shown similar brusqueness toward America’s traditional allies, from Germany to Japan, the sting was sharper for India, which had grown accustomed to steadily deepening strategic ties with Washington.

If relations with the U.S. froze, India’s immediate neighborhood grew markedly colder.

For decades, New Delhi assumed that its surrounding region, though perpetually turbulent, could be managed through sustained engagement and economic outreach. In 2025, that assumption collapsed.

The most dramatic blow came with the announcement of a Saudi-Pakistan Strategic Mutual Defense Pact declaring that “aggression against one is aggression against both.” For over a decade, Modi had invested heavily in cultivating Saudi Arabia as a strategic partner. The pact revealed the limits of that courtship and underscored Riyadh’s enduring security affinity with Islamabad.

At the same time, India’s own retaliatory military response to the Pahalgam terror attack ended in a ceasefire after merely three days, just as Indian forces appeared to have gained the upper hand. The abrupt halt highlighted how India’s escalation dominance is now constrained by shifting great-power calculations, narrowing its options in a crisis.

The sense of encirclement was compounded by its lingering border tensions with China, political turbulence in Nepal and Bangladesh’s slide into Islamist chaos. Rather than projecting confidence as a regional stabilizer, India in 2025 often appeared reactive, struggling to keep pace with fast-moving developments in its own backyard.

Adding to these pressures was the reemergence of a familiar and uncomfortable pattern: the U.S.-Pakistan security relationship. After two decades of Indian diplomatic efforts to isolate Pakistan internationally over its nexus with terrorist groups, New Delhi watched as Trump hosted Pakistan’s army chief and revived a transactional partnership with Islamabad — highlighted by the Trump family’s lucrative cryptocurrency deal.

Perhaps most troubling was not any single diplomatic setback, but the muted domestic response to this cascade of reverses. A year marked by serious foreign-policy shocks generated surprisingly little introspection within India’s strategic community or political class.

Indian President Droupadi Murmu walks with Russian President Vladimir Putin in New Delhi on Dec. 5.   © Reuters

Part of the explanation lay in New Delhi’s tendency to reframe setbacks as strategy. India’s renewed outreach to Russia and tentative engagement with its principal rival, China, were presented as evidence of successful “multi-alignment.” In reality, the effort to mend fences with China was less a strategic choice than a compelled response to Western pressure. The rhetoric of strategic autonomy thus obscured a year in which India exercised less agency, not more.

A measure of hubris compounded the problem. Growing instability in India’s neighborhood exposed an inflated sense of New Delhi’s ability to shape political outcomes beyond its borders. Influence was assumed to be enduring when, in fact, it proved fragile.

If 2025 was the year of shocks, 2026 will be the year of hard decisions. India can no longer afford reactive diplomacy cloaked in reassuring slogans.

The relationship with the U.S., despite its deterioration, remains vital to India’s interests. A limited trade deal is likely, even as Indian officials insist they will not negotiate “with a gun to our head.” In reality, New Delhi already finds itself doing precisely that.

The danger is that U.S. economic coercion will extract significant concessions from India without delivering genuine strategic reassurance in return. India has now opened up its commercial nuclear power sector to private companies, including from abroad, and raised foreign direct investment in the insurance sector to 100% from 74%.

The era of lofty talk about U.S.-Indian strategic convergence has given way to cold commercial bargaining, a reality India must confront with clear-eyed pragmatism rather than wounded indignation.

India’s assumption of the BRICS presidency in 2026 will further test its diplomatic agility. Leading a grouping increasingly viewed by the Trump team as hostile will require high-wire diplomacy. New Delhi will seek to champion the Global South without endorsing the overtly anti-Western rhetoric of fellow-members China and Russia — a balance that will be difficult to sustain amid intensifying great-power rivalry.

The strategic landscape facing India has shifted decisively. The world has changed faster than India’s foreign-policy machinery has adapted.

The 2025 shocks serve as a warning to India that, in 2026, it should abandon complacency, question its own assumptions, and return to the principles that once underpinned its diplomatic success: realism over rhetoric, flexibility over dogma, and strategy grounded in hard choices rather than comforting narratives.

Brahma Chellaney, a professor of strategic studies at the independent New Delhi-based Centre for Policy Research and fellow at the Robert Bosch Academy in Berlin, is the author of nine books, including “Water: Asia’s New Battleground,” which won the Bernard Schwartz Book Award.

By Brahma Chellaney, The Hill

The Quad — the U.S., Japan, India and Australia — was conceived as a strategic coalition to uphold a “free and open Indo-Pacific,” a concept articulated by the late Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe in 2016 and later elevated to a centerpiece of U.S. strategy. At stake was nothing less than preserving a rules-based order in the world’s most consequential region, which will shape the next global order.

Yet today, at the very moment when China’s coercive power is expanding, the Quad is sliding toward strategic irrelevance — undermined less by external pressure than by Washington’s own drift.

The irony is striking. It was President Trump who, in his first term, revived the Quad after a decade of dormancy and embedded it firmly in U.S. strategy. He replaced the Obama administration’s largely symbolic “pivot to Asia” with a hard-edged “free and open Indo-Pacific” framework, while decisively overturning four decades of U.S. policy toward Beijing by reclassifying China from partner to strategic rival. The Quad emerged as a central pillar of that shift.

Trump’s second term initially appeared to reinforce this trajectory. Secretary of State Marco Rubio, on his first day in office, held a Quad foreign ministers’ meeting.

Successive administrations have acknowledged the reality that the Indo-Pacific is now the world’s economic and geopolitical center of gravity, and China — not Russia — poses the defining long-term challenge to U.S. power.  

Barack Obama announced a pivot to Asia in 2011 but failed to resource it adequately. Trump’s first term supplied strategic clarity. Joe Biden preserved the Trump-era framework, keeping the Quad intact and openly identifying China as America’s principal challenger. Yet Biden’s deep entanglement in the Ukraine and Middle East conflicts consumed attention, resources and political capital, leaving little room for a genuine Indo-Pacific pivot.

Trump returned to office pledging to resolve these conflicts and free up American bandwidth for the Indo-Pacific. But now the gap between rhetoric and policy has become glaring. His attempt to end the Ukraine war has stalled amid resistance from both Kyiv and Moscow, delaying any meaningful reallocation of U.S. military resources.

More damaging still, Trump has subordinated long-term strategy to short-term economic extraction, wielding tariffs and trade coercion as blunt instruments — even against allies critical to Indo-Pacific power equilibrium.

This approach is actively hollowing out the Quad. India today faces higher U.S. tariffs than China — an extraordinary outcome for a country Washington routinely describes as a key counterweight to the communist behemoth.

Japan, meanwhile, has been pressured into committing $550 billion in U.S. investments under terms that allow Washington to dictate how the funds are deployed and to claim the lion’s share of profits from the Japanese-financed projects. As Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick conceded, Tokyo may have to strain its own balance sheet simply to comply.

Treating allies as revenue sources may generate short-term gains, but it corrodes trust and undermines collective strategy.

That self-inflicted damage is especially puzzling because stronger ties with India and Japan are not optional but indispensable. Strategically located on China’s opposite flanks, Japan and India represent Beijing’s most consequential regional counterweights.

Trump understood this in his first term, according India pride of place in U.S. Indo-Pacific strategy as the only Asian power with the demographic weight, geographic position, military capability and geopolitical heft to help balance China over the long run. That imperative has only grown with the consolidation of the China-Russia partnership.

Yet Trump’s second-term policies have instead alienated New Delhi. India was slated to host the Quad leaders’ summit in 2025. That prospect collapsed under the weight of Washington’s punitive trade measures. The result is a Quad that is adrift and increasingly marginal to U.S. strategy.

The warning signs are unmistakable. The Quad merits just a single, passing mention in the newly released U.S. National Security Strategy — buried in a brief reference to India. For a grouping once advertised as a cornerstone of the Indo-Pacific strategy, this near-expurgation is telling.

The Quad was never meant to be a talk shop or a disposable bargaining chip in U.S.-China relations. Its core purpose has always been to serve as a strategic bulwark against Chinese expansionism and to uphold a stable Indo-Pacific balance of power.

Allowing it to wither through neglect and allies’ alienation risks vindicating Beijing’s long-standing contempt. When the Quad was first established, China’s foreign minister dismissed it as a fleeting, “headline-grabbing idea” that would dissipate like sea foam. Washington’s current trajectory threatens to prove him right.

It is not too late to avert that outcome. But doing so will require Washington to align economic policy with geopolitical priorities, treat allies as partners rather than profit centers, and restore the Quad to the center of its Indo-Pacific vision. Without such a course correction, the Quad’s existential crisis will deepen, eroding America’s own capacity to sustain a favorable balance of power in the defining region of the 21st century.

Brahma Chellaney is the author of nine books, including the award-winning “Water: Asia’s New Battleground.”

Russian President Vladimir Putin’s visit to New Delhi should be a wake-up call for the United States: attempting to coerce India into actions that compromise its national interest is a recipe for estrangement. Given that India remains crucial to balance China’s aggressive rise, such an outcome would carry high costs for the US.

Brahma Chellaney, Project Syndicate

At a time when US policy toward India has become distinctly punitive, Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s warm reception of Russian President Vladimir Putin in New Delhi last week could not have been more pointed. Modi’s message was clear: India is a sovereign power that will not be dragooned into choosing sides in a widening rift between “the West and the rest.” Instead, it will continue to chart its own course in international affairs.

No major power is more vital to America’s long-term strategic interests than India. It is, after all, the only country with the population size, geographical position, and military might (including nuclear weapons) necessary to challenge China’s efforts to dominate Asia and ultimately supplant the United States as a global hegemon.

Ever since George W. Bush’s presidency, senior US officials have recognized the partnership with India as crucial to maintaining a stable balance of power in the Indo-Pacific. This has never been mere rhetoric: over the last decade, US-India security ties have deepened rapidly, particularly in terms of military interoperability, intelligence cooperation, and technology exchanges.

Part of this progress occurred during US President Donald Trump’s first administration. As he ramped up pressure on China and cut security aid to Pakistan, Trump expanded cooperation with India, which stood at the center of his administration’s Indo-Pacific strategy. The result is evident today: India now conducts more military exercises with the US than with any other country, and the US has emerged as India’s largest trading partner.

But even as this process unfolded, the US gave India plenty of reason to be wary. Its chaotic withdrawal from Afghanistan – which took place under President Joe Biden, but resulted from a deal cut earlier by Trump – raised serious doubts about the judgment and reliability of America’s leaders, as it effectively handed that country back to Taliban terrorists.

Concerns heightened in 2022, when the Biden administration helped Pakistan secure an International Monetary Fund bailout and then approved a $450 million deal to modernize the country’s US-supplied F-16 fleet, reviving in India bitter memories of America’s arming of Pakistan during the Cold War. Trump has intensified this embrace of Pakistan, not least in the interest of personal enrichment – highlighted by a lucrative cryptocurrency deal signed in April.

Although the US often disregarded India’s own interests, it nonetheless expected total loyalty when it came to enforcing sanctions on Russia over its full-scale invasion of Ukraine. But India – like other US allies such as Israel and Turkey – refused to comply, instead increasing purchases of discounted Russian oil. India saw no reason to sacrifice its national interests for a distant conflict, especially when the chief beneficiary of Western pressure on Russia was China.

India has seen this dynamic unfold before. When Trump reimposed harsh sanctions on Iran in 2019, India was deprived of one of its cheapest and most reliable energy sources, while China seized the opportunity to import Iranian crude at steep discounts and expand its security footprint there.

A similar pattern emerged after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. By isolating Russia from Western markets, sanctions effectively turned China into Russia’s economic lifeline, giving it leverage to strengthen its overland energy-supply routes from Russia. China now knows that, even if it moves against Taiwan, it will not lose access to Russian energy. While this trend undoubtedly undermines India’s strategic interests, at least this time India also took advantage of discounts on Russian oil.

The Trump administration, however, was not having it. It imposed an extra 25% tariff on US imports from India – raising total duties to 50% – and threatened secondary sanctions, claiming that India was undermining US efforts to counter “Russia’s harmful activities.” Yet Trump spared other major importers of Russian energy and even granted a sanctions exemption to Hungary, whose autocratic prime minister, Viktor Orbán, is a close Trump ally. US tariffs on Indian goods now exceed those applied to Chinese exports. This is nothing short of a US economic war on India.

The US calls India indispensable, but treats its interests as peripheral. It wants India to serve as a pillar of America’s Indo-Pacific strategy, but adopts policies that directly undercut India’s economic strength, regional security, and strategic autonomy. Trump’s foreign policy may be particularly erratic but the underlying pattern has spanned multiple administrations. The result is an increasingly embittered and mistrustful India that sees no choice but to hedge its bets by accelerating self-reliance and strengthening ties with alternative partners, beginning with Russia.

Putin’s visit to New Delhi should serve as a wake-up call for the US: coercion and inconsistency are a sure path to estrangement. A flexible, interest-driven “soft alliance” with India remains one of America’s few credible means of balancing China’s aggressive rise. In this sense, the US needs India more than India needs the US. Instead of trying to force India to “fall in line,” the US must rebuild the relationship by treating India as an equal partner. This means engaging with India as it is, not as American policymakers want it to be.

Brahma Chellaney, Professor of Strategic Studies at the New Delhi-based Center for Policy Research and Fellow at the Robert Bosch Academy in Berlin, is the author of nine books, including Water: Asia’s New Battleground (Georgetown University Press, 2011), for which he won the 2012 Asia Society Bernard Schwartz Book Award.

© Project Syndicate, 2025.

The U.S. increasingly views China, not Russia, as this century’s defining challenge

Brahma Chellaney, Nikkei Asia

U.S. President Donald Trump’s administration has mounted a renewed push to end the war in Ukraine — this time with greater preparation, clearer resolve and a heightened sense of urgency. By exploiting the winter lull in major ground offensives, it aims to force negotiated compromises and lock in a deal before the conflict enters its fifth year in February.

Part of the push reflects Trump’s vanity project as a self-styled global peacemaker. Addressing the United Nations in September, he boasted, “Everyone says that I should get a Nobel Peace Prize.”

But the deeper driver is strategic: a calculation that America’s long-term interests are better served by closing out a proxy war with Russia that no longer sits at the center of U.S. priorities. Trump’s Alaska summit with Russian President Vladimir Putin was the first sign of an emerging strategic recalibration in U.S. policy.

With U.S. policymakers increasingly focused on countering an ascendant China, the administration sees Russia as a declining economic power whose war in Ukraine has become a costly distraction for Washington, siphoning American attention and resources away from the far more consequential contest with Beijing. Ending the war on terms that stabilize Europe and strengthen America’s economic position is therefore a central objective.

This objective has led to dual-track pressure — compelling Kyiv to negotiate while forcing Moscow to bankroll both U.S.-led reconstruction of Ukraine and broader joint ventures. The result is a peace framework designed not only to stop a grinding war, but to make the postwar landscape financially rewarding for Washington.

Presently, America’s preoccupation with Ukraine hands China a strategic dividend: it dilutes U.S. deterrence in Asia, complicates alliance coordination and stretches a finite U.S. military-industrial capacity. Washington is already struggling to refill its own weapons stockpiles even as it arms both Ukraine and Israel.

Meanwhile, the brutal arithmetic of the battlefield is becoming impossible to gloss over. Ukraine’s manpower crunch in the military is deepening, its air defenses are fraying, it is still losing ground, and Western production lines cannot match Russia’s surging output. As a senior U.S. official has warned, Russia is now producing missiles faster than it can fire them — creating a rapidly expanding arsenal of long-range weapons that could, at some point, deliver a knockout blow to Ukraine.

For the U.S., whose defense resources are already overstretched, continuing to underwrite Ukraine’s war effort risks compromising its ability to counter China — a far larger, more capable and more ideologically driven challenger than Russia. A protracted war in Ukraine will erode America’s capacity to surge forces and sustain a high-intensity fight in the western Pacific, or even credibly signal to Beijing that it is fully prepared to defend Taiwan.

The implication is clear: a settlement needs to be reached soon, before the war’s trajectory tilts decisively against an already-bleeding Ukraine.

Critics of Trump’s peace push should heed the warning from Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky’s former spokesperson, Iuliia Mendel: “Every subsequent deal for Ukraine will only be worse — because we are losing.” It bears recalling that Ukraine and Russia nearly reached a settlement in Istanbul in April 2022 — a deal far more favorable to Kyiv than anything remotely attainable today. Yet, as U.S. Vice President JD Vance has noted, “There is a fantasy that if we just give more money, more weapons, or more sanctions, victory is at hand.”

America has seen this movie before. It spent 20 years waging war against the Taliban — and lost — because it refused to make difficult compromises when it still had leverage. The eventual withdrawal from Afghanistan was not only belated but humiliating.

Those now deriding efforts to end the Ukraine war should answer a simple question: What realistic alternative do they propose that Moscow could conceivably accept? If they cannot articulate one, then their objections amount to little more than wishful thinking dressed up as resolve.

The Trump administration’s peace plan is a hard-nosed attempt to realign Western strategy with long-term geopolitical realities — above all, the need to shift focus to the Indo-Pacific region, the world’s strategic center of gravity. The proposed course may be unsettling, but it reflects a basic truth: The era of limitless American bandwidth is over. And Washington’s underlying calculation is unmistakable — China, not Russia, is the defining challenge of the 21st century.

Whether the plan succeeds, however, depends on factors far beyond Kyiv’s control. Its viability hinges on Moscow’s willingness to accept a settlement at a moment when it holds the battlefield advantage. Putin may well decide that time favors Russia: that pressing the military offensive and intensifying the pressure on Ukraine could extract even larger concessions down the road.

Whatever its eventual fate, the peace plan sends a clear signal to allies and adversaries alike: American strategy is entering a new phase. For Europe, this may feel like an unwelcome jolt of reality. For China, it is a warning that Washington intends to reclaim the initiative in the Indo-Pacific. And for Ukraine, it is a sobering reminder that even the most committed patron ultimately reshapes its commitments to serve its own core interests.

Brahma Chellaney, a professor of strategic studies at the independent New Delhi-based Centre for Policy Research and fellow at the Robert Bosch Academy in Berlin, is the author of nine books, including “Water: Asia’s New Battleground,” which won the Bernard Schwartz Book Award.

Brahma Chellaney, The Globe and Mail

President Donald Trump’s Ukraine peace plan has triggered sharp reactions in Kyiv and across Europe – and the backlash is revealing.

At its core, the plan represents a direct effort to push Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky to the negotiating table and toward concessions he has consistently resisted. But the proposal now taking shape also places significant demands on Moscow – concessions designed to make any peace deal financially lucrative for a commercially minded Trump administration. Beyond enshrining in law a Russian policy of non-aggression toward Europe and Ukraine, the version of the plan put forward by Mr. Trump last week proposed that Russia would allow US$100-billion of its Western-frozen central bank reserves to be funnelled into a U.S.-led reconstruction of Ukraine. Washington would pocket 50 per cent of the profits from that venture. The remaining frozen Russian assets, totalling over US$200-billion, would be shifted into a separate U.S.-Russia investment vehicle tasked with executing joint projects.

More fundamentally, America’s urgency to end the conflict reflects a strategic recalibration: the proxy war with Russia no longer advances core U.S., Canadian or even European interests.

In fact, the grinding war in Europe distracts the U.S. from a far more consequential challenge: an increasingly assertive China determined to displace America as the world’s pre-eminent power. If Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has strained the international order, a Chinese assault on Taiwan could shatter it altogether. And the longer the West continues to pour resources into Ukraine, the greater the risk becomes that Beijing calculates it has a window to throttle Taiwan via coercion, a blockade or a rapid fait accompli.

An America tied down in Europe clearly serves Chinese President Xi Jinping’s globally expansionist ambitions.

Yet Mr. Trump’s predecessor, Joe Biden, shut the door on diplomacy with Moscow and embraced an open-ended pledge to support Kyiv “for as long as it takes.” At the 2023 G7 summit, the U.S., Canada and other member states doubled down by issuing maximalist conditions – including the total, unconditional withdrawal of Russian forces from all Ukrainian territory. That outcome was implausible then, and is today even further removed from reality.

The U.S.-led “hybrid war” strategy – weaponizing sanctions and global financial systems – has not weakened Russia enough to change the battlefield. Russia has dug in and annexed the territory it holds, and continues to make battlefield gains. Ukraine, even with major Western weapons supplies, lacks the capability to defeat its stronger enemy on the battlefield.

Meanwhile, Russian aerial attacks are inflicting ever-greater destruction on Ukraine. Worse still for Kyiv, replenishing exhausted and depleted front-line forces is becoming increasingly difficult as a growing number of draft-eligible men flee to European Union countries to avoid being sent to the trenches.

The war has also exposed troubling Western military weaknesses. Western munitions stockpiles are being depleted much faster than they can be replenished. America’s weapons-manufacturing capacity remains too limited for the demands of long-term great-power competition.

A protracted war, meanwhile, accelerates the deepening partnership between Russia and China. Since 2022, Beijing has become Moscow’s indispensable financial and industrial lifeline, buying up discounted Russian oil and gas, supplying key electronics and components, and helping the Kremlin circumvent sanctions. A de facto Eurasian axis is emerging, with China as its central pillar.

This is the strategic backdrop against which Mr. Trump’s peace proposal should be understood. The plan seeks to compel Kyiv to negotiate not because Ukraine’s cause is unworthy, but because the war’s continuation is increasingly antithetical to Western interests.Video 2:29

Critics claim that a settlement with Moscow would only embolden China’s expansionism. But Mr. Xi does not need lessons in opportunism from Russia. China’s own cost-free expansion – from the South China Sea to the Himalayas – already shows that it advances when it sees little pushback. What would truly embolden Beijing is an overstretched U.S., hollowed-out munitions stockpiles, and a distracted Indo-Pacific strategy.

For the U.S., the path forward is clear. A negotiated settlement is the only realistic way to end the war. A conflict continuing indefinitely serves neither Ukraine’s long-term security nor NATO’s. Ending it would free up Western bandwidth, rebuild critical stockpiles, and allow Washington to shift attention to the Indo-Pacific, the world’s emerging economic and geopolitical hub that will likely shape the new global order.

Mr. Trump’s peace plan accepts the reality that it is in America’s own interest to help bring this war to an end sooner rather than later. A diplomatic settlement would also serve Canadians well by reducing economic burdens, lowering the risk of a wider NATO conflict, and enabling Ottawa to focus on the Indo-Pacific, where Canada’s long-term interests increasingly lie.

Brahma Chellaney is a geostrategist and the author of nine books, including the award-winning Water: Asia’s New Battleground.

Transformed into a tool of geopolitical domination, U.S. trade policy sows the seeds for backlash

Brahma Chellaney, Nikkei Asia

For U.S. President Donald Trump, trade diplomacy has become less about markets and more about American might. By weaponizing tariffs, sanctions and investment rules, he has turned trade policy into a tool of coercive statecraft — one that seeks to realign global power relationships in favor of America’s short-term geopolitical goals.

Trump’s approach treats trade as subservient to geopolitical strategy. Tariffs and threats of economic punishment are deployed as geopolitical levers not only against adversaries such as China and Russia but also against allies like Canada, India, Japan and Mexico. His administration even invoked a national emergency to justify using tariffs as a coercive instrument, underscoring how far the traditional lines between economics and security have blurred under Trump.

During his Tokyo visit late last month, Trump praised Japan’s pledge to buy “a very large amount of U.S. military equipment,” adding that “we very much appreciate the trade.” The remark revealed a profound transformation in international economic relations. Under Trump, bilateral trade agreements no longer revolve around tariffs or market access. They have become political contracts to secure vast foreign investments and military purchases, binding allies into Washington’s orbit and curtailing their policy autonomy.

The scale is striking. Japan has committed $550 billion, South Korea $350 billion and Malaysia $70 billion in U.S. investments, while Southeast Asian partners have agreed to buy American aircraft, weapons and energy products worth tens of billions. The Japan deal even allows Trump to decide how Tokyo’s money is invested and grants Washington 90% of profits once Japan recoups its outlay. As U.S. Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick conceded, Japan would have to “blow up their balance sheet” and borrow money to meet the obligations.

Such arrangements amount to economic vassalage disguised as partnership. Japan bears the debt burden and financial risk while the U.S. captures the profits and dictates deployment of capital according to its strategic priorities, rather than commercial logic. Trade diplomacy under Trump has effectively become an instrument for extracting tribute in the guise of cooperation.

Trade has also turned into a selective punishment tool. India has been singled out for secondary U.S. sanctions over its Russian oil imports, even as the European Union, Japan and Turkey continue major Russian energy purchases. The EU has been given a comfortable transition period until January 2028 to phase out Russian energy — a timeline unlikely to hold if the Ukraine war ends earlier. The inconsistency exposes Trump’s trade coercion as driven by geopolitics, not principle.

Sanctions and tariff threats now serve as levers of intimidation to extract concessions through fear of economic harm. This form of “negotiation” allows Washington to tilt deals decisively in its favor, securing asymmetric outcomes that entrench dependence. The approach underscores a revival and global extension of the 19th-century Monroe Doctrine.

The line between economic diplomacy and interference in other nations’ domestic affairs has also blurred. Trump has linked his 50% tariffs against Brazil since July to the legal proceedings against former far-right President Jair Bolsonaro. And in Argentina, Trump conditioned a $20 billion American aid lifeline — one of the largest to any country since World War II — on the success of President Javier Milei’s party in the recent legislative elections. Trump’s success there can only embolden similar tactics elsewhere.

Recent U.S. trade deals with Cambodia, Malaysia, Thailand and Vietnam signed during Trump’s recent Kuala Lumpur visit illustrate the fusion of commercial and security goals. In exchange for Washington lifting tariff threats, these nations accepted economic and strategic concessions aligned with U.S. interests. The Cambodia deal even included lifting a long-standing arms embargo and resuming joint military drills, marking a full integration of defense and trade policy.

Each of Trump’s trade deals shares the same blueprint: partner nations make concrete economic and strategic commitments, while the U.S. retains both significant tariff barriers and the power to adjust or revoke terms unilaterally. The accords extend well beyond traditional trade matters to encompass investment quotas, defense-procurement obligations, critical-minerals cooperation and compliance with American sanctions and export-control policies. Defense procurement commitments, for example, will deepen technological dependence on U.S. weapons systems, making it ever harder for partners to pursue independent security policies.

For countries heavily reliant on U.S. markets, the choice is stark: accept constrained sovereignty in return for economic access, or resist and face punishment. Worse still, the new agreements lack the legal grounding and bipartisan consensus that once lent durability to American trade pacts. They are politically fragile and inherently imbalanced.

By treating allies less as partners than as instruments of leverage, Trump is corroding the foundations of alliance solidarity. Overtly coercive and transactional trade relationships breed resentment and erode the trust that sustains long-term cooperation. Allies begin to see engagement with Washington not as an expression of shared interests but as participation in a protection racket: pay the tribute or face economic retribution.

The inevitable consequence is blowback. Nations are already hedging against overdependence on the U.S. by diversifying trade and defense ties with other powers. The perception of America as an unreliable and self-serving partner is accelerating the global shift toward multipolarity. Ironically, Trump’s efforts to consolidate U.S. dominance are hastening its erosion.

In many ways, Trump’s model of weaponized trade diplomacy resembles China’s Belt and Road Initiative — only more unabashedly coercive. While Beijing used loans and infrastructure projects to bind partners, Washington now employs tariffs, sanctions and investment dictates. Yet just as China’s debt-trap diplomacy provoked geopolitical backlash, Trump’s heavy-handed economic unilateralism is likely to face mounting resistance.

By overplaying America’s economic might, Trump risks undermining its global leadership. Coercion can yield short-term compliance but it destroys the mutual confidence and reciprocity that sustain long-term influence. The paradox is unmistakable: the more the U.S. weaponizes its economic power, the faster the world will adapt to limit its reach. In the end, America’s own overreach could prove the greatest driver of the multipolar world order Trump seeks to resist.

Brahma Chellaney, a professor of strategic studies at the independent New Delhi-based Centre for Policy Research and fellow at the Robert Bosch Academy in Berlin, is the author of nine books, including “Water: Asia’s New Battleground,” which won the Bernard Schwartz Book Award.

By Brahma Chellaney, The Hill

The U.S. has carried out scores of covert and overt regime-change operations since the last century. Scholarly consensus is clear: such interventions rarely advance U.S. interests and usually produce unintended consequences that recoil on America itself.

Yet President Trump’s administration is engaged in a barely disguised effort to topple President Nicolás Maduro’s regime in Venezuela.

The dissonance between Trump’s rhetoric and policy could not be starker. He has repeatedly denounced decades of U.S. intervention abroad, especially military-backed attempts at regime change and “nation-building.” After his 2016 victory, he declared: “We will stop racing to topple foreign regimes that we know nothing about, that we shouldn’t be involved with.”

But in contrast to this “America First” non-interventionist pose, Trump’s approach to Venezuela has been one of the most sustained U.S. campaigns for regime overthrow in recent memory. His strategy has included crippling sanctions, narcoterrorism indictments against Maduro and his associates, and naval deployments under the fig leaf of an anti-narcotics operation.

In recent weeks, after ordering strikes on Venezuelan boats that killed at least 21 people, Trump dispatched warships, surveillance planes and even an attack submarine — a show of force calculated to weaken and ultimately topple Maduro.

Such adventurism clashes with Trump’s latest bid to crown himself a global peacemaker. At the United Nations, he claimed he had “ended seven un-endable wars” and boasted “everyone” wanted him to win the Nobel Peace Prize. The problem is that some of the seven “wars” never existed, others remain unresolved, and in one case (the Israel-Iran conflict) Trump joined the fight by ordering U.S. bombing of Iranian nuclear sites. In his telling, this was peace by another name.

In 2023, Trump thundered, “Either the Deep State destroys America or we destroy the Deep State.” Yet since returning to the White House, he has often acted as executor of the very Deep State agenda he rails against. His distinction seems to be that the Deep State should confine itself to foreign entanglements while steering clear of domestic politics.

Trump’s Venezuela gambit ignores the long trail of regime-change debacles, from Guatemala and Chile to Afghanistan and Libya. Libya, since the 2011 overthrow of Muammar Qaddafi, remains a a failed state. The roots of Iran’s 1979 Islamic Revolution can be traced to the 1953 CIA-led Operation Ajax, which ousted a democratically elected prime minister and installed the Shah’s dictatorship.

Similarly, U.S. involvement in the 1973 Chilean coup achieved the goal of removing a socialist president but at the cost of propping up Augusto Pinochet’s brutal dictatorship. The coup stained America’s reputation and left scars that still shape Chilean politics.

Even failed regime-change efforts have produced blowback. Violent jihadism in Syria was fueled by a multiyear CIA program — the second largest in its history after the 1980s Afghan campaign — to topple Bashar al-Assad. Launched in 2012 under Barack Obama, the $1 billion project trained and armed anti-Assad rebels, inadvertently boosting jihadist forces and helping spawn the Islamic State. Trump himself shut it down in 2017, acknowledging that U.S.-supplied weapons had ended up in the hands of al-Qaeda, which had emerged from CIA-trained Afghan “mujahideen.” 

The destabilization of Libya, Syria and Iraq fueled a refugee influx into Europe — 1.1 million into Germany alone in 2015. That wave, in turn, stoked radical Islamism across Europe, with terror attacks in Munich, Nice, Brussels and Paris.

Most recently, following Assad’s downfall last December, Trump embraced Syria’s new president — a former jihadist warlord with al-Qaeda roots whose regime has intensified sectarian violence against non-Sunni minorities. When terrorists become American assets, America’s moral authority is collateral damage.

The history of U.S. regime-change operations reveals three recurring outcomes. First, regime replacement usually yields civil war, prolonged insurgency or outright state collapse. Second, interventions more often install authoritarian rule than foster democracy. Third, interference breeds resentment, undermines U.S. credibility as a defender of democracy and galvanizes extremist movements.

Venezuela holds the world’s largest proven oil reserves, which helps explain Trump’s zeal for regime change there. U.S. oil sanctions are designed to choke off Maduro’s main source of revenue and force his ouster. But they have created a severe humanitarian crisis, fueling Latin America’s largest refugee exodus in history and straining Venezuela’s neighbors, especially Colombia and Peru.

Trump has brushed aside both the human suffering and the sobering lessons of past adventures. Oil, not democracy, is the real prize he seeks in Venezuela.

By personalizing foreign policy to the point where major decisions hinge on impulse rather than consultation with national security professionals, Trump has heightened the risk of miscalculation. His Venezuela gambit may yet produce the same blowback that has defined so many regime-change campaigns — leaving the U.S. weaker, not stronger, in Latin America and beyond.

Brahma Chellaney is the author of nine books, including the award-winning “Water: Asia’s New Battleground.”

It takes a special kind of genius to end wars that never started. Trump has achieved what no military general in history ever managed: ending wars that never began. No shots fired, no armies on the march — yet Trump claims three historic triumphs

Brahma Chellaney, Project Syndicate

GENEVA – “Everyone says that I should get a Nobel Peace Prize,” US President Donald Trump told the United Nations General Assembly this week, because “I ended seven un-endable wars in seven months.” The boast was classic Trump: extravagantly formulated, unironically delivered, and patently false.

A recent poll indicates that only 22% of US adults believe that Trump deserves the Nobel Prize – a far cry from “everyone” – with 76% of respondents stating that he does not deserve it. Perhaps this reflects the fact that Trump has not ended seven wars. Arguably, he has not even ended one.

Some of Trump’s claims were pure fiction. For example, he took credit for ending a war between Egypt and Ethiopia. But, although bilateral tensions over the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam have simmered for years, they have never boiled over into war. Likewise, Trump claimed to have ended a nonexistent war between Kosovo and Serbia. Despite considerable hostility – and a history of violent clashes – the two countries have not been at war since the 1990s. No war is easier to end than one that has never started.

Perhaps Trump’s most risible invention was the war – “a bad one” – between Armenia and Cambodia, countries located over 4,000 miles (6,500 kilometers) apart that have never had any conflict whatsoever. Armenia did clash with neighboring Azerbaijan this year, and Trump convinced both countries’ leaders to sign a joint declaration aimed at ending their decades-long conflict. But progress on implementing that agreement has stalled, and the accord is in danger of unraveling. That Trump would consider this conflict “ended” reveals the depth of his ignorance about peacemaking.

The same goes for the war between the Democratic Republic of Congo and Rwanda. Trump does have a set piece to point to: a “wonderful” US-mediated deal. But while the war may have ended on paper, deadly clashes continue.

As for Cambodia, it engaged in skirmishes with its neighbor Thailand in July over their contested border. But Trump’s attempts at economic coercion did little to defuse the crisis. What brought the fighting to an end was the Association of Southeast Asian Nations’ diplomacy, with this year’s ASEAN chair, Malaysian Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim, hosting the Cambodian and Thai leaders for face-to-face talks in Kuala Lumpur. While the underlying border dispute, centered largely on ownership and control of ancient Hindu temples, remains unresolved, the “immediate and unconditional” ceasefire that Anwar brokered halted the violence.

This is not the only example of Trump taking credit for others’ foreign-policy acumen. After Pakistan-backed terrorists massacred Indian tourists in Indian-administered Kashmir in April, India took decisive and carefully calibrated retaliatory action, launching military strikes on Pakistani terror camps. It was this show of force that made Pakistan back down, but Trump would have the world believe that he single-handedly mediated an end to the conflict using his favorite tool: trade threats. So absurd and relentless were his boasts that Indian officials publicly refuted him.

Trump’s most audacious claim, however, was that he ended the war between Israel and Iran. In reality, Trump gave Israel the green light to strike Iranian positions; deployed American military assets to help Israel shoot down Iran’s missiles and drones; and ordered the bombing of Iranian nuclear sites – severely undermining the global nonproliferation regime in the process. If this is Trump’s idea of peacemaking, one dreads to think what his version of warmongering would look like.

Trump’s Nobel Peace Prize campaign has followed a familiar pattern: invent or inflate a problem, claim to have solved it, and then demand a reward. From his photo ops with North Korean leader Kim Jong-un to his Middle East “peace deals” (which merely formalized existing relations between the Gulf states and Israel), Trump engages in theater, not diplomacy – performances staged for headlines and applause. The Norwegian Nobel Committee, one suspects, will not be fooled. The same cannot be said for Trump’s base.

Trump’s absurd claims not only undermine US credibility abroad but also carry real risks. For starters, they trivialize genuine peacemaking. Ending wars is among the most difficult tasks in international politics. It demands quiet diplomacy, painstaking negotiations that address the root causes of conflict, and a commitment to following through on any agreement. Trump has shown little interest in such work. All he cares about is fanfare.

Moreover, false declarations of peace can mask unresolved conflicts and undermine the vigilance needed to prevent new flare-ups, which could ignite with even greater ferocity. Such proclamations can also erode accountability for diplomatic failures – and even for reckless military actions like those Trump sanctioned against Iran.

Trump’s claim to have ended seven “un-endable” wars is best understood as a case study in self-delusion. Branding is not leadership. Real peace depends on leaders who know the difference. But in Trump’s world, peace is not the absence of war, but the presence of applause.

Brahma Chellaney, Professor of Strategic Studies at the New Delhi-based Center for Policy Research and Fellow at the Robert Bosch Academy in Berlin, is the author of nine books, including Water: Asia’s New Battleground (Georgetown University Press, 2011), for which he won the 2012 Asia Society Bernard Schwartz Book Award.

© Project Syndicate, 2025.