Appeasement has never tamed revisionist powers, and it has often emboldened them. Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi learned this the hard way during his first years in power, when China took advantage of his goodwill to alter the Himalayan status quo in its favor, but now he is at risk of falling into the same trap.

Brahma Chellaney, Project Syndicate

In 2020, China’s stealth encroachments into India’s Himalayan borderlands triggered deadly clashes and a prolonged military standoff that nearly erupted into war. Five years on, the border crisis remains largely unresolved, yet Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi is headed to China in an apparent effort to ease friction – just when India is facing punishing tariffs imposed by Donald Trump. But recent history offers a stark warning: trusting China is a dangerous path.

One can certainly understand Modi’s motivations for seeking a diplomatic thaw with China. The US-India relationship, once touted as a bedrock of America’s strategy for ensuring a “free and open Indo-Pacific,” has plunged to its lowest point this century. The decline began during the final years of Joe Biden’s presidency, but accelerated rapidly under Trump, who has now raised tariffs on US imports from India to 50%.

Trump’s actions are as ironic as they are absurd. The US long courted India as a vital counterweight to China across the vast Indo-Pacific region, yet it is India that is now being subjected to sky-high tariffs, while China is enjoying a reprieve. Moreover, Trump claims he is punishing India for buying Russian oil, but India purchases less energy from Russia than China or Europe. Trump’s real objective, it seems, is to strong-arm India into a lopsided trade deal.

Meanwhile, Trump is attempting to woo Russian President Vladimir Putin – to whom he has shown far more respect than Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky – so that Putin not only ends the Ukraine war, but also takes a step back from China. But while Trump recognizes that punishing and isolating Russia drove the country closer to China, creating considerable risks for the US, he is repeating this mistake with India.

Modi, however, should beware of letting Trump push him into China’s arms. In journeying to China at this moment, given the pressure he is under, India’s prime minister will come across less like a confident leader shaping events than a wounded statesman courting his country’s chief security threat. Past experience indicates that China is far more likely to exploit any hint of Indian weaknesses than act as a reliable partner.

Ever since China annexed Tibet in 1951, turning what had previously served as a buffer with India into a Chinese military stronghold, Sino-Indian relations have been marked by rivalry and mistrust. When Modi became prime minister in 2014, he made it his mission to change that. His initial hope of improving the relationship may not have been misguided; but his refusal to change course, even when China relentlessly exploited his goodwill to make quiet territorial advances on the ground, certainly was.

China took few pains to hide its intentions: its troops encroached on an Indian borderland as Modi welcomed Chinese President Xi Jinping to India for the first time. While that initial 2014 summit was portrayed as a success, Chinese forces remained on Indian territory until India dismantled its defensive fortifications there.

The following year, Modi delisted China as a “country of concern,” in order to attract Chinese investment. What India got instead was a flood of cheap Chinese imports. China’s trade surplus with India has grown so large that it now exceeds India’s entire defense budget – the world’s fifth largest. In effect, India is helping to finance China’s military buildup and thus its territorial revisionism.

In 2015-2019 – as China steadily tightened its strategic axis with Pakistan, erected militarized “border villages” along India’s frontier, and expanded its high-altitude military infrastructure – Modi met with Xi 18 times. So committed was Modi to rapprochement that he continued to engage in “appeasement diplomacy,” even after China’s 2017 seizure of the strategic Himalayan plateau of Doklam. It was only after Chinese soldiers quietly surged across multiple frontier points in April 2020 – inexplicably catching India off guard – that Modi suspended his overtures to China.

Five years later, Modi is at risk of falling into the same trap. Modi is traveling to China mainly to attend the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) summit in Tianjin. But the SCO is largely a Chinese initiative, and India – the only established democracy among its ranks – has not treated it as a priority. Last year, Modi skipped its summit in Astana, Kazakhstan’s capital; and in 2023, when India held the rotating chair, he downgraded the summit to a virtual format. Modi’s decision to show up this year was probably more about signaling conciliation toward China than about the SCO.

China has given India no reason to think this time will be different. On the contrary, when India conducted targeted strikes on Pakistani terrorist camps in May – a response to a brutal attack on tourists in the Indian-administered part of Kashmir – China lent Pakistan critical support, including real-time radar and satellite data. Furthermore, China recently confirmed plans to build the world’s largest dam adjacent to India’s border – an undertaking that will have grave ecological and national-security implications for India.

Appeasement has never tamed revisionist powers; more often, it has emboldened them. By allowing China to profit from Indian markets even as it chips away at India’s sovereignty and security, Modi has conveyed that India, despite its tremendous economic and strategic clout, is willing to be treated as a doormat. Only with a hardnosed strategy that meets Chinese coercion with Indian resolve can Modi safeguard India’s interests and territorial integrity.

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.

By Brahma Chellaney, The Hill

The Alaska summit between President Trump and his Russian counterpart, Vladimir Putin, was more than a high-stakes encounter over the Ukraine war. It signaled America’s recognition that its own missteps have helped drive Russia closer to China, fueling a de facto alliance that poses the gravest threat to U.S. global preeminence since the Cold War.

Washington’s miscalculations helped build the China-Russia partnership it now fears most.

In a world where the U.S., China and Russia are the three leading powers, the Alaska summit underscored Trump’s bid to redraw the great-power triangle before it hardens against America.

The president’s Alaska reset seeks to undo a policy that turned two natural rivals into close strategic collaborators, by prioritizing improved U.S.-Russia ties.

Trump’s signaling was unmistakable. In a Fox News interview immediately after the summit, he blasted his predecessor. “He [Biden] did something that was unthinkable,” Trump said. “He drove China and Russia together. That’s not good. If you are just a minor student of history, it’s the one thing you didn’t want to do.”

The remark captured the essence of America’s dilemma. Two powers that are historic rivals — one vast in land and resources, the other populous and expansionist — have been pushed into each other’s arms by Washington’s own punitive strategies.

For decades, the bedrock of U.S. grand strategy was to keep Moscow and Beijing apart. President Richard Nixon’s 1972 opening to Beijing was not about cozying up to Mao Zedong’s brutal regime, but about exploiting the Sino-Soviet split by coopting China in an informal alliance geared toward containing and rolling back Soviet influence and power.

That strategy helped the West win the Cold War, not militarily but geopolitically.

Since 2022, however, Washington has inverted that logic. In response to Putin’s invasion of Ukraine, the U.S. unleashed unprecedented sanctions designed to cripple Russia economically. Instead, the sanctions drove the Kremlin toward Beijing while tightening Putin’s grip on power. What had been an uneasy partnership has become strategic collaboration against a common adversary — the U.S.

Rather than playing one against the other, America finds itself confronting a two-against-one dynamic, with China as the primary gainer. Western sanctions have effectively handed resource-rich Russia to resource-hungry China. Beijing has also chipped away at Russian influence in Central Asia, bringing former Soviet republics into its orbit.

Meanwhile, despite the grinding war in Ukraine, Russia remains a formidable power. Its global reach, military capacity and resilience under sanctions have belied Western hopes that it could be isolated into irrelevance.

On the battlefield, Russia holds the strategic initiative, strengthening Putin’s bargaining hand and reducing his incentive to accept any ceasefire not largely on his own terms. The uncomfortable truth for Washington is that it risks losing a proxy war into which it has poured vast resources.

The legacy-conscious Trump recognizes this. His push for a negotiated end to the war is not a retreat but an attempt to cut losses and refocus U.S. strategy on the larger contest with China that will shape the emerging new global order.

Among the great powers, only China has both the ambition and material base to supplant the U.S. Its economy, military spending and technological capabilities dwarf that of Russia. Yet Beijing remains the main beneficiary of America’s hard line against Moscow.

In fact, sanctions and Western weaponization of international finance have turned China into Russia’s financial lifeline. Russia’s export earnings are now largely parked in Chinese banks, in effect giving Beijing a share of the returns. China has also locked in discounted, long-term energy supplies from Russia. These secure overland flows, which cannot be interdicted by hostile forces, bolster China’s energy security in ways maritime trade never could — a crucial hedge as it eyes Taiwan. Far from weakening Beijing, U.S. policy has made it stronger.

A formal China-Russia alliance would unite Eurasia’s vast resources and power — America’s ultimate nightmare, as it would accelerate its relative decline. The Ukraine war has drained U.S. focus even as China expands influence in the Indo-Pacific, the true theater of 21st-century geopolitics.

This is why the Alaska summit mattered. Trump and Putin seemed to recognize that improved ties could reshape the global balance of power. For Trump, the goal is clear: Reverse America’s blunder, separate Moscow from Beijing and refocus power on the systemic challenge posed by China.

Critics call this appeasement, but it echoes Nixon’s outreach to Mao: exploiting geopolitical rivalries to keep the U.S. globally preeminent.

Washington needs similar clarity today, not doubling down on a failing proxy war, but easing tensions with Russia while strengthening deterrence in the Indo-Pacific, where the stakes are truly global.

Trump’s tariff-first approach, evident in his punitive approach toward India, has already hurt important partnerships. Yet his instinct on the U.S.-China-Russia triangle could be transformative. If he can begin to pry Moscow away from Beijing — or even sow just enough mistrust to prevent a durable Sino-Russian alliance — he will have altered the trajectory of world politics.

America need not befriend Russia — it need only prevent Russia from becoming China’s junior partner in an anti-U.S. coalition. That requires ending the Ukraine war and creating space for a geopolitical reset.

The Alaska summit was only a first step. But it acknowledged what U.S. policymakers resist admitting: continuing the current course will further strengthen China and entrench America’s disadvantages. A shift in strategy is not weakness. It is the essence of grand strategy — recognizing when old approaches have outlived their usefulness.

If Trump can reengineer the strategic geometry of the great-power triangle, he will have preserved America’s place at the apex of the global order.

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

Brahma Chellaney, The Hill

President Trump’s decision to slap secondary sanctions on India over its imports of Russian oil, while also unleashing a tariff barrage on Indian exports, is more than a trade dispute. It is a self-inflicted wound to America’s most vital strategic partnership in Asia at a time when China is flexing its military muscle throughout the region.

Washington has long courted India as a bulwark against an expansionist China and as a critical pillar of its “free and open Indo-Pacific” strategy. Yet Trump’s punitive steps against India are eroding the very trust on which strategic alignment rests — to Beijing’s delight.

The mutual trust painstakingly built over years underpins bilateral cooperation. Once lost, it will be hard to rebuild. Even if the administration eventually reaches a trade deal with India, it may not be able to repair the damage.

Targeting India over Russian oil purchases smacks of selective enforcement. The European Union’s large imports of Russian energy products, especially liquefied natural gas, have been left untouched. Such European imports not only contribute more to Russia’s coffers than India’s purchases, but Europe spends more on Russian energy than on assisting Ukraine.

Trump has also spared the world’s largest buyer of Russian oil and gas: China. But India, the very country Washington has spent years courting as an Asian counterweight, has become the first victim of his secondary sanctions. This suggests Trump’s tactics are less about punishing Moscow than about pressuring New Delhi.

Russian oil is a pretext to strong-arm India into accepting a Trump-dictated trade agreement, much as he foisted a largely one-sided deal on the European Union. That his tariffs on India have little to do with Russian oil is evident from one telling fact: Indian exports to the U.S. of refined fuels such as gasoline, diesel and jet fuel — increasingly made from Russian crude — remain exempt from his tariffs.

Such is the Trumpian logic. He has hit Indian non-energy exports with steep tariffs, but spared booming exports of refined fuels made largely from Russian crude. Trump seems to have no problem with Russian oil — as long as it is refined in India and then pumped into American planes, trucks and cars.

Furthermore, given continued U.S. imports of Russian enriched uranium, fertilizers and chemicals, Trump does not seem troubled that his own administration is helping fund Russia’s war in Ukraine while still locked in a proxy war with Moscow.

In truth, Trump is using New Delhi’s Russian oil purchases as a crude bargaining tactic to secure a bilateral trade deal on his terms. India illustrates how the Trump administration has weaponized tariffs not merely to extract trade concessions but also to bind other countries more closely to American strategic and security interests. In seeking to bend India to its will, it has targeted that country’s traditionally independent approach to global affairs, including neutrality on conflicts.

Indian exports to the U.S. now face a steep 50 percent tariff, signaling the end of Trump’s bromance with Prime Minister Narendra Modi. His moves against strategic-partner India are harsher than against China. This marks a dramatic U-turn from his first term, when bilateral relations thrived to the extent that Trump declared at a huge February 2020 rally in Modi’s home state of Gujarat, “America loves India, America respects India, and America will always be faithful and loyal friends to the Indian people.”

In Trump’s second term, Modi was among the first world leaders to visit the White House, agreeing to fast-track trade negotiations. In July, the Indians believed they had reached an interim deal, awaiting only Trump’s approval. But in characteristic fashion, Trump abruptly rejected the accord and embarked on punishing India.

New Delhi has publicly criticized the Trump administration’s double standards. But it is more concerned about a deeper question: If Washington can so easily turn its coercive tools on a supposed ally, what is to stop it from doing so again?

U.S.-India relations have probably plunged to their lowest point in the 21st century, thanks to Trump’s economic war and his singling out of India for secondary sanctions.

The fallout will extend beyond lost trade. India could respond by doubling down on strategic autonomy — hedging between the U.S., Russia and others — and diversifying its economic and security partnerships. Trump’s gamble may wring out trade concessions in the short term, but it risks undermining the security architecture in the Indo-Pacific, where unity among key democracies is the only real check on China’s expansionism. America is effectively handing China an opening to court a disillusioned India.

New Delhi is already signaling that it has other geopolitical options. Russian President Vladimir Putin is expected to visit India in the coming weeks. In less than three weeks, Modi is scheduled to meet Chinese President Xi Jinping on the sidelines of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization summit, which Putin will also attend. Moscow is pushing for a revived Russia-India-China grouping.

A stable Indo-Pacific order demands more than joint military exercises and communiqués; it requires political will to accommodate each other’s core interests. Punishing India in ways that ignore its legitimate security and energy needs sends the opposite message.

Ironically, Trump’s sanctions-and-tariffs blitz may have done India a favor by exposing the strategic reality of America’s unreliability. By presenting the U.S. as a fickle, transactional power, Trump has signaled that Washington cannot be counted on to separate short-term commercial considerations from long-term strategic imperatives.

Trump’s economic coercion risks alienating a vast, still-growing market that U.S. firms see as central to their future growth. India remains the world’s fastest-growing major economy, and as many other economies stagnate and populations shrink, it stands out as a rising giant.

Sacrificing a linchpin of Indo-Pacific stability for a fleeting win in a tariff war is not tough bargaining. It is strategic recklessness — and a gift to China.

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

By Brahma Chellaney, The Hill

President Trump campaigned on a promise to end the Ukraine war within 24 hours of returning to the White House. Now back in the White House, he finds himself hemmed in by the realities of great-power politics.

Trump’s self-confidence has collided with the entrenched dynamics of a grinding conflict. Frustrated, he has turned to familiar tools of coercion: threats, pressure tactics and a new flow of advanced weapons to Kyiv.

Trump’s latest initiative gives Moscow a 50-day deadline to end its war in Ukraine. He has threatened secondary sanctions on Russia’s key trading partners and opened a fresh weapons pipeline to Kyiv, hoping this twin-pronged approach will force Russian President Vladimir Putin’s hand. But like Trump’s earlier attempts to employ brute pressure as a substitute for diplomacy, this initiative reflects impatience more than strategic clarity.

Trump once believed that his personal rapport with Putin, coupled with a dealmaker’s instinct, could bring about a ceasefire. But six months into his new term, his peace push lies in tatters. Russia continues to press its territorial ambitions, while Ukraine, bolstered by Western military support, shows little interest in making major concessions. Instead of a breakthrough, Trump faces a deepening quagmire.

The irony is unmistakable — the president who pledged to end America’s entanglements in “forever wars” is now escalating U.S. involvement in one that is deflecting American attention away from more-pressing strategic challenges, including from China, which is seeking to supplant the U.S. as the world’s foremost power.

Trump’s new Ukraine strategy bears an eerie resemblance to his Iran policy, when he tried to bomb Tehran into submission, only to end up entrenching animosities further and weakening U.S. leverage.

There is no doubt that ending the war in Ukraine is in America’s strategic interest. The conflict has absorbed vast U.S. resources, diverted diplomatic bandwidth and strained transatlantic cohesion.

More importantly, the war has delayed Washington’s ability to focus on the key Indo-Pacific region — the world’s emerging economic and geopolitical nerve center.

The pivot to the Indo-Pacific is not merely aspirational. A leaked memorandum titled “Interim National Defense Strategic Guidance,” signed by Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, identifies China as the Pentagon’s “sole pacing threat.” The Trump administration is seeking to reorient the U.S. military posture to prepare for a potential showdown in Asia over Chinese aggression against democratic Taiwan.

The war in Ukraine, by draining American attention, resources and capabilities, undermines this rebalancing.

Seen from this angle, Trump is right to seek an end to the conflict. But his approach — escalating arms transfers while threatening punitive sanctions on countries that do business with Russia — is unlikely to yield peace. If anything, it risks prolonging the war by reinforcing the belief in Kyiv that Washington remains committed to a military solution.

In fact, Trump’s threat to impose harsh penalties on Russia’s trading partners lacks credibility. Such sanctions would trigger a U.S. showdown with China, which trades nearly $250 billion annually with Russia, including major oil and gas imports. Sanctioning India could upend America’s Indo-Pacific strategy aimed at maintaining a stable balance of power.

History offers little support for the notion that coercion alone can deliver durable peace. Military pressure may bring parties to the table, but diplomacy is what cements outcomes. The Dayton Accords, which ended the Bosnian war, and the Camp David Accords, which brought peace between Egypt and Israel, were both products of tough negotiations rather than deadlines and threats.

Trump’s maximalist tactics risk backfiring on multiple fronts. Sanctioning Russia’s trading partners could alienate crucial “swing” nations in the global contest with China. These states are already wary of U.S. unilateralism, and some of them could be pushed into Beijing’s orbit. Moreover, punitive economic measures often fail to change state behavior, especially when national security interests are at stake, as is the case for Russia in Ukraine.

Meanwhile, a flood of advanced new U.S. weapons to Ukraine may boost short-term battlefield performance but will do little to bridge the wider diplomatic impasse. Putin, faced with increased Western backing for Kyiv, is unlikely to scale back his goals. Instead, he may double down, calculating that time and attrition are on his side.

The real path to peace in Ukraine lies not in deadlines or ultimatums, but in a forward-looking diplomatic initiative that recognizes the legitimate interests of all parties while seeking to uphold Ukraine’s sovereignty. The Biden administration made limited overtures in this direction, but Trump, who claims to be a great dealmaker, has an opportunity to go further.

Instead of trying to impose peace through pressure alone, he must find ways to bring both sides to the table — with credible inducements and face-saving compromises.

This will require working with international partners — not just NATO allies, but also influential neutral states like India and the United Arab Emirates that can serve as mediators. It will also require a nuanced understanding of Russia’s domestic political constraints and Ukraine’s security concerns. None of this is easy, but it is more likely to succeed than a strategy built on coercion and deadlines.

Despite promising to end the war quickly, Trump now finds himself caught in the same bind as his predecessor. His failure to secure a ceasefire has deepened America’s involvement in the war — the very entanglement he vowed to end.

Unless he pivots toward a more diplomatic course, his 50-day ultimatum to Moscow will go the way of his 24-hour pledge: unmet and quietly shelved.

Deadlines don’t make peace. Diplomacy does.

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

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By Brahma Chellaney, The Hill

In his second term, President Trump’s excessive personalization of foreign policy has been on full display. But far from being the deft strategist he portrays, Trump has turned American diplomacy into an impulsive, self-serving spectacle.

The most recent example is telling: Trump’s announcement of a ceasefire between Israel and Iran blindsided even his own top officials. That a decision of such geopolitical magnitude was made without the knowledge of his senior advisors speaks volumes about his go-it-alone governing style.

From suspending foreign aid to saying the U.S. should “take over and redevelop Gaza,” Trump’s uncoordinated, impulsive approach stands in sharp contrast to traditional U.S. diplomacy, which relies on strategic planning, inter-agency consensus and durable alliances. Trump’s method instead favors drama, unpredictability and personal branding — often at the expense of the national interest.

Trump has long treated foreign policy as theatrical performance, designed more to generate headlines than to achieve lasting outcomes. His habit of bypassing expert advice and established channels consistently undermines U.S. credibility — not just at home, but also among allies and adversaries.

His approach has sown confusion within his administration and distrust abroad. Allies are left wondering whether Trump’s statements reflect official policy or personal whim, and even his own Cabinet is often in the dark. Trump’s foreign policy is less a coherent strategy than a string of dramatic set-pieces crafted for maximum personal visibility.

Take the paradox of his recent Middle East gambit. Trump greenlit Israel’s preemptive war on Iran, then ordered U.S. airstrikes on Iranian nuclear sites — facilities that are subject to International Atomic Energy Agency safeguards and are monitored under Iran’s Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty commitments. After declaring victory, he touted a U.S.-brokered ceasefire as vindication of his strategy. Yet he conspicuously failed to acknowledge the crucial mediating role played by Qatar’s emir, Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani.

It was, in fact, the Qatari ruler who negotiated the truce that ended what Trump dubbed the “12-Day War.” But for Trump, who never misses a chance to claim center stage, downplaying others’ key roles is par for the course.

Trump claimed that he arranged the ceasefire between India and Pakistan following their military hostilities in early May. The confrontation was triggered by an cross-border terrorist attack in Indian Kashmir on April 22 in which Islamist gunmen targeted non-Muslims, killing 26 people.

India maintains that the ceasefire came about through direct bilateral talks after Pakistan requested a truce via the military hotline. But that hasn’t stopped Trump from repeatedly claiming credit and lobbying for a Nobel Peace Prize. “They should give me the Nobel Prize for Rwanda, or the Congo, or Serbia, Kosovo … The big one is India and Pakistan,” he recently declared.

Ironically, Trump may believe that bombing Iran helps his case for the Nobel — a prize that, over the years, has gone to a surprising roster of militarists. Theodore Roosevelt (the champion of “Big Stick” diplomacy), Henry Kissinger (the mastermind of the carpet-bombing of Laos and Cambodia) and Barack Obama (the serial interventionist who helped turn Libya into a failed state) all won it.

Yet Trump’s personalization of diplomacy brings risks that go beyond ego-driven showmanship. Major decisions made on impulse, for optics or without consulting national security professionals erode the foundations of U.S. foreign policy. They also increase the danger of strategic miscalculation.

Foreign governments cannot know whether Trump’s declarations reflect actual American policy or are merely the mood of the moment. By sidelining intelligence assessments and undercutting his own officials — as he did by floating regime change in Iran after his team publicly denied such intentions — Trump breeds internal disarray and external uncertainty.

This policy chaos is amplified by Trump’s compulsive communication style. No world leader talks more or posts more on social media. American officials are often left scrambling to explain statements they didn’t anticipate, while global actors are forced to decipher whether the next move will be announced from the Situation Room or on Truth Social.

The blurring of lines between national interest and personal gain further complicates matters. Increasingly, foreign policy appears to double as a mechanism for advancing private interests. In the past six months, Trump’s personal wealth surged thanks to a string of cryptocurrency ventures and deals, and there is mounting evidence that the Trump family’s crypto empire is influencing presidential decision-making.

Consider Trump’s handling of Pakistan in the wake of the Kashmir terror attack. Between the massacre and India’s retaliation, Pakistan hurriedly signed a major investment deal with World Liberty Financial, a crypto firm founded by Trump and his sons before last November’s election. Days later, Trump helped shield Pakistan from further Indian reprisals. Now he declares, “I love Pakistan” — a country that harbored Osama bin Laden for years and still shelters global terrorists.

In the end, Trump has reduced U.S. statecraft to spectacle. American foreign policy today looks less like the work of a global superpower and more like a one-man reality show — replete with cliffhangers, reversals, business deals and applause lines.

Such theatrics may serve Trump’s political ambitions, but they leave America’s strategic credibility — and the international order it helped build — increasingly vulnerable.

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