West cannot win against a unified Russia-India-China axis

In the brutal calculus of international relations, good intentions make poor strategy. The Ukrainian war presents us with this uncomfortable truth in stark relief. Morally, the case is clear-cut. Russia violated every principle of sovereignty that underpins our international order. Ukraine’s cause is just. Yet moral clarity, however satisfying, cannot substitute for strategic wisdom. The harsh reality emerging from this conflict is one Western leaders refuse to acknowledge: We cannot win a prolonged contest against a unified Russia-India-China axis.

This is not moral relativism but cold arithmetic. The world has bifurcated into competing blocs, and the West is haemorrhaging allies at an alarming rate. To preserve what remains of our influence and indeed our values, we must engage in the messy business of realpolitik. That means breaking at least one major power away from Beijing’s orbit before this emerging alliance consolidates into something unstoppable.

What unfolded at September’s Shanghai Cooperation Organisation summit was not diplomacy as usual. It was the formal announcement of a post-Western world order. Xi Jinping’s “global governance initiative” represents far more than bureaucratic restructuring—it is a direct assault on the dollar-dominated financial system that has anchored American hegemony since Bretton Woods.

The Power of Siberia 2 pipeline agreement signed between Russia and China deserves particular attention. This is not merely an energy deal worth celebrating in Moscow and Beijing. It represents the permanent reorientation of Russian gas supplies away from Europe toward Asia, creating an economic fortress immune to Western sanctions. When combined with Iran’s BRICS membership and Brazil’s emergence as a major energy producer that will be pumping over 4 million barrels of oil daily in the near future, we are witnessing the formation of a resource-rich bloc that spans three continents and commands over 7 billion people.

But the most devastating blow to Western interests has been India’s drift into this orbit. The 50-minute conversation between Putin and Modi in that famously signal-proof limousine likely covered everything from Sino-Indian border disputes to Russia’s remarkable resilience against economic warfare. What emerged was not just diplomatic protocol, but the scaffolding of a unified BRICS coalition where India’s demographic weight and technological capacity amplify China’s manufacturing dominance and Russia’s resource abundance.

The fundamental error in Western statecraft has been the assumption that economic coercion could fracture this emerging alliance. Instead, sanctions have accelerated its consolidation. Russia has not merely survived our economic war—it has thoroughly defeated it, demonstrating an industrial resilience that has left NATO officials scrambling to explain how Moscow now outproduces the entire Western alliance in artillery shells.

Trump’s decision to impose steep tariffs on Indian goods as punishment for purchasing Russian oil represents perhaps the most catastrophic misreading of geopolitical dynamics in recent memory. India’s response was swift and decisive: Absorb the tariffs, deepen ties with Russia, and pivot decisively toward BRICS. Indian media, once sympathetic to American leadership, now runs increasingly anti-Western commentary. Modi, who harboured genuine hopes for constructive engagement with Washington, has apparently concluded that America’s “whiplash” foreign policy makes it fundamentally unreliable.

The arithmetic here is instructive. India’s exports to America represent roughly 2 to 3 per cent of GDP. Although this is significant, it is hardly worth sacrificing sovereignty over. For a nation that fought so bitterly for independence from colonial rule, the choice between market access and strategic autonomy was never really a choice at all.

Meanwhile, Europe’s response to this shifting landscape has been characteristically delusional. French President Macron’s suggestion that European troops might be deployed to Ukraine borders on fantasy, particularly given Putin’s explicit warning that such forces would constitute legitimate targets. The “Coalition of the Willing” assembled in Paris represents less coalition-building than coalition theatre: 26 countries pledging post-war security guarantees for Ukraine while lacking the military-industrial capacity to sustain current aid levels.

Here lies the brutal calculus Western strategists refuse to confront: A fully-consolidated Russia-India-China bloc would be militarily, economically, and demographically unstoppable by current Western capabilities. Consider the raw numbers. This axis commands over half the world’s population versus roughly one billion in traditional Western allies. China’s shipbuilding capacity alone exceeds that of all NATO nations combined. Russia’s current artillery production surpasses the entire Western alliance, a fact even NATO’s leadership readily acknowledges.

The energy dimension is equally sobering. This bloc controls vast reserves of oil, gas, and critical minerals, while Europe faces mounting energy costs that threaten industrial competitiveness. Norway’s domestic backlash against power exports amid soaring domestic prices offers a preview of the political tensions that will define European policy as Russian energy remains permanently off-limits.

Then there is the question of economic dynamism. The combined GDP growth rates of BRICS nations far exceed those of Western economies. More critically, these are economies focused on production rather than financialisation, on manufacturing rather than what the Economist recently celebrated as Britain’s “cultural exports”—including pornographic content creators. This represents more than economic divergence; it is civilisational divergence between societies that make things and societies that consume them.

Strategic Options: Breaking the Chain

If we cannot defeat a unified axis, we must prevent its full consolidation. This requires abandoning the comfortable illusions of post-Cold War hegemony and accepting the harsh realities of multipolar competition. Two strategic paths present themselves, each requiring sacrifices that will test Western political resolve.

The Russia Option involves recognising that Moscow’s partnership with Beijing, while currently robust, is not inevitable. Russian civilisation, despite current tensions, shares more historical DNA with Europe than with Confucian China. A negotiated settlement in Ukraine that addresses legitimate Russian security concerns—particularly regarding NATO expansion—could begin the delicate process of peeling Moscow away from Beijing’s embrace.

This approach demands that Western leaders swallow considerable pride. It means acknowledging that Russia’s concerns about Western military infrastructure on its borders are not entirely unreasonable. It means accepting that a stable, neutral Ukraine with credible security guarantees might serve Western interests better than a devastated Ukraine in a world where we face a unified Eurasian bloc.

The India Option represents the more immediately viable path. India’s participation in BRICS has always been somewhat reluctant, driven more by China’s regional dominance than genuine enthusiasm for anti-Western alignment. The India-China rivalry runs deep, encompassing border disputes, competition for influence across South Asia, and fundamental disagreements about regional order. These natural fissures provide opportunities that skilled diplomacy could exploit.

Reversing the catastrophic loss of India requires abandoning the sanctions regime against Russian oil purchases, recognising India’s legitimate security concerns regarding both China and Pakistan, and offering concrete incentives that outweigh the benefits of BRICS membership. This means treating India as the strategic partner it could be rather than the subordinate ally Washington apparently expects.

Critics will rightfully point to the moral hazards of such thinking. How can we reward Russian aggression? How can we abandon Ukraine after promising unwavering support? These concerns deserve serious consideration, not dismissive realpolitik.

The counterargument, however, is equally compelling. What serves Ukrainian interests better: Continued devastation in pursuit of maximal territorial restoration, or a negotiated settlement that preserves Ukrainian statehood while preventing Western marginalisation in a Chinese-dominated world? What preserves Western values more effectively: Idealistic overreach that pushes major democracies into authoritarian camps, or pragmatic engagement that maintains sufficient power to defend those values globally?

As I have argued elsewhere, Western decline is entirely self-inflicted. A strong alliance between Australia, New Zealand, Canada, the United States, Britain, and the European Union would indeed be unmatched. But such an alliance requires more than shared rhetoric about “rules-based order”. It demands the hard work of strategic coordination, industrial policy, and yes, occasional moral compromise in service of larger strategic objectives.

In this new world, as my colleague Michael Every never tires of pointing out, it is not about how high your GDP is, but what GDP is for. While Britain celebrates its “cultural exports” and Europe perfects the art of regulation, our competitors are building tanks, ships, and industrial capacity. They understand something we have forgotten: In a world of geopolitical competition, material power matters more than moral posturing.

Europe’s technological surrender provides the most instructive case study of what happens when civilisations choose comfort over competition. According to recent assessments, Europe consistently ranks third in artificial intelligence, biotechnology, and quantum technologies. In semiconductors and space technology, it barely registers as competitive, commanding roughly 10 per cent of global chip production despite billions in policy promises. This is not merely economic underperformance—it is civilisational capitulation.

The Americans innovate, the Chinese build, and the Europeans regulate. The result is as predictable as it is pathetic: A continent that speaks the language of digital sovereignty while practicing the politics of managed decline. Europe has chosen to referee a game it refuses to play, mistaking bureaucratic process for strategic vision.

This is how civilizations die: not through conquest, but through the gradual erosion of will and capability. Not through dramatic collapse, but through the slow realisation that others have learned to play the great game better than we have.

This is the final part of a two-part series