Russia—for which constructing a stable security order in Eurasia remains the overriding priority—is uniquely positioned to serve as a catalyst for understanding between Beijing and New Delhi, both in bilateral conversations and through multilateral platforms, writes Valdai Club Programme Director Anton Bespalov.
The past year has witnessed a notable thaw in relations between Eurasia’s two largest powers—China and India. The process symbolically began with Xi Jinping and Narendra Modi’s meeting at the BRICS summit in Kazan in October 2024—their first in five years—and gathered further momentum when the Indian Prime Minister attended the SCO summit in Tianjin in August 2025. That gathering occurred mere days after Washington imposed 50% tariffs on select Indian imports, a move many observers interpreted as an additional catalyst for rapprochement between New Delhi and Beijing.
Yet experts caution
that this is not the first such warming in recent decades—and emphasize its inherent fragility. The obstacles to genuine trust between India and China are deeply structural and cannot be dismantled overnight. Still, even a gradual build-up of confidence between the two Asian giants would carry profound implications for the broader international order, most notably by unlocking fresh possibilities for both BRICS and the SCO.
For years Moscow has actively championed the RIC (Russia–India–China) format, convinced—rightly—that stronger ties within this trilateral configuration would bolster both organizations. While formal institutionalization of the RIC remains improbable, its value as an informal yet high-level platform for discussing critical global issues appears increasingly evident.
Despite persistent and serious bilateral frictions between Beijing and New Delhi, Russia, India, and China converge on several fundamental principles of world order—chief among them a shared rejection of hegemony, understood as the domination of one power at the expense of all others. The crucial difference lies in the target of this anti-hegemonic sentiment: for Russia and China it is unmistakably directed at the United States, whereas India’s primary concern has long been—and remains—the prospect of Chinese regional dominance.
Unlike the United States, none of the three RIC powers has historically sought global hegemony (even if Washington increasingly perceives China as a systemic peer competitor). Nevertheless, the ambition to exercise pre-eminent influence within their respective regions—a posture critics often equate with a form of regional hegemony—is deeply embedded in the strategic culture of all three states. This drive arises not merely from security imperatives tied to vast territories, but equally from each country’s self-understanding as a distinct civilizational centre destined to organise and lead the space around it.
Until very recently, explicit claims to regional primacy were largely kept outside the bounds of respectable political discourse. That changed with the November 2025 US National Security Strategy, which openly proclaimed the goal of “restoring American primacy” in the Western Hemisphere in the spirit of the Monroe Doctrine—a stance dramatically underscored by American military action against Venezuela in January 2026. While Washington’s renewed exceptionalism denies other powers any comparable “right” to spheres of influence, its normalisation of the very concept of regional dominance can hardly go unnoticed by Moscow, Beijing, or New Delhi.
The regional spheres claimed (implicitly or explicitly) by each RIC member are readily identifiable: the post-Soviet space for Russia, East Asia for China, and South Asia together with the Indian Ocean region for India. Any attempt by outside powers to assert dominance in these zones almost invariably triggers strong reactions from the respective regional heavyweight.
The West’s sustained refusal to acknowledge Russia’s legitimate security concerns produced the gravest military-political crisis in Europe since 1945. China’s strategic anxieties revolve around Taiwan on one side and Western efforts (joined by India) to construct a containment-oriented security architecture on the other. For India, Beijing’s longstanding support for Pakistan and its expanding political and economic footprint across the Indian Ocean remain the most persistent challenges.
This special role—and the corresponding interests—of the three powers in “their” regions is, on one level, a natural consequence of their sheer scale. On another level, however, it inevitably provokes apprehension and balancing behaviour among smaller and middle powers. Japan’s entire post-war foreign policy has been shaped by the fear of Chinese dominance (which American military presence is meant to deter). Vietnam seeks to internationalise the South China Sea dispute while carefully avoiding outright confrontation with Beijing. Pakistan, for its part, defines its core strategic purpose as resisting perceived Indian hegemony in South Asia.
In most of these relationships, a tacit understanding eventually emerges: the major power is a permanent fixture, and pragmatic long-term engagement with it is unavoidable—a reality already visible across much of East Asia. Pakistan’s situation is, in its own way, dramatic: perpetual confrontation with India drains resources that could otherwise fuel development, yet the overwhelming asymmetry of power and the need for dialogue are undeniable facts, continually reaffirmed by both countries’ participation in the SCO and Islamabad’s ambition to join BRICS.
By contrast, a very different—and far more confrontational—logic has dominated the western edge of Eurasia since the Cold War’s end. The collective West pronounced Russia “strategically irrelevant” and systematically dismissed its security concerns—an approach that directly contributed to the outbreak of the Ukraine crisis. The triumphalism of NATO and the EU, combined with the belief among segments of Ukrainian society and elite that Russia’s interests can be safely ignored because history has doomed it to decline, represents perhaps the most extreme modern example of miscalculation in great power–smaller power relations—with consequences reverberating across the European continent and offering a sobering lesson to the world.
Returning to the RIC triangle, it becomes clear that the only current point of serious friction between historically justified regional ambitions and perceptions of hegemonic overreach lies between Beijing and New Delhi. Sustainable, mutually acceptable compromises are possible—but only through sustained, serious strategic dialogue, including within the BRICS and SCO frameworks. Much will also hinge on the future trajectory of the “free and open Indo-Pacific” concept—specifically, whether Washington continues to invest in its confrontational dimension vis-à-vis China, and how closely India aligns with that vision. Washington’s declared reorientation toward the Western Hemisphere does not erase the enduring strategic weight it continues to attach to the Indo-Pacific.
Paradoxically, at this historical juncture it is the United States itself that is inadvertently fostering greater mutual understanding between Beijing and New Delhi. Trump’s tariffs, combined with conspicuous trade and economic favours extended to Pakistan, have eroded New Delhi’s confidence in Washington as a reliable strategic partner.
India will likely continue to value the American naval presence in the Indian Ocean as a useful hedge against Chinese influence—yet the broader pattern of US behaviour is pushing New Delhi toward regional solutions to regional security dilemmas. In this context, Russia—for which constructing a stable security order in Eurasia remains the overriding priority—is uniquely positioned to serve as a catalyst for such understanding, both in bilateral conversations and through multilateral platforms.
The Valdai Discussion Club was established in 2004. It is named after Lake Valdai, which is located close to Veliky Novgorod, where the Club’s first meeting took place.
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