INDIA’s foreign policy establishment loves grand phrases. “Strategic autonomy.” “Multipolar world.” “Independent decision-making.” These terms are repeated endlessly in speeches, summit declarations, and think-tank panels. Yet when tested against real pressure, they collapse with alarming ease.
The United States encourages India to replace Russian oil with Venezuelan crude, and India’s apparent willingness to oblige exposes the hollowness behind the rhetoric. Trump has declared victory in terms that are humiliating for his foreign policy: “They’re coming around” – a humiliating submission and a let-down to a loyal partner of decades – Russia.
This is being framed, predictably, as a pragmatic adjustment in a turbulent geopolitical landscape. Washington claims it is merely helping India diversify energy sources while tightening the economic screws on Russia amid the Ukraine war. New Delhi, in turn, hints that it is acting responsibly, balancing relationships, and safeguarding long-term interests. But beneath this diplomatic varnish lies an uncomfortable truth: India’s oil policy is once again being shaped less by sovereign calculation and more by American convenience.
The absurdity of the proposal should be obvious. For years, Venezuela was subjected to crippling US sanctions, economic warfare, and political destabilisation. Its oil was declared unacceptable, its government illegitimate, its economy deliberately strangled. India, like many other countries, was pressured to reduce or eliminate Venezuelan imports in the name of “democracy” and “human rights.” Today, that same oil is suddenly respectable again — not because conditions in Venezuela have dramatically improved, but because Washington needs an alternative supplier to plug gaps created by its own sanctions regime against Russia.
This is not a moral foreign policy; it is opportunistic. What is more troubling is the Indian response. When India increased purchases of discounted Russian oil, it did so on sound economic grounds. Cheap energy helped control inflation, stabilise domestic fuel prices, and cushion the impact of global shocks on ordinary citizens. India rightly argued that its primary obligation was to its people, not to Western geopolitical strategies. That position was defensible, rational, and consistent with the idea of strategic autonomy.
So, what has changed? Certainly not India’s energy needs. Certainly not the logic of buying oil at favourable prices. What has changed is the intensity of Western pressure – particularly from the United States – and India’s apparent eagerness to demonstrate loyalty that is now owed.
Replacing Russian oil with Venezuelan oil at Washington’s suggestion does nothing to advance Indian sovereignty. It does not create independence; it merely shifts dependence from one supplier to another, under American supervision. Worse, it establishes a precedent: that India’s trade decisions are subject to approval, modification, and correction by the United States depending on its current geopolitical priorities.
This pattern is not new. Iran was once a major and reliable energy partner for India — until US sanctions came to the fore. Indian refiners were forced to cut imports, payment mechanisms were disrupted, and strategic projects like Chabahar were placed in limbo. India then complied, absorbing economic and strategic costs with little protest. Now the same script is playing out again, with different actors but identical power dynamics.
The subtext is unmistakable. Strategic autonomy is acceptable as long as it does not inconvenience Washington. Supporters of the government will rationalise the climb-down and argue that this is simply realism – that India must manage relations with the world’s most powerful country and avoid unnecessary confrontation. But realism does not mean obedience. Nor does diplomacy require self-humiliation. Countries which are truly confident in their global standing push back, negotiate, and draw red lines. They do not rush to reorient national policy at the bidding of a superpower.
The political optics are even more revealing. This episode feels less like balanced statecraft and more like a continuation of Trump-era deference, when foreign policy was reduced to photo-ops, personal flattery, and transactional displays of loyalty. The language has softened under subsequent administrations, but the expectation remains the same: compliance in exchange for approval.
India gains little from this arrangement. The United States will not stop lecturing New Delhi on democracy, human rights, or internal politics. It will not offer unconditional support on Kashmir, trade disputes, or technology transfers. What it will take — gladly — is India’s willingness to align its economic choices with American strategic needs.
Meanwhile, India pays the price. Energy security becomes politicised. Long-term supplier relationships are undermined. The idea of an independent Global South voice is weakened. And perhaps most damaging of all, India helps legitimise a global order where rules are flexible for the powerful and binding for everyone else.
Venezuela’s sudden rehabilitation is proof of this hypocrisy. Yesterday’s “dictatorship” is today’s “partner” because oil markets demand it. Russia’s isolation is enforced not through universal consensus, but through pressure applied selectively on countries deemed pliable. By falling in line, India does not challenge this system — it reinforces it.
A truly autonomous India would have said something simple and principled: our energy policy will be decided by national interests, not external pressure. We will not replace one sanctioned supplier with another at the whim of a third country. We will engage with all partners based on consistency, legality, and mutual benefit.
That India did not say this is telling.
Strategic autonomy is not proven in speeches or slogans. It is proven in moments of discomfort, when saying “no” carries a cost. This was such a moment. And once again, India chose the path of least resistance — mistaking compliance for pragmatism and submission for diplomacy.
History is rarely kind to countries which abandon principles. And energy politics, more than most domains, has a long memory. India would do well to remember that.
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Ranjan Solomon is a writer, researcher and activist based in Goa. He has worked in social movements since he was 19 years of age. The views expressed here are the author’s own and Clarion India does not necessarily share or subscribe to them. He can be contacted at ranjan.solomon@gmail.com
