President Vladimir Putin’s visit to India in early December, coming amid renewed trade tensions between Delhi and Washington, once again reinforced Russia’s image in India as the most reliable external partner and a natural hedge against the volatility of American policy. Since the Russian Revolution, India’s nationalist elite has viewed Moscow as a counterweight to Western dominance. This marked a sharp reversal from the pre-independence era when British India was embedded in the imperial “Great Game” against Tsarist Russia. The Soviet Union’s all-encompassing rivalry with the West, combined with the Anglo-American tilt towards Pakistan, firmly aligned Moscow and Delhi during the Cold War.
Against the backdrop of the Ukraine war, it is tempting to see Russia as locked permanently in an existential struggle against the United States and the West. This perception, popular in India, obscures a deeper and more enduring reality. Russia does not seek the destruction of the West; it seeks recognition within it. From Peter the Great’s reforms aimed at Europeanisation to post-Soviet overtures to NATO and membership in the G-8, Moscow has repeatedly tried to secure a place inside Western institutions. Russia’s rhetoric of sovereignty and resistance to Western dominance thus masks a persistent quest for acknowledgment. Moscow’s quarrel with the West is less about separation than about status—about refusing to accept a subordinate position in the European and global order.
Russia does not seek the destruction of the West; it seeks recognition within it. Its rhetoric of sovereignty and resistance to Western dominance masks a persistent quest for acknowledgement. Moscow’s quarrel with the West is less about separation than about status
Why, then, is Russia willing to pay such a staggering price in Ukraine—absorbing sanctions, isolation, and battlefield losses? Part of the answer lies in President Putin’s belief that Ukraine is inseparable from Russia’s historical core. But it also rests on a deeper self-image rooted in the myth of Moscow as the “Third Rome.” After the fall of Constantinople in 1453, Russian clerics proclaimed Moscow the last bastion of true Christianity. Theology fused with imperial ambition: Russia was not just another state, but the heir to Rome’s universal mission. This sense of destiny was reinforced from the eighteenth century onward, as Russia emerged as a decisive actor in European affairs—defeating Napoleon, shaping the Concert of Europe, and playing a central role in both World Wars. Even Soviet revolutionary internationalism, cloaked in Communist lexicon, can be read as a secular continuation of Russia’s messianic impulse.
To retreat from Ukraine today would be, in Putin’s eyes, an abdication of Russia’s historic responsibility. Russia’s leaders believe that greatness demands endurance, even at immense cost. The paradox is stark: economic fragility erodes the foundations of great-power status, yet the pursuit of greatness compels policies that deepen that fragility. President Donald Trump’s willingness to engage Russia, seek peace in Ukraine, and explore pathways for reintegration into the Western fold have rekindled hope in Moscow.
In recent years, an unexpected convergence has also emerged between segments of the American Right and Russia. Disillusioned with liberal universalism, secularism, and cultural permissiveness, some American conservatives have been drawn to Russia’s emphasis on tradition, family values, sovereignty, and Orthodox Christianity.
Trump’s attempt to reimagine Russia as a partner, however, faces fierce resistance in Washington and Europe, casting a long shadow over his Ukraine diplomacy. For Moscow, the costs of war continue to mount. Sanctions and prolonged isolation have battered an already fragile economy, sharpening the contradiction between Russia’s imperial self-image and its material constraints. As the Ukraine peace process gathers momentum, Delhi must look beyond sentiment and nostalgia to craft a policy that is rooted in an appreciation of Russia’s layered history and its complex, often ambivalent relationship with the West.