In international geopolitics, however, a week can feel like an eternity—and a few months can alter the entire balance of power. In 2017, during his first term, it was none other than Donald Trump who revived the Quadrilateral Security Dialogue—or the Quad—comprising India, Japan, Australia, and the United States. Often described as an “Asian NATO,” the Quad was envisioned as a strategic framework to counter China’s expanding influence and coercive behavior in the Indo-Pacific.

The initiative became one of Trump’s signature foreign policy legacies. His successor, Joe Biden, elevated it further by holding the first-ever Quad leaders’ summit, framing it as a central pillar of the U.S. Indo-Pacific strategy. Yet, in an ironic twist of geopolitics, Trump’s second term—barely months old—now threatens to undo the very framework he helped resurrect.

Trump’s return to the White House began on a promising note for the Quad. Within 24 hours of his inauguration, his Secretary of State, Marco Rubio, hosted the grouping’s foreign ministers, signaling Washington’s continued commitment to the Indo-Pacific alliance. Another ministerial meeting followed in July, underscoring early optimism about renewed cooperation.

But the momentum has since dissipated. India was slated to host the next Quad summit in November, yet reports from diplomatic sources suggest that Trump is unlikely to attend. In his absence, the meeting may be canceled altogether.

The uncertainty reflects a deeper malaise: the deteriorating U.S.-India relationship. In the span of a few months, Washington and New Delhi have drifted to their lowest point in two decades.

The chill began after Trump hosted Pakistani military ruler Field Marshal Asim Munir at the White House in June—barely a month after the India-Pakistan border clashes in May. The optics of welcoming Islamabad’s general so soon after a military conflict with New Delhi were interpreted in India as a calculated snub.

Then came the tariffs. At 50 percent, the Trump administration has imposed the highest duties on Indian goods of any nation. The two countries have yet to finalize a trade agreement, and the tariffs have crippled key sectors of India’s export economy, from pharmaceuticals to textiles.

Unless the U.S. reverses these measures and reaches a trade accord, the bilateral relationship appears unlikely to stabilize. And without that foundation, the broader Quad structure—dependent on U.S.-India cooperation—cannot thrive.

India and the United States are the twin pillars of the Quad, representing not only its largest economies and militaries but also its strategic rationale. Together, they form the Indo-Pacific’s northern and western anchors, bridging the Indian Ocean and the Pacific Rim. Losing India would mean the Quad loses its geographical balance and moral legitimacy.

Recent developments suggest that the U.S. might be exploring an alternate configuration—one that tacitly sidelines India.

On November 1, U.S. Secretary of War Pete Hegseth met with the defense ministers of Japan, Australia, and the Philippines in Kuala Lumpur. This was his second meeting with the same grouping this year. The joint statement issued afterward sounded strikingly similar to traditional Quad communiqués.

“The ministers reiterated their serious concern regarding China’s destabilizing actions in the East China Sea and the South China Sea, and their strong opposition to any unilateral attempts to change the status quo by force or coercion,” the statement read.

It further emphasized respect for international law and reaffirmed that the 2016 South China Sea Arbitral Award is “final and legally binding.”

More importantly, the ministers announced the creation of a new framework—the Indo-Pacific Chiefs of Defense Cooperation Council—and endorsed joint military exercises, including BALIKATAN 2026, to be hosted by the Philippines with participation from all four nations.

While these countries have convened similar meetings before, the timing and tone of this latest gathering—at a moment when the Quad summit is uncertain—has fueled speculation that Washington is positioning Manila as a possible replacement or at least a signal to New Delhi that its presence is not indispensable.

Yet, such a pivot would carry enormous strategic risks. Replacing India with the Philippines would fundamentally alter the Quad’s identity—from a pan-continental coalition to a Pacific-centered bloc—undermining the U.S.’s decade-long vision of an “Indo-Pacific” order.

India’s significance to the Quad cannot be measured merely in demographics, economics, or military might—though those factors are formidable. With 1.4 billion people, the world’s fourth-largest economy, and one of its most capable armed forces, India’s inclusion gives the Quad both strategic depth and geographic coherence.

More importantly, India bridges the Indian Ocean and Pacific theaters, turning what was once the “Asia-Pacific” into a true Indo-Pacific framework. Without New Delhi, the very terminology loses meaning.

To appreciate this, one must revisit the evolution of America’s regional strategy. Around 2013, during the Obama years, U.S. policymakers began shifting from the “Asia-Pacific” label to “Indo-Pacific.” This subtle linguistic change carried deep strategic implications—it acknowledged India’s central role in balancing China and recognized the Indian Ocean’s growing importance in global trade and security.

The term gained traction under Obama but became institutionalized during Trump’s first term. In 2017, his administration formally adopted “Indo-Pacific” as the cornerstone of U.S. regional policy, replacing the earlier “pivot to Asia.” The same year, the Trump White House revived the Quad after nearly a decade of dormancy.

That dual evolution was no coincidence. The Quad’s rebirth and the Indo-Pacific narrative were intertwined—both hinged on India’s inclusion.

As C. Raja Mohan, one of India’s leading strategic thinkers, once observed, “The Indo-Pacific construct without India is a body without a soul.”

The Quad’s power lies in its balance: Japan and Australia anchor the Pacific side; India secures the Indian Ocean flank; the United States provides the connective tissue—diplomatic, technological, and military—that binds the alliance.

Without India, that symmetry collapses. The grouping risks reverting to a Pacific-only focus, resembling older Cold War alliances like SEATO—ineffective, fragmented, and lacking legitimacy in South and Southeast Asia.

Moreover, India’s absence would undermine the Quad’s normative appeal as a partnership of democracies spanning both oceans. It would reduce the grouping to a U.S.-led containment coalition rather than a shared vision for a “free and open Indo-Pacific.”

From maritime domain awareness to supply chain resilience, cyber cooperation, and disaster response, India’s participation brings both strategic weight and moral credibility. Its leadership in forums such as the Indian Ocean Rim Association and the Global South amplifies the Quad’s reach and legitimacy.

Trump’s renewed emphasis on “America First” appears to be narrowing U.S. strategic focus to transactional gains. This approach may deliver short-term domestic political benefits but risks long-term erosion of regional partnerships painstakingly built over decades.

The current downturn in U.S.-India relations—and the potential sidelining of the Quad—illustrates the dangers of such unilateralism.

As Arzan Tarapore, a visiting fellow at Stanford’s Hoover Institution, wrote recently in Foreign Policy: “The Quad is dead, long live the Quad.” His point: the grouping’s raison d’être—ensuring regional stability amid China’s rise—remains as vital as ever. But for it to survive, the Quad must evolve beyond personalities and power politics.

For now, the Quad stands at a crossroads. If the November summit in India is indeed canceled, it will mark the first major setback in the alliance’s trajectory since its revival in 2017.

Yet, history suggests resilience. The Quad has survived dormancy before—it was shelved after 2008 and resurrected nearly a decade later. It can endure again, provided its members, especially the United States, recognize that India is not merely one of four partners but the linchpin of the entire Indo-Pacific construct.

In the end, the Quad’s fate will hinge not on slogans or summits, but on trust—trust that each member shares an equal stake in preserving a free, open, and balanced regional order.

If Washington forgets that lesson in its pursuit of short-term deals and geopolitical posturing, the “Indo-Pacific” might once again revert to being just the “Asia-Pacific”—a region without India, and an alliance without a future.

In 2020 the Trump administration gave Israel another prize. Jared Kushner brokered the Abraham Accords between Israel on one side and the United Arab Emirates, Morocco, Sudan and Bahrain. The US gave all four countries sweeteners in return for their co-operation.

They were persuaded to abandon the long-standing Arab peace initiative, that promised Israel full recognition in return for allowing Palestinians to establish their own state in Gaza, the West Bank and East Jerusalem. For Israel it amounted to a free gift.

Biden, like Trump in his first term, wanted to extend the Abraham Accords to Saudi Arabia. Recognition of Israel by the Saudis, the keeper of Islam’s two holiest shrines, the leader of the Sunni Muslim world and the richest and most powerful Arab state, would be hugely significant.

In return, the Saudis would get a comprehensive security pact with the US, which would of course include more arms deals.

It was about more than lucrative business opportunities for all concerned, though they existed and were attractive.

The rhetoric surrounding the “dangers of immigration” has long been a key tool for galvanizing political support, especially within Donald Trump’s Make America Great Again (MAGA) movement. As Trump prepares to begin his second term as President on January 20, the economic reality of the United States—and much of the developed world—compels a more nuanced approach to immigration, particularly legal and skilled immigration. This growing tension between political rhetoric and economic necessity is expected to define significant aspects of his new administration.

Already, Trump’s inner circle is engaged in heated debate on the topic. On one side is his principal advisor, tech billionaire Elon Musk, who champions the need for a robust influx of skilled immigrants to maintain the United States’ economic edge. On the other are hardliner immigration restrictionists, who continue to advocate for tightening immigration policies, citing cultural and economic concerns.

This clash is emblematic of a broader global issue: the intersection of aging populations, declining birth rates, and the need for innovative solutions to sustain economic growth in an era of “depopulation.”

The challenges facing the United States are not unique. Across the developed world, aging populations are straining economic systems, and fertility rates are failing to sustain population levels. The global working-age population is projected to decline sharply after 2070, with significant regional variations.

For instance, in 2023, only 20% of China’s population was aged 60 or older, but by 2100, this figure will soar to 52%. Similarly, Europe’s working-age population is expected to drop from 64% in 2022 to just 54.4% by 2100. Among the G7 nations, only Canada and the United States are projected to see increases in working-age populations by 2100, primarily due to immigration.

Other developed nations, such as Japan (-46%) and Italy (-52%), face catastrophic declines. These demographic shifts threaten to upend economies, strain healthcare and pension systems, and diminish global competitiveness.

Nicholas Eberstadt, a political scientist, warns that depopulation could profoundly reshape societies and economies. Writing in Foreign Affairs, Eberstadt notes that declining birth rates and aging populations will lead to fewer workers, entrepreneurs, and innovators, while increasing the burden on care systems. “Future government policy, regardless of its ambition, will not stave off depopulation,” he writes.

In this context, immigration emerges as a critical factor in maintaining economic vitality. Countries like Canada and the United States, which have historically relied on immigration to bolster their labor forces, continue to attract skilled workers. These immigrants not only fill gaps in the workforce but also bring innovation, energy, and dynamism to their adopted countries.

The U.S. semiconductor industry, for example, will require more than 160,000 engineers by 2032, according to a report by McKinsey & Company. Musk believes the actual number is likely double that estimate. He has repeatedly argued that there is a “permanent shortage of excellent engineering talent” in the United States, which poses a significant threat to Silicon Valley’s position as a global technology leader.

Despite its declining birth rate—currently at 1.67 births per woman, well below the replacement rate of 2.1—the United States has been successful in attracting young, highly-skilled workers from abroad. A survey by The Economist highlights the U.S., Canada, and Australia as the most desirable destinations for global talent.

“If there were no barriers to entry,” the survey states, “23 million graduates would move to America, 17 million to Canada, and nine million to Australia.” This reflects a stark contrast with countries like China and India, which are experiencing significant brain drain. For example, of the top 1,000 scorers on India’s elite engineering entrance exams, 36% migrate abroad, with many heading to the United States.

The U.S. has a unique advantage in its ability to attract STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) talent, which is crucial in addressing labor shortages in key industries like technology and healthcare. Musk’s advocacy for immigration aligns with this vision, as he believes that welcoming the “world’s best talent” is essential for maintaining America’s global leadership.

However, Musk’s stance has drawn sharp criticism from immigration restrictionists within Trump’s MAGA coalition. These critics argue that companies like Tesla and SpaceX should prioritize hiring American workers rather than relying on foreign talent.

Musk has countered these arguments, stating that his companies already hire Americans but face a critical shortage of skilled engineers. “If you force the world’s best talent to play for the other side,” Musk warns, “America will lose. End of story.”

His comments underscore the delicate balance Trump must strike between appeasing his political base and addressing the economic realities of a shrinking workforce.

Trump’s immigration policies during his first term focused heavily on border security and reducing illegal immigration. However, his second term may require a more sophisticated approach to skilled immigration, particularly as industries like technology, healthcare, and manufacturing grapple with labor shortages.

One potential flashpoint is the proposed removal of caps on green cards for highly-skilled workers, a policy championed by Indian-American venture capitalist Sriram Krishnan, who is expected to play a key advisory role in Trump’s administration. Krishnan argues that such reforms are necessary to attract the “best and brightest” to America, regardless of their country of origin.

Musk has endorsed Krishnan’s stance, emphasizing the importance of making America the destination of choice for top global talent. However, this approach is likely to face resistance from within Trump’s own party, where anti-immigration sentiment remains strong.

The debate over immigration in the United States is emblematic of broader global trends. Countries are increasingly competing for skilled workers, with some, like New Zealand, lowering visa restrictions to attract talent. Meanwhile, depopulation and declining fertility rates in countries like China, Japan, and much of Europe are reshaping the global workforce.

Technology and automation are likely to play a role in mitigating labor shortages, but they cannot fully replace the need for skilled workers. As such, immigration will remain a key strategy for sustaining economic growth in the decades to come.

When Justin Trudeau was first elected in 2015, he arrived as a symbol of hope and optimism. His “sunny ways” approach inspired a nation weary of a decade-long Conservative government. However, nine years into his tenure, Trudeau faces his most daunting and uncertain political moment. The Liberal leader’s ambitions to win a rare fourth term are mired in bitter public dissatisfaction, internal dissent, and a threat from a resurgent separatist movement. Analysts and political insiders say Trudeau’s future is increasingly precarious, with even loyalists questioning his viability as a leader.

This week, nearly two dozen Liberal backbenchers sent an open letter calling for Trudeau to step aside, fearing his dwindling popularity could lead the party to a devastating defeat in the next election. The letter, coming just days after a “code red” petition demanded a secret ballot vote on Trudeau’s leadership, has underscored the discontent within his party.

Nevertheless, Trudeau remains defiant. Speaking to reporters, he affirmed he still had the backing of a majority of the 153 Liberal MPs in the House of Commons, insisting that any “robust conversations” on the party’s direction would continue “with me as leader going into the next election.”

But Trudeau’s resolve has not silenced the criticism within his ranks. Political analysts believe that Trudeau’s party, typically unified and disciplined, is feeling the weight of public discontent after nearly a decade in power.

“The prime minister and his team must be feeling the heat from within,” said Scott Reid, a former political adviser to Liberal prime minister Paul Martin. “For every MP who’s willing to voice their concerns, there are likely several more who are harboring doubts but don’t yet have the courage to speak out. This is an iceberg revolt—what we’re seeing is only the tip, with potentially much more beneath the surface.”

Canada has a well-established political tradition: once a leader claims the top job, they rarely relinquish it voluntarily. In the absence of formal mechanisms to oust a prime minister, Canada’s political structure leaves the decision up to party leaders themselves, as seen with Trudeau’s tenacity despite the recent pressure.

“The kind of personality that makes it to prime minister is, by nature, incredibly persistent,” said Reid. “The sense of belief needed to become prime minister is often matched by an unwillingness to simply walk away. That applies to Trudeau as much as it has to past leaders.”

Trudeau’s resilience could be attributed, in part, to the lack of a clear successor within the Liberal Party. Former Bank of England governor Mark Carney has hinted at ambitions for higher office, but without concrete plans. Foreign Minister Mélanie Joly has built significant influence, especially in her home province of Quebec, and Public Safety Minister Dominic LeBlanc is known for his political instincts. Yet none of these figures have openly indicated an interest in leading the party, which leaves the Liberal party’s future uncertain.

According to Reid, any potential leadership race would be fraught with challenges. After nearly a decade in power, the Liberal Party would face an uphill battle to convey vigor and a sense of renewal to voters, regardless of who they fielded as a candidate.

“A leadership race, no matter how open or enthusiastic, will still have to grapple with public perceptions of the Liberals as an aging government,” said Reid. “And given the current climate, that’s not an easy sell.”

For Trudeau, the stakes are particularly high because, as polls indicate, public dissatisfaction appears to be deeply linked to his personal leadership. As Reid points out, Trudeau has become a “lightning rod” for discontent in a way that has hampered his government’s ability to rally public support or pivot its image.

“Polling shows that public frustration with the government is so closely tied to Trudeau himself that it’s almost impossible to extricate the two,” said Reid. “For many, their criticism of his government has morphed into personal disdain for the prime minister.”

A recent CBC poll tracker underscores the severity of Trudeau’s predicament, showing the Liberals trailing the Conservative Party by nearly 20 points—a deficit that is nearly unprecedented for a sitting government. For political analyst Éric Grenier, the poll’s numbers paint a stark picture of voter sentiment.

“In the past, even unpopular governments have rarely fallen this far behind in polling,” said Grenier. “What’s different now is the consistency of this trend. It’s not one scandal or crisis causing this dissatisfaction; it’s a cumulative effect from years in office, one that’s slowly eroding public trust.”

Trudeau’s political troubles extend beyond internal criticism. This week, Yves-François Blanchet, the leader of the separatist Bloc Québécois, renewed a longstanding threat to topple Trudeau’s minority government. The Bloc has demanded increased old-age security payments for seniors, warning that the Liberals’ failure to meet this condition would prompt the party to forge alliances with opposition factions to call an election.

“Trudeau’s days are numbered,” Blanchet told reporters on Tuesday, a pointed comment that has renewed discussions of an early election. For Blanchet, Trudeau’s unpopularity and eroding influence in Quebec could offer the Bloc an opportunity to position itself as a powerful voice for the province in Parliament.

The Bloc’s ultimatum represents an additional layer of complexity for Trudeau, who has already struggled to maintain his party’s base in Quebec. Quebec remains a critical region for the Liberals, and any significant losses in the province would cripple the party’s ability to mount a viable campaign in the next election.

Historically, Canadian leaders who attempt to win a fourth term face nearly insurmountable odds. The last leader to pull off this feat was Sir Wilfrid Laurier in 1908, a testament to how challenging it is to maintain public support for that length of time.

“Securing three terms is a rare achievement on its own, but to try for a fourth as an incumbent leader is incredibly difficult,” said Grenier. “The odds were always stacked against him even before the recent wave of discontent within his party and among the public.”

For Trudeau, Grenier argues, the appeal that catapulted him into power in 2015 has waned as the electorate’s demands have evolved. Policies that once appealed to voters seeking change from the Conservative rule no longer resonate in the same way, and the criticism of Trudeau’s perceived lack of responsiveness and failure to enact change only adds fuel to the opposition.

As Trudeau braces for what could be his toughest political fight, he faces significant challenges on multiple fronts. Internally, he must contend with a party caucus that is divided over his leadership. Externally, he faces mounting public dissatisfaction and the prospect of opposition parties—particularly the Conservatives and Bloc Québécois—rallying for an election in which he would be a major underdog.

Some political insiders have speculated that Trudeau may try to hold off an election until 2025, the latest possible date, giving him a window to address some of the concerns that have disillusioned his base. However, even this delay strategy is fraught with risk.

“The longer Trudeau waits, the more he risks these pressures building into an insurmountable wave,” said Reid. “If he can turn things around, he might be able to buy time, but given the Bloc’s intentions and the rumblings in his own caucus, that’s far from guaranteed.”

Adding to the uncertainty is the potential for future crises, economic issues, or shifts in international relations that could either bolster or further weaken Trudeau’s position. As inflation and cost-of-living issues persist, public perception of Trudeau as an effective leader is already strained. In the coming months, his ability to address these pressing concerns could determine his political survival.