Emmanuel Macron has a type. He likes grand gestures, strategic autonomy, and selling very expensive French hardware to countries that are tired of being told what to do by Washington.

His latest trip to India wasn’t just about the parades or the photo ops in Jaipur. It was a sales pitch wrapped in a lecture. Macron called India’s demand to co-produce the Rafale fighter jet "legitimate." In the polite, coded world of international diplomacy, that’s French for "we’re willing to hand over the blueprints if you keep the checks coming."

It’s a gamble. India isn’t looking for a retail relationship anymore. They don’t want to just buy the box; they want to know how the wires are soldered inside. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s "Make in India" initiative has moved past the slogan phase and into the "we won’t sign the contract unless you build a factory in Noida" phase. For Dassault Aviation, the makers of the Rafale, this is a headache. You don't just export a supply chain for a delta-wing multirole combat aircraft like you’re opening a franchised McDonald's. It takes years. It takes specialized labor. It takes giving away the crown jewels of French engineering.

But Macron doesn't have much of a choice.

While he’s nodding along to India’s demands, he’s also looking over his shoulder at a Europe that can’t seem to decide what its own defense looks like. Macron’s refrain is familiar: Europe needs to stop relying on the U.S. for its security. He’s tired of seeing European neighbors buy F-35s from Lockheed Martin as if they’re picking up the latest iPhone. To Macron, every American jet sold in Europe is a failure of continental imagination.

The friction here is the price of admission. India is eyeing a massive deal for 26 Rafale-M jets for its navy, a contract that could easily push past the $6 billion mark depending on how many spare engines and flight simulators get tacked onto the bill. But the real friction isn't the sticker price. It’s the "Transfer of Technology." India wants the "hot engine" tech—the kind of metallurgy secrets that countries usually guard with their lives.

Safran, the French engine giant, is reportedly dangling a carrot: a joint venture to develop a 110-kiloNewton engine for India’s future stealth fighters. It’s a tempting offer. But it’s also a massive trade-off. Once you teach another nation how to build a high-performance jet engine from scratch, you’ve essentially deleted your own competitive advantage. You’ve traded a permanent monopoly for a one-time windfall.

Europe, meanwhile, is watching this play out with a mix of jealousy and paralysis. Macron wants a "European defense industrial base," but that’s hard to build when half the continent is still haunted by the ghost of the Cold War and the other half is just looking for the cheapest way to keep the lights on. Germany is cautious. Eastern Europe is terrified and buying American. France is left playing the role of the lonely visionary, trying to prove that European tech is still world-class by selling it to a superpower in the making.

There’s a certain irony in Macron’s "legitimacy" comments. He’s validating India’s protectionism while simultaneously begging Europe to adopt a version of it. He wants a "Europe First" policy that looks suspiciously like France’s "strategic autonomy" with a different coat of paint. It’s a hard sell. Most European finance ministers look at the R&D costs for a sixth-generation fighter and decide they’d rather just let the Americans handle the bill.

Macron’s push for co-production in India is a survival tactic. If France can’t find enough buyers in Europe to subsidize the eye-watering costs of modern military tech, they have to find them elsewhere. India has the cash and the ambition. France has the hardware and a desperate need to stay relevant in a world where the U.S. and China are sucking all the oxygen out of the room.

The deal isn't done yet. There are still thousands of pages of fine print regarding liability, local sourcing percentages, and what happens if a French-designed, Indian-built engine fails over the Indian Ocean. The bureaucrats in New Delhi are notoriously slow, and the accountants in Paris are notoriously proud.

Macron is betting that by giving India the keys to the factory, he’s securing France’s seat at the global table. He’s betting that a stronger India, built with French tools, is better than a Europe that’s just a high-end boutique for American weapons. It’s a cynical, calculated play for long-term influence.

The question is, once India knows how to build its own Rafales, why would they ever need to call Paris again?