Diplomacy is just high-stakes theater with better catering.

Last week in New Delhi, the stage was set for a bromance forged in the fires of protectionist trade policies and shared resentment of the Western status quo. Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva and Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi sat down for lunch, and things got performative.

The highlight, according to the official readouts, wasn't the trade deficit or the stalled Mercosur deal. It was a musical tribute. Lula was reportedly "very touched." A veteran politician who has survived prison, political resurrection, and the grueling chaos of Brasilia, allegedly moved to tears by a melody. Maybe it was the sitar. Maybe it was the air conditioning. Or maybe it was the sheer relief of being in a room where nobody was asking him about the Amazon’s deforestation rates for five minutes.

We’re supposed to buy into this. The narrative is that these two giants of the so-called Global South are harmonizing, literally and figuratively. It’s a nice story. It’s also a total distraction from the cold, hard friction of two emerging tech powers trying to occupy the same narrow space in the global supply chain.

Let’s look at the hardware. India wants to be the world’s back office and its factory floor. Modi is pushing "Make in India" with a zeal that borders on the religious. Meanwhile, Lula is trying to re-industrialize a Brazil that spent the last decade hollowed out by commodity swings. They aren't just partners; they're competitors for the same VC-style sovereign investment.

They sat there, nodding to the music, while their respective trade departments fought over the fine print of the India-Mercosur Preferential Trade Agreement. Brazil wants India to slash the 30% import duty on its ethanol. India, meanwhile, is busy protecting its own sugar lobby—a voting bloc so powerful it makes the US corn lobby look like a bake sale. That’s the real soundtrack: the sound of doors slamming on $1.5 billion in potential agricultural exports because local politics always beats global vibes.

Then there’s the tech stack. India is obsessed with exporting its "Digital Public Infrastructure." They want the world to run on UPI (Unified Payments Interface). Brazil, however, already has Pix. Pix is fast, it’s free, and it’s arguably the most successful central bank-led digital payment system on the planet. Lula doesn't need Modi’s code. He needs Modi’s market. But India doesn't want to buy Brazilian airplanes or software; it wants to build its own versions of them, preferably with government subsidies that make the WTO break out in hives.

The lunch wasn't cheap. Hosting a world leader in New Delhi involves a level of logistical theater that costs millions of rupees in security, street-clearing, and floral arrangements. All that for a "touching" musical moment that will be clipped for Instagram and X, then forgotten by the time the private jets hit cruising altitude.

It’s the classic soft-power play. If you can’t agree on the price of sugar or the licensing of satellite spectrum, you bring out the musicians. It creates the illusion of momentum. It’s "strategic depth" rebranded as a Spotify playlist.

Lula is a master of this. He knows how to play the elder statesman of the developing world. He knows that appearing "touched" by Indian culture plays well back home with his base, who see him as a global player. Modi knows it makes him look like the gracious host of the new world order. It’s a win-win for their PR teams.

But back in the real world, the friction remains. India is still cozying up to the Quad while Brazil tries to keep China—its largest trading partner—from getting jealous. They are two countries trying to hedge their bets against a declining West while simultaneously trying to avoid becoming vassals of a rising East. That’s a difficult dance to perform, even with a live band.

The music was probably beautiful. The musicians were undoubtedly world-class. But when the plates are cleared and the "emotional" resonance fades, the math stays the same. Brazil is still stuck behind a wall of Indian tariffs, and India is still looking for ways to bypass Brazilian raw materials.

You can tell a lot about the health of a geopolitical relationship by how much they talk about "culture" during the press conference. If they’re talking about semiconductor fabrication or joint naval exercises, things are serious. If they’re talking about how "touched" they were by a song, someone’s getting fleeced.

How much does a lunch like that actually cost when you factor in the $2 billion trade gap neither side is willing to blink on?