Geopolitics is mostly just expensive theater. Right now, the play is "Middle Power Diplomacy," and the lead actors are trying to ignore the fact that the stage is currently on fire.

Mark Carney, the man who never saw a global crisis he couldn't sound smart about, recently touched down in India. This wasn't just a casual flyover for the former central banker. It was a branding exercise. Rupak Chattopadhyay, the head of the Forum of Federations, is out here selling a vision of Canada and India as "middle powers" who need to hold hands because the rest of the world has gone mad. It’s a nice pitch. It also ignores the reality that, right now, Ottawa and New Delhi are basically communicating via megaphone and middle finger.

Let’s be real about the "middle power" label. It’s a cope. It’s what you call yourself when you’re too big to be ignored but too small to dictate the terms of the next trade war. Chattopadhyay thinks these two should be the "adults in the room" while the U.S. and China treat the global economy like a game of Jenga. But calling Canada and India "middle powers" is like saying a Ferrari and a school bus are both just "vehicles." One is a demographic juggernaut with a 7% growth rate and a chip on its shoulder; the other is a real estate bubble with a flagging productivity problem and a maple syrup obsession.

The friction here isn't just "uncertainty." It’s specific. It’s visceral. We’re talking about the assassination of Hardeep Singh Nijjar on Canadian soil and the subsequent diplomatic meltdown. We’re talking about expelled diplomats, suspended visas, and a Comprehensive Economic Partnership Agreement (CEPA) that is currently a corpse in a freezer. You can’t talk about "working together" when one side is accusing the other of state-sponsored hits and the other side is accusing the first of harboring terrorists. That’s a hell of a trade-off for a few more shipments of lentils.

Carney, of course, isn't there to talk about the mess. He’s there as the "Governor of the Universe," representing Brookfield’s massive $25 billion-plus footprint in India. For the money guys, the diplomatic spat is just noise. It’s a bug, not a feature. Carney’s visit is a Rorschach test for whether capital can outrun culture wars. He’s pushing the "uncertain times" narrative because it’s a great way to sell stability. If the U.S. goes full protectionist and China continues its slow-motion demographic collapse, Canada and India should, theoretically, be natural partners.

The math almost works. Canada has the pension funds and the natural resources; India has the digital stack and the sheer human mass. Canada wants to de-risk from China. India wants to be the world's back office and its front engine. But the cost of this "middle power" alliance is high. It requires Canada to swallow its pride on human rights and sovereignty, and it requires India to stop treating Ottawa like a noisy, irrelevant suburb of Washington.

Chattopadhyay talks about "federalism" and "shared values." That’s think-tank speak for "please stop shouting." He argues that in a multi-polar world, these two need each other to balance the scales. It sounds logical on a whiteboard in a climate-controlled room in Geneva. It feels a lot different when you’re a tech worker in Bengaluru waiting six months for a Canadian visa that used to take three weeks. Or a Canadian farmer wondering why their pulse crop exports just hit a geopolitical brick wall.

The "uncertain times" Carney and Chattopadhyay keep referencing aren't some atmospheric condition. They are the direct result of leaders deciding that domestic base-broadening is more important than global trade flows. Canada is heading into an election year where the current government is underwater and looking for a fight to look tough. India is leaning into a brand of nationalism that doesn't take kindly to being lectured by a G7 country with a smaller population than many Indian states.

So, Carney does the rounds. He talks about green energy, infrastructure, and the "massive potential" of the Indo-Pacific. He plays the role of the shadow Prime Minister, showing that even if the actual government is in the doghouse, the Canadian dollar still speaks Hindi. It’s a cynical play for a cynical era. We are told these two nations are "middle powers" destined for a great partnership, yet they can barely agree on who is allowed to fly into which airport.

If this is what the "middle power" future looks like, it looks a lot like the present: a lot of expensive suits in high-end hotel lobbies, talking over the sound of a relationship that is currently being dismantled for parts.

Does a "middle power" alliance actually exist if the diplomats aren't on speaking terms, or is it just a way for investment bankers to keep the lights on while the politicians burn the house down?