Coin Press - India's island choke point

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India's island choke point




The language of revenge makes for an arresting headline, but it obscures the more consequential story unfolding on Great Nicobar. India is not constructing a mechanism that can simply be activated to halt Chinese trade. It is attempting to convert a remote and sparsely developed island into a forward maritime hub from which it can observe strategic shipping routes, support naval and air operations and, in a serious crisis, make Chinese access to the Indian Ocean more difficult and expensive.

Great Nicobar is the southernmost large island in India’s Andaman and Nicobar archipelago. It lies closer to Indonesia than to the Indian mainland and sits near the approaches to the Strait of Malacca, one of the most important maritime passages in the world. The island is also approximately forty nautical miles from a heavily used east-west shipping corridor. That geography gives Great Nicobar a significance far greater than its size or population might suggest. Vessels travelling between the Indian Ocean, Southeast Asia and the South China Sea must pass through a limited number of navigable channels. The Strait of Malacca remains the principal commercial route because alternatives through the Sunda and Lombok straits generally require longer voyages, more fuel and additional time.

For China, whose economic strength depends heavily on seaborne exports, raw materials and imported energy, this is a persistent strategic vulnerability. For India, the same geography offers an opportunity to transform an isolated territory into an advanced observation, logistics and deterrence platform.

A nine-billion-dollar transformation
The Great Nicobar development programme is commonly described as an investment worth roughly nine billion dollars, although its estimated cost has changed as the plans have been revised. The wider programme is currently valued at approximately 81,000 crore rupees and covers around 166 square kilometres.
It combines four interconnected projects. The first is a deep-water international container transhipment port at Galathea Bay. The second is a new airport intended for both civilian and military use. The third is a gas and solar power complex with a planned capacity of 450 megavolt-amperes. The fourth is a new township with roads, water systems, communications, public services and industrial infrastructure.

The initial two phases of the proposed port were appraised in 2026 at a combined cost of 48,862 crore rupees. They are designed to provide twelve container berths and an annual handling capacity of 11.8 million twenty-foot equivalent units. Longer-term plans could expand the port still further. Natural water depths of between twenty and thirty metres are among Galathea Bay’s most important commercial advantages. They could allow the terminal to receive the largest modern container ships without the severe draught restrictions encountered at many existing Indian ports.

The new airport is equally significant. With an estimated investment of around 13,000 crore rupees, it is intended to accommodate civilian aircraft as well as military transports, maritime patrol aircraft and combat aircraft. Operational control is expected to rest with the Indian Navy, giving New Delhi a much larger aviation platform in the south-eastern Indian Ocean than is available at the existing airfield on the island.
The port, airport and power facilities therefore cannot be understood as separate construction schemes. Together, they are intended to create the permanent logistical foundation required for sustained economic and military activity.

India wants its cargo back
The commercial argument behind the project is substantial. India has historically routed a large share of its container transhipment traffic through foreign ports, particularly Colombo, Singapore and Port Klang. Containers arriving on large intercontinental vessels are frequently transferred at those hubs to smaller feeder ships serving Indian destinations.

That arrangement costs India revenue, creates dependence on infrastructure outside its jurisdiction and reduces its influence over regional shipping networks. A competitive deep-water terminal at Great Nicobar could intercept cargo moving between the Indian Ocean and East Asia while serving ports on India’s eastern coast, Bangladesh, Myanmar and other parts of Southeast Asia. The location is attractive, but geography alone does not create a successful port. Shipping companies choose terminals according to price, reliability, vessel turnaround times, customs efficiency, digital systems, frequency of feeder connections and the availability of repair, storage and bunkering services. Galathea Bay will have to compete not only with Singapore, Colombo and Port Klang but also with emerging Indian facilities such as Vizhinjam.

The financial structure reveals how difficult that competition may be. The first two port phases have been designed as a public-private partnership, with Indian-controlled ownership and a proposed concession period of fifty years. Project planners sought viability-gap assistance of 12,230 crore rupees to reduce the risk for private investors. Financial appraisers concluded that the requested support did not fit the standard viability-gap funding framework. The ports ministry may therefore have to provide capital assistance from its own budget or seek a separate political decision. This is a crucial detail. It suggests that Great Nicobar’s strategic value may justify public expenditure that would be difficult to defend on commercial returns alone.
In other words, the port is not merely a business venture. It is strategic infrastructure with a commercial component.

What the island changes for China
The most immediate military benefit would be improved maritime domain awareness. Radar installations, long-range aircraft, drones, naval vessels and intelligence systems based closer to the Malacca approaches would give India a clearer picture of movements between the western Pacific and the Indian Ocean. Chinese naval deployments in the Indian Ocean have become more regular over the past two decades. Warships assigned to anti-piracy patrols, survey vessels, submarines and support ships have all demonstrated Beijing’s growing ability to operate far from the Chinese coastline. Access to ports developed or operated by Chinese companies has also increased Beijing’s logistical options across the region.

A fully equipped Great Nicobar hub would allow India to monitor those movements from a much more advantageous position. It could support patrol aircraft for longer periods, shorten response times and provide fuel, maintenance and communications closer to the principal maritime routes. This does not mean that India could effortlessly close the Strait of Malacca. The expression “choking Beijing” is strategically evocative but operationally misleading. The strait is bordered by Malaysia, Indonesia and Singapore. India does not control it, and any attempt to block commercial shipping would constitute an extraordinary act with global economic and military consequences. Maintaining an effective blockade against a major power would require persistent naval and air superiority, extensive intelligence, secure logistics and cooperation from other states.

Great Nicobar is therefore not a switch with which India can turn off Chinese trade. Its importance lies in deterrence and strategic uncertainty. It could increase the number of assets China would need to protect its sea lanes, make covert naval movement more difficult and force Beijing to devote greater attention to the eastern Indian Ocean.
Alternative Chinese routes do exist. Ships can use the Sunda or Lombok straits, while pipelines through Myanmar and overland corridors through Pakistan provide limited diversification. None of them can easily replace the scale, efficiency and established commercial networks associated with the Malacca route. India does not need the ability to stop every Chinese vessel to gain leverage. It needs the credible capacity to observe movements, complicate operations and impose additional costs during a confrontation.

A forward base must also survive
Building runways, quays and radar stations is only the beginning. A remote installation becomes strategically valuable only when it can continue operating under pressure.

Great Nicobar will require secure fuel storage, ammunition facilities, maintenance depots, air-defence systems, hardened aircraft shelters, redundant communications and dependable supply links. It must also be protected against submarine activity, missile attacks, cyber disruption and sabotage. The island’s distance from India’s main industrial and military centres creates a logistical challenge. Personnel, spare parts, construction materials and emergency supplies must travel long distances by sea or air. Severe weather can interrupt those connections, while the narrow local infrastructure base leaves little room for failure.

A highly visible airport and port without adequate protection could become targets rather than instruments of leverage. The strategic value of Great Nicobar will consequently depend less on ceremonial inaugurations than on the unglamorous systems that keep aircraft flying, ships supplied and sensors functioning during a crisis.
The project could also assist India in humanitarian relief and disaster response. A major airport, deep-water port and permanent logistics network would provide a forward base for operations after cyclones, earthquakes or tsunamis across Southeast Asia. Such capabilities would strengthen India’s claim to be a dependable regional security partner rather than merely a country seeking military advantage over China.

The ecological price cannot be hidden
Great Nicobar is not an empty piece of territory. It contains tropical rainforest, mangroves, coral habitats and numerous endemic species. Galathea Bay is associated with the nesting grounds of giant leatherback turtles, while the island is also home to the Nicobar megapode, saltwater crocodiles and other vulnerable wildlife. The project involves the diversion of approximately 130.75 square kilometres of forest land. Estimates indicate that close to one million trees could eventually be affected, although the government maintains that significant green areas will remain within the wider development zone.

Authorities have imposed dozens of environmental conditions and planned compensatory afforestation covering more than ninety-seven square kilometres. The government also argues that the large majority of Great Nicobar will remain within forests, national parks, protected areas, a biosphere reserve and tribal conservation zones. The National Green Tribunal declined to stop the development in February 2026, concluding that there was no sufficient basis for overturning the existing environmental and coastal clearances. It nevertheless required strict compliance with the protective conditions.

The ruling did not eliminate the underlying concerns. An island rainforest is a complex and isolated ecosystem that cannot simply be recreated through tree planting elsewhere. Forest loss can alter freshwater systems, coastal stability and wildlife migration even when a large percentage of the island formally remains protected.

There is also a profound human dimension. Great Nicobar is home to the Nicobarese and the Shompen, one of the world’s most isolated indigenous communities. The government says the project will not physically displace them and has promised dedicated safeguards. The greater danger may arise from indirect contact. A large influx of construction workers, officials, traders and future residents could expose isolated communities to disease, cultural disruption and pressure on traditional territory. Preventing direct displacement will not be sufficient if the surrounding social and ecological conditions are transformed beyond recognition.

A landscape shaped by disaster
The island lies in a seismically active region. The Indian Ocean tsunami of 2004 devastated Great Nicobar, destroyed settlements and caused severe land subsidence at its southern end. Any new airport, port, power plant and township must therefore be designed for conditions far more demanding than those facing ordinary mainland infrastructure. Breakwaters, evacuation routes, emergency power systems, elevated storage, earthquake-resistant construction and redundant communications will all be essential. The financial cost of such resilience is high, but ignoring it would expose the entire programme to catastrophic failure.

Environmental protection and disaster planning are not secondary obstacles to the strategic project. They are part of its strategic credibility. A port delayed by legal challenges, damaged by a natural disaster or surrounded by social conflict would weaken rather than strengthen India’s position.

The project is not yet a finished weapon
The most important distinction is between ambition and operational reality. Great Nicobar is not currently capable of controlling the Malacca approaches on the scale suggested by dramatic descriptions of the project. In March 2026, the relevant public-private partnership committee recommended the first two port phases for further administrative consideration, subject to financial, contractual and ownership conditions. The airport had entered initial tendering, while the power plant and township remained at different stages of appraisal and approval.

The latest public timetable indicates that physical work on the Galathea Bay port is expected to begin in 2028. That schedule is later than earlier expectations that an initial port phase might already be operating by that year. Even after construction begins, completing the full island transformation will require many years and potentially several decades. Financing, private-sector participation, environmental monitoring, supply-chain constraints and construction in a remote seismic location could all affect the schedule. Cost escalation is also likely to remain a concern as designs become more detailed.

China will not stand still during that period. Beijing can strengthen alternative routes, expand naval deployments, increase cooperation with regional ports and develop capabilities intended to threaten Indian installations. Great Nicobar is therefore part of a continuing strategic competition rather than a final answer to it.

India’s real revenge is strategic patience
Describing the Great Nicobar project as India’s revenge on China captures the emotional appeal of a country turning geography against its principal Asian rival. Yet revenge is not the most accurate description. The project is better understood as an attempt to correct a long-standing imbalance. India possesses an island chain overlooking some of the world’s busiest sea routes, but for decades much of that geographical advantage remained underdeveloped. Great Nicobar represents an effort to convert position into capability.

Success will not be measured by whether India can literally stop Chinese shipping. It will be measured by whether the island gives New Delhi reliable surveillance, faster military response, commercially viable port operations and a resilient logistics network without inflicting irreversible damage on the people and ecosystems already there.

If those conditions are met, Great Nicobar could become one of India’s most consequential strategic investments. It would not choke Beijing in peacetime, but it could make China’s leaders think more carefully about the risks of confrontation in the Indian Ocean. That additional calculation is the true source of India’s leverage.



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Long live Ukraine - Хай живе Україна - Да здравствует Украина

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Stargate project, Trump and the AI war...

In a dramatic return to the global political stage, former President Donald J. Trump, as the current 47th President of the United States of America, has unveiled his latest initiative, the so-called ‘Stargate Project,’ in a bid to cement the United States’ dominance in artificial intelligence and outpace China’s meteoric rise in the field. The newly announced programme, cloaked in patriotic rhetoric and ambitious targets, is already stirring intense debate over the future of technological competition between the world’s two largest economies.According to preliminary statements from Trump’s team, the Stargate Project will consolidate the efforts of leading American tech conglomerates, defence contractors, and research universities under a centralised framework. The former president, who has long championed American exceptionalism, claims this approach will provide the United States with a decisive advantage, enabling rapid breakthroughs in cutting-edge AI applications ranging from military strategy to commercial innovation.“America must remain the global leader in technology—no ifs, no buts,” Trump declared at a recent press conference. “China has been trying to surpass us in AI, but with this new project, we will make sure the future remains ours.”Details regarding funding and governance remain scarce, but early indications suggest the initiative will rely heavily on public-private partnerships, tax incentives for research and development, and collaboration with high-profile venture capital firms. Skeptics, however, warn that the endeavour could fan the flames of an increasingly militarised AI race, raising ethical concerns about surveillance, automation of warfare, and data privacy. Critics also question whether the initiative can deliver on its lofty promises, especially in the face of existing economic and geopolitical pressures.Yet for its supporters, the Stargate Project serves as a rallying cry for renewed American leadership and an antidote to worries over China’s technological ascendancy. Proponents argue that accelerating AI research is paramount if the United States wishes to preserve not just military supremacy, but also the economic and cultural influence that has typified its global role for decades.Whether this bold project will succeed—or if it will devolve into a symbolic gesture—remains to be seen. What is certain, however, is that the Stargate Project has already reignited debate about how best to safeguard America’s strategic future and maintain the balance of power in the fast-evolving arena of artificial intelligence.

Europe’s arms money maze

Europe’s rearmament has acquired an uncomfortable companion: uncertainty about what the money actually buys. In Germany, an argument over defence-related borrowing has raised questions about whether exceptional debt is producing genuinely additional expenditure. In Estonia, unreliable inventory records and disputed ammunition contracts have brought ministerial accountability into the foreground. These are different problems, but they meet at the same point: a larger budget is not a reliable measure of a stronger defence.The contention that nobody knows what is happening to Europe’s weapons money goes too far. Budgets are published, procurement bodies operate and auditors are identifying failures. Nor do these cases establish that funds have disappeared into Russian hands or that the Kremlin engineered the difficulties. The more defensible conclusion is also more useful: Europe cannot judge rearmament by the volume of money announced. It must establish what has been purchased, accepted and made ready for use.That distinction matters strategically. An adversary need not steal the money to benefit from delays, unusable equipment or a loss of confidence in the governments spending it.What the €800 billion actually meansThe scale of the spending is substantial. Combined defence expenditure across the European Union reached €418 billion in 2025, with €454 billion estimated for 2026. Those annual totals should not be confused with the much larger, multi-year headline attached to the EU’s rearmament financing plan. The widely cited €800 billion is potential financing capacity, not a single fund already transferred to arms manufacturers. Its main components are approximately €650 billion in possible additional national expenditure enabled by fiscal flexibility over four years, and €150 billion in loans through the Security Action for Europe instrument, known as SAFE. The loans must be repaid; the additional national spending depends on governments choosing to use the available room.These distinctions are indispensable to any honest assessment. Permission to borrow is not an order placed with a factory. An order is not a completed delivery. Equipment delivered to a warehouse is not necessarily equipment that troops can operate, maintain and replenish. Treating all these stages as interchangeable allows governments to claim progress before the military benefit exists.It also creates a temptation to add together figures that describe different periods or overlapping flows of money. A credible account of rearmament should distinguish financing arrangements from annual expenditure, and both from verified outputs. Otherwise, the public is left comparing impressive totals whose practical meaning is unclear.Germany’s argument over additional spendingOn 10 September, the Ifo Institute challenged the use of Germany’s defence-related borrowing exemption. It calculated an €11 billion gap between additional borrowing and the year-on-year increase in the relevant expenditure. Ifo’s argument was that 38.5 per cent of the additional debt had not produced additional defence and security spending, instead freeing room for other purposes in the ordinary budget. The Finance Ministry rejected the comparison as legally and methodologically flawed. The exemption concerns qualifying expenditure above one per cent of gross domestic product, rather than an increase over the previous year. Ifo, for its part, said its analysis concerned additional spending, not constitutionality.This is not evidence that €11 billion was stolen. It is a dispute over the relationship between an exceptional borrowing mechanism and the political expectation attached to it. The difference is important: an arrangement can comply with its legal design while delivering less additional expenditure than citizens understand the announcement to promise.The practical question is whether new borrowing expands defence capacity or changes the way existing commitments are financed. Those outcomes can coexist within the same budget. Refinancing an established obligation may be lawful and fiscally useful, but it should not be presented as though an equivalent amount of new military capability has been purchased. Germany’s dispute therefore points to a straightforward transparency test. Governments should identify the expenditure that would have occurred anyway, the genuinely additional commitments and the delivery milestones attached to them. Without that comparison, the argument risks becoming a contest between accounting definitions while the central question—what the armed forces actually gain—remains unanswered.Estonia’s warning from the accountsIn Estonia, the problems are more immediate. Defence Minister Hanno Pevkur announced on 2 September that he would step down, accepting political responsibility for failures exposed in defence administration and procurement. His announcement did not amount to an admission of personal corruption.The National Audit Office issued a qualified opinion concerning defence inventories valued at approximately €1.2 billion because their quantities, composition and valuation could not be established reliably. It also questioned an unexplained retrospective adjustment of €99.7 million to the previous year’s inventory figures. That does not mean €1.2 billion of weapons has vanished. An unreliable balance is not the same thing as a proven loss. It means the records are insufficiently dependable to establish what the balance represents—a serious weakness in any organisation, and particularly consequential in one responsible for military readiness.Inadequate records can obstruct decisions long before a final financial loss is demonstrated. Commanders and purchasing authorities need to distinguish usable stock from equipment awaiting inspection, repair or replacement. If those categories are unclear, another procurement decision may rest on a mistaken understanding of what is already available.Auditing is therefore more than an exercise in retrospective blame. A trustworthy inventory helps determine what must be bought next, how urgently it is needed and whether previous purchases fulfilled their purpose. Poor accounting can undermine operational planning even where no theft is established.Paid for is not the same as usableEstonia’s ammunition procurement for Ukraine illustrates a second difficulty. The audit identified disputed advance payments and warned of a potential exposure to the state budget of around €70 million. That figure describes a risk, not a final, adjudicated loss.The controversy includes contracts involving the Italian company Datasel. Pevkur described ammunition delivered under the disputed arrangements as incomplete and of insufficient quality, rather than simply non-existent. Datasel disputes the criticism and has said that goods delivered and invoiced were worth approximately €58 million against about €59 million in advances. The company’s account is a contested position, not a judicial finding.The disagreement exposes a distinction that matters beyond this particular supplier. A payment record, an invoice, the physical presence of goods and acceptance of those goods for their intended use answer different questions. A supplier may point to shipments while a purchasing authority disputes whether the contractual requirement has been met. The existence of equipment does not, by itself, resolve an argument over quality or completeness.For Ukraine, the decisive consideration is usable military support. For the public authorities financing it, the additional questions are whether payment conditions were appropriate, inspections were timely and contractual protections can recover money when performance is disputed. Those questions should be settled through evidence and the relevant proceedings, not through premature declarations of guilt.The procurement lesson is nonetheless clear. Emergency purchasing needs traceable contracts, independently verified acceptance and a dependable record linking each payment to performance. Urgency may justify faster decisions. It cannot make the distinction between an invoice and a functioning delivery disappear.An oversight system split across institutionsEurope’s defence financing does not sit within a single system of scrutiny. National budgets, EU programmes, loans and off-budget arrangements have different institutional responsibilities. The European Court of Auditors’ September review described complex governance and uneven oversight arrangements, rather than a continent-wide absence of auditing.SAFE falls within the European Court of Auditors’ remit. The European Peace Facility, outside the ordinary EU budget, has its own College of Auditors. National defence expenditure is scrutinised through national institutions. The distinction is between different mandates, not between money that is automatically checked and money that is automatically unaccountable. The difficulty arises at the joins. A public explanation may follow the announcement of a financing package, while a procurement body follows the contract and an operational authority follows the equipment. Unless those accounts can be reconciled, citizens and legislators may struggle to establish the complete journey from political promise to accepted delivery.Secrecy complicates that task, but it need not prevent it. Publishing ammunition locations or technical vulnerabilities would be irresponsible. Giving properly authorised auditors access to contracts, inspections and payment records is a different matter. The need to protect operational information should not become a general excuse for withholding financial evidence.Nor should procurement integrity be treated as a rival to speed. Clearly assigned responsibility, verifiable milestones and early checks can prevent disputes from developing into expensive attempts to recover money after the event. The relevant choice is between controls that work during procurement and explanations demanded after something has gone wrong.Where Putin could benefitThese failures do not establish that Vladimir Putin has obtained everything he wanted. A Europe that turns rising expenditure into effective forces would represent a very different outcome. There is also no demonstrated Russian role in the particular German budget dispute or the Estonian accounting and contractual problems described here.The potential advantage for Moscow is indirect. Delayed or disputed deliveries can leave the intended recipient weaker than the expenditure suggests. Confusing financial claims can make it harder to defend further commitments. A succession of procurement controversies could erode confidence not only in individual contracts, but in the wider case for supporting Ukraine and strengthening European defence.That is a strategic risk, not proof of an accomplished Russian victory. The public identification of problems is itself evidence that scrutiny exists. A minister accepting political responsibility, auditors challenging unreliable balances and a government being pressed to explain its borrowing are mechanisms through which democratic systems can correct failure. Their value depends on what happens afterwards.The answer is neither to abandon rearmament nor to shield it from criticism. Governments should report progress in terms that connect money to results: contracts awarded, payments made, equipment accepted and capabilities available, with sensitive details reserved for secure oversight. Disputed transactions should remain visible until resolved rather than disappearing beneath the next spending announcement.Europe does not need to prove its determination by producing another larger number. It needs to demonstrate that the money already committed is becoming usable strength. Until it does, the distance between those two things remains an opportunity for the adversary it is trying to deter.