Tiruppur: The knitwear units in this Tamil Nadu town employ several hundred thousand people and send a large share of their output to European retailers. Their owners watched the January signature of the trade agreement with Brussels closely, because tariff removal on garments changes their arithmetic directly and immediately. What they did not watch, and what matters far more to the European companies planning to build factories alongside them, is the treaty that still does not exist.
The European Union and India concluded their free trade agreement on 27 January 2026, closing nearly two decades of stop-start talks. The European Commission calls it the largest deal either side has ever struck, covering goods, services, digital trade, intellectual property and sustainable development. India will bring car tariffs down from 110 percent towards 10 percent and scrap duties on components over five to ten years. European exporters have a clear timetable.
European investors do not. When the two sides relaunched talks in June 2022, they deliberately split the file into three tracks: the trade agreement, a separate investment protection agreement, and a dedicated deal on geographical indications. Only the first has crossed the line. The other two remain open, and the investment file is the one that carries real money.
The gap matters because most European investors in India currently hold no treaty protection at all. India terminated its old bilateral investment treaties with EU member states after adopting its 2016 model text, and the replacement never arrived. That model asks foreign investors to pursue Indian courts for five years before touching international arbitration, and it carves out taxation entirely. Brussels wants its Investment Court System, with standing judges and an appeal stage. Neither side has moved much, and negotiators on both sides treat the file as parked rather than progressing.
Ratification adds a second problem. The trade agreement is an EU-only instrument, so it needs Council approval and European Parliament consent. Lawyer-linguists are still scrubbing the text and translating it into 24 languages, which is why the consent vote once expected around mid-2026 has not happened. An investment protection agreement would be mixed, meaning every national parliament and several regional assemblies get a veto. Anyone who lived through the Belgian complications on the Canada deal knows what that queue looks like.
Some economists argue the missing treaty matters less than the noise suggests. Investment protection instruments correlate weakly with actual capital flows, and companies choosing between Gujarat and Vietnam weigh logistics, power reliability and contract enforcement long before arbitration clauses. India has expanded its commercial courts and tightened insolvency resolution, which arguably does more for a European manufacturer than a treaty it hopes never to invoke.
That argument has force, but it understates what the split signals. Brussels sold this agreement as a strategic realignment, not a tariff schedule. It spent political capital on the assumption that European firms would move supply chains towards a democratic partner. Relocation involves sunk assets, and sunk assets are exactly what treaties protect.
The practical test arrives this autumn. If the Council moves the signature and conclusion decisions promptly and Parliament schedules consent, the tariff side starts delivering next year. If the investment talks stay frozen through the winter, European negotiators will have spent twenty years securing market access for goods while leaving the capital that produces those goods to fend for itself in Indian courts. The knitwear units of Tiruppur will do well either way. European boardrooms are the ones still reading the fine print.





