Pacemaker, Not Peacemaker: How Trump’s Foreign Policy Reignites the Fires of War

Asis Mistry 

Donald Trump once promised to end America’s “forever wars.” “Great nations do not fight endless wars,” he declared. Yet six months into his second term, Trump has stoked not one but two major geopolitical flashpoints—Iran and Ukraine—pushing the world closer to systemic conflict, not peace.

On June 22, U.S. bombers and submarines struck Iran’s most fortified nuclear sites—Fordow, Natanz, and Isfahan—even as Tehran remained engaged in backchannel diplomacy. Trump initially denied involvement, then justified the strikes as “peace through strength.” When Israel’s defences faltered under Iranian retaliation, Trump intervened directly, transforming a regional skirmish into a U.S.-led escalation.

This episode eviscerates the myth of Trump as a restrained realist. As in the lead-up to the 2003 Iraq war, his move was unilateral, poorly coordinated, and based on vague intelligence—this time, the disputed claim that Iran was just days from a nuclear breakout, a claim his own intelligence services had walked back earlier this year.

Far from calming tensions, Trump has become a pacemaker in the most dangerous sense—artificially accelerating global crises. His posture has reignited the flames of great-power rivalry and blurred red lines everywhere: from Tehran and Tel Aviv to Kyiv and Moscow. On June 24, Trump announced a “complete and total ceasefire” between Iran and Israel, calling an end to what he described as a “12-day war” that, he claims, could have dragged on for years. Yet this ceasefire is less an act of peace-making than a strategic intermission. Trump appears to be deliberately managing the pace of conflict—escalating it to showcase strength, then pausing it theatrically to claim diplomatic success.

This modulation serves multiple ends: it fuels his long-standing ambition for a Nobel Peace Prize, projects leadership during election cycles, and, crucially, sustains the U.S. arms economy. Netanyahu’s July 2025 nomination of Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize, citing his “pivotal role” in expanding Arab–Israeli normalization, encapsulates this contradiction. That Trump was simultaneously bombing Iran while being nominated for peace underscores the Orwellian theater of contemporary geopolitics. Critics have rightly pointed out that the nomination appears more a political gesture than a recognition of any substantive peacebuilding. Indeed, as Trump floats dreams of Middle East “Rivieras” built on the rubble of Gaza, his diplomacy takes on the contours of imperial spectacle rather than reconciliation.

Like the recent India–Pakistan border ceasefire, the Iran–Israel accord is thin on structure and heavy on symbolism, more about optics than resolution. What emerges is not a roadmap to peace, but a choreography of war—calculated, commodified, and politically profitable.

In Ukraine, Trump’s rhetoric is equally destabilising. He boasts of ending the war in 24 hours—yet as the Lowy Institute notes, his fear of appearing weak may push him toward increased U.S. military support if negotiations fail. Ironically, a second Trump term could see him pivot against Putin, not out of principle but optics. His unpredictability—flirting with both appeasement and escalation—unsettles allies and emboldens adversaries.

Meanwhile, Republicans remain divided. According to Pew, nearly half of GOP voters believe the U.S. is giving too much aid to Ukraine, and support for NATO has significantly eroded among Trump’s base. Should this transactional approach define U.S. foreign policy, both Ukraine and Europe may be forced to reckon with strategic abandonment mid-conflict.

Behind Trump’s foreign policy rhetoric lies a deeper, structural engine: the political economy of American arms exports. As public support for overseas entanglements becomes more fractured, the defence industry provides continuity and momentum. According to the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI), U.S. weapons exports to Europe surged by 233% between 2020 and 2024—driven largely by Ukraine-related military aid. For the first time in decades, Europe surpassed the Middle East as the largest destination for American arms, accounting for 35% of U.S. exports. Ukraine alone absorbed 26% of these shipments, with nearly three-quarters sourced directly from U.S. military stockpiles. This rapid flow of materiel has accelerated a new wave of militarisation across NATO countries, all under the legitimising narrative of allied support.

This is not incidental. As the Global Times analysis notes, the Ukraine war has sparked a massive rearmament drive among NATO states—many of which are now locked into long-term procurement contracts with U.S. defence firms. Over $81 billion in U.S. arms sales were recorded in 2023 alone, a 56% jump from the previous year. These deals don’t just project American power abroad; they anchor jobs and economic activity at home. The U.S. aerospace and defence sector supports over 2.1 million jobs, a figure that lends domestic economic justification to sustained overseas military engagement.

The entanglement of strategic objectives with industrial benefits turns global conflict into both a political and economic imperative. When Trump promotes “peace through strength,” what often follows is an arms pipeline that fuels instability under the guise of deterrence. This militarised economy makes withdrawal from war zones economically costly and politically fraught. It also means that regional flare-ups—in Ukraine, Iran, or potentially South Asia—can be seen as market opportunities rather than diplomatic failures. In such a context, foreign policy is no longer about strategic vision or conflict resolution; it is about sustaining a system in which peace becomes structurally unprofitable.

The Iran strikes, for their part, have shredded what remained of the nuclear non-proliferation order. The global message is stark: disarmament invites attack; deterrence ensures survival. Nowhere is this more dangerously internalised than in South Asia.

Pakistan, long defensive about its tactical nuclear posture in the face of India’s conventional military edge, now sees its strategy vindicated. Trump’s strike on Iran sends a stark message: adherence to international norms offers no shield against pre-emptive force. For Islamabad, this reinforces the belief that nuclear deterrence remains its only credible safeguard. For India—traditionally cast as a responsible nuclear actor and regional stabiliser—the collapse of trust in global diplomatic frameworks makes continued strategic restraint harder to justify, and potentially more costly. The precedent set in Iran reverberates across South Asia, casting a long shadow over its already fragile deterrence balance.

This shift has global implications. Trump’s style has turned preventive war into standard policy. Having dismantled the 2015 Iran nuclear deal, he moved from diplomacy to sanctions, and now to strikes. In Ukraine, he may soon pivot from “deal-maker” to war-expander. In both cases, the guiding logic is not de-escalation, but coercion.

The economic fallout has been swift. Oil prices soared 28% within days of the Iran strike. Energy markets remain on edge. Inflationary shocks ripple across Europe and Asia. With 40,000 U.S. troops deployed in West Asia, America is exposed—militarily, politically, and economically.

What Trump celebrates as “strength” is, in fact, a war on memory—a disregard for the hard lessons of Iraq, Afghanistan, and Libya. Like before, there is no exit plan, no congressional authorisation, and no strategy beyond spectacle. The strike on Iran drew bipartisan concern, but Republican hawks cheered it as decisive leadership. The White House spun it as a triumph for global security. The truth is far murkier.

Meanwhile, Benjamin Netanyahu—facing domestic unrest—rides this moment to reassert Israeli hardline power. But in doing so, he and Trump risk dragging the U.S. into a protracted conflict it neither initiated nor fully controls.

The message to smaller states worldwide is chilling: negotiate and die, or arm and survive. Diplomacy becomes obsolete, and nuclear deterrence becomes a doctrine of despair. For South Asia—where a single misstep between India and Pakistan could lead to catastrophe—this unravelling is deeply ominous.

Trump did not end forever wars. He fractured them into episodic flashpoints, more dangerous for their unpredictability and lack of resolution. His foreign policy is not peace-making—it is pace-making, rushing the world toward chaos with no vision for peace.

This is not a strength. It is a spectacle. And it leaves the world—Tehran, Kyiv, New Delhi, and beyond—holding its breath for the next strike.

 @ The author is an Assistant Professor of Political Science, University of Calcutta.

 

Airport: a transition from cornerstone to rolling stone

 

By Angela Mahapatra

 Airports are an indicator of development. John D. Kasarda and others have demonstrated how airports support growth, contributing to urban growth and development. Improved regional connectivity has promoted migration as well as the international movement of people and goods. But it's not the same any more, airports have encouraged the growth of the population so much that it's scary for people in that residence.

Brinkmanship of development

Belgian researchers Taïs Grippa and Frédric Debruszkes have highlighted in their paper, "You’re surrounded! Measuring the interior of airports in urban areas", that there are significant risks linked to airports situated close to crowded neighbourhoods. Their study presents the idea of an "enclosure index," which evaluates the effects of population density within a 15 km radius of the airport. (Source -1) Mumbai, Ahmedabad among Indian airports facing heightened safety risk due to urban surroundings, published on Economic Times, 9th of July 2025, and

2) You’re surrounded by Grippa and Dobruszkes,2022 pub published in The Professional Geographer.

Mumbai's Chatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport and Delhi's Indira Gandhi International Airport are located in congested zones, posing important safety issues for residents. The location near slums and housing makes operations more difficult and narrows down safety margins. For instance, Chennai Airport has experienced safety problems due to impingement on the airport, leading authorities to caution against skyscrapers that might obstruct the flight paths.

Airport, a planned death trap

Airports are usually sentimental grounds for farewells, and here we don't only bid farewell to our loved ones but also sometimes to some part of ourselves. However, the unprecedented urban sprawl surrounding these airports has brought issues such as illegal construction and inadequate infrastructure.

This scenario causes land use conflicts, prevents airport expansion, and affects safety. For example, spontaneous and frequent uncontrolled development around Indira Gandhi International Airport complicates runway additions and infrastructure upliftment. Urban development around airports requires stricter regulation to safeguard buffer zones. Effective policies are necessary for safe aircraft operations and public security. Airports in densely populated regions have a greater danger of accidents during takeoff and landing, resulting in potential severe casualties.

For example, the devastating 2020 Air India Express Kozhikode crash happened when the plane overshot the runway and disintegrated on a tabletop runway, with concerns being raised about the proximity of the runway to surrounding residential areas. In the same way, the 2025 Air India Flight 171 incident while taking off from Patel International Airport ended in tragedy when the aircraft crashed in a residential neighborhood. It crashed into a housing building of medical personnel associated with Byramjee Jeejeebhoy Medical College and Civil Hospital in Ahmedabad, resulting in the horrific loss of 242 lives, including passengers, flight attendants, and family members of medical personnel. (source -1)"What we know so far about Air India crash investigation" by Jack Burgess, Maia Davies, and Anna Lamche, BBC News, published on 12th June 2025 and updated on 12th July 2025

2)Four MBBS students, four relatives of doctors died in the crash: JDA published in the Times of India on June 17th 2025.)

Aircraft noise pollution leads to severe health issues like stress, sleep disorders, hypertension, and heart disease. Residents near airports, such as Mumbai’s Vile Parle and Santa Cruz, have raised concerns about unbearable noise from late-night flights. This problem is compounded by engine noise, traffic, and construction, worsening air pollution and impacting children and the elderly. For example, despite Bangalore airport's distance from the city, rapid development nearby is increasing emissions and dust pollution, raising health concerns.

Overcrowding of residential complexes close to airports makes evacuation in times of crisis difficult, preventing easy access for emergency vehicles. For instance, the traffic congestion within Kolkata's international airport takes longer to respond, particularly during rush hour. This raises the risk of deaths from accidents and worsens noise and air pollution, which is dangerous to health and the environment. Moreover, compromised infrastructure growth and safety breaches have transformed airports from a dream of development into a nightmare.

Development, a mere eyewash

Airports are considered symbols of modernity, boosting local economies and international connectivity, especially in developing nations like India. The government gives airports high priority in regional development, adhering to global standards, like in the cases of GMR Delhi Airport and RGIA of Hyderabad. Yet, problems such as uncontrolled urban expansion, inadequate buffer zones, lack of security, and neglected social and environmental impacts continue to haunt. Airports represent elitism, with projects aiming for high-end developments as the airports kill the local businesses by taking away agricultural land, forcing farmers into debt. It is followed by delayed compensation and no skill development, as was the case with Navi Mumbai airport. Besides, airport expansions, such as those at Kolkata airport, pollute the environment and pose a danger to fish farming. Inefficient infrastructure planning increases traffic jams and pulls down productivity, as airports attract a lot of traffic. Such situations are witnessed at Bengaluru airport. Even though the airport creates employment opportunities, most are low-paying or contractual jobs with minimal career prospects. This begs the question: is the airport an elitist enabler or does it belong to the commoner?

United by clouds, divided by politics

The expansion and shifting of airports take huge land tracts, which in India creates political tensions, protests, and litigation.

The Jewar Airport project proposal has received major pushback against the acquisition of land, with the faltering of Navi Mumbai Airport due to aversion from local and tribal groups. The expansion of slums around airports accommodates a large number of people who serve as a vote bank, which results in the government not wanting to shift these groups for fear of losing their electoral backing. This erodes sound urban planning, as population demands conflict with long-term infrastructure aspirations and short-term political agendas. Politicians are prone to make promises not to disturb surrounding neighbourhoods, putting off difficult decisions in election years and hampering airport modernisation. Aviation is controlled by the central government, while land administration and laws are controlled by the state, leading to bureaucratic harassment and political tensions. The government of West Bengal shelved the Purulia Airport project because of this state-central accord, similar to Trivandrum airport privatisation, which was resisted at the state level despite central sanction. In addition, airport privatisation often gives rise to charges of cronyism and persistent capitalism that benefit political parties over their rivals.

In brief, Indian cities' congested airports point towards planning failures in cities, political indecision, attempts to please the underprivileged, issues with land acquisition, and disputes between governments. Airport management, new constructions, or expansions involve reconciling development objectives with political agendas. Enhancements can encompass compensation and resettlement for ousted communities, skill development facilities in localities for airport employment, affordable housing and commercial units for locals, and zoning, followed by inclusive infrastructure planning

 

@ The author is an independent researcher.

Un-imagining the Nation: How the Idea of India Turned on Its People

 

By Asis Mistry

The idea of India was imagined through structures that excluded its margins from the start, and to move forward, we must un-imagine the nation to reimagine belonging through justice and civilizational plurality.

There has been a compelling and timely exchange of ideas on the meaning, memory, and crisis of Indian nationalism — a conversation shaped by Yogendra Yadav (“The nationalism we forgot,” Indian Express, May 27, and “The rediscovery of nationalism,” IE, June 5), Suhas Palshikar (“Who stole my nationalism?”, IE, May 31), Akeel Bilgrami (“An alternative nationalism,” IE, June 16), and G. N. Devy (“Tale of Two Nationalisms,” IE, June 30). These interventions attempt to recover what they see as a richer, more inclusive tradition of Indian nationalism — one rooted in the freedom struggle, constitutional morality, and cultural pluralism. Devy draws a sharp contrast between constitutional nationalism and the Hindutva project, while Yadav and Palshikar debate the historical omissions and contemporary distortions of the nationalist ideal. Yet, taken together, these reflections remain tethered to a foundational narrative — that Indian nationalism was, or could have been, inherently integrative. What remains insufficiently examined is whether this idea was ever structurally capable of delivering justice, or whether the exclusions and silences that mark today’s authoritarian turn were always latent within it.

Let us offer a critical intervention in the ongoing debate on Indian nationalism. It contends that the “idea of India,” long eulogised for its pluralist and democratic aspirations, has always rested on a brittle foundation — one undergirded by caste hierarchies, epistemic violence, and a statist rationality that was fundamentally hostile to radical plurality. The present turn toward an exclusionary, Hindutva-inflected nationalism is not simply a break from the past; it is a brutal intensification of latent tendencies, if not structural, in the postcolonial national project itself.

Yogendra Yadav retrieves a vision of Indian nationalism that was distinctively integrative — one that eschewed the homogenising impulses of European models and celebrated a capacious unity-in-diversity. Suhas Palshikar, more cautiously, acknowledges the aspirations of this tradition while confronting the silences and exclusions embedded within it. Both thinkers attempt to reclaim an inclusive nationalism from the wreckage of the present. Yet in doing so, they betray a nostalgia for a pluralist nationalism that, arguably, never fully existed. Their recovery of the past often obscures the deeper question: who was permitted to belong in the first place?

For all its rhetorical inclusivity, Indian nationalism has historically failed to include caste, tribe, and indigeneity in any meaningful way. The frequently invoked ideal of “belonging without othering” was never realised — not because of momentary lapses or policy failures, but because it was structurally unviable within a nation-state built on upper-caste consensus. As Ambedkar warned, political democracy without social democracy is nothing but a shell. What the nationalist movement achieved was not inclusion, but a fragile consensus curated by elites — a consensus that depended on the suppression of deep-seated inequalities and dissent. These exclusions were not accidental. They were foundational.

G. N. Devy’s distinction between constitutional nationalism and Hindutva nationalism is helpful in mapping the ideological terrain, but it ultimately flattens the complexity of India’s civilizational past. Bharat, as a civilizational entity, cannot be reduced to either of these poles. Unlike the modernist logic of nation-states that seek homogeneity, Bharat’s coherence emerged from shared difference — a continuity of layered identities, moral universes, and spiritual traditions. The current nationalist crisis, then, is not simply the clash of two opposing visions. It is the culmination of a longer historical dismemberment — a process by which colonial and postcolonial elites steadily replaced a plural civilizational consciousness with a narrow, bureaucratised, and homogenising model of statehood.

In both its Nehruvian and Hindutva iterations, the Indian state has failed to acknowledge this deeper plurality. Where Nehruvian nationalism instrumentalised diversity under the banner of unity, Hindutva nationalism weaponizes it under the banner of purity. Both have relied on the coercive apparatus of the state to discipline difference — through language policy, citizenship regimes, national security laws, and the criminalisation of dissent. In this context, Benedict Anderson’s theory of the nation as an “imagined community” requires reconsideration. Bharat was not imagined into being through print capitalism or modernist allegiances. It was lived, remembered, contested, and practised across millennia. What has been imagined — and violently enforced — is the nation-state itself: a bounded, majoritarian, and ultimately brittle political form.

While Palshikar is right to draw attention to the failures of nationalism before 2014, he still retains faith in its redeemability — in the possibility of a democratic nationalism that could correct its course. But what if that possibility was never structurally feasible? Postcolonial theorists like Partha Chatterjee have framed Indian nationalism as a derivative discourse, modelled on Western ideals. Yet this critique often stops short of interrogating how caste and upper-caste modernity shaped the very contours of nationalist imagination — in its pedagogy, its vocabulary, and its exclusions.

The violences of the present — the targeting of Muslims, the silencing of caste-based resistance, the criminalisation of protest — are not a new aberrations. They are the logical outcome of a state form that never accounted for the margins. From Kashmir to Bastar, from Dalit student suicides to the disenfranchisement of Adivasi communities, the postcolonial nation-state has failed to include. For too long, nationalism in India has depended on forgetting — forgetting caste, forgetting tribe, forgetting women, forgetting dissent.

If the nation as currently imagined is exhausted, then what comes next? The answer does not lie in recovering a lost golden age of pluralism or reinventing a softer version of nationalism. Rather, it lies in reimagining the political community itself. The civilizational idea of Bharat offers a different grammar — one that is not reducible to statehood, territory, or majoritarian culture. It gestures toward a space of overlapping moral frameworks, non-statist affiliations, and lived pluralities. But such a turn must be made without mythologising or romanticising the past. A civilizational politics is only meaningful if it is a politics of justice — if it reckons honestly with structural exclusions, rather than subsuming them under heritage or cultural pride.

This is not an academic diversion. It is a moral and political reckoning. In an era where the state has turned its power inward — criminalising citizenship, militarising campuses, and transforming nationalism into an instrument of fear — rethinking the nation is an urgent imperative. The challenge is not to rescue Indian nationalism from its present distortions, but to un-imagine the very exclusions that enabled its construction.

We must imagine anew — a community grounded not in uniformity, but in solidarity; not in fear, but in mutual recognition; not in myth, but in ethical co-existence. In that reimagining may lie the possibility of a Bharat that was never fully realised, but is still waiting to be claimed.

The author is a faculty of Political Science at the University of Calcutta

The organised mass: Mosca’s categorisation calls into question the ruling class

Angela Mahapatra

The mass has been accused of being passive and disorganised as a group, which limits their ability to lead.  Mosca, an elite theorist, has stressed the majority's lack of organising abilities, allowing the strong, powerful, economically boosted, and, finally, the organised minority, the 'elites,' to reign.  This hasty assumption about the governing class is not appropriate for decolonised countries like India.

Elite, a forgotten past

India has experienced nearly half a century of monopolistic governance by the Indian National Congress. Throughout this extensive period, the Congress has transformed from a catch-all nationalist party into a secular organisation. The elite of that era were once activists themselves. The ruling minority, the British Raj, was overthrown by the Indian National Congress. The current government is led by representatives of the “common man.” The transition of power from the “raja” to its “praja” was a lengthy process.

Why is it so simple for the state's elites to govern?  The authority in politics?  The financial support?  - Yes, all of these things combined with societal and cultural acceptability.  The unquestionable trust that everything is great, that there is no other option, that there is no reason to expect more, and finally, that it will last for survival is all bolstered by this social acceptance of the ruling minority.

As time goes on, the decline of trust and political instability among the elite gives way to the emergence of the ordinary individual.

Organisational skills, a gift to the masses

It is often claimed that the masses lack organisational skills, but in truth, they are at their strongest when they come together.

Marxist theorists have carefully articulated how working-class individuals will band together to resist exploitation by the capitalist class. Likewise, during the struggle for independence, the oppressed, mistreated, and colonised populations fought collectively for their freedom. Shared experiences of suffering, the challenges of poverty, and the burden of forced servitude fostered a sense of unity among the diverse individuals within a nation. This is what has brought the masses together.

The masses possess superior organisational abilities compared to the elites, stemming from their psychological bond of equality.

Is Mass the new class?

Democracy as a concept allows everyone the opportunity to select a leader or to become one themselves. Mosca’s categorisation of the ruling class fails to recognise the democratic principles of governance. As a concept, democracy empowers the removal of authoritarian elite control supported by the military, business sectors, and bureaucrats. Democracy serves as a motivation for all those traditional ruling ideologies that silence the voices of the populace. The events of World War I illustrated this, beginning with the emergence of Serbian nationalism that led to the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

The relationship between the ruling system is determined by the majority. The masses are emerging as a new class, resonating more with their fellow citizens; this feeling of representation fosters the advancement of the masses. However, the elite are not content merely to act as elected leaders. Instances such as military coups, state emergencies, and presidential rule illustrate how the elite seek to disrupt the unity of the masses. Government forces attempt to fragment the solidarity of the populace. Upon closer inspection, it is evident that the citizens are the true holders of authority and the ones seeking power.

Ultimately, nothing exists outside of the majority's approval and recognition.

The perception of the elite as superior, coupled with their condescension towards the majority, promotes solidarity among the people. By viewing themselves as the exclusive benefactor and protector of the populace, they contribute to dismantling the elite's dominance and empowering ordinary individuals.

Common man, an underdog: अब राजा का बेटा राजा नहीं बनेगा!!

Encircled by countries grappling with political turmoil, military coups, civil conflicts, and autocratic governance, India stands strong as the democratic master of Asia. Emerging from a lengthy period dominated by a single political party and precariousness in the governance, the ascent of the Bharatiya Janata Party symbolises the empowerment of the ordinary citizen.

Currently, the world views India as a nation governed by the common man, for the common man, and of the common man. Since its inception, India has experienced changes in governance. Oppression has played a significant role in shifting power dynamics in this land.

Violence has been a crucial element in bringing the masses together throughout different historical periods. The quest for freedom has served as a rallying cry for an end to suffering, as Franz Fanon also advocates for violence after a certain threshold of endurance is reached in order to regain peace, stability, and emancipation. Violence presents a contradiction, as both the elite and the masses engage in it similarly. The elite wield violence to fracture the solidarity of the masses, while the masses resort to violence to fortify their cohesion. In modern times, violence has become an inherent aspect of any rebellion.

Unfortunately, the state of every democratic country is significantly troubled, as the ‘common man’ also exhibits certain elitist characteristics, which enhance their organisational abilities that serve as a link between those in power and the power givers.

 

@ The author is an independent researcher. 

The Hollow Republic: Critical Reflections on India’s Democratic Crisis

 

Introduction

In May 2024, India’s ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) secured a third consecutive term in national office, reaffirming its electoral dominance despite mounting concerns over democratic backsliding. While the country remains a functioning electoral democracy—with regular elections, an active press, and a formally independent judiciary—many observers have noted a stark contradiction: democratic structures endure, but the spirit of democracy appears increasingly hollow. Minority rights are under siege, dissent is criminalised, and institutions meant to check executive power have been either weakened or co-opted. India’s democratic crisis is no longer a looming threat—it is an unfolding reality.

This essay argues that India’s democracy is being hollowed out from within. The façade of constitutional democracy masks a deep erosion of substantive democratic values such as pluralism, accountability, and inclusion. Drawing on insights from critical theorists such as Jürgen Habermas, Herbert Marcuse, and Antonio Gramsci, this analysis interrogates the disconnect between democratic form and function and examines how power operates beneath the surface of procedural legitimacy.

The discussion unfolds in four parts. First, it explores how democratic institutions have been hollowed out while retaining their formal shell. Second, it examines the rise of majoritarian politics and its impact on representation. Third, it analyses the political economy driving democratic decline. Finally, it considers the shrinking space for dissent and the role of media in manufacturing consent. Together, these reflections aim to expose the contradictions of India's “hollow republic.”

The Democratic Façade: Institutions Without Substance

At first glance, India appears to fulfil the procedural requirements of a thriving democracy. Elections are held regularly, courts issue rulings, and parliament continues to function. Yet beneath this formal structure lies a deeper crisis: the institutional shell of democracy remains intact, but its substance—deliberation, accountability, and pluralism—is steadily eroding. What persists is a façade of democracy, behind which the concentration of power has grown unchecked.

Over the last decade, executive authority has expanded dramatically. The Prime Minister's Office has centralised decision-making, sidelining both parliament and cabinet. Ordinances bypass legislative debate, while federalism is increasingly compromised. Opposition parties face the selective use of investigative agencies. Meanwhile, civil society organisations are restrained by the Foreign Contribution (Regulation) Act (FCRA), which curtails foreign funding and advocacy efforts.

Paradoxically, even democratic institutions are used to suppress dissent. Broad laws on sedition and terrorism (UAPA) are frequently applied against activists, students, and journalists, often pre-trial. Courts increasingly defer to executive interests, especially in politically sensitive cases. Although elections remain competitive, they are distorted by opaque campaign financing and state-controlled narratives.

This erosion reflects what Jürgen Habermas termed the colonisation of the lifeworld—where systems of power displace democratic deliberation. In place of “communicative rationality,” where democracy rests on inclusive dialogue, Indian institutions now reflect “instrumental rationality,” where outcomes are determined by elite interests and bureaucratic control. Herbert Marcuse similarly warned of repressive tolerance, where forms of freedom are permitted only so long as they do not challenge domination. In India today, the performance of democracy persists—but its emancipatory core has been gutted.

Majoritarianism and the Crisis of Representation

One of the most troubling features of India’s democratic decline is the growing appeal to majoritarianism—the idea that the will of the majority overrides constitutional protections for minorities and dissenters. While this tendency has existed historically, its institutionalisation under the BJP has triggered a crisis of representation. In this system, democratic legitimacy is no longer derived from inclusive citizenship but from the projection of cultural and religious uniformity.

The Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) and the proposed National Register of Citizens (NRC) exemplify this shift. By explicitly privileging non-Muslim migrants, the CAA institutionalises religious discrimination. The NRC threatens to render millions stateless—particularly Muslims and low-income communities lacking documentation. Simultaneously, anti-Muslim violence, including mob lynchings, has become both more frequent and more normalized, creating a pervasive climate of fear.

Censorship further entrenches this majoritarian logic. Films, scholarship, and media reports critical of the government are routinely attacked or banned. Pro-government media networks dominate airtime, reinforcing a homogenized vision of national identity and stifling dissenting narratives.

Antonio Gramsci’s theory of hegemony offers a powerful framework for understanding this process. In Gramsci’s view, power is sustained not only through coercion but through cultural leadership—the construction of “common sense” that aligns popular belief with ruling-class interests. In contemporary India, the state and its media allies manufacture a hegemonic consensus in which Hindu majoritarianism is equated with patriotism, and pluralism with disloyalty. The crisis of representation, then, is not accidental—it is strategic, converting democracy into a mechanism for exclusion under the guise of national unity.

The Political Economy of Hollowing Out

India’s democratic decline cannot be fully understood without examining its economic underpinnings. Over the past decade, neoliberal reforms have advanced alongside growing authoritarianism—not as conflicting trends, but as mutually reinforcing forces. Together, they have produced a society in which citizens are economically precarious and politically disengaged—a condition that critical theorists describe as managed depoliticisation.

The state has overseen the rapid privatisation of public assets, from national airlines to ports and highways, concentrating economic power in the hands of a corporate elite with close ties to the ruling party. At the same time, labor reforms have diluted worker protections and undermined collective bargaining rights in the name of “ease of doing business.” Simultaneously, the expansion of digital surveillance—through biometric IDs, facial recognition, and opaque data collection—has extended state power into everyday life.

This convergence reflects what Frankfurt School theorists like Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno identified as the transformation of democracy into a means of elite control. In such a system, institutions are preserved not to expand participation, but to legitimize an order where market logic overrides political equality. As Adorno warned, when freedom becomes a carefully managed experience, politics is reduced to private frustration and passive acceptance.

Today, Indian citizens are increasingly positioned not as rights-bearing participants, but as consumers—of digital platforms, welfare schemes, and aspirational narratives. Financial inclusion is touted as progress, even as avenues for political inclusion are systematically narrowed. As Herbert Marcuse famously wrote, “the free election of masters does not abolish the masters.” In this context, India’s democracy risks becoming one-dimensional: procedurally intact, but substantively hollow.

Silencing Dissent and the Manufacturing of Consent

A healthy democracy requires more than elections; it needs a vibrant public sphere where dissent and debate are not only permitted but protected. In contemporary India, that space is under siege. Laws like sedition and the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA) have been used to criminalise criticism of the government. Activists, students, journalists, and artists have been jailed under vague allegations, often denied bail, and subjected to prolonged pre-trial detention.

The coercive edge of the state is reinforced by a captured media landscape. Over the past decade, media consolidation has placed much of India’s press under the control of conglomerates with close ties to the ruling party. Independent journalism is increasingly rare, hampered by legal threats, advertising pressure, and coordinated online attacks. Government narratives dominate prime-time television, where dissenting voices are marginalised or demonised.

This aligns closely with Noam Chomsky and Edward Herman’s framework of manufacturing consent, wherein media systems in formal democracies serve elite interests by shaping public perception rather than informing civic debate. In India, this is achieved through selective reporting, repetition of nationalist rhetoric, and the systematic silencing of critical perspectives.

Theodor Adorno’s critique of the culture industry is equally instructive. Adorno warned that mass media, when commodified and standardised, do not educate but entertain, producing passive consumers rather than active citizens. In India, news increasingly resembles spectacle—sensationalist, polarizing, and devoid of substance. Dissent becomes deviance, activism becomes subversion, and democracy becomes performance.

What results is not overt totalitarianism but a more subtle regime of consent: one in which the appearance of freedom masks its erosion. The mechanisms of control are cultural as much as political, and their most insidious effect is to render alternatives unimaginable.

Toward a Democratic Reclamation

India’s democratic erosion is not merely the result of authoritarian overreach. It is a hollowing out from within—where procedural forms are retained, but the substance of democracy is steadily stripped away. As critical theorists remind us, domination in modern democracies often operates not by dismantling institutions, but by redefining their purpose: shifting them from enabling participation to managing populations, from ensuring accountability to consolidating control.

And yet, even within this hollowed republic, resistance persists. The farmer protests, which brought millions to the streets in 2020–21, exemplified democratic agency from below. Student mobilisations, anti-CAA demonstrations, and grassroots campaigns for justice continue to confront both state repression and cultural hegemony. These moments remind us that democracy is not confined to the formal workings of institutions—it also lives in the everyday struggles for dignity, recognition, and voice.

Reclaiming Indian democracy will require more than protecting elections or restoring parliamentary norms. It demands a radical reimagining of democratic life—one that centres inclusion over exclusion, deliberation over domination, and structural reform over symbolic gestures. This means confronting not only authoritarian power, but also the social and economic inequalities that sustain it.

As Raymond Williams once observed, democracy is “a long revolution”—an ongoing and unfinished project. India’s future depends not on restoring a golden past, but on building a democratic order yet to be realised: a republic grounded not in appearances, but in justice, plurality, and shared power.

*Author Bio: Asis Mistry is Assistant Professor in the Department of Political Science, University of Calcutta. His work focuses on democratic theory, political economy, and South Asian politics.

 

From Shahbagh to Hefazat: Tracing Bangladesh’s Islamist Surge

Asis Mistry

In recent years, Bangladesh has witnessed an unsettling rise in religious extremism, reflecting a shift in the country’s socio-political dynamics. While Bangladesh’s founding ideals in 1971 were rooted in secular nationalism, the country has experienced a resurgence of radical ideologies that increasingly threaten its pluralistic fabric. The political landscape has both directly and indirectly facilitated this phenomenon, as mainstream parties exploit religious sentiment for political gain, and state responses to extremism remain inconsistent and often reactive.

The Historical Roots of Religious Politics

To understand the current manifestation of religious extremism in Bangladesh, one must revisit its political history. The secular vision of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman began to erode following his assassination in 1975. In the subsequent decades, military rulers like Ziaur Rahman and Hussain Muhammad Ershad incrementally Islamized the polity—lifting the ban on religious parties, inserting Islamic references in the constitution, and institutionalising religion in education and public life.

This shift laid the foundation for actors such as Jamaat-e-Islami to re-enter the political sphere. A party accused of collaborating with Pakistani forces during the 1971 Liberation War, Jamaat enjoyed strategic alliances with the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP). These alliances granted Islamist groups mainstream legitimacy and access to state institutions, especially during BNP-led governments. While Jamaat’s formal power has waned, its ideological legacy has persisted through informal networks, student organisations, and madrasas.

The Rise of Hefazat-e-Islam and New Islamist Movements

In the vacuum left by a weakened Jamaat, newer movements have gained ground. Among them, Hefazat-e-Islam, a Qawmi madrasa-based group, emerged as a powerful socio-religious force. Unlike Jamaat, Hefazat does not operate as a formal political party but exerts tremendous pressure through street power and religious legitimacy. It first rose to national prominence during the 2013 Shahbagh movement, countering secular activists and demanding harsh blasphemy laws, gender segregation, and the removal of secular content from textbooks.

What makes Hefazat particularly potent is its grassroots support among rural clerics and its ability to mobilise tens of thousands in protest. Governments across the political spectrum have courted Hefazat at different times. The Awami League (AL), which champions secularism, paradoxically engaged with Hefazat to neutralise opposition from Islamist quarters, even conceding to some of its demands, such as textbook revisions and recognition of Qawmi degrees. These concessions, however politically expedient, embolden extremist forces and blur the secular-religious divide.

Political Opportunism and Ideological Contradictions

Bangladesh’s two dominant parties, the AL and BNP, have both contributed to the entrenchment of religious extremism—albeit in different ways. The BNP has long aligned itself with Islamist groups, viewing them as electoral allies. This pragmatic alliance has provided a veneer of political legitimacy to groups with radical ideologies. On the other hand, the AL has oscillated between repression and appeasement. Its crackdown on Jamaat leaders through war crimes tribunals has been praised for upholding justice but also criticised for being politically selective.

In contrast, the AL’s tactical rapprochement with Hefazat reveals an ideological inconsistency that undermines its secular credentials. Such ambiguity dilutes public trust and signals to extremist groups that the state is willing to compromise on core principles when politically convenient. As a result, extremism becomes a viable tool for influence rather than a fringe threat to be eradicated.

The State’s Security-Centric Response

The state’s response to religious extremism has largely been security-driven. Following a spate of gruesome killings between 2013 and 2016—targeting secular bloggers, LGBTQ activists, foreigners, and religious minorities—the government launched aggressive counterterrorism operations. Groups like Ansar al-Islam (affiliated with Al-Qaeda) and Neo-JMB (an ISIS-aligned faction) were implicated in these attacks. The 2016 Holey Artisan Bakery attack, which killed 22 people, marked a turning point in public perception and state policy.

The government’s counterterrorism apparatus responded with brute force—arrests, encounters, and surveillance. While these actions curtailed the organisational capacity of militant networks, they did little to address the ideological roots of radicalisation. Moreover, the sweeping nature of arrests sometimes blurred the lines between militants, dissidents, and political opponents, raising concerns about human rights violations and the misuse of anti-terror laws.

Social Media, Global Influences, and Youth Radicalisation

Religious extremism in Bangladesh is no longer confined to traditional madrasa networks. Increasingly, radical ideologies are disseminated via social media, encrypted apps, and online forums. Young, educated individuals—often from urban, secular backgrounds—have been implicated in extremist plots, signalling a new wave of ideological recruitment that transcends class and education boundaries.

The global resurgence of Salafist-Wahhabi ideologies, funded by transnational networks, has also seeped into Bangladeshi religious discourse. The proliferation of foreign-funded mosques, scholarships, and clerics contributes to the homogenization of Islam and the marginalisation of Bangladesh’s syncretic religious traditions, such as Sufism and Baul culture.

Threats to Minorities and Civil Liberties

The politicisation of religion and the rise of extremism have had dire consequences for religious minorities—particularly Hindus, Buddhists, Christians, and Ahmadiyyas. Attacks on temples, desecration of idols, and forced displacement have been reported during election seasons or in the aftermath of blasphemy rumours. These incidents are not only indicative of growing intolerance but also reflect the instrumental use of communal violence to polarise voters and suppress dissent.

Moreover, the space for secular voices, progressive academics, and liberal journalists has shrunk significantly. Censorship, digital security laws, and extrajudicial actions contribute to a climate of fear that curtails open debate and critical inquiry—ironically creating the very conditions that allow extremism to fester.

The Way Forward: Reclaiming Secularism and Pluralism

Countering religious extremism in Bangladesh requires more than military operations or legal bans. It demands a robust recommitment to the principles of secularism, democratic accountability, and social justice. Educational reform is central—modernising madrasa curricula, promoting critical thinking, and reinvigorating cultural narratives that celebrate religious harmony and Bengali identity.

Civil society organisations, religious scholars, and grassroots leaders must play a greater role in countering extremist narratives. International cooperation on counterterrorism must be balanced with the protection of civil liberties. Above all, political parties must abandon the opportunistic use of religion and uphold constitutional values with consistency.

Bangladesh’s history is rich with traditions of tolerance, intellectual inquiry, and revolutionary pluralism. To surrender these values in the face of extremism would be a betrayal of its founding vision. The challenge is not only to defeat militancy but also to construct a society in which extremism has no soil to grow.

@ Author is Faculty of Political Science, University of Calcutta

When America Falters, the World Pays: Trump's Economic Misadventures and India's Stakes

 

Dr. Asis Mistry

As Donald Trump continues to wreak havoc on the American economy, the silence of Republican leaders and Wall Street executives is deafening — and dangerous, not just for the United States, but for the entire global economy, India included.

Trump’s impulsive trade wars, his attack on independent institutions like the U.S. Federal Reserve, and his destabilising rhetoric on global alliances are not just domestic American matters. In today's interconnected world, America’s economic health is closely tied to India's aspirations for growth, stability, and global leadership. Yet those with the most to lose inside America — its corporate chiefs and political guardians — remain largely mum, hoping futilely that private persuasion will work where public accountability is urgently needed.

The pattern is clear: American businesses, despite seeing their stock prices tumble and their international competitiveness wane, are choosing silence. Republican lawmakers, even as Trump’s tariffs hurt their own rural and working-class voters, remain subservient. Trade groups, which never hesitated to criticise past administrations, now offer little more than polite platitudes.

This matters for India because we, too, are part of the intricate global supply chains Trump is disrupting. Our IT exports, pharmaceutical supplies, and manufacturing sectors are all deeply linked to U.S. markets. Rising protectionism and unpredictable tariffs not only rattle global investor confidence but also slow down India's exports and investment inflows. When American farmers lose international customers due to retaliatory tariffs, it impacts global food prices, a delicate issue for India’s inflation management. When American tech companies face uncertainty, India's IT and service sectors feel the tremors.

There’s a belief among American CEOs that they can whisper sense into Trump's ear behind closed doors. But reality shows otherwise. Temporary concessions — like exemptions for iPhones or vague promises about tariff reductions — are short-lived. The underlying trajectory remains dangerous: an America moving away from a rules-based order towards erratic, personalised decision-making.

This week, another "leak" suggested Trump might lower China tariffs from 145% to a still-draconian 50%. Markets briefly celebrated, hoping for a cooling-off. But hope, especially when based on anonymous sources and "fake news" accusations from Beijing, is not a strategy. A 50% tariff is hardly a victory — it is an economic noose, tightened slightly less.

Trump’s threats against the U.S. Federal Reserve are even more alarming. His pressure to slash interest rates to support short-term political gains risks undermining the Fed’s long-cherished independence — the same independence that has allowed America to maintain monetary stability for decades. India, striving to strengthen its institutional credibility with independent bodies like the RBI, watches with concern. When politicians control monetary policy, the results are often catastrophic — think Venezuela or Turkey.

Yet, public pushback from within America remains feeble. An occasional senator mumbles about the need for an "independent" Fed, only to quickly walk it back with jokes about "hot cocoa" and private hugs. It’s not the kind of principled leadership the world expects from a country that has long projected itself as the steward of democracy and free enterprise.

This abdication of leadership poses risks and lessons for India and the broader developing world. We cannot afford to rely on a volatile U.S. to underpin global economic stability. We must strengthen South-South trade linkages, diversify our export markets, invest in homegrown innovation, and advocate for a truly multipolar world order. At the same time, India must remain vocal about defending democratic norms and institutional independence — lessons we must internalise at home too.

American business and political elites may think they are buying time with their silence. They are not. They are gambling not just with their future, but with the future of countries like India that have, for long, considered America a partner in prosperity.

Silence is complicity. And in today’s world, complicity comes at a global cost.

 

@Author is Assistant Professor of Political Science at the University of Calcutta