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Correspondent

23 August 2024 at 4:29:04 pm

Chaos Diplomacy

Donald Trump has always understood one thing better than most modern politicians that markets respond to perception. In the grinding drama over Iran, the American president appears to have weaponised uncertainty itself. One day he hints at a diplomatic breakthrough with Tehran and signals the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz which causes investors to breathe a sigh of relief. However, hours later, he reverses course by declaring there is “no rush” for a deal and that restrictions will remain...

Chaos Diplomacy

Donald Trump has always understood one thing better than most modern politicians that markets respond to perception. In the grinding drama over Iran, the American president appears to have weaponised uncertainty itself. One day he hints at a diplomatic breakthrough with Tehran and signals the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz which causes investors to breathe a sigh of relief. However, hours later, he reverses course by declaring there is “no rush” for a deal and that restrictions will remain until Iran bends fully to American conditions. The markets wobble again Trump’s defenders may argue that unpredictability is a negotiating tactic. Henry Kissinger once cultivated strategic ambiguity during the Cold War. Richard Nixon perfected the so-called ‘madman theory’ to keep adversaries guessing. Yet Trump’s oscillations differ in both scale and intent. In recent weeks, analysts and ethics experts in the United States have raised uncomfortable questions about whether political messaging is increasingly shaping market volatility in ways that benefit insiders, speculators and politically connected traders. When geopolitical brinkmanship begins to resemble a financial instrument, public trust in democratic institutions erodes. Nearly a fifth of the world’s oil passes through Hormuz. A closure or blockade affects fuel prices in Mumbai as much as manufacturing costs in Shanghai or inflation in Berlin. Trump’s repeated shifts between escalation and reconciliation have had grave implications for India, which imports more than 80 percent of its crude oil requirements. Any prolonged instability in Hormuz translates directly into higher import bills, inflationary pressures and stress on the rupee while ratcheting prices of essentials. India has spent years carefully balancing its ties between Iran, the Gulf monarchies and the United States. Tehran remains important for connectivity projects such as Chabahar Port and for India’s access to Central Asia. But allies and adversaries alike are forced into a perpetual state of recalibration because American policy itself appears unstable. Trump’s Iran manoeuvring reflects a dangerous transformation in global politics, which is the merger of geopolitics with spectacle capitalism. International crises are increasingly consumed like market-moving entertainment. This may generate short-term leverage for him or even produce tactical victories at the negotiating table. Iran, under immense economic strain, reportedly agreeing in principle to surrender its highly enriched uranium stockpile is no small development. Yet diplomacy built on volatility carries long-term costs and lead to the weakening of institutions. Markets become addicted to chaos and chaos, once normalised, rarely remains controllable. The world’s largest economy cannot afford to conduct foreign policy like a reality television script, with cliffhangers designed to manipulate sentiment every news cycle. Great powers are supposed to provide stability, not amplify uncertainty for strategic theatrics. Trump may believe that time is on America’s side. But for an anxious global economy already strained by wars, inflation and fragmentation, time spent trapped in manufactured uncertainty is becoming increasingly expensive.

New Names, Old Realities

Renaming hostels may soothe stigma, but it does little to fix the conditions that define students’ lives

AI generated image
AI generated image

Pune: Recently, the Social Justice and Special Assistance Department decided to excise the term ‘Backward Class’ from the names of its government hostels and rechristen them after revered historical figures.


While the move to replace them with names that evoke dignity and achievement is, on the face of it, a step towards psychological emancipation, it is also a reminder of a familiar tendency in public policy: to mistake symbolism for substance.


Across Maharashtra, more than 400 such hostels house thousands of students from rural, tribal and economically weaker backgrounds. For many, these institutions are not mere lodgings; they are the first foothold in an unfamiliar urban landscape, the fragile bridge between deprivation and opportunity. If India’s promise of social mobility is to mean anything, it must begin in places such as these.


Sobering Reality

But the reality within their walls is sobering. In numerous hostels, access to clean drinking water remains erratic; during the punishing summer months, students rely on water tankers. Sanitary facilities are often in disrepair, with broken drainage systems and irregular cleaning. Food, a basic determinant of health and cognitive ability, is frequently reported to be of poor quality, nutritionally deficient and sourced from substandard supplies. Regular health check-ups are rare, and medical emergencies are handled with alarming uncertainty.


These are not minor administrative lapses. They strike at the heart of what ‘social justice’ purports to achieve. A system that promises uplift but delivers neglect risks entrenching the very inequalities it seeks to erase.


The contradictions extend beyond infrastructure. In the name of safety, some hostels lack even basic surveillance, while others deploy it in ways that constrain students’ autonomy. Communication between staff and residents is often strained, marked by indifference rather than empathy. Urban hostels, predictably, fare somewhat better. Rural ones lag far behind, reflecting the broader unevenness of state capacity.


More troubling still is the creeping culture of control. Under the guise of discipline, students are discouraged and sometimes explicitly threatened from participating in social or political movements. This is a sharp departure from the historical role these hostels once played. They were incubators of ideas, crucibles of leadership and, at times, engines of social change.


It was in such spaces that B. R. Ambedkar’s exhortation of “Educate, Agitate, Organize” found its most fertile ground. Education, in this conception, was never meant to be a narrow accumulation of degrees. It was a means to awaken critical consciousness, to challenge hierarchy and to imagine new social arrangements. To strip hostels of this spirit while polishing their names is to honour Ambedkar in form while neglecting him in substance.


The government’s decision to rename these institutions after great icons underscores this tension. Names can inspire, but they also impose a standard. A hostel that bears the name of a social reformer or national leader implicitly promises to embody the values associated with that figure. When the infrastructure falls short, the tribute rings hollow.


Meaningful Reforms

What, then, would constitute a more meaningful reform? The answer is neither obscure nor prohibitively expensive. Dedicated funding for infrastructure upgrades is a starting point. Annual social audits could ensure accountability, while student representation in management would bring much-needed responsiveness. Regular health services and counselling, nutritional monitoring of meals, and access to digital libraries and competitive-exam guidance would transform these hostels from mere shelters into genuine platforms for advancement.


The sums involved are modest when set against the scale of public expenditure. Governments routinely announce schemes worth thousands of crores. That a comprehensive plan to improve institutions affecting thousands of vulnerable students has yet to materialise suggests a failure not of resources, but of prioritisation.


To be sure, language is not trivial. The removal of a term that connotes backwardness may, over time, chip away at internalised hierarchies. But it cannot substitute for clean water, safe sanitation or intellectual freedom. Nor can it compensate for a system that disciplines initiative rather than nurturing it.


The deeper question is whether social justice is understood as a matter of optics or outcomes. If it is the former, then renaming hostels is progress enough. If it is the latter, then the task is far more demanding. It requires policy-level resolve, administrative competence and, above all, the willingness to confront uncomfortable truths about the state of public institutions.


For now, the risk is that the signboards will change while the lived experience remains stubbornly the same. Maharashtra’s students deserve better. A hostel, after all, is not merely a place to sleep. It is a university of life that shapes aspirations and builds resilience.

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