As geopolitical tensions sharpen and debates over United States actions toward Iran intensify, deeper questions are emerging about the durability of the post-war international order. Much of the current discourse remains focused on immediate actions and perceived violations of norms. What is often missing, however, is a broader historical perspective—an understanding of how this order was constructed, and the conditions under which it emerged.The international system that is frequently invoked today did not arise organically. It was designed—deliberately and systematically—in the aftermath of catastrophic global conflict. To understand its current trajectory, it is necessary to revisit how it was conceived and the circumstances that enabled its creation.Even before the Second World War, efforts had been made to construct a more stable global system. Woodrow Wilson’s proposal for a League of Nations following World War I was ultimately rejected by the United States Senate, widely dismissed at the time as idealistic. Yet it established an enduring intellectual premise: that international order could be consciously constructed, rather than left solely to shifting balances of power.That premise re-emerged under far more favourable conditions during and after the Second World War. The Dumbarton Oaks Conference laid the foundations for the United Nations system, while the Bretton Woods Conference established the architecture for global finance. Together, these frameworks shaped not only security and economic relations, but over time trade, development, and governance norms across the international system.The United States played a central role in this process. It provided strategic leadership, political momentum, and the institutional imagination required to translate post-war devastation into a functioning order. At the same time, it engaged selectively—remaining outside certain frameworks such as the International Criminal Court and the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, even as it shaped many others.This system was born out of trauma. The devastation of two world wars brought unprecedented levels of violence and destruction, transforming both the ethics and limits of conflict. A fragile consensus—“never again”—began to take shape. Concepts such as restraint, legitimacy, and moral authority entered the strategic lexicon, tempering the older doctrine of “might is right.” Yet ultimate authority remained concentrated in the hands of a small group of powerful states.Today, that order is visibly under strain.The rise of China, the re-emergence of India, and the renewed assertiveness of Russia, together with the growing influence of regional and middle powers, are reshaping the global balance. At the same time, technological disruption—from artificial intelligence to cyber capabilities—and renewed competition over energy and resources are transforming the foundations of power itself.In this context, debates within the United States have taken on increasing urgency. Some American strategists argue that Washington has been “sleeping at the switch”—that it has failed to assert its dominance decisively and risks strategic drift. Seen through this lens, developments involving Iran become more than regional issues. They become platforms for signalling—not only to Tehran, but to Beijing and other actors in a changing global system.Recent actions underscore a clear reality: the United States still possesses the most advanced and capable military power in history, with unmatched global reach. It is worth noting, however, what has not been used. The restraint shown—particularly the avoidance of escalation into nuclear thresholds or other extreme forms of warfare—may prove as significant as the actions themselves.Yet if current trends continue—where power increasingly substitutes for principle—this will not remain a uniquely American dilemma. Other major and regional powers, including China, India, and an assertive Russia, as well as influential middle powers, may soon face similar strategic choices. As capabilities expand, so too does the temptation—or perceived necessity—to act outside established norms. What begins as exception risks becoming precedent.This is the paradox of great power transition. Once “might” becomes the primary currency of legitimacy, it generates systemic pressure on all major actors to behave in ways that reinforce that logic. In such an environment, restraint is no longer rewarded; it is penalised.At that point, the question is no longer whether the system is under strain, but whether it is capable of renewal.Incremental adjustments and crisis management may stabilise the present, but they do not shape the future. Without a broader framework, they risk becoming a form of strategic drift—managing disorder rather than designing order.There is precedent for such design. The Dumbarton Oaks process itself was not a summit of heads of state, but a structured diplomatic effort conducted by senior officials operating with political authorisation. It was shaped by strong leadership, but also by negotiation, sequencing, and compromise among competing interests.A contemporary equivalent would necessarily be more complex. It would have to reflect a more diffuse distribution of power and a lower level of trust among major actors. It would require an approach that is consultative rather than directive, incremental rather than declaratory, and focused on convergence rather than dominance.Any such effort would need to include the United States, China, India, and Russia as central actors, alongside other major, legacy, and regional powers. India’s role would not be that of a hegemonic architect, but of a credible convenor capable of bridging divides across competing systems and interests.Symbolism would matter. A venue such as Nalanda—once a global centre of learning that drew scholars from across Asia and beyond—offers more than historical resonance. It represents a tradition of intellectual exchange that transcended political boundaries, a space where knowledge, dialogue, and pluralism flourished across cultures and civilisations. In a contemporary context marked by fragmentation and strategic mistrust, such symbolism carries practical value. Nalanda, in this sense, is not merely a place—it is a metaphor for a more open, dialogic, and civilisationally grounded approach to organising international cooperation.In the absence of such an initiative, managed competition will give way to unmanaged rivalry, where stability becomes episodic and crisis becomes the default condition.&nbsp;A durable global architecture will depend on the active participation of the United States, China, India, and Russia—alongside other major, legacy, and regional powers—around which a stable international order must be constructed.The post-war system was not inevitable; it was envisioned, negotiated, and built. As it comes under increasing strain, the central question is whether the international community still possesses the imagination—and discipline—to do so again, before drift hardens into irreversible disorder.&nbsp;Disclaimer: The views of the writer do not represent the views of WION or ZMCL. Nor does WION or ZMCL endorse the views of the writer.

Even before the Second World War, efforts had been made to construct a more stable global system. Woodrow Wilson’s proposal for a League of Nations following World War I was ultimately rejected by the United States Senate, widely dismissed at the time as idealistic.

As geopolitical tensions sharpen and debates over United States actions toward Iran intensify, deeper questions are emerging about the durability of the post-war international order. Much of the current discourse remains focused on immediate actions and perceived violations of norms. What is often missing, however, is a broader historical perspective—an understanding of how this order was constructed, and the conditions under which it emerged. The international system that is frequently invoked today did not arise organically. It was designed—deliberately and systematically—in the aftermath of catastrophic global conflict. To understand its current trajectory, it is necessary to revisit how it was conceived and the circumstances that enabled its creation. Even before the Second World War, efforts had been made to construct a more stable global system. Woodrow Wilson’s proposal for a League of Nations following World War I was ultimately rejected by the United States Senate, widely dismissed at the time as idealistic. Yet it established an enduring intellectual premise: that international order could be consciously constructed, rather than left solely to shifting balances of power. That premise re-emerged under far more favourable conditions during and after the Second World War. The Dumbarton Oaks Conference laid the foundations for the United Nations system, while the Bretton Woods Conference established the architecture for global finance. Together, these frameworks shaped not only security and economic relations, but over time trade, development, and governance norms across the international system. The United States played a central role in this process. It provided strategic leadership, political momentum, and the institutional imagination required to translate post-war devastation into a functioning order. At the same time, it engaged selectively—remaining outside certain frameworks such as the International Criminal Court and the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, even as it shaped many others. This system was born out of trauma. The devastation of two world wars brought unprecedented levels of violence and destruction, transforming both the ethics and limits of conflict. A fragile consensus—“never again”—began to take shape. Concepts such as restraint, legitimacy, and moral authority entered the strategic lexicon, tempering the older doctrine of “might is right.” Yet ultimate authority remained concentrated in the hands of a small group of powerful states. Today, that order is visibly under strain. The rise of China, the re-emergence of India, and the renewed assertiveness of Russia, together with the growing influence of regional and middle powers, are reshaping the global balance. At the same time, technological disruption—from artificial intelligence to cyber capabilities—and renewed competition over energy and resources are transforming the foundations of power itself. In this context, debates within the United States have taken on increasing urgency. Some American strategists argue that Washington has been “sleeping at the switch”—that it has failed to assert its dominance decisively and risks strategic drift. Seen through this lens, developments involving Iran become more than regional issues. They become platforms for signalling—not only to Tehran, but to Beijing and other actors in a changing global system. Recent actions underscore a clear reality: the United States still possesses the most advanced and capable military power in history, with unmatched global reach. It is worth noting, however, what has not been used. The restraint shown—particularly the avoidance of escalation into nuclear thresholds or other extreme forms of warfare—may prove as significant as the actions themselves. Yet if current trends continue—where power increasingly substitutes for principle—this will not remain a uniquely American dilemma. Other major and regional powers, including China, India, and an assertive Russia, as well as influential middle powers, may soon face similar strategic choices. As capabilities expand, so too does the temptation—or perceived necessity—to act outside established norms. What begins as exception risks becoming precedent. This is the paradox of great power transition. Once “might” becomes the primary currency of legitimacy, it generates systemic pressure on all major actors to behave in ways that reinforce that logic. In such an environment, restraint is no longer rewarded; it is penalised. At that point, the question is no longer whether the system is under strain, but whether it is capable of renewal. Incremental adjustments and crisis management may stabilise the present, but they do not shape the future. Without a broader framework, they risk becoming a form of strategic drift—managing disorder rather than designing order. There is precedent for such design. The Dumbarton Oaks process itself was not a summit of heads of state, but a structured diplomatic effort conducted by senior officials operating with political authorisation. It was shaped by strong leadership, but also by negotiation, sequencing, and compromise among competing interests. A contemporary equivalent would necessarily be more complex. It would have to reflect a more diffuse distribution of power and a lower level of trust among major actors. It would require an approach that is consultative rather than directive, incremental rather than declaratory, and focused on convergence rather than dominance. Any such effort would need to include the United States, China, India, and Russia as central actors, alongside other major, legacy, and regional powers. India’s role would not be that of a hegemonic architect, but of a credible convenor capable of bridging divides across competing systems and interests. Symbolism would matter. A venue such as Nalanda—once a global centre of learning that drew scholars from across Asia and beyond—offers more than historical resonance. It represents a tradition of intellectual exchange that transcended political boundaries, a space where knowledge, dialogue, and pluralism flourished across cultures and civilisations. In a contemporary context marked by fragmentation and strategic mistrust, such symbolism carries practical value. Nalanda, in this sense, is not merely a place—it is a metaphor for a more open, dialogic, and civilisationally grounded approach to organising international cooperation. In the absence of such an initiative, managed competition will give way to unmanaged rivalry, where stability becomes episodic and crisis becomes the default condition. A durable global architecture will depend on the active participation of the United States, China, India, and Russia—alongside other major, legacy, and regional powers—around which a stable international order must be constructed. The post-war system was not inevitable; it was envisioned, negotiated, and built. As it comes under increasing strain, the central question is whether the international community still possesses the imagination—and discipline—to do so again, before drift hardens into irreversible disorder. Disclaimer: The views of the writer do not represent the views of WION or ZMCL. Nor does WION or ZMCL endorse the views of the writer.

Even before the Second World War, efforts had been made to construct a more stable global system. Woodrow Wilson’s proposal for a League of Nations following World War I was ultimately rejected by the United States Senate, widely dismissed at the time as idealistic.

From Dumbarton Oaks to Nalanda: The Emerging Strain on the Post-War Order

India was not overlooked when the United States chose Pakistan as a facilitator in negotiating the recent two-week ceasefire. It was bypassed—for a reason. The debate in New Delhi over “why not India?” misses the larger point. It reflects a lingering tendency to view global events through a regional or status lens, rather than through the harder logic of great power politics. That logic is now unmistakably shaping the emerging world order. We are moving toward a system defined by a handful of major powers—the United States, China, India, and possibly Russia—alongside a European Union that remains an economic and regulatory heavyweight despite its internal complexities. In such a system, relationships are no longer linear. Countries engage each other simultaneously as partners, competitors, and, when necessary, rivals. Recent remarks by U.S. Deputy Secretary of State Christopher Landau at the 2026 Raisina Dialogue should be read in this context. While affirming the importance of expanding economic ties with India, he made it equally clear that Washington would do so while protecting its own national interests. His reference to avoiding past “mistakes” with China was particularly telling—it signalled that the United States will not support India’s rise in ways that could eventually challenge American economic primacy. In other words, India has arrived at the “big boys’ table”—and at that table, sentiment gives way to strategy. India today is no longer merely a regional actor. As the world’s most populous country, a leading economic power, a major military force, and an aspirant to permanent membership in the UN Security Council, it occupies a fundamentally different position. This elevation brings opportunity—but also a more complex engagement with the United States, marked by cooperation in some areas and competition in others. Nowhere is this complexity clearer than in the shifting geopolitics of energy and supply chains. The tensions involving Iran are not just about regional stability; they are also about influence over energy flows, logistics corridors, and financial systems. As the world’s third-largest consumer of petroleum, India is deeply exposed to these dynamics. But India’s stakes extend well beyond energy. Its growing role in technology, digital infrastructure, pharmaceuticals, manufacturing, and global services places it at the heart of multiple strategic sectors that will define the next phase of globalisation. Increasingly, this also includes artificial intelligence, robotics, nuclear energy, and control over critical minerals—areas central to the future distribution of economic and strategic power. In each of these domains, India is not only a partner to major powers like the United States—it is also an emerging competitor. Against this backdrop, Pakistan’s role as a facilitator—rather than a mediator—becomes easier to understand. For Washington, Islamabad remains a useful, if limited, tactical instrument in specific geopolitical situations. Expecting the United States to reassign such roles based on India’s rising status misunderstands the fundamentally transactional nature of great power behaviour.&nbsp;Also Read: <a href="https://www.wionews.com/world/kamala-harris-hints-at-2028-white-house-bid-says-i-might-run-again-1775842571348">Kamala Harris hints at 2028 White House bid, says ‘I might run again’</a>&nbsp;India’s response, therefore, must be calibrated at a higher level. Rather than reacting to individual diplomatic choices, India’s larger opportunity lies in shaping the agenda of the emerging order. As a leading voice of the Global South, with significant human capital and growing technological and economic weight, India is well-positioned to influence the evolving architecture of energy, finance, technology, and global governance—working not only with the United States and China, but also with the European Union, Japan, and other key middle powers. The scale of global disruption—from West Asia to Europe, and across the technological domain—suggests that the rules of the system are being rewritten in real time. India has both the capacity and the strategic space to help shape those rules. But a seat at the top table comes with a cost: constant scrutiny, competition, and pressure to deliver. Managing relations with the United States will, therefore, remain a delicate exercise. Both countries need each other in the present moment, yet their long-term trajectories ensure periodic divergence. Alignment will be selective, not automatic. Friction will be structural, not accidental. While Graham Allison’s “Thucydides Trap” often frames global politics as a contest between a rising China and the established United States, the real world is far more complex. This complexity—marked by multiple rising powers, shifting alliances, and sectoral competition—creates both challenges and opportunities for countries like India, which can manoeuvre, shape outcomes, and avoid being locked into rigid blocs. Doing so will require strategic clarity, patience, and diplomatic agility—qualities that India’s current foreign policy establishment has increasingly demonstrated. Winston Churchill once observed that Americans will always do the right thing—only after they have tried everything else. Many today may question whether that still holds in a more polarised and unpredictable world. Yet the underlying insight remains relevant: U.S. policy may fluctuate tactically, but it is consistently anchored in the pursuit of national interest. For India, the lesson is straightforward. At the top table, relevance is not assumed—it is constantly tested, negotiated, and re-earned.

We are moving toward a system defined by a handful of major powers—the United States, China, India, and possibly Russia—alongside a European Union that remains an economic and regulatory heavyweight despite its internal complexities.

India was not overlooked when the United States chose Pakistan as a facilitator in negotiating the recent two-week ceasefire. It was bypassed—for a reason. The debate in New Delhi over “why not India?” misses the larger point. It reflects a lingering tendency to view global events through a regional or status lens, rather than through the harder logic of great power politics. That logic is now unmistakably shaping the emerging world order. We are moving toward a system defined by a handful of major powers—the United States, China, India, and possibly Russia—alongside a European Union that remains an economic and regulatory heavyweight despite its internal complexities. In such a system, relationships are no longer linear. Countries engage each other simultaneously as partners, competitors, and, when necessary, rivals. Recent remarks by U.S. Deputy Secretary of State Christopher Landau at the 2026 Raisina Dialogue should be read in this context. While affirming the importance of expanding economic ties with India, he made it equally clear that Washington would do so while protecting its own national interests. His reference to avoiding past “mistakes” with China was particularly telling—it signalled that the United States will not support India’s rise in ways that could eventually challenge American economic primacy. In other words, India has arrived at the “big boys’ table”—and at that table, sentiment gives way to strategy. India today is no longer merely a regional actor. As the world’s most populous country, a leading economic power, a major military force, and an aspirant to permanent membership in the UN Security Council, it occupies a fundamentally different position. This elevation brings opportunity—but also a more complex engagement with the United States, marked by cooperation in some areas and competition in others. Nowhere is this complexity clearer than in the shifting geopolitics of energy and supply chains. The tensions involving Iran are not just about regional stability; they are also about influence over energy flows, logistics corridors, and financial systems. As the world’s third-largest consumer of petroleum, India is deeply exposed to these dynamics. But India’s stakes extend well beyond energy. Its growing role in technology, digital infrastructure, pharmaceuticals, manufacturing, and global services places it at the heart of multiple strategic sectors that will define the next phase of globalisation. Increasingly, this also includes artificial intelligence, robotics, nuclear energy, and control over critical minerals—areas central to the future distribution of economic and strategic power. In each of these domains, India is not only a partner to major powers like the United States—it is also an emerging competitor. Against this backdrop, Pakistan’s role as a facilitator—rather than a mediator—becomes easier to understand. For Washington, Islamabad remains a useful, if limited, tactical instrument in specific geopolitical situations. Expecting the United States to reassign such roles based on India’s rising status misunderstands the fundamentally transactional nature of great power behaviour. Also Read: Kamala Harris hints at 2028 White House bid, says ‘I might run again’ India’s response, therefore, must be calibrated at a higher level. Rather than reacting to individual diplomatic choices, India’s larger opportunity lies in shaping the agenda of the emerging order. As a leading voice of the Global South, with significant human capital and growing technological and economic weight, India is well-positioned to influence the evolving architecture of energy, finance, technology, and global governance—working not only with the United States and China, but also with the European Union, Japan, and other key middle powers. The scale of global disruption—from West Asia to Europe, and across the technological domain—suggests that the rules of the system are being rewritten in real time. India has both the capacity and the strategic space to help shape those rules. But a seat at the top table comes with a cost: constant scrutiny, competition, and pressure to deliver. Managing relations with the United States will, therefore, remain a delicate exercise. Both countries need each other in the present moment, yet their long-term trajectories ensure periodic divergence. Alignment will be selective, not automatic. Friction will be structural, not accidental. While Graham Allison’s “Thucydides Trap” often frames global politics as a contest between a rising China and the established United States, the real world is far more complex. This complexity—marked by multiple rising powers, shifting alliances, and sectoral competition—creates both challenges and opportunities for countries like India, which can manoeuvre, shape outcomes, and avoid being locked into rigid blocs. Doing so will require strategic clarity, patience, and diplomatic agility—qualities that India’s current foreign policy establishment has increasingly demonstrated. Winston Churchill once observed that Americans will always do the right thing—only after they have tried everything else. Many today may question whether that still holds in a more polarised and unpredictable world. Yet the underlying insight remains relevant: U.S. policy may fluctuate tactically, but it is consistently anchored in the pursuit of national interest. For India, the lesson is straightforward. At the top table, relevance is not assumed—it is constantly tested, negotiated, and re-earned.

We are moving toward a system defined by a handful of major powers—the United States, China, India, and possibly Russia—alongside a European Union that remains an economic and regulatory heavyweight despite its internal complexities.

India Wasn’t Overlooked — It Has Arrived at the Top Table

Across South Asia today, a striking pattern has emerged. In Bangladesh, Nepal, and Sri Lanka, young people took to the streets—driven by frustration over economic stagnation, governance failures, and lack of opportunity. In each country, these movements have reshaped politics, bringing new governments into power.&nbsp;The dominant question is: why did these youth uprisings happen?&nbsp;But that may be the wrong question.&nbsp;The more uncomfortable—and more instructive—question is this: why is India not experiencing similar instability at scale? With a population exceeding 1.4 billion, immense diversity, and persistent inequality, India appears far more vulnerable. Yet, despite imperfections, it has sustained economic momentum, relative stability, and growing global influence.&nbsp;At the heart of India’s trajectory is leadership focused on growth and modernization—execution that matches rhetoric, policies that build investor confidence, and a bureaucracy largely aligned with the vision. Scale alone is insufficient; what matters is how it is leveraged.&nbsp;A large domestic market, a skilled workforce, and a competitive federal structure create a dynamic internal ecosystem. Indian states actively compete for investment and talent, fostering efficiency and innovation in ways smaller neighbors struggle to replicate. Importantly, India has coupled its size with outward-looking engagement, welcoming technology, capital, and partnerships rather than retreating inward.&nbsp;Democracy, despite its noise, acts as a safety valve. Citizens at multiple levels can express discontent, assert identity, and demand change—a pressure release that prevents destabilization. Equally important is India’s civilizational rootedness. National unity and self-confidence are anchored not in uniformity, but in the recognition of its long history, diverse traditions, and cultural heritage. Leaders have managed to stay grounded in culture while embracing modern governance, technology, and economic innovation—blending tradition with transformation. This balance reinforces social cohesion, nurtures a sense of belonging, and allows modernization without alienating communities.&nbsp;Technology amplifies impact. Digital public infrastructure, frontier sectors like AI, biotechnology, and EdTech, and investment in transparency-driven systems are transforming the country. Social programs aim to bridge gaps, though inequality remains a central challenge—a test for whether growth can be inclusive enough to sustain stability. National security and indigenous capabilities, paired with selective global sourcing, strengthen strategic confidence. Yet a paradox persists: even as India articulates a “Neighborhood First” policy, many neighbors hesitate to engage, while much of the world accelerates its engagement with India.&nbsp;The contrast is striking. Across parts of South Asia, youth energy manifests in protest. In India, it channels into education, entrepreneurship, and the evolving economy. Youth energy, when aligned with opportunity, builds economies; when constrained, it destabilizes them.&nbsp;India’s advantage is not a single factor—it is the alignment of political intent, administrative execution, and societal aspiration. South Asia’s lesson is clear: talent and potential abound, but systems must rise to meet youthful ambition. The question for South Asia is not whether its youth will rise—but whether its systems are ready to channel that energy toward growth, stability, and shared prosperity.

The more uncomfortable—and more instructive—question is this: why is India not experiencing similar instability at scale? With a population exceeding 1.4 billion, immense diversity, and persistent inequality, India appears far more vulnerable.

Across South Asia today, a striking pattern has emerged. In Bangladesh, Nepal, and Sri Lanka, young people took to the streets—driven by frustration over economic stagnation, governance failures, and lack of opportunity. In each country, these movements have reshaped politics, bringing new governments into power. The dominant question is: why did these youth uprisings happen? But that may be the wrong question. The more uncomfortable—and more instructive—question is this: why is India not experiencing similar instability at scale? With a population exceeding 1.4 billion, immense diversity, and persistent inequality, India appears far more vulnerable. Yet, despite imperfections, it has sustained economic momentum, relative stability, and growing global influence. At the heart of India’s trajectory is leadership focused on growth and modernization—execution that matches rhetoric, policies that build investor confidence, and a bureaucracy largely aligned with the vision. Scale alone is insufficient; what matters is how it is leveraged. A large domestic market, a skilled workforce, and a competitive federal structure create a dynamic internal ecosystem. Indian states actively compete for investment and talent, fostering efficiency and innovation in ways smaller neighbors struggle to replicate. Importantly, India has coupled its size with outward-looking engagement, welcoming technology, capital, and partnerships rather than retreating inward. Democracy, despite its noise, acts as a safety valve. Citizens at multiple levels can express discontent, assert identity, and demand change—a pressure release that prevents destabilization. Equally important is India’s civilizational rootedness. National unity and self-confidence are anchored not in uniformity, but in the recognition of its long history, diverse traditions, and cultural heritage. Leaders have managed to stay grounded in culture while embracing modern governance, technology, and economic innovation—blending tradition with transformation. This balance reinforces social cohesion, nurtures a sense of belonging, and allows modernization without alienating communities. Technology amplifies impact. Digital public infrastructure, frontier sectors like AI, biotechnology, and EdTech, and investment in transparency-driven systems are transforming the country. Social programs aim to bridge gaps, though inequality remains a central challenge—a test for whether growth can be inclusive enough to sustain stability. National security and indigenous capabilities, paired with selective global sourcing, strengthen strategic confidence. Yet a paradox persists: even as India articulates a “Neighborhood First” policy, many neighbors hesitate to engage, while much of the world accelerates its engagement with India. The contrast is striking. Across parts of South Asia, youth energy manifests in protest. In India, it channels into education, entrepreneurship, and the evolving economy. Youth energy, when aligned with opportunity, builds economies; when constrained, it destabilizes them. India’s advantage is not a single factor—it is the alignment of political intent, administrative execution, and societal aspiration. South Asia’s lesson is clear: talent and potential abound, but systems must rise to meet youthful ambition. The question for South Asia is not whether its youth will rise—but whether its systems are ready to channel that energy toward growth, stability, and shared prosperity.

The more uncomfortable—and more instructive—question is this: why is India not experiencing similar instability at scale? With a population exceeding 1.4 billion, immense diversity, and persistent inequality, India appears far more vulnerable.

Why India’s youth hustle while South Asia’s protest

As the world navigates rising inflation, supply chain disruptions, and intensifying geopolitical tensions, a new form of economic competition is emerging—less about outproducing rivals, and more about limiting their ability to compete at all.&nbsp;Sustained national prosperity rarely comes from caution. It is shaped—often messily—by risk-takers: innovators and entrepreneurs with vision, instinct, and commercial acumen, willing to make large bets under uncertainty. Their methods can be abrasive to experience in real time. But history suggests that no more reliable engine of national economic strength has yet been found than enterprise that is able to scale.&nbsp;When that capacity emerges elsewhere, states often respond not only by competing harder but also by tightening access—markets, capital, and rules of participation—in effect policing rival champions. “Policing” here can be overt—through tariffs and procurement bans—or more subtle, via financial constraints, licensing obstacles, standards barriers, and selectively applied rules. The label changes; the effect is similar: market denial.&nbsp;The United States is itself a product of the scale-building phase. America’s rise was driven not merely by ideals or institutions but by builders who mobilised capital at scale and created the industrial backbone of modern life—railroads, steel, oil, finance, and manufacturing. The classic “robber baron” era produced figures such as John D. Rockefeller, Andrew Carnegie, Cornelius Vanderbilt, J. P. Morgan, Andrew Mellon, and Jay Gould: controversial, sometimes ruthless, but undeniably formative in the construction of American industrial power. Many also later turned to large-scale philanthropy—endowing universities, libraries, research, museums, and foundations that helped shape American civic and educational life.&nbsp;America also illustrates the familiar sequencing: societies often tolerate a period of excess while capabilities are being built, and then rein in abuse once costs become politically and socially unacceptable. The Progressive Era and Theodore Roosevelt’s trust-busting posture reflected that logic—permit industrial formation to occur, then impose anti-monopoly discipline to curb predation and restore legitimacy. The point is not to romanticise excess, but to recognise that strong systems can both enable scale and later enforce limits.&nbsp;Across parts of the US political spectrum, there is a belief that the United States has lost its economic mojo. Complacency, cultural conflict, and regulatory and institutional drift are seen as taking hold just as other economies have grown faster and more ambitious. Rebuilding competitiveness is a legitimate objective. But there is a difference between renewing domestic strength and suppressing or containing foreign champions. Too often, the instinct is to treat other countries’ large firms not as competitors to out-produce and out-execute, but as threats to be suppressed or contained—through exclusion, punitive measures, or moralised criteria governments selectively apply.&nbsp;The rhetoric is no longer always cloaked in virtue; it is increasingly explicit about national interest. Either way, the practical outcome is often market denial.&nbsp;This is not uniquely American behaviour. The institutional mix differs across countries, but the pattern recurs: Japan rebuilt through corporate reorganisation and export drive; South Korea scaled through conglomerates aligned with national goals; China’s rise has depended heavily on firms and ecosystems able to take risks and scale rapidly. India, too, has never lacked entrepreneurs—from early industrial and trading pioneers to later builders of manufacturing, services, and national infrastructure. Many Indian entrepreneurs have also built major philanthropic institutions—supporting education, healthcare, scientific research, and cultural initiatives alongside enterprise and scale, in ways that few other countries have rivalled. Across systems, economic strength ultimately rests on human initiative and execution—plus the ability to scale.&nbsp;A contemporary variant is visible in the Gulf. Over the past two decades, state-linked enterprises have built globally significant positions in logistics, ports, energy, aviation, finance, and advanced services—combining strategic direction with commercial execution to create national capability in competitive sectors. It is a reminder that the route to scale often differs across systems, but the underlying logic of power-building through enterprise is persistent.&nbsp;Keynes remains useful here. He called the impulse that drives investment and innovation “animal spirits”—the spontaneous urge to act under uncertainty that no amount of planning can fully replace. When the United States is confident, it celebrates these spirits at home. When it feels anxious, it is tempted to police their emergence abroad.&nbsp;For India’s leadership, the implication is straightforward: treat market access and rule-setting as instruments of competition, not neutral features of the system. When access tightens, it may be justified as principle or national interest; either way, it should be read as strategy. India’s next phase of growth—exports, manufacturing depth, infrastructure scale, and technology upgrading—will depend on entrepreneurs with judgment under uncertainty and the ability to execute at scale. As champions emerge and scale—and as existing ones grow—they are treated not only as commercial actors, but as geopolitical ones.&nbsp;There is also a price to this cycle. Champion-building and winner-take-most dynamics concentrate wealth; gaps widen; those outside the growth story become resentful—fuel for political backlash. In a technological transition, that stress intensifies: productivity rises, but wage dispersion can widen and mid-skill work can be hollowed out. If this era is going to be competitive, it will also have to be governable. Governments and entrepreneurs alike will need to think beyond scale—to the institutions and policies that keep growth socially and politically sustainable.In a world where access itself is contested, success will depend not just on the ability to compete—but on the ability to endure.&nbsp;(Disclaimer: The views of the writer do not represent the views of WION or ZMCL. Nor does WION or ZMCL endorse the views of the writer.)

Across parts of the US political spectrum, there is a belief that the United States has lost its economic mojo. Complacency, cultural conflict, and regulatory and institutional drift are seen as taking hold just as other economies have grown faster and more ambitious.

As the world navigates rising inflation, supply chain disruptions, and intensifying geopolitical tensions, a new form of economic competition is emerging—less about outproducing rivals, and more about limiting their ability to compete at all. Sustained national prosperity rarely comes from caution. It is shaped—often messily—by risk-takers: innovators and entrepreneurs with vision, instinct, and commercial acumen, willing to make large bets under uncertainty. Their methods can be abrasive to experience in real time. But history suggests that no more reliable engine of national economic strength has yet been found than enterprise that is able to scale. When that capacity emerges elsewhere, states often respond not only by competing harder but also by tightening access—markets, capital, and rules of participation—in effect policing rival champions. “Policing” here can be overt—through tariffs and procurement bans—or more subtle, via financial constraints, licensing obstacles, standards barriers, and selectively applied rules. The label changes; the effect is similar: market denial. The United States is itself a product of the scale-building phase. America’s rise was driven not merely by ideals or institutions but by builders who mobilised capital at scale and created the industrial backbone of modern life—railroads, steel, oil, finance, and manufacturing. The classic “robber baron” era produced figures such as John D. Rockefeller, Andrew Carnegie, Cornelius Vanderbilt, J. P. Morgan, Andrew Mellon, and Jay Gould: controversial, sometimes ruthless, but undeniably formative in the construction of American industrial power. Many also later turned to large-scale philanthropy—endowing universities, libraries, research, museums, and foundations that helped shape American civic and educational life. America also illustrates the familiar sequencing: societies often tolerate a period of excess while capabilities are being built, and then rein in abuse once costs become politically and socially unacceptable. The Progressive Era and Theodore Roosevelt’s trust-busting posture reflected that logic—permit industrial formation to occur, then impose anti-monopoly discipline to curb predation and restore legitimacy. The point is not to romanticise excess, but to recognise that strong systems can both enable scale and later enforce limits. Across parts of the US political spectrum, there is a belief that the United States has lost its economic mojo. Complacency, cultural conflict, and regulatory and institutional drift are seen as taking hold just as other economies have grown faster and more ambitious. Rebuilding competitiveness is a legitimate objective. But there is a difference between renewing domestic strength and suppressing or containing foreign champions. Too often, the instinct is to treat other countries’ large firms not as competitors to out-produce and out-execute, but as threats to be suppressed or contained—through exclusion, punitive measures, or moralised criteria governments selectively apply. The rhetoric is no longer always cloaked in virtue; it is increasingly explicit about national interest. Either way, the practical outcome is often market denial. This is not uniquely American behaviour. The institutional mix differs across countries, but the pattern recurs: Japan rebuilt through corporate reorganisation and export drive; South Korea scaled through conglomerates aligned with national goals; China’s rise has depended heavily on firms and ecosystems able to take risks and scale rapidly. India, too, has never lacked entrepreneurs—from early industrial and trading pioneers to later builders of manufacturing, services, and national infrastructure. Many Indian entrepreneurs have also built major philanthropic institutions—supporting education, healthcare, scientific research, and cultural initiatives alongside enterprise and scale, in ways that few other countries have rivalled. Across systems, economic strength ultimately rests on human initiative and execution—plus the ability to scale. A contemporary variant is visible in the Gulf. Over the past two decades, state-linked enterprises have built globally significant positions in logistics, ports, energy, aviation, finance, and advanced services—combining strategic direction with commercial execution to create national capability in competitive sectors. It is a reminder that the route to scale often differs across systems, but the underlying logic of power-building through enterprise is persistent. Keynes remains useful here. He called the impulse that drives investment and innovation “animal spirits”—the spontaneous urge to act under uncertainty that no amount of planning can fully replace. When the United States is confident, it celebrates these spirits at home. When it feels anxious, it is tempted to police their emergence abroad. For India’s leadership, the implication is straightforward: treat market access and rule-setting as instruments of competition, not neutral features of the system. When access tightens, it may be justified as principle or national interest; either way, it should be read as strategy. India’s next phase of growth—exports, manufacturing depth, infrastructure scale, and technology upgrading—will depend on entrepreneurs with judgment under uncertainty and the ability to execute at scale. As champions emerge and scale—and as existing ones grow—they are treated not only as commercial actors, but as geopolitical ones. There is also a price to this cycle. Champion-building and winner-take-most dynamics concentrate wealth; gaps widen; those outside the growth story become resentful—fuel for political backlash. In a technological transition, that stress intensifies: productivity rises, but wage dispersion can widen and mid-skill work can be hollowed out. If this era is going to be competitive, it will also have to be governable. Governments and entrepreneurs alike will need to think beyond scale—to the institutions and policies that keep growth socially and politically sustainable. In a world where access itself is contested, success will depend not just on the ability to compete—but on the ability to endure. (Disclaimer: The views of the writer do not represent the views of WION or ZMCL. Nor does WION or ZMCL endorse the views of the writer.)

Across parts of the US political spectrum, there is a belief that the United States has lost its economic mojo. Complacency, cultural conflict, and regulatory and institutional drift are seen as taking hold just as other economies have grown faster and more ambitious.

Competing by exclusion: The return of economic containment

The renewed tensions around the Persian Gulf — marked by heightened naval deployments, threats to tanker traffic and rising volatility in oil markets — are an early signal that the foundations of the global order are being reconfigured.What appears on the surface to be a regional confrontation is unfolding at the intersection of several deeper shifts: the strategic importance of energy chokepoints, the emergence of new digital financial infrastructure, and intensifying competition over critical resources.Military tensions around the Gulf have intensified. Western policymakers have again turned their attention to major oil producers such as Venezuela. At the same time, Washington has been moving toward a clearer regulatory framework for cryptocurrencies and dollar-backed stablecoins — developments that together point to a deeper strategic adjustment.The United States appears to be adapting the foundations of its long-standing global influence to a world increasingly shaped by technological disruption, geopolitical rivalry and shifting energy dynamics.For decades, the international system rested on what became known as the petrodollar order. Oil was traded largely in US dollars. Those dollars flowed back into American financial markets through purchases of Treasury securities and other assets. Meanwhile, the sea lanes carrying global energy supplies were secured by US naval power.Energy flows, financial markets and maritime security reinforced one another, placing the dollar at the centre of global commerce.That structure is now under pressure.China has emerged as the world’s largest manufacturing power and a central hub in global supply chains. Alternative payment mechanisms are proliferating. Some countries have begun experimenting with non-dollar energy transactions. At the same time, the scale of US public debt has expanded sharply, raising questions about the durability of global demand for dollar assets.Preserving monetary dominance in this environment requires adaptation.One sign of that adaptation lies in Washington’s growing focus on dollar-backed stablecoins. These digital tokens maintain a fixed value against the US dollar and are typically backed by reserves held in short-term US Treasury securities or dollar deposits.If stablecoins become widely used for cross-border payments, issuers will need to hold substantial quantities of dollar assets in reserve. This creates a new structural source of demand for US government debt.In effect, stablecoins could become a digital extension of the dollar system, embedding American financial influence within the infrastructure of global digital payments while reinforcing demand for US financial assets.Yet financial power alone has never sustained global primacy.The tensions unfolding in the Persian Gulf underline the continuing importance of energy and maritime geography. Nearly a fifth of the world’s oil passes through the Strait of Hormuz, one of the most sensitive chokepoints in the global economy. Any disruption there would ripple immediately through energy markets.Even as countries speak of energy transition, petroleum remains central to the functioning of the global economy. Control over energy flows — and the sea lanes that carry them — continues to confer immense geopolitical leverage.The Gulf crisis also highlights another strategic reality: China’s growing energy vulnerability.China is now the world’s largest importer of crude oil, much of it sourced from the Persian Gulf and transported across the Indian Ocean toward East Asia. This dependence creates what Chinese strategists call the “Malacca dilemma” — the vulnerability of China’s energy lifeline to disruption along maritime chokepoints.The security of the Gulf, therefore, carries implications not only for global markets but also for the balance of power in Asia.A parallel contest is unfolding over the resources that will power the technologies of the future. Lithium, cobalt, nickel, copper and rare earth elements are essential inputs for electric vehicles, semiconductors and artificial intelligence infrastructure. Control over these supply chains is rapidly becoming as strategically significant as control over oil was in the twentieth century.Together, these forces are reshaping the strategic foundations of the global system.The system that underpinned American dominance rested on three pillars: the dollar, energy markets and maritime power. The emerging system is taking shape around four: digital dollar networks, global capital markets, control over energy and mineral supply chains, and military power capable of securing the sea lanes through which these resources move.This does not mean the world is returning to uncontested American supremacy. China retains major advantages in manufacturing, infrastructure development and mineral processing. Beijing is expanding economic partnerships across Asia, Africa and Latin America while promoting alternative financial arrangements.The emerging global system is therefore likely to resemble a hybrid order — one in which financial power remains concentrated in the United States while industrial capacity and production networks become more widely distributed.For India, this evolving landscape presents both opportunity and risk.India’s growing technological capabilities and expanding economy position it well to benefit from the diversification of global supply chains. Partnerships in advanced manufacturing, semiconductors, digital infrastructure and critical minerals could significantly strengthen India’s strategic position.At the same time, India remains deeply exposed to developments in the Persian Gulf. A large share of India’s oil imports passes through the Strait of Hormuz. Any sustained disruption in that corridor would have immediate economic consequences.Yet India’s geography also offers a strategic advantage.The sea lanes connecting the Persian Gulf to East Asia pass directly across the Indian Ocean, the principal artery of the world’s energy trade. Positioned near the midpoint of these routes, India occupies a uniquely important location in the emerging maritime system.During the twentieth century, the North Atlantic formed the strategic centre of the global order. In the twenty-first century, the Indian Ocean is increasingly assuming that role.For India, the ability to help secure these maritime corridors could become one of its most significant strategic contributions to global stability.The Gulf crisis may therefore prove to be more than a regional confrontation. It is an early warning that the structure of global power is changing — and that the states which recognise this shift first will shape the rules of the next international order.Disclaimer: The views of the writer do not represent the views of WION or ZMCL. Nor does WION or ZMCL endorse the views of the writer.

India’s growing technological capabilities and expanding economy position it well to benefit from the diversification of global supply chains. 

The renewed tensions around the Persian Gulf — marked by heightened naval deployments, threats to tanker traffic and rising volatility in oil markets — are an early signal that the foundations of the global order are being reconfigured. What appears on the surface to be a regional confrontation is unfolding at the intersection of several deeper shifts: the strategic importance of energy chokepoints, the emergence of new digital financial infrastructure, and intensifying competition over critical resources. Military tensions around the Gulf have intensified. Western policymakers have again turned their attention to major oil producers such as Venezuela. At the same time, Washington has been moving toward a clearer regulatory framework for cryptocurrencies and dollar-backed stablecoins — developments that together point to a deeper strategic adjustment. The United States appears to be adapting the foundations of its long-standing global influence to a world increasingly shaped by technological disruption, geopolitical rivalry and shifting energy dynamics. For decades, the international system rested on what became known as the petrodollar order. Oil was traded largely in US dollars. Those dollars flowed back into American financial markets through purchases of Treasury securities and other assets. Meanwhile, the sea lanes carrying global energy supplies were secured by US naval power. Energy flows, financial markets and maritime security reinforced one another, placing the dollar at the centre of global commerce. That structure is now under pressure. China has emerged as the world’s largest manufacturing power and a central hub in global supply chains. Alternative payment mechanisms are proliferating. Some countries have begun experimenting with non-dollar energy transactions. At the same time, the scale of US public debt has expanded sharply, raising questions about the durability of global demand for dollar assets. Preserving monetary dominance in this environment requires adaptation. One sign of that adaptation lies in Washington’s growing focus on dollar-backed stablecoins. These digital tokens maintain a fixed value against the US dollar and are typically backed by reserves held in short-term US Treasury securities or dollar deposits. If stablecoins become widely used for cross-border payments, issuers will need to hold substantial quantities of dollar assets in reserve. This creates a new structural source of demand for US government debt. In effect, stablecoins could become a digital extension of the dollar system, embedding American financial influence within the infrastructure of global digital payments while reinforcing demand for US financial assets. Yet financial power alone has never sustained global primacy. The tensions unfolding in the Persian Gulf underline the continuing importance of energy and maritime geography. Nearly a fifth of the world’s oil passes through the Strait of Hormuz, one of the most sensitive chokepoints in the global economy. Any disruption there would ripple immediately through energy markets. Even as countries speak of energy transition, petroleum remains central to the functioning of the global economy. Control over energy flows — and the sea lanes that carry them — continues to confer immense geopolitical leverage. The Gulf crisis also highlights another strategic reality: China’s growing energy vulnerability. China is now the world’s largest importer of crude oil, much of it sourced from the Persian Gulf and transported across the Indian Ocean toward East Asia. This dependence creates what Chinese strategists call the “Malacca dilemma” — the vulnerability of China’s energy lifeline to disruption along maritime chokepoints. The security of the Gulf, therefore, carries implications not only for global markets but also for the balance of power in Asia. A parallel contest is unfolding over the resources that will power the technologies of the future. Lithium, cobalt, nickel, copper and rare earth elements are essential inputs for electric vehicles, semiconductors and artificial intelligence infrastructure. Control over these supply chains is rapidly becoming as strategically significant as control over oil was in the twentieth century. Together, these forces are reshaping the strategic foundations of the global system. The system that underpinned American dominance rested on three pillars: the dollar, energy markets and maritime power. The emerging system is taking shape around four: digital dollar networks, global capital markets, control over energy and mineral supply chains, and military power capable of securing the sea lanes through which these resources move. This does not mean the world is returning to uncontested American supremacy. China retains major advantages in manufacturing, infrastructure development and mineral processing. Beijing is expanding economic partnerships across Asia, Africa and Latin America while promoting alternative financial arrangements. The emerging global system is therefore likely to resemble a hybrid order — one in which financial power remains concentrated in the United States while industrial capacity and production networks become more widely distributed. For India, this evolving landscape presents both opportunity and risk. India’s growing technological capabilities and expanding economy position it well to benefit from the diversification of global supply chains. Partnerships in advanced manufacturing, semiconductors, digital infrastructure and critical minerals could significantly strengthen India’s strategic position. At the same time, India remains deeply exposed to developments in the Persian Gulf. A large share of India’s oil imports passes through the Strait of Hormuz. Any sustained disruption in that corridor would have immediate economic consequences. Yet India’s geography also offers a strategic advantage. The sea lanes connecting the Persian Gulf to East Asia pass directly across the Indian Ocean, the principal artery of the world’s energy trade. Positioned near the midpoint of these routes, India occupies a uniquely important location in the emerging maritime system. During the twentieth century, the North Atlantic formed the strategic centre of the global order. In the twenty-first century, the Indian Ocean is increasingly assuming that role. For India, the ability to help secure these maritime corridors could become one of its most significant strategic contributions to global stability. The Gulf crisis may therefore prove to be more than a regional confrontation. It is an early warning that the structure of global power is changing — and that the states which recognise this shift first will shape the rules of the next international order. Disclaimer: The views of the writer do not represent the views of WION or ZMCL. Nor does WION or ZMCL endorse the views of the writer.

India’s growing technological capabilities and expanding economy position it well to benefit from the diversification of global supply chains.

Why the Gulf crisis could reshape the global order — and India’s role in it

Author

Zee News Rajasthan

Editor

Milinda Moragoda

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