In the glittering ballroom of geopolitics, the latest dance sensation is the Donald Trump-Asim Munir waltz, a performance so brazen, so self-absorbed, that one could be forgiven for thinking it was a satire penned by Hans Christian Andersen himself. Unfortunately, it is real. There they are: Donald Trump, the comeback emperor of Mar-a-Lago, and Field Marshal Asim Munir, the ceremonial strongman of Rawalpindi, twirling to the rhythm of their egos. The silk robes they imagine themselves wearing. Pure illusion. The rest of the world can see the truth, but as in Andersen’s tale, the courtiers clap anyway, lest they lose their place at the banquet. Duplicity is the guest of honour at this ball.
First, the United States, in an act of acrobatic diplomacy, insists that Pakistan – the same Pakistan that has cultivated, sheltered, and exported terrorism for decades – is its ‘counterterrorism partner’. This is like hiring the fox to run the henhouse and then applauding his ‘security arrangements.’ Washington’s scriptwriters have pulled this trick for years, mistaking convenience for principle. Consider the oil melodrama. China guzzles more Russian oil than India could dream of importing, yet it is India that gets the threat of penalties. Why? Because China is the bully in the playground with an army at its back, while India, though increasingly assertive, is still seen as the democratic partner to be reprimanded for infractions others commit with impunity. It is not strategy; it is plain US cowardice vis-a-vis China, and it reeks of hypocrisy.
The other blustering pretender, Field Marshal Munir, is a man who, in the ledger of recent military history, chalked up defeat against India. In a world where merit should matter, this might have meant a quiet retirement. In Pakistan’s theatre of the absurd, however, it meant promotion to Field Marshal – a ceremonial title dressed up as a triumph. And what does he do with his new finery? While on US soil, he brandishes the nuclear card. Imagine turning up at your host’s dinner party and threatening to burn the house down, and then still being toasted with champagne.
Trump and Munir are united by more than convenience. They are both deeply committed to the art of self-regard. Each is convinced of his indispensability and prepared to bend the stage lights until they shine only on him. Narcissism is their shared language, vanity their currency. Their duet is dangerous because the courtiers – governments, think tanks, and a depressingly compliant media – are playing along. ‘What an impressive counterterrorism partner,’ they say of Pakistan. ‘What a statesmanlike energy policy,’ they nod to China while admonishing India. The truth-tellers are rare and usually shouted down for spoiling the party. The costs of indulging naked emperors are steep. Counterterrorism becomes a stage prop. Economic sanctions morph into geopolitical theatre, punishing the easiest to push around rather than the most culpable. Regional tensions are stoked because confrontation makes for better headlines than quiet resolution. And the actual business of building a fair, stable, and rules-based world order is banished.
India, caught between this Narcissist waltz and the realpolitik backstage, has little choice but to play the long game. There is no point in expecting fairness from an arrangement that rewards spectacle over substance. With the US, India must engage pragmatically – cooperate on technology, trade, and defence where mutual interests align – without imagining that a ‘strategic partnership’ means immunity from arm-twisting. With Pakistan, strategic firmness must remain the guiding principle and, when necessary, quiet disdain for its theatrics. With China, India must recognise the rivalry for what it is, while building alliances and capacities that make it a peer competitor in economics and innovation. This is not just about weathering the current duet. It is about building economic and technological heft that renders the emperors’ approval irrelevant. The true antidote to narcissistic politics is independence: the ability to act on one’s own terms, regardless of who is preening on the balcony.
Stay off the dance floor
Patience will be key. The excesses of narcissists eventually catch up with them, though not always on the timetable we might prefer. When it comes, it will strip away the pretence, revealing not gilded robes but the naked ambition and insecurity underneath. In time, the Trump-Munir waltz will lose its music. Perhaps a new emperor will take the floor. Perhaps the audience will finally tire of clapping for nothing. But for now, the emperors twirl on, convinced their invisible robes dazzle the crowd. The courtiers cheer. And the child in the corner – perhaps a resolute nation, perhaps an inconvenient journalist – shakes their head and says what everyone knows but few will admit: They are not wearing anything at all.
History will have the last word. When it does, it is unlikely to be kind to those who mistook personal vanity for diplomacy. The Trump-Munir chapter will be remembered not for diplomatic breakthroughs or moral leadership, but for its embodiment of the perils of narcissism in high office. Two men, convinced of their own indispensability, danced their duet on the stage of global politics, oblivious to the fact that a weary audience was already looking for the exit. Consider Trump’s Alaska moment: it evaporated, and with it the ‘severe consequences’ he had threatened Russia with.
India, for its part, should neither join the dance nor allow itself to be choreographed by it. The work ahead – building a robust economy, securing technological leadership, strengthening democratic institutions – may not have the spectacle of a narcissist’s parade, but it will have the dignity of purpose. And dignity, unlike vanity, does not need an audience to survive. The world is full of emperors in invisible clothes. The wise know better than to become their tailors.
(The writer is Director, School of Social Sciences, Ramaiah University of Applied Sciences)