By K Raveendran
Donald Trump and Narendra Modi never seem to tire of expressing admiration for each other, their mutual regard forming an odd but undeniable transnational political camaraderie. What binds them is not simply shared ideology but a similar worldview shaped by populism, nativism, and a flair for dramatic, often reckless, decision-making.
Modi’s ‘Atmanirbhar Bharat,’ a call for economic self-reliance with a strong nationalistic bent, mirrors Trump’s ‘America First’ rhetoric. Both leaders project a vision that draws its power from an emotional, almost theatrical appeal to national pride, wrapped tightly around the illusion of autonomy and strength. Each is a master at rebranding national policy as personal crusade, a saviour complex writ large through posturing and choreographed addresses. Yet beneath this surface of chest-thumping bravado lies a pattern of governance marked more by spectacle than substance, more by sentiment than strategy. And in this regard, Trump’s ‘Liberation Day’ initiative bears an uncanny resemblance to Modi’s demonetisation experiment—a catastrophic miscalculation masquerading as a masterstroke.
Modi’s demonetisation in 2016—announced suddenly and with little planning—rendered 86 percent of India’s currency invalid overnight. It was supposedly designed to root out black money, counterfeit currency, and terror financing, but it quickly descended into chaos. Small businesses collapsed, workers fled cities in droves, and long queues outside ATMs became the grim symbol of economic mismanagement. Even as experts rang alarm bells, Modi maintained his messianic tone, urging citizens to endure a mere 50 days of hardship for a brighter future. “Give me 50 days,” he had said, “and if things don’t improve, punish me.” The promise never materialized. The black money did not return miraculously, but people’s livelihoods were irreparably disrupted.
Donald Trump’s so-called Liberation Day, the dramatic launch of a new round of sweeping tariffs, has begun with exactly the kind of global disruption critics warned about. Market reactions were immediate and brutal. U.S. stock indices dropped sharply in the first few days following the announcement, with the Dow Jones Industrial Average shedding over 800 points and tech-heavy NASDAQ taking an even harder hit. Investors recoiled at the sudden spike in uncertainty, with supply chains once again in the crosshairs and inflation fears reignited. The tariff war has struck at the core of global trade, targeting imports from major economic partners, including China, the European Union, and Mexico, under the guise of reclaiming American economic sovereignty. Trump continues to put up a brave face, assuring that the trouble is temporary, just as Modi did when his Tuglqian misadventure appeared to be hoax.
The retaliation to Trump tariff has been swift. China responded with its own set of counter-tariffs targeting U.S. agricultural products, tech components, and even aircraft parts—sectors deeply intertwined with American jobs and exports. The European Union is preparing a legal challenge at the World Trade Organization while drafting its own list of retaliatory measures, aimed at key U.S. exports like whiskey, motorcycles, and industrial goods. Mexico, too, has hinted at coordinated trade resistance with other Latin American countries. What Trump heralded as a move to protect American industry has instead triggered a fresh wave of global economic fragmentation. And what Trump dreamt as the heroic dollar is taking a hit.
The outlook for the world economy has darkened almost overnight. The International Monetary Fund revised growth forecasts downward, citing “heightened trade tensions and global uncertainty.” Emerging markets, heavily dependent on exports and supply chain integration, are bracing for further volatility. Economists warn that sustained tariff escalations could shave full percentage points off global GDP growth over the next year.
Trump’s framing of the tariff war as a liberation—an economic D-Day of sorts—has little grounding in economic reality. The promise of revitalised American manufacturing may resonate politically, but the early evidence shows rising prices, declining investor confidence, and the reactivation of a global trade war. In many ways, the chaotic debut of Liberation Day feels like déjà vu: a brash move heavy on symbolism, light on strategy, and destined to hurt the very workers and industries it claims to protect. Finally, fears of long-term damage to U.S. competitiveness and consumer purchasing power have become more striking.
Just as Modi’s demonetisation had all the trappings of a grand nationalist intervention—cleansing the system, rooting out corruption, purifying the economy—Trump’s Liberation Day was wrapped in the language of war, victory, and American grit. Yet both were deeply unscientific, divorced from data, and bereft of institutional consultation. Modi had ignored economists and financial institutions in his rush to act; Trump sidelined all experts. Their decisions underpin the desire to appear as strongmen who could bend reality to their will, the need to impose a heroic narrative on a deeply complex crisis.
Yet, the costs are staggering. In India, demonetisation left a trail of economic devastation, especially among the poor and the informal sector. Years later, the gains remain invisible, and the policy has been widely discredited by economists and researchers. In the United States, Trump’s hasty push for America First has already sowed the seeds of future trouble. Both leaders have gambled with people’s lives and livelihoods, and when things go wrong, they seek to rewrite the story rather than confront the reality.
There is also a deeper, more troubling similarity—the cult of personality that protects both men from accountability. Modi and Trump have built personal brands so entrenched in the national psyche that their supporters often interpret criticism as betrayal. In India, many saw the chaos as necessary pain for a noble cause, even if the cause itself was never clearly defined. In the U.S., Trump’s ‘Liberation Day’ has begun as Trump’s Dumb Day.
One could argue that both demonetisation and Liberation Day represent the culmination of a particular kind of politics—one where emotion trumps reason, where slogans substitute for strategy, and where short-term optics override long-term outcomes. In this world, leaders are not expected to deliver results, only to dramatise intent. Modi and Trump, for all their differences, are architects of this emotional populism, constructing political legitimacy not from achievements but from perpetual confrontation, manufactured crises, and the illusion of decisive leadership.
The tragedy is that the people who suffer most from these theatrical blunders are the most vulnerable. In India, daily-wage earners, small traders, and rural communities bore the brunt of demonetisation’s fallout. In the U.S., it is going to be frontline workers, gig economy participants, and marginalized communities who will suffer the most. Yet, the political narratives crafted by Modi and Trump will turn these sufferings into patriotic sacrifice, framing hardship as proof of national strength rather than policy failure.
There’s also a shared disdain for institutions and experts—a hallmark of authoritarian populism. Modi bypassed the Reserve Bank of India in his demonetisation move, and Trump routinely dismissed or silenced his own officials. This undermining of institutions is not incidental—it is central to the power they wield. Both leaders thrive on creating an ‘us vs. them’ dynamic, where institutions are cast as relics of an old, ineffective order, and the leader emerges as the only true voice of the people. (IPA Service)
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