Part Two: An Orange Is Not an Apple: A Reflection on Nations, Power, and Civilization
Comparing India with the United States—especially in the context of present politics and external affairs—is like comparing oranges with apples. Both are fruits, yet fundamentally different in origin, history, temperament, and evolution.
One represents a relatively recent national formation of about two hundred and fifty years; the other carries a civilizational continuity often traced back more than two thousand five hundred years. Even if one chooses to set aside that deeper antiquity, a meaningful comparison can still be made by examining both nations from the twentieth century into the twenty‑first.
At the very outset, a necessary clarification: this reflection is not about the people of America. Just as one cannot reduce India to any single leader—whether Mahatma GandhiJI, Indira GandhiJI, ModiJI, or anyone else—nor equate the United States with figures like Donald Trump [but not “Trump ji”] or Martin Luther KingJI Jr., it would be intellectually dishonest to judge an entire people through individuals.
In this essay, Gandhiji and King Jr. represent a shared moral tallness—their lives and struggles show that a nation’s soul is not defined by its rulers alone. The same holds for Trump and Modi, who are political figures rather than moral icons. The focus here is on something deeper: the political DNA of nations—patterns that persist, more or less, irrespective of who is in power.
Indeed, a thoughtful reader once reminded me that all nations have done similar things at some time or other. This is not a defense of cruelty, but a sobering reminder that the problem is human, not merely national. Power, when concentrated, tends to corrupt; and political systems often amplify this tendency. A painful reminder of this truth emerged even within India during the COVID‑19 pandemic, when the brutal custodial killing of a father and son in Tamil Nadu shocked the conscience of the nation. Yet it was also the courage of individuals within the system that brought the truth to light—showing that self‑correction, though imperfect, is possible.
Such self‑correction, however, appears less consistently visible within political structures across the world. In democracies, regardless of ideology, the pursuit of power—especially when it turns ruthless—often leads to a convergence in behavior. Those in authority, once in office, can begin to resemble one another in their methods.
Still, one must be careful not to fall into the very trap we seek to avoid: painting an entire nation as inherently good or bad. Within India there are those who nudge the system toward compassion and justice, and those who pull it toward division and domination. The same is true in the United States. The presence of dissent, of conscience, of art and satire that mocks its own leaders, shows that even the most powerful system is still alive with contradiction.
It is in this context that one can revisit, more gently, the forceful line I wrote earlier:
The Most “Un‑Civilized” Civilization on Earth
A nation born through a violent struggle for independence and later shaped by internal conflict, including the legacy of slavery and racial injustice;
one that rose to immense wealth and global dominance through economic expansion and strategic influence;
one that projects power across continents—often in the name of peace, security, or stability—yet leaves behind trails of conflict, instability, and unresolved suffering.
From the Vietnam War to interventions in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Libya, and to its roles in contemporary crises such as Ukraine and Gaza, one can observe a recurring pattern—where strategic interest, ideological assertion, and military power intersect. These actions have been justified under various frameworks: containment, counter‑terrorism, humanitarian intervention, alliance obligations, and global order. Yet the consequences have often included long‑term instability, civilian suffering, and geopolitical fragmentation.
The same kind of pattern, in different forms, can be seen in other parts of the world. The desire for security, for dominance, for “civilising” or “protecting” others, is not the exclusive disease of one nation. It is a human tendency magnified by modern power.
Yet, in recent years, another side of power has also come to the surface. During the oxygen and vaccine shortages of the pandemic, India extended emergency medical support and shipped vaccines to many countries—what some have called “Vaccine Maitri.” More recently, when Sri Lanka faced a severe fuel crisis and people were rationing energy, India swiftly sent a large emergency shipment of oil. Bangladesh and the Maldives, also facing energy stress, have turned to India for additional fuel supplies, and New Delhi has moved quickly to help meet these requests.
At the same time, in the Americas, strict US‑imposed sanctions once blocked Venezuelan oil from reaching Cuba, contributing to a deep energy crisis on the island. While some of those restrictions have since been eased, the underlying logic remains: the power to disconnect a neighbour from essential energy can be used as a political tool.
None of this, however, makes any nation pure or flawless. India also has its own hierarchies, inequalities, and internal “civilising missions”: caste, class, majoritarian pressures, and state‑imposed discipline on the margins. My point here is not to claim that India is morally superior, but to highlight a different orientation. When India uses power, it tends to work within its own borders, to manage its own deep contradictions, and to extend solidarity to its neighbours, rather than to govern the internal lives of distant peoples.
Thus, rather than a simple verdict, what emerges is a deeper inquiry:
Is this a “DNA of aggression,” or the complex expression of power in a modern superpower?
Is it hypocrisy, or the tension between ideals and interests?
Or is it, finally, a reflection of human nature itself—magnified on a global scale?
In the end, this is not about condemning one nation or glorifying another.
It is about understanding how history, power, and political culture shape actions—and how those actions, in turn, shape the world we live in.
And perhaps the most important question is not directed outward, but inward:
What kind of political and moral DNA do we, in our own nations, wish to cultivate for the future?
Ashram, April 10, 2026 [5.30 a.m. but later revised on 11th April]
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