Economic discontent: Is the world truly at peace, or are we living through wars of a different kind every single day? Beyond the battlefields, nations wage trade wars, mount cyber offensives and weaponise supply chains. Wealth has expanded in aggregate, yet it is concentrated in the hands of a few. For millions, the struggle is not for luxuries but for the basics of healthcare, housing and education, each increasingly out of reach. How did prosperity become so selective, and why do so many feel abandoned in a world supposedly richer than ever before?
And even where material comfort exists, is the human condition any less unsettled? In our midst, we also are watching that intellectual discomfort is portrayed as stress, that disagreement is invalidation, that being challenged is harm. What happens to societies when debate becomes dangerous and curiosity is seen as cruelty? Meanwhile, in the wider culture, humanity lives under a different siege — not by armies but by algorithms. Our compulsive addiction to social media and digital distraction has created a dystopian rhythm of existence. What kind of resilience can democracies summon if both minds and markets remain so captive?
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Economic discontent drives populism
The world is witnessing a tide of populist anger that is reshaping democracies and unsettling institutions once thought resilient. It is an economic and social force, propelled by inflation, job insecurity and widening inequality. To dismiss it as a mere political tantrum is to miss the deeper tremors running through societies.
Inflation is the most immediate spark. Rising food and energy prices cut directly into household survival. For families already managing fragile budgets, every extra rupee or dollar at the grocery counter feels like a betrayal by the state and the market. Central banks speak of transient shocks, but for citizens the pain is neither abstract nor temporary. Inflation corrodes trust because it exposes the inability of policymakers to shield ordinary people from volatility that seems engineered by forces beyond their reach.
Job insecurity deepens this anger. The nature of work has changed faster than societies can adapt. Technology has displaced middle-skill jobs, globalisation has created sharp winners and losers, and informal labour remains vast in many economies. The promise that growth would translate into stable employment has not been met. Instead, younger generations face contract work, gig hustles and careers without pensions or predictability. For them, the political establishment’s assurances ring hollow. A system that cannot secure livelihoods cannot command enduring legitimacy.
Inequality, meanwhile, has sharpened every grievance. Across continents, the wealth of a few has multiplied while large sections have stagnated or slipped backwards. Skyscrapers rising above slums are daily reminders that the social contract has frayed. In such a climate, populist leaders channel resentment into simple slogans. They target elites, immigrants, corporations or institutions, and in doing so, they offer the illusion of dignity restored. The emotional satisfaction of blaming an enemy often outweighs the harder work of structural reform.
The politics of anger born of economic discontent is reshaping democracies across continents. Citizens no longer see their frustrations as isolated hardships but as systemic betrayals by political and economic orders. Populist leaders convert this discontent into political capital by offering easy targets and dramatic gestures. Donald Trump’s tariffs on global imports, for instance, were framed not as trade strategy but as a symbolic defence of the American worker against the global order. Brexit, likewise, drew momentum less from the fine print of EU regulations and more from resentment at elites and the belief that ordinary voices had been silenced. In both cases, economic grievance was channelled into political rupture.
Europe offers similar patterns. The gilets jaunes movement in France, sparked by fuel taxes, quickly evolved into a broader revolt against inequality and perceived government aloofness. In Italy and Hungary, populist leaders have harnessed resentment against austerity and immigration to consolidate power, presenting themselves as protectors of the “forgotten majority.”
Asia too is not immune. In the Philippines, populist rhetoric has combined economic frustration with appeals to identity and security, blurring the line between economic and cultural populism. In parts of South-East Asia, governments under pressure have relied on subsidies to blunt fuel or food price surges, knowing the political risks of inaction. Even in advanced economies like Japan, prolonged wage stagnation has generated public frustration, though it is expressed with less overt mobilisation than in Western democracies.
The world, in effect, has entered a populist cycle. Economic discontent produces anger, anger fuels mobilisation, mobilisation pressures governments into short-term appeasement, and appeasement without structural change only renews discontent. From Washington to Warsaw, from Paris to Manila, the pattern repeats. Democracies risk becoming trapped in a loop of reaction rather than reform, where institutions bend to immediate pressure while the deeper foundations of opportunity and fairness remain unaddressed. Recognising and interrupting this cycle is the central challenge for leaders who wish to preserve democratic stability in an era of volatility.
Nowhere are these dynamics more visible than in India, where economic progress coexists uneasily with public discontent. Headline inflation may have been managed through monetary vigilance, yet the volatility of food prices repeatedly sparks anger. The paradox of employment in India amplifies this distrust. Despite decades of strong growth, secure jobs remain scarce. Youth unemployment, particularly among educated graduates, is persistently high. Those who expected to find stability instead confront gig work or informal contracts.
Rural distress compounds the problem. Agriculture remains the livelihood for a vast population, yet farm incomes stagnate while input costs rise. Climate shocks and water stress intensify vulnerability. In response, political parties frequently deploy short-term populist instruments such as loan waivers or cash transfers. These bring immediate relief but do little to resolve structural inefficiencies. The result is a cycle of dependency that erodes fiscal health while failing to restore long-term resilience in the countryside.
Inequality in India has become strikingly visible. The conspicuous rise of luxury consumption, billion-dollar start-up valuations and gleaming real estate contrasts sharply with stagnant wages and precarious urban livelihoods This visual gulf makes redistributive politics and populist anger both more potent and more persuasive.
The fiscal implications of populism are equally stark. Welfare programmes have undeniably expanded access to healthcare, housing and basic amenities. Yet as electoral competition intensifies, subsidies and cash transfers have become instruments of political rivalry. While such schemes often improve lives in the short term, their sustainability is questionable. The temptation to deploy fiscal populism can delay hard reforms, leaving the state fiscally stretched and citizens ever more dependent on immediate relief.
Yet populist rage is not without consequence. Democracies built on negotiation and compromise are being strained by demands for immediacy and absolutes. Institutions are derided as captured. Expertise is dismissed as arrogance. The economic triggers are local, but the sentiment is universal.
The challenge for policymakers, regulators and global leaders is not merely to criticise populism but to confront its roots. If understood and addressed, it can serve as a signal to renew institutions, recalibrate policy and restore faith in the promise that growth and fairness can coexist.