“Rangdari Vasooli” at State Scale — Trump’s Bagram Ultimatum and the Politics of Power
On Sunday, September 21, President Donald Trump once again thrust the Bagram air base into the centre of international attention with a blunt post on Truth Social:
“If Afghanistan doesn’t give Bagram Airbase back to those that built it, the United States of America, BAD THINGS ARE GOING TO HAPPEN!!!”
This was not an isolated outburst. Trump has invoked Bagram repeatedly this year — during his recent UK trip and in statements in May and March — turning a Cold War–era airfield into a recurring symbol of American strategic yearning.
The bluntness of the message drew a measured but firm response from a Taliban spokesman: Zakir Jalaly of the Taliban foreign ministry told reporters that Afghans have historically rejected foreign military presences, that the Doha agreement explicitly ruled out such bases, and that while Kabul won’t accept foreign troops, “the door is open for further interaction.”
Notably, the United States and Afghanistan currently have no formal diplomatic relations.
Bagram: a short history of a long shadow
Bagram, the largest air base in Afghanistan, sits roughly 60 kilometres north of Kabul in Parwan province — a region many analysts call the key to controlling access to Kabul because of its links to major cities such as Kabul, Kandahar and Bamiyan. The site’s layered past explains why it still stirs passions:
The base was originally constructed in the 1950s during the era when Washington and Moscow vied for influence across Afghanistan. During the Soviet-Afghan War (1979–89), Bagram was a critical Soviet staging ground; after the Soviet pullout, it became contested ground between the Taliban and the Northern Alliance.
Following the attacks of 11 September 2001, US and coalition forces seized Bagram, transforming it over two decades into the epicentre of the American footprint in Afghanistan: a facility sprawling across dozens of square kilometres, with expanded runways, medical facilities and extensive logistical infrastructure.
A disused hangar on the base was repurposed as a detention facility and, amid reports and allegations of abuse, drew comparisons to Guantánamo Bay — a reminder that bases are not only strategic platforms but also loci of deep controversy.
When presidential rhetoric resembles extortion
The language in Trump’s post — stark, public, and framed as a direct ultimatum — resembles what, in India’s Hindi-speaking belt, is colloquially called “Rangdari Vasooli”: protection rackets where local strongmen publicly demand compliance, often backed by threats of violence. The analogy is intentionally provocative: replace the muscleman with the leader of a superpower, and the target becomes another state rather than a shopkeeper.
Two observations follow:
- Scale changes, but the dynamics are familiar. Whether it’s a local strongman warning a grocer to pay up, or a head of state issuing an ultimatum on social media, the core tactic is the same: use public intimidation to coerce action. The moral and legal frameworks differ enormously — international law, norms of sovereignty, and diplomatic channels exist to prevent the raw application of force — but the rhetorical mechanics of power projection are analogous.
- State-to-state “rangdari” is rarer — and riskier. In everyday life, extortion draws quick condemnation and policing. Between nations, however, overt threats are typically constrained by norms, alliances, and the catastrophic risks of escalation.
- That is why explicit threats to seize territory or obliterate another’s strategic assets are exceptional: they risk unintended escalation, diplomatic isolation, or countermeasures. A superpower publicly demanding access to a key military base upends the usual balance between coercion and diplomacy.
Why Bagram matters — and why the rhetoric is consequential
Trump’s fixation on Bagram signals more than nostalgia for runway and tarmac. The base’s location affords tactical reach toward the Afghan heartland; possession of Bagram has long symbolised the ability to project power and influence in Afghanistan.
For a leader who frames geopolitical objectives in immediate, personal terms, Bagram becomes a concrete bargaining chip rather than an abstract strategic asset.
But the blunt-force approach has diplomatic costs. Public ultimatums narrow the room for quiet negotiation, raise public expectations, and can corner other actors into hardline replies — as seen in the Taliban spokesperson’s quick invocation of the Doha accords.
Even if intended as leverage, such rhetoric complicates the measured, procedural diplomacy that usually resolves questions of basing, status of forces, and access.
A broader reflection
Power, in many forms, still resorts to intimidation. From street-level protection rackets to great-power posturing, coercion remains a tool. What differs is accountability and restraint: states are supposed to operate within the rules of international engagement.
When a leader’s public posture mimics the raw, transactional “rangdari” of a muscleman, it forces a debate about norms, the limits of presidential theatre, and the cost of turning strategic objectives into social-media ultimatums.
In short: the Bagram episode is both a literal debate about a military base and a symbolic moment about how force is talked about — and used — in the modern age. Whether that rhetoric yields leverage or simply hardens opposition will depend on the choices that follow, not the headlines that precede them.
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