There was a man among my relatives who possessed considerable wealth and, with it, an authority that seemed to extend beyond material comfort into the temper of his dealings with others. He was habitually prone to anger. When matters did not unfold according to his will or temperament, he would erupt in fits of indignation, directing his harsh words toward those whom he considered socially or financially inferior. His friends and relatives, rather than confronting his conduct, would excuse it with a convenient explanation; that he suffered from high blood pressure, and therefore his anger was involuntary, even pardonable. In this manner, his excesses were tolerated, if not silently endorsed.

Yet, one day, an incident occurred that revealed a truth more instructive than any medical justification. A dispute arose between him and a neighbour whose social standing was not negligible—one son held a senior position in the police, while another resided in the United States. The matter was brought before a Panchayat. There, in a gathering where voices carried weight and consequences were not easily dismissed, the neighbour spoke plainly and firmly. To the surprise of many, my relative did not lose his temper. His blood pressure, so often cited as the cause of his fury, remained perfectly under control. He listened, measured his words, and responded with restraint. An elderly man present at the gathering remarked with quiet irony that his anger and blood pressure were indeed most discerning; they rose only in the presence of the weak.

This seemingly ordinary episode carries within it a profound reflection on human conduct, particularly on the nature of power and its exercise. Anger, often portrayed as a spontaneous and uncontrollable emotion, is in many cases neither blind nor indiscriminate. It is calculated, selective, and frequently directed where resistance is least expected. The strong, it appears, are often spared the harshest expressions of wrath, while the weak are made its habitual recipients.

It is this recollection that comes to mind when one observes, in recent times, the language employed by political leaders on the global stage. The conduct of statesmen has traditionally been guided by a sense of decorum, shaped by the recognition that their words carry consequences far beyond personal sentiment. Diplomacy, by its very nature, demands restraint, dignity, and a careful calibration of language. Yet, history and contemporary events alike demonstrate that this standard has not always been upheld.

The President of the United States, Donald Trump, has recently used language in reference to Iran that departs markedly from the conventions of diplomatic discourse. His remarks, laced with profanity and overt hostility, stand in sharp contrast to the measured tone expected in international relations. It is difficult to imagine that similar language would be employed against nations such as China, Russia, or North Korea without inviting a formidable and immediate response. The asymmetry is telling. Just as in the case of my relative, the harshness of expression appears to find its direction where the likelihood of equal retaliation is perceived to be limited.

This is not, however, an entirely new phenomenon in American political history. The use of coarse or profane language by presidents has been documented across generations, though often confined to private conversations, later revealed through memoirs, recordings, or historical inquiry. Harry S. Truman was known for his blunt expressions, once referring to General Douglas MacArthur in terms that would scarcely befit formal address. John F. Kennedy, admired for his eloquence in public, was reputed to employ decidedly less refined language in private moments. Lyndon B. Johnson carried this tendency further, his speech often coloured by rustic and unvarnished expressions that reflected both his personality and political style.

Perhaps the most striking example emerged during the presidency of Richard Nixon, whose secretly recorded conversations, later released in the wake of the Watergate scandal, revealed a pattern of language that shocked the public conscience. These recordings exposed not only profanity but also remarks that carried undertones of prejudice and intolerance. In more recent times, even leaders such as George W. Bush and Barack Obama have, on occasion, been associated with informal or coarse expressions, though generally in private or less formal contexts.

What distinguishes the present moment is not merely the use of such language, but its open and public deployment, particularly through the immediacy of social media. President Donald Trump has frequently articulated his views in terms that blur the line between political rhetoric and personal invective. His recent statements concerning Iran, including explicit threats accompanied by profane expressions, exemplify a departure from the traditional norms of statecraft. The gravity of international conflict, especially in a region as sensitive as the Middle East, would ordinarily call for language that seeks to de-escalate rather than inflame.

The implications of such a shift are not confined to matters of etiquette. Language shapes perception, and perception, in turn, influences action. When the discourse of leadership descends into vulgarity, it risks normalising a tone that erodes respect, both domestically and internationally. It diminishes the moral authority that nations seek to uphold and complicates the delicate task of diplomacy.

The lesson, whether drawn from a modest Panchayat or the corridors of global power, remains consistent. Strength is not demonstrated through the ability to intimidate the weak, nor is authority enhanced by the abandonment of restraint. True leadership lies in the capacity to exercise power with wisdom, to speak with dignity even in moments of tension, and to uphold standards that inspire respect rather than fear.

Here’s the bottom line, anger that discriminates between the strong and the weak is neither a sign of sincerity nor of strength. It is, rather, a reflection of calculation. And when such calculation finds expression in the language of those who shape the destinies of nations, it becomes not merely a personal flaw, but a matter of global consequence.