Ticket touts look less like traders, more like looters who have found a way to ransack the box office in broad daylight. In war you learn that morale matters, and nothing sours morale faster than a sense that the game is rigged against ordinary people. Fans save for months, fight digital queues, then watch a handful of speculators flip their seats for ten times the face value. If government has already promised a hard cap, then failing to act tells every chancer in the market that bluff beats manifesto. A tightly drawn ceiling on resale, with teeth and enforcement, is not some Bolshevik experiment, it is the minimum defence of fair play. Of course black markets will sniff around, they always do, but that is an argument for sharper policing, not for leaving the gates wide open. You win trust in politics the same way you win it in war, by standing between your people and those who would profit from their fear and their joy.