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Diplomacy
Classification of the countries according to the world-system analysis of I. Wallerstein: core, semi-periphery and periphery.

Reflections on the modern world-system from a decolonial perspective

by Larissa Salas Duarte

Abstract This paper analyzes, from Immanuel Wallerstein's Analysis of the World – System, an introduction, the emergence of the modern world – system, the permanence of the colonial logic in the modern capitalist world-system from a decolonial approach. It examines how the center – periphery structure has determined the economic, political and epistemic dynamics at the global level. Through this approach we study how coloniality has influenced the construction of knowledge. It also analyzes the impact of this structure on the recognition of States and the negotiation of international treaties, showing how Western power has conditioned the legitimacy and autonomy of peripheral nations. It also addresses the persistence of the center-periphery logic in local relations, as well as in gender and racial inequality, highlighting the role of anti-systemic movements in the struggle against these structures. It concludes that, although colonial dynamics continue to operate through debt, extractivism and the imposition of political models, decolonial perspectives offer tools to make visible and resist them. Introduction This paper will analyze the dynamics of the current international system based on the work “World-Systems Analysis: An Introduction – The Rise of the Modern World-System” by Immanuel Wallerstein. In it, Wallerstein (2005) argues that the modern capitalist world-system has structured the global order since the 16th century, consolidating a hierarchical division between the center and the periphery. This division has not only shaped economic and political dynamics but has also established patterns of domination and dependency that persist to this day. The colonial expansion of European powers not only guaranteed access to resources and markets but also legitimized a system of exploitation based on racism and the hierarchization of colonized peoples. The decolonial perspective of Walter Mignolo (2013) will be adopted, which posits that this is a political and epistemic project aimed at dismantling the colonial matrix of power that sustains Western modernity. From this framework, the article will analyze how colonial logic continues to operate in the capitalist world-system through the economic and political subordination of the peripheries. It will also examine the impact of the colonial worldview on knowledge production during the 18th and 19th centuries, as well as the reproduction of the center–periphery dynamic in the recognition of states during the 20th century and in the negotiation of international treaties during the 21st century. Likewise, it will address how this dynamic manifests not only internationally but also within local structures, perpetuating inequalities expressed in labor, gender, and racial relations today. This work seeks to provide a critical perspective on the persistence of colonial logic in the modern capitalist world-system, emphasizing the need to rethink power structures from a decolonial perspective that makes visible and vindicates the subaltern voices that have been historically silenced. Development Colonial Logic in the Capitalist World-System In his work “World-Systems Analysis: An Introduction – The Rise of the Modern World-System”, Wallerstein seeks to understand the structure and dynamics of the world-system, taking the 16th century as the starting point —a period when the conquests of the territories we now know as the Americas took place. The colonial period clearly illustrates the core–periphery dynamic (Wallerstein, 2005), as the Spanish, British, and Portuguese empires engaged in the extraction of resources from their colonies, while colonized peoples endured oppression and racism to which they would be condemned for centuries. This oppression brought significant benefits to the modern world-system, as it enabled massive capital accumulation — but exclusively in the core. This was because the colonial process built peripheral economies around the needs of the core, forcing them into subordination to the interests of the global market, generating dependency and underdevelopment. Quijano and Wallerstein (1992) argue that “[…] ethnicity was the inevitable cultural consequence of coloniality. It delineated the social boundaries corresponding to the division of labor” (p. 585). Due to the colonial period, the modern capitalist world-system laid its foundations and strengthened its market-based economic model through racism and hierarchization — circumstances that have legitimized the exploitation and domination of non-European peoples throughout history. Control over the resources of peripheral states by core states has endured to this day, along with the imposition of Western production and consumption models that perpetuate inequality. The colonial period’s greatest legacy remains systemic violence and subalternity. On this basis, it is important to analyze this work from a decolonial perspective. For Walter Mignolo (2013), “decoloniality is not a concept, but a practice and a political, epistemic, and ethical project aimed at disengaging from the colonial matrix of power that sustains Western modernity” (p. 21). This perspective also draws on the notion of epistemic subalternity, which refers to the experiences and knowledge of colonized and subaltern peoples that are rendered invisible, devalued, or reduced to particular cases — without being considered an integral part of the world-system (Mora, 2008). Coloniality in the Construction of Knowledge At the end of the 18th century, the modern university emerged, dividing its studies into two faculties: sciences and humanities. In the 19th century, another division took place within the humanities, opening the space for the study of social sciences, which would later also be split — on one side, those leaning toward scientism, and on the other, toward the humanistic approach. This led to the creation of new disciplines: economics, political science, and sociology (Wallerstein, 2005). These new sciences built their worldview and knowledge construction from a Eurocentric and colonialist perspective, thus assigning labels to peoples different from their own. These new sciences categorized the study of the world’s peoples into three groups. First, civilized peoples — Western nations, considered as such because they believed their social and political organization systems were the most advanced. Second, the high civilizations — India, China, Persia, and the Arab world — classified in this way because they possessed writing, religion, language, and customs. They were regarded as civilized peoples but not modern, under the previously mentioned concept. This category gave rise to orientalist scholars, with a Eurocentric and exoticizing view. Finally, the so-called primitive peoples — those who, from the colonial perspective, lacked writing, religion, language, and customs. This perception of the “uncivilized other” was used to justify colonial processes in the periphery, which even today enable the reproduction of exploitative and racist practices. Segregation in the construction of knowledge, imbued with colonial and Eurocentric thought, is based on criticizing the behavior of these peoples and on what should be changed about them (Zapata, 2008). The Eurocentric conception asserts categorically that the modus vivendi of these peoples is not appropriate according to Western standards. Although this way of thinking has evolved over time, its essence remains the same and has led Western countries to grant themselves the power to change the way of life of these peoples through invasions, neocolonial processes, and violent interventions via military force or economic interference. The Center and the Periphery in the Recognition of States As previously mentioned, Europe established a correspondence between modernity and the West; this includes the institution of the nation-state as its derived product (Zapata, 2008). From the Eurocentric perspective, for civilizations to be considered nation-states, they must possess four characteristics: territory, population, government, and sovereignty. In Public International Law, sovereign states are the main subjects of international relations, and for a state to be recognized as such, it must be acknowledged by the majority of states that are part of the international system. The center–periphery concept operates both economically and politically, which can be observed when a new state seeks recognition from members of the international system. The recognition granted by a state from the center carries more weight than that from the periphery, since states in the center, with greater political and economic capacity, influence the decisions of their allies — both within the center and the periphery. This need for state recognition has been extremely beneficial for the modern capitalist world-system, as political and economic interdependence, along with the perpetuation of power in the countries of the center — particularly those belonging to the West — ensures that they act, whether in matters of state recognition, political agendas, or economic issues, entirely to their own advantage, disregarding the interests of “the other.” From a decolonial perspective, state recognition is a Western construct designed to maintain control over who meets the imposed criteria to belong to the Eurocentric international system. These criteria clearly do not align with the social organization of all non-Western civilizations but were conceived in such a way as to subordinate them to the needs of the world-system, which inevitably serves the interests of Western core states. This can be exemplified by the case of Taiwan. In 1971, the Kuomintang lost recognition from the government of mainland China, and starting in 1985, Taiwan’s government sought to strengthen diplomatic relations with states that already recognized it and to develop relations with those that did not, with the aim of obtaining their approval (Connelly, 2014). Despite the passage of time, recognition of Taiwan as a state by core countries seems inconvenient for them, likely due to the ongoing political dispute between Taiwan and China. As a result, only 14 peripheral states recognize it as such. Despite this, the Northeast Asian country maintains unofficial relations with 47 states and the European Union, for purely economic reasons. The Modern Capitalist World-System in International Treaties It is worth mentioning that the idea of the center–periphery permeates the negotiation of international agreements. As mentioned earlier, the so-called “primitive peoples” were civilizations that, from the Eurocentric perspective of knowledge, lacked writing, religion, languages, or customs. This idea persisted into the 20th century, as reflected in the Statute of the International Court of Justice, which in Chapter II, Article 38, states that “the Court, whose function is to decide in accordance with international law such disputes as are submitted to it, shall apply: […] the general principles of law recognized by civilized nations” (UN, 1945). The Eurocentric conception of a civilized nation in the postwar period was based on the type of government existing in each state. Thus, countries without a democratic political system were not considered civilized nations. This conception forced nations not to determine their own system of government, but rather to adhere to the one imposed by the Western international system in order to be accepted, disregarding their customs and traditions. A more current example of the imposition of Eurocentric ideas on systems of government is the signing of the Free Trade Agreement between the European Union and Mexico in 2000. Ratification of the trade agreement was conditioned on what they called the “democratic clause.” The agreement was not ratified by the Italian government until July 3 of that year, when the presidential elections resulted in the victory of Vicente Fox (Villegas, 2001). On the same day, the European Commission’s spokesperson, Gunnar Wiegand, said in his press release: “A historic vote has taken place in Mexico. The Commission congratulates the Mexican people for exercising their democratic rights in such a mature and exemplary manner” (Caracol Radio, 2000). The spokesperson’s mention of the Mexican people’s maturity refers to the notion that, in the past, the exercise of democracy had not possessed this quality — an observation made from a paternalistic and Eurocentric perspective. Had the election results been different, Mexico could have faced the possibility of the European Union “imposing sanctions as a reaction to the verification of interruptions in democratic processes, which, in addition to affecting development, constitute a threat to international peace and security” (Cordero Galdós, 2002, p. 128). The criticism of the imposition of the “democratic clause” centers on the recurring practice of requiring peripheral states to adapt to the political ideologies and economic needs of the core. The Reproduction of the Center–Periphery Dynamic at the Local Level As mentioned in the development of this work, the effects of colonialism persist across all systems and subsystems through the coloniality of power, knowledge, and being, the latter of which will be addressed later. This is manifested in global inequalities, the exploitation of natural resources in peripheral countries, and the persistence of racist and Eurocentric power structures. From Wallerstein’s perspective, the world-system is a historical structure which, although in constant transformation, reproduces power relations and inequalities over time through the domination of the core and the exploitation of the peripheries (Wallerstein, 2005). Thus, the world-system has evolved in several ways; one of these is the introduction of the term semi-periphery into the analysis. During the colonial period, there were only core and peripheral nations. Over the centuries, however, semi-peripheral states have emerged — nations that not only extract raw materials or engage in manufacturing but also have the capacity to produce cutting-edge technology (Wallerstein, 2005). This positions them in a more privileged place than peripheral countries in the international system. Yet, despite appearing to have overcome the systemic oppression that once kept them in the periphery, the colonial mindset within their institutions perpetuates their subordination to the core. Good examples of semi-peripheral states in Latin America are Mexico and Brazil. Both countries were victims of the exploitation and systemic violence of colonialism. This shaped the development of their societies and economies for centuries. Even after achieving independence and building productive and economic systems that placed them in the semi-periphery, their economic progress was built on a legacy of oppression and racism that continues to reproduce the abuses described. In this way, the concept of core and periphery permeates social and family subsystems. This can be observed in labor relations, where capitalists depend on the core–periphery or superior–subordinate relationship to sustain the production model. It is also evident in social relations, which Wallerstein refers to as anti-systemic movements. Society perpetuates the core–periphery principle by placing women and racialized communities in the periphery, while men — especially white men with power — occupy the core. Anti-systemic movements paved the way for the struggle against these inequalities, giving rise, for example, to feminist and Indigenous movements. These have led to the development of theoretical perspectives such as decolonial feminism, which adds analytical variables to the decolonial perspective. According to Yuderkys Espinosa, it emerges from “[…] a subaltern, non-hegemonic voice […] anti-colonial, anti-imperialist, anti-capitalist. […] Its aim is to question and oppose an imperial and racist rationale” (Barroso, 2014, p. 2). Conclusions The modern capitalist world-system has managed to sustain and expand itself thanks to colonial structures that, far from disappearing with decolonization processes, have mutated and perpetuated dynamics of domination and dependence. As discussed, the core–periphery logic has been key to the organization of the international system, not only in economic terms but also in the construction of knowledge, the legitimization of states, the negotiation of international agreements, and the imposition of political and social models from Western hegemony. The colonial legacy remains in the structural subordination of peripheral economies to the interests of the core, the imposition of international norms that favor core countries, and the persistence of racialized and gender-based inequalities within peripheral states themselves. This scheme has not only ensured capital accumulation in the core but has also limited the self-determination of historically colonized peoples, while normalizing their exclusion from political, economic, and epistemic spheres. At the international level, neocolonialism operates through mechanisms such as external debt, unequal trade agreements, and political interference in the internal affairs of peripheral states. In addition, extractivism and territorial dispossession continue to reproduce colonial logics, affecting both peripheral countries and Indigenous communities as well as other historically marginalized groups. In this sense, the modern capitalist world-system not only perpetuates economic exploitation but also reinforces power structures based on racism, sexism, and subalternity. However, as decolonial perspectives point out, the coloniality of power is not an immutable phenomenon. This approach questions the structures of power and knowledge inherited from colonization, seeking to deconstruct Eurocentric discourses and make visible the voices and experiences of the subaltern. Anti-systemic movements have sought to challenge these structures, reclaiming the agency of subaltern peoples and promoting the construction of alternatives that confront the colonial matrix of power. Particularly, decolonial feminism has emerged as a key critique of the intersection between patriarchy and coloniality, showing how women — especially racialized women — have been relegated to the periphery of the system. Thus, analyzing the world-system from a decolonial perspective allows us not only to understand the continuity of structures of domination but also to recognize the spaces of resistance and contestation that emerge within it. In conclusion, the decolonial perspective enables us to rethink the modern world-system from a critical standpoint, recognizing structural inequalities and the need to transform the power dynamics that perpetuate the domination of the core over the periphery. Decolonialism makes it possible to redefine notions of progress, development, and modernity from a perspective free from colonial stereotypes and hierarchies, recognizing the diversity of knowledge and worldviews of Indigenous peoples. It seeks to decentralize power by rethinking and decolonizing power relations between the core and the periphery, between the state and local communities, aiming for a more equitable distribution of resources and benefits. It is essential to make visible and vindicate the subaltern voices that have been historically silenced, promoting an epistemic and political shift that dismantles the foundations of this system and paves the way for fairer and more inclusive models. References Andrade, V. M. (diciembre, 2019). La Teoría Crítica y el pensamiento decolonial: hacia un proyecto emancipatorio post–occidental. Revista Mexicana de Ciencias Políticas y Sociales, 65(238). https://doi.org/10.22201/fcpys.2448492xe.2020.238.67363Barroso, M. (2014). Feminismo decolonial: crítica y propuesta. Revista Estudos Feministas, 22(1), 1–15.Caracol Radio. (3 de julio, 2000). Europa felicita a mexicano por votación ejemplar. Caracol Radio. https://caracol.com.co/radio/2000/07/03/nacional/0962604000_023535.htmlConnelly, M. (2014). Historia de Taiwán. El Colegio de México.Corderos Galdós, H. (agosto, 2002). La denominada cláusula democrática como modalidad de condicionamiento en los Programas de Ayuda al Desarrollo de la Unión Europea. Agenda Internacional, (16), 123–136. https://doi.org/10.18800/agenda.200201.007Donoso Miranda, P. V. (diciembre, 2014). Pensamiento decolonial en Walter Mignolo: América Latina: ¿transformación de la geopolítica del conocimiento? Temas de Nuestra América, 30(56), 45–56.Mignolo, W. D. (2013). Geopolítica de la sensibilidad y del conocimiento: Sobre (de)colonialidad, pensamiento fronterizo y desobediencia epistémica. Revista de Filosofía, 80(1), 7–23.Mora, M. (2008). Decolonizing politics: Zapatista indigenous autonomy in an era of neoliberal governance and low intensity warfare [Tesis doctoral, The University of Texas at Austin]. https://repositories.lib.utexas.edu/server/api/core/bitstreams/68ba681a-a78b-4ddd-9441-32a92b0edf5c/contentOrganización de las Naciones Unidas (1945). Estatuto de la Corte Internacional de Justicia. Carta de las Naciones Unidas.Portal Académico CCH (2017). Historia de México 1, Unidad 4, Intervenciones extranjeras: Inglaterra. Portal Académico CCH. https://e1.portalacademico.cch.unam.mx/alumno/historiademexico1/unidad4/intervencionesextranjeras/inglaterra#:~:text=Razones%20suficientes%20para%20reconocer%20a,poner%20freno%20al%20expansionismo%20estadounidense.Quijano, A., & Wallerstein, I. (1992). La americanidad como concepto, o América en el moderno sistema mundial. Revista Internacional de Ciencias Sociales, XLIV(4), 583–592.Rojas, V. M. (2010). Capítulo séptimo. El reconocimiento internacional. En Rojas, V. M. Derecho internacional público (pp. 61–65). Nostras Ediciones. https://archivos.juridicas.unam.mx/www/bjv/libros/7/3262/3.pdfRomero Losacco, J. (diciembre, 2020). El sistema-mundo más allá de 1492: modernidad, cristiandad y colonialidad: aproximación al giro historiográfico decolonial. Tabula Rasa, (36), 355–376. https://doi.org/10.25058/20112742.n36.14Ruiz, S. M. (mayo, 2019). La colonialidad y el sistema-mundo moderno colonial. Un diálogo entre Quijano y Wallerstein. Espirales, 3(1), 189–197.Villegas, F. G. (2001). México y la Unión Europea en el Sexenio de Zedillo. Foro Internacional, 41(166), 819–839.Wallerstein, I. (2005). Análisis de sistemas-mundo: una introducción. Siglo XXI.Zapata Silva, C. (2008). Edward Said y la otredad cultural. Atenea, (498), 55–73. http://dx.doi.org/10.4067/S0718-04622008000200005

Energy & Economics
Los Angeles, CA USA - May 23 2025 : Donald Trump on Climate Change, Drill Baby Drill

The temporal logic of Trump II’s climate denialism

by Heikki Patomäki

In a landmark advisory opinion, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) ruled on 23 July 2025 that all UN member states have legal obligations under international law to address climate change, which the court described as an existential threat to life on Earth. Powerful countries too must be held responsible for their current emissions and past inaction. Possibly in anticipation of such a ruling, Chris Wright, the US Secretary of Energy and former chief executive of Liberty Energy (an oilfield services company), published an article in The Economist a week earlier, arguing that “climate change is a by-product of progress, not an existential crisis”. Whereas the ICJ relied primarily on the IPCC reports, “which participants agree constitute the best available science on the causes, nature and consequences of climate change”, Wright’s view is based on a particular temporal logic.  According to the IPCC reports, most greenhouse gases come from burning fossil fuels, with additional emissions from agriculture, deforestation, industry, and waste. They drive global warming, which is projected to reach 1.5°C between 2021 and 2040, with 2°C likely to follow. Even 1.5°C is not considered safe for most nations, communities, and ecosystems, and according to IPCC, only deep, rapid, and sustained emission cuts can slow warming and reduce the escalating risks and damages. The 2024 state of the climate report, published in BioScience, presents even more worrying assessments. Among other things, the report cites surveys indicating that nearly 80% of these scientists anticipate global temperatures increasing by at least 2.5°C above preindustrial levels by the end of the century, and nearly half of them foresee a rise of at least 3°C.  Wright’s article suggests that the issue of amplifying doubt about climate change may have little to do with engagement with science but rather reflects a deeper temporal logic. This logic is rooted in a Whiggish account of progress to date, a resistance to the reality of the future and the desire for nostalgic restoration. I will explain these elements one by one. The first tier: Whiggism Wright disagrees with most scientific anticipations. His views are likely representative not only of the Trump II administration but also of conservative right-wing populism more generally. It is difficult to understand their climate denialism without an analysis of their views on time and temporality. The most important question concerns the reality of the future. At the first level, Wright provides a kind of textbook example of Whig history, portraying progress as linear, inevitable, and driven by liberal values. Herbert Butterfield introduced the idea of Whig history in his influential 1931 book The Whig Interpretation of History as a critique of a specific way of writing history that he regarded as flawed and intellectually dishonest. Focusing on inevitable progress distorts historical analysis by promoting simplified cause-and-effect reasoning and selective storytelling, emphasising present-day evaluation (and glorification) over understanding the real causes of historical change. In a Whiggish manner, Wright claims that the last 200 years have seen two big changes to the human condition: “human liberty” and affordable energy. As a result of these two things, life expectancy has nearly doubled, and the percentage of people living in extreme poverty has dropped from 90% to 10%. However, Wright’s argumentation is based on non-contextual and, in that sense, timeless representations of the world, despite its “progressivism”.  For example, consider the claim that extreme poverty has dropped from 90% to 10%. It is based on using a fixed dollar threshold, such as USD 2 per day, to measure poverty over 200 years. This is misleading because most people in the 19th century lived in largely non-monetised economies where subsistence needs were met outside of market exchange, and monetary income was minimal or irrelevant. These metrics also obscure shifting and context-bound definitions of basic needs; rely on incomplete historical data; and ignore the role of colonial dispossession and structural inequality in shaping global poverty. While it is true that life expectancy has doubled, largely due to improvements in hygiene and healthcare, the idea that extreme poverty has plummeted from 90% to under 10% also ignores the fact that the global population has grown eightfold, affecting the entire Earth system with devastating ecological and geological consequences. It further ignores that the rise in life expectancy and poverty reduction has come not only from liberalism or economic growth more generally but from ethical and political struggles and public health interventions. Often, these struggles have been fought in the name of socialism and won despite capitalist incentives, market mechanisms, and related political forces. The second tier: blockism At a deeper level, Wright’s views seem to presuppose what Roy Bhaskar calls “blockism”: the postulation of a simultaneous conjunctive totality of all events. This may sound abstract, but it has been a common assumption among many 20th-century physicists and philosophers that the universe forms a static, closed totality. This view stems from an atomist ontology, where individuals are seen as abstract, events follow regular patterns, time is viewed as spatial, and laws that can be expressed mathematically are considered reversible.  In such a conception, time appears as just another “spatial” dimension. According to the block universe model, the past, present, and future all exist equally and tenselessly. The universe is imagined as a four-dimensional geometric object, like a “block” of spacetime. Time is not something that “flows” or “passes”; instead, all moments are spatially extended points in a timeless whole. Blockism suggests that change and becoming are not truly real but are simply parts of our subjective experience.  The real challenge is to reconcile Whiggism and blockism. Wright is not a theorist and might not need to worry about the coherence of his ideas, but the issue is that Whiggism assumes movement, direction, and a normatively positive evolution of change, whereas the block universe denies real temporality: there is no becoming, no novelty, no agency – only timeless existence. Some versions of the block universe attempt to preserve development by proposing that the block grows. The “block” expands as new events are added to reality, but in this view, the present defines the upper boundary of the block, and the future is not truly real. This appears to be consistent with what Wright says about climate change. Everything he has to say about global warming is limited to one short paragraph: We will treat climate change as what it is: not an existential crisis but a real, physical phenomenon that is a by-product of progress. Yes, atmospheric CO2 has increased over time – but so has life expectancy. Billions of people have been lifted out of poverty. Modern medicine, telecommunications and global transportation became possible. I am willing to take the modest negative trade-off for this legacy of human advancement. From the ICJ’s perspective, this interpretation is dreadful, as the current impacts of climate change are already at odds with the rights of many groups of people. It also exhibits basic injustice, as many of the groups that suffer the most from these impacts have done next to nothing to cause the problem. However, here I am mostly concerned with the temporality of Wright’s claims. This temporality is a combination of Whiggism and blockism: so far, history has exhibited progress, but time and processes stop here, in our present moment. The third tier: nostalgia Wright’s view of time is not limited to an ultimately incoherent combination of Whiggism and blockism. There is also more than a mere hint of nostalgia. This is evident in the appeal of a Golden Age at the outset of his article: I am honoured to advance President Donald Trump’s policy of bettering lives through unleashing a golden age of energy dominance – both at home and around the world. The appeal to the Golden Age somewhat contradicts Whiggism. From a nostalgic perspective, it seems that society has been on a downward trajectory instead of progressing. In other words, regression must be possible. Within an overall Whiggish narrative, one can blame certain actors, such as the Democrats in the US political context, for causing moral and political decline.  A nationalist narrative of a “golden age” and a return to a better past (“making us great again”) is essentially connected to the denial of planetary-scale problems, such as climate change, that would clearly require novel global responses. Climate change from a real-time perspective By merging Whiggism with a block-universe ontology (either static or growing), one ends up with a pseudo-historicism that speaks of “progress” while erasing real time. In a way, such a view “performs change” through a highly selective historical narrative, while denying the ontological preconditions of real change. Real change – emergence, transformation, causation – requires a temporal ontology, where the future is real though not yet fully determined. Thus, there is no mention of global emissions that have continued to rise, their delayed effects, feedback loops, or emergent risks given multiple processes of intertwined changes. Are the basic IPCC models based on real historical time? IPCC models often treat the climate system as a bounded system with internally consistent and deterministic dynamics. The IPCC relies on modelling and uses Bayesian methods to assess uncertainties in climate projections. Bayesian statistics involve updating the probability of a hypothesis as more evidence becomes available, based on prior knowledge (priors) and new data (likelihoods). Such an approach tends to be conservative (based on moving averages, for example) and assumes the quantifiability of uncertainty. It may also convey illusory precision, especially when the underlying models or data are uncertain or incomplete. The IPCC models nonetheless indicate – in contrast to Wright – that the future is real, though the future is approached in a somewhat cautious and deterministic manner. However, many climate scientists go beyond the IPCC consensus by assuming that global heating may reach 2.5 °C or even above 3 °C degree warming by the end of the century.  From a critical scientific realist viewpoint, even such anticipations may be too circumspect. Assuming exponential growth (involving cascading events etc.) and given that recent data shows a rise from 1.0°C to 1.5°C in just 15 years (actual data taken on an annual basis, not moving averages), and using this as a basis for anticipating the future, we seem likely to reach the 2 °C mark in the 2040s and the 3 °C mark in the 2060s.  The plausibility of anticipations depends significantly on how the real openness of the future is treated. Anticipations are reflexive and can shape the future. Real time and historical change involves human freedom and ethics. The evolving universe, where time is real, is stratified, processual, and open-ended. Time involves genuine processes, real possibilities, agency, and emergent structures. Such characteristics indicate that the future is not predetermined but can be shaped by transformative agency.  To sum up, from a real historical time perspective, Wright’s combination of Whiggism, blockism, and nostalgia is a recipe for reactionary politics. Glorifying the present, thinking in a timeless way, and longing for a golden age of the past can play a major role in bringing about a dystopian planetary future.

Energy & Economics
Amsterdam, The Netherlands - Thursday, August 27, 2020 - Photo of early edition book, Adam Smith The Wealth of Nations

The Relationship Between Energy and Capital: Insights from The Wealth of Nations

by Simon Mair

Abstract To deliver low-carbon transitions, we must understand the dynamics of capital. To this end, I develop a theory of energy-capital relations by reading Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations from an energy-analysis perspective. I argue that, for Smith, capital is any resource used to support production with the intention of generating profits through market exchange. In The Wealth of Nations, capital enables access to new sources of energy and increases energy efficiency. This theory of energy-capital relations explains trends seen in historical energy data: because it is profit driven, capital does not save energy, it redirects it to new uses. This suggests that low-carbon investment can only enable a low-carbon transition if coupled to a systematic challenge to the profit drive.JEL Classification: B12, O44, P18, Q43, Q57Keywordseconomic growth, low-carbon transitions, Adam Smith, history of economic thought, capital, energy, capitalism 1. Introduction: Energy, Capital and Low-Carbon Transitions Under Capitalism To date, the green rhetoric of states and companies has not led to meaningful reductions in carbon emissions. In absolute terms, annual global carbon emissions from fossil fuels increased from ~6 gigatons of carbon per year in 1990 to ~10 gigatons of carbon per year in 2022 (Friedlingstein et al. 2023). Carbon emissions are largely driven by the energy system that supports the capitalist economy, and there is no evidence that this is decarbonizing at the global scale. In 2020, fossil fuels accounted for around 80 percent of total world energy supply, the same figure as in 1990 (IEA 2022). In 2022 carbon emissions from fossil fuels accounted for around 90 percent of total global carbon emissions, up from 80 percent in 1990 (Friedlingstein et al. 2023). Carbon emissions from energy and industrial processes hit an all-time high in 2023 (IEA 2024). To change this increasingly dire picture, it is essential that we understand the economic drivers of emissions, and what economic changes are needed to reverse current trends. There is disagreement over the extent and nature of economic change needed to facilitate a low-carbon energy transition. Radical economists agree that the global reliance on fossil fuels will require going beyond market-based solutions (Li 2011; Pianta and Lucchese 2020; Pollin 2019). But this still leaves us with a broad spectrum of options (Chester 2014). Can a low-carbon transition be implemented within a broadly capitalist framework if it is guided by an interventionist industrial strategy (Pollin 2015)? Or does it require changes to fundamental capitalist dynamics (Davis 2019; Riley 2023)? To cast new light on these debates, I take a step back from the immediate issues and take a history of economic thought approach. To this end, I explore the relationship between capital and energy in Adam Smith’s (1975) The Wealth of Nations. I use the resulting view of energy-capital relations to put forward an explanation of how energy use has developed under capitalism, and to explain why a low-carbon transition is unlikely without addressing core capitalist dynamics. The decision to develop the analysis of energy-capital relations from The Wealth of Nations is grounded in the more general epistemological claim that returning to older works of economic theory is a useful way to conduct economic analysis. Blaug (1990) reminds us that all current economic theory is built from seldom read historical texts, and historians of economic thought have argued that revisiting these texts offers the opportunity to uncover new ways of interpreting key ideas, providing theoretical context that may have been forgotten (Bögenhold 2021; Schumpeter 1954). Additionally, actively engaging with historical thought presents the possibility for moments of creativity as old and new ideas are brought together. For example, Mair, Druckman, and Jackson (2020) use an analysis of economic ideas in utopian texts from the twelfth to nineteenth centuries to develop a vision of work in a post-growth future, and Stratford (2020, 2023) develops a theory of rents and resource extraction grounded in an analysis of the historical evolution of the concept of rent. The general approach of critical engagement with history of thought is perhaps best developed in the Marxist literature, where a substantive body of work draws on Marx’s writings to critically explore environment-economy relationships (e.g., Malm 2016; Moore 2017; Pirgmaier 2021; Saitō 2022). On the other hand, relatively little attention has been paid to Adam Smith in the context of ecological or environmental economic analysis. Most recent interest in Smith’s environmental thought has come from environmental historians (see Steeds 2024 for a review). However, Steeds (2024), building on Jonsson (2014), has made the case for reading Smith as an ecological economist, arguing that Smith shares core ontological precepts of the discipline—notably that it is the environment that underpins all economic activity. Smith (1975) is particularly relevant to debates about low-carbon transitions because The Wealth of Nations is the starting point for an interpretation of capital theory that has become widely used in energy-economy analyses. Capital theory itself has a long and storied history, with analysts giving it a variety of characteristics (Cannan 1921; Kurz 1990; Mair 2022). Contemporary economic analyses of energy generally use a physical concept of capital. A common position for economists who focus on energy is that energy is important because energy use and capital are “quantity complements”: all else equal, when capital increases the energy used in production increases (Elkomy, Mair, and Jackson 2020; Finn 2000; Sakai et al. 2019). Conceived of as “representative machinery,” capital is seen as the physical stuff that channels energy use into production (Keen, Ayres, and Standish 2019: 41). Or as Daly (1968: 397) puts it, “physical capital is essentially matter that is capable of trapping energy and channeling it to human purposes.” This physical conception has its roots in the dominant interpretation of capital from The Wealth of Nations. Prior to The Wealth of Nations, capital was a predominantly monetary construct, but historians of economic thought argue that after The Wealth of Nations, capital is taken to be predominantly physical (Hodgson 2014; Schumpeter 1954). However, I argue that Smith’s view of capital is actually a long way from the almost purely physical views seen in much energy-economy work. Rather, Smith’s view of capital is proto-Marxist. As Evensky (2005: 141) puts it, “Whether or not it was from Smith that Marx developed his notion of capital as self-expanding value, the outlines of that conception were certainly available to him in Smith.” From Smith’s perspective, capital is defined primarily as a socio-physical construct (Blaug 1990; Evensky 2005; Meek 1954). Capital sometimes has physical forms, which enables it to interact with flows of energy, but these are always conditioned by the social dynamics of profit and exchange. Making a direct connection to energy requires reading Smith from the contemporary perspective of energy-economy analysis as developed by the subdisciplines of ecological, biophysical, and exergy economics (Brockway et al. 2019; Jackson 1996; Keen, Ayres, and Standish 2019; Smil 2017a). This is because, as a construct, “capital” pre-dates “energy,” and Smith was writing before the first recorded use of the term energy as we would understand it today (by physicist Thomas Young in 1807, see: Frontali 2014). So although work into energy—particularly among ecological economists and their forerunners in energy systems analysis (Cleveland et al. 1984; Odum 1973; Sakai et al. 2019)—uses a concept of capital that has its roots in an interpretation of Smith’s capital theory, explicit links are missing in Smith’s text. Despite this, Steeds (2024) argues that Smith’s analysis of agriculture shows an understanding of what contemporary analysts would call energy, a theme I develop here focusing on Smith’s conceptualization of capital. The rest of this article is structured as follows. In section 2, I set out an interpretation of Smith’s capital theory from The Wealth of Nations that emphasizes the way it sees physical elements of capital as defined by social forces. In section 3, I outline the ways that energy fits into Smith’s theory of capital. This is the first contribution of the article, as I make novel links between Smith’s capital theory and contemporary energy-economy analysis. In section 4, I apply this interpretation of energy-capital relations to the historical evolution of energy use under capitalism, and the question of low-carbon transitions. This is the second contribution of the article, as I argue that Smith’s capital theory highlights the importance of the social context of energy systems. Specifically, it provides compelling explanations for the phenomenon of “energy additions”—where past “transitions” under capitalism have been associated with the overall growth of energy use (York and Bell 2019). This implies that the challenge of a low-carbon transition is not only investment in low-carbon energy systems but in challenging the logic of capitalism such that low-carbon energy can replace, rather than add to, the use of high-carbon energy. 2. Capital as a Socio-physical Construct in The Wealth of Nations Interpretations of Smith’s capital theory generally emphasize its physical aspects (e.g., Cannan 1921; Hodgson 2014; Schumpeter 1954). These readings focus on Smith’s initial description of capital as a subset of the accumulation of the physical outputs of production (in Smith’s terminology “stock” [cf. Smith 1975: 279]), and the skills and abilities of workers (Smith 1975: 282). The focus on physical aspects of Smith’s capital theory makes sense from a history of ideas perspective. The physical aspects of Smith’s capital stand in contrast with earlier definitions that were primarily monetary (Hodgson 2014). There is also an intellectual lineage that can be traced in Smith’s views on capital, principally through Smith’s relationship with the French Physiocratic school whose own economic analysis emphasized physical flows (Meek 1954; Schumpeter 1954). However, the fact that Smith introduced a new role for physical goods within a broader concept of capital does not imply that Smith’s theory of capital was purely physical (Robinson 1962). Rather, Smith views capital as the accumulated monetary and physical resources that are brought into production to generate a profit. To see this, let us look first at Smith’s view of circulating capital. Smith splits capital into two forms, circulating and fixed, and he is explicit that circulating capital has both monetary and physical forms. For Smith, circulating capital is defined by the fact that to turn a profit from it, its owner must give it up in exchange for something else. Consequently, circulating capital takes multiple forms: it is the money that will be used to pay wages to a worker, the product produced by that worker, the money realized at the point of sale of the product, and the commodities purchased using the money realized. As Smith (1975: 279) puts it, circulating capital is continually going from the capitalist “in one shape, and returning to him in another. . . it is only by means of such circulation. . . that it can yield him any profit.” Circulating capital is a process of purchasing and selling resources, often with a monetary form, in order to make more money (Evensky 2005). Circulating capital has different forms (some physical, some not) at different points in its circulation, but it is consistently capital. Even when capital takes on its physical form, for Smith it is the underlying social dynamics of exchange and profit that define it as capital. In his opening to book 2, Smith argues that capital is an emergent property of exchange-based economies (Smith 1975: 276). In a society with no division of labor, he argues, people are self-sufficient, and there is very little exchange. But once you have a division of labor, you get exchange because each worker uses their labor to produce a subset of the goods needed to live. Other workers use their labor to produce a different subset of goods. The two then trade with one another to ensure all their needs are met. Drawing on the work of the Physiocrats, Smith then observes that production takes time (Schumpeter 1954). Consequently, in a market system, the purchasing of goods from other people “cannot be made till such time as the produce of his own labor has not only been completed, but sold” (Smith 1975: 276). This means that in either a monetary or barter economy, there has to be a stock of physical goods previously accumulated in order to enable work to happen before the products of that work have been sold (or are available for barter). For Smith, these goods are a form of capital. In this sense, capital can be physical commodities—but physical commodities accumulated in order to support exchange. For Smith, profits are also an essential part of the definition of capital (Meek 1954). Whether fixed or circulating, physical or monetary, what makes something capital is the desire of the capitalist to earn money from it (e.g., Smith 1975: 281, 332). Smith’s theory of profit is scattered through The Wealth of Nations and is not entirely comprehensive (Blaug 1990; Christensen 1979). However, Smith does identify a construct called profits with some core tendencies that are sufficient to group him in the classical approach to profit as surplus and deduction (Hirsch 2021; Kurz 1990; Meek 1977). For Smith, surplus is primarily derived from the value that labor adds to raw materials. This value then goes to pay the wages of the worker and other costs of production, one of which is “the profits of their employer” (Smith 1975: 66). So, Smith’s theory of profit is deductive. Profit is the money capitalists attempt to gain back from production after all costs—including wages—have been accounted for (Meek 1977). An important addition here is that the profit drive for Smith is speculative: capitalists bring capital to support production because they “expect” to generate more money (Smith 1975: 279, 332)—it is not guaranteed. The attempt to gain profit is because capitalists use this as their income (cf. Smith 1975: 69, 279). This attempt is central to the dynamics of capital because profit is the “sole motive” that a capitalist has for bringing their resources into the exchange cycle of the economy (Smith 1975: 374). To summarize, for Smith, capital is the accumulated resources (whether physical or monetary) brought to bear in support of exchange-based production, the ultimate aim of which is to provide the owner of capital with an income (profits). Consequently, it is not correct to view Smith’s capital theory as purely or even predominantly physical. Rather Smith’s capital is a socio-physical construct. This interpretation is not a refutation of other readings that emphasize the physical aspect of Smith’s theory. The physical elements are present, are important, and are relevant to our discussion of energy. However, the underlying premise is always that these physical elements are defined by social relations of profits and exchange. This analysis fits with readings of Smith that see his capital theory as proto-Marxist because of the way it frames capital in terms of social relations (Hodgson 2014; Pack 2013; Tsoulfidis and Paitaridis 2012). But it strongly cautions away from discussions of capital that abstract from these social relations in ways that leave capital as purely physical things. As with Marx (2013), when Smith talks about capital as physical things, his focus is on the way the physical interacts with social relations. 3. How Does Energy Fit into Smith’s Capital Theory? Having sketched an interpretation of Smith’s capital theory focusing on the interplay of profit, exchange dynamics, and monetary and physical resources, we can turn to the question of how energy fits into Smith’s capital theory. In this section, I draw on energy-economy analysis to suggest two key ways in which energy might fit into Smith’s capital theory: 1. Capital is used to bring new energy sources into production.2. Capital is used to make existing energy flows more efficient. 3.1. Accessing new energy sources For Smith, one of the key ways that capitalists aim to generate profits from capital is by using it to increase labor productivity (in Smith’s terms “abridging” labor, see: Smith 1975: 17, 282). Here we have a link to energy-economy analysis, where labor productivity is often described in terms of substituting human labor for other forms of energy—since the industrial revolution this has typically happened through some form of fossil fuel–powered machinery (Smil 2017a). Smith discusses machinery in a number of places across The Wealth of Nations. Indeed, Kurz (2010: 1188) writes that one of Smith’s key growth mechanisms is the replacement of “labor power by machine power.” In chapter 11 of book 1 of The Wealth of Nations (Smith 1975: 263), Smith discusses how cloth production in Italy was made more productive than in England by employing wind and water mills in the former, while the latter treaded it by foot. This is the same example pointed to by energy scientist Vaclav Smil (2017a), who argues that the introduction of waterwheels into industrial production were a source of substantive labor productivity growth. Energy-analysis allows us to say why the wind and water is more productive than the treading. Energy provides a variety of functions, known as “energy services,” which are essential for production processes (Grubler et al. 2012). These are intuitive when put in the context of everyday experiences: achieving a comfortable temperature in an office or workplace requires thermal energy. Transporting goods or people requires kinetic energy. In the case of cloth production, the fulling process requires kinetic energy to manipulate the fibers of the cloth. To deliver energy services, energy sources go through a series of transformations, known as the conversion chain (Brockway et al. 2019; Grubler et al. 2012). Energy is accessible to us through different carriers—known as primary energy sources (such as food, oil, or gas). In most use cases primary energy sources are then converted into other forms before delivering their service (Smil 2017b). This conversion is done by “conversion technologies.” Muscles are a “technology” that can be used to convert the chemical energy in food into mechanical energy. Oil or solar energy may be converted into electricity. Different economic processes may use multiple forms of energy with energy from multiple carriers requiring transformation multiple times. From the perspective of increasing labor productivity, what is important is having energy available to do “useful” work (meaning provide the specific energy services that serve the interests of the system) (Brockway et al. 2019). The more energy available to do useful work, the more economic activity can be carried out per person. One way to increase the amount of useful energy available is by adding new primary energy sources to the system. This process often requires new conversion processes that enable the energy in the primary energy sources to be accessed and converted into energy services. In the case of cloth production, the introduction of wind or water mills is an example of capital taking the form of a new conversion technology that enables access to a different primary energy source (Smil 2017b). In the human-powered treading process, solar energy is converted into chemical energy through the agricultural system. The chemical energy in food products acts as the primary energy source. People then eat this food, converting it to mechanical energy that manipulates the cloth as they tread it under foot. On the other hand, a wind or water mill introduces a new conversion technology that enables access to the energy available in wind and water by converting it into mechanical energy. Note that this process is not only about energy efficiency. Wind and water mills are typically more energy efficient than human-power, but just as crucially they are more powerful: they bring a greater quantity of energy into the process of cloth production (Smil 2017b). The importance of scale is seen across energy-economy analysis. Hall and Klitgaard (2012: 117) draw on Polyani’s (1944) substantive definition of an economy to argue that all economic activity is the application of work to transform natural resources into goods and services. In the past, most of the work of transformation was done through muscle-power, but today muscle-power is a much smaller proportion of total work carried out because of the development of machinery that allows us to supplement our muscles with the “‘large muscles’ of fossil fuels.” 3.2. Increasing energy efficiency There are places in The Wealth of Nations where we might hypothesize about energy efficiency gains explicitly. For instance, Smith tells an apocryphal tale involving a child and a fire engine, presented as an example of innovation leading to labor productivity growth. Smith writes that in the earliest fire engines a boy would be employed to open and shut different valves, until one such boy finds a way to connect the valves such that they “open and shut without his assistance” (Smith 1975: 20). Such an innovation adjusts capital in order to enable it to convert more of the primary energy source into useful energy. Prior to the boy’s innovation, the system required two primary energy inputs: the fossil energy to power the machine, and the food energy to power the boy. Once the boy innovates, the primary energy associated with his action is removed from the process and the machine uses only the fossil energy, thus increasing its overall energy efficiency. But machinery is not the only way in which humans’ access and turn energy flows toward growth of the economy in Smith’s capital theory. Smith considers the useful abilities of workers to be a form of capital and here we can see another place where energy efficiency may fit into Smiths capital theory. When defining the useful abilities of workers Smith refers to dexterity: the skills and abilities acquired by workers through the repetition and simplification of tasks. When defining dexterity Smith talks about it in terms of efficiency gains. For example, a worker specializing in the production of nails will become more skilled in their production, and hence more efficient (Smith 1975: 18). But nowhere does Smith imply that an increase in dexterity is miraculous. And although it is intimately bound up with social organization through the division of labor, we can see how energy may fit into the process. Specifically, the increase in dexterity can be understood as partly a function of the fact that energy flows are being used more efficiently. Workers learn the best way to stir the fire, to heat iron and shape the head of the nail. An increase in the skill of a worker enables them to use energy more efficiently. In this way, more efficient use of energy flows can be seen as one of the ways that the division of labor enables increases in productivity. 3.3. Summary of the energy-capital relation in The Wealth of Nations Smith views capital as the monetary and physical resources that are brought by capitalists into exchange processes with the intention of generating an income for themselves. Smith, like Marx, is clear that all production ultimately rests on inputs from the natural environment, so it is not surprising that in The Wealth of Nations we found examples of a subset of capital that generates profits by changing the way energy is used in production processes. Specifically, I presented two mechanisms that can be identified in The Wealth of Nations: bringing new energy sources into the economy (the transition from human power to wind and waterpower in the fulling process), and being made more energy efficient (through machinery innovations and specialization of labor). We can now apply this interpretation of Smith’s energy-capital theory to the question of low-carbon transitions. The examples I have elaborated support Steeds (2024: 35) notion that Smith has an “intuitive” understanding of energy. Some of the critical functions of Smith’s conception of capital can be explained in terms of how it mediates our relationship to energy. In this way, Smith’s reading is close to more modern accounts of the role of energy (Keen, Ayres, and Standish 2019, Sakai et al. 2019). But what differentiates Smith’s from these accounts is an explicit emphasis on the social context in which energy is used by capital. Some accounts of the energy-economy relationship effectively, or explicitly, reduce production to energy use. In Smith’s account by contrast, energy use is framed and shaped by social forces. Recalling Smith’s core understanding of capital from section 2, it is clear that energy is being harnessed by capital in an attempt to generate profits within a market process. In other words, in a capitalist economy where most production follows the logic of capital, the major driver of energy use will be the attempt to generate incomes for the owners of capital. This insight, though simple, is often overlooked and has profound implications for a low-carbon transition. 4. A Smithian Analysis of Low-Carbon Transitions Under Capitalism In this section, I apply the insights from the reading of Smith’s capital theory to historical data on energy use under capitalism. I argue that the theory provides a simple and compelling explanation for the constant expansion of energy use as new forms of energy have been added to the mix. Capitalists seek to use energy to grow their profits; therefore, they invest in efficiency measures or new energy sources in order to increase the total energy available to them. Energy is never saved in the sense of not being used. Rather, it is made available to new profit-seeking ventures. Across both mainstream and radical interventions into low-carbon transition debates, there is often a focus on the investment needed to grow low-carbon and energy efficiency programs (e.g., Hrnčić et al. 2021; Pollin 2015, 2019; Qadir et al. 2021). The central argument in these works is that low-carbon transitions require substantial but not unreasonable levels of investment in low-carbon energy and energy efficiency programs. Approaching this from the perspective of energy-capital relations developed in this article, we are looking at the need to transition capital from one conversion technology to another. Today, much capital takes the form of conversion technologies designed to access the energy in fossil fuels. For a low-carbon economy we need capital to take the form of conversion technologies that can access energy in wind, solar, or other low-carbon forms. It is tempting to think about this in terms of the transition described by Smith from labor power to wind power in the fulling process. However, there is a fundamental difference between the transition from one energy source to another as developed in The Wealth of Nations, and that needed in the low-carbon transition. Historically, transitions between dominant energy sources under capitalism have been consistent with Smith’s argument that capital is only motivated by the desire for profit. Past energy transitions under capitalism have been driven by a search for greater profits enabled by the new energy sources, not by pro-social or pro-ecological values. For example, Malm (2016) argues that the English transition from wood to water was driven by the desire of capitalists to concentrate and better control their workforce, simultaneously reducing losses from theft, making workers more efficient, and bringing a greater scale of energy into the production process. The consequence of the consistent searching for profits in capitalist energy transitions is that we have very few examples of energy sources declining under capitalism at the macro-scale. Under capitalism, energy transitions are better described as energy additions (York and Bell 2019). In recent decades, there has been a remarkable growth in the use of low-carbon energy sources, but at no point in this period has energy production from fossil fuels decreased (figure 1; Malanima 2022). Indeed, looking at the evolution of 9 categories of primary energy sources since 1820 (figure 1), only fodder has seen a prolonged decrease under capitalism. For instance, in absolute terms, energy from coal overtakes fuelwood as the largest primary energy carrier in the late 1800s. But after this point the energy supplied by fuelwood continues to grow. Even in the case of fodder, although it has been in decline for approximately sixty years it still provided more than twice as much energy in 2020 than it did in 1820. Looking specifically at low-carbon fuels, the charts for renewables and nuclear energy show dramatic spikes and rapid growth. But these spikes do not coincide with declines in any other fuel source, and the International Energy Agency (IEA 2023a, 2023b) reports that 2022 was an all-time high for coal production, and forecasts record oil production in 2024.   Figure 2 depicts global energy efficiency, the scale of global production, and the total primary energy use 1820–2018. Energy efficiency of the global capitalist economy has improved drastically over the two-hundred-year period covered: in 2018, producing one unit of output took only 40 percent of the energy it would have taken in 1820. But as energy efficiency has grown, so has total energy use and total output, and these changes dwarf the gains in energy efficiency. In 2018, 41 times as much energy was used as in 1820, while global production grew by 2 orders of magnitude over the same period.   From the lens of our interpretation of Smith’s capital theory, the constant expansion of fossil fuel use alongside renewables and energy efficiency gains is not surprising. The purpose of capital development and deployment in our Smithian lens is to increase income for capitalists by facilitating exchange. So, we would expect capitalists to invest in capital that enables them to access new sources of energy, like renewables, in order to bring a greater scale and quantity of energy into production. But we would also expect them to continue to invest in fossil fuels for the same reasons. More energy means more production means more profit. Likewise, we would expect capitalists to use their capital to increase energy efficiency: this reduces their costs. But we would also expect capitalists to take subsequent energy savings and use them to increase production further. As energy is used more efficiently in any given process, more energy is available to be used elsewhere in the economy or, as new energy sources are brought into production, the old sources are made available for new processes (Garrett 2014; Sakai et al. 2019; York and Bell 2019). As long as the capitalist appetite for greater incomes is present, they will seek to direct energy “savings” into new or expanded forms of production. The practical implication of this theoretical analysis is that investment in low-carbon energy sources and energy efficiency measures—no matter how bold the proposals—will not succeed without a change to the social dynamics of capitalist production. Achieving a low-carbon transition therefore requires the formidable task of coupling a large and sustained investment program in renewables and energy efficiency with a challenge to the structural logic of capital. This requires wide-ranging shifts within capitalist economies to build low-carbon energy infrastructure and develop ways of producing that disrupt the constant profit chasing of capital. The former is required to ensure action can begin now, while the latter is needed to ensure that low-carbon investments do not simply continue to expand the energy base of capitalist production. Elaborating on such possibilities is beyond the scope of this article. However, there are research programs that seek to understand alternatives to profit-driven capitalist production, notably work in post-capitalism and the post-growth/degrowth literatures that identify noncapitalist logics of production (Gibson-Graham 2014; Colombo, Bailey, and Gomes, 2024; Mair 2024; Vandeventer, Lloveras, and Warnaby 2024). A useful future direction for research lies in asking how such non-capitalist modes of production might be scaled and applied to the global energy system. 5. Conclusion In this article I have used a history of economic thought approach to analyze the relationship between energy and capital. Rereading The Wealth of Nations, I argued that Smith’s theory of capital is fundamentally socio-physical. Smith views capital as any accumulated resource that is used to support the exchange cycle of the market economy with the expectation that this will return a profit for the owner of the resource. Based on this reading, I argued that there are two ways in which energy might enter into Adam Smith’s capital theory: (1) capital is used to bring new energy sources into production; and (2) capital is used to make existing energy flows more efficient. Using this view of energy-capital relations, we can explain the major trends in historical energy-capital relations under capitalism. Over the last two hundred years, energy use has grown continuously, and the incorporation of new primary energy sources has not systematically led to reductions in older primary energy sources. This is consistent with the idea that capital is used to bring new energy sources into production. Investment in renewables is what we would expect: renewable energy technology allows capitalists to access new primary energy sources. They use this to generate more profits. They continue to invest in fossil fuel technology for the same reasons. Over the last two hundred years, there have been substantive gains in energy efficiency, and these have not led to reductions in energy use. This is consistent with the idea that capital is used to make energy use more efficient. The motivation of capitalists to make energy more efficient is to be more profitable. They then take energy savings from energy efficiency gains and use these to increase production, in an attempt to make more profits. The implication of this analysis is that investment in low-carbon technology and energy efficiency is the (relatively!) easy part of achieving a low-carbon transition. These dynamics are fundamentally compatible with the logics of capital. The barrier to achieving a low-carbon transition is that as long as this investment takes the form of “capital” (i.e., it chases profits and supports exchange processes), then it is unlikely that investment in renewables or energy efficiency programs will reduce energy use from fossil fuels. To achieve a low-carbon transition we must invest in low-carbon technology and energy efficiency, while simultaneously developing new organizational forms that challenge the capitalist dynamics of expansion and accumulation. AcknowledgmentsI would like to thank Christiane Heisse, Don Goldstein, and Robert McMaster, for their careful reviews and Enid Arvidson for her editorial work, all of which greatly improved the article. I would like to thank participants of the workshops Economic Theory for the Anthropocene (organized by the Centre for the Understanding of Sustainable Prosperity and the University of Surrey Institute for Advanced Studies) and The Political Economy of Capitalism (organized by the Institute for New Economic Thinking Young Scholar Initiative working groups on the Economics of Innovation and Economic History). Particular thanks to Richard Douglas, Angela Druckman, Ben Gallant, Elena Hofferberth, Tim Jackson, Andy Jarvis, Mary O’Sullivan, and Elke Pirgmaier for fruitful discussions. I would like to thank the Marxist Internet Archive for making The Wealth of Nations freely available.Declaration of Conflicting InterestsThe author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.FundingThe author disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This work was partly funded by the Economic and Social Research Council through the Centre for the Understanding of Sustainability, grant no. ES/M010163/1.ORCID iDSimon Mair https://orcid.org/0000-0001-5143-8668Note1 The full sources for the Maddison Project Database are Abad and Van Zanden (2016); Álvarez-Nogal and De La Escosura (2013); Baffigi (2011); Barro and Ursúa (2008); Bassino et al. (2019); Bértola et al. (2012); Bértola (2016); Broadberry et al. (2015); Broadberry, Custodis, and Gupta (2015); Broadberry, Guan, and Li (2018); Buyst (2011); Cha et al. 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Diplomacy
President Donald Trump poses for a photo with President Ilham Aliyev of Azerbaijan and Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan of Armenia, Friday, August 8, 2025, in the Oval Office. (Official White House Photo by Daniel Torok)

Historic Breakthrough for Peace in the South Caucasus?

by Jakob Wöllenstein

Pashinyan and Aliyev sign groundbreaking agreements with Trump on peace and infrastructure projects between Armenia and Azerbaijan On August 8, Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan and Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev met with U.S. President Donald Trump at the White House for a “historic peace summit.” Both countries declared a permanent renunciation of war, endorsed 17 negotiated provisions of a future peace treaty, and formally withdrew from the OSCE Minsk Group. At the heart of the agreement lies the “Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity” (TRIPP), an infrastructure initiative in Armenia’s Syunik region encompassing railways, pipelines, and fiber-optic networks. In exchange, the United States receives exclusive development rights for 99 years, while Armenia retains formal sovereignty over the territory. The deal diminishes Russia’s regional influence, strengthens Turkey’s strategic position, and provokes discontent in Iran. For Armenia, the agreement opens up new trade opportunities but also entails risks due to the rupture with traditional partners and domestic political criticism. Azerbaijan gains a direct land corridor to Turkey, access to new markets, and enhanced international prestige. For the United States, the deal offers economic and security benefits as well as a boost in global political standing. The European Union sees potential for regional stabilization and new trade routes but must acknowledge its diminished role as a mediator compared to Washington. If successfully implemented, the agreements could mark a historic turning point for the South Caucasus. Three-Way Summit at the White House While the world was watching the American tariff ultimatum to Putin, wondering whether a ceasefire in Ukraine might be imminent, an unexpected high-level meeting took place at the White House on August 8—one that could also make history and is at least indirectly linked to the larger conflict in Eastern Europe. Donald Trump personally received Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan and Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev for what he—never shy of grand words—had announced as a “historic peace summit.” Against the backdrop of the nearly four-decade-long, geopolitically charged conflict between the two countries and the resulting blockade in the South Caucasus, this represented a breakthrough in efforts toward a peace treaty between Yerevan and Baku. Several agreements and contracts were signed. In addition to separate bilateral economic and investment deals with the U.S., and the official withdrawal of both capitals from the OSCE Minsk Group (a format established in 1992 to resolve the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict), two documents stand out in particular. Letter of Intent: Peace Treaty The first is a letter of intent in which both governments—under the symbolic mediation and patronage of the U.S.—reaffirm their commitment to finalize the ongoing peace treaty. The 17 points already negotiated are set as binding. Both parties declare their intention to end all wars permanently and renounce any acts of revenge. The core issue remains the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, which since the late 1980s has claimed up to 50,000 lives and caused the displacement of hundreds of thousands. After more than thirty years of fruitless international mediation, Azerbaijan had created facts on the ground through its (re)conquest of Nagorno-Karabakh in two offensives in 2020 and 2023. Since then, Pashinyan’s government has sought a peace treaty, aiming to open borders not only with Azerbaijan but also with its close ally, Turkey. This effort entails effectively relinquishing claims to the Nagorno-Karabakh region, historically inhabited by Armenians for centuries. However, Baku had repeatedly made additional demands, such as amending the Armenian constitution or granting a corridor to its exclave of Nakhchivan through Armenian territory in the strategically sensitive Syunik/Zangezur region.[1] This long, narrow strip of land in southern Armenia—only about 30 km wide at its narrowest—separates Azerbaijan’s mainland from its western province and also forms Armenia’s direct border with Iran, a crucial lifeline for the historically beleaguered landlocked state. Granting the Azeris a “corridor” here had long been a red line for Yerevan. Mutual distrust remains high after decades of hostile propaganda, and Armenian society is deeply traumatized by the recent war’s displacement, cultural destruction, and fears of a potential annexation of the province by Baku. It is at this juncture that the U.S. steps in as a kind of “neutral” guarantor power for the so-called corridor. Trump Route for Peace and Prosperity In the second, and arguably most important, Washington agreement, the U.S. is granted 99-year exclusive special rights to develop infrastructure in the Syunik/Zangezur region. Through an Armenian-American joint venture, led by a consortium of private companies (including potential third-country partners), the so-called “Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity” (TRIPP) is to be built. In addition to restoring a disused railway line for passenger and freight traffic, plans include new oil and gas pipelines and fiber-optic cables. Unlike some earlier proposals, the territory itself is not being leased to the U.S.—this is a commercial project in which Armenia retains full sovereign control. However, the use of private American security firms to protect the infrastructure is possible. After the meeting, all three leaders hailed the results as “historic,” and the European Union also voiced strong approval. But while the immediate participants stand to benefit significantly from implementing the deals, the likely losers are in Moscow and Tehran. Yerevan Distances Itself from Moscow Opening borders with long-hostile neighbors offers significant economic potential. Access to the Turkish market in particular could stimulate new growth. Geopolitically, it opens previously closed avenues for diversification; notably, the already ongoing strengthening of ties with the EU and the West could reach a new level. Since autumn 2023, Yerevan has been promoting its “Crossroads of Peace” project, a plan to expand cross-border infrastructure in the South Caucasus, in which the Syunik region is a crucial puzzle piece. The Washington deals also come with American investment commitments—not only in energy and infrastructure but also in fields such as semiconductor production and AI. Germany and the EU have also long pledged investments in Armenia’s transport links and regional connectivity. At the same time, bringing a U.S. presence into such a geostrategically vital chokepoint is a clear affront to both Russia and Iran, historically important partners for Armenia. Until recently, Moscow was considered Armenia’s indispensable security guarantor and still maintains a military presence in the country. Yet since 2023, Yerevan has been openly turning away from Russia. Until early 2025, Russian FSB forces still controlled Armenia’s border crossings to Turkey and Iran—a Soviet-era legacy—but Armenians have since taken over. In July, Pashinyan’s government even claimed to have foiled a Russian-backed coup attempt. At the end of August, Armenia will host joint military exercises with the U.S. for the third time under the name “Eagle Partner.” This is also unwelcome news for Tehran. Despite stark cultural and political differences, the Islamic Republic and Armenia share an interest in keeping trade routes open to Europe and Russia in light of their rivalry with Azerbaijan and Turkey. A U.S. presence right on its doorstep in Syunik would be a security nightmare for Iran and could disrupt this export route. For Yerevan, given Trump’s unpredictability in foreign policy, it is not without risk to damage relations with a friendly neighbor and openly break with Russia. Domestically, Pashinyan faces fierce criticism over the agreement. The opposition accuses him of having completely abandoned the Nagorno-Karabakh issue, failing to secure any prospect of return for the 100,000 displaced Armenians, and not holding Baku accountable for alleged war crimes. Voices from the Syunik region itself fear a sell-out of their land, new political tensions, and economic harm from a collapse in trade and tourism with Iran. Nevertheless, the Armenian Prime Minister hopes to benefit politically from the agreement. In the 2026 parliamentary elections, he aims for re-election, but his approval ratings recently stood at just over ten percent. A breakthrough in the peace process—which he has long declared the top priority of his foreign policy—could give him a vital boost, as the overwhelming majority of Armenians want peace. Baku’s Interests Critics had accused Baku of using a “salami tactic” of making ever-new demands to extract maximum concessions from Pashinyan’s government without genuine interest in a peace treaty—especially if it would bring economic growth and stability to its long-time enemy, and democratic, systemic rival, Armenia. But Azerbaijan’s own economic prospects are also a strong driving force. A direct land link from Azerbaijan’s heartland through Nakhchivan to Turkey offers major potential for trade and energy exports to Europe. At the same time, Aliyev wants to position his country for the post-fossil era as a hub for transit and trade. This requires open borders and international trust. With Pashinyan’s government seen as Baku’s “best chance” to secure a deal quickly and on favorable terms, Aliyev also has an interest in finalizing the agreement soon. For a government that has recently tightened the screws on what remains of a free press and democratic civil society, positioning itself on the world stage as part of a major peace initiative is a welcome image boost. Events like COP-29 (2024) and the Global Media Forum (2025) have already been used by Aliyev to polish his image and sideline human rights issues. Partners like Beijing have little concern for such matters, and Azerbaijan’s location on the “Middle Corridor” is already paying off: trade with China rose 25 percent in the first quarter of 2025. Relations with Moscow, however, have sunk to a new low since the downing of an Azerbaijani passenger plane in December 2024 and further escalations. By signing the Washington deal—paired with the lifting of U.S. arms export restrictions—Baku makes clear that it has finally emancipated itself from its former colonial power, Russia. U.S. Interests For the U.S. President, the “historic peace deals” are partly about business. Businessman Trump sees the opportunity and named as the goal of the route bearing his name “to fully unlock the potential of the South Caucasus region.” An American presence in such a geostrategically important area, right on Iran’s doorstep, is also a significant security move. Even if no state “boots on the ground” are planned to secure the project, joint military exercises are already taking place, and private security companies would still count as a U.S. presence. The new rapprochement between Washington and Baku also fits neatly into broader Middle East dynamics. While Baku’s relations with Tehran fluctuate between occasional cooperation and open rivalry, Azerbaijan is considered Israel’s most important partner among Muslim countries—particularly in security and intelligence cooperation. With Washington now lifting arms export restrictions for Baku, some observers see a possible new trilateral alliance between Washington, Tel Aviv, and Baku against Iran. Not least, the very name “TRIPP” suggests prestige plays a role for the U.S. President. With the “one day” in which Donald Trump said he would end the Russian war in Ukraine now in its eighth month, it suits the self-proclaimed Nobel Peace Prize candidate to claim that his genius has solved a nearly forty-year conflict through infrastructure projects (paid for by others) where the world’s major powers—and most recently Joe Biden—had failed. The White House promptly tweeted a photo after the summit captioned: “THE Peace President.” Europe’s Interests EU representatives and leading member states explicitly welcomed the Washington agreements. Not only German President Steinmeier and EU foreign policy chief Kallas had advocated for a peace treaty during visits to the region earlier this year, but Macron also expressed his support during a summer meeting with Pashinyan. The fact that the Europeans failed to take Washington’s place as guarantors of a peace deal—even though a similar offer involving a Swiss company was reportedly on the table—is as sobering as it is unsurprising. However, given that a qualitatively new U.S. presence could help stabilize this vital region in the EU’s neighborhood, weaken Putin’s war-waging Russia, diversify energy sources, and ultimately channel many of the new trade routes into the European heartland, the EU stands to gain much from the agreement. If the Armenians now get a boost to pursue their European ambitions, this offers an opportunity for greater engagement from Brussels and member states—especially through economic investments that expand the European footprint in the region and reduce Armenia’s painful dependence on Russia in trade and energy. Already Historic? Although Trump’s self-congratulatory statements after the meeting might have led some to believe the peace treaty was already a done deal, there are still hurdles to the final signing. Aliyev emphasized that Pashinyan’s government must first “do its homework,” referring primarily to the politically contentious constitutional amendment in Armenia. The planned “Trump Route” currently exists only on paper. Russia and Iran see their interests in the region directly threatened by the project, and although Russia’s weakness is largely self-inflicted—starting (at the latest) with its 2022 invasion of Ukraine, which has since tied up most of its resources—both countries can be expected to take steps to disrupt or even block TRIPP’s construction. Tehran has already declared it will “turn the project into a grave.” Turkey, by contrast, stands to benefit if it can use the new economic links to expand its role as a regional power in the Caucasus. It will also be interesting to see how the deal might indirectly affect Georgia, an EU candidate country that is rapidly drifting away from the West. The expansion of alternative transport routes could undermine Georgia’s current monopoly on direct overland links between the EU, Azerbaijan, and Central Asia—the overhaul of the key Baku–Tbilisi–Kars railway is nearly complete. The “businessman”-controlled Georgian Dream government might thus become more “receptive” to economic pressure aimed at steering it back toward a democratic, pro-European course. If both agreements—a peace settlement, an open border, and the comprehensive development of planned infrastructure projects in the Syunik region under U.S. patronage—are implemented, the label “historic” would be entirely appropriate, with significance far beyond the region. Economically, it would make an important contribution to boosting connectivity between Europe and Central and East Asia via the “Middle Corridor” and the Caspian Sea. [1] The official name of the Armenian province is Syunik. The term Zangezur, on the other hand, is mainly used by Azerbaijan and Turkey and refers to a historical region that extends beyond the present-day province of Syunik.

Diplomacy
NEW YORK, USA - JUNE 21 2013 - United Nations security council hall headquartered in New York City, in a complex designed by architect Niemeyer open to public.

The UN in crisis: Justice without power, power without justice

by Francisco Edinson Bolvaran Dalleto

Abstract The United Nations (UN), eighty years after its creation, faces a structural crisis that reveals the tension between justice and power. This essay examines how the design of the Security Council, with its veto power, perpetuates an unequal order inherited from 1945 and limits the effectiveness of the collective security system. Through theoretical perspectives — Morgenthau, Schmitt, Habermas, Falk, and Strange — it is shown that international law remains subordinated to power interests, that proclaimed universality masks hegemonies, and that global economic dynamics lie beyond institutional reach. Cases such as Kosovo, Libya, Gaza, and Myanmar illustrate the paralysis and delegitimization of the Responsibility to Protect. Considering this scenario, two paths emerge: reforming multilateralism with limits on the veto and greater representativeness or resigning to a fragmented order. The conclusion is clear: without adaptation, the UN will become a symbolic forum, making chronic its inability to respond to current challenges. Dag Hammarskjöld, the second Secretary-General of the UN, warned: “The United Nations was not created to take us to heaven, but to save us from hell.” [1] Eighty years after its founding, that promise seems to falter in the face of multiple wars, such as those in Gaza, Ukraine, Sudan, or Myanmar, among many others, with a sense of ineffectiveness, loss of prestige, and collective impotence being perceived: does the UN no longer fulfill the role it once assumed? At first glance, blame falls solely on the nature of the institution itself. But the root of the problem seems to lie not only in New York, but also in the main capitals of the world. The UN is nothing more than what States allow it to be. Its effectiveness depends on the will of those who comprise it; and the uncomfortable truth is that the great powers prefer to limit its scope rather than cede parcels of sovereignty. As John Rawls pointed out, a just international system requires that peoples accept common principles of justice. [2] Today, by contrast, it is a constant that collective interest systematically gives way to particular interest. The Security Council is the most evident symbol of this contradiction. It remains anchored in post-war logic, with five permanent members clinging to the privilege of the veto. That power, already met with skepticism in San Francisco in 1945, turned into a tool of paralysis. As Canada denounced in 2022, the veto is “as anachronistic as it is undemocratic” and has prevented responses to atrocities. [3] Aristotle said that “justice is equality, but only for equals.” [4] In the UN, the Assembly proclaims sovereign equality, while the Council denies it in practice: some States remain “more equal” than others. The UN Charter articulates its backbone in a few luminous rules: the prohibition of the use of force (Art. 2.4), non-intervention in internal affairs (Art. 2.7), and, as a counterbalance, the collective security system of Chapter VII (Arts. 39–42), which grants the Security Council the authority to determine threats to peace and authorize coercive measures. In parallel, Art. 51 preserves the right of self-defense against an “armed attack.” [5] This normative triangle — prohibition, collective security, defense — is the promise of a world governed by law and not by force, but it must be put into practice. In the 1990s, a dilemma arose: what to do when a State massacres its own population or is unable to prevent it? The political-legal response was the Responsibility to Protect (R2P), affirmed at the 2005 World Summit (paras. 138–139). [6] Its architecture is sequential: (I) each State has the primary responsibility to protect its population against genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing, and crimes against humanity; (II) the international community must help States fulfill that responsibility; and (III) if a State manifestly fails, the international community, through the Security Council, may adopt collective measures — preferably peaceful ones; as a last resort, coercive — case by case and in accordance with the Charter. Properly understood, R2P is not a license to intervene; it is a duty to protect framed within International Law. The historical record shows both its necessity and its perverse effects. Kosovo (1999) inaugurated, without authorization from the Council, the narrative of “humanitarian intervention,” based on a supposed “legitimate illegality.” [7] The precedent left a dangerous standard: humanitarian purposes invoked to circumvent the hard core of the Charter. Libya (2011) seemed to be the “ideal case” of R2P: the Council authorized “all necessary measures” to protect civilians. [8] However, the shift toward regime change eroded the trust of Russia and China, which since then have blocked robust resolutions on Syria, hollowing out the effectiveness of R2P. [9] The lesson is bitter: when protection is perceived as a vehicle of hegemony, the norm is delegitimized, and the veto becomes reflexive. Gaza and Myanmar display the other face of paralysis. In Gaza, the Council’s inability to impose sustainable ceasefires — despite patterns of hostilities that massively impact the civilian population — has shifted the debate to the General Assembly and the International Court of Justice through interstate actions and provisional measures. [10] In Myanmar, the genocide of the Rohingya mobilized condemnations, sanctions, and proceedings before the International Court of Justice (hereinafter, ICJ), [11] but did not trigger a coercive response from the Council. R2P exists on paper; its implementation is captive to the veto. Thus, the “right to have rights” that Arendt spoke of still depends on geopolitics. [12] History teaches that international law has always been strained by force. Rousseau warned that the strong seek to transform their power into law. [13] That is what the winners of 1945 did by crystallizing their hegemony in the Charter. And so, what Kant dreamed of as perpetual peace remains chained to an unequal order. [14] The UN, more than a republic of law, still seems a field of power. That fragility has opened space for alternatives. The BRICS, for example, have emerged as a heterogeneous bloc that combines the cohesion of historically homogeneous powers such as China and Russia with the diversity of India, Brazil, and South Africa. Paradoxically, their strength lies in articulating that heterogeneity against a common enemy: the concentration of power in the Security Council. [15] In a multipolar world, heterogeneity ceases to be a weakness and becomes a driver of plurality and resistance. The UN crisis is not only about security; it is also economic and distributive. The universalist promise of the Charter (Arts. 1.3 and 55–56, on cooperation for development) coexists with a global financial architecture whose heart beats outside the UN: the IMF and World Bank, designed in Bretton Woods, project a structural power — in Susan Strange’s terms — that conditions public policies, access to liquidity, and investment capacity. [16] The sovereign equality proclaimed in New York becomes blurred when the asymmetry of weighted voting in financial institutions (and the conditionality of credit) makes some States more “equal” than others. This is not a recent claim. Since the 1960s, the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development and, later, the Declaration on a New International Economic Order (1974), sought to correct structural problems such as the deterioration of terms of trade and the dependence between “center” and “periphery” countries, as Prebisch had pointed out. [17] However, the results were limited: ECOSOC lacks teeth, UNDP mobilizes cooperation but fails to change the rules of the system, and the 2030 Agenda sets important goals but without mandatory enforcement mechanisms. [18] The pandemic and the climate crisis have further worsened these inequalities, highlighting problems such as over-indebtedness, the insufficiency in the reallocation of Special Drawing Rights (SDRs), and climate financing that often arrives late and under unsuitable conditions. In this scenario, the New Development Bank of the BRICS emerges, seeking to open a path toward greater financial autonomy for developing countries. [19] International economic justice is the reverse side of collective security. Without fiscal space or technological transfer, the Global South remains trapped between development promises and adjustment demands. The UN has political legitimacy to outline a Global Economic Council (as proposed by the Stiglitz Commission in 2009) [20] to coordinate debt, international taxation, and global public goods, but it currently lacks normative muscle. The result is fragmentation: fiscal minilateralism, climate clubs, and value chains that distribute risks to the South and rents to the North. The solution does not lie simply in “more aid,” but in prudent rules such as: (I) a multilateral debt restructuring mechanism under UN auspices; [21] (II) effective international taxation on intangibles and the digital economy; [22] (III) binding compliance with the loss and damage fund in climate matters; [23] and (IV) a reform of quotas in IFIs that reflects the real weight of emerging economies. [24] Without constitutionalizing — even gradually — this economic agenda, sovereign equality will remain an empty liturgy and the discontent of the Global South a political fuel that erodes the UN from within. The truth is that the United Nations of 1945 no longer responds to the challenges of 2025. As the president of Brazil recently said: “The UN of 1945 is worth nothing in 2023.” [25] If States do not recover the founding spirit — placing collective interest above particular ones — the organization will remain prisoner of the veto and the will of a few. The question, then, is not whether the UN works, but whether States really want it to work. Taking the above into account, this essay will analyze the UN crisis from three complementary dimensions. First, the theoretical and philosophical framework that allows us to understand the tension between power and law will be addressed, showing how different authors highlight the structural roots of this contradiction. Second, historical episodes and current examples will be reviewed to illustrate the paralysis and democratic deficit of the organization. Finally, possible scenarios for the future will be projected, engaging in the exercise of evaluating the minimum reforms that could revitalize multilateralism in contrast to the alternative of critical global fragmentation. Considering all together, the argument is that the UN finds itself trapped between justice without power and power without justice, and that its survival depends on its ability to adapt to an international order radically different from that of 1945. I. The contradiction between power and law: Hans Morgenthau and political realism To understand the paralysis of the UN, it is useful to turn to Hans Morgenthau, a pioneer of realism in international relations. In his work “Politics Among Nations” (1948), he warned that the international order is always mediated by the balance of power and that legal norms only survive to the extent that they coincide with the interests of powerful States. [26] His idea is provocative: international law is not an autonomous order, but a language that powers use so long as it does not contradict their strategic objectives. Applied to the UN, this analysis is clear: the institution reflects less universal ethical commitment and more correlation of historical forces. The Security Council is not a neutral body, but the mirror of the hegemony of 1945, crystallized in Article 27 of the Charter, which enshrines the right of veto. The supposed universality of the UN is subordinated to a mechanism designed precisely to ensure that no action contrary to the superpowers could be imposed. Contemporary critiques confirm Morgenthau’s intuition. When Russia vetoes resolutions on Ukraine, [27] or the United States does the same regarding Gaza, [28] it becomes evident that international justice is suspended in the name of geopolitics. The legal is subordinated to the political. In this sense, the UN crisis is not an accident, but the logical consequence of its design, and what Morgenthau pointed out seventy years ago remains valid: as long as there is no coincidence between law and power, international norms will remain fragile. Political realism helps explain why the UN fails when it is most needed. States continue to act according to their national interests, even when this contradicts the international norms they themselves have subscribed to. The Security Council has become a space where powers project their strategies of influence, blocking collective actions whenever these affect their geopolitical priorities. The war in Ukraine, the invasion of Iraq in 2003, and the inaction in the face of the Rwandan genocide show that international law is applied selectively, reinforcing the idea that rules are valid only when they do not interfere with the power of the strongest. This pattern evidently erodes the legitimacy of the UN in the eyes of societies, because it generates the perception that the organization is incapable of representing the collective interest and, instead, merely reflects the correlation of forces of each historical moment. II. Carl Schmitt and the Myth of Universal Order Another voice that resonates is that of Carl Schmitt, who in “The Nomos of the Earth” (1950) argued that every international legal order arises from a founding political decision, that is, an act of power. [29] For Schmitt, there is no “universal law” that imposes itself; what is presented as universal is, in reality, the crystallization of a particular domain. The UN perfectly embodies this diagnosis. The founding discourse of San Francisco in 1945 spoke of “we the peoples of the United Nations,” [30] but in reality the Charter was written under the predominance of the winners of the Second World War. What was presented as a universal order of peace and security was, in fact, the codification of the Allied hegemony. Schmitt helps explain why the UN has never escaped that original logic. Although the General Assembly proclaims sovereign equality in Article 2 of the Charter, the structure of the Council reproduces the privilege of a few. [31] The international law of the UN appears, in Schmittian terms, as a “nomos” imposed by the winners, not as a true universal community. The consequence is a legitimate deficit that has persisted until today and explains much of the perception of ineffectiveness. The original structure of the UN perpetuates an unequal design that remains in force. The veto privilege is not only a defensive mechanism for the winners of the Second World War, but it has also functioned as a lock — one without keys — that prevents any real evolution of the system. Over eight decades, demands for reform have clashed with the resistance of those who benefit from keeping the rules intact. The contradiction is evident: developing States, which today represent the majority in the General Assembly, lack effective power in the most important decisions on international security. The gap between the universalist discourse of sovereign equality and the hierarchical practice of the Council undermines the credibility of the multilateral order. As long as this tension persists, the UN will hardly be able to become the space of global governance that the world requires more urgently than ever in the 21st century. III. Habermas and the Need for a Deliberative Community In contrast to this pessimism, Jürgen Habermas offers a different perspective. In “The Inclusion of the Other” (1996) and in later essays, he proposed moving toward a “constitutionalization of international law,” understood as the creation of a global normative space in which decisions are not based on force, but on rational deliberation. [32] From this perspective, the UN would be an imperfect embryo of a community of world citizens. The impact of this idea is enormous: it suggests that, beyond current deadlocks, the UN embodies the possibility of transforming power relations into processes of public deliberation. Article 1 of the Charter, which speaks of “maintaining international peace and security” and of “promoting friendly relations among nations,” can be read not only as a political mandate but also as a normative ideal of cosmopolitan coexistence. [33] Criticism of Habermas is evident: his proposal errs on the side of idealism in a world where national security interests remain paramount. However, his contribution is valuable because it allows us to think of the UN not only as a paralyzed body but also as a field of normative struggle. The problem is not only the strength of the vetoes but also the lack of will to transform that space into a true deliberative forum. [34] Thinking of the UN as a deliberative community requires recognizing that its current procedures do not guarantee authentic dialogue. Debate in the General Assembly is often reduced to formal statements, while crucial decisions, as everyone knows, are taken in restricted circles. The lack of effective mechanisms for the participation of non-state actors, such as regional organizations or civil society, further limits the inclusive character of the institution. Genuine deliberation should open spaces where multiple voices can influence decision-making processes, not only through speeches but by building binding consensus. However, the most powerful States fear losing control over the international agenda, which generates a vicious circle: an elitist governance system is maintained that protects privileges, but at the cost of sacrificing legitimacy and effectiveness. Thus, the promise of a deliberative order is reduced to a normative horizon that has not yet been realized. IV. Richard Falk and the Global Democratic Deficit A more recent contribution comes from Richard Falk, jurist and former UN rapporteur, who has insisted on the “democratic deficit” of the international order. In his view, the UN suffers from a structural contradiction: while the Charter proclaims the sovereignty of peoples, in practice it concentrates power in a small club of States. [35] This not only limits its effectiveness but also erodes its legitimacy in the eyes of the peoples of the world. The case of Palestine is emblematic. The General Assembly has repeatedly recognized the right of the Palestinian people to self-determination, but the veto in the Council blocks any effective measure. [36] Falk interprets this as evidence that the UN operates under a “democracy of States” but not under a “democracy of peoples.” The impact is devastating: millions of people perceive the organization not as a guarantor of rights, but as an accomplice to inequality. This leads us to a brief analysis of the International Criminal Court (ICC), born from the Rome Statute (1998), which promised a civilizational breakthrough: that the most serious crimes (“which affect the international community as a whole”) would not go unpunished. [37] Its design is cautious: complementarity (it acts only if the State is unwilling or unable), restricted jurisdiction (genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes, and — with limits — aggression), and jurisdiction based on territory, nationality, or referral by the Security Council. The two major milestones of the Council — referrals of Darfur (2005) and Libya (2011) —demonstrated both the potential and the limits. There were procedural advances and arrest warrants, but also contested operative clauses and very little cooperation for arrests. [38] The implicit message to the Global South was ambiguous: justice is universal, but its activation depends on the map of alliances in the Council. At the same time, key powers are not parties to the Statute (United States, China, Russia) and yet influence when the Court acts. The result fuels the argument of “winners’ justice” that several African foreign ministries have raised. The Court has tried to rebalance its map: investigations in Afghanistan, Palestine, and Ukraine, as well as arrest warrants against high-ranking authorities in cases of aggression or serious international crimes, have partly disproved the idea of a one-sided persecution. But the Achilles’ heel persists: without State cooperation, there are no executions of warrants; without the Council, there is no activation in key contexts; with the Council, there is a veto. In addition, Article 16 of the Statute allows the Council to suspend investigations for 12 renewable months, a political valve that subordinates the judicial to the geopolitical. [39] Integrating Falk’s critique into this essay makes it possible to highlight that the UN crisis is not only institutional but also democratic. Article 1.2 of the Charter proclaims respect for the principle of equal rights and the self-determination of peoples, but this ideal becomes empty when the veto power systematically contradicts it. [40] The democratic deficit of the UN is not limited to the Security Council but runs through the entirety of its institutional architecture. Developing countries have little influence on global economic governance, despite being the most affected by decisions on debt, trade, or climate financing. Unequal representation in bodies such as the IMF and the World Bank, together with dependence on international cooperation, reproduces relations of subordination that contradict the principles of equality and self-determination. Moreover, world citizenship lacks a real channel of influence: peoples see their demands diluted in state structures that do not always — or almost never — reflect their needs. This divorce between peoples and States turns the UN into an incomplete democracy, where the most vulnerable collective subjects fail to make their voices heard. Overcoming this limitation is essential to restoring the legitimacy of multilateralism. V. Susan Strange and the Geopolitics of the Economy Finally, Susan Strange adds another dimension: the economic one. In “The Retreat of the State” (1996), she argued that power in the contemporary world does not reside only in States, but also in transnational forces — financial markets, corporations, technologies — that escape institutional control. [41] The UN, designed in 1945 under the logic of sovereign States, lacks instruments to govern this new scenario. The impact is evident. While the Security Council is paralyzed in debates over traditional wars, global crises such as climate change, pandemics, or the regulation of artificial intelligence show that real power has shifted toward non-state actors. [42] Strange warns that if international institutions do not adapt to this reality, they risk becoming irrelevant. In this sense, the UN faces not only a problem of veto or representativeness, but also a historical mismatch: it was designed for a world of States and conventional wars, but today we live in a world of transnational interdependencies. The Charter, in its Article 2.7, continues to emphasize non-interference in the internal affairs of States, but this clause seems insufficient to govern global threats that transcend borders. [43] And it is vitally important to note that the global threats of the 21st century do not fit the traditional paradigm of interstate wars that has been preconceived. Challenges such as climate change, pandemics, and technological revolutions pose risks that no State can face alone. However, the UN lacks effective mechanisms to coordinate global responses in these areas. The fragmentation of climate governance, competition for vaccines during the pandemic, and the absence of clear rules to regulate large digital corporations illustrate the magnitude of the challenge. In this context, state sovereignty proves insufficient, and the principle of non-interference becomes obsolete. If the UN does not develop innovative instruments that integrate transnational actors and strengthen multilateral cooperation, it risks becoming a merely declarative forum, incapable of offering concrete solutions to the problems that most affect contemporary humanity — and it is important that these critiques be heard before it is too late. VI. Current Scenarios All the above opens up a momentous dilemma of our time: either we reform multilateralism so that law contains “force,” or we normalize “exception” forever. [44]Scenario A: A minimal but sufficient cosmopolitan reform. A critical group of States —supported by civil society and epistemic communities — agrees to self-limit the veto in situations of mass atrocities (ACT-type codes of conduct), promotes the expansion of the Council with some permanent presence of the Global South (India, Brazil, Germany, Japan, and one African seat, probably South Africa), and strengthens “Uniting for Peace” mechanisms to circumvent blockages. [45] The ICJ gains centrality with advisory opinions politically bound by prior compliance commitments, the ICC ensures interstate cooperation through regional agreements, and the UN creates a rapid civil deployment capacity for the protection of civilians, minimal cybersecurity, and climate response. [46] In the economic sphere, a Global Economic Council emerges within the orbit of the UN to coordinate debt, climate, and international taxation with common standards. [47] Scenario B: Ordered fragmentation of anarchy. Blockages become chronic. Security shifts to ad hoc coalitions and minilateralisms (NATO Plus, QUAD, expanded BRICS), economic governance is decided in restricted membership forums, and the UN remains a symbolic forum without decision-making capacity. [48] Exception becomes the rule: “preventive interventions,” widespread unilateral sanctions, proliferation of private military companies, opaque cyber-operations, and a data ecology controlled by a few platforms. [49] International law endures as a language, but its social force dissipates; incentives push toward strategic autonomy and legal security by blocs. In other words, the future of the UN will depend on its ability to balance justice and force in an international environment marked by multipolarity. I insist that one possible path is to advance toward gradual reforms that strengthen transparency, broaden the representativeness of the Council, and grant greater autonomy to the General Assembly and judicial bodies. Another, far more radical, is the consolidation of parallel mechanisms that de facto replace the role of the UN through regional alliances, ad hoc coalitions, and alternative economic forums. Both paths involve risks: reform may stagnate in the lowest common denominator, while fragmentation may deepen inequalities and conflicts. However, what seems clear is that maintaining the status quo will only prolong paralysis and further weaken the legitimacy of the multilateral system. The choice between reform or irrelevance will, ultimately, be the decisive dilemma of the 21st century. I believe that three milestones will indicate where we are headed: (1) effective adoption of commitments to abstain from vetoes in the face of mass atrocities; (2) funded and operational implementation of the climate loss and damage mechanism; (3) cooperation with the ICC in politically sensitive cases, without ad hoc exceptions. [50] VII. Conclusion: Between Disillusionment and Hope The UN marks eighty years caught in Pascal’s dilemma: “force without justice is tyranny, justice without force is mockery.” [51] The diagnosis is clear: the Security Council has turned justice into a mockery, while the great powers have exercised force without legitimacy. [52] The result is a weakened organization, incapable of responding to the most urgent tragedies of our time. However, it would be a mistake to fall into absolute cynicism. Despite its evident limitations and alongside all that has been mentioned, the UN remains the only forum where 193 States engage in dialogue, the only space where there exists even a minimal notion of common international law. [53] Its crisis should not lead us to abandon it, but rather to radically rethink it. Perhaps the path lies in what Habermas calls a “constitutionalization of international law,” as previously proposed, or in a profound reform of the Security Council that democratizes the use of force. [54] History teaches that institutions survive if they manage to adapt. [55] If the UN does not, it will be relegated to the status of a giant that humanity needs but that is paralyzed, a symbol of a past that no longer responds to the challenges of the present. [56] But if States recover something of the founding spirit of 1945, perhaps it can still save us from hell, even if it never takes us to heaven. [57] VIII. References [1] Dag Hammarskjöld. Hammarskjöld. Citado en Brian Urquhart. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1972.[2] John Rawls. The Law of Peoples. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999.[3] Permanent Mission of Canada to the United Nations. Statement on the Veto. UN General Assembly, 26 April 2022.[4] Aristóteles. Política. Traducido por Antonio Gómez Robledo. México: UNAM, 2000.[5] Naciones Unidas. Carta de las Naciones Unidas. San Francisco: Naciones Unidas, 26 de junio de 1945.[6] Naciones Unidas. World Summit Outcome Document. A/RES/60/1, 24 October 2005.[7] Jean-Jacques Rousseau. The Social Contract. New York: Penguin, 1968.[8] Immanuel Kant. Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Sketch. 1795; repr., Indianapolis: Hackett, 2003.[9] Oliver Stuenkel. The BRICS and the Future of Global Order. Lanham: Lexington Books, 2015.[10] Susan Strange. States and Markets. London: Pinter, 1988. 11. Hedley Bull. The Anarchical Society: A Study of Order in World Politics. New York: Columbia University Press, 1977.[12] Kenneth Waltz. Theory of International Politics. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley, 1979.[13] Martha Finnemore. National Interests in International Society. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996.[14] Alexander Wendt. Social Theory of International Politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999.[15] Francis Fukuyama. The End of History and the Last Man. New York: Free Press, 1992.[16] Samuel Huntington. The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996.[17] Joseph Nye. Soft Power: The Means to Success in World Politics. New York: Public Affairs, 2004.[18] Joseph Nye. The Future of Power. New York: Public Affairs, 2011.[19] Robert Keohane y Joseph Nye. Power and Interdependence. Boston: Little, Brown, 1977.[20] Robert Keohane. After Hegemony: Cooperation and Discord in the World Political Economy. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984.[21] Stephen Krasner. Structural Conflict: The Third World Against Global Liberalism. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985.[22] Robert Cox. “Social Forces, States and World Orders: Beyond International Relations Theory.” Millennium: Journal of International Studies 10, no. 2 (1981): 126–55.[23] Robert Cox. Production, Power, and World Order: Social Forces in the Making of History. New York: Columbia University Press, 1987.[24] Charles Kindleberger. The World in Depression, 1929–1939. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973.[25] John Ikenberry. After Victory: Institutions, Strategic Restraint, and the Rebuilding of Order after Major Wars. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001.[26] John Ikenberry. Liberal Leviathan: The Origins, Crisis, and Transformation of the American World Order. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011.[27] Paul Kennedy. The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers. New York: Random House, 1987.[28] Michael Doyle. Ways of War and Peace: Realism, Liberalism, and Socialism. New York: W. W. Norton, 1997.[29] Charles Beitz. Political Theory and International Relations. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979.[30] Andrew Moravcsik. “Taking Preferences Seriously: A Liberal Theory of International Politics.” International Organization 51, no. 4 (1997): 513–53[31] Peter Katzenstein, ed. The Culture of National Security: Norms and Identity in World Politics. New York: Columbia University Press, 1996.[32] Friedrich Kratochwil. Rules, Norms, and Decisions: On the Conditions of Practical and Legal Reasoning in International Relations and Domestic Affairs. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989.[33] Nicholas Onuf. World of Our Making: Rules and Rule in Social Theory and International Relations. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1989.[34] Christian Reus-Smit. The Moral Purpose of the State: Culture, Social Identity, and Institutional Rationality in International Relations. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999.[35] Martha Finnemore y Kathryn Sikkink. “International Norm Dynamics and Political Change.” International Organization 52, no. 4 (1998): 887–917.[36] Michael Barnett y Martha Finnemore. Rules for the World: International Organizations in Global Politics. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2004.[37] Ian Hurd. After Anarchy: Legitimacy and Power in the United Nations Security Council. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007.[38] Allen Buchanan y Robert Keohane. “The Legitimacy of Global Governance Institutions.” Ethics & International Affairs 20, no. 4 (2006): 405–37.[39] Thomas Franck. The Power of Legitimacy among Nations. New York: Oxford University Press, 1990.[40] David Held. Democracy and the Global Order: From the Modern State to Cosmopolitan Governance. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1995.[41] Ian Hurd. After Anarchy: Legitimacy and Power in the United Nations Security Council. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007.[42] Permanent Mission of Canada to the United Nations. Statement on the Veto. UN General Assembly, 26 April 2022.[43] Oliver Stuenkel. The BRICS and the Future of Global Order. Lanham: Lexington Books, 2015.[44] Naciones Unidas. World Summit Outcome Document. A/RES/60/1, 24 October 2005.[45] Corte Internacional de Justicia. Advisory Opinions. La Haya: CIJ, varios años.[46] Naciones Unidas. Report of the High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change. A/59/565, 2 December 2004.[47] Samuel Huntington. The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996.[48] Robert Keohane. After Hegemony: Cooperation and Discord in the World Political Economy. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984.[49] Thomas Franck. The Power of Legitimacy among Nations. New York: Oxford University Press, 1990.[50] Joseph Nye. The Future of Power. New York: Public Affairs, 2011.[51] Blaise Pascal. Pensées. París: Éditions Garnier, 1976.[52] Brian Urquhart. Hammarskjöld. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1972.[53] Naciones Unidas. Charter of the United Nations. San Francisco: Naciones Unidas, 1945.[54] Jürgen Habermas. The Postnational Constellation: Political Essays. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2001.[55] John Ikenberry. Liberal Leviathan: The Origins, Crisis, and Transformation of the American World Order. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011.[56] Paul Kennedy. The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers. New York: Random House, 1987.[57] David Held. Democracy and the Global Order: From the Modern State to Cosmopolitan Governance. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1995.

Defense & Security
Mersin Turkey - 23.06.2021: Yavuz Drillship on the mediterranean sea. Drillships of Turkey which is search and drill for natural gas and oils.

Mavi Vatan: The turkish strategy for Resources in the Eastern Mediterranean Sea

by Jessica Martínez Pluma

In February 2019, the Turkish Naval Force carried out a large-scale military exercise in the Aegean Sea, the Black Sea, and the Eastern Mediterranean Sea to test the operation of the new weapons and naval systems acquired by the country over the last decade. At first, this event did not generate adverse reactions from the international community, but six months later alarm bells rang when, during a speech by President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan at Turkey’s National Defense University, a map was publicly displayed showing what the Republic of Turkey considered to be its sovereign maritime domains. This later became associated with a concept known as Mavi Vatan. Proposed by Admiral Cihat Yaycı and developed by Admiral Cem Gürdeniz, Mavi Vatan or the Blue Homeland Doctrine is a project and geostrategic representation of Turkey with the intention of claiming the state’s supposed jurisdiction over parts of the Eastern Mediterranean and the Aegean Sea. It demonstrates Turkey’s dissatisfaction with the limits established by international law—the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (1982)—and upholds its right to the legitimate defense of sovereignty over what it asserts are its maritime domains: 462,000 km² comprising its territorial waters, its Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), and its continental shelf (Denizeau, A., 2021).  Figure 1: Map of ‘Mavi Vatan’ or the Blue Homeland Doctrine publicly displayed during President Erdoğan’s speech at Turkey’s National Defense University (August 2019). Source: Wikimedia Commons ‘Mavi Vatan’ not only represents a historical claim regarding the events of 2004, when the Republic of Cyprus became an official member of the European Union and established its own maritime borders as a state, which, under the framework of international law, pushed the Republic of Turkey into a narrow strip of sea in which to operate. At the same time, Mavi Vatan emerged as a solution to the growing security challenges that have arisen in the last decade of the 21st century, challenges that have threatened not only the integrity of the state itself but also all those elements that guarantee its survival in the international arena; in this case, Turkey’s access to energy resources. With projections that the Republic of Turkey will reach 90 million inhabitants by 2030 (Martín, L; n.d.), the Turkish state is aware of the increasing energy demands needed to adequately meet the needs of a rapidly growing population. To satisfy that demand, it is compelled to seek optimal sources of income to achieve this purpose. In response—and knowing of the large hydrocarbon reserves discovered in the Eastern Mediterranean Sea in recent years (Zeballos Rivero, M., 2024)—Turkey has turned to Mavi Vatan as a solution. If successfully implemented, it would allow Turkey to establish an area for the exploration and exploitation of resources lying beneath these waters to cover its urgent energy needs. The problem? Turkey is not the only interested party. Countries such as Israel, Lebanon, and Egypt, sharing coastlines with the Eastern Mediterranean Sea, are also engaged in heated disputes over legitimate access to these energy resources. However, the most pressing rivalry remains between Turkey and Cyprus, who, having relatively greater capacities to extract energy resources, have been at the forefront of an active dispute to claim sovereignty over these hydrocarbons.  Figure 2: Map of the EEZs of the Eastern Mediterranean countries and also of Mavi Vatan. Source: Emmanouilidis, C. (2020, August 31). Tensions in the Eastern Mediterranean. European Data Journalist Network. https://www.europeandatajournalism.eu/es/cp_data_news/tensiones-en-el-mediterraneo-oriental/ On the one hand, there is the Cyprus–Egypt–European Union alliance, which has agreed upon and mutually recognized the maritime boundaries corresponding to each of them in the Eastern Mediterranean Sea, while clearly omitting the possible sovereignty claims of other countries in the disputed area (s.autor, 2024). On the other hand, there are Turkey’s individual efforts, which, in its quest to gain access to hydrocarbon resources in the sea in question, signed a Memorandum of Understanding in November 2019 with Libya’s Government of National Accord (GNA) to establish an EEZ stretching from Turkey’s southern coast to the northwestern area of the North African country. This agreement granted the Turks rights to hydrocarbon exploration and exploitation in the zone (s.autor, 2024). Although the agreement was suspended in 2021, Turkey has continued to promote ongoing exploration expeditions in the region, which have even extended to Somali waters, with whom it already has agreements in this field. The firm actions taken by states in the region demonstrate that, beyond being an ambition for access to energy resources in the Eastern Mediterranean, the dispute actually represents an active risk to stability and security in the region. Firstly, from the energy dimension: given the importance of energy resources for human development, the continuation of hostilities among the involved states prevents the establishment of cooperative mechanisms that would allow all parties to benefit from the issue. Instead, it risks generating a zero-sum game in which only the strongest state would emerge victorious while the others remain vulnerable to an imminent energy crisis, thereby putting thousands of human lives at risk. Secondly, from the military dimension, there is the latent possibility that an armed conflict could erupt at any moment in the Eastern Mediterranean over immediate access to the contested resources. Without underestimating the military capabilities of the other countries involved, it is important to highlight the case of Turkey, which in recent years has significantly expanded its military capacities as part of the reformulation of its Foreign Policy. This has allowed Turkey to position itself as the ninth-strongest military power in the world (Global Fire Power, 2025) and the second-largest army within the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). On the opposite side lies Cyprus, which, although it does not possess the same military capabilities as the Republic of Turkey, does benefit from the direct support of the European Union, which, if necessary, could easily respond to potential acts of aggression in a military conflict in the region. Both sides of the dispute—Turkey and the European Union along with Cyprus—truly have sufficient resources to escalate the conflict if they so desire, but they have not done so for reasons that remain unclear. For now, the situation remains uncertain. Beyond warnings or complaints from some states and/or international organizations, there has been no decisive action to put an immediate end to the conflict, since, in reality, no large-scale crisis has yet warranted such a response. However, it is important not to underestimate the phenomenon: the fact that it has not yet generated a major impact does not mean it could not do so one day, especially considering the great capacities the involved states have both to act and to respond to possible aggression. Historically, disputes over energy resources have generated unprecedented wars that have cost thousands of lives—for example, the Gulf War in 1991. It is therefore necessary to continue monitoring such situations to prevent them from escalating into conflicts as violent as those of the past. Thus, diplomatic channels between all parties to the conflict must be pursued, with the aim of generating cooperative solutions that foster peace and prosperity among nations, rather than new problems. ReferencesDenizeau, A. (abril, 2021) “Mavi Vatan, the ‘Blue Homeland’: The Origins, Influences and Limits of an Ambitious Doctrine for Turkey”, Études de l’Ifri, Ifri.E. (2019, 30 diciembre) La lucha por los recursos en el Mediterráneo Oriental. Anadolu Ajansi. https://www.aa.com.tr/es/mundo/la-lucha-por-los-recursos-en-el-mediterr%C3%A1neo-oriental-/1685950Global Fire Power (2025). 2025 Military Strength Ranking. https://www.globalfirepower.com/countries-listing.phpJager, J.; Norris, A. (2021, 27 septiembre). The Mavi Vatan Doctrine and Blue Homeland Anthem: A Look At Turkey’s Maritime Worldview. Center for International Maritime Security. https://cimsec.org/the-mavi-vatan-doctrine-and-blue-homeland-anthem-a-look-at-turkeys-maritime-worldview/Kaya Ulger, I. (2020, 14 octubre) Turquía continúa defendiendo su “patria azul”. Anadolu Ajansi. https://www.aa.com.tr/es/mundo/turqu%C3%ADa-contin%C3%BAa-defendiendo-su-patria-azul-/2005458Mason, S. (2020, 20 septiembre). Blue Homeland: The Heated Politics Behind Turkey’s New Maritime Strategy - War on the Rocks. War On The Rocks. https://warontherocks.com/2020/06/blue-homeland-the-heated-politics-behind-turkeys-new-maritime-strategy/Martín, L. (s. f.).   ‘Mavi Vatam’: la doctrina turca de la ‘patria azul‘. Global Affairs and Strategic Studies. https://www.unav.edu/web/global-affairs/detalle/-/blogs/-mavi-vatam-la-doctrina-turca-de-la-patria-azul-3Menjón, D. M. (2021, 7 octubre). Dossier Geopolítico Especial: Teoría de la “Patria Azul”. Turquía se proyecta sobre el mar (de la energía). Hermes Kalamos. https://www.hermes-kalamos.eu/dossier-geopolitico-especial-teoria-de-la-patria-azul-turquia-se-proyecta-sobre-el-mar-de-la-energia/S. a. (2024, 10 abril) Cihat Yayci: Libia es un socio estratégico y un aliado para proteger y promover la seguridad de Turquía. OtraLecturA https://otralectura.com/2024/03/15/cihat-yayci-libia-es-un-socio-estrategico-y-un-aliado-para-proteger-y-promover-la-seguridad-de-turquia/S.a. (s. f.). Mavi Vatan-2019 Tatbikatının Ardından Enerji-Politik Ağırlıklı Bir Değerlendirme. Euronewsport İş dünyasından haberler. https://euronewsport.com/mavi-vatan-2019-tatbikatinin-ardindan-enerji-politik-agirlikli-bir-degerlendirme/Zeballos Rivero, M. (2023, 22 marzo). Creciente tensión entre Turquía y Grecia por reservas de gas en el Mediterráneo. Global Affairs And Strategic Studies. https://www.unav.edu/web/global-affairs/creciente-tension-entre-turquia-y-grecia-por-reservas-de-gas-en-el-mediterraneo 

Defense & Security
K2 Black Panther - South Korean basic tank. Hyundai Rotem concern has offered the Polish army a K2 model adapted to its needs along with full technology transfer

The Development of South Korea’s Tanks and the Global Competitiveness of the K2 Black Panther

by World and New World Journal

1. Introduction Since the Korean War, South Korea had long relied on U.S.-made tanks, but in the 1970s it launched a full-scale domestic tank development program under the principle of self-reliant national defense. As a result, beginning with the K1 tank, the country gradually increased its localization rate, and today it has fielded the highly advanced K2 Black Panther, placing itself among the world’s leading tank powers. However, when compared to major tanks competing in the global defense market, a comprehensive analysis is still required not only in terms of performance, but also in cost-effectiveness and export competitiveness. This study examines the evolution and localization of South Korea’s tanks, and analyzes the performance of the K2 in comparison with other global competitors to highlight its export potential and strategic significance. 2. Early Background: The Korean War – Early 1970s During the Korean War 1950-1953, North Korean forces launched their invasion spearheaded by the Soviet Union’s best-selling tank, the T-34. In contrast, South Korea did not possess a single tank at the time. The power of the T-34 allowed the North Korean army to advance rapidly in the early stages of the war. However, the arrival of U.S. ground forces changed the situation. The M24 Chaffee light tank was the first to be deployed, followed by the M4 Sherman medium tank, the M26 Pershing heavy/medium tank, and the M46 Patton medium tank, all of which overwhelmed the North Korean forces. Thanks to this reinforcement, the Nakdong River defensive line was held, and the tide of the war shifted in favor of the UN forces. Additionally, by late 1950, the British Army had committed its renowned A41 Centurion tanks to the conflict. After the war, in 1959, South Korea received the M47 Patton tank from the United States as part of its allied support policy and broader equipment modernization program. After the war, South Korea relied on U.S. assistance until 1970 to accumulate experience in operating and maintaining tanks. In particular, in 1966, when the M48 Patton tanks were provided by the United States, South Korea also received a Technical Data Package (TDP), which included key technology transfers alongside major upgrades. Through this, South Korea acquired comprehensive expertise in armor casting and welding, production processes, precision manufacturing and assembly, as well as quality inspection and testing. This foundation became a crucial stepping stone for the subsequent development of the Korean tank industry. 3. Development of the K1 Indigenous Tank: 1970s–1980s Under President Park Chung-hee’s policy of self-reliant national defense, South Korea launched the Republic of Korea Indigenous Tank (ROKIT) program in 1975 in cooperation with the United States. Following the signing of a memorandum of understanding in 1978, full-scale development began. The design direction was set to base the new tank on the form and performance of the U.S. Army’s latest third-generation tank at the time, the M1 Abrams. Chrysler Defense (now GDLS), the manufacturer of the M1, participated in the project, while South Korea’s Agency for Defense Development and Hyundai Precision (now Hyundai Rotem) worked together to create a smaller, terrain-optimized “Little Abrams” for the Korean Peninsula. In April 1984, two prototypes were produced, and after passing a series of tests, mass production began in 1985. The production K1 tank was armed with a 105 mm rifled gun and equipped with a 1,200 horsepower German MTU-series diesel engine, built with General Dynamics technology. A key feature was the adoption of a hydropneumatic suspension system, allowing adjustable ground clearance suited for Korea’s mountainous terrain. The tank weighed 51.5 tons, carried a crew of four, and a total of 1,026 units were produced between 1985 and 1997. During its service, the upgraded K1A1 variant was developed, featuring a 120 mm smoothbore gun, improved fire-control systems, and enhanced armor protection. A total of 484 K1A1s were produced between 1996 and 2008. Subsequent modernized versions, the K1E1 and K1E2, have ensured that the K1 series continues to serve as a core component of the South Korean Army’s armored forces. 4. The K2 Black Panther: 2000s – Present Beginning in 1996, the Republic of Korea Armed Forces acquired 68 T-80U tanks from Russia as repayment for an economic cooperation loan. At the time, the T-80U was Russia’s latest main battle tank, and for South Korean engineers, who had previously only worked with U.S.-made tanks, it provided a valuable opportunity to gain direct experience with a new model. The lessons learned from operating the T-80U contributed significantly to the later development of the K2 tank. After the Ministry of National Defense announced its next-generation tank program in 1992, a system concept study was carried out in 1995, followed by exploratory development in 1998. In 2003, full-scale system development began. By 2007, three prototypes were unveiled for operational testing and evaluation, and mass production was initially scheduled to begin in 2012. However, issues arose during the development of the domestic powerpack (engine and transmission). These included an engine protection temperature setting error, which failed to safeguard the engine from overheating, and insufficient cooling fan speed in the transmission at maximum output, which led to inadequate cooling. Despite multiple redesigns, persistent problems in performance and reliability testing delayed deployment. As a result, the first production batch of 100 K2 tanks was equipped with Germany’s MTU engines and RENK transmissions instead of the domestic powerpack. These vehicles began delivery to the ROK Army in April 2014. By September 2014, the domestic engine had passed the Defense Acquisition Program Administration’s evaluation, and the second batch of 106 tanks and the third batch of 54 tanks were produced with a “hybrid powerpack”—a Korean-made engine combined with a German transmission. Starting with the fourth production batch, SNT Dynamics’ domestic transmission was successfully integrated, completing full localization of the K2 powerpack. Unlike its predecessor, the K1, which had been developed under the leadership of General Dynamics and relied heavily on U.S. components, the K2 Black Panther is a fully indigenous South Korean tank. With domestically developed engines and transmissions, it achieved a high localization rate, giving South Korea independence from U.S. and German export restrictions and allowing greater freedom in operating and exporting its tanks. As South Korea’s most advanced tank, the K2 incorporates cutting-edge technologies that set it apart from its predecessors. These include a 120 mm smoothbore gun, an active protection system (APS), an autoloader, and stealth features, delivering superior mobility, protection, and firepower. Today, it stands as a core asset of the South Korean Army. Specifications (K2 Black Panther):Crew: 3Weight: 55 tonsEngine: Doosan Infracore DV-27K diesel engineTransmission: SNT Dynamics EST15K automatic transmissionMain Gun: Hyundai WIA 120 mm smoothbore CN08Fire Control System: South Korean domestic technologyArmor: Korean-developed composite armor  5. Timeline of South Korea’s Tank Development: From U.S. Aid to the K2 The introduction and development of tanks in the ROK Army have been organized in a chronological timeline with images. This timeline is designed to provide a clear overview of the entire progression — from U.S. aid tanks, to tanks acquired from Russia, and finally to the development of indigenous Korean tanks.   6. K2 vs. Regional Main Battle Tanks — Performance Comparison Tank performance can be compared across four key categories: Mobility, Firepower, Protection, and Sensors & C4I. MobilityComponents: engine & transmission (powerpack), suspension, roadwheels, sprockets, tracks, and fuel systems.Role: determines speed, acceleration, cross-country mobility, and operational range. Maintainability (ease of maintenance and access) is also included here. FirepowerComponents: main armament (gun) — barrel and mantlet, stabilization system, autoloading/manual loading systems, coaxial and anti-aircraft machine guns, ammunition stowage.Role: defines ability to defeat enemy armor and other targets, hit probability (integrated with the fire-control system), and ammunition variety (e.g., APFSDS, HE).ProtectionComponents: baseline composite/steel armor, explosive reactive armor (ERA), active protection systems (APS), smoke generation, fire suppression and NBC protection, and crew survivability compartments.Role: protects crew and systems from penetration, fragmentation, anti-tank weapons, and environmental threats.Sensors & C4I (Command, Control, Communications, Computers, and Intelligence)Components: fire-control system (FCS), thermal and night sights, laser rangefinder, communications suites, electronic warfare and laser warning receivers, and power-management systems.Role: responsible for target acquisition, firing accuracy, and networked combat — i.e., information sharing with friendly forces.Below is a comparison of the K2 and the region’s current main battle tanks.    The K2 Black Panther is regarded as a world-class main battle tank, demonstrating well-balanced excellence in mobility, firepower, protection, and electronic systems compared to neighboring countries’ tanks. 7. South Korea’s Tank Export Outlook and Key CasesWhile exports of the K1 tank were restricted due to U.S. technology regulations, the K2 tank—developed with fully indigenous Korean technology—became eligible for overseas sales. In 2022, South Korea successfully signed a contract with Poland, and negotiations are currently underway with countries in Europe, the Middle East, and Africa, signaling the expansion of Korean tanks into the global defense market. 7.1. Turkish Joint Development of the Altay Tank Based on the K2 (USD 540 million)In 2007, South Korea signed a design support and technology transfer contract with Turkey for the development of the Altay main battle tank. Under this agreement, South Korea transferred several core technologies derived from the K2 tank, including:- 120 mm CN08 smoothbore gun technology (Korean-produced main gun)Advanced armor and composite equipment design consultation and production support- Powerpack (engine + transmission) technology transfer and testing: the Altay successfully completed durability trials with the HD Hyundai Infracore engine and SNT Dynamics transmission The Altay is scheduled to enter full-scale mass production in 2025, with an initial production run of 250 units and a long-term goal of building up to 1,000 tanks. 7.2. K2 Export to Poland: First Batch of 180 Units (USD 3.4 billion), Second Batch of 180 Units (USD 6.5 billion) In 2022, the K2 tank was selected by Poland over strong competitors such as Germany’s Leopard 2A7 and the U.S. M1A2 Abrams. The key factors behind this successful export were as follows: - Rapid delivery and phased supply: South Korea demonstrated its ability to deliver tanks within a very short timeframe. Following the 2022 contract, the first batch of 10 units was delivered within the same year. By contrast, competitors faced production line bottlenecks, raising concerns over delivery delays. - Modern design with European upgrade potential: The K2 features a 120 mm 55-caliber smoothbore gun, an autoloader, an active protection system (APS), and hydropneumatic suspension—technologies equal to or in some cases more advanced than those found in Europe’s latest MBTs. Moreover, South Korea promised to develop a localized version, the K2PL, through joint development with Poland, tailored to Polish requirements. - Local production and technology transfer: South Korea offered local production of the K2PL, guaranteeing the participation of Polish defense industries, along with technology transfer, industrial cooperation, and the prospect of using Poland as a base for future exports. - Cost competitiveness: Despite being a state-of-the-art tank, the K2 is relatively more affordable than the M1A2 or Leopard 2A7. Maintenance and sustainment costs are also projected to be lower than those of European tanks, giving the K2 a strong reputation as a “cost-effective MBT” with excellent value for performance. - Tactical versatility and advanced systems: Equipped with an autoloader, hydropneumatic suspension, and advanced smart fire-control systems, the K2 offers outstanding adaptability across diverse operational environments, including mountainous terrain, urban warfare, and extreme cold.Through this deal, South Korea and Poland established a relationship that goes beyond a simple arms sale, building long-term defense industry partnership and mutual trust. Potential export destinations for the K2 include the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Romania, Saudi Arabia, Oman, Egypt, Morocco, and India. 8. Comparison of Tanks from Export Competitor Nations South Korea’s K2 tank has attracted global attention for its outstanding performance, but the international tank market is already dominated by several major players.This chapter analyzes and compares the leading tanks that compete with the K2, while also examining each country’s export competitiveness.   The K2 Black Panther, while incorporating cutting-edge technologies, is lighter than many Western main battle tanks, resulting in relatively lower sustainment costs. It is therefore widely regarded as a cost-effective, well-balanced tank. The cost of a tank varies greatly depending on its design and configuration, but if we break down the production cost (manufacturing, components, and assembly) into four categories, the estimated shares are as follows:- Protection: 30–40%- Firepower: 20–30%- Mobility: 15–25%- Electronics & C4I: 15–25% The actual share, however, depends on specific factors. For example, the use of advanced armor materials (composite/uranium) or the inclusion of an Active Protection System (APS) significantly increases protection costs. Similarly, specialized gun and ammunition systems (such as a 120mm smoothbore, autoloader, or advanced munitions) raise firepower costs. Integration, testing, and safety features greatly affect electronics costs, while options like autoloaders, high-performance thermal sights, and networked systems can heavily influence the final balance. Other important factor is Lifecycle Perspective (Unit Cost vs. Total Life-Cycle Cost), which can be defined as below.- Procurement: About 20–30% of total life-cycle cost (highly variable)- Operations & Support (O&S): 60–70% — dominated by fuel, maintenance, spare parts, and maintenance personnel costs- Upgrades & Depreciation: 10–20% In other words, the long-term operation and maintenance costs take up a much larger share than the initial procurement cost of a tank.Below is a comparison table of modern main battle tank costs: unit acquisition cost, annual sustainment cost, and 30-year life-cycle cost (procurement + sustainment).*The sustainment cost for China’s Type 99A and Russia’s T-90M is an estimate.   9. Conclusion This study has systematically examined the evolution and localization of South Korea’s tanks, and verified the level of their advancement through performance comparisons with leading global competitors. In particular, the K2 has demonstrated balanced capabilities in mobility, firepower, protection, and electronic command-and-control, supported by advanced technologies and a high degree of localization. At the same time, it offers superior cost-efficiency in sustainment and operational expenses compared to heavier Western MBTs. This makes the K2 not only a key asset for strengthening domestic defense, but also a competitive and cost-effective platform in the global arms market. Taken together, these findings suggest that South Korea’s tanks have progressed beyond being a mere symbol of self-reliant defense, and are now positioned to expand exports and build long-term strategic partnerships worldwide.