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Defense & Security
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European Union Strategic Autonomy. Necessary but potentially problematic?

by Krzysztof Śliwiński

Abstract This paper examines the evolving concept of European Union Strategic Autonomy (EU-SA) within the context of contemporary geopolitical challenges, with a particular focus on EU-Russia and EU-China relations. EU-SA reflects the EU's aspiration to act independently in foreign policy, security, defence, and economic affairs, moving from a rule-taker to a rule-maker in global politics. The study outlines the historical development of EU-SA from 2013 to the present, highlighting key milestones such as the Strategic Compass and the impact of the Ukraine War, which accelerated efforts toward defence collaboration, energy independence, and economic resilience. It explores the transatlantic dynamics, noting growing uncertainties in the U.S. commitment to NATO and the resulting push for a more autonomous European defence posture. Additionally, it addresses the complex EU-China relationship, marked by both cooperation and competition, as well as the strained EU-Russia ties amid ongoing conflict. The paper concludes by questioning the economic feasibility and political risks of deeper EU strategic autonomy, especially regarding security centralisation and Germany's leadership role. Key Words: EU, Strategic Autonomy, Security, Geopolitics, U.S, China, Russia Introduction At the 2025 North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) Summit in The Hague, member states (Allies) committed to investing 5% of their Gross Domestic Product (GDP) annually in core defence requirements and defence- and security-related spending by 2035. They will allocate at least 3.5% of GDP annually, based on the agreed-upon definition of NATO defence expenditure, by 2035 to resource core defence requirements and meet the NATO Capability Targets. Allies agreed to submit annual plans that show a credible, incremental path to achieving this goal.[1] At the same time, Spain secured a special compromise, committing to meet core requirements with just 2.1% of GDP, making it the only exception to the broader 5% target. Previously, in 2014, NATO Heads of State and Government had agreed to commit 2% of their national GDP to defence spending, to help ensure the Alliance's continued military readiness. This decision was taken in response to Russia's illegal annexation of Crimea, and amid broader instability in the Middle East. The 2014 Defence Investment Pledge was built on an earlier commitment to meeting this 2% of GDP guideline, agreed in 2006 by NATO Defence Ministers. In light of the increase in defence spending, given that 23 out of 32 NATO Allies are EU member states, the idea of European Union strategic autonomy (EU-SA) comes to mind. This paper will explore the issue of EU-SA with a specific reference to EU-Russia and EU-China relations.[2] A Brief History of EU Strategic Autonomy European Union strategic autonomy is an evolving concept that reflects its ambition to act independently in strategically important policy areas, including foreign policy, security, defence, and economic relations. Strong strategic autonomy, according to Barbara Lippert, Nicolai von Ondarza and Volker Perthes, means being able to set, modify and enforce international rules, as opposed to (unwillingly) obeying rules set by others. The opposite of strategic autonomy is being a rule-taker, subject to strategic decisions made by others, such as the United States, China, or Russia.[3] The concept was first prominently discussed in the context of defence in 2013 and has since expanded to encompass a broader range of policy areas. Historically speaking, one can identify numerous phases during which EU-SA evolved. - 2013-2016: During this period, EU-SA focused on security and defence, with initiatives like the Permanent Structured Cooperation (PESCO) and the European Defence Fund, aiming to strengthen the EU's defence capabilities.[4]  - 2017-2019: During this period, the EU-SA shifted its focus to defending European interests in a hostile geopolitical environment, influenced by events such as Brexit, the Trump presidency, and China's growing assertiveness.- 2020: The COVID-19 pandemic highlighted economic vulnerabilities, prompting a focus on mitigating dependence on foreign supply chains, particularly in critical sectors like health and technology.- Since 2021: The scope widened to virtually all EU policy areas, including digital, energy, and values, with terminology evolving to include "open strategic autonomy," "strategic sovereignty," "capacity to act," and "resilience".- 2022: The Ukraine War and Accelerated Implementation. Russia's invasion of Ukraine catalysed concrete actions toward EU-SA, notably in defence, energy independence, and economic resilience. The European Council's Versailles Declaration (March 2022) expressed strong political will to increase EU-SA, calling for collaborative investments in defence, phasing out dependency on Russian energy, and reducing reliance on critical raw materials, semiconductors, health, digital technologies, and food imports.[5] - The Strategic Compass for security and defence policy (endorsed March 2022) outlines a roadmap to 2030, emphasising strengthened EU defence capacities. Among others, it includes: o   Establishment of a strong EU Rapid Deployment Capacity of up to 5000 troops for different types of crises.o   Ready to deploy 200 fully equipped Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP) mission experts within 30 days, including in complex environments.[6]o   Conducting regular live exercises on land and at sea.o   Enhanced military mobility.o   Reinforcement of the EU's civilian and military CSDP missions and operations by promoting a rapid and more flexible decision-making process, acting more robustly and ensuring greater financial solidarity.o   Making full use of the European Peace Facility to support partners.[7] According to the EU itself, the EU-SA is not a zero-sum game, but rather a sliding scale between complete autonomy and full dependency, with different results for different policy areas. What is more, when compared to the famous Maslow's hierarchy of needs (European Parliament briefing's language), the EU is not only perceived as an economic power, but it is also seen as a normative power. Therefore, the EU is recognised for its core values of democracy, human rights and the rule of law. Ultimately, Maslow's “self-actualisation” could mean the achievement of an EU in which citizens recognise their European identity and which has realised its full autonomous policy potential.[8]   As if this is not enough, the same source introduces the concept of the 360° strategic autonomy wheel, which reportedly illustrates policy areas in which the EU aims for greater strategic autonomy, as well as the connections between them. Mutual influence between policy areas can happen across the wheel, but is particularly strong in adjacent areas. Military action, for example, can cause migration, health is linked to food quality, energy policy influences the climate, and misinformation undermines democracy. The wheel can help to understand links, set priorities and view potential conflicts. More autonomy in the digital green economy will, for example, require vast quantities of “rare earth” materials, making the EU more (instead of less) dependent on imports. Reductions in energy consumption achieved through the digitalisation of the economy (for example, by reducing transport) will be partly offset by the increase in energy consumption by electronic devices and data centres.   Global Context The significance of EU-SA lies in ensuring the EU's political survival and global influence in a multipolar world where its relative power is diminishing. The EU's long-term economic outlook is bleak: its share of global GDP, now at 17% (at current prices), could nearly halve by 2050. According to the World Economic Forum, this economic backsliding not only threatens Europe's ability to fund its social model but also risks weighing on the bloc's global influence, leaving it even more dependent on the U.S. and China.[9] Moreover, the COVID-19 pandemic highlighted the conflictual nature of economic interdependence, as reliance on foreign supply chains for critical goods exposed vulnerabilities. Soft power has become an instrument of hard power, necessitating autonomy in trade, finance, and investment.  The U.S.'s strategic pivot to Asia, the exclusion of Europe in conflicts like Nagorno-Karabakh, Libya, and Syria (termed Astanisation[10], which favours Russia and Turkey), the sidelining of the EU in EU-Russia negotiations regarding the war in Ukraine, and China's state-led economic model have all pushed the EU towards the sidelines. Transatlantic divide Security is a critical dimension, with significant uncertainty surrounding the U.S. commitment to NATO under the Trump administration. Reports indicate Trump has questioned NATO's Article 5 guarantees, with actions like withdrawing military personnel from a Ukraine aid hub in Poland on April 8, 2025, and proposing to stand down 10,000 light infantry troops in Poland, Romania, and the Baltic states by 2025.[11] This has led to fears of a "NATO-minus" scenario, where the EU must fill security gaps without full U.S. backing. In response, the EU is pushing for greater strategic autonomy in defence. Initiatives like ReArm EU are mentioned, with calls for the EU to develop a stand-alone, integrated military capacity to stabilise the global economy. As Jean-Pierre Maulny, Deputy Director of the French Institute for International and Strategic Affairs (IRIS), adequately observes "The risk is now clear: a form of bilateral agreement between the United States and Russia, benefiting the interests of both countries, could leave Ukraine severely weakened and an easy prey for Moscow, thereby weakening other European countries consequently. As a consolation prize, we will have to ensure Europe's conventional security, as U.S. Secretary of Defence Pete Hegseth announced to Europeans at the opening of the NATO ministerial meeting held in Brussels on 12–13 February 2025. This situation will place Europeans in a terrible dilemma: Either they do not wish to provide security guarantees to Ukraine and risk completely discrediting themselves in the eyes of powers such as the United States, Russia, and China, as Europeans will have demonstrated that they are unable to defend the continent, while also creating a significant long-term risk to Europe's security. Alternatively, they could provide security guarantees to Ukraine, accepting the financial burden that would impact the European Union's long-term competitiveness. In light of this situation, some advocate for the establishment of a European pillar within NATO. If one considers that the United States is negotiating peace in Europe without and against the Europeans, and that they no longer wish to defend Europe with conventional military means (will they respect the NATO Defence Planning Process?), Europeans should take on Europe's security fully. This would mean taking control of NATO. It will also be easier to make NATO and the European Union work together with a more Europeanised organisation".[12] Economically, there are several issues that contemporary demand addresses, but the most pressing is, of course, the Tariffs. The U.S. and European Union are running out of time to strike a deal on trade tariffs. Negotiations have been slow since both the U.S. and EU temporarily cut duties on each other until July 9. If an agreement is not achieved by then, full reciprocal import tariffs of 50% on EU goods, and the bloc's wide-spanning countermeasures are set to come into effect.[13] According to Almut Möller, Director for European and Global Affairs and head of the Europe in the World programme (European Policy Centre), "for the first time in decades, Europeans can no longer rely on a benign partner on the other side of the Atlantic, leaving them dangerously exposed and acutely vulnerable, including on the very foundations of liberal democracy. Until recently, the U.S. dominated a world order that provided a favourable environment for the EU to extend its membership, further develop, and leverage its strengths, particularly as a trading power, without having to worry much about geopolitics. Suddenly, liberal Europe looks very lonely, and is struggling to keep up with a world of change".[14] Other problems arguably include digital regulation and data protection, antitrust policy and digital taxation, fiscal policy and social protection, geopolitical rivalries, China's rise, and competition and trade policy. EU–China conundrum Both the EU and the U.S. are concerned about China's growing economic and technological influence, but they have differing approaches to addressing this challenge. The EU has sought to maintain a balance between cooperation and competition with China, while the U.S. has adopted a more confrontational approach.[15] These differences have led to tensions in areas such as trade policy and technology regulation. For example, the EU has been critical of the U.S.'s unilateral approach to addressing China's trade practices, while the U.S. has accused the EU of being too lenient towards China. These disagreements have made it difficult to achieve a coordinated transatlantic response to China's rise.[16] According to German experts, the balance of power between China and the EU and its member states is developing increasingly asymmetrically to Europe's disadvantage. Only in trade policy – and partially in investment – can the EU maintain its position in a manner respected by China.[17] Europe holds significant importance for China across various dimensions: economically, as its top supplier and second-largest export destination; technologically, as a source of advanced technology; institutionally, as a model to emulate; politically, to advance its objectives concerning other nations, particularly the United States; and selectively, as a collaborator in areas like global health and regional stabilisation. Unlike Russia and the United States, China perceives a vital interest in the EU's continued existence and unity within a multipolar world; yet, it employs a "divide and rule" strategy. China selectively rewards or penalises individual EU countries based on their political and economic significance and their compliance with China's expectations on key issues. These issues include arms sales to Taiwan, meetings with the Tibetan Dalai Lama, and positions on the Uighurs, human rights in China, and the South China Sea. China engages with Europe on multiple levels — political, economic, technological, cultural, and academic — using various political channels (such as strategic partnerships with the EU and individual EU member states), dialogue formats (like the 16+1 format with sixteen Central and Eastern European countries), and high-level bilateral intergovernmental consultations with Germany, France, and the United Kingdom. China's hopes that the European Union would emerge as an independent and comprehensive player in global politics, serving as a counterbalance to the United States, have diminished. However, China would be supportive of any European efforts towards achieving strategic autonomy, provided it does not translate into a confrontational approach towards China itself. In contrast, Europe's political priorities—such as ensuring peace and stability in East Asia, China's role in global stability, development, environmental issues, climate change, and non-proliferation, as well as improving human rights in China — are often considered secondary and are not actively pursued by all EU member states. Europe lacks a unified and assertive foreign policy stance regarding the geopolitical rivalry between the United States and China for dominance in the Asia-Pacific region. There is also an absence of a clear position on China's authoritarian vision of order. Even in trade and investment disputes, Europe struggles to establish a unified approach to resolving these issues. The EU member states are too diverse in terms of size, profiles, and interests in their dealings with China: Economically, there is a divide between countries that are appealing industrial and technological partners for China and those that compete for favour in Beijing. Some nations have a clear interest in global governance. Additionally, the United Kingdom and France maintain their respective military presences in the Asia region. In this context, ReArm EU and its financial instrument SAFE (analysed here https://worldnewworld.com/page/content.php?no=5384 ) have the potential to provide the EU with meaningful strategic autonomy and invite genuine geopolitical actorness. EU–Russia conundrum Since Donald Trump took office as the U.S. president, the coordination of transatlantic policies regarding Russia has largely disintegrated. The White House's openness to a comprehensive "deal" with Russian President Vladimir Putin contrasts with Congress's attempts to limit Trump's foreign policy options with Russia, resulting in the marginalisation of coordination with European allies. This situation is further complicated by Washington's increasing reliance on extraterritorial sanctions, a trend that began before Trump's presidency. Consequently, according to European foreign and security experts, Europe must achieve greater strategic autonomy in its dealings with Russia. However, this relationship is particularly strained by significant conflicts of interest. Russia's invasion of Ukraine significantly disrupted the previously peaceful and liberal democratic relations among European nations. Putin's "special military operation" compelled the EU to introduce seventeen (so far) escalating economic sanction packages aimed at undermining the Russian economy and ultimately limiting Russia's capacity to continue the war. In a gesture of solidarity with Ukraine, the EU has also allocated billions of euros to both EU member states and Ukraine to avert a humanitarian disaster and ensure the provision of essential needs for Ukrainians fleeing the conflict.[18] After three and a half years from the outset of the war, Russia continues to pose a complex challenge that the EU and European nations cannot address independently in the foreseeable future. If the U.S. security guarantee weakens before Europe can bolster its own capabilities, the EU could face new vulnerabilities that Russia might exploit along its external borders, such as in the Baltic states, and elsewhere. Currently, the EU and its member states lack sufficient means to deter Russia from pursuing its interests aggressively and recklessly in the shared neighbourhood.[19] Critics, on the other hand, argue that calls for EU strategic autonomy, particularly the creation of a European Army and a significant increase in military spending, are a double-edged sword. First, the primary official rationale is that the EU must prepare itself for a possible attack on EU member states by Russia. The legacy media are full of European leaders claiming that Russia will sooner or later attack Europe.[20] Yet, this claim is not substantiated with much evidence. The proponents of the European army completely disregard numerous doubts surrounding the 2013/2014 "Euromaidan" and the role of the CIA in the events.[21] Second, according to the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) 's estimations, the total number of conflict-related casualties in Ukraine from April 14, 2014, to December 31, 2021, stood at 51,000 – 54,000. These numbers are broken down as follows: 14,200 - 14,400 killed (at least 3,404 civilians, estimated 4,400 Ukrainian forces, and estimated 6,500 members of armed groups), and 37,000 - 39,000 injured (7,000 – 9,000 civilians, 13,800 – 14,200 Ukrainian forces and 15,800 - 16,200 members of armed groups).[22] In short, the situation was chaotic, with many casualties among civilians. Third, it was allegedly Europeans who torpedoed a first chance of peace negotiations as early as April 2014 in Istanbul.[23] Fourth, many European leaders seem to be utterly oblivious to the fact that the prolongation of the war adds to the destruction of Ukraine and Ukrainian society, deaths and emigration. Last but not least, given the fact that it is Germany that calls for both the European Army and the federalisation of Europe (with some assistance from France), one should be extra careful given the role of Germans during the WWII and the fact that neither has there been any official peace treaty with Germany nor have they recompensated countries such as Poland. Conclusion Strategic autonomy may be a necessity for Europe, given the dynamics of transatlantic relationships. The questions, however, that have to be pondered (and it does not seem that anyone in the legacy media or mainstream academia is ready to ask them) are numerous. Who will pay for that? Can Europeans afford such expenses under the current economic circumstances, and even worse economic prospects? Is the centralisation of security and military a Pandora's box? Should Europeans allow Germany (of all EU member states) to take special responsibility for this project? Isn't the pro-war rhetoric of Western political leaders making relations with Russia even more tense and dangerous, in other words, leading to escalation? History has solemnly proven that when left to their own devices, the Europeans inevitably create disastrous conflicts that have lasting consequences for generations. The American pivot to Asia and the consequent withdrawal from Europe may therefore have tragic ramifications for the European continent. References[1] Defence expenditures and NATO’s 5% commitment. (2025, June 27). North Atlantic Treaty Organization. https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/topics_49198.htm[2] NATO and the EU have 23 members in common: Belgium, Bulgaria, Croatia, Czechia, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, Italy, Latvia, Lithuania, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Slovakia, Slovenia, Spain and Sweden. See more at: https://www.consilium.europa.eu/en/policies/eu-nato-cooperation/#0[3] Lippert, B., von Ondarza, N., & Perthes, V. (2019, March). European Strategic Autonomy. Actors, Issues, Conflicts of Interests. Stiftung Wissenschaft Un Politic. Deutches Institut für Politik Und Sicherheit. https://www.swp-berlin.org/ doi:10.18449/2019RP04/#hd-d14204e263[4] Damen, M. (2022, July). EU strategic autonomy 2013-2023: From concept to capacity (EU Strategic Autonomy Monitor). European Parliamentary Research Service. https://www.eprs.ep.parl.union.eu[5] Informal meeting of the Heads of State or Government Versailles Declaration. (2022, March 10–11). Stiftung Wissenschaft Un Politic. Deutches Institut Fur Politik Und Sicherheit. https://www.consilium.europa.eu/media/54773/20220311-versailles-declaration-en.pdf[6] See more at: https://www.eeas.europa.eu/eeas/csdp-structure-instruments-and-agencies_en[7] See more at: https://fpi.ec.europa.eu/what-we-do/european-peace-facility_en[8] Damen, M. (2022, July). EU strategic autonomy 2013-2023: From concept to capacity (EU Strategic Autonomy Monitor). European Parliamentary Research Service. https://www.eprs.ep.parl.union.eu[9] Open but Secure:  Europe’s Path to Strategic Interdependence. INSIGHT REPORT. (2025). World Economic Forum. https://reports.weforum.org/docs/WEF_Open_but_Secure_Europe%E2%80%99s_Path_to_Strategic_Interdependence_2025.pdf[10] In reference to the Astana format on Syria) which leads to the exclusion of Europe from the settlement of regional conflicts in favour of Russia and Turkey. See more: https://www.eeas.europa.eu/eeas/why-european-strategic-autonomy-matters_en[11] Tilles, D. (2025, April 8). US to withdraw military from Ukraine aid hub in Poland. Notes from Poland. https://notesfrompoland.com/2025/04/08/us-to-withdraw-military-from-ukraine-aid-hub-in-poland/[12] Maulny, J.-P. (2025, February 13). United States – Europe: Our Paths Are Splitting. The French Institute for International and Strategic Affairs (IRIS). https://www.iris-france.org/en/united-states-europe-our-paths-are-splitting/[13] Kiderlin, S. (2025, June 18). These are the sticking points holding up a U.S.-EU trade deal. CNBC. https://www.cnbc.com/2025/06/18/these-are-the-sticking-points-holding-up-a-us-eu-trade-deal.html#:~:text=The%20EU%20and%20US%20flags,Poland%20on%20March%206%2C%202025.&text=Afp%20%7C%20Getty%20Images-,The%20U.S.%20and%20European%20Union%20are%20running%20out%20of%20time,($1.93%20trillion)%20in%202024?[14] Möller, A. (2025, February 26). Europe in the World in 2025: Navigating a perilous world with realism and ambition. European Policy Centre. https://www.epc.eu/publication/Europe-in-the-World-in-2025-Navigating-a-perilous-world-with-realism-625da4/#:~:text=2025%20will%20be%20a%20year,with%20a%20world%20of%20change[15] Bradford, A. (2023). When Rights, Markets, and Security Collide (pp. 221–254). Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780197649268.003.0007[16] Portanskiy, A. (2023). UE - US: new barriers to trade. Современная Европа. https://doi.org/10.31857/s020170832304006x[17] Lippert, B., von Ondarza, N., & Perthes, V. (2019, March). European Strategic Autonomy. Actors, Issues, Conflicts of Interests. Stiftung Wissenschaft Un Politic. Deutches Institut für Politik Und Sicherheit. https://www.swp-berlin.org/ doi:10.18449/2019RP04/#hd-d14204e263 [18] Klüver, L. (2025, April 18). Putin’s War on Ukraine: What can the EU actually do? European Careers Association. https://ecamaastricht.org/blueandyellow-knowyourunion/putins-war-on-ukraine-what-can-the-eu-actually-do#:~:text=Similarly%2C%20the%20Strategic%20Compass%2C%20the%20most%20recent,its%20interests%20and%20promote%20its%20values%20internationally.[19] Lippert, B., von Ondarza, N., & Perthes, V. (2019, March). European Strategic Autonomy. Actors, Issues, Conflicts of Interests. Stiftung Wissenschaft Un Politic. Deutches Institut für Politik Und Sicherheit. https://www.swp-berlin.org/ doi:10.18449/2019RP04/#hd-d14204e263 [20] ochecová, K. (2025, February 11). Russia could start a major war in Europe within 5 years, Danish intelligence warns. Politico. https://www.politico.eu/article/russia-war-threat-europe-within-5-years-danish-intelligence-ddis-warns/[21] Katchanovski, I. (2024). The Maidan Massacre in Ukraine The Mass Killing that Changed the World. Palgrave Macmillan. https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-67121-0[22] Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights. (2022, January 27). Conflict-related civilian casualties in Ukraine: December 2021 update. United Nations Human Rights Monitoring Mission in Ukraine. https://ohchr.org[23] Johnson, J. (2022, May 6). Boris Johnson Pressured Zelenskyy to Ditch Peace Talks With Russia: Ukrainian Paper. Common Dreams. https://www.commondreams.org/news/2022/05/06/boris-johnson-pressured-zelenskyy-ditch-peace-talks-russia-ukrainian-paper

Energy & Economics
To achieve sustainable environmental conservation, we must prioritize clean energy solutions to reduce our dependence on fossil fuels and promote a sustainable future for future generations.

Harnessing nuclear power for sustainable electricity generation and achieving zero emissions

by Mohamed Khaleel , Ziyodulla Yusupov , Sassi Rekik , Heybet Kılıç , Yasser F. Nassar , Hala J. El-Khozondar , Abdussalam Ali Ahmed

Note: some parts of the article have been excluded, if you want to go deep in the article please check  https://doi.org/10.1177/01445987251314504 for the complete version. Abstract Nuclear power plays a pivotal role in sustainable electricity generation and global net zero emissions, contributing significantly to this secure pathway. Nuclear power capacity is expected to double, escalating from 413 gigawatts (GW) in early 2022 to 812 GW by 2050 within the net zero emissions (NZE) paradigm. The global energy landscape is undergoing significant transformation as nations strive to transition to more sustainable energy systems. Amidst this shift, nuclear power has emerged as a crucial component in the pursuit of a sustainable energy transition. This study examines nuclear power's multifaceted role in shaping sustainable energy transition. It delves into nuclear energy's contributions toward decarbonization efforts, highlighting its capacity to provide low-carbon electricity and its potential role in mitigating climate change. Furthermore, the study explores the challenges and opportunities associated with integrating nuclear power into energy transition strategies, addressing issues such as safety, waste management, and public perception. In conclusion, the global nuclear power capacity is anticipated to reach approximately 530 GW by 2050, representing a substantial shortfall of 35% compared with the trajectory outlined in the NZE pathway. Under the NZE scenario, nuclear power demonstrates exceptional expansion, nearly doubling from 413 GW in early 2022 to 812 GW by 2050. Concurrently, the trajectory highlights a transformative shift in renewable energy investments, with annual expenditures surging from an average of US$325 billion during 2016–2020 to an impressive US$1.3 trillion between 2031 and 2035. These projections underscore the critical role of nuclear and renewable energy investments in achieving global sustainability and emission reduction goals. Introduction Global warming and greenhouse gas emissions pose some of the most pressing challenges of the 21st century. The combustion of fossil fuels for electricity generation is a major contributor to these issues, releasing billions of tons of carbon dioxide (CO2) into the atmosphere annually (Abbasi et al., 2020; Nassar et al., 2024; Rekik and El Alimi, 2024a). In this context, nuclear energy emerges as a critical component of the solution. Unlike fossil fuels, nuclear power generates electricity with minimal greenhouse gas emissions, offering a reliable and scalable alternative to bridge the gap between energy demand and decarbonization goals. It operates independently of weather conditions, providing consistent energy output and complementing the intermittency of renewable sources like wind and solar (Rekik and El Alimi, 2024b, 2024c). Furthermore, advancements in nuclear technologies, including small modular reactors (SMRs) and generation IV reactors, have addressed historical concerns related to safety, waste management, and cost-effectiveness (Lau and Tsai, 2023). In 2022, global investment in low-emission fuels will maintain a robust growth trajectory, reaching a sum of US$13 billion. A significant portion of this investment was allocated toward liquid biofuels, totaling US$9.4 billion, and biogas, amounting to US$2.7 billion. It is important to emphasize that liquid biofuels constituted approximately 80% of the overall investment surge observed in 2022, with investments in biogas contributing 4% of the total. The residual portion of the investment was directed toward low-emission hydrogen production, which attained a sum of US$1.2 billion in 2022, representing an almost fourfold increase compared to the figures recorded in 2021 (Khaleel et al., 2024).Nuclear power is a pivotal component of low-carbon energy, which significantly contributes to the realization of a low-carbon economy and establishment of a green energy grid (Arvanitidis et al., 2023; El Hafdaoui et al., 2024; Fragkos et al., 2021). According to current data, 442 nuclear power reactors are operational worldwide, collectively generating 393 gigawatts (GW) of electricity, thereby furnishing a consistent and dependable source of low-carbon power (Mathew, 2022). Nuclear electricity constitutes approximately 11% of the total global electricity generation, representing a substantial portion of the global low-carbon electricity production (Alam et al., 2019). Recent advancements have enhanced the affordability and appeal of nuclear power as an alternative source of energy. These advancements encompass progress in large reactor technologies, the emergence of novel approaches such as advanced fuel utilization and SMRs, engineering breakthroughs facilitating the extension of operational lifespans for existing reactors, and innovations in materials science and improved waste management practices (Kröger et al., 2020; Zhan et al., 2021). Fast breeder reactor technology has transitioned into a commercial realm, offering benefits beyond electricity generation by enabling the production of surplus fuel and enhancing the efficiency of nuclear waste incineration, surpassing the capabilities of existing commercial reactor technologies (Lau and Tsai, 2023). Nuclear power plays a substantial role within a secure global trajectory toward achieving net zero emissions (NZE) (Addo et al., 2023; Dafnomilis et al., 2023). Nuclear power capacity experiences a twofold increase, progressing from 413 GW at the outset of 2022 to 812 GW by 2050 within the NZE paradigm. It is apparent that the annual additions to nuclear capacity peaked at 27 GW per year during the 2030s, surpassing the levels observed in the preceding decade. Despite these advancements, the global proportion of nuclear power within the overall electricity generation portfolio has experienced a marginal decline, settling at 8% (Murphy et al., 2023; Ruhnau et al., 2023). Emerging and developing economies (EMDEs) substantially dominate global growth, constituting over 90% of the aggregate, with China poised to ascend as a preeminent nuclear power producer prior to 2030. Concurrently, advanced economies collectively witness a 10% augmentation in nuclear power capacity as retirements are counterbalanced by the commissioning of new facilities, predominantly observed in nations such as the United States, France, the United Kingdom, and Canada (Bórawski et al., 2024). Furthermore, annual global investment in nuclear power has experienced a notable escalation, soaring from US$30 billion throughout the 2010s to surpass US$100 billion by 2030, maintaining a robust trajectory above US$80 billion by 2050 (IEA, 2022). In 2022, global nuclear power capacity experienced a modest increase of approximately 1.5 GW, reflecting a marginal year-on-year growth of 0.3%. This expansion was primarily driven by new capacity additions that surpassed the retirement of an over 6 GW of existing capacity (Fernández-Arias et al., 2023; Mendelevitch et al., 2018). EMDEs accounted for approximately 60% of the new capacity additions, underscoring their increasing significance in the global nuclear energy landscape. Conversely, more than half of the retirements were observed in advanced economies, including Belgium, the United Kingdom, and the United States. Table 1 shows the nuclear power capacity by region in the NZE from 2018 to 2030.   In alignment with the Net Zero Scenario, it is imperative for the global nuclear capacity to undergo an expansion averaging approximately 15 GW per annum, constituting a growth rate slightly exceeding 3% annually, until 2030. This strategic augmentation is crucial for sustaining the contribution of the nuclear sector to electricity generation, maintaining its share at approximately 10% (Liu et al., 2023). Such an expansion necessitates concerted efforts in both advanced economies and EMDEs. Furthermore, prioritizing the extension of operational lifetimes of existing nuclear facilities within G7 member states would not only fortify the existing low-emission infrastructure, but also facilitate the integration of new nuclear capacity, thereby augmenting the overall nuclear energy portfolio. [...] The significant contribution of nuclear power to sustainable energy transitions is underscored by its multifaceted role in addressing the pressing challenges of climate change and energy security (Asif et al., 2024). As nations worldwide endeavor to shift toward greener energy systems, nuclear power has emerged as a critical pillar of the decarbonization journey. Its ability to provide low-carbon electricity, mitigate climate change impacts by 2050, and enhance energy security highlights its pivotal importance in the broader context of sustainable energy transitions (Bhattacharyya et al., 2023; NEA, 2015). Thus, to fully realize its potential, challenges such as safety, waste management, and public perception must be addressed effectively. By leveraging robust policy frameworks, technological advancements, and international collaboration, nuclear power is poised to play a vital role in shaping the future of sustainable energy transitions on a global scale. Furthermore, the dynamic landscape of nuclear power development is evident in the significant influence exerted by EMDEs, particularly China, which is expected to emerge as a leading nuclear power producer by 2030 (Fälth et al., 2021; Nkosi and Dikgang, 2021). Concurrently, advanced economies are witnessing notable expansions in nuclear power capacity driven by the commissioning of new facilities to offset retirements (Budnitz et al., 2018). This trend is further reinforced by a notable surge in annual global investment in nuclear power, underscoring the sustained commitment to nuclear energy's pivotal role in sustainable energy transitions in the foreseeable future (IEA, 2019). The primary objective of this article is to explore the strategic role of nuclear power in advancing global sustainability goals and achieving zero emissions. The objective is structured around the following key agendas: •Nuclear power: prominence and green electricity source•Nuclear's role in achieving net zero by 2050•Nuclear power's significance in power system adequacySpecific technologies for sustainability in nuclear energy production•Investment in nuclear power•Addressing policy implications This comprehensive analysis aims to provide actionable insights into harnessing nuclear power for sustainable electricity generation and its pivotal role in achieving global zero-emission targets. Data and methodology This article conducts an in-depth analysis of the role of nuclear power in achieving sustainable electricity generation and supporting NZE targets. The article also addresses the potential of nuclear energy as a prominent and environmentally favorable electricity source, examining nuclear power's contribution toward the net zero by 2050 goal, its critical importance in ensuring power system adequacy, investment imperatives, and the broader policy implications.  [...] Nuclear power: prominence and green electricity source In 2020, nuclear power will constitute approximately 10% of the global electricity generation portfolio. This proportion, which had previously stood at 18% during the late 1990s, has experienced a decline; nonetheless, nuclear energy retains its status as the second-largest provider of low-emission electricity, trailing only hydroelectricity, and serves as the primary source within advanced economies. Despite the substantial proliferation of wind and solar PV technologies, nuclear electricity production in 2020 surpassed the aggregate output of these renewable sources. As of 2021, the global cumulative installed nuclear capacity has reached 413 GW, with 270 GW of this total being installed in advanced economies (Guidi et al., 2023; Halkos and Zisiadou, 2023; Pan et al., 2023; Zhang et al., 2022). Nuclear power generation during this period amounted to 2653 TWh, positioning it as the second largest source of electricity generation after hydropower, which generated 4275 TWh, as depicted in Figure 1.   In addition to its significant role in power generation, nuclear energy plays a crucial role in mitigating carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions. Since the 1970s, nuclear power has helped avoid the global release of approximately 66 gigatons (Gt) of CO2 globally, as shown in Figure 2.   Without the contribution of nuclear power, cumulative emissions from electricity generation would have increased by approximately 20%, whereas total energy-related emissions would have increased by 6% over this period (Wagner, 2021). Advanced economies accounted for more than 85% of these avoided emissions, with the European Union accounting for 20 Gt and the United States for 24 Gt, representing over 40% and 25% of total electricity generation emissions, respectively. In the absence of nuclear power, Japan would have experienced an estimated 25% increase in emissions from electricity generation, whereas Korea and Canada would have seen an increase of approximately 50%. Nuclear's role in achieving net zero by 2050 Nuclear energy has emerged as a pivotal low-emission technology within the trajectory toward achieving NZE (Pioro et al., 2019). In addition, it serves as a complementary force, bolstering the accelerated expansion of renewables, thereby facilitating the reduction of emissions from the global electricity sector to net zero by 2040 (Krūmiņš and Kļaviņš, 2023; Islam et al., 2024). Beyond its intrinsic contribution to fostering a low-emission electricity supply, nuclear power is significant as a dispatchable generating asset, fortifying supply security through its provision of system adequacy and flexibility. Furthermore, it is instrumental in furnishing heat for district heating networks and in selecting industrial facilities. Despite this, the prospective role of nuclear energy hinges significantly on the deliberations and determinations of policymakers and industry stakeholders concerning the pace of new reactor construction initiatives and the continued operational lifespan of existing nuclear facilities (Li et al., 2016; Li et al., 2015).In terms of the NZE trajectory, the global nuclear power capacity exhibits a remarkable surge, nearly doubling from 413 GW at the onset of 2022 to 812 GW by 2050 (Price et al., 2023; Utami et al., 2022). This augmentation primarily stems from the vigorous initiation of new construction endeavors, which effectively counterbalance the gradual decommissioning of numerous extant plants. Such an escalation constitutes a pronounced acceleration in comparison to the preceding three decades, characterized by a mere 15% increment in capacity, equivalent to approximately 60 GW (Haneklaus et al., 2023; Obekpa and Alola, 2023; Sadiq et al., 2023). Figure 3 demonstrates the nuclear power capacity within each country/region under the NZE by 2050 scenario.   The expected growth in nuclear power capacity far exceeds the path outlined by the current policies and legal frameworks. According to the Stated Policies Scenario (STEPS), the nuclear capacity is projected to reach approximately 530 GW by 2050, which is 35% lower than that of the NZE pathway (Espín et al., 2023; Nicolau et al., 2023; Nnabuife et al., 2023; Wang et al., 2023). Without a significant shift from recent nuclear power development trends, achieving NZE would require a limited reliance on a smaller range of low-emission technologies. This could compromise energy security and lead to higher total investment costs, resulting in increased electricity prices for consumers. Table 2 shows the average annual capacity addition for global nuclear power in NZE from 1981 to 2030.   In 2022, the global deployment of new nuclear power capacity witnessed a notable upsurge, with 7.9 GW added, representing a substantial 40% increase compared to the preceding year (Ho et al., 2019). It is worth bearing in mind that China spearheaded this expansion by completing the construction of two reactors, maintaining its streak for consecutive years as the leading contributor to global nuclear power capacity augmentation. It is noteworthy that the projects were successfully completed in various other nations, including Finland, Korea, Pakistan, and the United Arab Emirates. Additionally, significant strides were made in the initiation of new construction endeavors, with the commencement of construction activities on five reactors in China, two reactors in Egypt, and one reactor in Turkey (Hickey et al., 2021). Nuclear power's significance in power system adequacy Nuclear power facilities have persistently underpinned the dependability of power systems, thereby bolstering the adequacy of the system. Across diverse national contexts, nuclear power plants have historically maintained operational readiness, manifesting availability rates consistently exceeding 90%, thereby demonstrating their reliability in power generation. Given that a substantial proportion of nuclear power capacity directly contributes to system adequacy metrics, its significance in fortifying system reliability and adequacy significantly outweighs its proportional contribution to the total power capacity (Orikpete and Ewim, 2024; Frilingou et al., 2023; Raj, 2023; Ragosa et al., 2024). The contribution of nuclear power to system adequacy is demonstrated by the consistent trajectory of its share within the aggregate dispatchable power capacity, hovering at around 8% between 2021 and 2050 within the NZE framework (IEA, 2022; OIES, 2024). Dispatchable electricity sources have historically constituted the primary mechanism for ensuring system adequacy, a trend that endures within the NZE paradigm, especially as electricity systems undergo evolution marked by an escalating reliance on variable solar photovoltaic (PV) and wind energy sources (Marzouk, 2024; Moon et al., 2024; Wisnubroto et al., 2023). It is indisputable that unabated fossil fuel resources predominantly dominate dispatchable capacity; however, their prominence clearly diminishes, declining by a quarter by 2030 within the NZE framework and experiencing a precipitous decline thereafter. Unabated coal-fired power, currently the most substantial dispatchable source, anticipates a decline exceeding 40% in operational capacity by 2030 and approaches a state of negligible contribution by the early 2040s. Conversely, the unabated natural gas-fired power capacity exhibits a sustained level of stability until 2030, primarily driven by the necessity to offset the diminishing role of coal; nonetheless, it subsequently undergoes a rapid descent throughout the 2030s. Oil, constituting a comparatively minor contributor, experiences rapid phasing out across most regions, except for remote locales, within the delineated scenario (Makarov et al., 2023; Ren et al., 2024). Figure 4 highlights the global capacity of dispatchable power categorized by category in the scenario of achieving NZE by 2050.   In this context, fossil fuels equipped with Carbon Capture, Utilization, and Storage (CCUS) technology have emerged as notable contributors to bolstering system adequacy. Yet, nuclear power remains a steady contributor to the power system flexibility. In advanced economies, the proportion of hour-to-hour flexibility is projected to increase from approximately 2% to 5% by 2050. Similarly, in EMDEs, this ratio is anticipated to increase from 1% to 3% over the same temporal span (Jenkins et al., 2018). It is worth highlighting that in France, where nuclear power fulfills the lion's share of electricity generation requisites, flexibility has been ingrained within reactor designs (Ho et al., 2019). This feature enables certain plants to swiftly modulate their output to align with the fluctuating electricity supply and demand, operating in a load-following mode (Chen, 2024; Jin and Bae, 2023; Kanugrahan and Hakam, 2023). Although many nations have not habitually engaged nuclear power in such operational dynamics, a considerable number of reactors are capable of performing load-following operations with minimal or no requisite technical adaptations (Caciuffo et al., 2020). Figure 5 demonstrates the hour-to-hour power system flexibility based on the source and regional grouping in the NZE by the 2050 scenario.   Innovation holds promise in enhancing the flexibility of nuclear power. Advanced technological advancements, such as SMRs, can facilitate nuclear reactors to adjust their electricity output with greater ease, as illustrated in Figure 6 (Ho et al., 2019; Lee, 2024; Wisnubroto et al., 2023). Moreover, these technologies offer the prospect of enabling reactors to transition toward generating heat or producing hydrogen either independently or concurrently with electricity generation. Initiatives are underway to disseminate information to policymakers and planners regarding the potential cost advantages associated with enhancing nuclear power flexibility.  Figure 6 demonstrates the nuclear system augmented by wind turbines for trigeneration.   Investment in nuclear power The renaissance of nuclear power within the NZE trajectory necessitates a substantial surge in investment in the coming decades. This surge is envisaged to encompass the construction of new nuclear reactors and extension of operational lifespans for existing facilities. Within this scenario, annual global investment in nuclear power is poised to escalate to exceed US$100 billion during the initial half of the 2030s within the NZE framework, surpassing the threefold average investment level of US$30 billion recorded during the 2010s (IEA, 2022). Subsequently, investment levels are expected to gradually decline as the imperative for dispatchable low emissions generating capacity diminishes, tapering to approximately US$70 billion by the latter half of the 2040s (Kharitonov and Semenova, 2023; Zimmermann and Keles, 2023). Over the period spanning from 2021 to 2050, the allocation of investment toward nuclear power constitutes a fraction representing less than 10% of the aggregate investment dedicated to low-emission sources of electricity (IEA, 2022). By comparison, within this framework, the annual investment in renewable energy experiences a notable escalation, escalating from an average of US$325 billion during the interval from 2016 to 2020 to US$1.3 trillion during the period 2031–2035 (EEDP, 2023; Rekik and El Alimi, 2024d). It is worth noting that the latter consideration elucidates the rationale behind the disproportionate allocation of investment toward advanced economies in later decades. China, for instance, requires an annual expenditure averaging close to US$20 billion on nuclear infrastructure by 2050, representing a nearly twofold increase compared to the average observed during the 2010s (Aghahosseini et al., 2023; Vujić et al., 2012). Conversely, other EMDEs witness a tripling of investment, reaching approximately US$25 billion per year, on average. In contrast to advanced economies, the imperative for investment in these nations is more pronounced in the period leading up to 2035 (Bhattacharyya et al., 2023; Khaleel et al., 2024). Thus, nuclear energy, despite its advantages as a low-carbon energy source, faces notable challenges. High capital costs and long deployment timelines, driven by complex construction and regulatory requirements, often hinder its adoption. The management of radioactive waste remains a costly and contentious issue, while safety concerns, shaped by historical incidents, continue to influence public perception. Additionally, reliance on uranium, with its geographically concentrated supply, raises geopolitical and environmental concerns. Nuclear power also competes with the rapidly advancing and cost-effective renewable energy sector, while decommissioning aging plants poses long-term financial and logistical burdens. Addressing these limitations through advanced technologies, public engagement, and international collaboration is crucial for enhancing nuclear energy's role in sustainable energy transitions. Technologies for sustainability in nuclear energy production The pursuit of sustainability in nuclear energy production has been supported by advancements in innovative technologies that enhance efficiency, safety, and environmental compatibility (Aktekin et al., 2024; Ali et al., 2024; Zheng et al., 2024; Khan et al., 2017). These technologies are crucial for positioning nuclear power as a key contributor to clean and sustainable energy transitions. Below are some of the most impactful technologies in this domain: Advanced nuclear reactors: Small modular reactors (SMRs): SMRs are compact, scalable, and safer than traditional large-scale reactors. Their modular design allows for deployment in remote locations, making them suitable for decentralized energy systems. Generation IV reactors: These reactors incorporate advanced cooling systems and fuel cycles to improve efficiency, safety, and waste reduction. Examples include sodium-cooled fast reactors and gas-cooled fast reactors. Thorium-based reactors: Thorium fuel cycle reactors use thorium-232 as an alternative to uranium, offering a more abundant and sustainable fuel source. Thorium reactors produce less nuclear waste and have a lower risk of proliferation. Fusion energy: Although still in the experimental stage, nuclear fusion promises to be a game-changing technology. Fusion produces minimal radioactive waste and harnesses abundant fuel sources like deuterium and tritium, making it a virtually limitless and clean energy solution. Molten salt reactors (MSRs): MSRs use liquid fuels or coolants, such as molten salts, which operate at lower pressures and higher temperatures. These reactors are inherently safer and have the capability to utilize a variety of fuel types, including spent nuclear fuel and thorium. Reactor safety enhancements: Passive safety systems: These systems enhance reactor safety by using natural forces like gravity, natural convection, or condensation to cool the reactor core without human intervention. Digital twin technologies: Digital simulations and monitoring of reactor systems allow for predictive maintenance and real-time safety management. Nuclear waste management technologies Fast reactors: These reactors can recycle spent fuel, reducing the volume and radioactivity of nuclear waste. Deep geological repositories: Advances in geotechnical engineering have improved the safety of long-term waste storage in deep geological formations. Hybrid nuclear-renewable systems: Combining nuclear power with renewable energy sources like wind and solar can optimize energy production and grid stability. Hybrid systems leverage the reliability of nuclear energy with the intermittency of renewables for a balanced, low-carbon energy mix. Artificial intelligence (AI) and machine learning: AI and machine learning technologies are being deployed to enhance reactor performance, optimize fuel usage, and improve operational safety. Predictive analytics also play a critical role in maintenance and risk assessment. Fuel advancements: High-assay low-enriched uranium (HALEU): HALEU fuels enable reactors to operate more efficiently and reduce waste. Accident-tolerant fuels (ATFs): These are designed to withstand extreme conditions, reducing the likelihood of core damage during accidents. Integrated energy systems: Nuclear reactors are increasingly being used for purposes beyond electricity generation, such as hydrogen production, district heating, and desalination. The integration of digital technologies, including AI and machine learning, coupled with fuel advancements like HALEU and accident-tolerant fuels, highlights the continuous evolution of the nuclear sector. These innovations not only enhance efficiency and safety but also expand the applications of nuclear energy beyond electricity generation to include hydrogen production, desalination, and district heating. Despite these technological advancements, the sustainable deployment of nuclear energy requires robust policy frameworks, increased investments, and public acceptance. Addressing these challenges is critical to unlocking the full potential of nuclear power in achieving global energy security and NZE by 2050. [...] Discussion and policy implications Nuclear power presents a compelling case as a sustainable energy source owing to its several key advantages. Its high-energy density allows for substantial electricity generation from minimal fuel, enabling continuous operation, unlike intermittent renewables, such as solar and wind (Rekik and El Alimi, 2023a, 2023b), thus contributing significantly to grid stability (Cramer et al., 2023). Furthermore, nuclear power is a crucial tool for emissions reduction, boasting virtually no greenhouse gas emissions during operation. Although lifecycle emissions associated with fuel processing and plant construction exist, they remain comparable to or lower than those of renewables. Several studies have reported on the energy production capabilities of nuclear power and its contribution to reducing greenhouse gas emissions compared to other energy sources. A key aspect of these analyses is quantifying the potential contribution of nuclear power to reducing greenhouse gas emissions and achieving net zero targets. However, direct comparison of reported data can be challenging due to variations in model assumptions, geographic scope, and time horizons.  [...] From another perspective, radioactive waste generation poses a significant challenge to nuclear power because of its long-term hazardous nature. This necessitates meticulous management and disposal strategies to mitigate potential social impacts. These impacts arise from perceived or actual risks to human health and the environment, fueling public anxiety and opposition to nuclear power, which is often expressed through protests and legal action (Kyne and Bolin, 2016; Nilsuwankosit, 2017; Ram Mohan and Namboodhiry, 2020). Additionally, communities near waste sites can experience stigmatization, resulting in decreased property values and social isolation. The persistent nature of radioactive waste also raises intergenerational equity issues, burdening future generations with its management (Deng et al., 2020; Mason-Renton and Luginaah, 2019). Thus, transparent communication and stakeholder engagement are crucial for building public trust and ensuring responsible radioactive waste management (Dungan et al., 2021; Sančanin and Penjišević, 2023). There are various radioactive waste disposal pathways, each with unique social and technical considerations. Deep geological disposal, an internationally favored method for high-level waste disposal, involves burying waste deep underground for long-term isolation. Interim storage provides a secure temporary holding until a permanent solution is obtained (Chapman, 1992; Grambow, 2022). Reprocessing spent nuclear fuel recovers reusable materials, reducing high-level waste but creating lower-level waste. Advanced reactor technologies aim to minimize waste and improve safety, potentially converting long-lived isotopes into shorter-lived isotopes (Dixon et al., 2020; Englert and Pistner, 2023). Choosing a disposal pathway requires careful evaluation of factors, such as waste type and volume, geology, feasibility, cost, and public acceptance, often leading to a combined approach. Ongoing community engagement and addressing concerns are essential to safe and responsible waste management. Effective management and disposal of this waste require advanced technological solutions, robust regulatory frameworks, and long-term planning to ensure safety and sustainability (Abdelsalam et al., 2024; Rekik and El Alimi, 2024a), Moreover, its relatively small land footprint compared to other energy sources, especially solar and wind farms, minimizes the ecosystem impact and makes it a sustainable option in densely populated areas (Poinssot et al., 2016; Sadiq et al., 2022). Nuclear power also enhances energy security by reducing reliance on fossil fuels, which is particularly valuable in countries with limited domestic resources (Cramer et al., 2023; Ichord Jr., 2022). Additionally, nuclear power exhibits synergy with other clean technologies, providing a stable baseload complementing variable renewables and facilitating hydrogen production for diverse energy applications (Abdelsalam et al., 2024; El-Emam and Subki, 2021; Salam and Khan, 2018; Rekik, 2024; Rekik and El Alimi, 2024e). Finally, ongoing advancements in reactor design, such as SMRs, promise enhanced safety, reduced costs, and greater deployment flexibility, further solidifying the role of nuclear power in decarbonizing the electricity sector (Aunedi et al., 2023). Supportive policies and international cooperation are essential for fully realizing the potential of nuclear energy. Streamlined licensing and regulatory frameworks are crucial for reducing deployment time and costs and ensuring that safety standards are met efficiently (Gungor and Sari, 2022; Jewell et al., 2019). Furthermore, incentivizing investments through financial tools such as tax credits and loan guarantees can attract private capital and create a level-playing field for nuclear power (Decker and Rauhut, 2021; Nian and Hari, 2017; Zimmermann and Keles, 2023). Addressing public perception through education and engagement is equally important for building trust and acceptance. Moreover, international cooperation is vital in several respects. The disposal of radioactive waste remains a complex issue, requiring careful long-term management and securing geological repositories to prevent environmental contamination owing to the long half-life of some isotopes. Furthermore, while modern reactors incorporate advanced safety features, the potential for accidents such as Chernobyl and Fukushima remains a concern because of the potential for widespread radiation release and long-term health consequences (Denning and Mubayi, 2016; Högberg, 2013; Wheatley et al., 2016). Moreover, the high initial costs associated with design, construction, and licensing present significant barriers to new nuclear projects, particularly in developing countries. In addition, the risk of nuclear proliferation, in which technology intended for peaceful energy production is diverted for weapons development, necessitates stringent international safeguards, as highlighted by following reference. Public perception also plays a crucial role because negative opinions and concerns about safety and waste disposal can create opposition to new projects. Finally, the decommissioning of nuclear plants at the end of their operational life is a complex and costly process that requires substantial resources and expertise to dismantle reactors and manage radioactive materials. [...] Conclusion The role of nuclear power in sustainable energy transition is multifaceted and significant. As nations worldwide strive to transition toward more environmentally friendly energy systems, nuclear power has emerged as a crucial component of the decarbonization journey. Its capacity to provide low-carbon electricity, mitigate climate change, and contribute to energy security underscores its importance in the broader context of sustainable energy transitions. Despite this, challenges such as safety, waste management, and public perception must be addressed to fully harness the potential of nuclear power to achieve sustainability goals. By leveraging policy frameworks, technological innovations, and international cooperation, nuclear power can play a vital role in shaping the future of sustainable energy transition on a global scale. In this context, EMDEs exert a substantial influence on global growth, collectively accounting for over 90% of the aggregate, with China positioned to emerge as the foremost nuclear power producer before 2030. Concurrently, advanced economies have witnessed a notable 10% increase in their nuclear power capacity. This augmentation is attributed to the commissioning of new facilities, which offset retirements, manifestly observed in nations such as the United States, France, the United Kingdom, and Canada. Furthermore, there is a marked escalation in annual global investment in nuclear power, surging from US$30 billion throughout the 2010s to surpass US$100 billion by 2030. This upward trajectory is robustly sustained, remaining above US$80 billion by 2050. In conclusion, the remarkable decline in the levelized cost of electricity (LCOE) for solar PV and wind power over the past decade has positioned renewable energy as a cost-competitive and viable alternative to fossil fuels in many regions. The over 80% reduction in LCOE for utility-scale solar PV from 2010 to 2022 exemplifies the economic feasibility of renewables. Concurrently, the steady growth in renewable energy capacity, spearheaded by solar and wind energy, underscores their critical role in the global energy transition. With renewable electricity capacity surpassing 3300 GW in 2023 and accounting for over one-third of the global power mix, renewable energy is undeniably at the forefront of efforts to achieve a sustainable, low-carbon energy future. Declaration of conflicting interestsThe authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.FundingThe authors received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.ORCID iDSassi Rekik https://orcid.org/0000-0001-5224-4152Supplemental materialSupplemental material for this article is available online.ReferencesAbbasi K, Jiao Z, Shahbaz M, et al. (2020) Asymmetric impact of renewable and non-renewable energy on economic growth in Pakistan: New evidence from a nonlinear analysis. Energy Exploration & Exploitation 38(5): 1946–1967. Crossref. Web of Science.Abdelsalam E, Almomani F, Azzam A, et al. 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Energy & Economics
Commodity and alternative asset, gold bar and crypto currency Bitcoin on rising price graph as financial crisis or war safe haven, investment asset or wealth concept.

Assessing Bitcoin and Gold as Safe Havens Amid Global Uncertainties: A Rolling Window DCC-GARCH Analysis

by Anoop S Kumar , Meera Mohan , P. S. Niveditha

Abstract We examine the roles of Gold and Bitcoin as a hedge, a safe haven, and a diversifier against the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic and the Ukraine War. Using a rolling window estimation of the dynamic conditional correlation (DCC)-based regression, we present a novel approach to examine the time-varying safe haven, hedge, and diversifier properties of Gold and Bitcoin for equities portfolios. This article uses daily returns of Gold, Bitcoin, S&P500, CAC 40, and NSE 50 from January 3, 2018, to October 15, 2022. Our results show that Gold is a better safe haven than the two, while Bitcoin exhibits weak properties as safe haven. Bitcoin can, however, be used as a diversifier and hedge. This study offers policy suggestions to investors to diversify their holdings during uncertain times. Introduction Financial markets and the diversity of financial products have risen in both volume and value, creating financial risk and establishing the demand for a safe haven for investors. The global financial markets have faced several blows in recent years. From the Global Financial Crisis (GFC) to the outbreak of the pandemic and uncertainty regarding economic policy measures of governments and central banks, the financial markets including equity markets around the world were faced with severe meltdowns. This similar behavior was observed in other markets including equity and commodity markets, resulting in overall uncertainty. In this scenario, the investors normally flock toward the safe-haven assets to protect their investment. In normal situations, investors seek to diversify or hedge their assets to protect their portfolios. However, the financial markets are negatively impacted when there are global uncertainties. Diversification and hedging methods fail to safeguard investors’ portfolios during instability because almost all sectors and assets are negatively affected (Hasan et al., 2021). As a result, investors typically look for safe-haven investments to safeguard their portfolios under extreme conditions (Ceylan, 2022). Baur and Lucey (2010) provide the following definitions of hedge, diversifier, and safe haven: Hedge: An asset that, on average, has no correlation or a negative correlation with another asset or portfolio. On average, a strict hedge has a (strictly) negative correlation with another asset or portfolio.Diversifier: An asset that, on average, has a positive correlation (but not perfect correlation) with another asset or portfolio. Safe haven: This is the asset that in times of market stress or volatility becomes uncorrelated or negatively associated with other assets or a portfolio. As was previously indicated, the significant market turbulence caused by a sharp decline in consumer spending, coupled with insufficient hedging opportunities, was a common feature of all markets during these times (Yousaf et al., 2022). Nakamoto (2008) suggested a remedy by introducing Bitcoin, a “digital currency,” as an alternative to traditional fiduciary currencies (Paule-Vianez et al., 2020). Bitcoin often described as “Digital Gold” has shown greater resilience during periods of crises and has highlighted the potential safe haven and hedging property against uncertainties (Mokni, 2021). According to Dyhrberg (2016), the GFC has eased the emergence of Bitcoin thereby strengthening its popularity. Bouri et al. (2017) in their study indicate that Bitcoin has been viewed as a shelter from global uncertainties caused by conventional banking and economic systems. Recent research has found that Bitcoin is a weak safe haven, particularly in periods of market uncertainty like the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) crisis (Conlon & McGee, 2020; Nagy & Benedek, 2021; Shahzad et al., 2019; Syuhada et al., 2022). In contrast to these findings, a study by Yan et al. (2022) indicates that it can function as a strong safe haven in favorable economic times and with low-risk aversion. Ustaoglu (2022) also supports the strong safe-haven characteristic of Bitcoin against most emerging stock market indices during the COVID-19 period. Umar et al. (2023) assert that Bitcoin and Gold are not reliable safe-havens. Singh et al. (2024) in their study reveal that Bitcoin is an effective hedge for investments in Nifty-50, Sensex, GBP–INR, and JPY–INR, at the same time a good diversifier for Gold. The study suggests that investors can incorporate Bitcoin in their portfolios as a good hedge against market volatility in equities and commodities markets. During the COVID-19 epidemic, Barbu et al. (2022) investigated if Ethereum and Bitcoin could serve as a short-term safe haven or diversifier against stock indices and bonds. The outcomes are consistent with the research conducted by Snene Manzli et al. (2024). Both act as hybrid roles for stock market returns, diversifiers for sustainable stock market indices, and safe havens for bond markets. Notably, Bhuiyan et al. (2023) found that Bitcoin provides relatively better diversification opportunities than Gold during times of crisis. To reduce risks, Bitcoin has demonstrated a strong potential to operate as a buffer against global uncertainty and may be a useful hedging tool in addition to Gold and similar assets (Baur & Lucey, 2010; Bouri et al., 2017; Capie et al., 2005; Dyhrberg, 2015). According to Huang et al. (2021), its independence from monetary policies and minimal association with conventional financial assets allow it to have a safe-haven quality. Bitcoins have a substantial speed advantage over other assets since they are traded at high and constant frequencies with no days when trading is closed (Selmi et al., 2018). Additionally, it has been demonstrated that the average monthly volatility of Bitcoin is higher than that of Gold or a group of international currencies expressed in US dollars; nevertheless, the lowest monthly volatility of Bitcoin is lower than the maximum monthly volatility of Gold and other foreign currencies (Dwyer, 2015). Leverage effects are also evident in Bitcoin returns, which show lower volatilities in high return periods and higher volatilities in low return times (Bouri et al., 2017; Liu et al., 2017). According to recent research, Bitcoins can be used to hedge S&P 500 stocks, which increases the likelihood that institutional and retail investors will build secure portfolios (Okorie, 2020). Bitcoin demonstrates strong hedging capabilities and can complement Gold in minimizing specific market risks (Baur & Lucey, 2010). Its high-frequency and continuous trading further enrich the range of available hedging tools (Dyhrberg, 2016). Moreover, Bitcoin spot and futures markets exhibit similarities to traditional financial markets. In the post-COVID-19 period, Zhang et al. (2021) found that Bitcoin futures outperform Gold futures.Gold, silver, palladium, and platinum were among the most common precious metals utilized as safe-haven investments. Gold is one such asset that is used extensively (Salisu et al., 2021). Their study tested the safe-haven property of Gold against the downside risk of portfolios during the pandemic. Empirical results have also shown that Gold functions as a safe haven for only 15 trading days, meaning that holding Gold for longer than this period would result in losses to investors. This explains why investors buy Gold on days of negative returns and sell it when market prospects turn positive and volatility decreases (Baur & Lucey, 2010). In their study, Kumar et al. (2023) tried to analyse the trends in volume throughout futures contracts and investigate the connection between open interest, volume, and price for bullion and base metal futures in India. Liu et al. (2016) in their study found that there is no negative association between Gold and the US stock market during times of extremely low or high volatility. Because of this, it is not a strong safe haven for the US stock market (Hood & Malik, 2013). Post-COVID-19, studies have provided mixed evidence on the safe-haven properties of Gold (Bouri et al., 2020; Cheema et al., 2022; Ji et al., 2020). According to Kumar and Padakandla (2022), Gold continuously demonstrates safe-haven qualities for all markets, except the NSE, both in the short and long term. During the COVID-19 episode, Gold’s effectiveness as a hedge and safe-haven instrument has been impacted (Akhtaruzzaman et al., 2021). Al-Nassar (2024) conducted a study on the hedge effectiveness of Gold and found that it is a strong hedge in the long run. Bhattacharjee et al. (2023) in their paper examined the symmetrical and asymmetrical linkage between Gold price levels and the Indian stock market returns by employing linear autoregressive distributed lag and nonlinear autoregressive distributed lag models. The results exhibit that the Indian stock market returns and Gold prices are cointegrated. According to the most recent study by Kaczmarek et al. (2022), Gold has no potential as a safe haven, despite some studies on the COVID-19 pandemic showing contradictory results. The co-movements of Bitcoin and the Chinese stock market have also normalized as a result of this epidemic (Belhassine & Karamti, 2021). Widjaja and Havidz (2023) verified that Gold was a safe haven asset during the COVID-19 pandemic, confirming the Gold’s safe-haven characteristic. As previously pointed out, investors value safe-haven investments in times of risk. Investors panic at these times when asset prices fall and move from less liquid (risky) securities to more liquid (safe) ones, such as cash, Gold, and government bonds. An asset must be bought and sold rapidly, at a known price, and for a reasonably modest cost to be considered truly safe (Smales, 2019). Therefore, we need to properly re-examine the safe-haven qualities of Gold and Bitcoin due to the mixed evidences regarding their safe-haven qualities and the impact of COVID-19 and the war in Ukraine on financial markets. This work contributes to and deviates from the body of existing literature in the following ways. We propose a novel approach in this work to evaluate an asset’s time-varying safe haven, hedge, and diversifier characteristics. This research examines the safe haven, hedging, and diversifying qualities of Gold and Bitcoin against the equity indices; S&P 500, CAC 40, and NSE 50. Through the use of rolling window estimation, we extend the methodology of Ratner and Chiu (2013) by estimating the aforementioned properties of the assets. Comparing rolling window estimation to other conventional techniques, the former will provide a more accurate representation of an asset’s time-varying feature. This study explores the conventional asset Gold’s time-varying safe haven, hedging, and diversifying qualities during crises like the COVID-19 pandemic and the conflict in Ukraine. We use Bitcoin, an unconventional safe-haven asset, for comparison. Data and Methodology We use the daily returns of three major equity indices; S&P500, CAC 40, and NSE 50 from January 3, 2018, to October 15, 2022. The equity indices were selected to represent three large and diverse markets namely the United States, France, and India in terms of geography and economic development. We assess safe-haven assets using the daily returns of Gold and Bitcoin over the same time. Equity data was collected from Yahoo Finance, Bitcoin data from coinmarketcap.com, and Gold data from the World Gold Council website. Engle (2002) developed the DCC (Dynamic Conditional Correlation)-GARCH model, which is frequently used to assess contagion amid pandemic uncertainty or crises. Time-varying variations in the conditional correlation of asset pairings can be captured using the DCC-GARCH model. Through employing this model, we can analyse the dynamic behavior of volatility spillovers. Engle’s (2002) DCC-GARCH model contains two phases; 1. Univariate GARCH model estimation2. Estimation of time-varying conditional correlation. For its explanation, mathematical characteristics, and theoretical development, see here [insert the next link in “the word here” https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/09711023251322578] Results and Discussion The outcomes of the parameters under the DCC-GARCH model for each of the asset pairs selected for the investigation are shown in Table 1.   First, we look at the dynamical conditional correlation coefficient, ρ.The rho value is negative and insignificant for NSE 50/Gold, NSE 50 /BTC, S&P500/Gold, and S&P500/BTC indicating a negative and insignificant correlation between these asset pairs, showing Gold and Bitcoin as potential hedges and safe havens. The fact that ρ is negative and significant for CAC 40/Gold suggests that Gold can be a safe haven against CAC 40 swings. The asset pair CAC/BTC, on the other hand, has possible diversifier behavior with ρ being positive but statistically insignificant. Next, we examine the behavior of the DCC-GARCH parameters; α and β. We find that αDCC is statistically insignificant for all the asset pairs, while βDCC is statistically significant for all asset pairs. βDCC quantifies the persistence feature of the correlation and the extent of the impact of volatility spillover in a particular market’s volatility dynamics. A higher βDCC value implies that a major part of the volatility dynamics can be explained by the respective market’s own past volatility. For instance, the NSE 50/Gold’s βDCC value of 0.971 shows that there is a high degree of volatility spillover between these two assets, with about 97% of market volatility being explained by the assets’ own historical values and the remainder coming from spillover. Thus, we see that the volatility spillover is highly persistent (~0.8) for all the asset pairs except NSE 50/BTC. The results above show that the nature of the dynamic correlation between the stock markets, Bitcoin and Gold is largely negative, pointing toward the possibility of Gold and Bitcoin being hedge/safe haven. However, a detailed analysis is needed to confirm the same by employing rolling window analysis, and we present the results in the forthcoming section. We present the rolling window results for S&P500 first. We present the regression results for Gold in Figure 1 and Bitcoin in Figure 2   Figure 1. Rolling Window Regression Results for S&P500 and Gold.Note: Areas shaded under factor 1 represent significant regression coefficients. In Figure 1, we examine the behavior of β0 (intercept term), β1, β2, and β3 (partial correlation coefficients). The intercept term β0 will give an idea about whether the asset is behaving as a diversifier or hedge. Here, the intercept term shows significance most of the time. However, during 2018, the intercept was negative and significant, showing that it could serve as a hedge during geopolitical tensions and volatilities in the global stock market. However, during the early stages of COVID-19, we show that the intercept is negative and showing statistical significance, suggesting that Gold could serve as a hedge during the initial shocks of the pandemic. These findings are contrary to the results in the study by Tarchella et al. (2024) where they found hold as a good diversifier. Later, we find the intercept to be positive and significant, indicating that Gold could act as a potential diversifier. But during the Russia-Ukraine War, Gold exhibited hedge ability again. Looking into the behavior of β1, which is the partial correlation coefficient for the tenth percentile of return distribution shows negative and insignificant during 2018. Later, it was again negative and significant during the initial phases of COVID-19, and then negative in the aftermath, indicating that Gold could act as a weak safe haven during the COVID-19 pandemic. Gold could serve as a strong safe haven for the SP500 against volatility in the markets brought on by the war in Ukraine, as we see the coefficient to be negative and large during this time. From β2 and β3, the partial correlation coefficients of the fifth and first percentile, respectively, show that Gold possesses weak safe haven properties during COVID-19 and strong safe haven behavior during the Ukraine crisis. Next, we examine the characteristics of Bitcoin as a hedge/diversifier/safe haven against the S&P500 returns. We present the results in Figure 2.   Figure 2. Rolling Window Regression Results for S&P500 and Bitcoin.Note: Areas shaded under factor 1 represent significant regression coefficients. Like in the previous case, we begin by analysing the behavior of the intercept coefficient, which is β0. As mentioned earlier the intercept term will give a clear picture of the asset’s hedging and diversifier property. In the period 2018–2019, the intercept term is positive but insignificant. This could be due to the large volatility in Bitcoin price movements during the period. It continues to be minimal (but positive) and insignificant during 2019–2020, indicating toward weak diversification possibility. Post-COVID-19 period, the coefficient shows the significance and positive value, displaying the diversification potential. We see that the coefficient remains positive throughout the analysis, confirming Bitcoin’s potential as a diversifier. Looking into the behavior of β1 (the partial correlation coefficient at tenth percentile), it is positive but insignificant during 2018. The coefficient is having negative sign and showing statistical significance in 2019, suggesting that Bitcoin could be a good safe haven in that year. This year was characterized by a long list of corporate scandals, uncertainties around Brexit, and tensions in global trade. We can observe that throughout the COVID-19 period, the coefficient is showing negative sign and negligible during the March 2020 market meltdown, suggesting inadequate safe-haven qualities. However, Bitcoin will regain its safe-haven property in the coming periods, as the coefficient is negative and significant in the coming months. The coefficient is negative and shows statistical significance during the Ukrainian crisis, suggesting strong safe-haven property. Only during the Ukrainian crisis could Bitcoin serve as a safe haven, according to the behavior of β2, which displays the partial correlation coefficient at the fifth percentile. Bitcoin was a weak safe haven during COVID-19 and the Ukrainian crisis, according to β3, the partial correlation coefficient for the first percentile (coefficient negative and insignificant). According to the overall findings, Gold is a stronger safe haven against the S&P 500’s swings. This result is consistent with the previous studies of Triki and Maatoug (2021), Shakil et al. (2018), Będowska-Sójka and Kliber (2021), Drake (2022), and Ghazali et al. (2020), etc. The same analysis was conducted for the CAC 40 and the NSE 50; the full analysis can be found here [insert the next link in “the word here” https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/09711023251322578]. However, it is important to highlight the respective results: In general, we may say that Gold has weak safe-haven properties considering CAC40. We can conclude that Bitcoin’s safe-haven qualities for CAC40 are weak. We can say that Gold showed weak safe-haven characteristics during the Ukraine crisis and good safe-haven characteristics for the NSE50 during COVID-19. We may say that Bitcoin exhibits weak safe haven, but strong hedging abilities to NSE50. Concluding Remarks In this study, we suggested a new method to evaluate an asset’s time-varying hedge, diversifier, and safe-haven characteristics. We propose a rolling window estimation of the DCC-based regression of Ratner and Chiu (2013). Based on this, we estimate the conventional asset’s time-varying safe haven, hedging, and diversifying properties during crises like the COVID-19 pandemic and the conflict in Ukraine. For comparison purposes, we include Bitcoin, a nonconventional safe-haven asset. We evaluate Gold and Bitcoin’s safe haven, hedging, and diversifier properties to the S&P 500, CAC 40, and NSE 50 variations. We use a rolling window of length 60 to estimate the regression. From the results, we find that Gold can be considered as a better safe haven against the fluctuations of the S&P 500. In the case of CAC 40, Gold and Bitcoin have weak safe-haven properties. While Bitcoin demonstrated strong safe-haven characteristics during the Ukraine crisis, Gold exhibited strong safe-haven characteristics during COVID-19 for the NSE 50. Overall, the findings indicate that Gold is the better safe haven. This outcome is consistent with earlier research (Będowska-Sójka & Kliber, 2021; Drake, 2022; Ghazali et al., 2020; Shakil et al., 2018; Triki & Maatoug, 2021). When it comes to Bitcoin, its safe-haven feature is weak. Bitcoin, however, works well as a diversifier and hedge. Therefore, from a policy perspective, investing in safe-haven instruments is crucial to lower the risks associated with asset ownership. Policymakers aiming to enhance the stability of financial portfolios might encourage institutional investors and other market players to incorporate Gold into their asset allocations. Gold’s strong safe-haven qualities, proven across various market conditions, make it a reliable choice. Gold’s performance during crises like COVID-19 highlights its potential to mitigate systemic risks effectively. Further, Bitcoin could also play a complementary role as a hedge and diversifier, especially during periods of significant volatility such as the Ukraine crisis. While Bitcoin’s safe-haven characteristics are relatively weaker, its inclusion in a diversified portfolio offers notable value and hence it should not be overlooked. Further, policymakers may consider how crucial it is to monitor dynamic correlations and periodically rebalance portfolios to account for shifts in the safe haven and hedging characteristics of certain assets. Such measures could help reduce the risks of over-reliance on a single asset type and create more resilient portfolios that can better withstand global economic shocks. For future research, studies can be conducted on the estimation of the rolling window with different widths. This is important to understand how the safe-haven property changes across different holding periods. Further, more equity markets would be included to account for the differences in market capitalization and index constituents. This study can be extended by testing these properties for multi-asset portfolios as well. We intend to take up this study in these directions in the future. Data Availability StatementNot applicable.Declaration of Conflicting InterestsThe authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.FundingThe authors received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.ReferencesAkhtaruzzaman M., Boubaker S., Lucey B. M., & Sensoy A. (2021). Is gold a hedge or a safe-haven asset in the COVID-19 crisis? Economic Modelling, 102, 105588. Crossref. Web of Science.Al-Nassar N. S. (2024). Can gold hedge against inflation in the UAE? A nonlinear ARDL analysis in the presence of structural breaks. PSU Research Review, 8(1), 151–166. Crossref.Barbu T. C., Boitan I. A., & Cepoi C. O. (2022). Are cryptocurrencies safe havens during the COVID-19 pandemic? A threshold regression perspective with pandemic-related benchmarks. Economics and Business Review, 8(2), 29–49. 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Diplomacy
Xi Jinping with Ursula von der Leyen and Antonio Costa (July 2025)

25th EU-China Summit in Beijing

by Johann C. Fuhrmann , Dr. Olaf Wientzek , Jonas Nitschke

A Sobering Anniversary Fifty years of diplomatic relations – and little to celebrate: The 25th EU-China Summit, held in Beijing on July 24, was overshadowed by deep disagreements. From trade disputes to China’s stance on Russia’s war in Ukraine, expectations on both sides were low. While there were symbolic gestures and limited agreements on climate and critical minerals, the meeting highlighted more divergence than convergence. Xi Jinping appeared self-assured; the EU delegation emphasized clarity and unity – but left without substantive concessions. Abstract: The 25th EU-China Summit marked a symbolic milestone – 50 years of diplomatic relations – yet took place in an atmosphere of growing mistrust and confrontation. Geopolitical tensions, an ever-growing trade imbalance, and China’s ongoing support for Russia’s war in Ukraine dominated the agenda. The EU delegation, led by Commission President Ursula von der Leyen and Council President António Costa, sought to recalibrate the relationship and push for concrete outcomes, particularly in trade and global security. Yet Beijing showed little willingness to make concessions. Although both sides agreed on a climate communiqué and a mechanism to address export restrictions on critical raw materials, progress remained limited. China framed the summit as a platform for global cooperation, while the EU left with a renewed sense of caution. Still, the in-person dialogue – the first since 2023 – was seen as diplomatically necessary. For Brussels, the message was clear: without a shift in China’s geopolitical posture, especially towards Russia, meaningful improvement in relations remains elusive. 1. Background The fundamental importance of the relationship was repeatedly emphasized in the run-up to the summit; the EU and China account for nearly 30 percent of global trade in goods and services. Even though there was a slight decline in 2024, bilateral trade still amounted to over 700 billion euros. China is the EU’s second-largest trading partner after the United States.[1] At the same time, discordant tones have increased in recent years: the flooding of the European market with subsidized goods from China, the resulting growing trade imbalance between the two sides, the limitation of market access for European goods, as well as export restrictions on rare earths, are causing dissatisfaction on the European side. While Brussels initially proclaimed at the start of the first von der Leyen Commission that China was—depending on the topic—a partner, competitor, or rival, in recent years the focus has increasingly shifted to competition and rivalry—also due to concerns about excessive dependence on Beijing. The EU’s decision to impose countervailing duties on electric vehicles, in turn, triggered corresponding reactions from China. Politically as well, China’s de facto support for Russia in the war of aggression against Ukraine has significantly changed the EU’s perception of China over the past three years—not to mention concerns about China’s actions toward Taiwan, its support for authoritarian regimes around the world, and its attempts to increasingly shape and shift the discourse in multilateral organizations in its own favor. The statement made in June by Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi that China could not afford a Russian defeat, as this would mean that the USA and its Western allies would then turn their attention to Asia[2], reinforced the conviction in Brussels that China supports Russia in the conflict not only in words but also in deeds. Just a few days before the summit, the EU imposed sanctions on Chinese banks for violations of sanctions against Russia, to which China responded with threats of retaliatory measures.[3] In the weeks leading up to the summit, little suggested a resolution to these points of contention. The tougher stance taken by Washington toward both sides in recent months also did not lead to a reduction in dissonance. At the same time, the EU finds itself increasingly under pressure to navigate a balancing act between the strategic interests of the USA and China. China is courting with investments in favor of more “strategic autonomy,” while the USA is pushing for a hard line against Beijing, for example through export controls on critical raw materials. At the G7 summit in Canada, President von der Leyen accused China of using its dominance in raw materials as a weapon against competitors.[4] Beijing rejected the criticism. In Brussels, the fight against climate change is seen as the only somewhat consensual topic, although in the field of green tech—such as electric vehicles or photovoltaics—China is a competitor that challenges the EU. As the controversial vote on tariffs for electric vehicles also showed, EU member states are not always united when it comes to China.[5] Some primarily view China as an important economic partner, others struggle with China’s punitive tariffs, still others see the country as an authoritarian center of gravity that, through support for Russia or through cyberattacks, threatens their own security. Most recently, alongside Hungary—which has been regarded for years as one of Beijing’s closest partners in the EU—the socialist government of Spain also stood out with a charm offensive toward China. The difficulties in the relationship with China have prompted the EU—especially in the new legislative term—to noticeably diversify its economic and political foreign relations: directly before the EU-China summit, closer cooperation was agreed with Japan—also with the goal of reducing strategic dependence on China.[6] 2. Expectations for the Summit On the Chinese side, expectations for the summit were limited from the outset—at least in terms of making their own concessions. In its official communications, Beijing adopted an unusually sharp tone in the lead-up. The spokesperson of the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Guo Jiakun, warned the EU not to harm the interests of Chinese companies. Otherwise, China would take measures to protect their rights. At the same time, Guo criticized the new EU sanctions against Russia, which also affect Chinese banks. The normal exchange between Chinese and Russian companies must not be disrupted. Beijing continues to reject the EU’s formula “partner, competitor, systemic rival”—as well as, from the Chinese perspective, unfounded accusations related to the war in Ukraine.[7] This clear defensive posture is also reflected in the public debate. In state-controlled social media, the summit was sometimes mockingly commented on in advance: the Europeans, it was said, would be begging for rare earths on their knees while a strong China benevolently dictated the rules of the game. This self-portrayal reflects a growing sense of self-confidence in Beijing—and at the same time sends a signal: China does not see itself as a supplicant, but as a shaper. Specifically, Beijing hopes for a withdrawal of the new EU import tariffs on Chinese electric vehicles, for which, according to the Chinese side, they are in the final stages of “price negotiations.” From the perspective of European officials, however, the process has been stagnating for months. Further points of friction lie in China’s response to European sanctions—such as the recent imposition of punitive tariffs on French cognac and new restrictions on the procurement of medical equipment. The looming action against European milk and pork exports also fits into this pattern. At the same time, Beijing highlights the fruits of decades of cooperation: bilateral trade has grown from 2.4 billion to nearly 786 billion US dollars over the past 50 years, and mutual investments have reached nearly 260 billion. President Xi Jinping therefore called on the EU to maintain “open cooperation.” “Decoupling” or even “building walls” would only lead to isolation, he warned. China is therefore insisting on further market access in Europe—particularly in key areas such as automobile manufacturing, high-tech, and medical technology—and sees itself increasingly discriminated against by European protective measures. The preliminary reporting on the meeting in state media, however, was predictably conciliatory. The focus was primarily on powerful imagery, portraying China as a responsible actor on the global stage. In a report by the state news agency Xinhua shortly before the summit, it was stated that the meeting offered an opportunity to “consolidate the common interests of China and Europe in a time of global upheaval.” China Daily also struck a cooperative tone on July 24 and warned against endangering the relationship “through protectionist reflexes or foreign policy proxy conflicts.” Europe, the paper said literally, must decide whether it will “continue to make independent strategic decisions—or blindly follow Washington’s course.”[8] What remains unmentioned in China’s narrative is that many of these shared goals currently exist primarily on paper. Accusations regarding competition-distorting subsidies, China’s role in the war in Ukraine, or restrictions on European companies are at best dismissed as misunderstandings. From Beijing’s perspective, the summit appeared to be primarily a diplomatic showcase—rather than a venue for tangible rapprochement. 3. Expectations of the EU Whoever on the EU side may have expected major breakthroughs in light of the anniversary was likely disillusioned by early July at the latest: the reduction of the summit, originally scheduled for two days, to just a single day was an initial dampener; the statements from Chinese ministerial officials and top EU personnel in the weeks leading up to the summit did not suggest that anything fundamental would change regarding the divergences in foreign, economic, and trade policy. The EU is seeking a rebalancing of the relationship. According to Commission President von der Leyen ahead of the summit, the relationship had reached a turning point and now required concrete solutions. Among the EU’s top priorities in the economic sphere are: the rollback of China’s punitive tariffs, measures to reduce the massive trade deficit and counter the redirection of Chinese overcapacities toward the European market, the creation of a level playing field, and export licensing requirements for critical raw materials.[9] In the weeks prior to the summit, there were no signs of Chinese willingness to accommodate any of these demands. Expectations were equally low with regard to geopolitical conflicts, even though the EU’s High Representative had again clearly appealed to China in early July to end its support for Russia. Observers no longer expected a comprehensive joint communiqué ahead of the summit; at most, a joint statement on climate policy with regard to COP30 in Belém, Brazil, was still considered possible. The prevailing opinion: the primary goal was to contain the worsening of relations. Some observers still hoped for minor progress on economic issues. At least there were some diplomatic signals from Beijing in the run-up to the EU-China summit. For example, Mikko Huotari, Director of the German think tank Merics, was allowed to travel to China for the first time in four years. Merics had been subjected to a travel ban in 2021 as part of Chinese counter-sanctions against the EU over its human rights criticism regarding Xinjiang. The lifting of sanctions against individual (former) EU parliamentarians was also interpreted in Brussels as a positive political signal.[10] However, a full lifting of the sanctions is still pending, and travel currently remains possible only under certain conditions—such as by invitation from Chinese institutions, without a guarantee of academic freedom. Observers emphasized that these relaxations were “low-cost” concessions for China. 4. Outcomes of the Summit The low expectations ahead of the summit were at least not disappointed.[11] In their choice of words before and after the summit, both sides made efforts to maintain a respectful tone. Commission President von der Leyen and European Council President Costa did address the well-known critical issues (the need for concrete solutions to recalibrate trade relations, market access for European companies, an end to China’s material support for Russia’s war), but at the same time emphasized the immense importance of the relationship, the shared responsibility for a rules-based international order, and expressed respect for China’s tremendous achievements over the past years and decades.[12] Xi Jinping, on the other hand, did not directly address the divergences between the two sides at all, but instead highlighted the importance of mutual respect, the consolidation of cooperation, an open approach to differences of opinion, and collaboration at the multilateral level. Contrary to some particularly pessimistic forecasts, there were two reasonably concrete outcomes at the summit: First, a supply mechanism for rare earth exports is to be established in order to address supply issues faced by European companies. This would allow companies to contact the EU directly to clarify the causes of delayed exports of critical raw materials.[13] It remains unclear exactly what this mechanism will look like in practice. Second, both sides agreed on a communiqué on climate policy, in which both reaffirmed their cooperation in the climate sector, including on the reduction of greenhouse gases. The communiqué expresses support for the Paris Agreement and the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change. Both sides commit to fair and effective implementation in line with national circumstances. The goal is to advance a just global climate transformation, to support Brazil at COP30, and to improve global access to green technology. By COP30, both sides agreed to present new climate targets for 2035 and to expand cooperation in areas such as the energy transition, methane reduction, and low-carbon technologies.[14] Small steps forward were also made toward closer cooperation in emissions trading, the circular economy, financial regulation, drug control, and geographical indications. A new roadmap for regional policy (2024–2029) was adopted. On the sidelines of the summit, a roundtable was also held with around sixty representatives of European and Chinese companies. In its post-summit remarks, the EU expressed concern about China’s opaque data protection rules and cyberattacks. It also voiced concern about the situation in Xinjiang, Tibet, and Hong Kong, as well as the persecution of human rights defenders. Furthermore, the EU expressed concern about tensions in the Taiwan Strait and the East and South China Seas. It rejected any unilateral violent changes to the status quo and called for peaceful solutions in accordance with international law.[15] 5. Outlook Despite all divergences, the tone in public communication remained at least respectful. However, the summit yielded hardly any tangible progress—particularly in the trade issues central to Brussels. As expected, the EU departed without any concrete commitments. Whether the announced mechanism for rare earth exports will provide substantial added value remains to be seen. From the EU's perspective, the summit confirmed one thing above all: the increasingly skeptical—at times alarmed—view of China remains unchanged. Beijing showed no willingness to make substantial concessions. Instead, the Chinese leadership demonstrated confidence and conveyed the message that it need not act in advance toward a weakened Europe. At the same time, the EU succeeded in clearly articulating key concerns—particularly the expectation that Beijing should use its influence on Moscow to enable progress toward peace negotiations. The clear message: China’s relationship with Russia will play a decisive role in future EU-China relations. One positive aspect from Brussels’ point of view: the appearances of Commission President von der Leyen, Council President Costa, and Estonian Prime Minister Kallas came across as coherent and well-coordinated—an important signal of European unity in difficult times. In addition, according to von der Leyen, the Chinese leadership has begun to address domestic industrial overcapacities under the term “involution.” The latter was regarded as another positive development from a European perspective. Until now, Chinese representatives had consistently denied in talks that the massive overcapacities posed any problem, according to media reports from EU circles.[16] Now, President Xi Jinping and Premier Li Qiang have declared their intent to counteract this trend—against what they perceive as a destructive price war in sectors such as steel, electric mobility, and solar panels. The leadership uses the term “involution” to describe the increasingly intense competition caused by price dumping. Even though some observers hailed the joint climate communiqué as a success, from the EU’s perspective it should be clear: in the field of green tech, China causes massive market distortions through state subsidies and targeted industrial policy—with the goal of creating new global dependencies. Nevertheless, it is undoubtedly important that the summit took place. One must assume that the political system in China—similar to Russia or the Trump administration—functions like an echo chamber; that Xi Jinping likely hears little internal criticism. “That’s why it’s important that the EU leadership tells him directly where the shoe pinches,” emphasized Jörg Wuttke, longtime president of the European Chamber of Commerce.[17] At the same time, it speaks volumes about the state of the relationship when even the mere act of speaking with the EU’s second most important trading partner is regarded as a success of the summit. References[1] https://policy.trade.ec.europa.eu/eu-trade-relationships-country-and-region/countries-and-regions/china_en[2] Exclusive | China tells EU it does not want to see Russia lose its war in Ukraine: sources | South China Morning Post[3] Neue Russland-Sanktionen: China droht EU mit Gegenmaßnahmen | tagesschau.de[4] Präsidentin von der Leyen beim G7-Gipfel[5] https://www.kas.de/en/web/mned-bruessel/global-europe-illustrated/detail/-/content/global-europe-illustrated-eu-member-states-voting-on-tariffs-ev-china[6] AGENCE EUROPE - Faced with economic and security challenges, EU emphasises i...[7] Vgl. China.Table: EU-Gipfel: Pekinger Außenministerium schlägt härtere Töne an, 23.07.2025.[8] Link zu Chinadaily[9] Handelskonflikt: China verursacht Rohstoffkrise – Erste Firmen drosseln Produktion[10] Sanctioned German China expert visits Beijing in sign of easing restrictions | South China Morning Post[11] Andere Zusammenfassungen finden sich hier: https://agenceurope.eu/en/bulletin/article/13687/1 oder in diesem Thread: https://x.com/fbermingham/status/1948242830595391697[12] EU warns China to push Putin to end war as relations hit ‘inflection point’ – POLITICO, die Pressekonferenz ist auch hier zu finden: https://newsroom.consilium.europa.eu/permalink/264159 , https://newsroom.consilium.europa.eu/permalink/264160[13] EU-China-Gipfel: Probleme bei Seltenen Erden gelöst?[14] Joint EU-China press statement on climate[15] 25th EU-China summit - EU press release - Consilium[16] Vgl. China.Table: EU-China-Gipfel: Peking will gegen Überkapazitäten vorgehen, 25.07.2025.[17] Experte Wuttke über EU-China-Gipfel: "Xi will Europa dominieren"

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. (2022); Chilosi and Ciccarelli (2021); De Corso (2013); de la Escosura (2009); Díaz-Bahamonde, Lüders, and Wagner (2007); Eloranta, Voutilainen, and Nummela (2016); Fourie and Van Zanden (2013); Fukao et al. (2015); Fukao, Ma, and Yuan (2007); Gregory (2004); Grytten (2015); Herranz-Loncán and Peres-Cajías (2016); Ivanov (2008); Kostelenos et al. (2007); Krantz (2017); Malanima (2011); Malinowski and van Zanden (2017); Markevich and Harrison (2011); Milanovic (2011); Pamuk and Shatzmiller (2011); Pamuk (2006); Prados De la Escosura (2017); Ridolfi (2017); Santamaría (2005); Scheidel and Friesen (2009); Schön and Krantz (2016); Shah (2017); Smits, Horlings, and Van Zanden (2000); Stohr (2016); Sugimoto (2011); Van Zanden (2012); Van Zanden and Van Leeuwen (2012); Ward and Devereux (2012); Wu (2013); Xu et al. (2017).ReferencesAbad Leticia Arroyo, Luiten Jan, Zanden Van. 2016. Growth under extractive institutions? Latin American per capita GDP in colonial times. 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Energy & Economics
Global business connection concept. Double exposure world map on capital financial city and trading graph background. Elements of this image furnished by NASA

Liaison countries as foreign trade bridge builders in the geo-economic turnaround

by Eva Willer

Introduction Geopolitical tensions are making global trade increasingly difficult. In order to reduce the associated risk of default, companies are shifting their trade relations to trading partners that are politically similar to them. In the course of the beginnings of geo-economic fragmentation, politically and economically like-minded countries are also gaining in importance for German and European decision-makers. Liaison countries1 in particular can form a counterforce to the trend towards polarization in foreign trade - especially between the USA and China: they are characterized by a pronounced economic and trade policy openness that overrides differences between geopolitical or ideological camps. Consequently, the question arises: How can relevant connecting countries for Germany and Europe be identified? What opportunities and risks do closer trade relations with these countries offer in order to strengthen foreign trade resilience in geopolitically uncertain times?  With a high degree of openness - defined as the sum of imports and exports in relation to gross domestic product - of over 80 percent2 , the German economy is strongly integrated into global trade. Accordingly, the disruptive effect of geo-economic fragmentation on the German economy would be above average. The defensive strategy to strengthen Germany's economic security by pushing for trade policy independence would only reinforce geo-economic fragmentation. Against the backdrop of comparatively high economic vulnerability, it is necessary to focus on those potential partner countries with which German and European foreign trade could be developed and expanded even under the condition of increasing fragmentation.  Geoeconomic Fragmentation  The term "geo-economic fragmentation" is used to describe the politically motivated reorganization of global goods and financial flows, in which strategic, economic and political interests primarily determine the choice of countries of origin and destination for trade flows.3 In the scenario of geo-economic fragmentation, the result would be the formation of a bloc within the global community of states, which would fundamentally change the regulatory structure of global economic networking. In this case, trade and investment would probably concentrate from a previously diverse range of economic partner countries - prior to the formation of the bloc - on those countries that now - since the formation of the bloc - belong to the same bloc.  The likelihood of this scenario occurring and leading to an increased fragmentation of the global economic order has increased again in the recent past. For example, Donald Trump's second term as US president is causing increasing geopolitical uncertainty worldwide.  Statements on the concrete form of a possible demarcation of potential blocs are subject to a great deal of uncertainty. However, the division of a large part of the global economy into a "US bloc" and a "China bloc" is a conceivable scenario for which German politics and business should prepare.  Data already shows that, at a global level, foreign trade openness has decreased in the recent past. Data from the World Trade Organization (WTO) illustrates the increasing hurdles in global trade in goods. While 3.1% of global imports were still affected by tariff or non-tariff barriers to trade in 2016 - including under WTO rules - this figure rose to 11.8% in 2024 over the following years.4 This development goes hand in hand with a noticeable loss of importance and enforcement of the WTO since the 2010s, which previously played a central role as the guardian of the rules-based global economic order.  Studies by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) have already found indications of an incipient geo-economic fragmentation along potential bloc borders. It shows that trade in goods and foreign direct investment between countries that would belong to the opposing camp in the event of a bloc formation declined on average in 2022 and 2023 - in contrast to foreign trade between countries that are geopolitically close.5  In this initial phase of geo-economic fragmentation, liaison countries are beginning to establish themselves as a counterforce, holding the fragmenting global community of states together with new trade and investment routes.  Identification of liaison countries Specifically, liaison countries have the following characteristics: a pronounced openness to foreign trade in the form of a high foreign trade quota and low tariff and non-tariff trade barriers, as well as pronounced economic relations with partner countries from different geopolitical camps. The geopolitical orientation of countries can be examined using data on voting behavior within the United Nations.6 This involves analyzing whether a country can be assigned to the US or Chinese camp - or whether there is no pronounced proximity and therefore political neutrality or "non-alignment" in the sense of ideological independence. The data-based identification of connecting countries is relatively new. Empirical analyses are also limited to connecting countries in the context of US-Chinese foreign trade - specifically US imports from China. In this case, the characteristics of a connecting country can be broken down into (1) "non-alignment" - i.e. a geopolitical distance to both a Western and an Eastern bloc - as well as (2) an increase in imports and foreign investment from China and (3) a simultaneous increase in exports to the United States. In a narrower sense, this is an evasive reaction to trade restrictions, i.e. circumventing trade. If the foreign trade indicators - specifically the trade and investment data relating to the US and China - of "non-aligned" countries for the period from 2017 to 2020 show corresponding characteristic-related changes compared to previous years, these can be identified as countries connecting the US and China.  The analysis of trade data shows that the value of direct exports from China to the USA fell during Donald Trump's first term in office. At the same time, both Chinese exports to some of the "non-aligned" countries and exports from these countries to the USA have increased significantly. These countries have presumably stepped in as a link on the export route from China to the US after the previously direct trade flow was interrupted by trade barriers and had to find a new route. Companies producing in China are therefore likely to have sought new, indirect ways to maintain access to the US sales market.  A certain statistical inaccuracy in the foreign trade data makes it difficult to draw a definitive conclusion in this context. It should be noted: No single commodity can be tracked across national borders in trade data collection. Whether the additional goods imported from China actually found their way to the United States can only be assumed approximately. However, if the trade flows are aggregated, a clearer picture emerges and the circumvention trade via selected connecting countries - including Vietnam and Mexico - becomes visible.  Data on foreign direct investment rounds off the analysis.7 "Non-aligned" countries in which an increase in Chinese investment can be seen between 2016 and 2020 in addition to trade flows can be identified as connecting countries. Here, too, available data suggests that the companies concerned either exported their goods to the United States via a stopover or even outsourced parts of their production destined for the US market to connecting countries. Five connecting countries between the US and China Based on the 2017-2020 study period, various connecting countries can be empirically identified that were used to indirectly maintain access to the US market. In terms of foreign trade volume, the economically most important connecting countries include Mexico, Vietnam, Poland, Morocco and Indonesia.8 All five countries are characterized by the fact that both their exports of goods to the US and their imports of goods from China increased significantly between 2017 and 2020. In addition, greenfield investments (foreign direct investment to set up a new production facility) have risen significantly compared to the period before 2017.  However, the five countries show different priorities in their development, which differentiate them in their role as connecting countries between the USA and China. In Vietnam, exports to the USA in particular have risen sharply. China has been the most important procurement market for Vietnamese companies for years. Poland, Mexico and Indonesia are characterized as connecting countries primarily by the significant increase in imports from China. Morocco, in turn, was able to attract more Chinese foreign investment in particular. Greenfield investments have almost tripled here since 2017. However, Poland - a rather surprising candidate for the role of liaison country, as it is intuitively assigned to the US-oriented bloc - is positioned fairly centrally between the US and China according to the analysis of voting behavior within the United Nations9. In addition, Poland qualifies primarily due to the sharp rise in greenfield investments from China, primarily in the expansion of domestic battery production.10  It cannot be concluded from the previous studies on the USA and China whether German companies are also circumventing trade barriers from the USA via the countries identified. As the trade policy conflicts between the US and China differ significantly from those between the EU and China, there has been a lack of comparable empirical data to analyze connecting countries in the EU context. Opportunities and challenges As the German economy is strongly oriented towards foreign trade and is closely networked with both the USA and China, German companies play a particularly exposed role in the area of tension between the USA and China. Increased economic exchange with potential connecting countries would offer German companies an opportunity to mitigate the expected shock of a geopolitical bloc. They could at least maintain international trade to a certain extent and thus secure some of the endangered sales and procurement markets. On the other hand, there are also costs associated with expanding foreign trade relations with potential connecting countries. The greater complexity also increases the risk in the value chains. Companies that position themselves wisely within this trade-off buy themselves valuable time in the event of a shock to reorganize themselves against the backdrop of changed foreign trade conditions.  From the perspective of foreign trade policy, it is also possible to examine the extent to which stronger foreign trade cooperation with (potential) connecting countries could have advantages. The trade-off between resilience and complexity must then be assessed at a macroeconomic level, beyond individual company interests. In order to make it easier for companies to connect to potential connecting countries and to create appropriate framework conditions, German and European policy can build on existing comprehensive strategies at national and European level. Both the China Strategy11 and the National Security Strategy12 focus foreign policy on connecting countries as part of a stronger economic and political risk diversification. There is also a similar framework at European level with the EU's Strategic Compass13 . Following on from this, the German government could create targeted incentives to open up new markets in liaison countries, which would diversify critical supply chains and reduce one-sided dependencies.  At the same time, connecting countries pose a challenge. These can be used to circumvent foreign trade measures such as sanctions if flows of goods can find alternative routes via connecting countries more easily than before.  In order to realize opportunities and overcome challenges, close cooperation between science, politics and companies is required. This first requires the identification of a selection of potential connecting countries through scientifically sound analysis. This creates the basis for the subsequent steps in which European and German policymakers work closely with companies to create attractive framework conditions for trade with potential connecting countries - for example through bilateral trade agreements.  Attractive foreign trade framework conditions can create the necessary incentive to actually expand trade relations with potential connecting countries. Companies need to weigh up individual cases and make forward-looking decisions: To what extent is there a risk of a loss of production triggered by geopolitical conflicts? And how much would the complexity of the value chain increase if more potential connecting countries were included? Ultimately, the actual choice of preferred sales and procurement markets lies with the individual companies. LicenseThis work is licensed under CC BY 4.0 References1. Verbindungsländer werden im Sinne von Connectors verstanden, vgl. Gita Gopinath/Pierre-Olivier Gourinchas/Andrea F Presbitero/Petia Topalova, Changing Global Linkages: A New Cold War?, Washington, D.C.: IMF, April 2024 (IMF Working Paper) <https://www.imf.org/en/Publications/WP/Issues/2024/04/05/Changing-Global-Linkages-A-New-ColdWar-547357/>. 2. Statistisches Bundesamt (Destatis), Außenwirtschaft. 2025, <https://www.destatis.de/DE/Themen/Wirtschaft/Globalisierungsindikatoren/aussenwirtschaft.html#246 078/>.  3. Shekahar Aiyar/Franziska Ohnsorge, Geoeconomic Fragmentation and ‚Connector’ Countries, Online verfügbar unter:  <https://mpra.ub.uni-muenchen.de/121726/1/MPRA_paper_121726.pdf>.4. WTO, WTO Trade Monitoring Report, Genf, November 2024, <https://www.wto.org/english/tratop_e/tpr_e/factsheet_dec24_e.pdf/>. 5. Gita Gopinath/Pierre-Olivier Gourinchas/Andrea F Presbitero/Petia Topalova, Changing Global Linkages: A New Cold War?, Washington, D.C.: IMF, April 2024 (IMF Working Paper) <https://www.imf.org/en/Publications/WP/Issues/2024/04/05/Changing-Global-Linkages-A-New-ColdWar-547357/>.  6. Michael A. Bailey/Anton Strezhnev/Erik Voeten, »Estimating Dynamic State Preferences from United Nations Voting Data«, Journal of Conflict Resolution, 61 (2017) 2, S. 430-456, <https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/0022002715595700/>.7. Gita Gopinath/Pierre-Olivier Gourinchas/Andrea F Presbitero/Petia Topalova, Changing Global Linkages: A New Cold War?, Washington, D.C.: IMF, April 2024 (IMF Working Paper) <https://www.imf.org/en/Publications/WP/Issues/2024/04/05/Changing-Global-Linkages-A-New-ColdWar-547357/>. War-547357. 8. Enda Curran/Shawn Donnan/Maeva Cousin, »These Five Countries are Key Economic ‚Connectors‘ in a Fragmenting World«, in Bloomberg (online), 1.11.2023, <https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2023-1102/vietnam-poland-mexico-morocco-benefit-from-us-china-tensions/>.9. Michael A. Bailey/Anton Strezhnev/Erik Voeten, »Estimating Dynamic State Preferences from United Nations Voting Data«, Journal of Conflict Resolution, 61 (2017) 2, S. 430-456, <https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/0022002715595700/>.  10. Enda Curran/Shawn Donnan/Maeva Cousin, »These Five Countries are Key Economic ‚Connectors‘ in a Fragmenting World«, in Bloomberg (online), 1.11.2023, <https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/202311-02/vietnam-poland-mexico-morocco-benefit-from-us-china-tensions/>.11. Auswärtiges Amt, China‐Strategie der Bundesregierung, Berlin, Juli 2023, <https://www.auswaertigesamt.de/resource/blob/2608578/810fdade376b1467f20bdb697b2acd58/china-strategie-data.pdf/>.  12. Auswärtiges Amt, Integrierte Sicherheit für Deutschland: Nationale Sicherheitsstrategie, Berlin, Juni 2023, <https://www.bmvg.de/resource/blob/5636374/38287252c5442b786ac5d0036ebb237b/nationalesicherheitsstrategie-data.pdf/>.  13. Rat der Europäischen Union, Ein Strategischer Kompass für Sicherheit und Verteidigung, Brüssel, März 2022, <https://data.consilium.europa.eu/doc/document/ST-7371-2022-INIT/de/pdf/>.

Defense & Security
LNG plant based on gravity type with a gas carrier. The Arctic LNG-2 project. Utrennoye deposit, Yamalo-Nenets Autonomous Region, Russia. 3d rendering

Securing the ‘great white shield’? Climate change, Arctic security and the geopolitics of solar geoengineering

by Nikolaj Kornbech , Olaf Corry , Duncan McLaren

Abstract The Arctic has been identified by scientists as a relatively promising venue for controversial ‘solar geoengineering’ – technical schemes to reflect more sunlight to counteract global warming. Yet contemporary regional security dynamics and the relative (in)significance of climate concerns among the key Arctic states suggest a different conclusion. By systematically juxtaposing recently published schemes for Arctic geoengineering with Arctic security strategies published by the littoral Arctic states and China, we reveal and detail two conflicting security imaginaries. Geoengineering schemes scientifically securitise (and seek to maintain) the Arctic’s ‘great white shield’ to protect ‘global’ humanity against climate tipping points and invoke a past era of Arctic ‘exceptionality’ to suggest greater political feasibility for research interventions here. Meanwhile, state security imaginaries understand the contemporary Arctic as an increasingly contested region of considerable geopolitical peril and economic opportunity as temperatures rise. Alongside the entangled history of science with geopolitics in the region, this suggests that geoengineering schemes in the Arctic are unlikely to follow scientific visions, and unless co-opted into competitive, extractivist state security imaginaries, may prove entirely infeasible. Moreover, if the Arctic is the ‘best-case’ for geoengineering politics, this places a huge question mark over the feasibility of other, more global prospects. Introduction ‘The Arctic region plays a key role in the global climate system acting as a carbon sink and a virtual mirror’ (Carnegie Climate Governance Initiative (C2G), 2021: 1) – thus reads a typical introduction to the rationale for solar geoengineering (SG) in the Arctic. To most, SG – any large-scale intervention that seeks to counteract anthropogenic global warming by reflecting sunlight – is still an obscure idea. However, it is quickly gaining traction among some groups of climate scientists, entrepreneurs and even some governments as climate impacts provoke an ever-increasing sense of alarm and urgency. Debates concerning potential governance of SG routinely acknowledge its potential international governance challenges, but have tended to leave security dimensions mostly unexamined (but see Nightingale and Cairns, 2014), usually by framing the challenge primarily in terms of coordinating efforts and dealing with potentially unwanted side effects (Corry et al., forthcoming). While climate change itself is often understood as a potential security threat, it has not yet motivated exceptional or decisive state action, but rather seems to produce a series of routine practices through which ‘climate change is rendered governable as an issue of human security’ (Oels, 2012: 201). Geoengineering could potentially change this situation. The potentially high-leverage, transboundary nature of large-scale SG has led to suggestions that it would involve disagreements over the methods and intensity of interventions (Ricke et al., 2013) and could lead to international conflicts, not least from uni- or ‘mini’-lateral deployment (Lockyer and Symons, 2019). In addition, with its potential to make climatic changes and catastrophes attributable to (or able to be blamed on) the direct and intentional actions of states, SG could also make the rest of climate politics a more conflictual field (Corry, 2017b). Other scholars have examined geoengineering itself through a human security frame – recently developed as ‘ecological security’ with ecosystems as the main referent object (McDonald, 2023), where the insecurity arising from climate change is seen to go beyond the particularity of state interests. This casts geoengineering as a potential ecological security measure, or even as a potentially ‘just’ one, if it would protect groups otherwise vulnerable to climate threats (Floyd, 2023). However, the entanglement of geoengineering, even if framed as an ‘ecological security’ measure, with national and international security dynamics, would remain a distinct risk, in similar ways to how humanitarian aid and development have become entangled with, and for some historically inseparable from, security (Duffield, 2007). In this article, we seek to move beyond theoretical speculation about the International Relations of geoengineering abstracted from historical or regional security dynamics, using a case study of the Arctic to investigate how geoengineering might (not) enter this political space and to derive conclusions of broader relevance to the international debate. We make use of the empirical richness revealed by schemes for Arctic geoengineering to identify how security imaginaries – ‘map[s] of social space’ (Pretorius, 2008: 112) reflecting common understandings and expectations about security – are already implicit in scientific and technical visions of geoengineering. We contrast these scientific security imaginaries with current state security imaginaries that play a dominant role in the anticipation of Arctic futures more generally. As we will show, scientific security imaginaries consider the Arctic as a best case for geoengineering in terms of political feasibility. This allows for analytical inference based on critical case selection (Flyvbjerg, 2006): if even in the Arctic these scientific security imaginaries have little compatibility with current state security imaginaries, geoengineering faces major obstacles of political feasibility in other regions and globally, unless deployed in pursuit of security rather than global environmental protection. Many different ideas for SG have been explored as ways to cool the Arctic. These include marine cloud brightening (MCB): spraying salts from sea vessels to make marine clouds more reflective (Latham et al., 2014) or covering ocean or ice surfaces with reflective materials (Field et al., 2018). Related ideas involve using wind power to pump water onto ice to help thicken it (Desch et al., 2017), underwater ‘curtains’ to protect ice from warmer water streams (Moore et al., 2018) or reintroducing large animals to graze and trample so that dark boreal forest is replaced by reflective snow-cover, protecting permafrost (Beer et al., 2020).1 The technique of stratospheric aerosol injection (SAI) – spraying reflective aerosols like sulphur or calcite into the stratosphere – is also included as an option by some organisations working with Arctic geoengineering2 or explored in simulations or other research (Jackson et al., 2015; Lane et al., 2007; Robock et al., 2008). In practice, however, aerosols distributed in or near the Arctic would likely spread over much of the Northern hemisphere, and model studies of Arctic-targeted SAI generally conclude that is it not a desirable option due to particularly severe negative side effects outside the Arctic (Duffey et al., 2023). While geoengineering scientists seek to distance their work from geopolitical concerns (Svensson and Pasgaard, 2019), scientific research in the Arctic – even that involving cooperation between Cold War adversaries – has long been deeply entangled with state security objectives and military interests (Doel et al., 2014; Goossen, 2020). Similarly, weather modification schemes have a history of (largely failed) entanglement with military purposes (Fleming, 2010), while climate modelling evolved partly through and with military scenario-making (Edwards, 2010). Climate modelling occupies a more civilian location in multilateral institutions now but still shares its particular way of seeing the climate – as a space of geophysical flows – with a military gaze (Allan, 2017). More importantly, the interrelated environmental, economic and geopolitical interests in opening up the Arctic that are emerging with global warming make for a particular set of contradictions and tensions in the region that we argue will be much more likely than global environmental concerns to determine what role (if any) geoengineering could or would play. Arctic SG ideas are emerging largely oblivious to this context, which is understandable, but makes for an interesting comparative analysis that, as will we show, raises questions concerning the overall feasibility of SG in the Arctic, especially deployment of it in line with scientific imaginaries. Since scientific literature tends to be central to governance-oriented assessments of SG (e.g. National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine, 2021), a mismatch between assumptions has potentially serious policy implications, not least in terms of overall feasibility, which in turn augments risks of such schemes failing and contributing to mitigation deterrence (when they were hoped or planned for, delaying emissions reductions (McLaren, 2016)). Attention to the geopolitical complexities of Arctic geoengineering could prevent scientific work being translated into policy prescriptions in unintended ways or having unexpected effects – if the complexities can be foregrounded when interpreting such work and be considered in designing future research. Approach We analyse both Arctic geoengineering schemes and state strategies for the Arctic as security imaginaries. This concept draws on Charles Taylor’s (2004) notion of the social imaginary, ‘the ways people imagine their social existence, how they fit together with others, how things go on between them and their fellows, the expectations that are normally met, and the deeper normative notions and images that underlie these expectations’ (p. 23). Imaginaries, in this sense, are worldviews – sets of assumptions that may or may not correspond to social reality but affect it in significant and material ways. They are not simply subjective constructions to be weighed against some objective reality, but (often competing) ways of constructing and institutionalising the world. Following Pretorius (2008), a security imaginary is then ‘that part of the social imaginary as “a map of social space” that is specific to society’s common understanding and expectations about security and makes practices related to security possible’ (p. 112). Regrettably, social imaginaries are often theorised through ‘internalism’: as if a society is determined by factors originating within that society alone (Rosenberg, 2016).3 This makes it difficult to explain why different societies often have similar security imaginaries. By breaking with internalism, national imaginaries can be understood as inherently international in the sense that they are deeply affected by coexistence with other societies. For Pretorius (2008), ‘the security imaginary is . . . open to influence from perceptions, beliefs and understandings of other societies about security’ due to ‘trans-societal exchanges’ such as travel (p. 112). But in a deeper way, the mere existence of multiple societies is fundamental to the whole idea of (national) security (Rosenberg, 2016). In addition, if the Arctic is considered a ‘regional security complex’ (Lanteigne, 2016) such that the security imaginary of societies in a region ‘cannot be reasonably analysed or resolved independently of each other’ (Buzan and Wæver, 2003: 44), then relations between societies become constitutive, even, of security imaginaries of that region. Scientific communities – in this case geoengineering researchers – can produce a different ‘map of social space’ from national ones, since the groups (in one version ‘epistemic communities’ (Haas, 1992)) producing these are not necessarily national, and use different tools and concepts than national security communities. At the same time, scientists are rarely unaffected by their backgrounds, and their technical and conceptual tools for producing such a ‘map’ reflect traces from state priorities and international structures, including colonial legacies (Mahony and Hulme, 2018). State and scientific security imaginaries are thus distinct but not separate, and as we shall see, they can clash or draw upon each other, often implicitly. The security imaginary concept captures three important characteristics of our empirical materials. First, geoengineering ideas and state security strategies are performative (rather than purely descriptive) in their anticipation of (Arctic) futures (Anderson, 2010). Second, they are based on understandings of social order which merge factual and normative claims – what is and what should be (Taylor, 2004). Third, they construct threats and necessary responses in terms of the security of that social order, irrespective of whether those threats are of a military nature or otherwise (e.g. a climatic threat); in other words, they can securitise a variety of referent objects (Buzan et al., 1998). In investigating scientific and state security imaginaries, we focus on the difference in the construction of two objects: climate and the international order. We ask: how is the ‘Arctic climate’ articulated and made legible in relation to the planetary climate and other factors, and further, how is the Arctic climate problematised and related to concerns of desirable or undesirable futures? What political, economic and international infrastructures are presumed? In sum, what threatens and what defends Arctic and international order? To explore the security imaginaries of Arctic geoengineering, we gathered materials that construct Arctic futures through searches in the peer-reviewed literature with the search terms ‘Arctic’ and ‘geoengineering’ using , as well as search hits on the term ‘Arctic’ in the archive of the Climate Engineering Newsletter run by the Kiel Earth Institute,4 which also covers grey literature and press coverage on the topic.5 We manually excluded texts exclusively focused on carbon removal forms of geoengineering, except those with positive effects on the surface albedo. For the state security imaginaries of the Arctic, we consulted policy documents and other official government publications looking for the most recent policy statement in each of the littoral states: Canada, the United States, Russia, Norway and Denmark (which controls the security and foreign policy of Greenland) concerning their respective Arctic security strategy.6 Public documents are often used as data in security studies as testaments to state preferences or intentions, despite the often performative character of such documents. Such documents generally attempt to portray the institutions that produce them as competent and coherent – and of value to particular external audiences. As such they are potentially unreliable as sources for underlying intentions, levels of capacity and commitment behind policy goals. However, as documents set out to perform a future which is seen as desirable – either by the authors themselves or the audiences they appeal to – they are a useful guide to the underlying assumptions of social and international order guiding Arctic security politics – the state security imaginaries, in other words. We therefore study them for their performative content, with particular emphasis on the intended audiences and messages (Coffey, 2014). Similarly, geoengineering publications also perform a material and political Arctic future to advance scientific or research agendas, and we therefore analyse the underlying imaginary of their desired futures, without prejudice to the climatological or technical feasibility of the envisioned schemes. However, as the imaginaries of many researchers typically invoke global benefits from Arctic geoengineering, in particular through preventing tipping events, it bears mentioning that recent literature questions these benefits. Research indicates that that some techniques (ice restoration in particular) would have limited impacts on the global climate (Van Wijngaarden et al., 2024; Webster and Warren, 2022; Zampieri and Goessling, 2019), and a recent comprehensive review finds only limited support for the claim that Arctic sea ice is a tipping element in the climate system (Lenton et al., 2023: 58–60, 66–68). Even so, it should not be assumed that scientific considerations alone will drive decisions to geoengineer the Arctic, and the growing interest in these ideas makes it important to examine their political imaginaries. Finally, we must acknowledge the highly consequential difference in the power to securitise between the actors which produce the imaginaries. The state apparatuses producing the state security imaginaries are more aligned with, and therefore more likely to influence, actors with the power to securitise (Floyd, 2021). We read both sets of imaginaries in this light. The ‘great white shield’: scientific security imaginaries In geoengineering studies and policy papers, the Arctic is foremost understood as a part of the global climate system (Corry, 2017a), with focus placed on potential tipping points in terms of alarming above-average warming, the sea ice albedo feedback and the potential release of methane and carbon dioxide from thawing permafrost or undersea clathrates. These may push the Earth into feedback cycles of further warming. The Arctic is therefore seen as a ‘great white shield’ for the global climate, but a fragile one: ‘the weakest link in the chain of climate protection’ (Zaelke, 2019: 241). Many of those advocating exploration of Arctic geoengineering argue that emissions cannot be reduced in time to prevent tipping points. One paper contends that cryospheric tipping points ‘are essentially too late to address by standard political processes [for climate management]’ (Moore et al., 2021: 109). This pessimistic assessment spawns a complementary opposite: hopes that geoengineering might prove especially feasible and desirable in the Arctic, with associated aspirations for near-term experimentation and potential deployment. One researcher coined the term ‘Arctic Premium’, arguing that the particular climatic characteristics of the region will enable ‘a dividend for regionally based climate interventions that could be less expensive, more effective and achieve faster results than if they were targeted over the whole earth’ (Littlemore, 2021: 2) – the Arctic imagined as an effective and relatively accessible lever for operating on the global climate system as a whole.7 While regional benefits such as the preservation of ice-dependent Indigenous ways of life are sometimes mentioned (Moore et al., 2021: 110), this tends to occur when regional benefits align with what are understood as global climatic interests. This instrumental attitude can also be seen in proposals that, echoing some of the early literature on SG (Lane et al., 2007; Robock et al., 2008), see the Arctic as a testing ground. These include ‘SCoPEx’, which would have tested SAI equipment over Indigenous Sámi land, and the suggested use of the Sermeq Kujalleq glacier in Greenland – Inuit territory – as a prototype for more substantial glacial geoengineering in the Antarctic. The Sermeq Kujalleq proposal is justified on the basis of ‘fewer global environmental impacts’, despite the considerable amount of local socio-environmental impacts and acknowledgement that ‘the reactions of local people would be mixed’ (Moore et al., 2018: 304). In a quote that sums up the assessment of most researchers Bodansky and Hunt (2020) argue that ‘as bad as Arctic melting is for the Arctic itself, its global effects are more concerning’ (p. 601). The concern with global effects infuses scientific security imaginaries with urgency. The ostensible ‘speed’ (Zaelke, 2019: 244) of SG is contrasted with the slowness of politics, emissions reductions and large-scale carbon removal.8 In many cases, such invocations of urgency lead to claims that geoengineering is necessary: that ‘excluding polar ice restoration could make the 1.5° C goal impossible to achieve’ (Field et al., 2018: 883) or that ‘more and more people see geoengineering as a necessity more than an option, making it a matter of when rather than if’ (Barclay, 2021: 4). One proposal notes that ‘these are expensive propositions, but within the means of governments to carry out on a scale comparable to the Manhattan Project’ (Desch et al., 2017: 121); others also specify funding by rich states as the way to move forward on research and deployment (Moore et al., 2021). The urgent threat of Arctic climate change is seen as a job for decisive state action, and thus, it is argued to be salient in so far as it appears as a universal threat to state interests. At the same time, the causes of climate change are downplayed and depoliticised across the literature. Attributing climate change to emissions from ‘human societies’ (Beer et al., 2020: 1), the literature frames out the vastly unequal responsibility for climate change and the social and economic dynamics driving historical and continued emissions.9 One policy paper neglects social causes of climate change altogether, contrasting geoengineering only to ‘conventional mitigation policies’ (Bodansky and Hunt, 2020: 597) and ‘decarbonisation of the global economy’ (p. 616). In this way, Arctic climate change is constructed as a global security threat, seen as stemming from the ‘tight couplings within global systems, processes, and networks’ (Miller, 2015: 278) rather than the actions of any specific group of humans, and as a threat to global ‘human security’ and therefore not subject to the division and distrust of international politics. In this, the imaginary resembles much liberal environmentalism in International Relations, characterised by a ‘global cosmopolitanism’ which does not seriously engage with inequalities of power and intersocietal difference (Chandler et al., 2018: 200). This imaginary is probably adopted to construct scenarios for technical research, since it fits neatly with modelling tools that produce visions of geoengineering in purely technical Earth system terms. But the liberal imaginary also shapes assessments of political feasibility and could impinge on the technical design of geoengineering schemes, including in ways that can be hard to unpick when the research enters the political sphere. Most publications entirely omit considerations of state security, including some papers that focus on governance (Bodansky and Hunt, 2020; Moore et al., 2021). The mentions of security that do exist are brief and vague: C2G (2021) notes that ‘evidence suggests potential security issues may arise’ (p. 2) in the case of SAI. Another paper notes as an example of ‘geo-political . . . friction’ that ‘Arctic regions such as Russia, Alaska and the Canadian Yukon would be providing a global public good . . . which would add a major new dimension to international relations’ (Macias-Fauria et al., 2020: 10), suggesting that geoengineering can be adequately grasped through rationalist decision frameworks where global public goods offer non-rival and universal benefits, which is disputed (Gardiner, 2013). In the research, the omission of geopolitics is justified by relegating it as a problem which only concerns the ostensibly more controversial techniques such as SAI deployed globally. There is a hope that ‘Arctic interventions pose less of a governance challenge than global climate interventions’ (Bodansky and Hunt, 2020: 609). This rests on the twin claim that the physical effects of Arctic interventions will be more limited and therefore less risky and that the Arctic’s political environment is more conducive to geoengineering than the ‘global’ polity as a whole. In terms of physical effects, many Arctic interventions are argued to be ‘low-risk’ (Barclay, 2021: 4) due to fewer and less severe environmental side effects. What Zaelke (2019) calls ‘soft geoengineering’ (p. 243) approaches are presented as ‘more natural’ (Littlemore, 2021: 2) than the most commonly considered SG techniques such as SAI or MCB which involve physical and chemical manipulation of the atmosphere.10 In particular, efforts to restore sea ice without atmospheric interventions are promoted highlighting the ostensibly more ‘natural’ character of their intervention (Field et al., 2018: 899). ‘Unlike other [SG] methods, thickening sea ice is attractive because it merely enhances a naturally ongoing process in the Arctic’, claims one proponent (Desch et al., 2017: 112). Efforts at ecological intervention in ecosystems to halt permafrost thaw are also described as ‘a return to a more “natural state”’ (Moore et al., 2021: 111). ‘Soft’ geoengineering concepts are in many cases linked to discourses of conservation, with the sometimes-explicit expectation that this will make them more benign and less politically controversial: ‘Since it is rooted in the preservation of the existing state rather than introducing new and undeniably controversial elements into the atmosphere, it likely presents easier governance challenges’ (Moore et al., 2021: 116). Such distinctions between ‘natural’ and ‘unnatural’ interventions may well facilitate cooperation around some methods, but notions of ‘natural’ are also situated, making distinctions inevitably difficult to maintain in practice. While aiming to preserve select parts of the Arctic environment (such as land ice, sea ice or permafrost), geoengineering interventions will likely also introduce significant changes and risks to Arctic ecosystems (Miller et al., 2020; Van Wijngaarden et al., 2024).11 In this way, ostensibly ‘natural’ Arctic interventions would lead to unprecedented anthropogenic – and for others therefore ‘unnatural’ – impacts on ecosystems in the Arctic and possibly beyond, since remote impacts are plausible but not yet well understood.12 This reveals an imaginary prevalent among proponents of Arctic geoengineering, where a distinct construction of ‘natural’ emerges to bridge aspirations of technical manipulation of the climate with what scientists see as palatable to (or believe to be) social ideals of ‘nature’. In addition, the adjectives used to describe ‘soft’ geoengineering – ‘targeted’ (Moore et al., 2021: 108), ‘localized’ (Latham et al., 2014: 3), ‘reversible’ (Barclay, 2021: 4) and ‘intelligent’ (Field et al., 2018: 900), all point to an imaginary where aspirations towards the ‘natural’ are combined with expectations of fine-grained, scientifically calibrated control. As Zaelke (2019) explicitly suggests, ‘in other words, we have control over soft geoengineering’ (p. 243) – the ‘we’ here left ambiguous. The idea of having a relatively large degree of control originates in restraint vis-a-vis ‘global’ SG, in that it recognises large risks from attempting to control the global climate system as such. But this sense of fine-grained control may also encourage more Promethean dreams of a ‘designer climate’ (Oomen, 2021), as speculation over future possibilities of ‘fine-tun[ing] the flows of heat, air and water’ using localised MCB indicates (Latham et al., 2014: 10). In terms of the Arctic’s political environment, discourse on the feasibility of geoengineering reveals further elements of a liberal imaginary, relying on (existing or imagined) international law and institutions, distributive justice and consequentialist ethics (Baiman, 2021; Barclay, 2021), a focus on cost minimisation (Desch et al., 2017; Field et al., 2018) and market-based approaches such as payments for ecological services (Moore et al., 2021) or carbon credits (Macias-Fauria et al., 2020) in the implementation of geoengineering schemes. Taken together, such measures rather well resemble a ‘liberal cosmopolitan framework through the advocacy of managerialism rather than transformation; the top-down coercive approach of international law; and use of abstract modernist political categories’ (Chandler et al., 2018: 190). Distributive notions of justice and consequentialist ethics are arguably also at the root of claims that local populations in the Arctic, including its Indigenous peoples, may be uniquely receptive to geoengineering schemes. While many advocate public engagement (Desch et al., 2017; Macias-Fauria et al., 2020) and stress that ‘Northern people who use and depend upon the existing landscape need a strong voice’ (Littlemore, 2021: 3), there is a general expectation that such engagement will not be prohibitively conflictual. One policy scholar suggested that ‘given that Northern people are already seeing the effects of climate change, the North may be a place for a more pragmatic, constructive, and legitimate deliberative discussion on Arctic interventions’ (Ted Parson, quoted in Littlemore, 2021: 5). Other researchers have concluded that using SAI would conserve ‘indigenous habits and lifestyles’ in the Arctic (Chen et al., 2020: 1) as a direct consequence of reducing permafrost thaw. These assumptions were strained by the SCoPEx controversy, where the Sámi Council strongly opposed the experiment planned in their territory (Cooper, 2023). Equally, Arctic populations (Indigenous and non-Indigenous) have varied interests that cannot be assumed to be oriented to preventing or reversing Arctic climatic change, some seeing new opportunities for economic development and potentially political independence in the case of Greenland (Jacobsen, 2020). Political feasibility of geoengineering plans is often assessed through legal analyses that weigh up specific techniques and target environments in relation to existing treaties and other legal regimes (Barclay, 2021; Bodansky and Hunt, 2020). Some place hope in techniques such as permafrost/glacier preservation that may be deployed within the bounds of a single nation’s territory, which would, in their view, sidestep the need for international governance altogether: ‘for example, Russian and Canadian policies could change the carbon released from thawing permafrost. Similarly, Greenland’s ice sheet would be the primary responsibility of the Greenlanders’ (Moore et al., 2021: 109). While such techniques might be localised in effect, and only intended to slow climate feedback effects such as the rate of ice loss, inclusion of such measures in market credit schemes, as attempted by the Real Ice project,13 could prove controversial and under some conditions undermine any SG-based climate effect (Fearnehough et al., 2020: Chapter 3). For cross-border geoengineering schemes, the Arctic Council14 is in some cases highlighted as a favourable site for governance (Desch et al., 2017). One paper calls it an ‘obvious institution’ for international governance of Arctic geoengineering in general, contending that ‘because of its relatively small size, the Arctic Council has been a relatively effective forum to develop regional policies relating to the Arctic’ (Bodansky and Hunt, 2020: 610). However, in a later article, one of the authors described the Arctic Council as ‘an informal institution that lacks any regulatory powers and shows no signs of being up to the task of taking significant action’ on Arctic climate change (Bodansky and Pomerance, 2021: 2). Moore et al. (2021) similarly contend that ‘the Arctic Council is not a true international organization with rule-making power’ (p. 113). Yet Moore et al. (2021) still argue the Arctic is a politically tractable space for geoengineering due to the low number of states that would need to come to an agreement – in contrast to global SG which ‘would ideally need at least near-global consensus’ (p. 109). This reveals an important complexity in the concept of globality that permeates the geoengineering imaginaries. While the Arctic, as we showed above, is instrumentalised for a global community – operated on to mitigate climatic effects across the planet – it is also differentiated from ‘global interventions’ that take the global Earth system as their direct object of intervention (Bodansky and Hunt, 2020: 597). As Moore et al. (2021) state explicitly, ‘targeted geoengineering is done on regional scales but aims to conserve the various parts of the global climate and earth system’ (p. 109). The politically salient objects are imagined to be the methods of intervention, spatially bounded in the Arctic region while the intended global climatic effects are in effect rendered unproblematic and therefore without need for governance. Arguably this reflects a common assumption that governance is only relevant in the case of ‘adverse or unintended effects’ (Barclay, 2021: 5) – the intended effect of albedo modification implicitly understood as an unambiguous global public good. On a technical level, this assumption is questionable – since remote consequences of Arctic geoengineering are not yet well understood. But more crucially, the assumption projects exactly those liberal rationalist norms which are argued to be especially present in the Arctic on to the wider geopolitical context. The specific imaginary constructed to justify regional geoengineering interventions as politically feasible while still being part of a global solution to climate change cannot work without a general liberal imaginary of international politics. Otherwise, the global effects of regional interventions would threaten to undo the validity of the ‘regional feasibility’ argument. Arctic state security imaginaries The history of scientific research in the Arctic reveals the liberal security imaginaries underlying Arctic geoengineering to be a relatively recent phenomenon. Doel et al. (2014) describe the intertwinement of 20th-century Arctic research projects and three broad state goals, shared to varying degrees by all littoral states: national security, exploitation of natural resources and extension of territorial sovereignty to disputed areas. When intercontinental and submarine-launched ballistic nuclear missiles were introduced from the late 1950s, the Arctic became a ‘buffer zone’ between the Cold War powers, experiencing a continuous period with low military activity and absence of conflict that likely paved a way for increased cooperation after the Cold War, with Mikhail Gorbachev famously declaring the Arctic a ‘zone of peace’ (Gjørv and Hodgson, 2019: 2). The Arctic came to be seen as an ‘exceptional’ region in the post-Cold War period, where institutionalised multilateral cooperation on regional issues, particularly environmental and scientific activities, could blossom (Lackenbauer and Dean, 2020). In this section, we examine recent state strategies and developments in the Arctic to assess the contours of the current leading security imaginary among Arctic states. The key characteristic of Arctic exceptionalism is that geopolitical conflicts and tensions from outside the Arctic are excluded from affecting cooperation on internal Arctic issues and that, as a corollary, specifically ‘Arctic issues’ are compartmentalised: ‘Actors . . . can talk about everything except contentious issues, not least military security’ (Gjørv and Hodgson, 2019: 3, original emphasis). However, this compartmentalisation is hard to find in recent state assessments. The US emphasised in 2019 that ‘The Arctic remains vulnerable to “strategic spillover” from tensions, competition, or conflict arising in these other regions’ (United States Department of Defense (USDOD), 2019: 6). In 2020, the Danish Minister for Foreign Affairs spoke of ‘a new security-political dynamic in the region. Disagreements and conflicts originating in other areas of the world are also being expressed in the Arctic’ (Kofod, 2020: 1).15 For the four North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) members in the Arctic littoral, such concerns were obviously directed at the only non-NATO state: Russia (even before the invasion of Ukraine). Denmark expressed concern over ‘the Russian build-up of military capabilities’ (Kofod, 2020: 2); Norway stated that ‘Russian build-up of forces and military modernisation can challenge the security of Norway and allied countries directly’ (Royal Ministry of Foreign Affairs (RMFA), 2020: 23) and cited the Russian annexation of Crimea as a key moment in increased tensions and deteriorating optimism regarding peaceful cooperation in the Arctic (RMFA, 2020: 10). Russia, for its part, described ‘military buildup by foreign states in the Arctic and an increase of the potential for conflict in the region’ as a ‘challenge’ (Office of the President of the Russian Federation (OPRF), 2020: 5). Among the NATO states, these assessments have for several years been accompanied by a call for deeper military cooperation. Denmark has pledged to ‘support NATO’s role in the Arctic and the North Atlantic’ (Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Denmark, 2022: 23), a change from previous strategy documents which stressed that ‘enforcement of the realm’s sovereignty is fundamentally the responsibility of the realm’s authorities’ (Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Denmark, Greenland and the Faroe Islands, 2011: 20). Canada aims to ‘increase surveillance and monitoring of the broader Arctic region’ in collaboration with the United States, Denmark and Norway (Government of Canada, 2019: 77), while Norway in 2021 negotiated a deal with the United States to allow it access to two Arctic military installations – the Ramsund Naval Base and the Evenes Airfield. Trust has only deteriorated further since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022. All Arctic Council member states except Russia announced they would suspend participation in council meetings because of the invasion, subsequently announcing a ‘limited resumption’ of projects without Russian participation (Global Affairs Canada, 2022). The recent US Arctic strategy describes ‘increasing strategic competition in the Arctic . . . exacerbated by Russia’s unprovoked war in Ukraine’ (The White House, 2022: 3) and claimed that ‘Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine has rendered government-to-government cooperation with Russia in the Arctic virtually impossible at present’ (The White House, 2022: 14). Russia interprets Arctic politics on similar terms; the Arctic ambassador has stated that the Finnish and Swedish bids to join NATO ‘will of course lead to certain adjustments in the development of high altitude [sic] cooperation’ (quoted in Staalesen, 2022). This dynamic of de-exceptionalisation, where the Arctic is increasingly reintegrated into great power politics, is the contemporary context in which the littoral states interpret the region’s present and future climatic changes. The state goals associated with early and mid-20th century Arctic science are reappearing as a background for envisioning the impact of climate change. Of the three goals identified by Doel et al. (2014), assertion over disputed territories is arguably of lesser importance today. All states have indicated a willingness to settle territorial continental shelf disputes via international law, and such statements are generally accepted by commentators as genuine (Østhagen, 2018). But the goals of military national security and extraction of natural resources are growing in salience, and changing in character, as the ice melts and the permafrost thaws. In contrast to the geoengineering literature, climate change is rarely addressed as a primary threat in state policies but described in more restricted terms. Adaptation problems from ‘sea-ice loss, permafrost thaw and land erosion’ (Government of Canada, 2019: 63) are emphasised, and both Canada (Government of Canada, 2019: 18) and Norway (RMFA, 2020: 14) describe climate change as a cultural threat to Indigenous peoples. Nonetheless, the task of emission reductions does not figure as a specifically Arctic objective (e.g. RMFA, 2020: 14). In this way, climate change figures less as a problem that must urgently be dealt with and more as an unavoidable condition of Arctic politics. In the context of military security objectives, climate change is understood primarily as a driver of increased navigability and accessibility of the Arctic. The US Navy anticipates an increasingly ice-free ‘blue Arctic’, where ‘peace and prosperity will be increasingly challenged by Russia and China, whose interests and values differ dramatically from ours’ (United States Department of the Navy, 2021: 2). Cold War-era interpretations of the Arctic’s geographical significance are being reinvigorated: Canada stresses the importance of maintaining air and missile capabilities in its Arctic region due to its location along the shortest path from Russian to US territory (Government of Canada, 2019: 77). And as the region becomes more accessible, it rises in strategic importance. The US Department of Defense presents the Arctic as ‘a potential corridor – between the Indo-Pacific and Europe, and the U.S. homeland – for expanded strategic competitions’ (USDOD, 2019: 6) and stresses that ‘maintaining freedoms of navigation and overflight are critical to ensuring that . . . U.S. forces retain the global mobility guaranteed under international law’ (USDOD, 2019: 13). The increased accessibility of the Arctic also brings new hopes of further use of the region’s natural resources as a vehicle for economic growth (Keil, 2014). Such goals have become intertwined with development discourses and policies that focus on lack of modern infrastructure, low employment and population decline and, in this way, align the economic objectives of faraway capitals with local concerns. Canada aims to ‘close the gaps and divides that exist between this region, particularly in relation to its Indigenous peoples, and the rest of the country’ (Government of Canada, 2019: 36) and presents these gaps in a consumerist national imaginary where being ‘full participants in Canadian society’ means having ‘access to the same services, opportunities and standards of living as those enjoyed by other Canadians’ (Government of Canada, 2019: 36). The Russian government frames its Arctic policy goals in terms of avoiding a dystopia of a depopulated region lacking economic growth, and such fears are directly presented in security terms: ‘population decline’ and ‘insufficient development’ of infrastructure and business are named ‘primary threats to national security’ (OPRF, 2020: 4–5). In Norway, Northern depopulation is presented as a key concern to be addressed through investment in public education and business infrastructure (RMFA, 2020: 11). The emphasis in such ‘development’ is on natural resources such as fossil fuels and rare earth minerals, trans-Arctic shipping routes and tourism. Russia is particularly clear in its focus on fossil fuels; ‘increasing oil and gas extraction rates, advancing oil refining, and producing liquefied natural gas and gas-chemical products’ are considered ‘primary objectives for the economic development of the Arctic zone’ (OPRF, 2020: 7). The development of the Northern Sea Route as a ‘competitive national transportation passage in the world market’ is named a ‘primary’ Russian national interest (OPRF, 2020: 4). Other states also emphasise ‘new economic opportunities, for example in the form of new maritime routes and extraction of natural resources’ (Kofod, 2020: 1). In some states, the role of fossil fuels in extractive ambitions is arguably receding. In its previous Arctic strategy, the US anticipated the Arctic’s role in ‘future United States energy security’ through its ‘proved and potential oil and gas natural resources that will likely continue to provide valuable supplies to meet U.S. energy needs’ (The White House, 2013: 7). Now, ‘the Arctic’s significant deposits of in-demand minerals essential to key technology supply chains’ (The White House, 2022: 6) have ostensibly replaced fossil fuels as the main extractive interest. Yet such shifts leave intact visions of major extractive operations dependent on (or facilitated by) a warming Arctic. More generally, there is an assumption of compatibility between interests in extractivism and economic growth and climate and environmental policies. Imagined futures contain ‘safe and environmentally-responsible shipping’ (Government of Canada, 2019: 49), ‘the sustainable use of natural resources’ (OPRF, 2020: 9) and ‘sustainable tourism’ (Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Denmark, Greenland and the Faroe Islands, 2011: 24). Technological innovation is, unsurprisingly, anticipated as the main way to realise the sustainability of these activities. In contrast to this assumed compatibility with environmental objectives, the economic opportunities are portrayed as in need of protection against interests from other states. The US expresses commitment to protect ‘freedom of navigation’ in the Arctic against perceived Russian threats, alleging that Russia ‘is attempting to constrain freedom of navigation through its excessive maritime claims along the Northern Sea Route’ (The White House, 2022: 6). As described above, this interest in freedom of navigation is partly military, but also acts to protect an economic order. The US argues for ‘a shared interest in a peaceful and stable region that allows the Arctic nations to realise the potential benefits of greater access to the region’s resources’ (USDOD, 2019: 4), underpinned by US military power. Russia, for its part, has named ‘actions by foreign states and (or) international organizations to obstruct the Russian Federation’s legitimate economic or other activities in the Arctic’ a ‘primary challenge to national security’ (OPRF, 2020: 5). Here, China is also constructed by Western states as an economic security threat. While under the President Biden, the US threat perception in the Arctic appears to have shifted to an almost exclusive focus on Russia (The White House, 2022); the prior Trump administration indicated strong concerns that ‘China is attempting to gain a role in the Arctic in ways that may undermine international rules and norms, and there is a risk that its predatory economic behavior globally may be repeated in the Arctic’ (USDOD, 2019: 6), a sentiment shared by Denmark and Norway (Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Denmark, 2022: 23; RMFA, 2020: 11). China is certainly explicit about its ambitions in the Arctic, which it portrays as an increasingly ‘global’ space. It argues that due to the changing environment and increased accessibility, ‘the Arctic situation now goes beyond its original inter-Arctic States or regional nature’, and the stress on ‘global implications’ is used to justify China’s identification as a ‘Near-Arctic State’ and ‘important stakeholder in Arctic affairs’ (english.gov.cn, 2018). Yet contrary to the impression given by Western states, Chinese material and institutional visions for the future are strikingly similar to those of the littoral states: development of shipping routes, materials extraction and tourism under promises of sustainable development and governed by international law (english.gov.cn, 2018). Hence, the mistrust expressed by other states does not concern explicit differences in visions of Arctic futures. Rather, the imaginary of economic development is securitised along the lines of geopolitical blocs, with economic cooperation across these blocs rendered problematic. Implications for the security politics of solar geoengineering Our analysis has revealed stark differences between scientific security imaginaries in the geoengineering literature and the security imaginaries of Arctic states. First, climate change is constructed as a concern in different ways. In the scientific imaginaries, climate change, and especially the prospect of Arctic tipping points, are front and centre. The Arctic is primarily interpreted through its climate-restorative potential, as imagined through computational Earth system models that imagine futures of controlled Arctic climates – and by extension, controlled global climates. By contrast, state imaginaries of the Arctic are not oriented towards preventing climate change but anticipate a mixture of desirable and undesirable outcomes from rising temperatures, which are seen as an inevitable background for the region’s future. Responses to climate change – such as increased demand for rare earth minerals – are becoming issues of concern and questions of security, more so than climate change itself (cf. McLaren and Corry, 2023), which stands as an unquestioned precondition for other strategic decisions. Whether the Arctic should be a venue of increased activity is not in doubt. This stands in sharp contrast to ideas of geoengineering which presuppose that hindering accessibility in the region for economic and military purposes, for example, by restoring sea ice, would be acceptable to all states involved. Second, the scientific security imaginaries exhibit a liberal institutionalist understanding of international politics and rely on a view of the Arctic as a global commons to be leveraged for the needs of an ostensible global humanity. In this, imaginaries of Arctic geoengineering do not differ from their planet-scaled counterparts (McLaren and Corry, 2021), except perhaps in the immediacy of imagined experimentation and deployment. Yet the Arctic case contains a unique contradictory claim. Geoengineering in the Arctic is justified partly by claims that it would be more politically tractable, drawing on discourses of Arctic exceptionalism that see it as a special region where inter-state cooperation on common interests can be shielded from exterior geopolitical dynamics and conflicts. But while the envisaged methods of geoengineering are bounded in the Arctic, they still aim to achieve global climatic effects.16 Prospective geoengineers thus make two further assumptions: that effects outside the Arctic are overall benign and/or that governance is only relevant in the case of unfavourable effects. The latter relies on a liberal rationalist imaginary of world politics, where costs and benefits are readily identified and acted upon, coordinated by institutions if required, undermining the initial presumption that the Arctic can be shielded from global conflictual geopolitics. Especially with the Russian invasion of Ukraine, this idea of Arctic exceptionalism is also increasingly obsolete – the Arctic is undergoing de-exceptionalisation, as indicated by the de facto collapse of the flagship of Arctic multilateralism, the Arctic Council. Schemes that envision deployment of Arctic geoengineering as market-driven are also likely to be less immune to geopolitical obstacles than their developers imagine. Such interventions assume an international order governed by multilateral institutions including markets for carbon removals or ‘cooling credits’. But even for those states which subscribe to similar liberal aspirations, this order is subject to uncertainty, in the Arctic and elsewhere, and is consequently understood as something which must be secured. The mistrust from Western states about China’s interests in the Arctic, although ostensibly similar and compatible with Western aspirations of Arctic futures, highlights the current and increasing uncertainty over the future of such a Western-dominated liberal economic order. Taken together, these differences reveal a deep disjuncture between the security imaginaries of Arctic geoengineering and state strategies. Given the relative strength of state security actors and institutions compared to environmental ones, the political feasibility of Arctic geoengineering appears to preclude a purely environmental logic driving development and/or deployment. It raises the question of which rationales and scenarios would become subject to modification – or disappear completely – to take account of economic, geopolitical, security and other aims. In this light, it is notable that there is one point of convergence between the state and scientific security imaginaries: technological solutionism. States might conceivably adopt geoengineering to partly mitigate Arctic warming (or ice degradation) while still leaving the environment accessible enough for increased resource extraction, transcontinental shipping and tourism. However, such a scenario – a form of mitigation deterrence (McLaren, 2016) – is hardly an expression of the scientific security imaginary, which, having securitised Arctic tipping points as a threat to a global humanity, sees the protection and restoration of the Arctic climate as the overarching priority. Furthermore, far from prospective geoengineers’ expectations that envision the interventions as supported by local and Indigenous populations, this scenario would further instrumentalise the Arctic to the ends of interests outside the region, which clearly amounts to a continuation and intensification of the neo-colonialism that characterises many parts of the Arctic to this day (Greaves, 2016). As clearly indicated by Sámi-led opposition to SCoPEx and opposition to the Arctic Ice Project led by Arctic Indigenous organisations,17 many Arctic Indigenous persons consider SG incompatible with their understandings of sustainability. As a case study, the Arctic provides more general lessons for SG and security. The region has attracted the attention of geoengineering researchers in part because they understand it as a political best case, and the legacy of multilateralism and science diplomacy in the region might seem to support such an assessment. However, even in a such a best case, the underlying imaginaries of geoengineering clash directly with the political ambitions of the states which would need to support, if not implement, the geoengineering interventions. In other words, SG is unlikely to be implemented for the purposes envisioned in scientific circles, in the Arctic context or elsewhere, least of all in the kind of globally ‘optimal’ manner envisaged in computer model experiments. Should further climatological research reveal SG to be technically feasible and climatically desirable – a question not yet settled – the technology would enter the quagmire of an increasingly competitive and conflictual planetary geopolitics and would need to be integrated with state policies that, for the moment, show no signs of adopting climate change as a primary issue. Our conclusions also have implications for McDonald’s (2023) contemplation of geoengineering albeit only ‘in the service of ecological security: a concern with the resilience of ecosystems themselves’ (p. 566). While McDonald acknowledges the problem of finding political purchase for making nature itself the object of security, he does not explore in detail the particular form geoengineering would take as a security measure. Here, we have studied the work of researchers and others who, arguably, invoke ecological security through appeals to necessity or emergency with Arctic ecosystems as the referent object. Through their work to develop geoengineering from general principles into workable interventions (i.e. which technique would be used, how it would be designed, who would be deploying it and where and with what purpose), they appeal to particular understandings of international security. This demonstrates how even attempts to make nature itself the referent object of security in practice depends on understandings about human societies – here theorised as imaginaries. Importantly, these scientific security imaginaries do not appear to align with state security imaginaries. In drawing our conclusions, we do not suggest that state imaginaries alone will determine the future of Arctic geoengineering. We afford them more power relative to the scientific imaginaries, since the former are backed by considerably more institutional, material and discursive power. But imaginaries are dynamic entities subject to change in unpredictable ways. There are prior examples of scientific cooperation between nations under geopolitical strife, including in the Arctic during the Cold War (Bertelsen, 2020), and a scenario where technical cooperation on SG leads to ‘spillover effects’ inducing restorative and sustainable forms of peacebuilding has been suggested as a hypothesis to be investigated (Buck, 2022). Still, there is also a long and consistent history of science being a proxy for and entangled with geopolitics and economics in the region (Doel et al., 2014; Goossen, 2020), and our analysis of Arctic de-exceptionalisation suggests that ‘geoengineering peacebuilding’ is getting increasingly unlikely as tensions continue to rise. A different vein of uncertainty concerns the internal contradictions of state security imaginaries – between the willingness to seize new opportunities for resource extraction and shipping, and other policy goals of environmental protection and national security. How these contradictions are managed, and which aspects are ultimately prioritised, will play a key role in forming the future of the Arctic (cf. Albert and Vasilache, 2018) and in deciding the opportunities for and political desirability of geoengineering interventions. Therefore, while analysing imaginaries can only take us so far in anticipating the security implications of SG, they provide an important foundation for conceptualising the very problems at stake in this anticipation. As climate impacts intensify and the incentives for geoengineering deployment increase – whether as a technocratic ‘climate policy option’ (Irvine and Keith, 2021), as a way of defending empire (Surprise, 2020) or “fossil fuel-dependent ‘ways of life’” (McLaren and Corry, 2023: 1), the imaginaries outlined in this article will be increasingly likely to collide, in the Arctic and elsewhere. AcknowledgmentsThe research for this article was part of the International Security Politics and Climate Engineering (ISPACE) project hosted at the Department of Political Science, University of Copenhagen. The authors thank the three anonymous reviewers for their insightful comments and suggestions and are grateful for comments given to an initial presentation of the research idea at the International Congress of Arctic Social Sciences (ICASS X) in June 2021. N.K. thanks the Copenhagen Center for Disaster Research for hosting him while conducting the analysis for this article in 2022.FundingThe author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This research was carried out with funding from the Independent Research Fund Denmark (Danmarks Frie Forskningsfond).Footnotes1. The latter approaches may also be categorised as ‘nature-based solutions’ or adaptation. In this sense, they are hybrid measures, and we include them here because they also directly or indirectly affect the radiation balance.2. See Centre for Climate Repair. Available at: https://www.climaterepair.cam.ac.uk/refreeze (accessed 5 March 2024).3. For an influential example of internalism, see Jasanoff (2015).4. Now, the ‘carbondioxide-removal.eu’ newsletter. Available at: https://carbondioxide-removal.eu/news/ (accessed 1 August 2023).5. Searches were conducted in the spring of 2022.6. We later chose to include China’s Arctic policy for important additional context.7. In terms of technical effectiveness, some estimates in fact suggest interventions in the Arctic may be less effective than at lower latitudes (Duffey et al., 2023).8. For the latter, see Desch et al. (2017).9. There are some limited exceptions (Baiman, 2021; Moore et al., 2021).10. Although many invocations of soft geoengineering explicitly exclude SAI and MCB, arguments that employ the core distinction between global, risky approaches and more targeted benign ones have also been used to justify Arctic-specific MCB, due to the ‘vastly reduced levels of seeding’ making negative side effects ‘vastly reduced or eliminated’ (Latham et al., 2014: 9). The former UK Chief Scientific Advisor David King has also recently referred to MCB as ‘a biomimicry system’ (The Current, 2022). While much rarer, arguments about reduced side effects have also been applied to Arctic-targeted SAI (Lee et al., 2021).11. Van Wijngaarden et al.’s full review of environmental risks is found in their supplemental compendium (https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.10602506).12. We thank an anonymous reviewer for the insight on remote impacts. In the extreme case, strong Arctic cooling without proportional cooling of the Antarctic would create a change in hemispheric heat balance which would most likely shift the Intertropical Convergence Zone southwards, leading to severe decreases in rainfall across the Sahel, parts of the Amazon and Northern India; however, this risk is usually discussed as an outcome of SAI specifically, due to its higher cooling potential (Duffey et al., 2023).13. 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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. 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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.