After Primacy: The Reordering of Alliances in a Post-American Western Bloc

The crisis imagined in Greenland is not important because of the territory itself. Its significance lies in what it would force into the open. The assumption that the West is synonymous with the United States has quietly structured global politics since 1945. Once that assumption breaks, the system does not collapse. It rebalances.

What follows is not a retreat from collective security, but its redistribution.

A reshaped NATO would emerge not through formal rupture, but through functional adaptation.

NATO’s defining feature has always been military integration under American leadership. In the post primacy phase, leadership would fragment without disappearing. The alliance would increasingly resemble a federation of security clusters rather than a single hierarchy. European command capacity would deepen. Arctic security would be governed through multilateral frameworks that deliberately limit unilateral dominance. Intelligence sharing would persist, but no longer assume uniform trust.

The United States would remain inside NATO, but no longer at its center of gravity.

This would not weaken deterrence. It would diversify it. Deterrence would rely less on the promise of overwhelming force and more on the certainty that aggression triggers coordinated exclusion, denial of access, and long term strategic isolation. NATO would become less reactive, less sentimental, and more conditional.

Security would be preserved not by loyalty, but by enforceable norms.

Parallel to this shift, a stronger economic alliance between the European Union and Canada would begin to take shape.

The logic is structural. Canada is economically integrated with the United States, but politically aligned with Europe on regulation, multilateralism, and rule based governance. As US reliability declines, Canada’s incentive to diversify deepens. Trade agreements would expand beyond goods to include energy coordination, industrial policy, research, and critical minerals. Arctic infrastructure would become a shared strategic priority rather than a bilateral vulnerability.

This would not be anti American. It would be post dependent.

The return of the United Kingdom to the European Union, while politically complex, becomes more conceivable in this environment.

Brexit was premised on a world in which the United States remained a stable anchor and global trade rules remained predictable. In a fragmented order, isolation loses its appeal. Economic gravity, regulatory coherence, and strategic relevance would pull London back toward Brussels. The argument would no longer be emotional or historical. It would be practical.

Outside the EU, the UK is exposed. Inside it, the UK is amplified.

Reintegration would not restore the pre Brexit EU. It would reshape it. A more security conscious, geopolitically assertive Europe would emerge, one less reliant on American mediation and more comfortable exercising power collectively.

As the Western bloc decentralizes, BRICS would evolve in response.

BRICS has never been a coherent alliance. It is a convergence of dissatisfaction rather than a shared project. Its internal contradictions are substantial. India and China remain strategic competitors. Brazil oscillates politically. South Africa balances aspiration with constraint. Russia has relied on confrontation to maintain relevance.

What changes in a post American West is not BRICS unity, but BRICS opportunity.

Without a US dominated Western bloc to react against, BRICS members gain room to maneuver independently. Economic experimentation increases. Regional leadership ambitions sharpen. Cooperation becomes more transactional and less ideological. The group shifts from rhetorical counterweight to pragmatic platform.

This does not produce a new bipolar order. It produces a looser multipolar field.

Russia and China, in particular, would recalibrate.

For decades, both have oriented strategy around resisting American dominance. Sanctions, military posture, and diplomatic narratives have been built on that axis. If the West ceases to function as a US proxy, that logic weakens. Europe becomes a distinct actor. Canada and parts of the Global South become independent centers of gravity.

China benefits most from this shift. Its preference has always been fragmentation over confrontation. A West that argues internally, but enforces norms collectively, is harder to demonize but easier to engage selectively. Economic statecraft replaces ideological struggle.

Russia faces a more constrained future.

Its leverage has depended on division within the West combined with American overreach. A Europe capable of autonomous defense and economic coordination leaves Moscow with fewer pressure points. Energy leverage erodes. Military intimidation loses marginal effectiveness. Russia remains disruptive, but increasingly regional rather than systemic.

The rebalancing does not eliminate conflict. It redistributes responsibility.

The defining feature of this new order is adulthood. Alliances cease to function as shelters and begin to function as contracts. Power remains uneven, but impunity is reduced. Legitimacy becomes a strategic asset rather than a rhetorical one.

The United States does not disappear from this system. It is repositioned.

It becomes a powerful participant rather than an unquestioned arbiter. When it cooperates, it is welcomed. When it coerces, it is constrained. This is not punishment. It is normalization.

The long arc of this transformation bends away from dominance and toward equilibrium.

The Greenland crisis, in this context, is remembered not as a territorial dispute, but as the moment when the post war order finally accepted what it had long resisted. Stability does not require a single center. It requires shared limits.

Once those limits are enforced, even the strongest actors must adapt.

After the Shock: Deterrence, Realignment, and the End of Assumed Leadership – Reshaping the West (Part 3) 

Once containment without war is attempted, the central question is no longer how allies respond to American aggression, but what follows if that response holds. Alliances are shaped as much by expectation as by capability. When expectations change, behavior follows.

The most immediate effect would be the collapse of assumed American indispensability.

For decades, NATO has operated on a quiet contradiction. European and Canadian allies publicly affirmed shared leadership while privately assuming that, in extremis, Washington would always anchor the system. A successful, coordinated effort to constrain a US administration would shatter that assumption. Not rhetorically, but operationally. Planning would proceed without default deference. Initiative would move outward rather than upward.

This would not mark the end of US power. It would mark the end of US exemption.

Deterrence would begin to function differently.

Traditional deterrence relies on the credible threat of force. What this crisis would demonstrate is the growing importance of denial deterrence and legitimacy deterrence. The message to future US administrations would be unambiguous. Military superiority does not guarantee political freedom of action. Aggression against allies triggers isolation, loss of access, and long term strategic diminishment.

This form of deterrence is slower, but it is cumulative. It does not require battlefield victories. It requires consistency.

Over time, American institutions themselves would begin to respond.

The United States is not monolithic. Power is distributed across federal agencies, courts, markets, states, corporations, and voters. Sustained external pressure, coupled with internal economic and diplomatic costs, would widen fractures between an aggressive executive and the broader system that depends on stability. Foreign policy isolation would bleed into domestic consequences. Investment would hesitate. Cooperation would thin. Elite consensus would fracture.

History suggests that empires rarely change course because they are defeated. They change course when the costs of dominance exceed the benefits.

For NATO and its partners, the longer term result would be structural diversification.

European defense integration would cease to be aspirational and become routine. Arctic governance would move toward multilateral control frameworks that deliberately dilute unilateral leverage. Intelligence and command structures would evolve to ensure continuity even if a major member becomes unreliable. None of this would require formal exits or dramatic declarations. It would occur through parallelism and redundancy.

The alliance would survive by becoming less centralized and less sentimental.

Globally, the signal would be unmistakable.

Russia and China would lose the ability to credibly argue that Western rules are merely instruments of American convenience. The moment allies demonstrate that those rules apply even to Washington, the narrative shifts. The claim to a rules based order becomes less rhetorical and more demonstrable. Power blocs would still compete, but the terms of legitimacy would tighten.

This would not produce harmony. It would produce constraint.

The most profound shift, however, would be psychological.

Once allies act decisively without waiting for American permission or rescue, the post Cold War era quietly ends. Not with collapse, but with maturation. The transatlantic relationship would no longer be defined by protection and gratitude, but by reciprocity and boundaries.

The United States would remain a critical partner when it chooses cooperation. It would cease to be treated as the system itself.

That distinction is the difference between alliance and dependency.

In that sense, a crisis triggered by Greenland would not simply test NATO. It would complete its evolution. From a structure built to contain an external threat, into one capable of enforcing norms internally without resorting to war.

The real question is not whether such a transformation is possible. The mechanisms exist. The capacity exists. The question is whether allies are willing to accept the discomfort that comes with adulthood in international politics.

Because once impunity is withdrawn, it cannot be restored without consent. And once consent is made conditional, power must finally learn restraint.

Containment Without War: Ending Alliance Impunity in the Twenty First Century – Reshaping the West (Part 2) 

If Part One exposes the fiction of automatic alliance protection, Part Two must confront a harder truth. The absence of a military response does not require submission. This is not 1938, and restraint need not mean appeasement.

A United States move against Greenland under a Trump administration would demand a response designed not to soothe Washington, but to constrain it. The tools exist. What has been lacking is the willingness to use them against an ally that behaves as though alliance membership confers impunity.

The first step would be political isolation, executed collectively and without ambiguity.

NATO members, alongside key non NATO partners, would need to suspend routine diplomatic engagement with the US administration itself. Not the American state. Not American civil society. The administration. This distinction matters. Ambassadors would be recalled for consultations. High level bilateral visits would cease. Joint communiqués would be frozen. Washington would find itself formally present in institutions, but substantively sidelined.

This is not symbolic. Modern power depends on access, legitimacy, and agenda setting. Denying those channels turns raw power into blunt force, costly and inefficient.

The second step would be economic containment, targeted and coordinated.

The mid twentieth century model of blanket sanctions is outdated. Today’s leverage lies in regulatory power, market access, and standards. European states, Canada, and aligned partners would move to restrict US firms closely tied to the administration’s political and financial ecosystem. Defense procurement would be restructured. Technology partnerships would be paused. Financial scrutiny would intensify under existing anti corruption and transparency frameworks.

None of this would require new treaties. It would require resolve.

The message would be clear. Aggression inside the alliance triggers costs that cannot be offset by military dominance alone.

Third, alliance structures themselves would need to adapt in real time.

NATO decision making, already consensus based, would be deliberately narrowed. US participation in strategic planning, intelligence fusion, and Arctic coordination would be curtailed on the grounds of conflict of interest. Parallel European led and transatlantic minus one mechanisms would emerge rapidly, not as an ideological project, but as operational necessity.

This would mark a shift from alliance dependence to alliance resilience.

The fourth pillar would be legal and normative escalation.

Denmark, backed by partners, would pursue coordinated legal action across international forums. Not in the expectation that courts alone would reverse an annexation, but to delegitimize it relentlessly. Every ruling, every advisory opinion, every formal objection would build a cumulative case. The objective would not be immediate reversal, but long term unsustainability.

Occupation without recognition is expensive. Annexation without legitimacy corrodes from within.

Finally, and most critically, allies would need to speak directly to the American public over the head of the administration.

This is not interference. It is alliance preservation. The distinction between a government and a people becomes essential when one diverges sharply from shared norms. Clear, consistent messaging would emphasize that cooperation remains available the moment aggression ceases. The door would not be closed. It would be firmly guarded.

The aim of this strategy is not punishment for its own sake. It is containment without war.

The twentieth century taught the cost of appeasing expansionist behavior. The twenty first century demands something more precise. Not tanks crossing borders, but access withdrawn. Not ultimatums, but coordinated exclusion. Not moral outrage alone, but structural consequences.

A United States that chooses coercion over cooperation cannot be met with nostalgia for past alliances. It must be met with a clear boundary. Power inside a system does not grant license to dismantle it.

The survival of NATO, and of the broader rules based order it claims to defend, would depend on allies finally acting as though that principle applies to everyone. Including the strongest member of the room.

U.S. Border Rules: Security Theater at the Expense of the Economy

The United States is poised to implement border-crossing rules that threaten to strangle tourism and business travel under the guise of national security. Under a proposal from U.S. Customs and Border Protection, travelers from Visa Waiver Program countries could soon be required to disclose five years of social media activity, all phone numbers and email addresses used in the past decade, family details, and an array of biometric data including fingerprints, facial scans, iris scans, and potentially DNA. The stated purpose is to prevent threats before travelers set foot on American soil. The practical effect, however, is more likely to be economic self-sabotage than enhanced security.

Officials argue that social media monitoring can identify links to extremist networks and that biometric verification prevents identity fraud. Yet in reality, these measures are deeply flawed. Social media is ambiguous, easily manipulated, and prone to false positives. Connections to flagged accounts are not proof of malicious intent, and online behavior is rarely a reliable predictor of future actions. Biometric data can confirm identity, but it cannot reveal intent, and DNA collection provides little actionable intelligence for border security. What is billed as a comprehensive safety net is, in practice, security theater: a show of vigilance with limited ability to prevent genuine threats.

The economic consequences are far more immediate and measurable. Tourism generates hundreds of billions of dollars annually in the United States, and even modest deterrence can ripple across hotels, restaurants, retail, and transportation. Business travel and conferences may shift overseas to avoid intrusive vetting, while students and skilled professionals may choose alternative destinations for study and employment. The timing is particularly ill-advised: the 2026 FIFA World Cup, expected to bring millions of international visitors, risks diminished attendance and reduced economic activity due to privacy-invading entry requirements.

Beyond lost revenue, the proposal risks damaging the U.S.’s international reputation. Heavy-handed border rules signal that openness and hospitality are subordinate to bureaucratic procedures, potentially discouraging cultural exchange, foreign investment, and global collaboration. In balancing national security and economic vitality, policymakers appear to have prioritized symbolism over substance.

Ultimately, the proposed rules expose a stark imbalance: symbolic security at the expense of tangible economic and diplomatic costs. Public commentary over the next 60 days is the last line of defense against a policy that could chill travel, weaken industries reliant on foreign visitors, and tarnish America’s global image. National security is crucial, but when it comes at the cost of economic self-harm, it ceases to be protection and becomes self-inflicted damage.

The Numbers Whisper, the Politicians Yell, and Europe Shrugs

Spend enough time listening to the current administration in Washington and you might come away believing Europe has one foot in the grave and the other sliding toward irrelevance. The story is familiar by now. The United States is strong. Europe is weak. The United States is vigorous. Europe is in decline. And the European Union, that sprawling project of integration and compromise, is painted as little more than an exhausted bureaucracy staggering toward collapse.

It is an effective political story. It is not an accurate economic one.

What the data show is far more nuanced. The United States is indeed outpacing Europe on headline growth. That part is real. Quarter after quarter, American GDP numbers look stronger. In one recent comparison the US economy grew eight times faster than the eurozone, which managed a tenth of a percent while the United States beat that figure with ease. This difference is not an illusion created by currency shifts or accounting tricks. It reflects higher productivity growth in the United States, stronger investment, and a demographic profile that remains more favourable than Europe’s. These are material advantages and they reveal real structural gaps.

Yet to jump from those facts to grand claims about European “civilizational decline” is to turn analysis into theatre. The United States is growing more quickly, but the European Union is still one of the largest and most advanced economic regions on the planet. Its labour markets remain stable. Inflation is drifting toward target levels. Living standards across much of Europe remain globally competitive and, in many sectors, outperform American norms once cost and purchasing power are accounted for. A slower growth profile does not equal economic illness. It equals a different model with different strengths and different vulnerabilities.

Why then the drama. Because it serves a purpose. The administration’s own national security strategy now speaks of Europe as a continent on the verge of losing itself, a place where current trends will render the region unrecognizable in twenty years. It warns that internal EU policies are eroding sovereignty and liberty and it openly states an intention to cultivate political resistance inside European nations. Such language is not a neutral economic assessment. It is political positioning wrapped in the clothing of economic diagnosis.

And that positioning does not fall on deaf ears. Nationalist movements in Europe hear the signal clearly. Parties like the AfD in Germany have seized on Washington’s rhetoric as validation and have used it to bolster their own claims about a European project supposedly in decay. The administration’s framing becomes a feedback loop. A strong America. A weak Europe. A proud nationalist revival sweeping the continent. It is a narrative that simplifies complex economic realities for political advantage on both sides of the Atlantic.

The truth sits somewhere far less dramatic. Europe is not collapsing. It is not unravelling. It is navigating a period of slow growth, productivity challenges, and regulatory debates that are real but hardly apocalyptic. The gaps between the EU and the United States are partly economic and partly structural, but the story of a dying Europe is a rhetorical construction, not an economic fact.

That story will continue to circulate because it is useful. It creates a contrast that flatters American power. It energises nationalist movements in Europe that reject Brussels and prefer bilateral dealings with Washington. And it gives political actors in the United States an external example to point toward when arguing that their own model is not only stronger but morally superior.

Economic data rarely shout. They whisper. And what they whisper today is simple. Europe is slower than the United States, yes. Europe is wrestling with productivity and demographic pressures, yes. But Europe is not on the brink. The rhetoric is doing the heavy lifting, not the numbers.

Sources:
euronews.com
courthousenews.com
economy-finance.ec.europa.eu
reuters.com
theguardian.com

Australia: The Prize No One Talks About

There’s a story playing out on the world stage that barely makes a ripple in most media cycles. While the headlines fixate on Ukraine, Gaza, or Taiwan, an unspoken contest is quietly unfolding for influence over a country that has, for too long, been treated as a polite and distant cousin in global affairs: Australia.

We’re used to thinking of the United States as having eyes on Canada, economically, culturally, and strategically. The integration is old news: NORAD, pipelines, the world’s longest undefended border, and the quiet assumptions of shared destiny. But if you really want to understand the next chapter of global power politics, don’t look north. Look west. Look south. Look to Australia.

What’s emerging now is not a scramble for land or flags, but for strategic intimacy, a deep intertwining of interests, logistics, defense capabilities, and ideological alignment. Australia is the prize not because it’s weak, but because it’s vital: geographically, economically, and politically.

The American Pivot
The United States is already entrenched. Through AUKUS, it has committed to helping Australia build nuclear-powered submarines and integrate into the U.S. military-industrial supply chain. But this is more than just a defense pact. It’s about locking Australia into a security and technology architecture that positions it as a forward base for U.S. naval and cyber operations, a southern anchor against Chinese ambitions in the Indo-Pacific.

What few people understand is this: Australia is becoming America’s new front line. Not in the sense of war, but in the grand strategy of containment, deterrence, and projection. The U.S. doesn’t want Australia as a vassal, it wants it as a platform, a co-pilot, a bulwark. In many ways, it’s happening already.

India Enters the Frame
But Washington isn’t the only capital watching Canberra. New Delhi is quietly but deliberately courting Australia too, not for bases, but for bonds.

India sees Australia through a different lens: not as a strategic outpost, but as an extension of its civilizational, economic, and diasporic reach. With a large and growing Indian community in Australia, rising trade links, and joint naval exercises in the Indian Ocean, India’s interest is long-term and layered.

What India understands, and what many in the West overlook, is that Australia is a natural expansion point for a rising democratic Asia. It’s a source of energy, food, space, and credibility. In a world where climate instability and resource scarcity are redefining security, having Australia in your corner isn’t optional. It’s essential.

Why It Matters
This isn’t a turf war. It’s not a return to Cold War blocs. It’s more fluid than that, a web of influence where infrastructure, education, culture, and soft power matter just as much as tanks and treaties.

The real story is this: Australia is shifting from the periphery to the center of global strategic thought. It’s no longer just “down under.” It’s at the crossroads of the world’s most dynamic (and dangerous) geopolitical contest: the one unfolding across the Indo-Pacific.

And here’s the kicker: Australians are waking up to this. The era of benign non-alignment is over. The decisions they make in the next decade, about alliances, sovereignty, and identity — will echo far beyond their shores.

So the next time someone tells you it’s all about Europe or the South China Sea, remind them: The most consequential strategic competition of the 21st century might just be quietly unfolding in the sunburnt country; and it’s not just China who’s watching. The U.S. and India are, too. And they both want Australia in their future.

Carriers, Claims, and Crude: Why the Caribbean Is Becoming 2025’s Most Dangerous Flashpoint

In the windswept corridors of Latin American geopolitics, the tensions between the United States and Venezuela have quietly transformed into something far more consequential than a mere counternarcotics campaign. As of late 2025, the scale of U.S. military deployment in the Caribbean, centered around the gargantuan USS Gerald R. Ford carrier strike group, marks not just a show of force, but a deeply calculated exertion of power.   Beyond the stated mission of interdiction of drug trafficking, this posture suggests a layered strategy: pressuring Maduro, reasserting Washington’s influence in the region, and signaling to Latin American capitals that the era of passive U.S. tolerance may be drawing to a close.

From Caracas’s perspective, this is viewed not as a benign counternarcotics mission but as a direct existential threat. The Venezuelan leadership has responded by mobilizing broadly; ground, riverine, naval, aerial, missile, and militia forces have reportedly been readied for “maximum operational readiness.” Estimates suggest on the order of 200,000 troops could be involved, underscoring how deeply Maduro’s government perceives the risk. In public discourse, the Venezuelan regime frames this as defending sovereignty, not only against cartel-linked accusations but also against what it claims is a looming imperial design.

This confrontation cannot be fully understood, however, without examining Guyana and the long-running territorial dispute over the Essequibo region. Essequibo is no trivial piece of geography: historically claimed by Venezuela, it comprises more than two-thirds of Guyana’s land mass and borders rich offshore blocks. In recent years, ExxonMobil, Hess, CNOOC, and others have developed significant oil infrastructure just off Guyana’s coast, especially in the Stabroek Block.  

Tensions flared visibly in March 2025, when a Venezuelan coast guard vessel sailed deep into waters claimed by Guyana, radioed warnings to floating production storage and offloading (FPSO) platforms, and asserted those vessels were operating in “Venezuelan” maritime territory. Guyana’s foreign ministry publicly protested, noting that the incursion violated not only its sovereign economic zone, but also a 2023 International Court of Justice order that prohibited Venezuela from taking actions that might change the status quo. Guyana also emphasized that its exploration and production activities are lawful under international law, and referenced its rights under the 1899 arbitral award.  

From a strategic lens, Venezuela’s behavior in Essequibo aligns too neatly with its military mobilization against the U.S. The annexation drive, or at least the territorial claim, is not ideological romanticism, but realpolitik rooted in energy security. On multiple occasions, President Maduro has authorized Venezuelan companies, including PDVSA, to prepare for fossil fuel and mineral extraction in the disputed Essequibo territory. In Caracas’ calculus, asserting control over Essequibo could transform its geopolitical position: it reclaims a historical claim, undermines Guyana’s sovereignty, and potentially gives Venezuela leverage over lucrative offshore oil fields.

The U.S. is not blind to this. Washington’s backing of Guyana is deliberate and multilayered. Secretary of State Marco Rubio’s warnings to Maduro, at a joint press conference with Guyanese President Irfaan Ali, make clear that the U.S. considers any Venezuelan aggression against Guyana, especially against ExxonMobil-supported oil platforms, as a red line. For Guyana, which has very limited military capacity, the American presence is both a shield, and a bargaining chip; for the U.S., it’s a way to protect strategic investments, ensure energy flows, and project influence in a region increasingly contested by non-Western actors.

Yet, this is not a zero-sum game with only force on the table. Venezuela’s framing of U.S. activity as an imperial threat resonates powerfully with its domestic base, allowing Maduro to marshal nationalist sentiment and justify radical mobilization measures. The Bolivarian militias, riverine units, and civilian enlistment signal a willingness to wage not just conventional defense, but also hybrid and asymmetric warfare. The mobilization is as symbolic as it is practical.

At the same time, Guyana is investing in a diplomatic-legal offensive. The Guyanese government has formally protested Venezuelan naval incursions and made repeated appeals to the ICJ. International support for Guyana is gathering pace: the Organization of American States and other regional bodies have backed its territorial integrity. In parallel, Washington’s military buildup, dressed as counternarcotics, is likely calculated to saturate the region with deterrence against both terrorist/criminal maritime networks and more ambitious Venezuelan designs.

The risk now is of miscalculation. If Caracas underestimates Washington’s resolve, or if Guyana feels compelled to resist more aggressively, escalation could spiral. But equally, if the U.S. overplays its hand, moving from deterrence to coercion, it risks pushing Venezuela further into isolation or desperation, which could destabilize not only Caracas, but the broader region.

In the broader sweep of history, this crisis may well mark a turning point. Venezuela’s push into Guyana is not just about land; it’s about energy, influence, and the assertion of sovereignty in a global order where resources still drive power. For the U.S., the operation may begin as counternarcotics, but the strategic subtext is unmistakable: protecting American economic interests, reestablishing hemispheric primacy, and shaping the future of Latin America in an era of renewed geopolitical competition.

At Rowanwood, we often say that old maps matter: not just for their lines, but for what those lines mean when power shifts. Here, in the tropical currents of the Caribbean and the oil-laden jungles of Essequibo, the maps are being redrawn – quietly, dangerously, and with very real stakes for the future.

The United States: Rogue Superpower in a World of Rules

Among the ironies of our time, few are more stark than the United States’ position as the architect of the postwar international order, yet increasingly its most consistent violator. While Washington projects itself as the defender of liberty and law, its behavior on the global stage reveals a pattern of exceptionalism that borders on outright rogue conduct. Through its rejection of international legal institutions, selective engagement with treaties, and deliberate undermining of multilateral frameworks, the U.S. has placed itself outside the moral and legal structures it once championed. It is not a rogue state in the traditional sense of irrational belligerence, but a rogue superpower: one that acts with impunity, claims special exemption from global norms, and expects deference without accountability.

Nowhere is this more visible than in the United States’ relationship with the two primary institutions of international justice – the International Criminal Court (ICC) and the International Court of Justice (ICJ). The ICC, established in 2002 to prosecute individuals for genocide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes, was initially shaped with U.S. involvement. Yet when it became clear that the Court could assert jurisdiction over American officials and soldiers, Washington turned hostile. Under the George W. Bush administration, the U.S. “unsigned” the Rome Statute. Two decades later, the Trump administration went so far as to impose sanctions on ICC officials investigating alleged U.S. war crimes in Afghanistan, a breathtaking rejection of international accountability.

The ICJ, which adjudicates disputes between states, has faced similar rebuke. In 1986, after the Court found the U.S. guilty of unlawful use of force in its covert war against Nicaragua, the Reagan administration withdrew from the ICJ’s compulsory jurisdiction altogether. This pattern of participation-when-convenient and withdrawal-when-challenged defines American behavior toward supranational courts. While the U.S. demands accountability from adversaries, condemning Russia’s invasion of Ukraine or China’s abuses in Xinjiang, it immunizes itself from any comparable scrutiny. This is not justice. It is legal imperialism.

This attitude extends well beyond the courts. The U.S. has refused to join, or has actively sabotaged, numerous treaties and international organizations when their mandates threaten to constrain American power. It never ratified the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), despite abiding by its provisions in practice, because the treaty might impede U.S. naval dominance and deep-sea exploitation rights. It signed but never ratified the Kyoto Protocol, then withdrew from the Paris Agreement under Trump—undermining global climate efforts at a critical juncture. It refused to ratify the Arms Trade Treaty, unsigned the ICC, and withdrew from UNESCO and the UN Human Rights Council under various pretexts, only to rejoin later with little reflection. This stop-start diplomacy, driven by domestic politics rather than principled internationalism, has eroded trust in the United States as a stable global partner.

Nowhere has this erosion been more visible than during the COVID-19 pandemic. In 2020, at the height of a global health emergency, the Trump administration withdrew from the World Health Organization (WHO), accusing it of pro-China bias. The move was as symbolic as it was destructive, signaling to the world that the United States would rather abandon multilateral coordination than tolerate criticism or compromise. Though President Biden reversed that decision, the damage to global confidence in American leadership was profound.

What makes all this especially corrosive is that the United States does not retreat from these institutions out of isolationism or irrelevance, but from an inflated sense of exceptionalism. The underlying logic, whether expressed by a Republican or Democratic administration, is that the U.S. is a unique force for good and must therefore not be bound by the same rules as others. This belief animates laws like the American Service-Members’ Protection Act, which authorizes military force to free any American detained by the ICC. It is the rationale behind the rejection of nuclear disarmament treaties like the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons. It fuels the refusal to ratify core labor rights conventions under the International Labour Organization. This is not principled leadership. It is institutionalized impunity.

The consequences of this behavior ripple outward. When the world’s most powerful democracy refuses legal oversight, it licenses others, Russia, China, Israel, even allies like Saudi Arabia, to do the same. It weakens the authority of the very institutions designed to prevent war, protect civilians, and resolve disputes peacefully. It turns what should be universal norms into optional guidelines for the weak, and ignites a global cynicism toward international law as a whole.

America’s rogue status is not merely a theoretical concern for academics or human rights lawyers. It is a real and present danger to global order. The United States wields extraordinary influence over international finance, trade, and military alliances. When it breaks the rules, it doesn’t just bend them, it reshapes the entire system. The result is a world where power substitutes for principle, and might defines right.

If the United States wishes to restore its global standing, not as a bully, but as a builder, it must recommit to the legal frameworks it once helped design. That means rejoining and respecting the jurisdiction of the ICC and the ICJ. It means honoring treaties even when inconvenient. It means ending the era of selective multilateralism and embracing the responsibilities that come with its global reach.

Until that shift occurs, the United States will remain a paradox in the international system: the indispensable nation behaving, more often than not, like a rogue one.

Sources:
• ICC Rome Statute: https://www.icc-cpi.int/resource-library/documents/rome-statute-of-the-international-criminal-court
• ICJ Nicaragua v. United States (1986): https://www.icj-cij.org/en/case/70
• UN Treaty Collection: https://treaties.un.org
• Human Rights Watch: https://www.hrw.org
• Arms Control Association: https://www.armscontrol.org
• United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC): https://unfccc.int
• Congressional Research Service: https://crsreports.congress.gov

The Budapest Memorandum of 1994: A Cautionary Tale in Security Assurances

The Budapest Memorandum on Security Assurances, signed on 5 December 1994, stands as a pivotal moment in post-Cold War geopolitics. Emerging from the ashes of the Soviet Union, it marked a rare convergence of nuclear disarmament and multilateral diplomacy. Ukraine, Belarus, and Kazakhstan, each inheriting a share of the USSR’s vast nuclear arsenal, were persuaded to relinquish their strategic weapons in exchange for assurances from the United States, the United Kingdom, and the Russian Federation. The signing took place at an OSCE summit in the Hungarian capital, hence the document’s name.

At the heart of the memorandum was Ukraine’s possession of the third-largest nuclear arsenal in the world. Though the warheads were technically under Russian operational control, they remained physically on Ukrainian soil. The U.S. in particular led efforts to prevent the emergence of new nuclear states from the former Soviet republics, promoting the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (NPT) as the legal mechanism for disarmament. In return for joining the NPT as a non-nuclear weapon state, Ukraine was promised political assurances regarding its sovereignty, territorial integrity, and security.

The terms of the Budapest Memorandum were significant, though pointedly not binding under international law. The signatories pledged to respect the independence and existing borders of Ukraine, refrain from the threat or use of force, and avoid economic coercion. They also committed to seek UN Security Council action if nuclear weapons were ever used against Ukraine, and promised not to use nuclear weapons against the country themselves. The inclusion of a clause requiring consultations in the event of disputes or threats was intended to provide a diplomatic channel in times of crisis.

What is critical to understand is that the memorandum was not a formal treaty. It lacked enforcement mechanisms and legal penalties, relying instead on political goodwill and international norms. This distinction would prove fatal to its credibility two decades later.

The annexation of Crimea by the Russian Federation in early 2014, followed by its support for separatists in the Donbas region, represented a direct challenge to the core principles enshrined in the Budapest Memorandum. Ukraine’s territorial integrity was violated by a state that had explicitly committed to uphold it. While the United States and the United Kingdom issued strong condemnations and imposed sanctions on Russia, neither country provided direct military support to Ukraine, citing the memorandum’s non-binding nature.

Russia, for its part, has argued that the circumstances of 2014, namely, the change in Ukraine’s government following the Maidan Revolution, nullified the commitments under the agreement. It has also claimed that Crimea’s “referendum” justifies its actions. These positions are widely rejected by the international legal community and by the other signatories of the memorandum, but the damage to the credibility of security assurances was done.

The legacy of the Budapest Memorandum is now viewed with a mix of regret and realism. It illustrates the limits of non-binding agreements in deterring aggression by great powers, and it has become a central reference point in discussions on nuclear disarmament and non-proliferation. For Ukraine, the memorandum is a bitter reminder of the price paid for denuclearization without robust, enforceable guarantees. For the global community, it raises hard questions about the viability of relying on political promises in an increasingly unstable world.

The Budapest case has also had ramifications beyond Eastern Europe. It has been cited by countries such as North Korea and Iran in debates over nuclear policy, reinforcing the perception that possession of nuclear weapons may offer more reliable security than any assurance signed on paper. In the decades since, the gap between rhetoric and reality in international security agreements has only widened.

Sources
• United States Department of State Archive. Background Briefing on Ukraine, March 2014. https://2009-2017.state.gov
• United Nations Office for Disarmament Affairs. Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weaponshttps://disarmament.un.org
• Council on Foreign Relations. Why Ukraine Gave Up Its Nuclear Weapons, 2022. https://www.cfr.org/backgrounder/why-ukraine-gave-nuclear-weapons
• Chatham House. Ukraine, Russia and the West: The Budapest Memorandum at 30, 2023. https://www.chathamhouse.org

Five Things We Learned This Week

Here is the latest edition of “Five Things We Learned This Week” for May 17–23, 2025, highlighting significant global developments across various sectors.

🛑 1. UN Warns of Escalating Humanitarian Crisis in Gaza

UN Secretary-General António Guterres described the current stage of the Gaza conflict as possibly its “cruellest phase,” with Palestinians facing immense suffering amid escalating Israeli military operations. He warned that the entire population is at risk of famine and criticized the limited humanitarian aid reaching Gaza, citing that only a fraction of permitted aid trucks have reached those in need due to insecurity. In the past 24 hours, at least 60 people were killed, including strikes on Khan Younis, Deir al-Balah, and Jabaliya, with over 50 people still buried under rubble. UN agencies and aid groups have raised alarms about inadequate food and medical supplies, with over 9,000 children treated for malnutrition and the healthcare system near collapse—94% of hospitals are damaged or destroyed. Israeli airstrikes have also targeted hospitals, further straining emergency services. Despite easing an 11-week blockade, aid remains minimal, far below pre-war levels. International criticism of Israel’s military actions continues, with leaders calling for a ceasefire and increased humanitarian access. Meanwhile, discussions are underway among Western nations about formally recognizing the state of Palestine, adding a new diplomatic dimension to the ongoing crisis. 

💉 2. NHS England Launches World’s First Gonorrhoea Vaccine

On May 21, NHS England introduced the world’s first gonorrhoea vaccine, demonstrating an efficacy of 30–40%. This development aims to combat the rising rates of gonorrhoea infections and represents a significant advancement in public health efforts to control sexually transmitted infections. 

📉 3. Trump’s New Tariff Threats Shake Global Markets

President Donald Trump’s evolving trade policies continue to send shockwaves through global markets. After a brief period of de-escalation in the U.S.-China trade war, markets were rattled on May 23, 2025, when Trump threatened to impose a 25% tariff on Apple iPhones not manufactured in the U.S. and a 50% tariff on EU goods starting June 1. These moves undermined recent optimism following tariff reductions between the U.S. and China, which had reignited S&P 500 gains and stabilized investor sentiment. However, concerns about tariffs resurfaced alongside rising inflation, tepid economic growth, and persistent federal debt nearing 100% of GDP. Despite some temporary relief—such as tariff pauses and incentives for auto and tech firms—Trump’s unpredictable trade tactics, especially his criticism of Apple’s offshore manufacturing and pressure on trading partners like the UK and India, have reintroduced uncertainty. Furthermore, even with promising AI infrastructure investments from the Middle East, the U.S.-China relationship is strained by export restrictions and sanctions tied to Huawei’s semiconductor use. Economists warn these erratic policies could spur stagflation and erode S&P 500 earnings growth, highlighting the risks of Trump’s tariff-heavy strategy amid widening fiscal deficits and global trade tensions. 

🧬 4. Discovery of New Dwarf Planet Candidate in Outer Solar System

Astronomers have reported the discovery of 2017 OF201, a new dwarf planet candidate located in the outer reaches of the Solar System. This celestial body adds to our understanding of the Solar System’s composition and the diversity of objects within it. 

🎭 5. Hay Festival of Literature and Arts Commences in Wales

The Hay Festival of Literature and Arts began on May 22 in Hay-on-Wye, United Kingdom. This annual event is one of the largest literary festivals globally, attracting authors, thinkers, and readers to celebrate literature, arts, and ideas through various talks, readings, and performances. 

Stay tuned for next week’s edition as we continue to explore pivotal global developments.