The selection of the new UN Secretary-General in a complex international context

 

UN: A New Secretary‑General in a Fragmented World

Victor Ângelo

The United Nations Security Council will next week enter a new phase in selecting the next Secretary‑General. The vote will be informal, and each candidate will receive one of three assessments: encouragement, discouragement, or no opinion. This step unfolds against an international landscape marked by political fragmentation, strategic rivalry, and a growing scepticism about the capacity of multilateral institutions to respond to shared global challenges. The successor to António Guterres will inherit not only an agenda crowded with crises, but also the responsibility of demonstrating that global problems can only be confronted through some degree of collective cooperation.

For decades, and until the early years of this century, there existed a minimal consensus around the need for a shared international development agenda. That spirit animated the Millennium Development Goals (2000) and re‑emerged, with greater ambition, in the Sustainable Development Goals (2015). Today, however, that consensus has weakened. The rhetoric of cooperation persists, but the political action that once sustained it has been profoundly eroded.

Three structural factors help explain this deterioration.

The first is the intensification of competition among major powers. Development, infrastructure, technology, and global governance have ceased to be mere domains of cooperation; they have become instruments of power. The most influential states now compete over norms, markets, strategic dependencies, and institutional spaces. The Security Council — which should be the principal forum for building compromise — has proved increasingly unable to produce the necessary and lasting agreements.

China seeks to occupy this space through its global initiatives on Development, Security, Civilisation and, since September 2025, Global Governance, recently complemented by the creation of the World Artificial Intelligence Cooperation Organisation (WAICO). These initiatives follow the Belt and Road framework launched by Xi Jinping in the previous decade. China’s official vocabulary is multilateralist, yet in practice these proposals compete with Western initiatives — such as the G7 Partnership for Global Infrastructure and Investment (2022) — and with the UN itself. What is at stake is not merely the financing of roads, ports, digital networks, or energy systems, but the definition of standards, the establishment of financing criteria, the shaping of political choices, and the moulding of the international environment in which developing countries make decisions.

The second factor is the governance of technology. Robotics and artificial intelligence can free labour from repetitive or dangerous tasks, accelerating progress in health, education, science, and public administration. But without common rules and shared oversight mechanisms, these technologies risk concentrating economic and political power, deepening inequalities, and reducing the autonomy of entire societies. The Sino‑Western dispute over AI norms makes the creation of multilateral forums capable of setting minimum standards even more urgent.

The third factor is the digital transformation of societies. Social media have profoundly altered how citizens perceive the world, relate to one another, and participate in public life. The philosopher Byung‑Chul Han — an exceptionally original thinker and recipient of the Princess of Asturias Award for Communication and Humanities (2025) — argues that digital capitalism fosters an individualism centred on self‑exposure and egocentrism. This “society of the self” erodes empathy and generates indifference towards collective causes: distant poverty, other people’s wars, the climate crisis, or institutional fragility. A kind of civic anaesthesia has taken hold. Added to this is the impact of transnational disinformation, which crosses borders at digital speed and shapes public perceptions, political decisions, and even the legitimacy of multilateral institutions.

Faced with this landscape of public apathy and interstate rivalry, the next Secretary‑General will need to define priorities that are both realistic and politically sustainable. Even before doing so, he or she must redesign the UN’s relationship with the expanding ecosystem of regional organisations and cooperation platforms led by Global South states. Bodies such as the African Union, ASEAN, CELAC, the Arab League, the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation, BRICS+, WAICO, and the Belt and Road Initiative now shape strategic decisions on security, infrastructure, technology, and finance. They are not merely complementary forums: they are instruments of political and economic influence that sometimes compete with the UN’s universal coordinating role. The challenge for the next SG will be to cooperate with these entities without allowing them to replace the UN’s normative and universal function, ensuring that institutional fragmentation does not become normative fragmentation.

The first priority should be a proposal for reform of the Security Council. Without a composition more representative of contemporary geopolitical realities, without greater presence of emerging powers, and without some limit on the paralysing effect of the veto, the Council will continue to lose legitimacy and effectiveness. Bringing it closer to the General Assembly and making it more accountable to the international community will be equally essential.

The second priority should be the protection of multilateral mechanisms that still produce globally beneficial consensus: public health, food security, climate action, humanitarian assistance, migration, sustainable development, and conflict prevention. These are areas where cooperation remains possible and where the UN retains clear added value.

The third priority will require particular attention to the definition of minimum standards for technological governance, especially in the field of artificial intelligence. The aim is not to impose a single model, but to avoid normative fragmentation that leaves the most vulnerable countries at the mercy of private interests or strategic pressure from major powers.

Rebuilding trust means identifying concrete areas where cooperation remains viable, creating incentives for it to prevail over rivalry, and demanding greater political responsibility from those who weaken institutions serving common interests. It also requires clearer rules for digital platforms, whose impact on public opinion and democratic quality can no longer be treated as a secondary matter.

The choice of the next Secretary‑General matters, but it will not be sufficient. Equally decisive will be the quality of the team that accompanies him or her, its independence from the pressures of its countries of origin, and its ability to build bridges without becoming captive to any bloc. The central challenge is not to restore a lost faith in international solidarity, but to construct more modest, pragmatic, and persistent forms of collaboration in a world where interests diverge, power is more dispersed, and trust is becoming an increasingly scarce resource.

Europe and the big powers: be strategic

 

Europe and the Illusion of Permanent Allies

Victor Ângelo

International Security Advisor. Former UN Under-Secretary-General

Published on: 17 Jul 2026

This week, yet another uncomfortable question arose regarding the Hormuz crisis. What legitimacy does a big power have to treat the chokepoints of global trade – and the States that depend upon them – as mere means to its own ends? On Monday, the President of the United States proclaimed himself the "Guardian of the Strait of Hormuz" and imposed a 20% tax on commercial transit through this maritime corridor. On Tuesday, he backtracked and annulled the measure. He did so under pressure from his Gulf allies.

The episode revealed a lack of strategic discernment – an essential quality in any leadership. Acumen is not hesitation, cowardice, or tactical calculation. It is the ability to assess the consequences of a decision before announcing it; to distinguish between what is legally possible, politically acceptable, and strategically sustainable; and to act in a manner that preserves credibility, rather than squandering it on incongruous gestures. A leader with discernment knows that power is not solely measured by the capacity to impose a measure, but also by the aptitude to foresee the resistance it will trigger.

The ephemeral tax of the self-proclaimed "guardian" was an example of imprudence: imposed as a fait accompli, without a recognised legal basis, without consulting the directly affected partners, and without a serious assessment of the Gulf States' reaction. The measure collapsed not out of generosity, but because the affected countries possessed the power to reverse it. The International Maritime Organisation confirmed there was no legal basis for this levy. The problem was not merely the decision; it was the public demonstration that a great power can announce a global measure and discover the following day that it lacks the conditions to sustain it. Consequently, it undermines trust in its word.

President Trump’s decision should not be read as an isolated episode or a personal eccentricity. It belongs to a broader pattern: that of great powers transforming interdependence into instruments of pressure. It is in Africa that this pattern is most clearly visible. All promise protection, investment, security, or development. All invoke the sovereignty of their partners. Yet, in far too many cases, the outcome is an asymmetrical relationship: African countries surrender resources, strategic positions, or decision-making leeway; great powers reap the advantages; and political promises remain contingent upon convenience.

In February 2025, the President of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) offered Washington access to the country's critical minerals in exchange for security guarantees. Partnership agreements between the two followed, signed in December of that year: the United States gained preferential access to Congolese mineral concessions and assumed the obligation to protect the sovereignty of the eastern DRC. On the American side, the pact did not translate into action. Washington limited itself to approving sanctions against Rwanda, which it accuses of sponsoring the rebels.

In Zimbabwe, the Chinese conglomerate Huayou Cobalt inaugurated the continent's first lithium sulphate plant in 2026. Zimbabwe banned the export of raw lithium to force local processing; it was China, not Zimbabwe, that built the processor – thereby capturing the enormous value of this project.

In Mali, Sudan, and the Central African Republic, the Russian Africa Corps protects military regimes in exchange for gold. These pacts are presented as exercises in sovereignty and protection of these States, but the result is akin to that observed in Kinshasa and Harare. Local partners pay with natural resources, dependence, and a loss of autonomy; great powers extract value; and the promised protection rarely equates to enduring security for the populations.

Europe must draw a clear warning from these examples. No great power is a full, automatic, and unconditional ally of Europe. Each acts according to its own interests:

• Washington seeks to preserve its geopolitical primacy.

• Beijing wishes to control value chains, markets, and critical technologies.

• Moscow aims to limit European autonomy and exploit its fundamental vulnerabilities.

Europe may cooperate with all powers when interests align. However, it must do so with the necessary political vision.

Thus, it is fundamental to abandon strategic naïvety. Strategic discernment demands that Europe maintain open channels, but reduce critical dependencies; cooperate when advantageous, but prepare alternatives; negotiate with seriousness, but without submission.

Washington may remain an indispensable partner in matters of security, but it must no longer be treated as the automatic guarantor of the European order. China may be a commercial and mutual investment partner, but it must equally be viewed as a systemic political competitor in industry, technology, and the control of raw materials. Russia may one day return to being an interlocutor, but as long as it employs coercion, threats, and military aggression as political methods, it must be viewed with suspicion.

European autonomy cannot be a mere rhetorical formula. The only alliances upon which Europe can rely in a stable manner are, first and foremost, those it manages to build within itself – on a foundation of genuine, not merely declarative, unity – and, subsequently, with blocs and economies of comparable weight.

It is not a matter of exchanging dependence on Washington for dependence on Beijing or Moscow. Nor is it about fostering unnecessary enmities with the great powers. It is about recognising that, in an order dispersed among rival poles, without a single authority capable of enforcing international rules, Europe must face the great powers as what they structurally already are: competing entities whose interests may align with European ones at certain moments and diverge profoundly at others.

For Europe, this means one cannot confuse diplomatic proximity with peace; markets with dependence; and protection with tutelage. If Europe fails to learn these distinctions, it risks finding itself in the same league as those illusorily sovereign States, where the essential decisions regarding their security, digital systems, energy, industry, and prosperity run the risk of being made outside their own capitals.

The NATO Summit and the defence of the European geopolitical space

 Europe 2030: Anticipating the Unthinkable and Guaranteeing Peace

Victor Ângelo 

International Security Advisor. 

Former UN Under-Secretary-General

Published on: 10 Jul 2026

The NATO Summit in Ankara has made it impossible to continue ignoring the possibility of a Russian aggression against the European space by the end of the decade. It has become a strategic hypothesis that demands preparation, deterrence, and political will. Europe faces a concrete threat and must build a genuine, coordinated, and maximally autonomous Defence capability. Ankara also confirmed a second self-evident truth: the support of the United States, whilst indispensable, can no longer be treated as an automatic guarantee.

European States must correct an error of judgement: interpreting Moscow as if the Kremlin calculated its actions according to a rational economic logic of costs and benefits. This is not the case. Its strategic vision is shaped by other forces: regime survival, historical resentment towards the West, an obsession with a lost sphere of influence, and the need to project strength to prevent any perception of weakness.

That is why the continuation and intensification of the Russian war against Ukraine increase the European risk. This crisis, triggered by the Kremlin, must end without further delay. As Kyiv demonstrates the capacity to strike critical infrastructure within Russia, the vulnerability of Vladimir Putin's power becomes more visible. These attacks erode an autocracy centred on a single face, whose authority depends on internal repression and the appearance of external invincibility. The greater danger is that the Kremlin, should it feel backed into a corner, might seek to regain the initiative through an escalation against NATO countries, pressuring the West to yield and attempting to force Ukraine into capitulation.

This threat would not be a massive territorial invasion in the image of the wars of the 20th century. The technological context has changed the nature of aggression and reduced the time available for decision-making. The risk may arise from surgical, localized operations of great political impact. Russia possesses missile systems, including hypersonics, capable of striking infrastructure in Western Europe in a matter of minutes. Under a logic of controlled escalation, a precision strike against a port, a power station, a communications hub, or a military base would not necessarily mean the onset of a total war. It could suffice to paralyse the Alliance's political decision-making. Every missile would also be a coercive message.

In parallel, the aggression could take the form of rapid operations in vulnerable points: Svalbard, in northern Norway, essential for monitoring the Arctic; Gotland, in Sweden, decisive for controlling the Baltic Sea; or the Suwałki Gap, between Poland and Lithuania, squeezed between Kaliningrad and Belarus. A lightning occupation, albeit limited in space and time, would have a clear objective: to sever access, create faits accomplis, and force NATO to choose between responding, negotiating, or hesitating.

The target would be allied cohesion. If Russia were to advance and NATO were to hesitate, Article 5 would not disappear from paper, but it would lose political substance. The Alliance would continue to exist; however, it would be left with diminished credibility. And an alliance that no longer intimidates the aggressor approaches the old Chinese image, taken up by Mao, of a paper tiger.

The transition to a sort of “NATO 3.0”, in which Europe will have to assume a much greater share of its own Defence, creates a period of critical vulnerability. The summit made it clear that Europe cannot organize its security on the assumption of a constant, predictable, and politically unconditional American presence.

Furthermore: any American insistence on territorial claims or control over Greenland – a topic once again stirred up by Donald Trump in Ankara – would introduce severe tension into the heart of the Alliance. Moscow would tend to interpret a transatlantic fracture of this nature as an opportunity to test NATO's solidity, exploit divisions, and accelerate its operations in the grey zone.

In my preceding article – “NATO and the trap of red lines”, of 3 July 2026 – I emphasized that one of the most dangerous responses would be to announce “red lines”. Linear thinking fails in the face of hybrid warfare and the manoeuvres that take place in the twilight of the grey zone. By proclaiming absolute ultimatums, the Alliance would risk being pushed into an escalation it does not desire or, worse still, exposing its hesitations. What is required is strategic ambiguity: genuine military capabilities, demonstrable readiness, and response options sufficiently unpredictable to render the adversary's calculations more difficult. Europe must invest in a coordinated manner in its Armed Forces and, simultaneously, preserve the language and practice of peace.

Recognizing that Russian aggression is a real possibility on the 2030 horizon is not alarmism. It is strategic prudence. European rearmament should not be presented as a march towards confrontation, but as a condition for avoiding it. When one's neighbour is a power that transforms history into imperial claims and force into a diplomatic argument, peace comes at a high price. But the price of unpreparedness would be incomparably higher. It is this that must be explained to citizens, without euphemisms or useless dramatizations.

Deterrence and defence do not substitute diplomacy; they lend it weight. A fragile Europe may suggest the opening of a dialogue, but it will hardly be heard. A strong, coherent, and autonomous Europe can propose to Moscow a credible, sustained negotiation, oriented towards stability. Dialogue with Russia will always be sterile if conducted from a position of dependence, division, or fear.

Preparing for the unthinkable does not mean desiring war. It means preventing others from considering it advantageous. To guarantee peace – and this remains the paramount objective –, Europe must be ready to respond to scenarios that until recently seemed inconceivable. Peace depends on the credibility of our resolve.

The Space Geopolitics

Superpowers, creative billionaires, and the dispute over outer space

Victor Ângelo 

International Security Advisor. Former UN Under-Secretary-General Published: 5 Jun 2026

Outer space is already a paramount issue in the competition between great powers. Consequently, the deserts of northwestern China, in Xinjiang and Gobi, attract very special attention. Satellite imagery reveals vast military complexes and an extensive network of many dozens, even hundreds, of rocket launch pads, bunkers, and enormous, heavily fortified structures. Built near nuclear silos—which house China’s longest-range intercontinental missiles—this infrastructure aims to guarantee an immediate retaliatory capacity should the country suffer a first strike.

This terrestrial fortress is only half the story. The bunkers excavated in the sand are intimately linked to Chinese surveillance satellites, together forming an integrated ground and space defence system. The assets concentrated in the desert depend directly on their orbital counterparts: the Huoyan-1 early-warning satellites. These "eyes of fire", capable of detecting the infrared signature of enemy missiles immediately after their launch, open a critical three-to-four-minute window, allowing the Chinese chain of command to order the firing of weapons stored in the silos before they can be destroyed.

We are in a different world from the old space race. In the late 1950s and the subsequent decade, the focus was on the national prestige and political image of the US and the USSR. The marathon of space competition has changed. Today, it is a high-speed and high-risk race.

Space is one of the great strategic priorities of the present. Much of what resides in low Earth orbit governs our daily lives: global logistics, financial synchronization, communications, disaster response, and encrypted military operations. The country that masters the technical standards, extracts the first cosmic resources, and controls the orbital infrastructure will obtain an ambivalent power over the global economy and planetary defence, capable of serving human progress as much as military hegemony and a global disaster.

The current space arena is thus a vital geopolitical dispute, marked by four distinct political approaches. Each power runs its own race.

European priorities are concentrated on the development of space infrastructure essential to ensure strategic communications, on the Galileo (GPS navigation) and Copernicus (continuous Earth observation) projects, on the tracking of orbital debris (see the reference to Kessler below), and on research regarding robotic launches. The scarcity of venture capital and fragmentation—every country for itself—are the political issues that need to be resolved.

The United States has consolidated its reliance on public-private partnerships in the aerospace sector. Through the Artemis Accords, Washington seeks to promote international norms that favour free enterprise to maintain its supremacy, leveraging the agility and efficiency of the private sector. Artemis aims to establish a sustained human and robotic presence on the Moon, testing new technologies for the extraction of water and minerals.

China views space through a deeply integrated civil-military lens. For Beijing, it is a strategic domain subject to state control. The Chinese vision constitutes an explicit challenge to US primacy. In this context, China prioritizes the International Lunar Research Station (ILRS), seeking to secure a sovereign infrastructure independent of Western systems. The exploration of the lunar South Pole has become a central objective.

Russia was once a pioneering actor. Today, despite financial constraints and sanctions that limit access to technological components, the space sector continues to be treated as a priority. It retains a highly secretive character. However, it is known to invest primarily in the research and testing of destructive anti-satellite weapons, space-based intelligence, and hypersonic weaponry. This option holds considerable strategic value, both defensive and offensive.

The explosion of space business, operating on an unprecedented financial scale, is another characteristic of our era. The current US dominance is largely driven by private giants such as Jeff Bezos's Blue Origin and, most notably, Elon Musk's SpaceX. By pioneering reusable rockets, SpaceX has drastically reduced launch costs. With a capitalization that already rivals the GDP of major states, the company has rewritten the rules of orbital geopolitics.

These private companies have ceased to be mere service providers. Today, they are central geopolitical actors, wielding enormous economic weight and playing a decisive role in American defence. But, with high economic value comes severe strategic vulnerability. In any potential conflict, the temptation to blind an adversary by destroying their early-warning and communications satellites could be limitless.

An attack of this kind—or even an accidental collision between satellites in orbit—would have devastating systemic effects. There is a risk of triggering the so-called Kessler syndrome: a catastrophic chain reaction in which orbital debris collides with other satellites, generating exponentially more fragments. This would rapidly create a global crisis, with Earth's orbit saturated by high-speed debris directly impacting multiple essential systems. It would not only affect military deterrence: it could compromise the terrestrial economy and provoke a civilizational regression of incalculable consequences.

The 1967 Outer Space Treaty is no longer fit for an era marked by thousands of objects in orbit—a continuously growing number—and by the development of anti-satellite (ASAT) weapons. The Second Space Race, which is currently underway, demands cooperation and far stricter rules—a new treaty. Space cannot be viewed merely as a competition or an extraordinary business opportunity. It is our collective survival that is at stake.

Trump goes to Xi Jinping 's empire: what for?

 Trump's visit to China

(Published in Portuguese in Diário de Notícias - Lisbon - on 15 May 2026)

When the Air Force One touches down in Beijing, Donald Trump imagines that a brief two-day visit to China will be consecrated by the American electorate as a personal triumph. Yet, the reality that matters is entirely different. Beneath the handshakes and the protocol-driven photographs with Xi Jinping, a contemporary version of Thucydides’s Trap is taking shape: the clash between two superpowers—one established, attempting to preserve its hegemony (the US), and the other, emerging, in rapid ascension (China).

For Trump, the purpose of this summit is neither to redraw the security architecture of the twenty-first century nor to speak of peace, harmony, or global challenges—themes that rarely find a place on his agenda. What he seeks is a tactical spectacle. Brief and marketable as a victory, ahead of the midterm elections in November.

The American president seeks to return with results that are easy to communicate: signs of commercial detente (commitments to additional purchases in sectors relevant to the MAGA electorate) and, ideally, some Chinese gesture that reduces the risk of disruption in the Strait of Hormuz. Image management is an integral part of his strategy. The domestic media landscape in the United States has grown increasingly asymmetric: influential segments amplify partisan narratives, shaped by commercial incentives and the polarization surrounding Trump.

The problem with this transactional approach is that it exposes the true American weakness: an obsession with the short term erodes trust and alienates allies. Taipei watches, anxious, at the prospect of its security being converted into a bargaining chip. In Europe, the visit is interpreted as an indicator of volatility in Washington’s strategic orientation. This tends to reinforce debates regarding European defense autonomy, economic resilience, and technology policy.

On the other side of the table, Xi Jinping moves his chess pieces without haste and free from the constraints of electoral calendars. Beijing’s immediate interest is simple: to manage Trump’s unpredictability, to employ personal diplomacy to extract rhetorical concessions over Taiwan, and, above all, to buy time. The Chinese leadership operates on the assumption that the long-term trend—in industrial capacity, technology, semiconductors, Artificial Intelligence, and external influence—favours them, and therefore privileges strategies of attrition and the extension of the decision-making horizon.

At first glance, China appears armed with trumps that are difficult to counter. A centralized political system allows it to define priorities and mobilize resources across a multi-year horizon—as seen in the Five-Year Plans—thereby reducing coordination costs in strategic sectors. The alignment with Moscow, described by both leaderships as a partnership "without limits", grants Beijing additional leeway in matters of energy, diplomacy, trade routes, and security, though it exposes it to reputational risks and secondary sanctions. Internationally, China seeks to consolidate its influence and power among the countries of the Global South through the financing of infrastructure and logistics chains (the Belt and Road Initiative) and via expanding forums such as the BRICS.

Yet, this appearance of invincibility conceals vulnerabilities capable of altering the course of events. What Beijing projects to the outside world as "cohesion and stability" is, more often than not, an internal peace imposed by force and by an apparatus of surveillance and repression. China is far from a monolith: it is a mosaic of 1.41 billion people, 56 ethnic groups, hundreds of languages, and tens of millions of citizens belonging to minorities. In vital regions such as Xinjiang (with over 26 million inhabitants) and Tibet (around 3.6 million), forced assimilation replaces political autonomy—and tensions do not disappear; they accumulate.

The true threat to the regime dominated by the Communist Party may not come from the peripheries, but from the center: From the rising expectations of the Han majority in the megacities; From frustrated, highly educated youth struggling within an increasingly competitive society; And from the persistent asymmetry between hyper-technological coastal cities—such as Shanghai and Shenzhen—and the deeply traditional rural interior living on the brink of subsistence. 

In systems with mechanisms of accountability and mediation—a relatively free press, civic associations, room for public demonstrations, independent courts, and competitive elections—dissent tends to be channeled and absorbed through institutional avenues, reducing the probability of abrupt ruptures.

In an autocratic regime, where public expression is limited and the correction of policies depends chiefly upon those who lead the Party-State, errors can accumulate for longer and become more difficult to reverse. When economic, demographic, or legitimacy shocks converge, the management of social conflicts becomes more demanding, and the cost of maintaining stability rises.

In strategic terms, both China and the United States possess incentives for a minimum understanding to reduce potential conflicts: managing crises before they escalate, avoiding military incidents at sea and in the air, and stabilizing expectations within technological, digital, and commercial competition.

These are the themes that Trump and Xi ought to discuss—not as gestures of goodwill, but to construct an architecture of mutual restraint. Such an arrangement does not erase the rivalry. It is, however, the only way to prevent a miscalculation from ruining everything. Thucydides’s Trap could then pass definitively into history.

Security in Munich 2026: a complex debate

The Munich Security Conference is set to take place from the 13th to the 15th of February. It remains a watershed moment in global political discourse; one need only recall the fractious intervention of the American Vice President, JD Vance, at last year’s gathering to grasp the weight of the meeting.

We find ourselves now in an even more precarious phase. As the Prime Minister of Canada, Mark Carney, remarked recently in Davos, we are in a state of "permanent rupture"—an era of "brute reality" where Great Powers wield trade and force as instruments of coercion. He is, in large measure, correct. Indeed, his observation is one I have touched upon in recent writings.

I must reiterate, however, that we cannot permit ourselves to be overcome by pessimism, nor by the irrationality and violence of autocrats. To fold one's arms is no solution. The world is not fated to be ruled by narcissists, dictators, or the deranged. Mahatma Gandhi once reminded us that there have always been tyrants and murderers, and for a time they may seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall—always.

The speeches to be delivered in Munich are currently being drafted. It seems to me, therefore, an opportune moment to share a series of thoughts on themes I consider paramount.

I shall begin by quoting Kofi Annan, with whom I worked for several years: "Our mission is to place the human being at the centre of everything we do. No wall is high enough to keep out global problems, and no country is strong enough to solve them alone." Long before him, Martin Luther King Jr. observed that we are "caught in an inescapable network of mutuality" that ensnares us all.

The messages of both men are plain to understand: either we commit to solidarity between peoples, or our societies and the planet, as we know them, can only draw closer to the abyss.

I observe with concern the apologia for "useful subordination," which some term political realism. This so-called realism, to which the Great Powers seek to subjugate us—and which certain theorists and leaders champion—must be regarded as a perilous anachronism. It is a sort of "survival guide" that, under the guise of accepting force as the defining factor in international relations, proposes the abandonment of universal principles in exchange for an illusory stability. This political vision being sold to us stems from the exhausted and dangerous premise of accepting "spheres of influence." In other words, they draw inspiration from the suzerainties and vassalages of yore, claiming them to be the best means of ensuring peace. There must be those in Munich prepared to dismantle this fallacy.

The true strength of a State does not reside solely in its military arsenal. It rests equally upon its legitimacy and the courage of its people. To invest in an atmosphere of fear is the preferred pursuit of dictators and populists. When we allow them to wield that weapon, we march toward perdition. This is happening even amongst us. A climate of dread is developing in Europe. The paralysis engendered by fear is the true weakness of a nation. It is vital that it be said in Munich: we are ready to overcome this terror, from wherever it may come. Audacity, anchored in values, is the answer.

Ukraine serves as a testament to this. Her people know it well. Ukrainian resistance is an act of moral courage proving that a people of free spirit is invincible, even when confronted by an imperial philosophy that views the world through a nineteenth-century lens. Zelensky’s address in Davos was a plea for reflection, though it was somewhat eclipsed by Carney’s speech. Zelensky openly criticised Europe, describing it as a "fragmented kaleidoscope of small and medium powers"—hesitant, dependent on the United States, and lost in internal squabbles while Russian aggression persists and Putin’s oil flows freely along European coasts. He proposed that this oil be seized and the proceeds used to fund the legitimate defence of Ukraine and, by extension, our continent.

It is true that the financial assistance provided to Ukraine by the EU since the illegal Russian invasion of 2022 already exceeds 193 billion euros—a considerable sum, surpassing even that of the Americans. Zelensky may, perhaps, have gone too far in his rhetoric. He did, however, have the merit of underlining that without fierce determination, financial means (including those necessary to procure arms), imagination, and political steadfastness, it will be impossible to withstand Russia’s unjustifiable violence.

It would be well for Zelensky to deliver a similar speech in Munich, but to replace criticisms with proposals. And democratic Europe must respond by showing it grasps the danger that the intentions of Putin—and others—represent. The hybrid war against Europe is already underway; and while the greatest threat emerges from the East, we must not lose sight of threats arriving from other quarters.

All of this reminds us that national sovereignty is an inalienable right which we have a responsibility to protect. This is enshrined in the world's commitment to the Charter of the United Nations. Munich must underscore this, while simultaneously placing the reform of the United Nations on the agenda. This is among the most urgent priorities on the international stage. Those countries that cherish the rule of law, the equality of rights between all States, and peace, have here a standard around which to rally. And a priority.

Ukraine: the opinions of Carl von Clausewitz and Sun Tzu

A letter from Carl von Clausewitz

 To the "Good European," Victor Ângelo,

You write of a "dead order" and seek a solution to the carnage in Ukraine. You use the language of philosophers and diplomats, but I must speak to you in the language of the Schwerpunkt—the Center of Gravity.

You ask for a solution? In war, there is no "solution" found in a cabinet; there is only a decision found on the field. War is a trinity: it is composed of the blind instinct of the people (hatred and enmity), the play of probability and chance (the military), and the rational subordination to policy (the government). In Ukraine, this trinity is in total friction.

Here is my counsel on your "solution":

1. Identify the Center of Gravity

A war ends when one side’s Center of Gravity is broken. For Ukraine, the center is not a city, but the Will of the West to sustain its supply. For Russia, the center is the Stability of the Regime in Moscow. If you wish for a solution, you must stop seeking "dialogue" and start seeking the "point of collapse." To end a war, you must make the cost of continuing it exceed the value of the political object. Currently, neither side believes they have reached that point.

2. Beware the "Fog of War" and Friction

You speak of "Strategic Autonomy" and "UN80 Reform." These are beautiful maps, but the map is not the territory. Everything in war is simple, but the simplest thing is difficult. This is Friction. A diplomat’s pen moves easily; a battalion through the mud does not. Your "solution" must account for the fact that Vladimir Putin is operating within the "Fog"—he is betting that your "European Will" is a fragile thing that will shatter under the weight of a long, cold winter.

3. The Political Object defines the Military Aim

You mentioned that the "International Order is dead." If the political object—the restoration of that order—is truly dead, then the military aim in Ukraine has become untethered. A war without a clear political object is merely a slaughter.

• My advice: Europe must decide exactly what its "Political Object" is. Is it the total defeat of Russia (which requires a total mobilization you are not prepared for)? Or is it the survival of a sovereign Ukraine (which requires a "Limited War" strategy)? You cannot have both with the same level of investment.

4. The Defensive is the Stronger Form

You worry that Russia is "intensifying its aggression." Remember my maxim: The defensive form of war is in itself stronger than the offensive. Ukraine has proved this. But the defense has a "culminating point." If Ukraine is pushed beyond its ability to strike back, its defense will become a brittle shell. Your "European Defense Autonomy" must be the "shield of the weak" that allows the defense to remain active and lethal.

5. On the "Spirit of Dialogue"

Dialogue in the midst of a total clash of wills is merely a "breathing space" for the combatants. Do not mistake a pause for a peace. A true solution only arrives when the "diminishing force of the offensive" meets the "mounting power of the defensive" at a point where both sides realize that total victory is a mirage.

My Verdict: Do not seek "optimism," Victor. Seek the "Culminating Point." Strengthen the Ukrainian Center of Gravity until the Russian Will to Power hits a wall of reality. Only when the Kremlin realizes that the "Political Object" (the erasure of Ukraine) is costing more than the "Means" (the Russian State) will the war move from the battlefield back to the "Continuation of Politics"—the negotiating table.

Until then, arm your reason as heavily as you arm your soldiers.

Carl von Clausewitz

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The reply from Sun Tzu

From the Pavilion of Infinite Stillness

To the General Clausewitz and the Scholar Victor Ângelo,

I have listened to the General speak of "Centers of Gravity" and "Mass." He speaks of war as a great hammer striking a cold anvil. It is a loud philosophy, full of smoke and the scent of iron. But I tell you: the peak of efficiency is to win without fighting.

General Clausewitz focuses on the Conflict; I focus on the Calculation. He seeks the "Culminating Point" of force; I seek the "Turning Point" of the spirit.

Victor, you speak of a "Dead Order." I say: In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity. Do not mourn the old order. When the old walls crumble, the terrain is finally clear for those who know how to move.

Here is my response to the General’s advice concerning the war in the West:

1. The Strategy of the Sheathed Sword

The General says war is the continuation of politics. I say: All warfare is based on deception. If the Kremlin believes the West is weary, it will strike. If the West shows its teeth too fiercely, the Kremlin will become desperate like a cornered tiger. The "Solution" is not to break the enemy's Center of Gravity with a hammer, but to disrupt his alliances and frustrate his plans before his troops even move. The EU-Mercosur agreement you mentioned is a "Heavenly Move"—it wins a battle in the West by securing the South, without firing a single shot.

2. Know the Enemy and Know Yourself

General Clausewitz speaks of "Friction" and "Fog." I tell you: If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. Putin’s strength is his perceived "Will." His weakness is his isolation from the flow of the world. Europe’s strength is its "Order." Its weakness is its hesitation. To win, Europe must make its hesitation look like "Patient Strategy" and its unity look like "Infinite Depth."

3. The Golden Bridge

The General says a war ends when one side collapses. I caution you: Do not press a desperate foe too hard. A surrounded enemy will fight with the strength of ten because he has no choice but to die. If you seek a "solution" in Ukraine, you must build a "Golden Bridge" for your enemy to retreat across. If you leave him no path to save his face, he will burn the world to save his ego. Your diplomacy must be like water: soft enough to offer an exit, but relentless enough to erode his foundation.

4. Speed and Subtlety

Clausewitz speaks of the "Defensive as the Stronger Form." I agree, but with a warning: An army prefers high ground to low, and sunny places to dark. Your "European Defense Autonomy" must not be a static wall (the Low Ground). It must be a "Sunlit Strategy"—an intelligence that sees the enemy’s move before he makes it. Use the "Indirect Way." Strengthen Ukraine not just with steel, but by making the Russian people realize that their leader is leading them into a desert while the rest of the world moves toward the oasis.

5. The Use of "Shi" (Strategic Momentum)

You gather at Davos. Do not use it for "Dialogue"—that is for the weak. Use it to build Shi (Strategic Momentum). When the momentum is high, even a round boulder will roll down a mountain with unstoppable force. If you align the Global South, the European Defense, and the Trade Agreements of the West, the "Momentum of History" will shift. At that point, the Kremlin will not "collapse" under a blow; it will simply find itself standing still while the world moves on without it.

My Verdict: General Clausewitz wants to win the war. I want to make the war impossible to continue. Victor, do not seek a "Decision" on the battlefield alone. Seek to make the enemy’s victory so expensive and his isolation so complete that his own people see his "Will to Power" as a "Will to Ruin."

Victory is not a destination; it is a change in the wind.

Sun Tzu