Responding to a critique of my BRICS Summit text

My text about the BRICS Summit, available in this blog, was written the day before the meeting in New Delhi.

A preview is not a verdict smuggled in before the evidence. It is a thesis offered for the meeting to test. New Delhi was the test. 

The meeting happened. The record is public. It does not do the work you want it to do.Start with what you treat as refutation. Iran and the UAE held their highest-level contact since the war began. That is true, and it is not trivial. It is also not BRICS acting as a strategic unit. It is two members, sitting on opposite sides of a shooting war, using the host’s rooms to talk.

The same two members had already blocked a foreign ministers’ text in May.

The leaders’ declaration exists because Indian diplomats spent days sanding the language until nobody had to name the United States, Israel, Iran, or the strikes on Gulf territory. “Maximum restraint” and “deep concern,” with national positions recalled in a subordinate clause, is not the cure for tactical paralysis. It is paralysis transcribed into 140 paragraphs. Consensus by omission is still consensus. It is not capacity.

The same holds for the other bilaterals. Modi and Xi discussed border stability. Modi and Putin set a $100 billion trade target for 2030. Those meetings matter. They would have mattered in a hotel corridor without a BRICS logo on the backdrop. 

Present trade is in the region of $65 billion, and the Indian side has been explicit that most of that is Russian oil. A target weighted toward energy shipments is a bilateral energy relationship, not a new payments order. 

When the institution’s value is the corridor, the plenary is the spectacle.

You then enlarge the declaration into a programme. It covers tariffs, coercive measures, the Middle East, terrorism, AI, quantum, digital public infrastructure, a grain exchange, local-currency settlement, NDB lending in local currency, a startup fund under consideration. Listing topics is not the same as moving them. The approved text does not name Ukraine. It does not name the United States on tariffs. It condemns unilateral coercive measures in the abstract and then goes home. 

Whether any of the technical work proceeds is, as you say, a fair question. Calling a document that cannot mention the two largest wars involving its members a strategic coming of age is not.

On payments you accuse me of scoring a test nobody sat. Fine: nobody in New Delhi tabled the yuan as a global reserve currency. India and Brazil would not wear it, for the capital-control reason everyone in the room understands. The live project is interoperability — UPI, Pix, the digital renminbi — plus settlement in national currencies. That work is real, slow, and worth doing. It is also not what the political advertising of this grouping has been for years. The public claim has been an alternative to dollar dominance.

Measuring the summit against the claim its members make when they speak to their own audiences is not a trick. It is taking them at their word.The AIIB point is narrower, and here you land a hit. The bank has a shareholder list that includes Britain, France, Germany, Canada and Australia. London joined as a founder against Washington’s advice. That institution is not a BRICS vehicle, and folding it into the New Delhi story as if it were was a category error. I should not have done it. The error does not rescue the rest of the architecture argument. It simply means the AIIB should be debated as a China-led multilateral with Western capital in it, which is a different and more interesting fight than the one you want.

The NDB is the opposite of a gotcha. The bank halted new business in Russia because American secondary sanctions made the alternative too expensive to operate. You present this as proof that the institution is not Beijing’s political instrument. I presented it as proof that the instrument cannot do the job advertised for it: shelter a founding member from the system it was created to dilute. Both sentences can be true. Only one of them answers the question my column asked. If the “parallel” bank does what Washington requires when the choice is real, the parallelism is conditional. Fragility is the right word for that. Loyalty to Beijing is a separate accusation, and not the one that matters here.

Then the frame. Yes, the criticism of Bretton Woods is legitimate. Quota review has been stuck for a decade. The Fund’s leadership conventions are a Wester relic. An American blocking minority over major IMF decisions is a political fact. None of that converts every communiqué in New Delhi into a working substitute. You set up a closed circuit: reform is vetoed, therefore the alternative must be treated as architecture, and if the alternative is called thin, the critic has left the victims of the veto with “patience.” That is not an argument. It is a demand that disappointment with the IMF be honoured by inflating BRICS. 

States in that position have ordinary options: coalition-building inside the Fund, bilateral swap lines, payment links, commodity trade in local currency. They are already doing some of them. They do not become a new order by being stapled to a 45-page text that cannot say “Ukraine.”

As for the adjectives: they are judgments. The declaration’s silence on a war fought by a founding member is not “abyssal” because a columnist likes the word. It is the measurable gap between the group’s census — eleven members, a large share of population and output — and its ability to describe the world it inhabits. If that register reminds you of agitprop, the remedy is a counter-list: a named loan book that replaced sanctioned finance at scale, a settlement system that cleared Russian or Iranian trade without dollar reach, a Middle East paragraph that could survive contact with the members who were shooting at each other.

You have the talks, the target, and the text. Produce the rest.

Xi skipping the General Assembly is a minor exhibit and I will not lean on it. Leaders skip that General Assembly week. But Xi is a keyn speaker for multilateralism. He should be in New York to show its attachment to the top multilateral organisation. 

You might think that atttendance is a weak test of multilateral sincerity. The stronger test is whether a grouping built to contest the existing order can, when it meets, name the conflicts that divide it and fund the alternatives it announces. 

New Delhi named almost nothing and funded nothing new. That is not a prediction written in the future tense. It is in the minutes.

The BRICS New Delhi Summit

 A Dysfunctional Coalition in the Shadow of Beijing: The BRICS+

Victor Ângelo

International Security Advisor. Former UN Under-Secretary-General

Published: 11 Sept 2026, 02:34

The BRICS+ Summit, taking place in New Delhi on the 12th and 13th of September, will essentially be yet another spectacle of geopolitical illusions. The grouping, which began as a platform of financial convenience initiated by Vladimir Putin (with its inaugural summit in 2009), has been successively instrumentalised. Initially, it served Russia as a means to project power and circumvent its isolation; today, it is additionally the principal vehicle for China's hegemonic ambition in the so-called Global South.

Moscow originally viewed the BRICS as a further instrument to force the narrative of a multipolar world in which Russia would maintain the status of an indispensable superpower. Particularly following the escalation of tensions in Eastern Europe, the bloc was envisaged as a diplomatic shield and a financial alternative capable of neutralising Western sanctions. However, harsh economic reality and prolonged isolation have dictated new rules: the Russia of today, increasingly reliant on the export of hydrocarbons at discounted prices to Asia and the importation of critical technology, has been reduced to the status of a subaltern partner to Beijing's colossal economic machine.

It is China that now wields the baton and sets the strategic compass of the grouping. Xi Jinping has grasped that, to challenge the Euro-Atlantic order consolidated since 1945, Chinese economic and military might was insufficient; it was imperative to constitute and lead a coalition that would serve as a counterbalance to the Western bloc.

The 2024 expansion, with the entry of Egypt, Ethiopia, Iran, and the United Arab Emirates, along with the integration of Indonesia in 2025, aimed to serve this ambition. Nevertheless, formidable obstacles remain. From the outset, the desire to promote the yuan as a reserve currency, replacing the US dollar, is hindered by a structural contradiction: Beijing refuses to relinquish its stringent capital controls. So long as these controls remain in place, the yuan will struggle to become a credible global reserve currency.

The bloc's discourse regarding the reform of the Bretton Woods institutions, however, rests upon criticisms that ought not to be dismissed. For decades, the IMF and the World Bank have been legitimate targets of contestation: the quota review, ratified only in 2016, left China and India under-represented relative to their share of global GDP. The United States preserves a de facto veto over structural decisions, and Europe maintains a monopoly over the leadership of the IMF, reflecting an overarching governance still tethered to the geopolitics of 1944.

Although this Western inertia presents the BRICS+ with a genuine and unifying rallying cry, there is an abyssal difference between reforming multilateral institutions and constructing parallel architectures. China has unequivocally opted for the latter course. The New Development Bank (NDB) and the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB) did not merely emerge to rectify systemic deficiencies for the sake of global equity. They were also conceived to allow Beijing to finance strategic projects, more or less aligned with the Belt and Road Initiative. These are political projects, not merely developmental ones. By failing to incorporate robust requirements for transparency, debt sustainability, and good governance, they frequently serve to establish a supremacy built upon fragile foundations.

The enlargement of the BRICS has exponentially increased its demographic weight, yet it has fatally diluted its cohesion. By housing democracies and autocracies under the same roof, alongside economies highly integrated into global markets and regimes asphyxiated by sanctions, the group has become chronically dysfunctional.

An organisation that attempts to harmonise the interests of Iran and the United Arab Emirates, or that harbours the border, technological, and military rivalry between India and China, is condemned to tactical paralysis. The NDB itself illustrates this fragility: with subscribed capital insufficient for the colossal needs of the Global South, the bank found itself compelled to suspend its operations in Russia, faced with the threat of American secondary sanctions.

In this landscape of precarious balances, Narendra Modi, the summit's host, will focus on immediate pragmatism, ensuring that India is not dragged into an anti-Western crusade. Modi will restrict the agenda to the realm of the possible: fostering intra-bloc trade (which continues to be eclipsed by these countries' exchanges with the G7); developing interoperable cross-border payment systems outside the SWIFT network; cooperating in the digital and Artificial Intelligence sectors; and promoting bilateral trade in local currencies (yuan, rupees, reais, roubles), albeit always with the underlying concern of averting the replacement of a dependence on the dollar with a new submission to the yuan.

India and Brazil draw the principal dividing line within the bloc here: both advocate for a reform of multilateral systems, but neither supports the radicalisation of the BRICS+. For India, the grouping is merely one of several options for its strategic autonomy. Modi plays simultaneously with Washington, Canberra, and Tokyo within the framework of the QUAD, well aware that the true threat to Indian sovereignty and territorial integrity emanates from across the Himalayan borders and from the naval hegemony of its neighbouring Asian superpower, rather than from Washington.

The final image that the New Delhi Summit will endeavour to project will be one of unity and cooperation. However, the true metric of global geopolitical priorities will reveal itself the following week, during the high-level segment of the UN General Assembly in New York.

Xi Jinping, who at the BRICS will mount his customary ideological defence of inclusive multilateralism, does not plan to travel to the United Nations headquarters to participate in the General Assembly. Instead, on the 24th, a stone's throw from New York, he has scheduled a bilateral meeting at the White House with Donald Trump. The choice exposes the chasm between Chinese rhetoric and its practical interests: political narratives may marshal followers, but the grand decisions concerning the world order continue to be negotiated, above all else, in the bilateral arena of the superpowers.

The Bear Meets the Big Brother, the Dragon: Putin and Xi Jinping

 

An Alliance Between Unequal Powers: Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin

Victor Ângelo

Op-ed published in Diário de Notícias on 22/05/2026

 

When Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin meet—as happened once again this week—we witness a highly choreographed geopolitical display, rich in symbolism. They speak of a multipolar world and toast to a ‘new era’ and a ‘no limits’ partnership—the celebrated expression coined during their February 2022 meeting, just days before the launch of Russia’s inadmissible war of aggression against Ukraine. The messages they seek to send to the rest of the planet, particularly to Europe, are highly explicit, and they were repeated this week. First, that China and Russia are bound by an unbreakable alliance, indispensable for constructing the new world order they deem necessary. Second, they intend for this order to differ from the one established in recent decades by the Western world, especially since the era of the Reagan-Thatcher tandem and the period following the end of the Cold War. We are clearly facing a Sino-Russian project to reorder international relations in their own fashion.

 

It is, however, a flawed partnership, an unequal relationship—from an economic perspective, for instance. China is undisputedly the centre of gravity and the primary axis of its neighbour’s economy. It now accounts for between 40% and 45% of Russian imports. This is an overwhelming dependency. Conversely, barely more than 4% of China’s foreign trade is conducted with Russia, according to Bloomberg data. This is an insignificant percentage when compared to the volume of trade between China and other economies, be they the US, the EU, or ASEAN. Furthermore, the Chinese currency, the yuan, is the predominant tender in Moscow’s financial market. The yuan has virtually replaced the majority of transactions previously executed in US dollars, with the remainder settled in roubles.

 

Political inequality compounds this economic disparity. This is the most significant dimension of the asymmetry between the two countries. A tacit hierarchy exists that places the Chinese president at the top. One might say that Xi envisions, proposes, and makes things happen. Putin follows when he can, provided he sees that it does not jeopardise his domestic political image, where he still dictates the law.

 

Xi Jinping intends to be the architect of the new international structure, built with calmness, firmness, and time. He plays without unnecessary haste. He is entirely convinced that, before long, his country will be a rival on an equal footing with the US, and that global challenges will place China at the heart of multilateral responses.

 

Vladimir Putin, for his part, mistook pompous parades for military capability. He ended up bogged down in an intensely draining war, which he made the blunder of initiating with utter disregard for international law and with armed forces that recall the highly doubtful legend of Potemkin villages. Putin continues to believe he is a strategic giant, when in reality Ukraine is laying bare his feet of clay. Putin is likewise a stain on Xi Jinping’s international reputation. Xi finds himself forced to defend him in various political arenas, even though he knows this entails reputational costs for his regime, which wishes to be seen as the champion of peace and multilateral cooperation.

 

Xi’s strategic objectives are essentially twofold. On the one hand, to ensure Chinese dominance in the region defined by the Pacific and Indian Oceans. On the other, to gain the lead regarding the technologies that are shaping the twenty-first century. Achieving this requires time, and it requires China’s main rival powers to remain distracted by other matters.

 

This is where Putin’s political blunders prove to be of immeasurable value to China. Though it is seldom considered, the endless war in Ukraine keeps a significant portion of the strategic capabilities, military resources, and diplomatic attention of China’s main rivals far removed from potential criticism and measures against Chinese domestic and foreign policy. Every crisis meeting at NATO headquarters or in EU capitals represents a tactical distraction for Washington and creates rifts between Europe and the US. All of this allows President Xi to continue the process of economically and politically subordinating Russia, while modernising the People’s Liberation Army and shielding China’s economy against potential Western sanctions. Putin is thus an excellent political distraction.

 

Xi’s greatest anxiety regarding Russia concerns the martial philosophy that continues to prevail in the Kremlin. When Moscow hinted that it might use tactical nuclear weapons in Ukraine, it was Beijing—and not just Washington—that also silently but firmly drew a red line before Putin’s intentions. Xi needs a prolonged and draining conflict that bleeds the West, but he cannot afford to permit or promote an apocalyptic escalation that would destroy the global order upon which China’s rise depends.

 

Consequently, Xi’s support for Russia has strict, albeit undeclared, limits. That is the reality, despite public assertions. China buys Russian oil and gas at a discount, in yuan, and within limits—there was no agreement on the new trans-Siberian pipeline, which deeply disappointed the delegation from Moscow. And it supplies Moscow with ‘dual-use’ goods, including military-applicable items like microchips and drone components. It does so discreetly, but in vast quantities. It denies, however, any accusation of direct lethal military aid. Why? To avoid secondary Western sanctions against its economy, which relies heavily on foreign trade. The ‘architect’ knows that a direct confrontation with the West at this juncture would derail his ambitions and imperil the authority of the Chinese Communist Party.

 

The essential thing is to understand the true nature of the relationship between Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin and to respond to the serious risks it poses. Note the various agreements signed during this visit—for example, in the fields of atomic energy, space, and AI. These matters do not allow for simplistic analysis. China and Russia do not represent the same type of challenge. Yet, despite the asymmetries, a dangerous strategic convergence exists between both regimes.

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.

The Straits and the competition between USA and China

 

---

Hormuz, Malacca, and the Straits of Power

By Victor Ângelo

International Security Advisor. Former UN Under-Secretary-General

Published: 30 April 2026

There are places on maps that, in times of peace, seem like mere details—curiosities. Yet, when rivalry between great powers intensifies, these details become strategic. The Straits of Malacca and Hormuz, Bab el-Mandeb (the Red Sea), and the Indian Ocean routes are now at the heart of global politics: it is through these passages that the economy flows—and it is there that Washington and Beijing test the limits of their competition.

American foreign policy has revealed an emerging pattern: an increasing focus on so-called ‘choke points’—the maritime passages through which energy, commodities, and influence circulate. Control over these points projects both force and deterrence. Consider Hormuz. The figures speak for themselves: the International Energy Agency (IEA) estimates that, by 2025, over 20 million barrels per day will have transited the strait—approximately a quarter of the world’s maritime oil trade.

For the United States, a robust presence in these corridors is not merely about maritime security; it is also a means of protecting its vital interests in the event of a severe crisis.

This is why the ‘Malacca Dilemma’ remains a strategic obsession for Beijing. China depends heavily on maritime routes that traverse this narrow, congested corridor, which is difficult to replace without colossal costs—precisely the type of vulnerability any state seeks to reduce when anticipating a prolonged period of competition.

The Strait of Malacca, though exceedingly long, is only a few kilometres wide at its narrowest point. From an energy perspective, the US Energy Information Administration (EIA) classifies Malacca as a vital choke point: in the first half of 2025, an estimated 23 million barrels of oil per day will have transited the strait. It is this volume—and the immense difficulty of diverting shipping to more expensive alternatives through more treacherous seas south of Indonesia (the Sunda and Lombok waters)—that makes Malacca a national security priority for China and several Asian states.

And it is not merely energy. It is also the container ships, carrying every conceivable type of cargo, and the infrastructure of telecommunications. The Strait of Malacca is a critical corridor for digital connectivity, possessing a high density of subsea cables that link Asia to a significant portion of the globe.

In this context, the agreements and joint exercises between the United States and Indonesia gain a special significance. For Washington, Indonesia is crucial because it sits at the hinge between the Pacific and the Indian Oceans, and its territory defines one side of the strait. For Jakarta, cooperation with the US is useful: it bolsters capabilities, signals autonomy, and helps manage frictions with China—including recurring incidents in border waters—without abandoning its tradition of non-alignment.

The Chinese response to all of this has been simultaneously maritime and continental.

The growth of the Chinese Navy—now the world’s largest by number of vessels—follows a simple logic: if trade is conducted primarily by sea, then national security must also be sea-based. Hence the investment in the naval sector, in the capacity to operate further from its shores, and in port partnerships that, even when presented as commercial, may have military utility in crisis scenarios.

The ‘New Silk Road’ reinforces this strategy: it multiplies connections with the outside world. Projects such as the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor, logistical links through Myanmar, and the pursuit of navigation through the Arctic in coordination with Russia seek to create exits that circumvent Malacca and reduce exposure to the control of rival powers. Furthermore, on the technological level, Chinese dominance in critical segments of certain value chains—for example, in the processing and refining of rare earths, where it remains globally dominant—functions as an instrument of leverage to prevent extreme situations and the risk of shocks.

The result is a rivalry that leaves less and less room for naivety—and which turns the straits into the strongholds of the geopolitical chessboard.

There is, however, a global legal framework worth recalling: the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) and the principle of freedom of navigation. This framework regulates transit through straits used for international navigation and limits arbitrary interference. Rules do not eliminate rivalry, but they increase the political, economic, and reputational costs when restrictions lack acceptable justification.

Summit diplomacy, however theatrical it may seem, matters. The White House has signalled that Donald Trump is slated to visit Beijing in mid-May to meet with Xi Jinping. The meeting will not change geography, but it may help clarify ‘red lines’ and reduce the risk of misunderstandings in an environment where the temptation to ‘test’ the other to the limit is constant. Trump’s trip serves as a test: not of the end of competition, but of the will to define its boundaries. In an interdependent world, the stability of routes is a common interest—even when the rivalry is structural.

If Washington and Beijing transform the straits—and commercial interdependencies—into instruments of permanent pressure, international relations will enter a far more dangerous phase: that of generalised insecurity. In such a scenario, the concern with deterrence becomes a daily occurrence. A miscalculation will, inevitably, be more likely and certainly catastrophic.