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.

Reflecting about the forthcoming 2026 NATO Summit

NATO and the Red Lines Trap

Victor Ângelo

International Security Advisor. Former Under-Secretary-General of the UN

Published on: 3 July 2026, Diário de Notícias, Lisbon

  

Next week, the heads of state and government of 32 countries will gather in Ankara for the Annual NATO Summit. The meeting will take place in a complex international context, marked by new regional crises and historic defence commitments—following the demanding budgetary targets approved last year in The Hague. Added to this is a more intense internal debate on how to respond to a Russia that, in addition to its illegal invasion of Ukraine, threatens Western Europe.

The Clash of Two Visions 

Regarding Moscow, the meeting is expected to reflect the clash between two visions: 

The End of Ambiguity: One side demands an end to NATO's policy of "strategic ambiguity", arguing that the Alliance must draw clear red lines against Russian sabotage.

The Trap of Confrontation:The other warns that doing so means falling into a trap that could drag Europe into a catastrophic confrontation. 

For NATO to respond effectively to the challenges of the coming decade, the summit will have to forge a synthesis: political clarity about the threat we face and the Alliance's role, combined with a deliberate and asymmetrical ambiguity regarding the types of possible responses.

A Defensive Alliance and Sovereign Choices 

Any synthesis must start from a fact so often silenced: NATO is, by treaty, an alliance of collective defence whose founding purpose is the security of its members. It must be made clear that it is not an offensive pact directed against Moscow or any other state. When it participated in operations outside its area, it did so because it considered, rightly or wrongly, that Euro-Atlantic stability was at stake. Experience has taught us, now, that these operations require a demanding political and legal justification. 

The Kremlin has refused to recognize the right of every sovereign state to choose its alliances. By way of example, it should be noted that Finland and Sweden did not join NATO because it was imposed by the Alliance, but rather because their citizens democratically decided that membership would decisively reinforce their security. 

Ukraine's aspiration to closer integration into European and Euro-Atlantic structures is no different—it is a sovereign choice. Russia has no right of veto over the independent decisions of its neighbours. Treating NATO's open-door policy as an act of hostility is not a legitimate attitude; it is an obsolete claim based on the theory of spheres of influence that International Law does not recognize and which the defensive character of NATO contradicts. 

The Limits of Ambiguity vs. The Reality of Deterrence 

The defenders of clarity are right in their diagnosis: ambiguity, when confused with a lack of response, fails. NATO's strategy has consisted of leaving the boundaries of the tolerable undefined. Thus, Moscow seems to have viewed this restraint as hesitation and weakness. Therefore, in recent years, it has intensified its destabilization campaigns against several Western European states, utilizing drones, cyberattacks, naval assets, as well as elimination operations and assassination attempts on European figures and former spies who have taken refuge in the EU and the UK. 

These are not mere incidents in the grey zone. They are hostile acts that, in certain cases, can approach the threshold of war. Refusing to name them can convey the perception that these acts have not yet crossed the political barrier that would trigger a harsher response. Remaining silent to avoid aggravating the situation is false prudence. 

On the other hand, the pragmatists are equally right. Demanding that NATO define public and unequivocal red lines for a hybrid confrontation ignores the fundamental principle of deterrence: a red line only has credibility if member states are prepared to respond, including, as a last resort, with military means, to a deliberate violation. 

If NATO declares that sabotaging critical telecommunications infrastructure constitutes an act of war, what happens the next morning? Responding with military force could trigger a wider conflict. Failing to respond forcefully exposes the red line as a bluff. That outcome would be a disaster, capable of severely compromising NATO's credibility. Strategic ambiguity does not reveal weakness; it provides the flexibility to decide on the most appropriate retaliation and leaves the adversary in doubt as to the limits they must not cross. 

A Path Forward for the Summit 

A strong declaration from the 32 member states—that clandestine operations constitute hostile actions against the security of the allies—will give governments the political mandate to mobilize resources, reinforce infrastructure, and explain to citizens what is at stake. This must reaffirm, in the same breath, that NATO seeks nothing from Russia other than respect for the sovereignty and security of its members. 

The summit will have to focus on three essential political strands: 

1. Strengthening cooperation within NATO.

2. Intensifying the support of the various allied states for Ukraine.

3. Having the courage to take diplomatic initiatives that serve peace. 

At the operational level, certain lines require equal attention: 

- Refining analytical capacity, based on unreserved cooperation with allied intelligence services.

- Increasing maritime surveillance.

- Protecting critical infrastructure.

- Investing substantially in the cyber domain. 

None of this requires NATO to become something different from what it has always been. The Alliance does not need rigid red lines, nor proclamations that force it to choose between escalation and a loss of credibility. It must state, in no uncertain terms, that it does not seek to encircle Russia or threaten its security, but that it will not accept intimidation, sabotage, or subversion as normal instruments of relations between states. Its strength will lie in that equilibrium: political firmness, strategic prudence, and a determination that the adversary can neither measure nor anticipate.

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.

Reflecting about the United Nations: today and the future

Navigating the Thucydides Trap: The Pragmatic Rebirth of Global Governance

The current discourse surrounding the post-1945 global order often falls into a trap of fatalism. It is true that reading the present institutional reconfiguration as a mere "evolutionary phase" without acknowledging the raw geopolitical realities can seem like academic escapism. We are indeed caught in the gravitational pull of the Thucydides Trap—navigating the perilous structural collision between a ruling hegemon (the United States) fighting to maintain its primacy, and a rising challenger (China) determined to reshape the global architecture.

However, to declare the multilateral system "dead" or to view this transition solely through the lens of catastrophic collapse is to miss the profound, pragmatic evolution taking place. The global order is not being crushed; it is being stress-tested and forced to shed its utopian illusions in favour of a much more resilient, realistic, and decentralized architecture.

Here is why the new geopolitical game offers a genuine pathway to stability and a renewed, albeit different, form of global cooperation:

1. The P5 Monopoly: From "Gridlock" to the Architecture of Mutual Containment.

 Critics rightly point out that the Permanent Five (P5) of the UN Security Council act as a cartel, and that true, egalitarian reform of the veto system is highly unlikely. However, in the context of the Thucydides Trap, the veto is not a fatal flaw—it is a vital safety valve.

The UN was never designed to be a world parliament; it was designed to prevent World War III. The fact that the US, China, and Russia possess veto power ensures that the system cannot be used to cross their existential red lines, thereby preventing direct kinetic conflict. What critics call "terminal gridlock" is, in reality, the operationalization of mutual deterrence. This friction forces great powers to negotiate "minimum understandings" outside of maximalist rhetoric. By acknowledging that universal consensus is impossible, the P5 are inadvertently creating a realistic architecture of mutual containment, ensuring that the US-China competition remains cold, calculated, and manageable rather than explosive.

2. The UN Secretary-General: The Power of Quiet Diplomacy

 It is easy to lament the P5’s preference for a compliant "Secretary" over a crusading "General" under Article 99. But in an era of hyper-polarized superpower competition, a megaphone is often less effective than a back-channel.

As we approach the selection of a new UN Secretary-General in 2026, the need is not for a polarizing visionary who will publicly shame Washington or Beijing or Moscow —which would only accelerate institutional withdrawal—but for a master of quiet diplomacy. A pragmatic, consensus-building Secretary-General can serve as the indispensable geopolitical shock absorber. By keeping the lines of communication open when public rhetoric (whether from a Trump, Putin or a Xi) runs hot, the Secretary-General can quietly defuse localized crises and facilitate transactional compromises that keep the global machinery humming.

3. "Agile Interdependence": The Evolution of Functional Cooperation

 The era of "weaponized interdependence" is undeniably here. The dividing lines between security and functional cooperation have blurred, with semiconductors, AI, oceans, space, and rare-earth supply chains acting as the new battlefields.

Yet, there is profound cause for optimism here: the sheer cost of decoupling is acting as a modern form of deterrence. 

Complete economic bifurcation is impossible. While universal bodies like the WTO or WHO face immense pressure, functional cooperation is not dying; it is becoming more agile and modular. We are witnessing the rise of "coalitions of the willing," public-private partnerships, and issue-specific agreements. Superpowers may fight over quantum computing, but they remain functionally tethered by the undeniable need to manage climate change, stabilize global debt, and secure food supply chains. 

This "weaponized interdependence" forces a cautious pragmatism: adversaries must cooperate on planetary survival.

4. Pluralism: The Healthy Democratization of Power 

The fracturing of the globe into distinct blocs is often viewed cynically as a march toward war. However, the rise of the SCO, the expansion of BRICS, the EU and the cementing of the Quad represent a genuine, long-overdue democratization of global power.

For the first time in centuries, middle powers like India, Brazil, Mexico, Indonesia, Nigeria, South Africa, and and other democracies have the agency to choose, balance, and demand better terms from both Washington and Beijing (Moscow is losing influence). This multipolarity introduces critical "institutional shock absorbers" into the global system. By engaging in multiple, overlapping regional forums, middle powers are actively preventing a binary, zero-sum showdown between the US and China. 

They are forcing the superpowers to compete through investment, diplomacy, and development rather than sheer military coercion.

Conclusion: A Pragmatic Renaissance 

The universal, idealistic multilateralism envisioned in 1945 is indeed transitioning, but what is replacing it is not a descent into chaos. We are moving toward a mature, transactional balance-of-power politics that acknowledges the Thucydides Trap and actively works to defuse it.

To embrace this new era is not to rearrange the deck chairs on the Titanic; it is to build a more seaworthy vessel. By accepting the limits of the P5, embracing the agility of modular cooperation, and empowering the pluralism of the Global South, we can construct a robust architecture of mutual survival. The new global order will be less poetic and more hard-nosed, but in its brutal realism lies the greatest hope for sustaining peace in the 21st century.

Who is next at the United Nations? What for?

 

An Impossible Job? The Succession of Guterres in a World Adrift

By Victor Ângelo

International Security Advisor and former UN Under-Secretary-General/ SRSG

Published: 17 April 2026

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Within a few days, on the 21st and 22nd, the UN General Assembly will interrogate the vision and proposals of each candidate for the position of Secretary-General. António Guterres concludes his second and final mandate at the end of the year. Who will be his successor?

One candidate is Michelle Bachelet, who served as President of Chile twice—from 2006 to 2010 and 2014 to 2018. Bachelet can also claim significant experience within the United Nations. She held several roles and served as the High Commissioner for Human Rights until 2022. However, Human Rights is a highly sensitive field, where conflict with various offending States is frequent. Consequently, the American President and the newly inaugurated president of her own country do not view her candidacy favourably. Although she is, in my opinion, the most qualified candidate, she faces a virtually impossible challenge.

Rafael Grossi, the Argentine who has served as Director General of the International Atomic Energy Agency since 2019, is also in the race. Grossi gained visibility due to the crises surrounding nuclear power plants in Ukraine and Iran. His name is clearly associated with nuclear issues. He has demonstrated courage and initiative. The support of his country's president, Javier Milei—an eccentric who maintains a special relationship with Donald Trump and has moved closer to China (stating in Davos this year that China is a major trading partner)—will aid his candidacy. The problem may come from Moscow: Milei supports Ukraine, albeit with fluctuations dictated by his alignment with Washington. What impact might this position have on Grossi’s ambitions?

Rebeca Grynspan, the former Vice-President of Costa Rica (1994–1998), is also on the list of official candidates. Grynspan earned credit as one of the officials responsible for the negotiations between Ukraine and Russia regarding maritime security in the Black Sea. She is currently the Secretary-General of UNCTAD, the UN agency that seeks to promote international trade within a framework of sustainable development. She was recently in Baku for an international meeting annually promoted by the President of Azerbaijan, which gathers hundreds of figures active on the international stage. Afterwards, she travelled to Moscow, where she met with Sergey Lavrov. I am told the visit was cordial. However, Russian diplomacy is very shrewd and will only show its hand at the final moment.

Grynspan is, at the outset, the candidate with the greatest chance of success. In addition to her diplomatic qualities and her experience in the field of global economics, she hails from a country of little controversy and is a woman. Furthermore, there is an enormous political campaign in several influential circles pressuring for the election of a woman—an unprecedented feat.

Finally, we have Macky Sall, the former President of Senegal (2012–2024) and the African Union (2022–2023). In performing these roles, Sall demonstrated an ability to dialogue with the great powers independently, without geopolitical alignments. He is a moderate voice of the Global South. He faces, however, a major challenge: the geographic rotation of the Secretary-General position. According to this principle—an unwritten but decisive understanding—the next UN Secretary-General must come from the group of countries that constitute Latin America and the Caribbean. The only Secretary-General from that region was the Peruvian Javier Pérez de Cuéllar, who concluded his mandate on the last day of 1991. Thus, it is almost certain that Guterres will hand over his place to a Latin American or a Caribbean—and I am convinced these national designations should be written in the feminine.

We shall see how the hearings of 21 and 22 April unfold. The delegations present at the General Assembly are preparing to raise a wide range of questions. The most delicate will certainly be those linked to the reform of the United Nations, starting with the composition and representativeness of the Security Council. Clarifications will also be sought on how each candidate intends to deal with the veto-wielding States whenever they embark on clear violations of the UN Charter and International Law. This is an all too current issue. Great powers now shamelessly violate the principles and protocols that they themselves and the international community approved over the decades. They tear up the UN Charter when it suits them and protect client-States led by war criminals.

How can each candidate respond to such questions? It will not be easy.

The political dimension of the UN is undergoing a period of accelerated weakening and marginalisation. International relations have ceased to be aligned with the search for solutions to global problems. Today, as in a past thought never to return—prior to 1945—confrontations and wars of aggression matter more than diplomacy and solidarity between peoples. What can the Secretary-General do to reverse this trend?

Put another way: is there still political space for an organisation whose mission is the maintenance of peace between peoples? The answer lies in the various capitals across the world. It is not in the building in Manhattan, in the area known as Turtle Bay. Therefore, the new Secretary-General—be it one of the four mentioned above, or a "wild card" appearing at the final hour with the blessing of the five veto-wielding members—must be a "moving turtle." A pilgrim of peace in permanent transit between capitals. Direct contact with peoples and with the most diverse leaders, including those who pretend to believe in multilateralism, diplomacy, and respect for International Law: that is the master key to the rebirth of the United Nations.