The most vexing, complicated and elusive question in international relations is how to achieve an order, based on rules, that enjoys legitimacy, rewards investments in cooperation, reconciles clashing interests and deters conflict. It is not a problem over which a magic wand can be waved. But in our own time, immense and patient efforts have been made towards that general goal, however imperfect the result.

The concept of the ‘rules-based international order’ refers today in its most general sense to arrangements put into place to allow for cooperative efforts in addressing geopolitical, economic and other global challenges, and to arbitrate disputes. It is embodied in a variety of multilateral institutions, starting with the United Nations and running through various functional architectures such as the Bretton Woods system, the corpus of international law and other regimes and treaties, down to various regional instances where sovereignty is pooled or where powers have been delegated consensually by states on a particular issue.

Some aspects of the rules-based order are heavily informed by distinct values, such as those contained in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. But, more often than not, they simply prescribe a set of basic principles for how the business of international political and economic relations is to be transacted. The parameters of legitimate and illegitimate behaviour are specified. Compliance is incentivized, and some scope to sanction transgressors is provided for.

For some, the rules-based international order is a politically highly charged concept. Indeed, the absence of a common standardized definition of it is perhaps a by-product of the controversy which the mere notion of a rules-based order often attracts – among those who had no or little part in its shaping; those who regard multilateralism as an infringement of sovereignty and a straitjacket on national ambitions; and those who sense in it a presumption of universal values and shared interests that jars with their own particular historical experience and political preferences. And in a world in which each country occupies its own place on the spectrum of attraction to, tolerance of and resistance to multilateralism, it is inevitable that the present system should be a patchy and incomplete one.

If that patchiness seems increasingly apparent today, then this reflects the proliferation of problems on a truly global scale that multilateral initiatives have as yet failed to keep up with. This is partly because of the sheer pace of change and the deep complexity of problems, and partly because any significant programme of coordinated action requires a focus and consensus that today is in shrinking supply.

More than that, some of the sharpest challenges – climate change; the lack or weakness of rules in the sea, space and cyber domains; the dilemmas thrown up by technological change – are problematic precisely because they are areas in and through which geopolitical competitions are being contested. The policy challenges may be new, but the pattern of behaviour currently surrounding them presents some dangerous echoes from the past.

Throughout history, most attempts to form international orders have been conceived in a coercive way. From classical antiquity to the 20th century, the dominant form of order has been that imposed or attempted by successive territorial empires, or by predominant powers who made the rules by fiat and were deferred to by their neighbours and satellites.

Significant attempts at more collaborative conceptions of order, aimed at coexistence and minimizing risk through rules and accepted conventions, have been far rarer. And the key point about them is that they have been attempted only after competition has spilled over in an uncontrolled, exhausting and ruinous conflict that has called for mechanisms and understandings to prevent a recurrence of disaster. That, in any case, has been the European experience, and subsequently the result of the engulfing crises that radiated out globally from Europe in the 20th century.

Early efforts at order-building focused on mutual recognition and the management of what were felt to be inevitable rivalries. The Westphalian Peace of 1648 emerged from a 30-year period of religious war in Europe. It emphasized the sanctity of sovereignty and non-interference in the internal affairs of other states as a precondition for order, but relied on a jostling balance-of-power approach to the preservation of a basic stability.

A tolerance of conflicts to correct imbalances was implicit to the scheme. But its acute sensitivity to shifts in alignments of power contributed to the later conflicts – from the wars of the Spanish Succession and Austrian Succession to the Seven Years’ War – that ravaged Europe in the 18th century and occurred in an increasingly global theatre of military operations, tracing the development of European imperial projects.

Despite these shortcomings, the balance-of-power model was produced again as a remedy to uncontrolled conflict, at the Congress of Vienna in 1814–15, following more than 20 years of French Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars. A Concert of Europe, accommodating a rehabilitated France, was instituted to regulate the system and periodically decide major geopolitical issues. But it fell into disuse. And although Europe did not suffer a general war for the rest of the 19th century, the salient geopolitical facts were ones not of power balances but of the sharp relative decline of France and the vertiginous rise of Prussia, which defeated Austria and France on the path to German unification.

These dynamics produced convoluted and ever-widening balancing manoeuvres that by the eve of the First World War in 1914 had congealed and hardened into the opposing Triple Alliance and Triple Entente systems, which trapped their respective members into tangled commitments to fight at the trigger of a crisis.

The peacemaking efforts, in Paris in 1919, that followed the war entailed conscious efforts to overturn the balance-of-power model. The tone was set by US President Woodrow Wilson’s Fourteen Points, with their emphasis on transparency and openness, while the concepts of egalitarianism among states, the drive towards disarmament and the practice of collective security were central to the revolutionary creation of a League of Nations in 1920.

But the peacemaking also included a punitive dimension – the designation of German culpability, the demand of economic reparations and territorial adjustments – imposed by victor on vanquished. To its critics, the international order being evolved, and the rules drafted to underpin it, had the attributes of an involuntary settlement more than those of a construct built by equals.

Lacking a comprehensive membership – crucially, the US had demurred, while other major powers progressively withdrew or were thrown out – and the military means to impose itself, a divided and often circumspect League faltered in meeting a succession of international crises. It then collided fatally with the revanchism of Germany, Italy and Japan that produced the Second World War.

The ambitiousness and eventual institutional intricacy of the UN system founded in 1945 marked a response to the scale of the ordeal through which the world had passed, and sought to correct the deficits of the League. The UN’s membership and the activity of its main organs and specialized agencies all grew prodigiously in succeeding decades, as did its efforts to advance the spirit and culture of multilateralism.

But by giving special privileges to the victors, principally through veto rights held among a small group of permanent Security Council members, the UN reflected and perpetuated a certain historical circumstance: there was no formal institutional adaptation in its highest structures to account for a progressive redistribution of international power, the rehabilitation of defeated countries, the rise of the decolonized world or the desire of emerging powers to assume international responsibilities commensurate with their heft. Rather than a mechanism for international governance, it remained an intergovernmental body through which states pursued their specific or collective priorities.

Indeed, the dominant questions around order in the first five decades of the UN’s existence were those posed by the Cold War conducted by the US and the Soviet Union and their respective allies and satellites, while the UN in effect was a prominent arena in which this global antagonism was carried out.

The world order was bipolar in concentrating power in two camps, with a swath of neutrals, non-aligned and swing players in between; and bi-systemic in the complete contrast in the ideological affinities and economic models that were promoted. Nuclear weapons raised the stakes associated with direct conflict to an existential level, and so pushed armed contests to peripheral theatres or on to skirmishing proxies.

The collapse of communism in the early 1990s ushered in a new dispensation. Those who divined the arrival of a ‘unipolar moment’ for the US were perhaps more accurate in their choice of epithet than they knew. At least on the surface, the US became by far the preponderant power. The decline and 1991 dissolution of the Soviet Union, in consequence of its economic decrepitude and strategic overstretch, not only removed the US’s peer competitor, but also opened up avenues for promoting economic liberalization and democratic government.

This shift was manifest in particular in changing dynamics in Europe. The US had sponsored the reunification of Germany and was a patron of its subsequent embedding in an integrating, democratic and liberal region. Over time, this drew the former Warsaw Pact members into EU and NATO structures (albeit at a pace and with a completeness that Russia’s strategic calculations could not be accommodated to).

And yet, despite these advances, in retrospect the chief development of the 20 years after the Cold War was a different one: globalization had at a gathering pace prompted a redistribution of political power, while its interlocking economic structures created a dense web of interests and dependencies that moved in all directions. It was likely in these circumstances that the appearance of any major emergency would produce insistent voices demanding what they saw as a more inclusive, legitimate and effective form of international order.

Crises duly arrived, first in the shape of the 2003 US-led invasion of Iraq, which strained alliances and stirred controversial debates about the justice and permissibility of military interventions and the need for constraints on US power; and then in the form of the financial meltdown of 2008, seen by many as a principally Western debacle calling for new global economic governance structures as instanced in the improvised G20. Neither set of debates was conclusively resolved, but each persisted against the backdrop of quickening systemic change.

The dilemmas about the shape and maintenance of a rules-based order with multilateralism at its core have since only deepened. The world is pulling in different directions. The ‘America First’ posture of the Trump administration has upturned the central feature of the system. It entails a distaste for multilateral agreements, a disavowal of traditional notions of US leadership, and an insistence on the unimpeded exercise of American power in pursuit of defined national interests.

China asserts the centrality of multilateralism, and practises it selectively, but on the whole favours binary diplomatic transactions where it holds asymmetric advantages; it has used this approach in the construction of its Belt and Road Initiative, as well as on other fronts.

Europe has created in its continent a rules-based order par excellence in the shape of the EU, but its energy has been sapped and its introversion fed by a succession of crises, of which the amputation of the Brexit-bound UK is simply one. The EU has yet to chart its future course or define a global strategy to uphold and advance the multilateralism which has been at its core.

Russia unabashedly is subverting the rules-based order as part of a programme of aggrieved self-aggrandizement. Japan champions the principle of a rules-based system, but the country has been disoriented by its abrupt detachment on this issue from its traditional US partner; while Japan has sought to engage like-minded countries in the West, they have not forged a concerted practical plan of action together.

Among other regional powers, Brazil has a populist government that echoes many of the Trump administration’s instincts, and India, whatever its preferences, has yet to acquire a foreign policy or presence on the global stage equal to its demographic weight and economic potential.

Prominent points of risk in this fragmenting picture are the multilateral trade system, efforts to address climate change, and collective measures to deal with entrenched conflicts.

One obvious consequence of the attrition of the rules-based system through the indifference or ambitions of the great powers is that it will leave smaller states much more exposed and hostage to the vagaries of geopolitical competition. A key question therefore is whether such states will choose and be able to defend a system which gives them a measure of protection.

Over recent decades, a variety of regional groupings – ASEAN, the African Union, the Gulf Cooperation Council, the Organization of American States – have evolved as species of rules-based mechanisms and in order to gather their collective weight. They make a ready constituency for those who would build a coalition for multilateralism. But it is also clear that the support of smaller regional players for such an approach depends on a revision of the rule-making system towards greater inclusivity and a broader say as to the issues it should address.

It is in the context of these trends and structural shifts that Chatham House Expert Perspectives 2019 offers ideas for how to modernize and adapt elements of the rules-based international order. As the title of this opening essay indicates, the imperative to ‘adapt’ reflects the gravity of contemporary challenges, and the inability of many existing structures to underpin ever-more-essential cooperation. Chatham House experts do not offer a master plan, but they attack the problem from a variety of indicative angles.

Suggestions are offered as to where gaps in international rules – regarding economic governance, the global health architecture and in respect of under-regulated domains such as space, for example – need to be filled to address immediate problems and advertise the relevance of multilateralism.

Other ideas demonstrate how logjams affecting some aspects of the system can be worked around; how key powers with scope to shape the system should be engaged; how a broader variety of actors beyond national governments need to be drawn into the effort; how rule-breakers might be tackled; and how imposing order on some chaotic situations requires the fundamental premises of existing policies to be rethought.

Chatham House, which celebrates its centenary in 2020, is a child of efforts after the Great War to reconceive the conduct of international relations and fulfil a mission that is today defined as the creation of a ‘sustainably secure, prosperous and just world’. The historical record shows that international orders not built on these attributes will fail.

This essay was produced for the 2019 edition of Chatham House Expert Perspectives – our annual survey of risks and opportunities in global affairs – in which our researchers identify areas where the current sets of rules, institutions and mechanisms for peaceful international cooperation are falling short, and present ideas for reform and modernization.

Following just over one year in office, UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, Michelle Bachelet, outlines her ongoing priorities at a tumultuous time for fundamental rights protections worldwide.

She discusses the rights implications of climate change, gender inequality including the advancement of sexual and reproductive rights, the protection of vulnerable groups and the need to work closely with states, civil society and business to protect and advance human rights.

Summary

• Online political campaigning techniques are distorting our democratic political processes. These techniques include the creation of disinformation and divisive content; exploiting digital platforms’ algorithms, and using bots, cyborgs and fake accounts to distribute this content; maximizing influence through harnessing emotional responses such as anger and disgust; and micro-targeting on the basis of collated personal data and sophisticated psychological profiling techniques. Some state authorities distort political debate by restricting, filtering, shutting down or censoring online networks.
• Such techniques have outpaced regulatory initiatives and, save in egregious cases such as shutdown of networks, there is no international consensus on how they should be tackled. Digital platforms, driven by their commercial impetus to encourage users to spend as long as possible on them and to attract advertisers, may provide an environment conducive to manipulative techniques.
• International human rights law, with its careful calibrations designed to protect individuals from abuse of power by authority, provides a normative framework that should underpin responses to online disinformation and distortion of political debate. Contrary to popular view, it does not entail that there should be no control of the online environment; rather, controls should balance the interests at stake appropriately.
• The rights to freedom of thought and opinion are critical to delimiting the appropriate boundary between legitimate influence and illegitimate manipulation. When digital platforms exploit decision-making biases in prioritizing bad news and divisive, emotion-arousing information, they may be breaching these rights. States and digital platforms should consider structural changes to digital platforms to ensure that methods of online political discourse respect personal agency and prevent the use of sophisticated manipulative techniques.
• The right to privacy includes a right to choose not to divulge your personal information, and a right to opt out of trading in and profiling on the basis of your personal data. Current practices in collecting, trading and using extensive personal data to ‘micro-target’ voters without their knowledge are not consistent with this right. Significant changes are needed.
• Data protection laws should be implemented robustly, and should not legitimate extensive harvesting of personal data on the basis of either notional ‘consent’ or the data handler’s commercial interests. The right to privacy should be embedded in technological design (such as by allowing the user to access all information held on them at the click of a button); and political parties should be transparent in their collection and use of personal data, and in their targeting of messages. Arguably, the value of personal data should be shared with the individuals from whom it derives.
• The rules on the boundaries of permissible content online should be set by states, and should be consistent with the right to freedom of expression. Digital platforms have had to rapidly develop policies on retention or removal of content, but those policies do not necessarily reflect the right to freedom of expression, and platforms are currently not well placed to take account of the public interest. Platforms should be far more transparent in their content regulation policies and decision-making, and should develop frameworks enabling efficient, fair, consistent internal complaints and content monitoring processes. Expertise on international human rights law should be integral to their systems.
• The right to participate in public affairs and to vote includes the right to engage in public debate. States and digital platforms should ensure an environment in which all can participate in debate online and are not discouraged from standing for election, from participating or from voting by online threats or abuse.

International criminal justice provides a stark reminder that state sovereignty is not an absolute, and that the world’s most heinous crimes should be prosecuted at an international level, particularly where domestic systems lack the capacity or will to hold perpetrators to account. 

The post-Cold War period witnessed a dramatic rise in the number of international tribunals with jurisdiction over war crimes and serious human rights abuses in countries including Cambodia, East Timor, Rwanda, Liberia, Sierra Leone and Yugoslavia. With these processes approaching, or having reached the end of their dockets, many have called for the creation of new tribunals to address more recent conflicts, including the army crackdown in Myanmar in 2017 that resulted in evidence of crimes against humanity against the Rohingya. 

In January this year, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) imposed emergency provisional measures on Myanmar, instructing it to prevent genocidal violence against its Rohingya minority. But a final judgement is expected to take years and the ICJ has no way of enforcing these interim measures. Myanmar has already responded defiantly to international criticism. 

Model for justice

Myanmar is not the first country to face scrutiny for such crimes in Southeast Asia. The Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC), more commonly known as the Khmer Rouge Tribunal was established in 1997 to prosecute Khmer Rouge leaders for alleged violations of international law and serious crimes perpetrated during the Cambodian genocide. This provides an opportunity to consider whether the Tribunal can act as a ‘hybrid’ model for justice in the region. 

The first lesson that can be taken from the Cambodian context is that the state must have the political will and commitment to pursue accountability. It was indeed the Cambodian government itself, who requested international assistance from the United Nations (UN), to organize a process for holding trials. The initial recommendation of the UN-commissioned Group of Experts was for the trial to be held under UN control, in light of misgivings about Cambodia’s judicial system. Prime Minister Hun Sen rejected this assessment and in prolonged negotiations, continued to spearhead the need for domestic involvement (arguably, in order to circumscribe the search for justice). This eventually resulted in the creation of a hybrid body consisting of parallel international and Cambodian judges and prosecutors with supermajority decision-making rules.   

It is worth noting that the Hun Sen government initially chose to do business with former Khmer Rouge leaders, until it became more advantageous to embrace a policy of putting them on trial. It is possible to infer from this that there will be no impetus for action in Myanmar until it is domestically advantageous to do so. At present, this appetite is clearly lacking, demonstrated by de-facto leader Aung San Suu Kyi shying away from accountability and instead defending the government’s actions before the ICJ.

One unique aspect of the Khmer Rouge Tribunal has been the vast participation by the Cambodian people in witnessing the trials as well as widespread support for the tribunal. This speaks to the pent-up demand in Cambodia for accountability and the importance of local participation. While international moral pressure is clear, external actors cannot simply impose justice for the Rohingya when there is no domestic incentive or support to pursue this. The reality is that the anti-Rohingya campaign has galvanized popular support from the country’s Buddhist majority. What is more, the Rohingya are not even seen as part of Myanmar so there is an additional level of disenfranchisement.

Secondly, the Cambodian Tribunal illustrates the need for safeguards against local political interference. The ECCC was designed as national court with international participation. There was an agreement to act in accordance with international standards of independence and impartiality, but no safeguards in place against serious deficiencies in the Cambodian judicial system. Close alliances between judges and the ruling Cambodian People’s Party, as well as high levels of corruption meant the tribunal effectively gave Hun Sen’s government veto power over the court at key junctures. Despite the guise of a hybrid structure, the Cambodian government ultimately retained the ability to block further prosecutions and prevent witnesses from being called. 

In Myanmar, political interference could be a concern, but given there is no popular support for justice and accountability for crimes committed against the Rohingya, the prospects of a domestic or hybrid process remain unlikely. However, there are still international options. The investigation by the International Criminal Court (ICC) into crimes that may have taken place on the Myanmar–Bangladesh border represents a potential route for justice and accountability. The UN Human Rights Council has also recently established the Independent Investigative Mechanism for Myanmar (IIMM), mandated to collect and preserve evidence, as well as to prepare files for future cases before criminal courts.

Finally, the Cambodian case illustrates the culture of impunity in the region. The ECCC was conceived partly as a showcase for international standards of justice, which would have a ‘contagion effect’ upon the wider Cambodian and regional justice systems. 

Cambodia was notorious for incidents in which well-connected and powerful people flouted the law. This culture of impunity was rooted in the failure of the government to arrest, try and punish the Khmer Rouge leadership. The Tribunal, in holding perpetrators of the worst crimes to account, sought to send a clear signal that lesser violations would not be tolerated in the same way. Arguably, it did not achieve this in practice as Cambodia still has a highly politicized judicial system with high levels of corruption and clear limits to judicial independence. 

What this illustrates is that the first step towards accountability is strengthening domestic institutions. The United Nation’s Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights in Myanmar has urged domestic authorities to embrace democracy and human rights, highlighting the need to reform the judicial system in order to ensure judicial independence, remove systemic barriers to accountability and build judicial and investigatory capacity in accordance with international standards. Based on this assessment, it is clear that domestic institutions are currently insufficiently independent to pursue accountability.

The ECCC, despite its shortcomings, does stand as proof that crimes against humanity will not go completely unpunished. However, a process does not necessarily equal justice. The region is littered with justice processes that never went anywhere: Indonesia, Nepal, and Sri Lanka. International recourse is also challenging in a region with low ratification of the ICC, and the absence of regional mechanisms like the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, the European Court of Human Rights, and the African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights (although their remit is not mass atrocity prosecutions). 

The Cambodian case study illustrates the challenges of ensuring justice and accountability within the region. The end of impunity is critical to ensure peaceful societies, but a purely legalistic approach will fail unless it is supported by wider measures and safeguards. It is these challenges, that undermine the prospects for ensuring justice for the Rohingya within Myanmar.

A controversial debate during COVID-19 is the state of readiness within governments and health systems for a pandemic, with lines of the debate drawn on the issues of testing provision, personal protective equipment (PPE), and the speed of decision-making.

President Macron in a speech to the nation admitted French medical workers did not have enough PPE and that mistakes had been made: ‘Were we prepared for this crisis? We have to say that no, we weren’t, but we have to admit our errors … and we will learn from this’.

In reality few governments were fully prepared. In years to come, all will ask: ‘how could we have been better prepared, what did we do wrong, and what can we learn?’. But after every crisis, governments ask these same questions.

Most countries have put in place national risk assessments and established processes and systems to monitor and stress-test crisis-preparedness. So why have some countries been seemingly better prepared?

Comparing different approaches

Some have had more time and been able to watch the spread of the disease and learn from those countries that had it first. Others have taken their own routes, and there will be much to learn from comparing these different approaches in the longer run.

Governments in Asia have been strongly influenced by the experience of the SARS epidemic in 2002-3 and - South Korea in particular - the MERS-CoV outbreak in 2015 which was the largest outside the Middle East. Several carried out preparatory work in terms of risk assessment, preparedness measures and resilience planning for a wide range of threats.

And, at the international level, there are frameworks for preparedness for pandemics. The International Health Regulations (IHR) - adopted at the 2005 World Health Assembly and binding on member states - require countries to report certain disease outbreaks and public health events to the World Health Organization (WHO) and ‘prevent, protect against, control and provide a public health response to the international spread of disease in ways that are commensurate with and restricted to public health risks, and which avoid unnecessary interference with international traffic and trade’.

Under IHR, governments committed to a programme of building core capacities including coordination, surveillance, response and preparedness. The UN Sendai Framework for Disaster Risk highlights disaster preparedness for effective response as one of its main purposes and has already incorporated these measures into the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and other Agenda 2030 initiatives. UN Secretary-General António Guterres has said COVID-19 ‘poses a significant threat to the maintenance of international peace and security’ and that ‘a signal of unity and resolve from the Council would count for a lot at this anxious time’.

This pandemic looks set to continue to be a grave threat to humanity. But there will also be future pandemics – whether another type of coronavirus or a new influenza virus – and our species will be threatened again, we just don’t know when.

Other disasters too will befall us – we already see the impacts of climate change arriving on our doorsteps characterised by increased numbers and intensity of floods, hurricanes, fires, crop failure and other manifestations of a warming, increasingly turbulent atmosphere and we will continue to suffer major volcanic eruptions, earthquakes and tsunamis. All high impact, unknown probability events.

Preparedness for an unknown future is expensive and requires a great deal of effort for events that may not happen within the preparers’ lifetimes. It is hard to imagine now, but people will forget this crisis, and revert to their imagined projections of the future where crises don’t occur, and progress follows progress. But history shows us otherwise.

Preparations for future crises always fall prey to financial cuts and austerity measures in lean times unless there is a mechanism to prevent that. Cost-benefit analyses will understandably tend to prioritise the urgent over the long-term. So governments should put in place legislation – or strengthen existing legislation – now to ensure their countries are as prepared as possible for whatever crisis is coming.

Such a legal requirement would require governments to report back to parliament every year on the state of their national preparations detailing such measures as:

• The exact levels of stocks of essential materials (including medical equipment)
• The ability of hospitals to cope with large influx of patients
• How many drills, exercises and simulations had been organised – and their findings
• What was being done to implement lessons learned & improve preparedness

In addition, further actions should be taken:

• Parliamentary committees such as the UK Joint Committee on the National Security Strategy should scrutinise the government’s readiness for the potential threats outlined in the National Risk register for Civil Emergencies in-depth on an annual basis.
• Parliamentarians, including ministers, with responsibility for national security and resilience should participate in drills, table-top exercises and simulations to see for themselves the problems inherent with dealing with crises.
• All governments should have a minister (or equivalent) with the sole responsibility for national crisis preparedness and resilience. The Minister would be empowered to liaise internationally and coordinate local responses such as local resilience groups.
• There should be ring-fenced budget lines in annual budgets specifically for preparedness and resilience measures, annually reported on and assessed by parliaments as part of the due diligence process.

And at the international level:

• The UN Security Council should establish a Crisis Preparedness Committee to bolster the ability of United Nations Member States to respond to international crisis such as pandemics, within their borders and across regions. The Committee would function in a similar fashion as the Counter Terrorism Committee that was established following the 9/11 terrorist attacks in the United States.
• States should present reports on their level of preparedness to the UN Security Council. The Crisis Preparedness Committee could establish a group of experts who would conduct expert assessments of each member state’s risks and preparedness and facilitate technical assistance as required.
• Regional bodies such as the OSCE, ASEAN and ARF, the AU, the OAS, the PIF etc could also request national reports on crisis preparedness for discussion and cooperation at the regional level.

COVID-19 has been referred to as the 9/11 of crisis preparedness and response. Just as that shocking terrorist attack shifted the world and created a series of measures to address terrorism, we now recognise our security frameworks need far more emphasis on being prepared and being resilient. Whatever has been done in the past, it is clear that was nowhere near enough and that has to change.

Video: Marianne Schneider-Petsinger and Dr Yu Jie discuss key themes from the research paper

Summary

• The underlying driver of the ongoing US–China trade war is a race for global technological dominance. President Trump has raised a number of issues regarding trade with China – including the US’s trade deficit with China and the naming of China as a currency manipulator. But at the heart of the ongoing tariff escalation are China’s policies and practices regarding forced technology transfer, intellectual property theft and non-market distortions.
• As China’s international influence has expanded it has always been unlikely that Beijing would continue to accept existing global standards and institutions established and widely practised by developed countries based on ‘the Washington Consensus’.
• China’s desire to be an alternative champion of technology standard-setting remains unfulfilled. Its ample innovation talent is a solid foundation in its quest for global technology supremacy but tightening controls over personal freedoms could undermine it and deter potential global partners.
• It is unclear if Chinese government interventions will achieve the technological self-sufficiency Beijing has long desired. China’s approach to macroeconomic management diverges significantly from that of the US and other real market economies, particularly in its policy towards nurturing innovation.
• Chinese actors are engaged in the globalization of technological innovation through exports and imports of high-tech goods and services; cross-border investments in technology companies and research and development (R&D) activities; cross-border R&D collaboration; and international techno-scientific research collaboration.
• While the Chinese state pushes domestic companies and research institutes to engage in the globalization of technological innovation, its interventions in the high-tech sector have caused uneasiness in the West.
• The current US response to its competition with China for technological supremacy, which leans towards decoupling, is unlikely to prove successful. The US has better chances of success if it focuses on America’s own competitiveness, works on common approaches to technology policy with like-minded partners around the globe and strengthens the international trading system.
• A technically sound screening mechanism of foreign investment can prevent normal cross-border collaboration in technological innovation from being misused by geopolitical rival superpowers.

The forum aims to develop substantive and actionable policy recommendations for the future direction of global trade in a context of changing geopolitical dynamics and rapid technological transformations.

At the core of the Chatham House Global Trade Policy Forum will be the Chatham House Global Trade Conference, a series of roundtable meetings which address the range of regional and systemic trade matters, and a series of written outputs. The activities will culminate in an annual Global Trade Policy Review Briefing paper.

Our unique position in London, and as a world-leading source of independent analysis and with unparalleled convening capacity, enables Chatham House to engage with a committed network of action-oriented policymakers, business leaders, academics, and representatives from the media and civil society to develop trade policy insights. We are committed to the promotion of sustainable growth and more inclusive governance.

The forum’s work is supported by AIG (founding partner), Clifford Chance LLP, Diageo plc, and EY (supporting partners).

View our current work on International Trade and the World Trade Organization (WTO).

Conventional wisdom says that foreign policy takes a backseat role in US elections. But last autumn’s Democratic primary debates suggest a potential shift is taking place in the conventional view. While healthcare dominated the discussion (Democrats attribute their 2018 midterm gains to the issue), through November foreign policy followed closely behind in second place in terms of minutes devoted to the discussion.

This trend is consistent with President Donald Trump’s America First approach to foreign policy, in which an eye is always kept on how decisions abroad play for the domestic audience. One former Trump administration official has called this dynamic the ‘recoupling’ of foreign policy with domestic policy.

The US–China trade conflict, which commanded headlines throughout 2019, is perhaps the best example of this recoupling, tying trade imbalances less with the geopolitical than with domestic impact on farmers. Immigration is another policy area in which Trump has linked domestic implications and indeed domestic opinion with foreign policy. It’s in the title: America First.

Now, for better or worse, the targeted killing of Qassem Soleimani, Iran’s response and the subsequent fallout may make US foreign policy towards Iran and the US role in the Middle East a central issue for the 2020 US elections. As it comes just ahead of the Democratic presidential primaries, voters will be looking to the candidates to differentiate their foreign policy experience and proposals for America’s Middle East policy.

To President Donald Trump, Soleimani’s assassination represents a campaign promise kept to confront Iran’s aggression.

The Trump administration initially justified the action by citing intelligence of an imminent threat to US personnel and targets, but after Defense Secretary Mark Esper called this into question, Trump tweeted that ‘it doesn’t really matter because of [Soleimani’s] horrible past’. Ultimately, Trump’s message, on the campaign trail and any general debate stage he agrees to be on, is that he has overseen a new national security strategy for Iran.

Soleimani’s removal from the Iranian calculus is just a part of this broader policy, which also includes neutralizing the Iranian government’s destabilizing influence in the Middle East, denying Iran and especially the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps’ access to funding for its malign activities, and rallying the international community against domestic human rights violations and unjust detentions.

To counter Trump, Democrats and democratic presidential candidates would be best-served by offering a simple argument that too links domestic interests and foreign policy: the killing of Soleimani and Trump’s national security strategy for Iran have not made the US or its interests safer.

Iran’s ballistic missile attack on US forces in Iraq, which Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei called a ‘slap in the face’ for the US, makes the risks to US assets and personnel abundantly clear. Even if Iran reverts entirely to covert, proxy efforts to counter US interests, the current US–Iran tensions remain unresolved and will likely continue to persist through the 2020 elections in November.

As a matter of the first order, Soleimani was replaced by his deputy Brigadier General Esmail Ghaani within a day of the former’s death, with Khamenei saying that the Quds Force will be ‘unchanged’.

At the second order, Iraq’s parliament voted in favour of a nonbinding resolution to rescind the invitation to US forces, which led Trump to threaten sanctions and demands for reimbursement. Whether US troops will ultimately leave Iraq (following a ‘mistaken’ report that the US was preparing to depart) remains to be seen, but the destabilization of the US military presence in Iraq fulfils a key Iranian objective.

In the interim, the US-led coalition in Iraq and Syria fighting ISIS announced that it would at least temporarily cease its counterterrorism efforts to instead fortify its outposts and prepare for Iranian retaliation, opening a wider door for the resurgence of the terror group.

By arguing that the US, its troops and interest have not been made safer by Trump’s Middle East policy – from withdrawing from the Iran nuclear deal to the imposition of a ‘maximum pressure campaign’ to Soleimani’s killing – Democrats will be able to point to every post-Soleimani US injury, death, regional terrorism attack, asset compromise, cyberattack and shipping disruption as evidence.

Democratic presidential candidates also ought to be explicit about how they plan to manage tensions with Iran – strategic, diplomatic and military – particularly their position on the future of the nuclear deal.

Iran has made clear that the path to de-escalation is through sanctions relief. Asserting leverage need not always involve taking away all of your counterparty’s options (‘maximum pressure’). It also involves knowing what your adversary wants (sanctions relief) and showing a willingness to offer it (especially where it means less to you) in exchange for something of greater worth (avoiding war/a non-nuclear Iran).

Clarity around future policy of a potential Democratic president may bring de-escalation forward in a way that Trump’s statement of Iran standing down are unlikely to do.

There are two well-established ideas in trade. Individually, they are correct. Combined, they can lead to a conclusion that is unfortunately wrong.

The first idea is that, across a range of economic sectors, the EU and the US have been engaged in a battle to have their model of regulation accepted as the global one, and that the EU is generally winning.

The second is that governments can use their regulatory power to extend strategic and foreign policy influence.

The conclusion would seem to be that the EU, which has for decades tried to develop a foreign policy, should be able to use its superpower status in regulation and trade to project its interests and its values abroad.

That’s the theory. It’s a proposition much welcomed by EU policymakers, who know they are highly unlikely any time soon to acquire any of the tools usually required to run an effective foreign policy.

The EU doesn’t have an army it can send into a shooting war, enough military or political aid to prop up or dispense of governments abroad, or a centralized intelligence service. Commission President Ursula von der Leyen has declared her outfit to be a ‘geopolitical commission’, and is casting about for any means of making that real.

Through the ‘Brussels effect’ whereby European rules and standards are exported via both companies and governments, the EU has indeed won many regulatory battles with the US.

Its cars, chemicals and product safety regulations are more widely adopted round the world than their American counterparts. In the absence of any coherent US offering, bar some varied state-level systems, the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) is the closest thing the world has to a single model for data privacy, and variants of it are being adopted by dozens of countries.

The problem is this. Those parts of global economic governance where the US is dominant – particularly the dollar payments system – are highly conducive to projecting US power abroad. The extraterritorial reach of secondary sanctions, plus the widespread reliance of banks and companies worldwide on dollar funding – and hence the American financial system – means that the US can precisely target its influence.

The EU can enforce trade sanctions, but not in such a powerful and discriminatory way, and it will always be outgunned by the US. Donald Trump could in effect force European companies to join in his sanctions on Iran when he pulled out of the nuclear deal, despite EU legislation designed to prevent their businesses being bullied. He can go after the chief financial officer of Huawei for allegedly breaching those sanctions.

By contrast, the widespread adoption of GDPR or data protection regimes inspired by it may give the EU a warm glow of satisfaction, but it cannot be turned into a geopolitical tool in the same way.

Nor, necessarily, does it particularly benefit the EU economy. Europe’s undersized tech sector seems unlikely to unduly benefit from the fact that data protection rules were written in the EU. Indeed, one common criticism of the regulations is that they entrench the power of incumbent tech giants like Google.

There is a similar pattern at work in the adoption of new technologies such as artificial intelligence and the Internet of Things. In that field, the EU and its member states are also facing determined competition from China, which has been pushing its technologies and standards through forums such as the International Telecommunication Union.

The EU has been attempting to write international rules for the use of AI which it hopes to be widely adopted. But again, these are a constraint on the use of new technologies largely developed by others, not the control of innovation.

By contrast, China has created a vast domestic market in technologies like facial recognition and unleashed its own companies on it. The resulting surveillance kit can then be marketed to emerging market governments as part of China’s enduring foreign policy campaign to build up supporters in the developing world.

If it genuinely wants to turn its economic power into geopolitical influence – and it’s not entirely clear what it would do with it if it did – the EU needs to recognize that not all forms of regulatory and trading dominance are the same.

Providing public goods to the world economy is all very well. But unless they are so particular in nature that they project uniquely European values and interests, that makes the EU a supplier of useful plumbing but not a global architect of power.

On the other hand, it could content itself with its position for the moment. It could recognize that not until enough hard power – guns, intelligence, money – is transferred from the member states to the centre, or until the member states start acting collectively, will the EU genuinely become a geopolitical force. Speaking loudly and carrying a stick of foam rubber is rarely a way to gain credibility in international relations.

This article is part of a series of publications and roundtable discussions in the Chatham House Global Trade Policy Forum.

The end of 2018 was a monumental year for Latin America’s two biggest economies. In December 2018, Andrés Manuel López Obrador (AMLO) was inaugurated as Mexico’s 58th president. The following month saw another political shift further south, as Jair Bolsonaro became Brazil’s 38th president. While sitting on opposite ends of the political spectrum, both AMLO and Bolsonaro were considered to be political outsiders and have upended the status quo through their election to office. 

To what extent does the election of AMLO in Mexico and Bolsonaro in Brazil represent a shift in those countries’ definitions of national interest and foreign policy priorities? How will this affect these states’ policies regarding international commitments and cooperation on issues such as human rights, environment and climate change, migration, and trade? To what extent do possible shifts reflect changing domestic opinions?  Will any changes represent a long-term shift in state priorities and policies past these administrations?

The US 2020 election season enters a potentially decisive next phase with the Super Tuesday primaries on 3 March. With these fifteen, simultaneously-held state elections, the Democrats hope to have greater clarity about their party’s likely nominee for the general race against President Donald Trump in November. Concerns around intraparty divisions in the Democratic party between progressives (represented by Senators Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders) and moderates (represented by former Vice President Joe Biden and former mayor Pete Buttigieg) have surrounded the primary races so far, and are unlikely to dissipate even if one candidate emerges from the field on 3 March.

Against this backdrop, Chatham House brings together a panel of experts to discuss the state of the Democratic primary race, implications for the general election, and the Trump campaign’s priorities ahead of its re-election bid. Will the Democratic party resolve its divisions and unite behind a progressive or moderate in light of the Super Tuesday election results? How is Trump positioned to fair against the Democratic candidates left in the race? Did Former Mayor of New York Michael Bloomberg’s primary gamble to focus on Super Tuesday pay off? And what policy priorities are likely to be pursued under either a Trump 2.0 or a Democratic administration?