The international transition is underway. The scenario we face is grim; the terrain where international relations unfold has become a quagmire. Conditions have deteriorated, transforming the dynamics of interaction into nonlinear movements marked by increased internal and external contradictions. These times are characterized by a lack of systemic development and by reactive, simplistic ideological definitions. Consequently, international alignments operate according to a primitive logic of identity that has led to widespread populist definitions on the international stage. This results in a flexible, yet simplistic political conceptualization centered on problematic dimensions such as security, migration, or the various social dissatisfactions that plague our reality.
These national realities create a rugged international terrain with few parameters for rationality and significant difficulties in operating in good faith. The new constants are destabilization and antagonism. We must assume that the pattern in dominant power politics has proven to be random and unpredictable. The interaction one faces deals with permanently broken ethical dilemmas. The United Nations has shown its inability to negotiate and address the most relevant international issues and crises.
Global politics follows a hidden pattern where crisis is not just possible, but inevitable. This volatility traps the UN in a permanent ethical bind. If we scrutinize the UN’s claim to be a ‘peacebuilding’ body, the reality is far bleaker: it is an organization that provides aid but fails to build lasting peace, exposing its severe structural limitations.
The Decay of Legitimacy
We are witnessing a raw form of power politics where states, intoxicated by the prospect of victory, seek not just to win, but to humiliate those who interfere with their agendas. This dysfunction is the origin of every crisis: a chaotic search for a new balance of power where ‘principles’ are reduced to mere currency in a system of global clientelism.
Decision-making at the international level has always been tethered to the balance of power. But as this balance is in transition, legitimacy has devolved into a mere tool of political ideology, applied selectively to conflicts of values. These ideological ambiguities are no longer just diplomatic friction; they are a source of inefficiency. We are left with a persistent void of legitimacy in addressing conflicts, plunging the international arena into permanent political uncertainty.
In the multilateral arena, official negotiations often strive for minimal objectives. The “real” negotiations—the ones that actually resolve the crisis—have migrated to other settings, driven by personal relationships that have become a fundamental part of the new world order.
If we are concerned about global stability, we must pragmatically accept that building personal connections is the only way to bypass institutional paralysis.
The past of one state can be the future of another. When we feel threatened today, the rational international order of cause and effect evaporates, exposing the raw emotions that actually trigger political action. We are witnessing the stark inadequacy of the “new diplomacy,” which attempts to confront raw hard power and unprincipled smart power with the feeble tools of soft power. It is a mismatch that frequently leaves relevant principles in the dust.
While it is tempting to categorize these disorderly actions as mere symptoms of multipolarity, the transitional nature of our era makes it impossible to define the current logic of international relations with certainty. Political action is theoretically linked to credibility and normative constraints, yet the erratic dynamic of power can instantly place any country in a precarious position vis-á-vis a major power.
International organizations, which should be the bulwarks of sustained political action, are instead languishing in inaction. Consequently, there are no stable patterns for credibility; the sphere is in constant flux. The challenge is to maintain effective diplomacy amidst a succession of crises. In this environment, political credibility is often reduced to the efficiency of adaptation—a permanent zigzag race, lurching left and then right, depending on who occupies the White House (whether Biden or Trump).
The Normalization of Aggression
We are witnessing the formation of a new, darker set of values. Aggression has been tolerated, demystified of its moral weight, and transformed into a valid political resource.
In this context, political ties condition every aspect of political action. Understanding how friendships and alliances are built is no longer optional; it is essential survival tradecraft. International relations are now dominated by a brand of leadership that entails responsibilities within a dimension of clientelism.
This clientelist logic causes principles to suffer. For example, political action on human rights consistently fails to achieve successful implementation of solutions, both within universal and regional frameworks. We constantly see national sovereignties clashing with the responsibility to protect. When states refuse to offer solutions to complaints or condemnations, the international sphere is left paralyzed. The grim reality is assuming a leadership role in human rights today often means witnessing those rights violated without consequence, while one’s own position in the international arena becomes increasingly precarious.
The cost of speaking out has become prohibitive. In today’s climate, condemning a state is synonymous with losing that state’s trust. This dynamic forces a precarious political balance where actors corrupt their own principles in the name of exercising leadership or maintaining sovereignty. The unspoken rules of the balance of power now dictate that preserving the credibility of a state—no matter its actions—is more important than the principles motivating the protection of human rights.
We are operating under a new set of rules called ‘permissibility’: ‘permissibility’ for human rights violations, ‘permissibility’ for aggression, ‘permissibility’ to degrade democracy, ‘permissibility’ for corruption.
In this arena, whoever holds power determines the constraints. This creates a problematic balance of power characterized by “unholy” alliances. The concept of a ‘just cause’ is no longer inherent in the principles that seemed well-established years ago; those principles have been forgotten by international actors, and the rules of the game have fundamentally changed.
This begs the question: What makes us members of a moral community? The next stage toward multipolarity will require determining which countries possess the specific characteristics to be included in such a community. We return to this point repeatedly because of a lingering tradition of coercion. What matters now is not whether countries act in good faith, but whether they act, suffer, and develop under the same “moral” conditions—whether spontaneously or under forms of hard and soft coercion—and whether they participate under the same rules.
For some, the moral rule of the game remains democracy, the protection of human rights, the rule of law, equality, international social justice. For others, it is simply about seeking the preservation of certain interests: security, defense, development, or a common ideological pattern. If a group of countries perceives that they face the same crisis or threats, their moral standard is tied to that shared reality.
This neo-political shift signifies a departure from the tradition of political change based on international law. While the principles of law are becoming increasingly important in the face of persistent misunderstandings, achieving compliance is becoming increasingly difficult.
The underlying theory rests on the legitimacy of this “moral” international community. Legitimacy undoubtedly gives importance to political action; however, when an international alignment does not represent a country’s national identity, a latent crisis arises. The outcome depends on whether that country’s political system can act ethically—or unethically—with respect to its own identity.
States are now permanently forced to deal with a chaotic new international order, constantly choosing how to align themselves and what degree of loyalty to show. Immersed in the complex affairs of survival, countries often give up. They consider it too complicated to maintain principles while navigating the irrationality of the balance of power, especially when reliability is rarely achieved for “just” reasons. Observing this practice, countries simply seek to see what benefits an alignment provides or how it affects them.
Credibility should be an interesting issue to reflect upon, but the real world—and we say this without distorting reality—permanently generates narratives that divorce truth from principles, making it nearly impossible to adhere to them.
The Taxonomy of Submission
The international gallery features a diverse array of actors: the authoritarian, the clientelist, the paternalistic, and the servile. In this ecosystem, global or regional powers set the acceptable norms, expecting their partners to act accordingly. Why do states tend to comply?
There is no consensus on what constitutes international submission—whether it is obedience, conformity, or suggestibility. However, we can view submission not merely as a weakness, but as a transactional relationship where rules achieve self-discipline among partners. From this perspective, submission plays a functional role. The presence of clear rules serves as a guarantee of stability for less powerful states, securing their economic and legal safety.
Paradoxically, full sovereignty in critical situations can become a source of severe stress for small states. Lacking the capacity to rely on their own geopolitical weight, they find relief in the unwritten rules of international roles. This implies listening to world leaders, adopting their agendas, and fulfilling duties set by the global stage. Adherence to these rules is not just capitulation; it is adaptability. A small state’s success often depends on how well it performs this script. Yet, the cost is high: by adhering to these roles, most countries are willing to perform actions that contradict their values, sometimes forgetting that true dignity requires knowing when not to submit.
Why does the excessive use of power trigger such changes in state behavior? Some nations reject the hegemony of a regional leader, attempting to evade its gravity. Yet often, out of fear and the desire to avoid conflict, they simply comply.
Others, however, are not intimidated. They are attracted to the idea of building their own power bases. While the pursuit of international power is traditionally motivated by development or security, today it often conceals attempts to exploit the vulnerabilities of others. Current international politics reveals unpredictable forms of dominance; the pursuit of power frequently masks a deep-seated fear regarding security or trade. This fear motivates states to become aggressors. Such states instrumentalize others, forcing them to serve their interests and exert control through manipulation.
We must distinguish between the raw capabilities of power—the means to compel or force political action—and influence, the ability to induce behavioral change with a degree of probability. Obviously, effective influence usually requires a foundation of power. This foundation can be objective, such as wealth, advanced defense equipment, or technology. It can also be institutional, based on treaties, charters, and conventions (i.e., the permanent members of the Security Council).
Power is rarely monolithic; it is a blend of sources. A unique case arises when a state possesses an extraordinary leader considered worthy of emulation in the international community, such as Uruguay’s José Mujica. In such instances, a leader creates spheres of influence simply through the recognition of outstanding qualities, motivating others to act in accordance with their attitudes. This proves that international legitimacy is a potent form of power; leadership is far easier to exercise when one enjoys a reputation for integrity.
However, the possession of power often corrodes adherence to norms. Powerful states frequently treat international norms with disregard, using unethical mechanisms to intimidate the weak. While most states hesitate to violate prohibitions like non-interference, those who feel powerful enough are more likely to break these taboos to serve their own interests. Power amplifies abuse, and the extent of that abuse depends largely on the ethical qualities and international empathy of the state in question.
The Latin American Paradox
The aspirations of regional actors are often depressingly limited: they desire to align themselves and demonstrate loyalty, while a few attempt to exert some kind of leadership among their regional peers. But there is a darker undercurrent. Some, of course, wish to continue profiting from crime or authoritarian policies.
This is where the narrative becomes twisted. The region’s pragmatism has always been exercised in the name of poverty, inequality, and insecurity. Political rationality has managed to maintain this status quo, using structural weaknesses as a justification for inaction. At first glance, the solution seems obvious: we need to completely reform regional society, forget what we can extract from the international community, and become a more moral international actor offering solutions rather than exploiting vulnerabilities.
Instead, we hear arguments that are frankly unbelievable. We hear that drug traffickers should have freedom of navigation and open skies; that cartel leaders should remain in power regardless of how they seized the presidency; and that indicted pedophiles should not be questioned if they seek re-election, regardless of electoral outcomes or constitutional prohibitions.
Latin America’s structural problems are long-standing: poverty, inequality, organized crime, violence, corruption, and weak institutions. I focus on poverty, not as an ideological issue, but as a metric of Latin American inefficiency. It highlights how this inefficiency paralyzes the region’s capacity to cooperate and act on the international stage.
We face the tragic paradox of rich countries inhabited by poor people. Latin Americans have voted for every possible option—left, right, center, and various flavors of populism—yet the problem persists. Every time policies are implemented, mistakes are made; one crisis follows another, and the people suffer. I want to set aside diplomatic formalities here: countries allow their populations to sink into the crises that they themselves create and perpetuate, secure in the knowledge that it is highly unlikely any single country will be held accountable.
This paralysis has consequences. The countries of the region watched impassively as the Venezuelan crisis metastasized into the largest migratory crisis in the region (reaching 8 million people) and the largest humanitarian crisis in the hemisphere. It is significant that this marked the first time the International Criminal Court opened an investigation against a Latin American country.
This passivity has generated a severe credibility crisis, rooted in the ineffectiveness of diplomatic action and a permanent lack of principles. Structural problems have persisted for decades—sometimes for more than 200 years of independent life. We are looking at 200 years of lost decades. When we observe the reaction of Latin American leadership to these problems, we realize that the region’s past mistakes—born of ignorance, misjudgment of world politics, or failure to understand science and geopolitical conditions—are destined to be repeated.
The Legal Straitjacket: Bureaucracy vs. Necessity
Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter ostensibly grants the UN Security Council broad powers (Articles 39-51) to address threats to international peace, breaches of the peace, and acts of aggression. In theory, this allows for binding actions—sanctions, blockades, and intervention. In practice, however, international law remains deeply divided on whether unilateral actions constitute legitimate countermeasures or illegal coercion.
This is where the friction lies. International custom—the lived reality of statecraft—offers more possibilities for self-defense than the rigid text of the charter. Some legal scholars argue that the opening phrase of Article 51 (“nothing in the present Charter shall impair the inherent right of… self-defense”) implies a pre-existing customary right of self-defense superior to the specific provisions of the text. While Article 51 technically restricts self-defense to scenarios of “armed attack,” established custom suggests that when peaceful means fail, the imperative to resolve threats to international security can justify the use of force.
The fundamental problem is structural: international organizations are designed not to act. They are built for deliberation, not resolution. The inefficiency of those responsible for solving global problems leaves massive gaps in the security architecture. These gaps are where crises fester—systematic human rights violations, crimes against humanity, and, notoriously, the unaddressed genocide in Rwanda.
When priorities dictate, some states step into this vacuum to address threats that paralyzed bodies like the UN ignore. Often, they utilize domestic legal frameworks—such as broad presidential powers under the IEEPA in the United States or national cybersecurity laws—to justify action.
Navigating international law requires patience that victims do not have. Lengthy international negotiations often seem designed to prevent protection rather than facilitate it. While unilateral action is often dismissed as self-serving, it is frequently the only mechanism left to address the collapse of democratic institutions, large-scale atrocities, or the rise of violent extremism and transnational crime.
International organizations are designed for waiting; they avoid acting whenever possible. This is why calls to denounce crimes against humanity in Venezuela and Cuba, or to declare a disruption of the constitutional order, were labeled “radical.”
Critics of the action cite the requirement of “proportionality” to argue against intervention. But we must ask: “proportional” to what? If we weigh the response against reality—systematic human rights violations, the largest migratory crisis in the hemisphere’s history (8 million people), and a humanitarian collapse without precedent in the hemisphere—then the actions taken were not disproportionate in their severity. Quite the opposite. They fell far short of the necessary actions and solutions. True “proportionality” would have demanded a response equal to the magnitude of the tragedy.
Contrary to the outcry of certain theorists, actions taken against dictators and criminals are not violations of international law; nor are protective interventions. These interventions address serious situations recognized by international resolutions that explicitly call upon states to resolve the crises of oppression and atrocity. When action is taken to resolve these situations, it is done in accordance with the law, aligning with the solutions desperately needed by victims of systematic human rights violations. To argue otherwise is akin to claiming that a citizen who detains a criminal in the act, or defends their own home, is the one breaking the law.
Critics warned that such actions would generate “threats to peace” or constitute a “violation of Venezuela’s sovereignty.” These threats did not materialize. On the contrary, the silence of the international community was the true threat.
The other great fear cited by the critics was neocolonialism. But this ignores the reality that Venezuela was already experiencing neocolonialism—it had become a protectorate of Cuba. The Venezuelan regime was propped up by Havana, dragging the country into a misery that only the Cuban model can impose. This relationship involved the appropriation of Venezuelan oil under exploitative conditions that even the United States would not consider imposing, while Cuban agents committed crimes against humanity against Venezuelans to maintain control.
The responsibility to protect people from those who commit these crimes rests with the international community, and every member has the right to assume that responsibility. International law does not recognize immunity for perpetrators of crimes against humanity and human rights violations. In fact, the principle is exactly the opposite.
In Latin America, there is no dimension of territorial immunity for dictators precisely because their “jurisdiction” is founded on the alteration of the constitutional order. They are not acting in accordance with the rule of law; their authority is a product of its violation. Therefore, they cannot claim the protections of the very legal system they have dismantled.
The Myth of Sovereign Immunity
The most significant risk has always been the continuation of the sovereignty crisis affecting Venezuela. But let us be clear: the crisis is the dictatorship. The continuation of the regime means the Venezuelan people remain stripped of their ability to exercise their true sovereignty. The real threat has always been the persistence of the dictatorship, human rights violations, torture and extrajudicial executions, humanitarian collapse, and the repression carried out by internal forces and external actors like Cuba and Iran.
We are witnessing a bizarre interim moment—a “temporary dictatorship” potentially by a figure like Delcy Rodríguez, who once branded opponents as “bootlickers of the empire,” yet now finds herself in a reality shaped by U.S. foreign policy interests.
There is a glaring absurdity in the current discourse. The same allies of the Venezuelan regime who refuse to condemn Russia’s territorial aggression against Ukraine—a war costing thousands of lives weekly—immediately condemned the arrest of an individual accused of drug trafficking and crimes against humanity. This demonstrates a morally bankrupt concept of sovereignty.
Do dictators have an inherent right not to be removed? Do drug cartel leaders possess this right? We cannot pretend Maduro represented the sovereignty of Venezuela. Under his watch, Venezuela became a protectorate—not a sovereign country, but a protected regime, guarded by Cuban security forces and infiltrated by illegal groups.
We are asked if we agree with the action taken against the regime. The analysis in the public sphere has become simplistic, reduced to the tribal level of soccer fans. The true test is not the action itself, but its result. If this intervention restores democracy to Venezuela, stops crimes against humanity, and returns fundamental guarantees to the Venezuelan people, then it is entirely consistent with the solutions proposed by international law. However, if it was executed solely to protect foreign interests, the substance of the case changes; wrong reasons generally do not produce good results.
Invoking sovereignty to defend tyrants is contrary to the very essence of the concept. In this region, sovereign power is granted by the people through the constitution. When a dictator exercises power by violating that constitution, their rule is illegitimate. Pinochet did not embody the sovereignty of Chile, nor did Gregorio Álvarez embody that of Uruguay.
We must be unequivocal: dictators cannot be protected by a concept of sovereignty that grants them impunity for their crimes. Such a concept of sovereignty is contrary to law, contrary to justice, and comes at the expense of the victims of those crimes. Consequently, when power is exercised by violating the constitution—as is the case with dictators—that exercise is illegitimate and non-sovereign; it does not represent the sovereign, but rather the violation of the people’s self-determination.
This is a fundamental legal reality. As “The Law Dictionary” defines it: “The freedom of the nation has its correlate in the sovereignty of the nation. Political sovereignty is the assertion of the self-determinate will of the organic people, and in this there is the manifestation of its freedom. It is in and through the determination of its sovereignty that the order of the nation is constituted and maintained.”
Something is profoundly wrong when sovereignty is weaponized to defend an illegitimate dictator rather than the rights and self-determination of the people. This distortion relies on a nineteenth-century worldview, where sovereignty resided in the monarch, not in the freedom of the populace, nor the victim at the mercy of their perpetrators.
The Venezuelan regime has operated as an engine of international risk, bringing permanent institutional instability to both the country and the region. We have watched this process deteriorate from bad to worse; what is needed now is the opposite: stability, transition, and recovery.
Restoring the rule of law not only resolves Venezuela’s sovereignty crisis but also its economic collapse. The regime has ruined what was once one of the world’s top three oil companies. This cost to the Venezuelan people has been staggering, compounded by Cuban plundering and corruption at PDVSA. In a single U.S. trial related to this corruption, the amounts of money involved were approximately four times the total of the Odebrecht scandal.
While previous licenses granted to U.S. oil companies revitalized the oil industry and contributed significantly to the Venezuelan budget, it is likely that these funds were diverted to finance the repressive apparatus. As we look toward a transition, we must hope and ensure that this time, the nation’s resources are not used to fund its own oppression.
