In Davos, at this year’s World Economic Forum, it was a “Rubicon” moment for the liberal countries of the Western Hemisphere, where Canada’s Prime Minister Mark Carney warned that the rules-based international system can no longer be taken for granted. The world order is in rupture. Amid the familiar language of growth, innovation, and resilience, Prime Minister Carney delivered what was widely described as an extraordinary speech and perhaps will go down as one of the watershed moments of this decade, if not the 21st century, precisely because of how ordinary its truths were. He did not announce a new doctrine or unveil a grand strategy. Instead, he named what many in the room had preferred to euphemise: that the rules-based international system is breaking down; that economic interdependence is being weaponised; and that power is once again being exercised with fewer constraints and less consent. Carney spoke of a world where integration no longer guarantees cooperation, where supply chains have become instruments of pressure, and where middle powers are increasingly forced to negotiate from positions of vulnerability. His message was not anti-American, but it was unmistakably post-hegemonic. The old order, he suggested, is in “rupture, not a transition.” 

French President Emmanuel Macron, speaking at Davos soon after, reinforced the point. Warning that Europe could no longer afford strategic dependence, he argued that the post-war architecture of global governance is fraying under the weight of unilateralism, coercion, and geopolitical distrust. The unease articulated in Davos did not remain confined to conference halls. It was soon followed by an emergency conference convened by European leaders, reflecting growing alarm over the continent’s strategic exposure. That European leaders felt compelled to meet in an emergency format is itself telling. It reflects a recognition that multilateralism no longer functions automatically — that institutional inertia can no longer substitute for political coordination. Energy dependence, defence shortfalls, technological reliance, and financial vulnerabilities are now seen not merely as economic issues, but as national security risks. Together, their interventions signalled something profound: even among America’s closest allies, confidence in the existing multilateral order is eroding. These were not academic reflections. They were a political signal; even long-standing allies of the United States now recognise that the foundations of multilateralism are cracking.

For decades after World War II, global governance rested on a simple but powerful bargain. States accepted US primacy not merely because Washington possessed unmatched power, but because it embedded that power within institutions. Security guarantees, open markets, and multilateral norms transformed asymmetry into legitimacy. Consent — expressed through alliances, institutions, and coalitions — was the foundation of American leadership. That foundation is now cracking. What is emerging in its place is not multipolar stability, but a more volatile system defined by coercive leverage, transactional diplomacy, and selective adherence to rules.

Power without consent

This rupture is no longer abstract. It is visible in practice. The recent US operation in Venezuela — marked by direct intervention and the detention of the country’s sitting president — signalled a departure from established norms of state conduct. Regardless of how one assesses Venezuela’s internal politics, the method mattered. The action bypassed multilateral channels, ignored United Nations procedures, and unfolded without broad allied endorsement.

The implication is profound. It suggests that power can now be exercised first, with legitimacy supplied later — if at all. In such a world, multilateralism is reduced from a governing framework to a rhetorical convenience.

The Greenland episode reveals the same logic in subtler form. When US President Trump publicly floated the idea of acquiring Greenland, Denmark and the European Union responded swiftly: sovereignty is not for sale. Yet the significance lay not in feasibility, but in the return of a transactional vocabulary to territorial questions once governed by norms. What had long been unthinkable was suddenly speakable.

Together, Venezuela and Greenland point to a deeper transformation. They reflect a post-consensual order in which consultation is optional, institutional pathways are bypassed, and diplomacy increasingly resembles bargaining under pressure rather than negotiation among equals.

When constraint becomes inconvenient

These cases are part of a broader pattern of disengagement from institutional constraint. US withdrawals from climate frameworks, regulatory regimes, development bodies, and UN processes are often framed as policy disagreements. But their cumulative effect signals something more structural: declining tolerance for external limits on sovereign power.

American leadership worked precisely because it was exercised inside institutions. Rules did not weaken US power; they legitimised it. When the most powerful state steps away from those frameworks, it does not merely weaken them — it undermines the principle that power itself should be institutionalised.

This erosion has cascading effects. It weakens dispute resolution mechanisms, destabilises financial governance, and erodes confidence in crisis management. But its most dangerous consequence lies in the realm of nuclear security.

The return of nuclear logic

The global non-proliferation regime — anchored in the Non-Proliferation Treaty, arms control agreements, and verification mechanisms — was designed to prevent a world in which survival depends on possessing the ultimate weapon. That logic is now under strain.

Recent conflicts have revived a disturbing perception: Tehran was bombed; Pyongyang was spared. One lacked nuclear weapons; the other possessed them. The message implies that security flows not from law, institutions, or restraint, but from the bomb itself.

If this belief takes hold, the consequences will be severe. Middle powers facing coercion, particularly after the threat to Greenland, may conclude that treaties no longer protect them and that institutional guarantees are hollow. Proliferation pressures will grow — not because states seek status, but because they seek survival. A world of cascading nuclear acquisition would not merely weaken multilateralism; it would make systemic war more likely.

The strategic dilemma of middle powers

For middle powers, this transformation presents a stark dilemma. The erosion of institutional protection leaves them exposed to economic coercion, political pressure, and security vulnerability. At the same time, their prosperity remains deeply embedded in global markets and supply chains dominated by major powers.

Passive alignment may offer short-term insulation, but it deepens long-term dependence. Strategic silence preserves access, but erodes the norms that make access meaningful. Collective action, by contrast, carries costs but also creates leverage.

Carney’s call at Davos for coalition-building reflects this reality. So does Macron’s emphasis on strategic autonomy. These are not isolationist impulses. They are defensive strategies aimed at restoring choice in an environment where interdependence increasingly functions as leverage rather than mutual gain.

Yet the risks are real. Supply chains can be disrupted. Markets can be closed. Technology can be denied. Even territorial pressure has reentered mainstream discourse. The question is not whether middle powers prefer multilateralism, but whether they are willing to bear the costs of defending it.

The Global South’s stakes

For countries such as Bangladesh and many others in the Global South, the erosion of multilateralism is not an abstract concern. Institutions have long served as force multipliers — amplifying voice, moderating power, and providing some insulation from geopolitical shockwaves.

Bangladesh’s economic trajectory depends on open trade routes, predictable financial systems, climate cooperation, labour mobility, and maritime stability. It also depends on the principle that sovereignty is not conditional and that interdependence is not a tool of political discipline.

As institutional protections weaken, vulnerability grows. Align too closely and autonomy erodes. Resist alone and retaliation becomes costly. This is precisely why the defense of multilateralism cannot remain a Western project. It must include those who rely on it most.

A narrowing window

The space for middle-power manoevre is shrinking. Strategic hedging, diversification, and coalition-building offer partial protection — but only if pursued collectively. No single middle power can withstand coercion alone. But networks of states — coordinating trade, technology, diplomacy, and institutional reform — can reshape the cost-benefit calculus of unilateralism.

The choice is not between dependence and defiance, but between fragmentation and coordination. Multilateralism must be treated not as inherited architecture, but as strategic infrastructure — something to be defended, adapted, and when necessary, rebuilt.

The rupture and the choice

From Venezuela to Greenland, from institutional erosion to nuclear anxiety, power is increasingly exercised without consent. Yet rupture does not dictate outcome. It creates a moment of decision. If middle powers retreat into bilateral dependence, multilateralism will hollow out — surviving as a ceremony while coercion becomes routine. But if they act together, invest in resilience, and defend institutions as sources of collective leverage, the current fracture could become a point of renewal. The future of global order will not be decided by a single state. It will be shaped by whether middle powers are willing to bear the costs of saying no and capable of building a system in which consent once again restrains power, and rules once again matter.

ASM Tarek Hassan Semul is a Research Fellow at Bangladesh Institute of International and Strategic Studies (BIISS) and Cohort of the Indo-Pacific Young Leaders Program, Asia Pacific Foundation (APF), Canada. He can be reached at [email protected].

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