[#3] Spheres of Influence with Monica Toft

HAMED AL GHAITHI: Hello, and good day. Welcome to another episode of Metamorphosis with me, Hamed Al Ghaithi. Today, we have an esteemed guest — Professor Monica Toft from the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy. Professor Toft directs the Center for Strategic Studies at Fletcher and has authored numerous books on war, peace, religion, and ethnicity. Today, we’ll be discussing her recent article published in International Affairs, titled “The Return of Spheres of Influence.” Professor Toft, welcome to the show.

MONICA TOFT: Thank you for having me, Hamed.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: Thank you so much. Let’s start with the basics — what exactly are spheres of influence?

MONICA TOFT: It’s an interesting and important topic — one that’s often discussed but not well researched. Spheres of influence refer to the idea that major or great powers have a kind of “neighborhood” — a region they consider primarily under their control, where other powers are expected not to interfere. That control can take different forms — economic, political, military, monetary, or even cultural. The key idea is that within this sphere, other states don’t have the right to intervene or engage without permission. It’s actually an ancient concept. You can trace it all the way back to Thucydides, with the rivalry between Sparta and Athens. Later, during the Concert of Europe in the early 19th century, European leaders agreed — at least informally — on which powers controlled which parts of the continent. You see it again in the colonial empires, and even after their dissolution, spheres of influence didn’t disappear. During the Cold War, for instance, there was a clear understanding of where the Western bloc, led by the United States, ended — and where the Eastern bloc, led by the Soviet Union, began.

After the Cold War ended, people tended to forget this concept. But now we’re in a transitional moment again — what I’d call a liminal moment — with the rise of another great power, China, and a resurgent Russia seeking to extend its sphere of influence, perhaps even to the old boundaries of the Soviet Union. So, while it’s an ancient idea, it’s resurfacing. And the critical question now is: where does a great power’s control begin and end — and what kind of control is acceptable in the international system?

HAMED AL GHAITHI: We’ll get to today’s geopolitics in a bit, but I want to ask: are these spheres of influence clearly defined? Do great powers actually know where their spheres begin and end — or are they fluid, contested, dynamic?

MONICA TOFT: They’re dynamic — but they can become fixed. At first, great powers vie for control, often through competition, and sometimes through war or conflict along the buffer zones that lie between them. Eventually, they reach a kind of mutual understanding — sometimes formalized in agreements, sometimes not. The Concert of Europe, for example, was built on a series of pacts brokered by figures like Lord Metternich of Austria-Hungary. For a time, this created stability because everyone understood where the boundaries of influence lay. But stability rarely lasts forever. Over time, one side may start probing — testing whether it can expand its influence into another’s area. That’s exactly what we’ve seen recently with Russia.

Take Ukraine: Russia’s invasion and annexation of territory represent a clear attempt to expand its sphere. Today, the Russian Federation controls roughly 19–20 percent of Ukrainian land. Meanwhile, other Eastern European states — like the Baltics and Poland — are deeply concerned that they could be next. Belarus, of course, is closely allied with Moscow. The West has responded to the war in Ukraine by supporting Kyiv militarily and economically. The Baltic States are now part of NATO, which defines its own clear borders of protection. But the big question is — is Russia satisfied with that? This is what I call the stability–instability paradox. Spheres can solidify and seem stable for years — even decades — but sooner or later, one power tests the limits. And when that happens, the danger is that instability could turn violent and lead to war.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: That’s fascinating — a lot of theory and history. Let’s bring it down to a concrete case. Perhaps the biggest modern example came after World War II, when we saw the emergence of two global blocs: the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact on one side, and NATO, led by the U.S., on the other. How did that happen? How did we reach a world so sharply divided that crossing those boundaries could mean getting shot?

MONICA TOFT: And that literally happened, right? Think about the Berlin Wall, which divided Germany into East and West. The same applies to Korea — another country split in two after the war, into North and South. So how did this all come about? It happened through war. At the end of World War II, the Allied powers — Great Britain, the Soviet Union, and the United States — met at the Yalta Conference. They agreed, broadly, on where the postwar boundaries would lie which parts of Europe would fall under Western influence — largely shaped by the U.S., Britain, and France — and which would come under Soviet influence.

In practice, those divisions corresponded to where each side’s troops were stationed at the war’s end. Where Soviet troops stood became Soviet influence, where Western troops stood became Western. But even then, there were gray zones — buffer areas of disagreement that evolved over time. One of the earliest flashpoints was Asia. It wasn’t clear how influence would play out there. The Soviet Union was a revolutionary communist power. China had undergone a communist revolution, and Korea was still undecided. Each bloc supported different factions within Korea’s leadership. The U.S. thought it was dealing with a small “police action,” but it quickly turned into a devastating war. That war never officially ended — it resulted in a ceasefire, a stalemate — and it set the tone for the entire Cold War. We call it a “cold” war because the two nuclear superpowers, the U.S. and the Soviet Union, never fought each other directly. But there were plenty of proxy wars — conflicts fought indirectly, through allies and client states.

This led to the domino theory, the belief in Washington that if one country fell to communism, others would follow, expanding Soviet influence. A classic example is Cuba, which the U.S. considered part of its own sphere of influence. When the Soviet Union began operating there — famously during the Cuban Missile Crisis — it brought the world to the brink of nuclear war. That crisis was defused thanks to a mix of personal judgment and diplomacy — one Soviet submarine captain, for instance, refused to authorize a nuclear launch, which might have triggered a catastrophe.

So, yes, the Cold War remained “cold” in the sense that it didn’t escalate into direct thermonuclear war. But it was hot in many other places — through proxy wars and ideological struggles around the world, as the U.S. and the Soviet Union competed for control of the so-called “hinterlands” between their spheres. By the 1970s and 1980s, after countless confrontations — from Vietnam to Latin America — both sides began to recognize the limits of their rivalry. Arms control agreements like SALT and later START helped stabilize the relationship. Still, the competition persisted in places like El Salvador and Nicaragua, where communist movements clashed with Western-backed governments. But the crucial point is this: despite constant tension and local wars, there was a mutual understanding between the U.S. and the Soviet Union not to challenge each other’s core spheres of influence directly. That unspoken rule kept the Cold War from turning into a hot one.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: So, to sum it up — toward the end of the Second World War, the Allies met in Yalta and essentially carved up the map. They agreed on Europe first, because Europe mattered most at the time — it was powerful, industrialized, and educated. Germany, in particular, was a major prize with its infrastructure and assets. But they didn’t really discuss much of the rest of the world — Asia, Africa, the Middle East, or Latin America. Over time, competition in those regions evolved, and while the map of influence remained somewhat fluid, the global balance of power gradually solidified.

MONICA TOFT: Yes, that’s exactly right.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: And over time, they managed to keep it under control.

MONICA TOFT: Exactly. But we have to remember — this was also the era of decolonization. Across Africa, Asia, and the Middle East, newly independent states were emerging, and their leaders were trying to decide which path to take: would they align with the socialist-communist model, which threatened the West, or would they move toward liberal democracy? Even within Europe, tensions persisted. When uprisings broke out in Hungary (1956) and Czechoslovakia (1968) demanding greater freedom — in essence, a more liberal, Western-oriented system — Soviet troops intervened to suppress them. So even where spheres of influence seemed settled, there was still contestation.

As post-colonial states tried to navigate their futures, the major powers pressured them to choose sides. The U.S. and the Soviet Union were obsessed with relative power — not just how strong each was, but how much influence each could maintain. The domino theory reflected this mindset: if one country “fell” to the other side, the losing power felt it had to compensate elsewhere to maintain balance. This was the essence of the balance of power — the careful, often tense equilibrium between two dominant blocs, each guarding and expanding its sphere of influence.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: So, the powers were balanced, and the system, while tense, was relatively under control. How did that model of managing world affairs come to an end?

MONICA TOFT: It ended when one of the great powers — the Soviet Union — collapsed. What’s fascinating is that it collapsed from within. Some in the West, including President Ronald Reagan, liked to claim that U.S. pressure brought it down. But in reality, the Soviet system was rotting internally. It simply didn’t work. Communism assumed people would take only what they needed and contribute selflessly to the collective good — but human nature doesn’t quite work that way. The system was inefficient, bureaucratic, and poorly governed. Economic mismanagement, rigid five-year plans, and chronic corruption made it unsustainable.

By the 1970s, deep cracks began to show. The USSR was still recovering from the devastation of World War II, and its economy was stagnating. Then came a series of elderly, short-lived leaders — Andropov, Chernenko — until finally, Mikhail Gorbachev rose to power in the mid-1980s. Gorbachev didn’t want to end the Communist Party; he wanted to reform it — to make it more humane through glasnost (openness) and perestroika (restructuring). But those reforms had unintended consequences. People began to speak freely, and many questioned whether they wanted to remain under Moscow’s control.

Soon, independence and nationalist movements swept across the Soviet republics — the Baltic states (Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania), the Chechens, the Tatars, and others. The union unraveled rapidly. By 1991, under Boris Yeltsin, the Soviet Union had formally dissolved, collapsing under its own contradictions. That left the United States as the sole global superpower — the so-called unipolar moment of the 1990s.

Initially, Washington sought to lead through legitimacy and multilateralism. After Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait in 1990, President George H. W. Bush rallied a broad international coalition — even with U.N. backing — to expel Iraqi forces. It was a moment of unity and respect for international law: that borders cannot be changed by force. But over time, U.S. power became overextended. The U.S. intervened in Somalia to deliver humanitarian aid, but the mission shifted into a regime-change effort. It ended disastrously, with American casualties and a chaotic withdrawal. Then came Rwanda — a genocide that killed between 500,000 and one million people. The U.S. and its allies stood by. That failure deeply damaged America’s moral legitimacy: how could the world’s superpower fail to stop such horror?

Shortly after, war erupted in Yugoslavia — in Europe’s heart — and again, Western powers struggled to act decisively. The Russian Federation remained a major player, and its interests complicated intervention. Meanwhile, NATO expanded eastward, incorporating countries that had once been within the Soviet sphere. While those nations sought membership voluntarily, the move was perceived in Moscow as a direct threat.

By the late 1990s, the U.S. was acting increasingly unilaterally — what I call “using sharp elbows.” Then came September 11, 2001. The U.S. was attacked, and the world — even Iran, historically hostile to Washington — expressed sympathy. For a brief moment, there was global solidarity. But instead of recalibrating, the U.S. launched two massive wars — in Afghanistan and Iraq — that consumed the next two decades and severely eroded its international standing.

When I teach my students at Fletcher, I talk about what I call the Hubris–Humility Index. The U.S. became too hubristic — acting before fully understanding local cultures, histories, and the diplomatic alternatives to force. And while Washington grew overconfident, others were watching — especially Russia and China. They learned from America’s mistakes, and they stopped trusting its intentions. They began building their own strength and influence, setting the stage for the new multipolar era we find ourselves in today.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: Thank you — that was a very clear and informative overview.

If we contrast the spheres of influence you described — the post–Second World War order — with the world today, we see something entirely different. Some call it a new paradigm; others call it chaos. We see tensions everywhere: the Pacific, Europe, the Middle East — Iran, Gaza, Azerbaijan and Armenia. The United Nations seems absent. So, who’s really in control now?

MONICA TOFT: That’s the beauty — and the curse — of the international system: nobody is truly in control. There’s no “global 911” to call when things go wrong. I wouldn’t say that the United States was ever fully in control, even in the 1990s, but it certainly had the capacity to shape the system more thoughtfully than it did. It could have used that unipolar moment to design a more stable order.

When I think about today’s world, I prefer to use the term “spheres of power” rather than just “spheres of influence.” The idea is broader. It’s not just political or military anymore — it’s also economic and technological. Historically, spheres of influence were about territory and alliances. But now, technology permeates everything. It underpins political-military capabilities, drives economic systems, and stands as a domain of competition in its own right.

So today, we have at least three intersecting spheres:

1. Political-military power
2. Economic and financial power
3. Technological power

And technology touches them all — from artificial intelligence (AI) and biotechnology to quantum computing. Warfare itself has changed. It’s harder to defeat an opponent purely on the battlefield. Power is now a holistic enterprise — political, economic, and technological all at once. States have to think and act across these domains simultaneously, and that makes the game far more complex — and much faster.

If you think about the historical transition from the British Empire to U.S. dominance, that took nearly a century. The current transition — with China’s rise — is unfolding in barely a decade. That speed is disorienting, and it’s part of why the world feels so unstable. You’re absolutely right: there’s contestation everywhere, especially in Asia. The United States remains a global power, and its foreign policy traditionally rests on four pillars — what I like to call its “four table legs”:

1. Non-proliferation: This explains U.S. opposition to countries like Iran and North Korea acquiring nuclear weapons. From the Cold War onward, Washington has sought to prevent the spread of nuclear arms. A few states joined the nuclear club — India and Pakistan, notably — but the principle of non-proliferation has mostly held.

1. Open markets and free trade: The U.S. has championed global trade liberalization, building institutions like the Bretton Woods system and later the World Trade Organization, ensuring the free flow of goods, services, and capital.

1. Preventing regional hegemons: The U.S. does not like to see any single power dominate its region. That’s why China poses such a challenge — it’s not only a regional hegemon in Asia but aspires to become a global one.

1. Human rights and democracy promotion: Historically, this was a key tenet of U.S. policy. But it’s less central today. The current U.S. administration emphasizes containing regional powers — especially China — over promoting democracy.

China, by contrast, takes a very different approach. It doesn’t interfere in domestic politics. It’s indifferent to whether a partner is democratic or authoritarian. What it wants are trade relationships and bilateral deals that strengthen its influence.

So now, we’re clashing on several fronts:

• On the political-military front, over Taiwan, where the U.S. has pledged to defend an ally.
• On the economic front, through China’s Belt and Road Initiative, which builds influence via infrastructure and debt.
• And on the technological front — the new battleground — with competition in AI, semiconductors, and advanced computing.

The shock in Washington when China demonstrated cutting-edge AI capabilities — and did so cheaply and effectively — was real. Beijing has made it clear it aims to dominate the tech space. All this makes today’s spheres of power feel chaotic. The pace of change, and the overlap between these domains, is dizzying. Every move in one sphere ripples through the others — economically, militarily, politically.

Take the conflict between Azerbaijan and Armenia, for example. It was the first war decisively shaped by modern drone technology — cheap, effective, and deployed in swarms, many supplied by Turkey. Azerbaijan’s use of this technology changed the outcome of the war and shifted control of Nagorno-Karabakh.

That case woke people up. It showed how trade, technology, and military power are now deeply interlinked. Modern conflicts no longer sit neatly in one domain. To understand power today, you have to grasp how these forces intersect — and how technology accelerates them all.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: That’s a great point. I don’t know if this new model offers hope for smaller states — or nightmares. At least under the old system of spheres of influence, states knew their fate. They were bound to one bloc, protected by their hegemon — and if they tried to leave it, they paid a price.

But now, the current system — or the lack of one — feels constantly in flux. Countries like Azerbaijan and Armenia are shifting alliances and seeking new strategic partners. Armenia, for instance, after losing to Azerbaijan, is now reaching out to the United States and exploring new treaties. So, are we moving toward stability under this evolving order? Or does it mean constant chaos, where leaders of smaller and medium-sized states don’t know which way to turn? Especially now that, beyond the superpowers, there are also regional hegemons — like Turkey in Central Asia — shaping events. Is this world becoming clearer or more confusing for leaders and communities?

MONICA TOFT: That’s a great question, Hamed. And the answer, I think, is both. It can be advantageous for smaller and medium powers — but also risky if they’re not careful.

The advantage lies in flexibility. These states can trade economically with China, while maintaining strategic and security partnerships with the United States. We see this pattern in the Gulf states — they do extensive business with China yet host American military bases. The same is true for Singapore, which trades with both Washington and Beijing while hedging its bets strategically.

In my article “The Return of Spheres of Influence” (International Affairs, March 2024), I discuss this idea of hedging. Smaller and medium powers must now hedge their interests across three domains — economic, political-military, and technological. Done wisely, hedging offers them leverage. They can pursue diversified relations — joining U.S.-led security networks while engaging in Chinese infrastructure or trade initiatives — to secure their national interests.

The danger comes when they bet too heavily on one side. The key is to balance exposure across these spheres — to think in terms of second, third, and fourth-order consequences. Take technology, for example. If a country chooses a particular 5G infrastructure — say, one provided by China versus one supported by the U.S. — that decision carries geopolitical consequences for decades. Some states may choose to adopt both, managing risk through diversification.

So yes, it can be more costly in the short term — but in the long term, this hedging can ensure resilience and autonomy as the global system shifts. We’re still in the middle of that transition; the system hasn’t yet stabilized. There’s no clear structure — no new “Yalta moment” — to define boundaries or rules. And to complicate things further, we can’t ignore American domestic politics.

Right now, the United States has President Donald J. Trump, a highly unpredictable leader. He could, in theory, be an effective president, especially given how much power he holds. Congress has largely abdicated its responsibilities — it’s not legislating, not even passing budgets — which gives the executive vast latitude in foreign policy.

But Trump’s governing style is mercurial. He changes his mind often, sometimes based on the last person he talks to. That makes it very hard for smaller and medium powers to know where the U.S. stands — and how they should maneuver.

On the other hand, this administration is very transactional. If there’s a deal to be made, it will listen. That creates opportunities — but also volatility. So smaller and medium states will need to be deft, capable, and forward-thinking. They’ll have to hedge and rebalance constantly, aligning with different great powers across different domains.

It doesn’t have to be a world of chaos and vulnerability. If managed smartly, this fluidity can open space for agency — for new deals, partnerships, and strategic independence — as long as those states keep an eye on the long game.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: Interesting. Let’s look at it from another angle. It’s increasingly difficult for small and medium powers to navigate this confusion. Six decades ago, they only had to count tanks and missiles — hard power. Now, as you explained, power itself is fragmented across several fronts: technology, economics, and military capability. So how do the great powers manage their clashes across these different domains today? Fifty years ago, if an American soldier crossed from West Germany into East Germany, they’d be shot. But now, it’s not about soldiers — it’s about ships, trade, tariffs, even seizing your rival’s assets, like what we’ve seen with Russia. Without a new “Yalta,” how do the great powers manage this complexity?

HAMED AL GHAITHI: Full agreement — yes.

MONICA TOFT: So, one of the things I point out in my article is that we’re living in a very unusual moment. There’s a wonderful book by Albert Hirschman called The Passions and the Interests. He explains how governance historically shifted from the passions of kings and monarchs to the more rational interests of states.

What’s striking about our current era — even within democracies — is how personalized global politics has become again. Relationships between leaders increasingly shape international outcomes. President Trump, for instance, has personal ties with Vladimir Putin, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, Viktor Orbán, Xi Jinping, and Benjamin Netanyahu. You hope that when these men sit around a table, they recognize what’s at stake — because what we absolutely do not want is large-scale war.

Once violence begins, it’s very hard to pull it back. Emotions take over. My father once told me when I got married, “Monica, it’s cheaper to get married than to get divorced.” It’s the same with war — it’s cheaper to start one than to end one. So, you hope that those in power understand this. I believe President Xi does not want violence; he values stability. I’m less sure about Vladimir Putin, and honestly not sure about Donald Trump either. He seems far more comfortable with the use of force.

History shows that wars can start not only from armies clashing, but also from economic collapses, sanctions, and financial shocks. The question is whether these men — and at this point, it is all men — are clear-minded enough to weigh the true costs of violence.

It worries me because we now live in a world of personalized regimes, concentrated power, and leaders driven by legacy, pride, or grievance. The best we can hope for is that when we approach the brink, they have channels of communication open.

During the Cuban Missile Crisis, it was the personal trust between the U.S. Secretary of State and the Soviet ambassador that prevented catastrophe. They knew each other. They could talk. We need that kind of diplomacy now. But smaller states — like Ukraine and the Baltic nations — are understandably anxious. I was in Latvia last spring; people there are very nervous. Even in the Caribbean, we’re seeing U.S. use of force against fast-moving smuggling vessels.

Still, among the great powers there remains one crucial understanding: no one wants thermonuclear war. That’s why there are no Western troops in Ukraine. Everyone knows the stakes. The only foreign soldiers reportedly fighting there are North Korean proxies supporting Russia. So, we’re seeing proxy confrontations again — in the South China Sea, in Europe’s buffer zones, in the Caribbean — but not direct clashes between great powers. And that’s an important, if fragile, line of restraint.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: That actually makes me more worried — because relying on personal relationships to sustain world order sounds terrifying.

MONICA TOFT: Yes, I agree.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: Insults fly easily, egos are fragile, and some of these men are vindictive. They want to leave behind a personal legacy of strength.

MONICA TOFT: Exactly.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: And beyond that — they’re mortal. They can lose power or die at any moment. We’ve seen how quickly systems unravel when the person holding it together disappears. Look at Bismarck in Germany — a brilliant statesman, but once he was dismissed by the Kaiser, all those delicate balances he built collapsed. The entire system he sustained gradually slid toward the First World War.

MONICA TOFT: Yes — exactly. And that brings us back to the importance of institutions. As an American, I have to say this: the United States itself is the wild card in today’s international system. We know what China wants — regional hegemony in Asia, economic growth, and the survival of the Communist Party. We know what Russia wants — national revival, control over its near abroad, and a restoration of power, as Putin laid out clearly in his 2021 essay on Russian identity and empire.

But the United States? That’s the uncertain factor. Its institutions — Congress, the Supreme Court, the executive branch — are not functioning as they should. Power has become highly concentrated in the presidency. In recent decades, U.S. governance has been dominated by executive orders — one president issuing them, the next unwinding them — instead of Congress legislating durable policy. The balance of powers envisioned by the Constitution is faltering.

After the first Trump administration, people asked whether it was a blip or a trend. Now that he’s been re-elected — with more votes than before — it looks more like a trend. He’s a legitimate president, chosen by a majority of Americans, but the implications are serious. Just yesterday, there were thousands of “No Kings” rallies across the U.S., protesting the excessive power of the executive. Citizens are beginning to realize that too much authority is now vested in one office — in one person.

The question is whether American institutions can correct course before that imbalance leads to deeper dysfunction. Scholars, myself included, have been writing and warning: Wake up, Congress. Wake up, Supreme Court. Because this isn’t what the framers of the Constitution intended. They designed a system of checks and balances precisely to prevent one branch — or one individual — from dominating.

You asked earlier how we ended up in this “liminal moment.” The Soviet Union collapsed from within — its institutions rotted. My fear is that we may now be watching the United States drift down a similar path. You’re right to feel uneasy. It is an unnerving time.

But we’re not past the point of no return. The future depends on whether rational, principled leadership re-emerges — leadership that restores institutional integrity and respect for balance. As an American citizen — one who literally carries the Constitution with me — I hope deeply that we don’t slide into the same trap: a once-great democratic system eroding into autocracy, only to collapse from within.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: Let’s hope that doesn’t happen soon. So, you’ve spoken about great powers — the U.S., China, Russia, perhaps the EU in some capacity. But what about the rest of the world? What are the options for smaller and medium states? If influence now operates across multiple domains — military, economic, technological — can these states form blocs of their own? Maybe not permanent ones, but at least temporary coalitions over shared issues or interests, to push back against the major powers? Do they have any real room to maneuver and shape their own destinies?

MONICA TOFT: Yes — and in fact, we’re already seeing that. Take the BRICS grouping — Brazil, Russia, India, China, and now South Africa. These are large, influential countries, and India, now the world’s most populous state, has substantial room to maneuver. We saw something similar during the Cold War — the Non-Aligned Movement, led by countries like Yugoslavia and India, which sought to avoid taking sides in the U.S.–Soviet rivalry.

Today, we’re witnessing the return of that kind of strategic flexibility. Smaller and medium powers can aggregate their influence to form balancing coalitions — issue-based, interest-based, or regional. The European Union is one such example. If it remains cohesive — committed to climate goals, human rights, and democratic values — it can act as a pole of attraction, drawing others toward its model of governance.

So yes, there’s room for maneuver. Even during the height of bipolar confrontation, states found ways to remain neutral or engage selectively with each bloc. Hedging remains not only possible, but essential. It’s a matter of smart strategy — knowing when to align, when to resist, and when to balance between rivals.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: That’s true, but it’s also incredibly difficult. You mentioned the Gulf states earlier — trading extensively with China while relying on the U.S. for security guarantees. But that’s not an easy balance to maintain. Under the Biden administration, they faced intense pressure to boycott Russia after the invasion of Ukraine, to impose sanctions on Chinese tech firms, or withdraw investments from them. So, it’s not a clear-cut hedging strategy. There’s constant frustration, and you can sense it. If even the Gulf states — with resources and experience — struggle to manage this balancing act, what hope do smaller nations have?

MONICA TOFT: You’re absolutely right. It’s fraught with complexity, and there’s no easy way out of it. The best hope for smaller and medium powers is to build resilient relationships over time — relationships rooted in trust and mutual interest — so that even if they falter, they can recover. We’re already seeing the rise of new balancing coalitions that don’t fit neatly into the old East–West binary. But to succeed, states need to identify their comparative advantages — what unique assets they can bring to the table.

For the Gulf states, that might mean becoming hubs for finance, logistics, or technology — perhaps even leading in green energy or biotech innovation. We’re already seeing investments in data centers and digital infrastructure, which can give them leverage in the global economy. No country is truly indispensable — but those that offer unique capabilities can “punch above their weight.” By doing so, they gain diplomatic room to maneuver and can resist binary choices imposed by great powers.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: Another question that troubles me — big powers tend to have consistent policies over long periods. For instance, since World War II, the American posture in the Middle East hasn’t really changed: pro-Israel, supportive of Gulf allies, maintaining a balance of order. But now, as global power dynamics shift, could we see drastic changes in these historically entrenched policies — say, in the U.S. position toward the Middle East or Taiwan?

MONICA TOFT: Potentially, yes — and we’re already seeing signs of that. This is one reason Taiwan is so anxious. There’s growing uncertainty about whether the current administration will uphold previous U.S. commitments.

Even before this presidency, Washington was already debating a “pivot to Asia” — arguing that, with the shale revolution making the U.S. a net energy exporter, it no longer needed to focus as heavily on the Middle East. But the reality is, the U.S. keeps getting pulled back. Its relationship with Israel, ongoing regional instability, and the presence of other powers like China and Russia make disengagement nearly impossible.

Meanwhile, Europe faces its own anxieties about NATO — wondering whether the U.S. would truly defend it in the event of a deeper crisis, especially around Ukraine. So yes, long-held policies could shift. Nothing in geopolitics stays fixed forever. We’ve been in a state of slow transition since the end of the Cold War — and we’re now reaching a critical point in that evolution. Some in Washington — especially the “China watchers” — would love to see the U.S. fully pivot to the Indo-Pacific, focusing on China, India, and the South China Sea. But the U.S. can’t seem to disentangle itself from the Middle East — because its interests, alliances, and rivalries there remain deeply embedded.

And the truth is, the world has become so interconnected that no power can focus on one region anymore. It’s the “butterfly effect” of globalization — what happens in one corner of the world affects everything else. You see this with the Caribbean, too — a region the U.S. once considered “solved,” now back in focus because of transnational crime and drug trafficking. Your question really captures this paradox: we live in a truly global world now, and that makes it impossible for any country — even a superpower — to look away from any region for long.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: And this brings me to another puzzle. You’ve mentioned NATO, but what about the United Nations? It’s striking that during the recent Gaza ceasefire deal; the U.N. was entirely absent. No one knows what legal framework it’s under — who guarantees it, who enforces it. So where is the U.N. today? Is it still essential, or has it become dispensable in this new order? What’s your take?

MONICA TOFT: You know, the United Nations is interesting. It gets criticized a lot — especially in the United States, where some people still view it as a kind of global government. But it’s not. The UN is only as strong as the member states that support it — particularly the P5, the five permanent members of the Security Council. Whenever the P5 are in conflict, the UN itself inevitably suffers. The truth is, the UN has never been a powerful entity in the coercive sense. Its real strength lies in discourse — in creating a space for dialogue, debate, and sometimes, the airing of very difficult conversations.

You’re right that the UN hasn’t been central to the recent Gaza peace process — but it hasn’t been central to many recent peace efforts. That doesn’t mean those efforts will fail, but it does reflect the UN’s limitations when great powers veto or block one another. There have been calls for decades to reform and restructure the UN system, because the world has changed. India, for example, is now the world’s largest country — yet it isn’t a permanent member of the Security Council. Meanwhile, the United Kingdom, now a middle power, remains one. The system is outdated.

Still, the UN remains valuable as a forum — where every member, regardless of size, has a sovereign voice. It’s a place where smaller states can raise issues, develop aid programs, or shape political and conceptual frameworks. For example, the Responsibility to Protect doctrine — the idea that states have a duty to intervene when governments brutalize their own populations — emerged from UN discussions after the atrocities of the 1990s. It didn’t always work, as we saw in Libya, where the mission expanded beyond its mandate, but it showed that the world can collectively define new norms.

In other cases, like Kosovo, the U.S. bypassed the UN entirely — a move widely viewed as violating the UN Charter. So yes, the UN matters — because it gives us a place to debate, conceptualize, and hold each other accountable — but it has never been an independent global actor. Right now, it’s struggling for relevance because the great powers are operating outside it, pursuing their own coalitions and bilateral deals. The UN still matters symbolically and morally — but practically, it’s on the sidelines.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: In light of everything you’ve said today, I want to end with one final question. What about morality — and ethics? When we talk about power, influence, and force — what’s moral? What’s not? The UN can’t really define that anymore; it’s contested. The U.S. challenges UN resolutions, and so do Russia and China. So how do people like you and me — scholars, citizens, observers — frame our understanding of what’s right or wrong in world affairs? What principles should we use?

MONICA TOFT: That’s a profound question — and not an easy one. Even during what we think of as the “orderly” period from 1945 to 1990, there wasn’t a shared ethical code. The UN Charter gave us some common language: the equality and sovereignty of states, the inviolability of borders, and the right to use force only in self-defense. Those principles echoed the Treaty of Westphalia (1648) — but they’ve always been ideals, not consistent realities.

We’re now in a period where moral codes are fully contested. But the underlying ethical traditions — ideas like protecting non-combatants, limiting violence, and distinguishing between soldiers and civilians — have existed for centuries, across cultures and religions. Whether from Christian just-war theory, Islamic jurisprudence, or secular humanism, these norms converge on one principle: that war should have limits, and that innocent life should be protected.

Today, those norms are being tested — by authoritarian systems, by new technologies, by cyber and AI-driven conflicts. But I believe they still hold. They’re embedded in our moral DNA and in international law. The challenge is to return to them — to keep them alive in how we think about and conduct our affairs, both as individuals and as states.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: That’s beautifully said. As you were speaking, a song came to mind — by Avicii. One line goes: “I tried carrying the weight of the world, but I only have two hands.” It captures what you’ve been saying — no one can manage the world’s affairs alone. We need a community. But building that sense of community today seems harder than ever.

MONICA TOFT: Yes, but it’s not impossible. People are waking up to that reality. The European Union has never been more united. NATO is more coordinated than it’s been in decades. There’s a shared understanding that Putin’s war in Ukraine is wrong — a violation of international law. So don’t despair. There’s still reason for hope. The United States, too, may correct itself. Institutions bend; they don’t always break.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: Let’s hope so. Professor Toft, thank you so much — for your time, your insights, and for such a rich conversation.

MONICA TOFT: Thank you, Hamed. It’s been a pleasure.

HAMED AL GHAITHI: Thank you.