For much of the past two decades, Argentina has enjoyed an outsized reputation among progressive audiences abroad. It was one of the first countries in the world to legalize same-sex marriage, a regional pioneer in transgender rights, and the birthplace of the Marea Verde, the feminist wave that helped normalize abortion rights across Latin America and beyond. Domestically, Argentina appeared as a rare case where democracy, redistribution, and social progress advanced together.

Its foreign policy, however, tells a more contradictory story.

Rather than a simple oscillation between Kirchnerist leftism and Javier Milei’s libertarian radicalism, Argentina’s international trajectory reflects a deeper structural problem: both projects attempted to organize foreign policy through populist logics in a world no longer governed by stable hegemonies. To understand why this strategy worked at home but failed abroad, it is necessary to examine how populist reasoning operates, and where its limits lie.

Why Populism Worked at Home

The Kirchnerist era is inseparable from the theoretical framework developed by Ernesto Laclau. In Hegemony and Socialist Strategy and later On Populist Reason Laclau argued that political identities are constructed through discourse rather than pre-existing social categories.^{1 2} A political “people” emerges by linking heterogeneous demands into a chain of equivalence, unified against a common antagonist.

This logic proved highly effective in Argentina’s domestic politics. Labor unions, human-rights organizations, feminist movements, and economically marginalized groups were articulated into a broad pueblo opposed to neoliberal elites and international financial institutions. Despite internal tensions, these actors shared a fundamental democratic baseline: elections, civil liberties, and constitutional legitimacy were not in dispute.

This shared normative ground is essential. Laclau’s populist logic presupposes a political arena where conflict occurs within democracy. Foreign policy does not operate under these conditions.

Exporting the Chain of Equivalence

Cristina Fernández de Kirchner sought to extend this domestic logic to the international arena by framing Argentina as part of a Global South coalition resisting U.S.-led liberal hegemony. As Pereyra Doval and Colalongo show, Kirchnerist foreign policy was explicitly constructed as counter-hegemonic, grounded in South–South cooperation and opposition to Western financial power.

China fits relatively smoothly into this framework. Beyond its diplomatic support for Argentina’s Malvinas claim, Beijing offered infrastructure investment and alternatives to Washington-based financial institutions, reinforcing its image as a credible counterweight to U.S. dominance. Russia played a similar symbolic role.

The contradictions emerged when the logic of equivalence was stretched beyond strategic balancing and into normative alignment.

Iran and the Moral Limits of Equivalence

The 2013 Memorandum of Understanding with Iran exposed the fragility of Kirchnerist foreign policy. Iran was not merely another state marginalized by the West; it was formally accused by Argentine prosecutors of orchestrating the 1994 AMIA bombing, the deadliest antisemitic attack in the country’s history.

By pursuing diplomatic normalization, the Kirchnerist government attempted to incorporate Iran into a broader anti-imperialist coalition. Yet this move collided sharply with Argentina’s post-dictatorship identity as a defender of human rights and judicial accountability. Critics argued that the agreement subordinated justice to geopolitical expediency, creating the appearance, if not the reality, of complicity.

From a Laclaunian perspective, this was not hypocrisy but conceptual overstretch. A chain of equivalence can unite heterogeneous actors only so long as their differences do not negate the values binding the chain together. Iran’s political system, grounded in religious law, gender inequality, and repression of dissent, could not be reconciled with Argentina’s progressive self-image. The chain snapped.

ALBA and the Democracy Problem

A similar contradiction emerged in Argentina’s alignment with ALBA governments such as Venezuela and Cuba. Framed as expressions of anti-imperialist solidarity, these partnerships associated Argentina with regimes that systematically eroded democratic institutions, repressed opposition, and restricted civil liberties.

As Colalongo and Sezek note, these alignments offered limited strategic benefit while imposing significant reputational costs. Domestically, Kirchnerism championed feminism, LGBTQ+ rights, and the memory politics of Nunca Más. Internationally, it defended governments that criminalized protest and dismantled judicial independence.

Here, the limits of populist foreign policy became evident. Foreign policy lacks the shared normative ground that allows populist equivalence to function domestically. Antagonism alone cannot substitute for institutional compatibility.

A Counter-Hegemonic Project, Now Closed

With the benefit of hindsight, Kirchnerist foreign policy can be understood as a completed cycle. Its counter-hegemonic ambition was coherent in intent but fragile in execution, and its limits cannot be explained simply by the external pressure of neoliberal globalization.

As Andrés Malamud and Federico Schenoni argue, Latin America’s declining relevance in world politics is best understood as a long-term structural trend, evidenced by the region’s diminishing share of global population, economic output, and diplomatic weight. In their Nueva Sociedad article, this marginality is not treated as the result of a single policy failure or ideological orientation, but as a sustained trajectory shaped by enduring systemic constraints and weak regional coordination. Their analysis thus describes a specific historical configuration in which Latin America’s international influence steadily eroded, regardless of shifts in domestic political orientation.

In a complementary argument developed in Foreign Policy, Malamud and Schenoni further contend that Latin America’s loss of visibility on the global stage was reinforced by the broader international context of the post-Cold War era: a period marked by U.S. unipolarity, limited strategic rivalry in the region, and the absence of issues that would make Latin America central to great-power competition. Within such a system, even ambitious foreign-policy projects faced narrow margins for success.

What has changed since, however, is not merely the orientation of Latin American governments, but the structure of the international system itself, raising new questions about whether the conditions that underpinned this earlier diagnosis of irrelevance continue to hold.

Milei and the Illusion of Restoration

Javier Milei’s foreign policy is often portrayed as a radical rupture, and ideologically it is. He rejects Global South solidarity and seeks explicit alignment with the United States and the Western liberal order, presenting Washington not as an imperial adversary but as a civilizational ally.

Yet this project unfolds in a world fundamentally different from the one Kirchnerism sought to resist. The era of neoliberal globalization as a stable hegemonic order has ended. The rise of explicit great-power competition, reflected in recent U.S. security doctrine, has altered the conditions that once sustained Latin America’s marginality.

This does not mean the region has become powerful or autonomous. Rather, its irrelevance can no longer be assumed.

Milei’s attempted realignment faces structural constraints: Argentina remains commercially tied to China, financially dependent on the IMF, and embedded in regional and institutional relationships that cannot be undone at will. His foreign policy therefore remains an open project, subject to adjustment rather than definitive evaluation.

Conclusion: Populism After Unipolarity

Argentina’s recent foreign policy history reveals a broader lesson about the limits of populism beyond ideology. Populist logics can successfully articulate heterogeneous democratic demands within a shared institutional framework. When projected onto the international system, however, those same logics falter.

Kirchnerism’s counter-hegemonic project collapsed under normative contradictions exposed by alliances with authoritarian regimes. Milei’s neoliberal realignment remains an unfinished reaction to the same structural transformation: the end of unipolarity and the fragmentation of global order.

Both projects sought ideological coherence in a world increasingly resistant to it. Argentina’s foreign policy dilemma, therefore, is not primarily ideological but structural. Resolving Argentina’s foreign policy dilemma will require abandoning the illusion that global politics can be organized through populist equivalence alone.

1. Laclau, Ernesto, and Chantal Mouffe. Hegemony and Socialist Strategy: Towards a Radical Democratic Politics. Repr. London: Verso, 1999. ↩︎
2. Laclau, Ernesto. On Populist Reason. London: Verso, 2005. ↩︎

Featured/Headline Image Caption and Citation: Javier Milei, Image sourced from Live and Let’s Fly | CC License, no changes made

The affirmative asylum system in the United States is designed to function as a linear legal pathway in which applicants file Form I-589, attend biometrics appointments, appear for interviews, and receive decisions within a reasonable period. In principle, time is intended to act as a neutral administrative mechanism. In practice, prolonged interview delays have turned time into a central force that shapes the evidentiary, economic, and psychological dimensions of an applicant’s case. This paper compares the intended structure of the asylum process with the lived outcomes created by extensive interview backlogs. Drawing on work completed at the International Rescue Committee (IRC) in Atlanta, this analysis argues that the formal design of asylum law and the realities generated by delay operate on different timelines, producing consequences the policy framework does not anticipate.

Existing scholarship has long documented how extended asylum adjudication timelines produce predictable harms. Rebecca Hamlin argues that prolonged delays destabilize applicants’ lives and undermine the legitimacy of the asylum system.¹ Jaya Ramji-Nogales, Andrew Schoenholtz, and Philip Schrag similarly show that uncertainty and long waits exacerbate trauma and make it more difficult for asylum seekers to present consistent testimony.² Policy research from the Migration Policy Institute attributes today’s backlog to structural staffing shortages and shifting adjudicatory priorities within U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS). Together, these studies provide an academic foundation for understanding how interview delays shape applicants’ experiences, reflecting many of the patterns identified in this analysis.

While the affirmative asylum process is designed around a predictable administrative sequence, interview scheduling practices reveal how quickly that structure breaks down in practice. Affirmative asylum interviews were originally conducted in the order applications were received. In 2018, U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services reinstated the “last in, first out” (LIFO) interview scheduling system, prioritizing newer filings over older ones. The stated goal was to deter meritless filings by resolving recent cases quickly. However, legal scholarship shows that LIFO did not operate as intended. Hamlin describes LIFO as producing a two-track adjudication regime, in which new filings move quickly while older cases remain stalled. Migration Policy Institute research similarly finds that LIFO has not reduced the overall backlog but instead redirected limited adjudicatory resources away from long-pending applicants.

In practice, LIFO created a dual timeline. Applicants who filed recently may receive interviews within months, while thousands who filed before the policy change remain in multiyear stagnation. Asylum offices themselves acknowledge that pre-LIFO backlogs often remain untouched through USCIS Asylum Division Quarterly Stakeholder Engagement updates. The formal policy timeline envisions predictable progression, while the backlog timeline produces uncertainty and prolonged inactivity. This structural contradiction illustrates how efficiency measures designed to improve processing fail to produce consistent outcomes, particularly for long-pending applicants.

These delays also interact with asylum law’s assumptions about evidence and credibility. The REAL ID Act of 2005 requires applicants to present detailed, internally consistent testimony and to provide corroborating evidence when available. The legal framework assumes that applicants can reasonably access evidence and accurately recall events at the time of interview. Extended delays complicate both assumptions. Applicants interviewed years after filing must recall precise dates, sequences, and details of traumatic experiences. Research in psychiatry and refugee studies demonstrates that trauma and the passage of time affect memory in ways asylum adjudication rarely accounts for.³

Evidence collection is similarly affected by delay. Letters from witnesses, medical documentation, political membership records, and police reports are often easier to obtain shortly after flight and significantly more difficult to secure several years later. The asylum system is structured around timely evidence submission, but prolonged backlogs reshape the evidentiary landscape in ways unrelated to credibility or claim strength. As a result, delay itself becomes a source of disadvantage, weakening cases through procedural time rather than substantive merit.

Economic stability represents another area where policy assumptions diverge from lived experience. The asylum employment authorization clock is intended to allow applicants to work legally after their case has been pending for a defined period. Regulations permit applicants to request an Employment Authorization Document (EAD) after 150 days and to receive one after 180 days, provided no applicant-caused delays occur, as outlined by U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. In theory, the clock promotes orderly processing while discouraging premature work authorization.

In practice, the asylum clock is frequently misunderstood, inadvertently paused, or affected by procedural barriers such as biometric rescheduling or notices that applicants never receive. U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services policy explicitly states that the clock stops when an applicant is deemed to have caused a delay. Many applicants file without legal representation and are unaware of how easily the clock can be stopped, resulting in extended periods without lawful income. National research reflects these realities. The American Immigration Council and Migration Policy Institute document how delays in work authorization increase risks of housing instability, food insecurity, and exploitative labor conditions for asylum seekers, as documented by the Migration Policy Institute. These findings situate the economic struggles described here within broader national trends.

Some observers argue that longer timelines allow applicants and legal representatives additional time to strengthen their cases. On paper, extended preparation periods might support more complete documentation, expert reports, or corroborating evidence. In practice, however, this time is not strategic but compulsory. Many applicants use delays to gather documents that were inaccessible immediately after fleeing persecution or to secure legal representation after filing pro se to meet the one-year deadline. These adaptations respond to systemic delay rather than reflecting benefits of thoughtful policy design.

Backlogs also transform the role of legal service providers. In theory, providers support applicants through a straightforward sequence of filings and interviews. Under prolonged delay conditions, their responsibilities expand substantially. At IRC Atlanta, routine tasks include assembling evidence packets well in advance of scheduled interviews, drafting declarations that must remain accurate despite multi-year gaps, updating addresses to prevent missed notices, preparing work authorization renewals amid shifting processing times, and explaining the implications of LIFO and the asylum clock. Legal service providers must anticipate risks created by administrative delay, including unexpected interview notices or outdated documentation, effectively operating as long-term case managers rather than short-term legal preparers.

Comparing the formal design of the affirmative asylum system with the lived outcomes produced by prolonged interview delays reveals a persistent misalignment between policy intent and practice. The system envisions timely interviews, stable evidence collection, consistent testimony, and a clear path to lawful employment. Backlogs disrupt these assumptions, constraining economic stability, complicating credibility assessments, and reshaping the responsibilities of legal service providers. Viewed in an international context, these delays are not inevitable. Canada’s asylum system, while also affected by backlogs, generally provides earlier access to work authorization and clearer procedural timelines, reducing some of the economic and evidentiary pressures created by prolonged waiting. Recognizing how administrative time itself produces legal harm is essential for meaningful reform. An asylum system designed to protect people fleeing persecution cannot rely on timelines that undermine fairness, destabilize applicants, and erode the integrity of adjudication.

1. Rebecca Hamlin, Let Me Be a Refugee: Administrative Justice and the Politics of Asylum in the United States, Canada, and Australia (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014). ↩︎
2. Jaya Ramji-Nogales, Andrew I. Schoenholtz, and Philip G. Schrag, Refugee Roulette: Disparities in Asylum Adjudication and Proposals for Reform (New York: New York University Press, 2009). ↩︎
3. Jane Herlihy, Kate Gleeson, and Stuart Turner, “What Assumptions About Memory Lead to Unfairness in Asylum Hearings?” European Journal of Psychotraumatology 1 (2010). https://doi.org/10.3402/ejpt.v1i0.544 ↩︎

Featured/Headline Image Caption and Citation: Hands holding US Flags, Image sourced from RawPixel | CC License, no changes made

For just one time I would take the Northwest Passage

To find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea

Tracing one warm line through a land so wide and savage

And make a Northwest Passage to the Sea.

“Northwest Passage,”Stan Rogers, 1981.

During the Age of Sail, countless sailors attempted to traverse the frigid arctic waters of the North Pole in search of a maritime route that would cut down on shipping costs and travel time. However, due to the treacherous conditions, rogue ice sheets, and insufficient advancements in naval technology, all expeditions ended in failure and death. Nevertheless, with modern-day Arctic vessels such as icebreakers and the thawing of polar ice, a “Northwest Passage” may finally be in reach. 

A potential arctic shipping route has appeared attractive for centuries due to its potential to cut shipping costs and travel time by nearly half, or 6,200 miles – roughly the length of the entire Pacific Ocean when measured from Los Angeles to Beijing. Additionally, ships taking this polar express would avoid the conflict-prone Red Sea, where recent Houthi missile attacks on maritime cargo ships have required the armed intervention of the American navy to protect commerce. 

Due to increasing temperatures and the unequal distribution of heat on the Earth’s surface, the poles heat up four times faster on average than the rest of the Earth for an average of 12.8% sea ice decline per decade. However, this does not necessarily mean the Arctic is completely ice-free. Instead, man-made climate change has created brief seasonal windows when the ice retreats just enough to make Arctic maritime shipping viable. Still, in an interview with CNN, the polar geopolitics expert Elizabeth Buchanan remarked, “A new global economic corridor is about to come online… This is a game changer.” 

Additionally, the Arctic Circle is estimated to contain 30% of Earth’s undiscovered natural gas and 13% of its undiscovered oil reserves, potentially making any nation that could control or exert influence over the region very powerful. Consequently, Canada, Denmark, and Russia have all recently invoked an obscure clause in the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea to extend their economic claims to the Arctic.

The United States, however, may find it difficult to justify similar economic activity in the Arctic as the United States has yet to sign the aforementioned United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, therefore making any claims outside its 200 mile exclusive economic zone illegitimate in the eyes of international law. Alaskan politicians have since lobbied the federal government to become a signatory, but progress is unlikely to be made due to long-held American fears of loss of sovereignty to the United Nations. Interestingly, if the United States were a signatory to the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, not only would it be able to extend its Alaskan Arctic claims by almost 160,000 square miles, it would also potentially be able to stack the scientific panels judging international oceanic claims with American experts. 

Given the highly lucrative potential of the Arctic, the power of influencing territorial arbitration would be especially important due to the many overlapping claims that cover the Arctic. For example, the Lomonosov Ridge, an underwater mountain range stretching 1,100 miles in the extreme North Pole, is claimed by both Russia and Canada. The importance of the Lomonosov Ridge led Russia in 2007 to plant a Russian flag on the seabed around the Lomonosov Ridge using a robotic arm attached to a submarine. It is perhaps also no coincidence that the parts of the Arctic closest to Russia have been described as having “mind-boggling” amounts of oil and natural gas. 

Whereas the interests of countries like China are purely economic in nature, the Arctic has also been militarily important to polar nations like Russia, Canada, and the United States for several decades. For example, during the Cold War, Canada and the United States’ early-warning missile-detection systems were based in the Arctic. Likewise, the Center for Strategic and International Studies has described the purpose of Russia’s Arctic military presence as being to “1. Enhance homeland defense, specifically a forward line of defense against foreign incursion as the Arctic attracts increased international investment; 2. Secure Russia’s economic future; and 3. Create a staging ground to project power, primarily in the North Atlantic.” Predicitably, Russia also has the world’s largest icebreaker fleet, numbering at 50, with some icebreakers nuclear-powered and armed. Comparatively, the United States has two, both of which are decades old. 

In fact, in terms of active economic, legal, and military activity in the North Pole, Russia is the world’s foremost Arctic power. According to U.S. officials, if NATO were to regain the Arctic advantage, it would require the construction of 70 to 90 icebreakers. During the 2024 NATO summit, the United States, Canada, and Finland announced the Icebreaker Collaboration Effort (ICE) to begin negotiations regarding a joint effort to construct new icebreakers. This joint nature of this agreement is notable as the United States is expected to require consistent, deliberate investment spanning decades to bring its shipyards up to global par in icebreaker construction – a problem emblematic of the larger decline of American shipyards as a whole. Inevitably, the United States is relying on polar allies such as Finland to build icebreakers for it, as in the $6.1 billion Finno-American deal announced in October of 2025, under which Finland will build four icebreakers for the United States Coast Guard and assist America in constructing seven additional icebreakers. The first icebreaker is expected to be delivered in 2028. 

Although the Arctic has the potential to be the next frontier of geopolitics, environmentalists warn of the possibility of catastrophic destruction there. Counterintuitively, melting sea ice in the Arctic actually makes transiting to the North Pole more perilous in some respects, as the thawed ice now floats freely and unpredictably rather than being previously locked into unmoving ice sheets. This has the potential to damage oil tankers transiting through the Arctic and cause oil spills. Whereas oil spills in other oceans, such as the Gulf of Mexico, can be relatively manageable to clean up due to their proximity to highly developed and prepared nations like the United States, Arctic oil spills have the potential to be uniquely destructive to the environment, as the desolate and isolated nature of the Arctic Ocean makes cleanup exceptionally difficult. Not only would specialized vessels such as icebreakers be necessary, but the frigid Arctic temperatures might also require specialized cleanup equipment and specially trained crews. Not only would oil stay in the relatively pristine Arctic waters for longer than in other oceans, but the dark, black color of spilled oil would also absorb sunlight, heating the Arctic even further. 

As the climate warms and more Arctic sea ice melts, more human activity accelerating climate change is expected to take place in the Arctic in a positive feedback loop akin to a vicious, environmental death spiral. Consequently, this will further warm the climate, leading to additional climate-change-contributing Arctic activity. This will, of course, lead to even more climate change. 

Instead, it would do the world well to look south for guidance. The 1959 Antarctic Treaty established the South Pole as a demilitarized, environmentally-protected, scientific no-man’s-land, which it has remained to this day. Consequently, Antarctica has stayed relatively untouched. Not only would a scramble for the Arctic spell disaster for the environment, it would also inflame the growing great power competition between the United States and Russia. The Arctic is at a crossroads, and it could either become an additional theater in geopolitical struggle, or a testament to international cooperation and the pursuit of science over extraction. A treaty akin to the 1959 Antarctic Treaty should be enacted that would protect the Arctic, and put posterity before profit.

Featured/Headline Image Caption and Citation: Arctic, Image sourced from RawPixel | CC License, no changes made

In late-May of 2013, Ida Angotigirk, a member of the Salluit community in Northern Quebec, disappeared. After nearly a month of Angotirgirk being missing, it was finally reported to the Kativik Regional Police Force, who immediately suspected foul play in her disappearance. In the same year, another Indigenous woman named Bernice Rich was killed in Sheshatshiu, a reserve in Newfoundland and Labrador, by a man who had a history of violent offenses. Her death is remembered years later in the community alongside the numerous other Indigenous women and girls that have gone missing or been killed over the years. 

These stories are far too common in Canada–those that make the news, at least. Indigenous peoples in Canada, despite only making up around 5% of the population, represent a disproportionate fraction of missing people in Canada, specifically women. In 2014, Indigenous women were six times more likely to be homicide victims than non-Indigenous women. Indigenous women also make up 50% of human trafficking cases in Canada. Victims such as Bernice Rich, Ida Angotigirk, and others who make these headlines, seldom receive justice, and their cases are not treated with the necessary level of urgency. Cases frequently go unpublicized, with many of these women never being found or even reported as missing. Canada needs to implement measures, such as a specific national database to fairly report these cases, rather than continuing to treat the issue as second-class or continue their slow, non-prioritized implementation of these ideas. Without serious and swift action, the crisis that affects Indigenous women in Canada will persist with little consequences and scare consideration from the public. 

The Highway of Tears

Crimes committed against these women are not concentrated in specific areas of the country. Cases of human trafficking of Indigenous women span across the major regions in Canada: British Columbia, Ontario, Alberta, and more. However, a section of the Yellowhead Highway 16, which runs from Winnipeg to the coast of British Columbia, has been notoriously dubbed the “Highway of Tears” due to its “national crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls.” Although many Indigenous women have been found, or taken off of, this route, the national crises affects urban and rural areas alike. 

A 2025 report on human trafficking in Canada found that in the last 14 years, after identifying 185 cases of missing or murdered Indigenous women, 67% of those cases still resulted in the victim’s status being missing. To this date, many of the cases that have been suspected to originate from the Highway of Tears are still unsolved. Women have come to fear the region, with interviews from Human Rights Watch stating that their researchers were “struck by the fear expressed by women they interviewed.” Despite Canada having both a national and regional police force to work on these cases, these institutions have seemingly failed these communities, both in bringing justice to the victims, but also in ensuring that their constituents feel safe to express their concerns. 

Critiques: Colonialism and Socioeconomic Disparities in Canada

Many hypothesize that the largest contributor to these inequalities is Canada’s legacy of colonialism. The Indian Act, which was passed in 1876, established reserved lands and aimed to assimilate the Indigenous people of Canada during the British Colonial Rule. It rigidly structured the Indigenous population, both by forbidding them to leave their reservations and creating strict power dynamics for Indigenous women. For example, if an Indigenous woman married a non-Indigenous man, it would result in them giving up their Indigenous status. Additionally, even if an Indigenous woman married another Indigenous man, the man would be allowed to surrender her status as an Indigenous woman for Canadian citizenship and land. All land and property thus belonged to the men of these reservations, and women had few rights outside of what their husband permitted. Indigenous women were also socially, though reinforced by the Indian Act, to remain “pure and chaste,” with any deviation from this norm resulting in being deemed unworthy of respect. Sexual shaming thus became a frequent issue in these communities, leading to those who experienced sexual violence less likely to come forward with their stories to not seem “impure.”

Socioeconomic disparities also contribute to the lack of reporting and increased targeting of Indigenous women. For example, 18% of Indigenous peoples live in core housing, while only 10% of non-Indigenous households do. Additionally, studies published by the National Library of Medicine have reported that medical institutions in Canada frequently overlook the needs of Indigenous women. Many of these institutions are rooted in discriminatory practices, which decreases the desire for these women to share their experiences. With limited access to safe housing, and a deep mistrust of health resources, Indigenous women are more vulnerable to sexual crimes, with nearly 44% of Indigenous women reporting physical or sexual abuse, which is nearly double the percentage of non-Indigenous women (25%). The continued effects of socioeconomic disparities, which also stem from the issue of colonialism, make it difficult for Indigenous women to protect themselves against the persistent dangers of human trafficking and death.  

In the context of Canada’s complex history with colonialism, and the few efforts to deconstruct the structures that this Act created, it is no surprise that Indigenous women have continued to be victims of crime. While the Canadian government has attempted to interfere less with these Indigenous populations, it also means they no longer adequately protect these groups. The marginalization of Indigenous women, even by their own communities, can lead to crimes of sexual violence, trafficking, and kidnapping to be overlooked. Rather than protect the victims of these crimes, it’s easier to forget about them and shame them for the promiscuous nature of their disappearances. These fundamental social and historical influences have affected present-day Canadian society, with the government and police forces overlooking Indigenous women as victims that deserve fair justice and equal importance. 

The Role of Police and Government

Institutions, such as the Canadian government and their police authorities, have failed the Indigenous populations. From underreporting, to a lack of urgency in fixing these systemic issues, there are various barriers for these Indigenous women to obtain justice in a system that works against them.

The police systems and news sources actively play a role in the continuation of these disproportionate abuses against Indigenous women with their lack of transparency and underreporting of victims. Government officials have hypothesized that the “actual number” of Indigenous women that are victims of disappearing or murder is “far higher.” Studies also find that in the court system itself, “‘language and translation difficulties, inadequate and insensitive defence representation, pressures to plead guilty and racist stereotypes” all are disadvantages that Indigenous people face in the justice system. The issue is not just that Indigenous women are less likely to receive media attention, but that when they do, justice is seldom served in the courts. 

Solutions: Fair Reporting, Urgency, and Transparency

This article is not the first to urge Canada to re-evaluate its approaches to these crimes. Numerous organizations have called upon the government to actively change its procedures and protect the lives of Indigenous people. One organization, now called Red Dress Stories, created a website archive to honor the lives and stories of Indigenous women who have gone missing or murdered. Additionally, the Native Women’s Association of Canada has started numerous initiatives to reduce violence against Indigenous women. Despite these efforts, however, the government has yet to make active efforts to change their policies regarding these issues. 

This article contends that Canada needs to address the fundamental issues in their processes by implementing the following: first, a national public database that promotes transparency and accountability for the police force, and second, a system to enforce news sources to accurately and fairly report missing or murdered Indigenous women.

A national public database would force cases to remain open until solved within a reasonable time, as well as generate awareness on which women are missing or victims of trafficking or murder. It would also allow families of these victims to provide information on their loved ones and be updated on the progress of their cases being solved. Additionally, enforcing news sources to fairly report these cases can include police sending records to these sources for publishing, continued public support for accurate news, and continued accountability by continuously collecting data on the proportion of Indigenous vs. non-Indigenous victims reported on.

These proposed measures target some of the key weaknesses of the current system and seek to strengthen it through transparency, urgency, and accountability. Despite efforts from various groups and years of discussion, reform has been continuously stalled by a lack of urgency. Awareness and continued pressure from civil societies, organizations, and the public are critical to gaining the needed support from the government to implement these suggestions and draw attention to the situation. By making data on these women more transparent and holding their abusers accountable, women like Angotigirk and Rich can finally have a fair chance at seeking justice through a system that has repeatedly let them down.

Featured/Headline Image Caption and Citation: Vigil for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls (MMIWG), Image sourced from Flickr | CC License, no changes made

For five days in late July 2025, the world witnessed violence erupt once again on the Thailand-Cambodia border, one of the most prominent flashpoints in Southeast Asia. This time, it wasn’t merely the intensity of the violence that made the situation different, but rather the sudden and dramatic diplomatic engagement of U.S. President Donald Trump, who guided the two nations to a ceasefire and returned to the world as the essential broker for Indo-Pacific peace.

Trump wasted no time identifying himself as victorious and touted himself as “the president of peace.” His prompt actions were more than crisis management for an emerging situation in a volatile region; they were clearly directed at improving his own reputation and candidacy for the Nobel Peace Prize.

Trump’s Strategic Diplomacy

Trump’s engagement came at a time of rising nationalism sentiment, with the two parties blaming each other for attacks against civilians and ancient temples. The crisis was in danger of spiraling out of control with over 38 killed and 300,000 civilians displaced. Trump’s move was both forceful and transactional: he put a hold on every trade deal with the region and threatened new tariffs unless the conflict stopped. By making a series of phone calls behind the scenes to international leaders, in addition to public declarations, he evolved a regional stalemate to a test of statesmanship on an international scale.

His pressure was rewarded. High-level discussions in Kuala Lumpur—facilitated by Malaysia in its capacity as ASEAN chair but endorsed by both Washington and Beijing—resulted in a ceasefire at midnight on July 28, 2025. Both Thai and Cambodian leaders, having seen the carrot of resumed trade and the stick of diplomatic ostracism, did recognize Trump’s “decisive mediation” and credited him for restoring peace.

A Global Campaign for Recognition

But the Southeast Asia ceasefire was neither the only nor even the primary goal for Trump. And, in the weeks prior to the crisis, he had already been passionately pursuing international kudos for other conflicts he had settled, including ceasefires between India and Pakistan, and Israel and Iran. Trump has long sought Nobel acknowledgement, famously whining that, no matter the peace he creates, he receives “no credit.”

This time, however, it was governments themselves who were falling all over each other to respond to his call. Pakistan formally nominated Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize, highlighting his “decisive diplomatic intervention” both in their standoff with India and, now, in Southeast Asia. Pakistani spokespeople described him as “a genuine peacemaker,” and insisted that his mediation prevented a nuclear escalation in South Asia. Israel quickly followed suit, and Prime Minister Netanyahu submitted Trump’s name for consideration, complimenting Trump on his “unwavering commitment” to peace in multiple hot spots around the world—including the Middle East and Southeast Asia. Other nations and commentators have also commented that Trump is not just a mediator; he’s a leader trying to change America’s image around the globe to an image of being a power of dialogue instead of a power of domination. 

Beyond the ceasefire: ambition and legacy

There are, of course, naysayers who feel that Trump’s peace deals’ continuous success is tenuous at best and that he makes crises for his own benefit, both to play a key role in the ceasefire later and to sponsor Lockheed Martin and Boeing weapons industry. But in the case of the Thailand–Cambodia ceasefire, a deadly border clash has stopped for now, and an important trade route remains open.

Trump’s intent is clear: he wants to be remembered—and recognized—as a maker of peace, not a maker of war.  By being involved in multiple, high-profile conflicts, taking center diplomatic stage, and securing backing from international allies such as Pakistan, Israel, and several others, he has thrust himself into the discussion of speculation of Nobel Peace Prize winners. It is still widely debated whether this is statesmanship or self-promotion, or a bit of both. But right now the former president is closer than ever to the ultimate title he covets: not only “president of peace” but maybe, at last, Nobel laureate.

Featured/Headline Image Caption and Citation: Trump Speech, Image sourced from The Flat Hat | CC License, no changes made

Introduction

The concept of smart power, first articulated by Joseph Nye in the early 2000s, has become a foundational framework for understanding how states navigate an increasingly complex global system. While traditional models of power focus either on coercive (military) or persuasive (soft power) mechanisms, smart power integrates both, combining military, economic, cultural, and diplomatic tools in a flexible, strategic approach to achieve state objectives. As the global order shifts toward multipolarity, the role of smart power becomes more critical. In a world shaped by hybrid threats, cyber warfare, and rapid technological advances, the ability to wield smart power is not just essential for global leadership but also for national resilience. 

This article explores the theoretical foundations of smart power, with a particular focus on the United States as the most successful example of its application. It critically assesses the U.S. approach and compares it with the strategies of other key global players, offering a comprehensive analysis of the strengths and limitations of each approach.

Theoretical Framework: Ingredients of Smart Power in International Relations

Smart power blends the foundational ideas of realism, liberalism, and constructivism. Realists argue that coercive power—particularly military and economic strength—remains crucial for influence. Liberal institutionalists assert that states must build international cooperation through norms, laws, and institutional frameworks. Constructivists highlight the role of identity, legitimacy, and perceptions in shaping global interactions. Smart power synthesizes these theories, combining hard elements of coercion with soft tools of diplomacy, cultural influence, and multilateral cooperation, aiming to secure legitimacy for state actions.¹

The key ingredients of smart power include material power, diplomatic finesse, cultural diplomacy, narrative control, hybrid agility, and technological prowess. Together, these elements form a state’s ability to wield influence effectively and flexibly, engaging with both coercion and persuasion while adapting to the changing dynamics of international relations.

Smart Power in Practice: The United States

The United States has long exemplified the effective use of smart power, a strategic approach that integrates both hard power (military and economic coercion) and soft power (diplomatic, cultural, and normative influence) to pursue national interests. This model, as articulated by Joseph Nye, has been essential for the U.S. in navigating an increasingly multipolar world. The U.S. has leveraged its vast military capabilities, economic dominance, and cultural influence to shape the global order, but the efficacy of its smart power strategy has been contingent upon its ability to blend coercive force with the promotion of democratic values and multilateral cooperation.

Historically, the United States’ smart power strategy has hinged on a combination of hard and soft elements. The Marshall Plan of 1948, which provided economic aid to post-war Europe, is one of the most iconic examples of U.S. smart power in action.² By combining economic assistance with the promotion of democratic governance, the U.S. successfully shaped the post-war order and bolstered its influence over Western Europe.³ Similarly, during the Cold War, the U.S. demonstrated a masterful use of both military deterrence and diplomatic engagement, particularly in resolving the Cuban Missile Crisis through a delicate balance of threats and negotiations.⁴ These instances underscore the potential of smart power to integrate hard and soft elements in pursuit of long-term strategic objectives.

In recent decades, the U.S. has continued to adapt its smart power strategy to confront new geopolitical challenges. One of the most notable contemporary examples is the Pivot to Asia, which aimed to counter China’s rising influence in the Asia-Pacific region. This strategy combined increased diplomatic engagement with regional allies, economic partnerships through initiatives like the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP), and military reinforcement through strategic alliances with countries such as Japan and South Korea.⁵ The Pivot to Asia highlighted the U.S.’s ability to use both soft power, through trade agreements and diplomatic outreach, and hard power, through military presence and security partnerships, to assert its influence in a changing global landscape.

Moreover, the United States’ cultural diplomacy has been a central pillar of its soft power. Institutions such as Hollywood, Silicon Valley, and prestigious universities have long been vehicles for projecting American values of freedom, innovation, and democracy worldwide. These institutions not only shape global perceptions of the U.S. but also provide a platform for fostering global networks of influence. A particularly significant example of U.S. soft power is the PEPFAR (President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief) initiative, which was launched in 2003. PEPFAR is one of the largest global health initiatives aimed at combating HIV/AIDS and has provided lifesaving treatment to millions of people, particularly in sub-Saharan Africa. This initiative, blending humanitarian aid with diplomatic engagement, exemplifies the U.S. use of smart power to promote health, human rights, and global security, reinforcing its image as a leader in global health.

However, the U.S. has not been immune to criticisms of inconsistency and hypocrisy in its application of smart power, particularly when military interventions and economic sanctions have contradicted the values it promotes. The War on Terror, for instance, raised questions about the ethical limits of U.S. power, as its actions in Iraq and Afghanistan were seen by many as undermining its moral authority.⁶ Such contradictions reveal that the success of smart power is contingent upon maintaining a balance between coercion and legitimacy.

The rise of new technologies, such as cybersecurity and artificial intelligence (AI), has further transformed the U.S.’s approach to smart power. In the digital age, the U.S. has embraced the strategic use of information warfare, technological innovation, and digital diplomacy to assert its global influence. As a leader in both the development and regulation of emerging technologies, the U.S. has sought to shape the global rules of the digital economy, from data privacy laws to cybersecurity norms.⁷ This demonstrates the increasing importance of technological diplomacy as an extension of soft power, enabling the U.S. to project influence in the digital realm without resorting to traditional military force.

However, the deployment of smart power remains fraught with challenges. One significant concern is the legitimacy gap, where the use of coercion, such as economic sanctions or military interventions, undermines the credibility of U.S. values. For example, U.S. actions in the Middle East, framed as efforts to promote democracy, have often led to instability and human rights abuses, creating a disconnect between its professed values and its actions on the ground.⁸ Additionally, the rise of China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), which offers economic investments without the political conditionalities typically associated with Western aid, presents a challenge to the U.S.’s ability to use economic power as a tool of smart power.⁹ As China’s influence expands, the U.S. may need to recalibrate its smart power strategy to maintain its competitive edge in the face of alternative models of statecraft. 

The United States’ use of smart power remains one of the most sophisticated and adaptable strategies in international relations. By blending hard and soft power, the U.S. has managed to assert its global leadership while also responding to emerging threats and challenges. Yet, as the global order continues to evolve and new powers like China gain influence, the U.S. will need to refine its approach to smart power, ensuring that it remains a credible and ethical leader in a multipolar world. The future of smart power will depend on the U.S.’s ability to navigate the complexities of global diplomacy while maintaining the legitimacy and moral authority that have been central to its influence in the 21st century.

Comparative Analysis: Smart Power Beyond the U.S.

While the U.S. represents a case of comprehensive smart power deployment, other global players employ this strategy in different ways, shaped by their unique geopolitical positions and priorities.

China: China’s smart power strategy relies heavily on geoeconomic tactics. The Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), which seeks to build infrastructure and create economic linkages across Asia, Africa, and Europe, is a prime example of China’s use of economic influence to extend its power.¹⁰ The establishment of Confucius Institutes worldwide, aimed at promoting Chinese language and culture, further demonstrates the importance of soft power. However, China’s use of coercion in regional disputes—particularly in the South China Sea—and its “wolf warrior diplomacy” have often undermined its soft power, demonstrating the risks of overemphasizing hard power in a global context.^{11 12}

European Union: The EU exemplifies a form of soft power through its regulatory influence, particularly in areas such as data protection and environmental policies. The EU has been successful in shaping global standards, promoting human rights, and pushing for environmental sustainability.¹³ However, its lack of a unified military force and dependence on NATO for security reduce its strategic autonomy, limiting the EU’s ability to deploy smart power in a more balanced way.¹⁴ The EU’s role in managing the migration crisis and its regulatory leadership in technology—such as General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR)—have demonstrated the EU’s capacity to influence the global agenda.¹⁵

Japan: As a middle power, Japan has embraced technological diplomacy and soft power to increase its global influence. Innovations in robotics, green technology, and its leadership in multilateral diplomacy, particularly within the United Nations and World Trade Organization (WTO), elevate its global standing.¹⁶ However, Japan’s pacifist constitution and reliance on U.S. security agreements restrict its ability to project power independently, thus limiting its overall smart power strategy.¹⁷

South Korea: South Korea’s smart power strategy combines cultural diplomacy, particularly through the global popularity of K-pop, with robust digital diplomacy. Yet, South Korea’s reliance on the U.S. for security and its ongoing geopolitical tensions with North Korea restrict its flexibility, making its approach to smart power more reactive than proactive.¹⁸

Conclusion: The Future of Smart Power in a Multipolar World

As multipolarity increases and emerging powers such as China, Russia, and regional players gain influence, the importance of smart power will only grow. While the U.S. must evolve its strategy to maintain its leadership position, smaller states can use smart power to level the playing field and assert their influence in global affairs. The ability to combine hard and soft power—rooted in legitimacy and innovation—will determine success in contemporary statecraft.

1.  Nye, Joseph S. The Future of Power. PublicAffairs, 2011. ↩︎
2.  Nye, Joseph S. “Smart Power: The U.S. Experience.” Harvard University Press, 2015. ↩︎
3.  Nye, Joseph S. Soft Power: The Means to Success in World Politics. PublicAffairs, 2004. ↩︎
4.  Kennedy, Robert F. “The Cuban Missile Crisis: A Memoir.” The New York Times, 1962. ↩︎
5. U.S. Department of State. “Pivot to Asia: U.S. Foreign Policy in the Asia-Pacific Region.” 2011. ↩︎
6. Chomsky, Noam. “Hegemony or Survival: America’s Quest for Global Dominance.” Metropolitan Books, 2003 ↩︎
7. Friedman, Thomas. “Thank You for Being Late: An Optimist’s Guide to Thriving in the Age of Accelerations.” Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2017. ↩︎
8. Mearsheimer, John J., and Walt, Stephen M. “The Israel Lobby and U.S. Foreign Policy.” Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2007. ↩︎
9. Belt & Road Initiative. “A New Silk Road: The Economic Power of China.” 2013. ↩︎
10. Ibid. ↩︎
11. Li, Xiaoyang. “Confucius Institutes: A Tool of China’s Soft Power.” Journal of Chinese Political Science, 2017. ↩︎
12. Callahan, David. “The China Model: Political Meritocracy and the Limits of Democracy.” Oxford University Press, 2020. ↩︎
13. Smith, Karen. “The European Union and the World: The External Relations of the European Union.” Oxford University Press, 2011. ↩︎
14. Keukeleire, Stephan, and Delreux, Tom. “The EU’s Foreign Policy: A Political Economy Approach.” Palgrave Macmillan, 2014. ↩︎
15. European Commission. “General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR): Impact and Regulations.” 2018. ↩︎
16. Shinoda, Tetsuro. “Japan’s Foreign Policy and Its Global Influence.” Japan Review of Political Science, 2016. ↩︎
17. Funabashi, Yoichi. “The Pacific Alliance and Japan’s Foreign Policy.” Asian Survey, 2015. ↩︎
18. Sung, Yoonhyuk. “South Korea’s Digital Diplomacy and the Role of K-Pop.” Journal of Korean Studies, 2020. ↩︎

Featured/Headline Image Caption and Citation: U.S. Power, Image sourced from European Council on Foreign Relations | CC License, no changes made

When the United States loses sight of its foreign policy goals, decisions that affect millions of people often devolve into emblematic gestures and political theater. With regards to Cuba, the U.S. has always sought to stand with its people while opposing their authoritarian oppressors. For over six decades, different administrations’ approaches have swung like a pendulum, switching between inflexible isolation and abrupt engagement, to no end. This cycle has left the Cuban people behind. It’s time the U.S. acts on its unique leverage and reaffirms its commitment to a free and democratic Cuba. 

Raúl Castro stepping down as Cuba’s President in 2018 and First Secretary of the Communist Party in 2021 marked an end to the decades-long Castro era. Many hoped this vacuum might spark a wave of political and economic reform that would finally end totalitarian rule. Glimpses of hope came with the drafting of Cuba’s 2019 constitution that included reforms such as the recognition of private property and imposition of presidential term limits. 

It soon became clear, however, that the Castros’ handpicked successor, Miguel Díaz-Canel, would not bring an end to the Cuban people’s plight. The regime’s totalitarian grip has been emboldened via brutal crackdowns on dissent and free expression. Failed economic reform and the mishandling of the COVID-19 pandemic led to large-scale protests in July of 2021, which were met with the arbitrary detainment and horrific treatment of thousands of political prisoners, in addition to the harassment and persecution of journalists and activists. 

This isn’t anything new. Since Fidel Castro’s ascent in 1959, the Cuban government has ruled with an iron fist—imprisoning opponents, confiscating private property, suppressing free expression, and engaging in mass surveillance. In response to the seizure of American assets, alignment with the Soviet Union in the Cold War-era, and blatant human rights abuses, the United States imposed a trade embargo on Cuba beginning in 1960. The goal was clear: to pressure the regime to reform or, more optimistically, collapse. 

That was over six decades ago. 

The most serious criticisms of the embargo—outside of being a clear geopolitical failure—are its implications for human development. The embargo has isolated Cuba from the global market and stunted its economic growth. Yes, it ensured American capital hasn’t been used to embolden the Communist regime, but it undeniably left the economy stagnant and dragged the Cuban people down with it. 

Nowadays, and arguably more importantly of interest, the embargo has become political fuel for the Communist Party of Cuba (PCC): giving the regime an excuse for its own failures and oppressive behavior. Leaders use the embargo as a scapegoat for shortages and persistent poverty, all while rallying against it to boost nationalist fervor. 

The Trump Administration, spearheaded by Secretary of State Marco Rubio—the son of Cuban exiles—remains set on enforcing America’s hardline approach to Cuba. This strategy runs contrary to the pro-engagement efforts of the Biden and Obama eras. The U.S. has doubled down on sanctions on the Cuban regime and even reinstated Cuba’s designation as a state sponsor of terrorism. 

Taking a stand against the oppressive regime and standing with the country’s freedom fighters is admirable. The United States, leading with moral clarity, must take a stand to support a free Cuba. Simply lifting the embargo would send a message that would reward and reinforce the Cuban regime and similar authoritarian governments’ behavior; it’s nothing more than full-on capitulation. Furthermore, it would be a missed opportunity for the U.S. to give up the greatest piece of leverage it has over Cuba without guaranteeing any concessions. Yet, Cuba remains in desperate need of economic reform; blackouts plague the nation and the government, in the past few years, has even had to make pleas for American aid. 

It’s time for American policymakers to adopt a smarter, more dynamic strategy where leverage actually means change. The prospect of lifting the embargo and providing relief needs to be tied to guarantees of reform in Cuba. The 1996 Helms-Burton Act provides a framework for this proposal. It states that the embargo can only be lifted once Cuba legalizes all political activity, frees all political prisoners, ensures the protection of private property, and permits international observers to monitor elections and human rights protections, among other stipulations. 

To that end, the United States ought to approach both the Republic of Cuba and the international community with a proposal of conditional engagement. The agreement would combine an incremental easing of restrictions in exchange for steps toward democratization, market liberalization, and the institutionalization of the rule of law. Reforms must include: the release of all political prisoners; protections for free speech, a free press, an open civil society, and an unrestricted internet; the legalization of political parties that oppose the PCC; the scheduling of open elections under international scrutiny; guarantees of judicial independence; the implementation of anti-corruption measures within the government; and greater protections for private property. 

If Cuba meets these requirements, as verified by international observers from groups like the UN or Organization of American States (OAS), the U.S. would begin the easing of sanctions and restrictions: authorizing remittances, allowing tourism, diplomatic normalization, and permitting American economic activity with the Cuban private sector.

This approach ensures the pressure stays where it belongs: on the Cuban government. The embargo and its restrictions on Cuba’s access to the American market remain the U.S.’ greatest source of leverage over the island. Calls for an end to the embargo from Cuba and the UN can finally be answered. Any excuse for the PCC’s failures in governance would be gone. In offering a strategic bargain, Washington forces the Cuban regime’s hand. If they accept, it’s a victory for its people. If they refuse, the regime shows its populace and the world their true colors—it would rather maintain power than pursue progress, deepening dissent and internal pressure. 

So long as the Cuban regime embraces its people’s desires, the embargo will finally begin to be lifted. Power will return to the hands of the Cuban people. Polling data shows that Cubans overwhelmingly support greater private ownership, believe there is a necessary, growing dissent against the government, and hope to see regime change in the country. Rejecting appeasement and blind isolation while leveraging American influence ensures the U.S. actually stands with those it has claimed to defend for decades and offers a pathway to the future they demand. 

Ultimately, it’s time that purpose returns to prescribing the U.S.’ foreign policy. The Trump Administration has clearly laid out its posture of “promoting a stable, prosperous, and free Cuba” via a firm policy stance to hold the Cuban regime accountable. However, to truly advance that goal, symbolic toughness and blanket restrictions won’t be enough. America’s embargo on Cuba must no longer be the all-or-nothing litmus test of American politicians’ anti-Communist convictions. Rather, it should be tied to meaningful reforms that empower the Cuban people. 

The framework of America’s strategy towards Cuba should not be to simply punish the government for punishment’s sake. Rather, it’s time to create a transparent roadmap that provides hope to a distressed people while leaving their captors with little room to stall or spin. The pendulum must no longer swing. Via conditional engagement, the U.S. shifts its focus solely to the progress of Cuba’s people—creating a more stable and prosperous Latin America.

History supports this idea. In the late 1980s, under Mikhail Gorbachev, the Soviet Union undertook perestroika (a policy of economic liberalization), glasnost (increasing political freedoms such as speech and the press), and electoral reforms including the country’s first semi-competitive election. Together, these reforms allowed for an open civil society that enabled the discourse and dissent that brought about the collapse of the Soviet regime. It’s a very real possibility Cuba goes down the same path under this proposal.

The Cuban people demand change. It’s time to set the stage for a future of prosperity.

America has the opportunity to use its unique and strategic leverage to stand with the people of Cuba. A freer and more just society can be built in the Pearl of the Antilles… it might just take a little bit of outside-the-box diplomacy.

Featured/Headline Image Caption and Citation: Ukrainian Flag, Image sourced from Wikimedia Commons | CC License, no changes made

This summer, the United States made history. On July 18, Congress signed into law the GENIUS Act, the first major crypto legislation in the nation. What makes this moment remarkable is how quickly the nation’s sentiment on cryptocurrencies has shifted, especially within government. In 2013, former Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan expressed deep skepticism about Bitcoin, saying, “You really have to stretch your imagination to infer what the intrinsic value of Bitcoin is.” Today, by contrast, the sitting U.S. president is promising to make the United States the “crypto capital of the planet.”

This shift is not only visible in the United States. In 2024, the European Union implemented the Markets in Crypto-Assets (MiCA) framework, establishing rules for stablecoins, disclosures, and market practices across all member countries. These new legislative efforts represent a legitimization of cryptocurrencies in major economies around the world. Cryptocurrencies are no longer fringe, they are being integrated into the legal and financial infrastructure of the world’s largest economies.

But years before these efforts to regulate and integrate crypto, El Salvador made a far more radical move. In 2021, it became the first country in the world to adopt Bitcoin as legal tender. By 2024, however, this experiment was significantly scaled back through a $1.4 billion loan agreement with the International Monetary Fund (IMF), which included provisions that revoked Bitcoin’s official status for tax payments and made its use by businesses voluntary. As crypto becomes a serious policy issue for major nations, what lessons can be drawn from El Salvador’s high-risk, low-readiness experiment?

The Lead Up 

El Salvador’s young and bold president, Nayib Bukele, saw Bitcoin as a tool to modernize the economy and expand financial access. At the time, over 70 percent of Salvadorans lacked access to traditional banking services. Bitcoin was pitched as a solution to this gap, offering digital wallets and financial tools to those excluded from the banking system.

Another motivation was to lower remittance costs. In 2021, approximately 22 percent of El Salvador’s GDP came from remittances, largely sent from the United States. Bitcoin was seen as a way to reduce transfer fees, speed up transactions, and keep more money in the hands of recipients.

Beyond solving existing problems, Bukele envisioned building a tech-forward economy. He announced plans for Bitcoin City, a futuristic, tax-free city powered by geothermal energy from the Conchagua volcano. The city would attract foreign investment, support crypto startups, and issue “volcano bonds” to finance its development. 

What Went Wrong? 

The law was relatively easy to pass. Bukele’s party and its allies held a supermajority in the Legislative Assembly. The legislation was sweeping: all economic agents, unless lacking the necessary technology, were required to accept Bitcoin. Taxes could be paid in Bitcoin, and government subsidies were distributed in the cryptocurrency.

To support its rollout, the government introduced Chivo, a digital wallet app designed to make Bitcoin transactions accessible for everyday use. As an incentive, citizens who downloaded the app received $30 worth of Bitcoin. The government also installed hundreds of Bitcoin ATMs nationwide to make conversion into U.S. dollars easier. 

El Salvador experienced some early wins. In the first few months, crypto-based remittances rose, making up 4.5 percent of all inflows. However, this momentum did not last. By December 2024, cryptocurrency-linked remittances had declined to just 0.87 percent. Adoption of the Chivo wallet followed a similar trend. According to Bukele, three million people downloaded the app, roughly 46 percent of the population. But usage dropped significantly once the $30 bonus was spent. Fewer than 20 percent of users remained active. The average user made no Bitcoin transactions per month and only one U.S. dollar payment on average. 

Among those who chose not to download Chivo, the most common reasons were a preference for cash and a lack of trust in the system. Many users expressed concern over privacy and surveillance, saying Bitcoin transactions could be tracked, unlike cash. Others reported technical problems or feared volatility. 

These concerns were visible even before implementation. A poll conducted by Universidad Centroamericana José Simeón Cañas found that nearly 68 percent of Salvadorans opposed adopting Bitcoin as legal tender. Eight in ten said they did not trust the digital currency, and nine in ten said they did not fully understand it. This distrust was compounded by basic access issues: according to the World Bank, only 62 percent of Salvadorans were using the internet in 2021. The country’s rollout strategy did little to engage the public or prepare them for such a major shift. 

The IMF Deal and Rollback 

In 2024, the Salvadoran government secured a $1.4 billion loan agreement with the IMF, which came with significant policy conditions. These included changes to the Bitcoin Law: Bitcoin could no longer be used to pay taxes, and businesses were no longer required to accept it. These rollbacks marked a shift from mandatory, aggressive implementation to more voluntary and symbolic adoption. 

Still, the government has not entirely abandoned its crypto ambitions. President Bukele announced an $83 million profit from the country’s Bitcoin holdings, bolstered by market appreciation. Although the government has announced the sale of Chivo, Bitcoin ATMs remain in place, and the vision for Bitcoin City has not been officially abandoned.

What Can be Learned? 

El Salvador’s Bitcoin experiment underscores the challenges of adopting digital currencies without adequate public readiness, infrastructure, or trust. While the motivations behind the move, financial inclusion, remittance reform, and economic innovation, were valid and even admirable, the implementation was rapid and imposed from the top down. The disconnect between policy and public sentiment ultimately limited its impact. 

The United States and other major economies should take note. A 2023 Pew Research study found that 63 percent of Americans have “little to no confidence that current ways to invest in, trade, or use cryptocurrencies are reliable and safe,” and only 17 percent of adults report ever having used them. These figures suggest that public trust and understanding remain major hurdles, even in highly developed economies. 

If the United States truly aims to become the “crypto capital of the planet,” legislation alone will not be enough. Policymakers must also invest in public education, regulatory clarity, consumer protection, and infrastructure. Adoption should be careful, incremental, and democratic. 

El Salvador’s story should not be dismissed as a failure. It was a bold experiment that offered real lessons about timing, trust, and readiness. As the world moves further into the digital currency era, these lessons will only grow more relevant. 

Featured/Headline Image Caption and Citation: Bitcoin, Image sourced from The Central American Group | CC License, no changes made

The Cold War may feel like distant history, but its echoes are unmistakable in today’s geopolitical landscape as the United States once again arms foreign allies to counter authoritarian threats. Just as the United States armed Western Europe through NATO to contain Soviet expansion, today it supplies weapons to Taiwan and Ukraine to deter aggression from authoritarian powers. But as Joseph Nye argues in The Future of Power, success in today’s global order depends not only on military strength but also on the ability to shape global norms, alliances, and narratives—a concept known as “smart power.”¹ A more effective approach requires not just military deterrence, but also sustained diplomacy through consistent communication, long-term partnerships, and multilateral cooperation. Supporting allies with weapons can buy time and create leverage. But without strong diplomatic engagement to address deeper tensions like national identity, territorial disputes, and economic dependence, conflict is more likely to escalate. To avoid open war and preserve global stability, the U.S. must pair defense with meaningful efforts to reduce miscalculation, open communication channels, and engage even with its rivals.

To understand modern U.S. diplomatic strategy, it helps to revisit the Cold War. Although the United States and the USSR were allies during World War II, cracks in their relationship emerged as early as 1945 due to conflicting visions for the postwar world—particularly over the political future of Eastern Europe and the spread of communism. In response, the United States adopted a policy to deter Soviet power through the Truman Doctrine, pledging aid to governments threatened by communist subversion, and the Marshall Plan, which provided billions of dollars in economic assistance to stabilize fragile democracies. 

These initiatives were complemented by arms sales, a cornerstone of the U.S. strategy to counter Soviet expansion. By supplying NATO countries with weapons to fortify Western Europe, the United States sent a clear signal of its commitment to defending its allies while avoiding direct military confrontation. This strategy extended globally, with arms sent to nations battling communist insurgencies, such as Greece, Turkey, South Korea, and Vietnam. Arms sales shifted the balance of power in favor of U.S. allies and created a web of fortified partnerships that defined Cold War geopolitics.

Today, this strategy finds parallels in U.S. arms sales to Taiwan—but military support alone is not enough. The Taiwan Relations Act of 1979 legally obligates the U.S. to provide Taiwan with the means to defend itself, reflecting a Cold War-style commitment to deter authoritarian expansion, this time from China. By supplying F-16 fighter jets, Patriot missile defense systems, and precision-guided munitions, the U.S. seeks to strengthen Taiwan’s defensive posture and discourage a Chinese assault. 

A balanced strategy would recognize that deterrence through arms is only part of the solution; it must be complemented by reestablishing direct military and political communication channels with Beijing to prevent dangerous misunderstandings, supporting regional coalitions to share security responsibilities, and investing in Taiwan’s civil and economic resilience. In other words, balancing strength with steady dialogue offers both a deterrent and an off-ramp, minimizing the chance of conflict while preserving space for resolution.

Modern deterrence must go beyond military might to include diplomatic strategy, multilateral cooperation, and economic engagement. Arms sales alone cannot resolve the underlying tensions in the Taiwan Strait or elsewhere because they do not address the structural roots of conflict, such as territorial claims, national identity, and trade imbalances. In the realm of diplomacy, perfection in communication is an abstract idea—misunderstandings, mistranslations, and divergent interests are inevitable. 

Yet this should not deter efforts toward improvement. Strengthening diplomatic channels through building a regular, formal communication between U.S. and Chinese military and civilian leaders, establishing crisis hotlines, expanding diplomatic staffing and language expertise in both countries’ embassies, and supporting track-two dialogues among scholars and former officials  are crucial steps toward minimizing miscalculation and building a more stable international order. It also includes developing sustained forum—beyond reactive summits—for negotiation on areas of shared concern like climate change, trade, and global health. These concrete steps are essential to restoring trust and credibility. 

In particular, U.S. engagement with China has lacked consistency and long-term direction. While recent efforts have focused on countering Russia’s aggression in Ukraine through firm diplomatic and military backing, similar engagement with China has been far more uneven. Though China is frequently treated as a strategic competitor—and sometimes an outright adversary—it remains one of the United States’ largest trading partners. This complex interdependence demands a steady and deliberate diplomatic strategy, not just episodic dialogue or reactive policy shifts. Without a clear, consistent approach to China, the U.S. risks deepening misunderstandings, provoking unnecessary conflicts, or losing strategic leverage on global issues, such as climate change and trade. If the U.S. fails to engage proactively, China may feel emboldened to act more aggressively. Michael Swaine, in Creating a Stable Asia, argues that relying solely on deterrence could exacerbate instability rather than prevent it. Washington must therefore invest not only in arms sales, but also in confidence-building measures and regular dialogue with Beijing to reduce uncertainty and miscalculation.

What’s needed is a consistent, bipartisan approach that prioritizes strategic diplomacy as much as strategic defense. That includes reopening and strengthening military and diplomatic channels with Beijing, setting clear terms for cooperation in areas such as climate change and public health, and building multilateral mechanisms in the Indo-Pacific that go beyond military alliances. Engagement does not mean appeasement—it means acknowledging interdependence and using communication as a tool to prevent escalation.

At the same time, Taiwan must also take a more proactive role in its own defense, reducing reliance on U.S. support while continuing to invest in asymmetric capabilities and resilience. If Taiwan does not strengthen its own defense capabilities, it risks becoming too dependent on the U.S., which could weaken its negotiating position and make it more vulnerable to Chinese intimidation. Taiwan’s reliance on external support could also strain U.S.-Taiwan relations if U.S. resources become overstretched due to other global commitments. A more self-reliant Taiwan would not only deter Chinese aggression but would also signal to both China and the international community that Taiwan is capable of defending itself, reducing the likelihood of a confrontation. A balanced strategy—combining self-reliance, constructive engagement, and targeted arms support—offers the best path to security without deepening regional instability.

From Vietnam to Iraq, history shows that deterrence without diplomacy often backfires. The 20th-century containment strategy may still be in use, but the world has changed. Taiwan must not become the next example. Military aid must be matched with sustained diplomatic engagement to reduce tensions and preserve stability. As Joseph Nye reminds us, “Power does not lie in brute strength, but in the ability to shape the preferences of others,” underscoring that diplomacy is not a soft alternative—it’s a strategic necessity.² Only by balancing strength with strategy can the U.S. uphold its democratic ideals without reigniting Cold War-style crises.

1. Joseph S. Nye Jr., The Future of Power (New York: Public Affairs, 2011). ↩︎
2. Ibid. ↩︎

Featured/Headline Image Caption and Citation: American and Taiwanese Flags, Image sourced from Flickr | CC License, no changes made

In recent years, artificial intelligence (AI) has become a key component of the US Department of Homeland Security’s (DHS) technological strategy, particularly in border enforcement and immigration control. From facial recognition at airports to algorithmic cargo screening and predictive threat assessments, the DHS has embraced AI under the promise of national security and operational innovation. Given strong public concerns regarding surveillance overreach and algorithmic bias, it is essential to thoroughly examine this innovation and establish necessary safeguards. The intersection of AI, border control, and human rights raises urgent questions: Who benefits from these technologies? Who is harmed? And how are systemic inequalities reinforced through digital governance?

The AI Push at DHS

According to the DHS AI Use Case Inventory, Customs and Border Protection (CBP) has the highest number of distinct AI applications among all DHS branches, with 75 identified use cases across various operational contexts. These systems are designed to scan cargo, validate identities, detect anomalies, and assess potential threats at ports of entry. Other DHS branches, such as US Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) and Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), also heavily rely on AI technologies to process applications, track migration trends, and support enforcement actions.

These systems are either classified as in deployment or pre-deployment phases. For example, 31 cases are currently deployed within CBP, with 13 marked as potentially impacting public safety and rights. Notably, many of these uses involve the collection of biometric data, including facial recognition and facial capture technologies, which are known to have disproportionately high error rates for people of color and raise heightened privacy concerns.

AI initiatives within DHS are formally governed by frameworks such as the Office of Management and Budget’s (OMB) Memorandum M-24-10 and President Biden’s Executive Order 14110 on trustworthy AI. These policies require agencies to designate Chief AI Officers, establish governance boards, and implement risk management practices. According to its principles, DHS’s AI must be “lawful, mission-appropriate, and mission-enhancing” as well as “safe, secure, responsible, trustworthy, and human-centered.” The oversight of these AI deployments is managed in part by the DHS Privacy Office and the Office for Civil Rights and Civil Liberties (CRCL). 

Yet, despite these procedural safeguards, critics argue that the system lacks genuine human rights accountability, particularly when AI intersects with immigration enforcement, a domain already saturated with structural racism and xenophobia.

Racialized Implications of AI at the Border

Civil society organizations, including the Promise Institute for Human Rights and the Black Alliance for Just Immigration (BAJI), have voiced grave concerns about the racial justice implications of AI at the border. In a 2023 thematic hearing before the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR), these groups highlighted how AI-driven border technologies exacerbate existing racial discrimination, particularly against Black migrants. The Promise Institute’s submission warned that AI-enabled policies of deterrence and border externalization perpetuate the same patterns of exclusion and abuse that have historically plagued US immigration systems.

The testimony argued that without a racial justice lens, the deployment of border technologies only intensifies the racial discrimination already at the heart of the US immigration system. Technologies like facial recognition, which studies have shown to be less accurate for people with darker skin tones, are particularly prone to reinforcing bias when used in enforcement scenarios. 

These concerns are not hypothetical. The use of AI in immigration contexts has already resulted in wrongful detentions, misidentifications, and an erosion of due process. Predictive algorithms used to assess risk or determine case prioritization can reflect and reproduce biased data, creating feedback loops that disproportionately target racialized communities.

Governance Gaps and Power Imbalances

While the DHS has proposed its AI Governance Board as a mechanism for oversight, this council is primarily composed of senior DHS officials, including representatives from CBP, ICE, and other enforcement agencies. Independent human rights experts, public defenders, and civil society actors are absent. This power imbalance limits the scope of internal accountability and fails to represent the perspectives of those most affected by AI policies.

The lack of external oversight is compounded by leadership volatility. The inaugural Chief AI Officer of DHS, Eric Hysen, served during the Biden administration until January 2025. His successor, David Larrimore, departed only months later in April 2025, leaving the role vacant at a critical time. This instability raises questions about the continuity of ethical governance and long-term strategic oversight of DHS’s AI strategy. Several use cases in the DHS inventory are either too new to assess for rights implications or have been prematurely deemed non-impacting despite clear potential concerns. For example, face recognition technologies, a known flashpoint for civil liberties violations, are in active use but have not consistently been flagged as rights-impacting in DHS’s internal assessments.

Legal Compliance vs. Ethical Responsibility

The DHS insists that its AI practices are lawful and compliant with privacy and civil liberties policies. But legality does not equal justice. Policies like M-24-10, while well-intentioned, focus heavily on internal procedures and documentation rather than substantive human rights protections. They do not require external review by civil society or provide meaningful mechanisms for affected individuals to seek redress. The US government’s approach to AI in border control often assumes that technological development leads to better governance. This assumption ignores the broader socio-political context in which these technologies operate, one marked by decades of exclusionary immigration laws, racial profiling, and militarization of the southern border.

International Implications and Global Trends

The United States is not alone in deploying AI for border enforcement. Countries such as the United Kingdom, Australia, and members of the European Union have similarly adopted AI technologies to monitor and manage migration. This global trend raises concerns about a growing international norm where surveillance and control are prioritized over human rights. As wealthier nations expand AI surveillance at their borders, the brunt of its harms is disproportionately felt by migrants and asylum seekers from the Global South, regions historically shaped by economic exploitation, climate disruption, and political instability. As such, the consequences of border technologies trickle far, affecting migrants and asylum seekers who are already navigating precarious conditions. Recognizing this global dimension is crucial to building AI governance frameworks that are both ethically grounded and internationally accountable.

The Need for Rights-Based AI

A genuinely responsible AI strategy for border enforcement must go beyond internal compliance checklists. It must incorporate binding human rights standards, transparency mechanisms, and participatory design processes that center the experiences of marginalized communities. The United States has an opportunity to lead by example in aligning its national security strategies with democratic values and human dignity. But that can only happen if the deployment of AI at the border is held accountable not just to bureaucratic standards, but to the people it affects most deeply.

Artificial intelligence, while often beneficial, is not neutral. When embedded in immigration enforcement, it risks reinforcing the same inequalities that civil rights movements have long fought to dismantle. As the DHS continues to expand its AI capabilities, the need for critical scrutiny and structural reform becomes more urgent. Technology should not be a tool for deepening exclusion, but a means to uphold justice. That goal demands transparency, accountability, and a fundamental rethinking of what it means to secure a border in a way that respects human rights.

Featured/Headline Image Caption and Citation: AI Code, Image sourced from European Alternatives | CC License, no changes made