Today’s global political landscape does not clearly favour the old rules, nor does it seem committed to building a new, stable world order. Instead, it increasingly reflects a diffuse, often chaotic tilt — where long‑standing principles like those embodied in the UN Security Council and other global rulebooks are eroding in practice, even if they remain in place in theory.
The world today feels overwhelming: multiple active conflicts, civil wars, and intensifying geopolitical rivalries dominate the headlines at the same time. There is Israel vs. Hamas in Gaza, the U.S.-Israel-Iran triangle, Russia’s war in Ukraine, the Sudan conflict, tensions in Somalia and Pakistan, U.S.-Venezuela friction, and many others. This is not just a list of separate crises; it is a symptom of a deeper disorder.
The deeper challenge is that current global dynamics are shaped by power diffusion — a multipolar system where power is no longer concentrated in a single hegemon or bloc, but spread across competing states and blocs. In this system, trade, technology, and security evolve along mismatched, overlapping tracks, and ad‑hoc alliances often matter more than long‑standing norms or institutions.
Global trade is increasingly shaped outside the WTO framework, whether through new U.S. tariffs, regional trade tussles, or bilateral deals driven by the U.S. and China. At the same time, the “Eastern” model — led by China and Russia and increasingly by the BRICS group — pushes economic relations through bilateral and plurilateral deals, new development finance, and infrastructure corridors, often bypassing traditional Western‑led institutions and their rules.
The conflicts themselves vary widely: by duration, by cause, and by geography. Some are long‑standing “grinds” over land, resources, or identity; others are sudden escalations driven by strategic miscalculation or power vacuums. What they share is that no single global order imposes clear constraints; instead, the absence of hierarchy only amplifies unpredictability.
No area shows this fragmentation more clearly than technology. The world’s two dominant tech ecosystems — the Western bloc (led by the U.S.) and the Sino‑Russian bloc — are developing under different rules and values. The U.S. and its allies emphasize market‑driven innovation bounded by liberal‑democratic norms. China and Russia, in turn, pursue state‑coordinated strategies, embedding socialist core values and “civilizational defence” into their tech development.
Emerging economies, including Ethiopia and many African and Global South countries, are carving out their own paths, blending elements of East and West to create new models of political and economic relations. The result is a value‑based fragmentation of technology: incompatible systems, competing standards, and parallel infrastructures (like the U.S.-led Artemis and the China‑Russia ILRS in lunar exploration) that limit access to each other’s tools and slow down overall scientific progress.
This fragmentation duplicates effort, limits cross‑pollination of ideas, and makes it harder to build truly global standards, especially in sensitive areas like artificial intelligence and cyber norms. AI systems are increasingly coded to reflect specific political values, which makes interoperability and mutual trust far more difficult.
In this diffuse landscape, traditional alliances are under strain. The old idea of a fixed “bloc” — NATO, the EU, BRICS — is giving way to a “multi‑speed” order where partners constantly recalibrate based on immediate interests, not just ideology. Survival and economic self‑interest often trump long‑term commitments.
The European Union, a traditional partner of the U.S., finds itself caught between Washington and Beijing. European countries, including Germany, continue to sell advanced machinery and tech to China while pushing their own “technological sovereignty” through regulations like the EU AI Act. This is not hypocrisy, but pragmatism: protecting economic interests while asserting distinct political values.
At the same time, the U.S. has deepened rifts by imposing tariffs even on close allies (like Denmark and the UK), revealing that economic security concerns can override traditional alliance unity. The U.S. interest in Greenland, presented as a matter of “hemispheric defence” in the Arctic, is seen in Europe as a redline over sovereignty, potentially pushing core allies toward alternative alignments.
These moves reflect a broader trend: the erosion of trust is no longer limited to trade disputes, but extends to core questions of sovereignty and security. Old alliances are not collapsing, but they are becoming more transactional and conditional.
One of the most concrete examples of this power shift is the global energy transition, particularly in transportation. The rise of electric vehicles (EVs) is not just a climate story; it is a geopolitical and economic one.
EVs significantly reduce dependence on oil by replacing internal combustion engines with electric drivetrains, which are far more energy‑efficient. This shift cuts tailpipe emissions, improves urban air quality, and reduces greenhouse gas emissions — especially as electricity grids rely more on renewables.
For many developing economies, including Ethiopia, this is transformative. Countries that spend billions importing oil can now leverage their own cheap, renewable energy (like hydropower) to power transport instead. This lowers import bills, eases foreign‑exchange pressure, and turns energy vulnerability into a form of self‑reliance.
Ethiopia exemplifies this shift. The country has enacted a world‑first ban on importing fossil‑fuel vehicles (from January 2024) and aims to have 500,000 EVs on the road by 2030, up from about 115,000 today. This is driven by the urgent need to reduce a massive fuel import bill while building energy sovereignty.
However, success depends on real infrastructure: thousands of charging stations nationwide, not just in Addis Ababa. Today, with only about 100 public chargers (mostly in the capital), long‑distance EV travel is nearly impossible. The government’s commitment is commendable, but the policy will need large-scale, equitable investment in charging networks and supportive regulations to truly reach the broader population.
The current trajectory is clear: a more fragmented world, where power is diffuse and global systems are split not only in supply chains but also in foundational standards and values. Technology is both a driver of change and a new arena of competition, reinforcing parallel, incompatible systems.
In this landscape, norms like the UN Security Council and WTO are increasingly sidelined in favour of pragmatic, ad‑hoc alignments. The old idea of a single global order, top‑down and rule‑based, is fading — replaced by a complex, multi‑speed reality where states, blocs, and even cities navigate their own paths.
This is the new world, whether we like it or not. The challenge for policymakers, businesses, and societies is not to wish for a return to a mythical past order, but to build resilience, agility, and cooperation within this fragmented, multipolar system.
