By Dionísio Babo Soares, Ph.D.
When Samuel P. Huntington warned of a possible “clash of civilizations” in The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order (1996), and Francis Fukuyama advanced the thesis of “the end of history” in The End of History and the Last Man (1992), both sought to interpret a moment of profound transition. With the close of the Cold War, liberal democracy appeared to be asserting itself as the predominant model, and globalization nurtured the expectation of greater convergence among political and economic systems. For a time, the idea gained ground that the ideological competition that had defined the twentieth century was drawing to a close, or would gradually give way to cleavages of a civilizational nature.
Three decades on, however, the international context is proving far more intricate than was then anticipated. The rise of China as a major power, the reassertion of actors such as Russia, and the evolution of frameworks such as the BRICS have contributed to a mounting contestation of the liberal international order, at both the normative and the institutional levels. At the same time, persistent regional conflicts, the instrumentalization of religious and cultural identities, and the fragmentation of consensus around globalization have come to resemble, to varying degrees, the dynamics Huntington described—without, however, producing the scenario of inevitable confrontation between civilizational blocs.
Perhaps no other political figure has captured the nature of this transformation as sharply as Singapore’s Minister for Foreign Affairs, Dr. Vivian Balakrishnan. Speaking before Parliament on March 3, 2025, Singapore’s chief diplomat cautioned that the present juncture does not amount to a fleeting shift in the “diplomatic weather,” but rather constitutes what he eloquently termed geostrategic climate change—a structural and enduring transformation of the international system. In the same address, Balakrishnan described the emerging world as moving from unipolarity to multipolarity, from free trade to protectionism, from multilateralism to unilateralism, and from globalization toward a rising hyper-nationalism—a diagnosis that, although articulated from a Southeast Asian city-state, clearly resonates with the experience of many other small states, Timor-Leste among them.
The premises underpinning Fukuyama’s thesis—liberal democracy as the endpoint of political evolution—have been challenged not only by the persistence of authoritarian regimes, but above all by their capacity for adaptation and resilience. At the same time, Huntington’s vision has resurfaced in new formulations, without, however, establishing itself as the organizing principle of global politics. Over this trajectory, what has most shifted is the very structure of power itself.
The United States, for decades the principal pillar of the liberal international order, today finds itself confronting heightened domestic contestation and the need to recalibrate strategic priorities. The resurgence of nationalist currents in American politics—visible, among other phenomena, in the movement associated with Donald Trump—has accentuated a more transactional approach centered on the national interest in matters of alliances, trade, and global governance. This does not signal an abandonment of international leadership, but rather its reconfiguration along more selective lines shaped by domestic politics.
At the same time, China’s rise has not followed the trajectory of political liberalization that many had predicted. On the contrary, it has combined economic expansion with political centralization and technological ambition, projecting an alternative model of modernity that challenges Western assumptions about governance, development, and sovereignty. To all this must be added a profound transformation of the global economy. Globalization is no longer perceived chiefly as a synonym for seamless integration; it is now marked by strategic decoupling, the diversification of supply chains, and the growing relevance of regional economic blocs. Restrictive trade measures have increased significantly, industrial policy has returned to the center of state action, and economic security has become inseparable from national security.
This environment has accelerated the formation of regional arrangements and more flexible “minilateral” formats—from Indo-Pacific partnerships to Gulf-centered economic coalitions—reflecting a world in which cooperation is increasingly pragmatic, sectoral, and interest-driven, and less oriented toward universalist convergence. It is against this backdrop that the future of the international order may be analyzed through four competing—and in many respects overlapping—trajectories, which together help to illuminate the hybrid character of the emerging system.
The first of these trajectories is civilizational fragmentation, in which cultural identities, historical narratives, and ideological frameworks assert themselves as central drivers of geopolitical alignment. In this scenario, certain elements of Huntington’s thesis regain salience. Religious revivalism, the rise of various nationalisms, and ideological polarization deepen divisions both within and between societies. Multilateral institutions face greater difficulty in mediating such tensions, and global governance tends to become more fragmented, more reactive, and more exposed to contestation.
The second trajectory is technological hegemony, in which the axis of power shifts decisively toward control of advanced technologies. Artificial intelligence, quantum computing, and digital infrastructure increasingly define significant portions of strategic advantage, giving rise to a new form of systemic rivalry centered not only on territories but on competing technological ecosystems. States align themselves not only politically but also technologically, adopting standards, platforms, and governance models associated with the major technological powers. In this context, sovereignty is measured, in part, by computing capacity, by the control of data, and by influence over the shaping of digital norms.
None of these trajectories, however, captures the present moment in isolation. What we are witnessing is the consolidation of a third trajectory, which might be termed the hybrid order. This is not a world organized into rigid blocs or binary choices, but rather a multipolar and adaptive system in which power is diffuse and continuously renegotiated. It is against this backdrop that the experience of certain small and middle-sized states becomes particularly instructive, since it demonstrates how international influence can be built without recourse to territorial size, military might, or demographic weight.
In this regard, paradigmatic examples can be drawn from a variety of latitudes. Some states, well aware that they will never be the principal strategic partner of any great power, have deliberately adopted an omnidirectional engagement strategy, refused automatic alignment, and cultivated credibility with all centers of power. Foreign policy resembles neither a game of chess nor a game of billiards, but rather mahjong—a set of infinitely repeated games in which predictability, consistency, and reciprocity are, over time, the most rewarding strategies. A posture of this kind dispenses with ideological grandstanding: its purpose, essentially, is to secure relevance, preserve room for maneuver, and avoid becoming a sacrificial pawn between rival powers.
Other examples, drawn from diverse geographic and historical settings, reinforce the same lesson. There are states whose armed neutrality, sedimented over centuries, has allowed them to reinvent themselves as privileged platforms for mediation, as hosts to international organizations, and as active promoters of humanitarian law—turning neutrality into a first-rank diplomatic asset rather than a mere abstention. There are others that, by combining a tradition of military neutrality with an active role in regional multilateralism and in United Nations peacekeeping operations, have built a respected voice on matters such as nuclear disarmament, development cooperation, and the protection of human rights. There are also small states that have made conflict mediation and development cooperation the distinctive niches of their foreign policy, having sponsored, over recent decades, some of the most significant peace processes worldwide—at times between parties that had not spoken to one another in generations. And there are, finally, those that, having abolished their armed forces and constitutionally enshrined neutrality, transformed environmentalism, human rights, and disarmament into instruments of international projection, earning a moral authority that far exceeds their territorial or economic scale.
What these cases share is not a common model—they are, in fact, highly distinct from one another—but a common principle. Instead of relying on fixed alliances or rigid blocs, these states turn to flexible, interest-driven partnerships, invest selectively in niches where they can be credible and useful, and treat respect for international law as a strategic asset rather than a merely declared value. The resulting hybrid order does not eliminate fragmentation: it seeks to manage it. It does not resolve competition: it redistributes it. And in doing so, it reflects a deeper transformation—the gradual erosion of the hierarchical structures that defined the twentieth-century international system, and the emergence of more polycentric forms of interaction and governance.
Looking further ahead, a fourth trajectory is beginning to take shape, one that calls into question the very foundations of traditional geopolitics: the post-human transition. As artificial intelligence systems become more autonomous and increasingly embedded in decision-making processes, the nature of power itself is changing. The central question ceases to be merely who governs, and becomes also how governance is exercised—and to what extent human agency remains at the heart of those processes. In this scenario, geopolitical competition may shift from rivalries among states toward a broader contest over the control, the normative framing, and the containment of intelligent systems. The risks will cease to be merely military or economic and will also become functionally tied to the reliability, safety, and accountability of technologies that operate at scales and speeds defying the capacity for human oversight.
Taken together, these dynamics suggest that the world is neither converging toward a single model nor fragmenting into wholly separate systems. It is hybridizing—combining forms of competition, cooperation, fragmentation, and integration that defy the conventional frameworks of international relations theory and practice. The resilience of authoritarian models has shown that economic modernization does not necessarily entail political liberalization, while the experience of the small and medium-sized states referenced above has demonstrated that influence no longer depends exclusively on territorial, demographic, or military scale. In parallel, technological transformation has redefined the very notion of sovereignty, shifting it in part from borders and physical resources toward data, critical infrastructure, and the capacity to innovate.
The implications are profound. Stability in this emerging order will depend not only on military balance or ideological alignment, but equally on the capacity of societies to integrate technology in ways compatible with social trust, inclusion, and institutional resilience. In a setting shaped by disinformation, algorithmic manipulation, and information overload, the ability to verify facts, preserve an evidence-based public sphere, and ensure transparency becomes a strategic asset. Ultimately, the future of the international order will depend on how these forces are managed, at both the national and the multilateral levels. Fragmentation may evolve into prolonged forms of conflict or be tempered by innovative and flexible mechanisms of cooperation; technology may reinforce governance and accountability or, conversely, erode responsibility and human control.
For democracies in particular, the challenge is unmistakable. As governance becomes ever more mediated by technology, it becomes imperative to preserve space for human judgment, informed participation, transparency, and legitimate dissent. This is not merely a matter of defending political values, but of safeguarding the very conditions that make political choice possible. The defining contest of the twenty-first century no longer plays out solely between civilizations or rigid ideological blocs: it increasingly unfolds between the capacity of societies to anchor themselves in a shared and verifiable reality and the forces—technological, political, and ideological—that seek to fragment or distort it. It is in that contest that the configuration of the future world order will, in large measure, be decided.
For the Least Developed Countries (LDCs), of which Timor-Leste is one, this transformation represents not merely a challenge: it is also a strategic crossroads. Remaining on the periphery of the new technological economy would amount to accepting a renewed form of dependency; active participation requires a reorientation of national and diplomatic priorities. The central choice, accordingly, is not between alignment and neutrality, but between irrelevance and the capacity to exercise influence. The risk of marginalization is all the greater when one recalls the warning voiced by Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew, cited by Minister Balakrishnan, from a well-known African proverb: when elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers. For small states, indifference to the movements of the great powers has never been, nor can it ever be, a prudent option.
In this context, Timor-Leste should adopt a deliberate strategy of positioning within the emerging hybrid order. This requires, first, selective investment in building digital sovereignty—infrastructure, connectivity, data governance, and human capital formation—as the foundation of greater future autonomy. Second, it calls for a diplomacy of “variable geometry,” capable of articulating differentiated partnerships with multiple regional and global actors, guided by concrete interests and avoiding exclusive dependencies. Third, it entails reinforcing the use of multilateralism not only as a principle but as an instrument—to amplify the country’s voice, to safeguard its interests, and to help shape emerging norms, particularly in the fields of digital governance and maritime security.
In this connection, one initiative deserves particular emphasis for countries of Timor-Leste’s size: the Forum of Small States (FOSS), established by Singapore in 1992 and today bringing together more than one hundred states—in practice, a majority of United Nations members. Platforms of this nature demonstrate that small states, when acting in coordinated fashion, possess the critical mass required to shape global agendas, to reform multilateral institutions, and to uphold the essential principle of sovereign equality. In the same spirit, Timor-Leste’s active participation in forums such as the CPLP, ASEAN, the PALOP+TL–EU configuration, the g7+, and the various coalitions of island and coastal states on matters of the law of the sea will prove decisive in multiplying channels of influence and preserving political space.
Rather than confining itself to reacting, Timor-Leste can seek to establish itself as a relevant actor in strategic niches where its experience and credibility may carry weight—from ocean governance to the small-states agenda on technology and sustainable development, and on to post-conflict peacebuilding and interfaith dialogue, areas in which the country’s own trajectory affords it a genuine moral authority.
In an international order in flux, advantage no longer belongs automatically to the most powerful, but increasingly to those who act with strategic clarity and coherence. Ultimately, sovereignty in the twenty-first century will be defined not only by territorial borders but also by the capacity to choose, to negotiate, and to influence. It is in that capacity—and in the clarity of the political choices that underpin it—that Timor-Leste’s place in the world order of the future will be decided.
