Author name: Dr Maxwell Ampong

There was a time when the world could sit down and write new rules. The decades after 1945 saw an extraordinary wave of treaties: the Geneva Conventions, the Law of the Sea, the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, and the conventions that underpin trade, environment, and human rights today. It was a golden age of cooperation, a period when diplomacy was in full momentum. But somewhere around the turn of the millennium, that momentum began to fade. The United Nations Treaty Series clearly illustrates this: while the 20th century averaged over thirty new multilateral agreements each year, the 21st struggles to produce even two. And the ones we get, like the climate commitments, digital governance frameworks, and arms-control updates, often lack the participation of the most influential states. We live in an age of global connectivity, yet we face a diplomatic deadlock. The world keeps talking, but it rarely agrees on anything unanimously. Why the Engine Has Stalled The decline isn’t solely about bureaucracy; it’s about power. The structure of the post-war world rested on two assumptions: that the major powers could cooperate and that the rest of the world would follow. Neither of these now holds true. The United States and its allies no longer dominate the system they created. China and India have risen, the Global South has found its voice, and new blocs, such as BRICS, ASEAN, and the African Union, are seeking equal weight at the table. That shift, though long overdue, has made reaching agreements more challenging. Every issue now comes with competing narratives, legal traditions, and different versions of what fairness looks like. Add to this the political exhaustion of consensus. Most UN bodies still require unanimity before moving forward, a rule designed for harmony that now guarantees paralysis. Every major treaty must satisfy everyone, or it dies. And so most quietly fail, replaced by “soft law”, the non-binding guidelines and declarations that fill the void. Soft law can still shape behaviour. It establishes norms but lacks accountability. It’s like a handshake after a lengthy meeting that sidesteps signatures, a gesture of goodwill rather than a firm commitment to act. Where Law-Making Has Frozen The nature of war has changed faster than the rules that govern it. Most modern conflicts are domestic, including civil wars, insurgencies, or hybrid confrontations that blur the distinction between soldier and civilian. Yet, international law still assumes war is something fought between states. The International Committee of the Red Cross spent a decade trying to modernise these rules to establish clearer standards for detention, humanitarian access, and state accountability. However, from 2008 to 2018, every proposal failed due to political pressure. Major powers refused to restrict their own freedom. The same applies to emerging weapons. The debate on lethal autonomous weapons like drones that can kill without human command has been ongoing since 2016. Yet no treaty exists. Nations argue, delay, and leave the issue to voluntary ethics codes. Even “successes” like the Cluster Munitions Convention (2008) and the Nuclear Weapons Ban Treaty (2017) have limited impact because the world’s largest militaries simply opted out. The result? We end up with rules for 20th-century wars in a 21st-century battlefield. See the problem? Cyberspace exemplifies where law encounters its greatest paradox: everyone is affected, but no one agrees on the rules. States agree that the UN Charter applies to the digital realm, that sovereignty and non-interference still matter, yet they disagree on nearly everything else. Russia and China advocate for a new treaty that considers information itself a weapon. The U.S. and its allies oppose it, cautious of endorsing censorship. Even attempts at shared principles like the 2012 World Conference on International Telecommunications have split the world down the middle. The internet remains governed not by law, but by influence and infrastructure. When Russia introduced a UN cybercrime convention in 2019, it narrowly passed with a slim majority. Western democracies refused to participate, arguing that it granted too much surveillance power to states. As a result, instead of a single, coherent framework, we now have parallel systems and competing legal universes governing the same global network. That fragmentation reflects the current state of global trade and finance. Each bloc is writing its own rules, confident in its own legitimacy, yet collectively less secure. Space might be infinite, but the laws that govern it remain stuck in 1967. The main treaties created before the number of satellites reached tens of thousands mention little about debris, private mining, or the militarisation of orbit. And because the UN space committee operates by consensus, nothing new moves forward. The Russian–Chinese proposal to ban weapons in space was blocked years ago and never revived. The U.S. prefers voluntary norms. China launches anti-satellite tests. Others follow suit. The irony is that soft law, voluntary guidelines, and codes of conduct now do most of the heavy lifting. It’s the “only pragmatic path forward,” as many say. But even that path narrows as competition intensifies. We risk turning space, humanity’s shared frontier, into yet another contested border. For decades, the Sixth Committee of the UN General Assembly has been where international law came alive. It drafted the Vienna Conventions, the Genocide Convention, and the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court. Today, it mostly produces reports. Every major initiative, from defining terrorism to codifying state responsibility, has come to a standstill. The committee’s rule of consensus, once a symbol of unity, now acts as a veto for progress. The International Law Commission, which provides the committee with its drafts, has quietly made adjustments. It now produces documents with “soft-law conversion” in mind, designed to encourage practice rather than to impose binding obligations on states. That’s an adaptation, not a triumph. The One Exception: The Law of the Sea And yet, even in this stagnant world, maritime law continues to thrive. The United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) remains evidence that cooperation can endure rivalry, that shared interests can still outweigh politics. Every state depends on

Power is changing its form. The traditional image of a nation standing tall behind its borders, projecting strength through armies and diplomacy, now faces a quieter, more widespread type: power without borders. The kind that moves through fibre-optic cables, trade routes, data centres, and remittance channels. The type of power that isn’t held solely by states, but also by networks, corporations, and even individuals. As someone who has spent a few decades navigating the intersection of business, policy, and development, I’ve seen this shift firsthand. The Ghana I work in today is not the Ghana of my childhood. Our future now depends not only on political decisions made in Accra but also on boardroom discussions in London, commodity prices determined in Chicago, and algorithms operating in California. The network of interdependence that once linked only diplomats now connects everyone, including traders, tech start-ups, farmers, regulators, and even influencers. This reality is at the heart of what modern political thinkers call transnationalism, the concept that power and influence now flow across national borders through multiple channels, influencing outcomes faster than most governments can react. From Power Over to Power Through Classical realism, as we’ve explored before, treated power as a contest, a rivalry among sovereigns in an anarchic world. But in this era of interdependence, power has evolved from power ‘over’ to power ‘through’. Today, influence relies less on domination and more on participation. The countries, institutions, and companies that succeed are those that can integrate into broader systems without being consumed by them. In business, we refer to this as leverage. In diplomacy, it’s soft power. In life, it’s interdependence. Consider Ghana’s digital economy. A local fintech app might process transactions for small shops in Kumasi, but its servers are hosted in Europe, its data analytics outsourced to India, and its regulatory frameworks guided by global anti-money-laundering standards. The company’s success is woven through a web of foreign and domestic actors, each indispensable, and none in complete control. In that sense, sovereignty now feels more like stewardship than ownership. You don’t possess power; you maintain it through collaboration. The Networked World of Modern Power If realism was about states and armies, transnationalism is about networks and flows. Trade, technology, finance, and migration have become the new instruments of influence. The most powerful entities today, such as Amazon, Google, Visa, Huawei, or even the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA) Secretariat, wield power not by ruling territories but by managing connectivity. In Ghana, this has been clearly evident in both agriculture and finance. When cocoa prices fall, it’s not merely a matter of local production. It’s a ripple in a transnational value chain involving buyers in Amsterdam, factories in Zurich, and logistics routes through Abidjan. When MTN or Vodafone changes mobile-money fees, the decision affects millions of livelihoods and even the informal credit ecosystem. These are examples of economic governance without government, where rules are set not in parliaments but in corporate boardrooms and international regulatory bodies. And this isn’t necessarily bad. Power spread across networks can foster resilience, provided the links are based on fairness and mutual strength. However, it also means nations can no longer pretend that isolation equals control. The Private Sector as the New Diplomatic Actor In this new order, entrepreneurs, banks, and investors have become de facto diplomats. Every cross-border transaction is a micro-act of foreign policy. Every logistics contract, export agreement, or ESG-linked bond shapes how Ghana interacts with the world. At Maxwell Investments Group, we frequently negotiate with partners whose decisions are influenced as much by international climate finance policies as by local economic priorities. A farmer in Tamale growing soybeans today may find her profitability affected by EU carbon standards or American trade subsidies, frameworks she’ll never read but must live under. That’s transnationalism at work: invisible rules, real consequences. That’s also why business leaders must now think like diplomats. We are no longer just market players. We are interpreters of global systems for local realities. Understanding the politics of power, like who sets the rules, who benefits, and who bears the cost, is as essential as understanding balance sheets. Interdependence Is Power So here lies the paradox. Dependence, when structured well, can become a source of power. A nation deeply integrated into trade networks, global supply chains, and knowledge systems can be more influential than one that stands alone. Ghana’s membership in the AfCFTA, its partnerships within ECOWAS, and its growing involvement in green finance initiatives show that interdependence, when managed wisely, enhances capacity. The aim is a healthy balance of economic independence and the ability to engage without subservience. Africa must take this lesson seriously. True independence today means having the power to negotiate your dependencies. To remain relevant, you must be needed; to earn respect, you must be dependable. The nations that will flourish in the next decade are those that learn to turn interdependence into their advantage. The Fragility of Connection But interdependence also comes with vulnerability. When systems are closely connected, shocks spread faster. A cyber-attack in Singapore could disrupt Ghanaian banks. A drought in Argentina might increase bread prices in Accra. A trade policy in Brussels could alter Africa’s industrial future. The COVID-19 pandemic revealed this clearly. Borders shut, supply chains halted, and suddenly the invisible channels of global interdependence became visible and fragile. For businesses, this requires strategic humility. No firm, regardless of size, can fully insulate itself. At MIG, we have learned to view diversification not as a luxury but as a vital survival strategy across products, partners, and even regions. In an interconnected world, resilience is the new power. When Non-State Actors Lead One of the most profound shifts in modern power is the rise of actors that are not states at all. Technology companies, advocacy networks, diaspora communities, and global NGOs now hold influence comparable to medium-sized countries. In Ghana, look at how diaspora remittances surpass foreign aid, influencing entire neighbourhood economies. Or how digital influencers can amplify or damage brand reputations

I’ve spent much of my professional life building systems in finance, agriculture, logistics, and insurance, where outcomes depend just as much on strategy as they do on leverage. Over time, I realised that what we call business strategy in commerce and what political scientists refer to as power in international relations are versions of the same underlying truth. That realisation partly led me to pursue a Master’s in International Relations at the University of Staffordshire. I want to understand the architecture of power, not only in markets but also in the world itself. The journey has introduced me to the school of thought known as classical realism, the view that power, not goodwill or treaties, is the organising principle of international life. It’s a framework that strips away illusion and forces a question uncomfortable but necessary for every business, government, or community: what do you actually control? The Roots of Realism Classical realism emerged in the ashes of failed idealism. The optimism of the post–World War I era, embodied by the League of Nations, had promised that cooperation and law would bring an end to war. Then came the 1930s with fascism, invasion, and collapse. To thinkers like E. H. Carr, this was not just tragedy; it was evidence that moral idealism without power is a luxury reserved for the strong. In ‘The Twenty Years’ Crisis’, Carr wrote that to ignore power as a decisive factor “is purely utopian.” He was not celebrating cynicism but rather warning against naivety. Carr’s insight feels strikingly relevant to modern institutions that confuse vision statements for actual power. Power is not arrogance. It’s the collection of tools and structures that make ideals enforceable. Whether in diplomacy or business, you can only act as far as your leverage reaches. Morgenthau and the Human Condition If Carr sounded the alarm, Hans J. Morgenthau built the philosophy. In ‘Politics Among Nations’ (1948), he argued that “politics, like society in general, is governed by objective laws that have their roots in human nature.” Humans, driven by fear, ambition, and the instinct for survival, create states that mirror those same instincts. In a world without a global government, states act much like individuals do when left to themselves; they pursue power to ensure their survival. Morgenthau defined power broadly: “anything that establishes and maintains control of man over man.” This includes force, persuasion, and prestige. It’s a relational force, not just a material one. The relevance to modern business is clear. Market share, information control, and trust are all forms of power. To manage any system, whether political or economic, is to understand those relationships of influence. Morality Through Power, Not Against It Carr’s most unsettling idea is that morality itself is born from power. “Law and morality in international politics,” he wrote, “are functions of power.” The powerful define norms because they can. The weak moralise because they must. This doesn’t mean morality is false; it means that moral codes only endure when anchored in strength. That lesson goes beyond geopolitics. Both businesses and nations often fail when they confuse intentions with actual capacity. A fair system must also be a strong one. In Ghana’s agricultural markets, for example, fairness to farmers only succeeds when supported by logistics, finance, and enforcement, which are all forms of structural power. In that sense, classical realism subtly underpins sustainable development itself. Prudence as the Realist Virtue Morgenthau regarded prudence as the highest virtue of leadership: the ability to choose the lesser evil over the unreachable good. This concept, developed amid the moral chaos following World War II, still shapes mature governance. The realist leader is not heartless. He is disciplined. He understands that idealism without realism breeds catastrophe. That same prudence sustains institutions. At Maxwell Investments Group, I have observed how businesses thrive when they avoid the temptation of instant success in favour of long-term resilience. Realism in politics and realism in enterprise share a core principle: restraint breeds longevity. Bartlett’s Cold War Lessons Historian C. J. Bartlett extended this thinking to the post-war order in ‘The Rise and Fall of the Pax Americana’ (1974). He noted that “the Americans could use power as realistically as any other state, [but] they used it less consistently and wholeheartedly.” In other words, even superpowers struggle with the tension between moral aspiration and pragmatic necessity. That same tension haunts leadership everywhere, whether in the corporate or government sectors. When we preach values but fail to establish systems that safeguard them, our credibility diminishes. Bartlett’s warning is equally relevant to multinationals that vow sustainability without governance frameworks to uphold it. The Invisible Infrastructure of Power What Carr and Morgenthau understood, and what many forget, is that power often hides in plain sight. It is not only held by armies and economies but also in trust, information, and reliability. Nations, like brands, rise or fall on credibility. When trust is broken, even the most powerful lose leverage. This “invisible infrastructure” explains why realism resonates with modern economics. A financial system relies on faith in regulations. Supply chains depend on mutual reliance. The loss of trust, as seen in the 2008 financial crisis, is ultimately a collapse of power, the power to assure continuity. Realism’s Modern Return Today’s headlines reflect the realist worldview. When Russia invaded Ukraine, when China secured mineral corridors across Africa, and when the U.S. fought for semiconductor dominance, these were not moral dramas but realist manoeuvres. Even the climate transition now follows realist logic: nations pursue sustainability not only to save the planet but to secure advantage in the emerging energy order. In this light, realism is not cynicism; it’s comprehension. It recognises that cooperation requires capability, and peace is upheld not by goodwill but by balance. The African Reading of Power For Africa, realism provides a framework for agency. In global negotiations, moral appeals alone are not enough. States need to build leverage through regional integration, infrastructure, and credible institutions. The African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA) is a realist project disguised as an idealist one; it is turning solidarity into