General

For over a hundred years, the study of International Relations (IR) has been shaped by a handful of big ideas about how the world works. These ideas were developed in European and American universities, refined through the experiences of major powers, and exported globally as the standard vocabulary of global politics. They introduced concepts such as sovereignty, anarchy, intervention, development, and even peace. For many people working in business, governance, or international partnerships today, these ideas sit quietly in the background, shaping how organisations interpret global risk, competition, or cooperation. However, for an increasing number of thinkers, particularly in Africa and the wider Global South, there is a sense that this traditional view is incomplete. It describes the global order as if it arose naturally from European diplomacy, free markets, and the aftermath of two world wars. It depicts the West as the centre of the system, with the rest of the world as an extension to be governed, developed, or stabilised. This is where postcolonialism enters the stage. It is not just a critique, but a correction, a way of presenting a more complete story about how the world truly works. For business leaders, policy professionals, and everyone involved in making decisions in a global context, it offers tools to better understand power relations that traditional theories often overlook. We need to examine the central ideas of postcolonial thought, explain why it questions the foundations of mainstream international relations, and demonstrate why these insights are important well beyond the classroom. The Foundations of International Relations Were Built in an Imperial World To understand why postcolonial scholarship pushes back so strongly, we must start with how the discipline of international relations was born. It did not develop in a neutral global setting. Instead, it took shape during the height of empire. When early IR scholars wrote about international order, they often described it using language that suggested a self-contained European system: the rise of the modern state, diplomacy among great powers, and the balance of power that supposedly stabilised the continent. What these narratives quietly omitted was the wider context, the fact that European states also controlled vast overseas empires, extracted wealth, forced labour, and reshaped entire societies. Postcolonial scholars argue that this erasure is more than just a historical footnote. It influences how the discipline understands politics today. If the origins of global order are framed as European, peaceful, and orderly, then the violence and coercion that brought most of the world into that order are treated as peripheral, accidental, or irrelevant. This creates a problem for anyone trying to understand international business, development policy, or security dynamics. The world inherited from empire is deeply unequal, and those inequalities continue to influence markets, partnerships, and global governance. Ignoring that history or treating it as something outside the discipline, limits our understanding. Why Postcolonialism Challenges Conventional IR: The Core Claims Postcolonialism aims to reveal what is absent, concealed, or downplayed in mainstream approaches. Three themes constitute its core. 1. Conventional IR universalises Western experience. Traditional IR considers categories like “state behaviour”, “rational action” or “sovereignty” as universal. Postcolonial scholars argue these categories are not universal at all; they are historically specific to Western Europe and were disseminated through empire. This matters because it shapes which questions IR considers important. If Western experience becomes the standard, the rest of the world is judged based on its proximity to that model. States in Africa, Asia, and Latin America are described as “emerging”, “fragile”, “developing”, or “post-conflict”, while Western states are simply considered “normal”. The bias is subtle, but powerful. 2. Eurocentrism shapes narratives of peace, development and intervention. Postcolonialism argues that much of what is called “peacebuilding”, “democracy promotion” or “development assistance” relies on the assumption that Western models of institutions and governance are inherently superior. Even well-meaning interventions can reinforce hierarchies because they treat non-Western actors as objects of policy rather than as agents. This helps explain why large development programmes often face resistance or why some states push back against donor conditionalities. The issue is not just political; it is philosophical. People resent being seen as recipients of an imported model rather than as partners in shaping their own systems. 3. IR often separates today’s global politics from the violence that shaped it. For postcolonial scholars, the biggest problem with conventional IR is that it treats empire as a closed chapter. It analyses today’s conflicts or inequalities without acknowledging the historical processes that created them. In practical terms, this means: This separation makes it harder to explain why patterns of inequality persist. Postcolonial research, especially work that focuses on how empire structured global markets and political systems, reconnects the present to its historical roots. Why This Matters for Business and Policy At first glance, postcolonial theory may seem too abstract or philosophical for the practical realm of business strategy or development decision-making. But its insights have clear implications for how companies, governments, and multilateral organisations operate. 1. Markets are embedded in power. Investment flows, trade partnerships, and regulatory frameworks are often shaped by historical relationships. A company operating in Africa may find that certain sectors are dominated by external actors not because of efficiency but due to long-standing patterns of extraction. 2. Policy interventions require contextual legitimacy. Development programmes that fail often do so not because they are technically flawed, but because they do not align with local political histories. Postcolonial thinking warns policymakers about the danger of offering one-size-fits-all solutions. 3. Risk assessment changes when history is part of the equation. Political risk analysis usually concentrates on elections, conflict, and regulation. However, postcolonial perspectives emphasise deeper structural forces, such as resentment towards external influence or long-standing inequalities, which can alter outcomes. What Postcolonialism Adds to Our Understanding of Global Power 1. It makes visible what conventional IR overlooks. When mainstream theories describe international order through state-centric models, they often ignore the actors who bear the consequences of global decisions, such as workers in supply chains, communities affected by

For decades, the global economy has promised convergence. The message has been straightforward: open your markets, liberalise your trade, attract investment, and prosperity will follow. Yet many nations across the Global South (primarily Africa, Asia, Latin America, and Oceania) have followed this path and still find themselves burdened by persistent poverty, inequality, and dependence. To understand why, one must turn to dependency theory, a framework that shows how the structure of the global economy influences the condition of the poor in the developing world. The Structure of Dependence Dependency theory argues that the world economy is not a level playing field. It is a hierarchy of relationships between an industrialised “centre” and a resource-exporting “periphery.” Wealth flows from the periphery to the centre through trade, investment, and technology transfer, leaving developing nations structurally disadvantaged. The consequence is that poverty in these regions is not accidental or temporary but embedded in the very logic of global capitalism. This imbalance ensures that while the industrial powers accumulate capital, technology, and political influence, the periphery remains trapped in low-wage manufacturing, commodity exports, and debt. In many developing countries, large portions of the population still lack access to the benefits of growth. Industrialisation occurs, but only superficially and is limited to sectors dependent on imported technology and foreign capital. The outcome is a dual economy: a small, modern elite connected to global markets and a large population living on the margins. This structure reproduces itself generation after generation. It affects how governments plan, how policies are designed, and even how the poor view their own situation. When entire national budgets rely on the export of raw materials or the influx of foreign loans, the poor become collateral in the larger game of international economics. Every fluctuation in commodity prices, every interest rate hike, and every policy reform demanded by creditors ripples through households that live from harvest to harvest or paycheck to paycheck. The Historical Roots of Underdevelopment Dependency theory redefines poverty not as a failure to modernise but as a result of historical and structural connections to global capitalism. The underdeveloped world’s economic systems were designed to serve the needs of industrial powers. Profits, natural resources, and decision-making power flow outward, while debt, dependence, and inequality remain deeply rooted. The relationship between rich and poor nations mirrors that between the urban and rural classes within them, where elites often act as intermediaries, maintaining global patterns of extraction. The accumulation of wealth at the top of developing societies also mirrors global inequality, further marginalising the poor domestically. Therefore, dependency operates on multiple levels (global, national, and local), ensuring that the same mechanisms that generate wealth for a few also produce poverty for the many. Under colonialism, this structure was explicit. Colonies existed to enrich their metropoles, their parent state. After independence, the structure became more subtle but no less powerful. Aid, foreign investment, and trade agreements replaced direct rule, but the outcome remained the same: the ongoing extraction of value from the South to support prosperity in the North. The poor in developing countries became the invisible labour force of a global economy built on cheap inputs and expensive outputs. Integration on Unequal Terms One of dependency theory’s most lasting insights is that joining global markets does not ensure shared prosperity. Developing nations often enter the system on unequal terms, accepting low export prices, foreign ownership of industries, and dependence on imported goods. Even as economies expand, the pattern of inequality persists; the wealth created by labour and resources in the South benefits corporations and consumers in the North. This inequality is not only economic but also political. Decisions regarding interest rates, investment, and trade terms are often made outside the borders of developing countries, within global institutions and corporate boardrooms. Such asymmetry deprives poorer states of sovereignty and restricts their ability to prioritise domestic welfare over international obligations. When debt repayment takes precedence over healthcare or education, the poor pay the price for dependency. Financial, technological, and informational dependence all reinforce the same subjugation. The poorest are doubly marginalised, excluded from local opportunities and exploited by global structures that keep their countries reliant. For example, the technologies that boost modern productivity are owned by firms in developed countries, meaning that developing nations must pay for access even to participate in global markets. This creates a cycle where innovation deepens inequality. Modern Faces of an Old Problem In the twenty-first century, the nature of dependency has evolved. While Western powers once dominated global trade, new participants have emerged. South–South relationships, especially between Africa and Asia, are often praised as alternatives to old colonial hierarchies. However, they frequently perpetuate the same inequalities. Raw materials still flow outward; manufactured goods and loans still flow inward. The language of partnership masks ongoing imbalances. China’s engagement with Africa illustrates this dynamic clearly. Infrastructure projects and loans promise progress but often lead to new financial burdens and strategic dependencies. For many countries, options are limited: they trade one patron for another. The impoverished rarely reap the full advantages of these grand initiatives, as debt repayments, resource extraction, and elite contracts eat into national gains. When governments prioritise infrastructure repayment over social services, it is the rural farmer, the urban informal trader, or the unemployed youth who suffer the most. Moreover, modern dependency encompasses not just physical resources but also data, technology, and information. Digital dependency now characterises the 21st century, where developing countries rely on imported software, foreign cloud storage, and global payment systems that collect data and profits abroad. The poor, whose livelihoods increasingly depend on mobile technology, remain consumers rather than beneficiaries of the digital revolution. The Persistence of Structural Inequality Dependency theory remains powerful because it explains why poverty endures even when national economies grow. The world’s economic order rewards those who control technology, capital, and finance, rather than those who supply labour and materials. This system creates prosperity for some precisely by maintaining others in subordination. Globalisation has not eliminated this imbalance; it has

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