Five years ago, when the first Patterns column was published, the world seemed increasingly disconnected and divided.
This week we publish the 200th column. While deep divisions persist, the single most powerful narrative that emerges from a rereading of the first 199 – a turnaround in world politics almost unthinkable five years ago – could grace a Valentine’s Day card.
Why We Wrote This
What patterns in international affairs have revealed themselves since we published the first Patterns five years and 200 columns ago? One predominates: relationships are precious.
Relationships are precious things.
Where once truculent nationalism was on the rise, two reality checks have changed the atmosphere.
The COVID-19 pandemic reminded citizens and their governments of the value of solidarity and mutual care. The Russian invasion of Ukraine galvanized a divided West into setting aside narrow national interests and facing up to President Vladimir Putin.
Mr. Putin failed to appreciate the power of relationships, revealed in both the sympathy felt by millions of outsiders toward the Ukrainians, and in NATO’s reinvigorated strength.
But there is another relationship challenge closer to home: rebuilding a sense of partnership and trust between citizens and government, and among citizens.
It won’t be easy, and it, too, risks sounding like a greeting card nostrum. But it, too, has real-life implications.
The freedom – vital for any healthy democracy – for citizens to speak their minds is only half the equation.
Equally important is the ability to listen.
Relationships are precious things.
Those are words you would probably expect to read on a Valentine’s Day card, rather than at the top of a column about international affairs.
But this week’s Patterns is the 200th since it took an initial look, in February 2018, at a world that seemed increasingly disconnected and divided.
Why We Wrote This
What patterns in international affairs have revealed themselves since we published the first Patterns five years and 200 columns ago? One predominates: relationships are precious.
And while deep divisions persist, the single most powerful narrative that emerges from a rereading of the first 199 could indeed grace a Hallmark card.
It is that relationships matter. Or, to rephrase the English poet John Donne, no man, no woman, no citizen, no government, no country, is an island “entire of itself” – a turnaround in world politics almost unthinkable five years ago.
Back in 2018, the prevailing winds were gusting in the opposite direction.
A muscular, even truculent, brand of nationalism was on the rise. It was embodied, as that first Patterns column observed, by then U.S. President Donald Trump’s rallying cry of “America First,” and echoed in Britain’s withdrawal from its decades-long membership of the European Union.
It ranged far more widely, however – across Vladimir Putin’s Russia, Xi Jinping’s China, Narendra Modi’s India, and Jair Bolsonaro’s Brazil.
Yet two jolting stress tests – reality tests – have since made themselves felt.
The first was the COVID-19 pandemic, the greatest such challenge since the worldwide flu outbreak more than a century ago. Then came Mr. Putin’s invasion of Ukraine, provoking the deadliest conflict in Europe since World War II.
The pandemic was nature’s stark reminder of the importance of relationships – both between countries and within them.
As governments fumbled for the most effective response, none emerged unscathed. But those that fared best were those that relied on common bonds.
In Europe, for instance, governments’ initial impulse to turn inward and let neighboring states fend for themselves soon gave way to coordination and cooperation. And those states most effective in dealing with the pandemic – like New Zealand – were those whose leaders managed to galvanize a spirit of fellow-feeling among citizens and, critically, between citizens and their governments.
That rule ultimately held even for the most powerful of autocracies. China’s response, all but shutting its borders and imposing lockdowns on hundreds of millions of people, finally buckled before the spread of a new variant – and extraordinary grassroots pushback.
The war in Ukraine has also reinforced the importance of relationships.
On the eve of the invasion, with some 150,000 Russian troops massed on Ukraine’s border, it seemed quite possible that narrow national interests would preclude any common response from the West.
Indeed, a Patterns column before Mr. Putin attacked suggested he was striking at a politically opportune moment.
Yes, U.S. President Joe Biden had been rebuilding the transatlantic NATO alliance, which Mr. Trump had denigrated and dismissed. But the Europeans remained skeptical about its staying power, especially after having been blindsided by America’s rushed and chaotic withdrawal from Afghanistan. Two key European allies, Germany and France, also seemed reluctant to risk the prospect of a fundamental rupture in their ties with Moscow.
But Mr. Putin turned out to have miscalculated.
Evan Vucci/Reuters
It’s not just that he failed to reckon on the remarkable leadership of Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and the courage of its people.
He also failed to appreciate the power of relationships, revealed in both the sympathy and solidarity felt by millions of people in Europe, the U.S., and beyond toward the Ukrainians, and in NATO’s reinvigorated strength. The alliance pulled back together, emerging reinforced by the decision by two of Russia’s neighbors, Finland and Sweden, to join.
A key question remains open, though: How will renewed recognition of the importance of such relationships impact a still-turbulent world?
The Ukraine war rages on. The world’s two most powerful nations, the U.S. and China, are at loggerheads. The political climate in America and in a number of other democracies remains bitterly partisan.
At least for now, the renewed strength of NATO seems secure. Indeed, there has been a ripple effect in Asia, where American allies have been reinforcing their relationships amid concern that China could take a leaf from Mr. Putin’s book and seek to invade Taiwan.
But there’s a further lesson from the old, post-World War II architecture of world politics: relationships matter not just with friends, but with foes as well. That was a big reason that the Cold War years, in good times and bad, did ensure an underlying stability that helped head off major conflict.
This is something that Washington and Beijing have not yet got right.
And there is another relationship challenge for major democracies closer to home: rebuilding a sense of partnership and trust between citizens and government, and among citizens across increasingly barbed partisan lines.
The encouraging news for America is that democracies are far better positioned to meet that test than ostensibly strong, yet inherently vulnerable, regimes like Iran’s or Russia’s.
But how?
It’s not likely to be an easy process, nor a quick one, and it, too, risks sounding like a greeting card nostrum. But it, too, has real-life implications.
The freedom – vital for any healthy democracy – for citizens to speak their minds is only half the equation.
Equally important is the ability to listen.