In this thought-provoking episode, we move beyond traditional theories of international relations—Realism, Idealism, and Constructivism—and explore a radically different framework: the Kingdom of God. While secular models focus on power, cooperation, or evolving norms, this episode challenges listeners to consider how scripture reframes global affairs through the lens of human nature, divine purpose, and spiritual transformation.
We begin by revisiting the optimism of the 1990s, when thinkers like Francis Fukuyama declared “The End of History,” and liberal democracy seemed destined to triumph. But history, as always, had other plans. From Iraq to Afghanistan, the collapse of idealist visions revealed a deeper pattern—one echoed in scripture and repeated throughout the history of human civilization.
Drawing from Genesis 11, we unpack the story of the Tower of Babel as a foundational moment in biblical international relations. Humanity’s attempt to unify and build security through ambition and pride mirrors countless historical cycles. God’s intervention at Babel wasn’t about fear—it was about mercy, preventing self-destruction.
The episode then pivots to Abraham, whose calling marks the beginning of a divine model for nations. Unlike worldly systems, the Kingdom of God begins with a transformed heart, not external power. Through Abraham’s obedience, God introduces a nation built on faith, blessing, and spiritual renewal.
If you’ve ever felt the tension between your faith and the harsh realities of global politics, this episode offers clarity, hope, and a fresh perspective. Join us as we explore how the biblical narrative speaks directly to the heart of international relations—and why the Kingdom of God offers a model unlike any other.
Listen now and discover how scripture reframes the way we understand nations, power, and peace.
International relations has always been, at its core, an attempt to make sense of why nations compete, cooperate, and sometimes collide. Long before the field had a name, thinkers were trying to decode the logic of power—why states rise, why they fall, and why peace so often slips through human fingers. From the battlefields of ancient Greece to the diplomatic chessboards of the Cold War, five major perspectives have defined this long intellectual arc.
1. Classical Realism — Thucydides and the Tragic Logic of Power
The story begins with Thucydides, the exiled Athenian general whose *History of the Peloponnesian War* is widely considered the first great text of international relations. His account of the conflict between Athens and Sparta is not just a chronicle of battles; it is a study of fear, ambition, and the unforgiving nature of an anarchic world. Scholars note that Thucydides provided “the foundations of what has been called in modern times Realpolitik or political realism”.
In the famous Melian Dialogue, the Athenians declare that “the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must”—a line that has echoed through centuries of strategic thought. For Thucydides, the international arena is defined by the absence of a higher authority, the primacy of self‑interest, and the tragic inevitability of conflict when rising and established powers collide. Modern realists—from Hans Morgenthau to Henry Kissinger—still draw on his insights.
2. Renaissance Realism — Machiavelli and the Effectual Truth of Politics
Nearly two millennia later, Niccolò Machiavelli sharpened realism into something colder and more clinical. Writing in the fractious world of Renaissance Italy, he observed firsthand how states maneuvered for advantage amid shifting alliances and foreign invasions. His work helped shape what scholars call “Classical Realism,” a tradition that includes Thucydides, Hobbes, and later Kissinger.
Machiavelli’s contribution was to strip politics of moral pretenses. In The Prince and The Discourses, he argued that rulers must understand the world as it is, not as they wish it to be. Power, he insisted, rests on military strength, strategic deception, and the ability to adapt to fortune’s turns. His realism was not cynicism for its own sake; it was a call to confront the “effectual truth” of political life. In international relations, this meant recognizing that states act out of necessity, not virtue.
3. Liberal Internationalism — The Hope for Cooperation After Catastrophe
If realism is the study of limits, liberalism is the study of possibilities. After World War I, as scholars sought alternatives to the balance‑of‑power politics that had failed so catastrophically, a new perspective emerged: liberal internationalism. It argued that war was not inevitable and that institutions, law, and economic interdependence could tame the anarchic system.
The discipline of international relations itself is often traced to this moment, with the establishment of the first academic chair in the field after the war. Liberal theorists believed that collective security—embodied in the League of Nations—could replace the old logic of rivalry. Though the League faltered, the liberal vision endured, later shaping the United Nations, NATO, and the post‑1945 economic order.
Liberalism’s core claim is that states are not doomed to perpetual conflict. Cooperation is possible when institutions reduce uncertainty, when democracies restrain aggression, and when trade binds nations together. It is a hopeful counterpoint to realism’s darker assumptions.
4. Neorealism and Neoliberalism — The Cold War’s Structural Turn
By the mid‑20th century, realism and liberalism were both reimagined through a more scientific lens. The Cold War’s stark bipolarity encouraged scholars to think in terms of systems, structures, and predictable patterns.
Kenneth Waltz’s Theory of International Politics (1979) pioneered neorealism, arguing that the structure of the international system—not human nature—drives state behavior. In an anarchic world, states must rely on self‑help, balance against threats, and prioritize survival. Power is measured not only in armies but in the distribution of capabilities across the system.
Neoliberalism (or liberal institutionalism) emerged as neorealism’s intellectual rival. Scholars like Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye argued that even in an anarchic world, institutions matter. They reduce transaction costs, create expectations, and allow cooperation to flourish even among self‑interested states. Neoliberalism did not reject realism; it refined it, suggesting that states can pursue absolute gains—not just relative ones—when institutions stabilize expectations.
Together, neorealism and neoliberalism defined the theoretical battleground of late‑20th‑century IR.
5. Constructivism and the Power of Ideas — A New Lens for a New Era
As the Cold War ended, something unexpected happened: the system changed without a shot fired. The Soviet Union collapsed, Germany reunified, and long‑standing alliances reshaped themselves. Material power alone could not explain these transformations.
Enter constructivism, the third major framework of modern IR. Emerging in the late 1980s and 1990s, constructivism argued that international politics is shaped not only by material forces but by ideas, identities, and social norms. Scholars such as Alexander Wendt and Martha Finnemore helped pioneer this approach.
Constructivism’s core insight is simple but profound: states act based on who they believe they are and what they believe others are. Anarchy, Wendt famously wrote, “is what states make of it.” The U.S. does not fear British nuclear weapons the way it fears North Korean ones—not because of capabilities, but because of identities and relationships.
Constructivism opened the door to studying nationalism, human rights, culture, and ideology as drivers of global politics. It explained why norms like sovereignty, humanitarian intervention, and nuclear restraint evolve over time.
The Kissinger Synthesis — Realism for the Modern Age
Henry Kissinger, the diplomat‑scholar who helped steer U.S. foreign policy during the Cold War, stands as a bridge between classical realism and contemporary strategic thought. His work draws heavily on Thucydides and the realist tradition, but he also understood the importance of diplomacy, perception, and psychological nuance.
Kissinger’s statecraft emphasized balance of power, spheres of influence, and the need for order in a world prone to chaos. Yet he also recognized that legitimacy—shared understandings of acceptable behavior—is essential for stability. In this sense, his perspective blends realist and constructivist insights, making him one of the most influential strategic thinkers of the modern era.
A Living Conversation
From Thucydides’ stark realism to Kissinger’s strategic pragmatism, from liberal hopes for cooperation to constructivist attention to identity, the study of international relations has evolved alongside the world it seeks to explain. These perspectives do not replace one another; they coexist, offering different lenses for different moments.
In a century defined by rising powers, technological upheaval, and renewed geopolitical rivalry, the old questions remain. Why do states fight? How do they cooperate? And what, if anything, can prevent history from repeating itself?
The answers, as always, depend on which lens we choose to look through.
If you are interested in learning more about this topic, you will enjoy our podcast series, How the World Works, where we explore the field of International Relations.
Thucydides (c. 460–c. 400 BCE) stands as one of the most influential thinkers of the ancient world—an Athenian historian, general, and analyst whose work shaped not only the study of history but the very foundations of modern international relations. Born in the Athenian deme of Halimous to a father named Olorus, who likely had Thracian aristocratic connections, Thucydides grew up in a world defined by the rise of Athenian power and the tensions that would soon erupt into the Peloponnesian War. Although little is known about his early life, later accounts suggest he may have encountered the historian Herodotus as a youth, an experience that supposedly stirred his passion for inquiry and historical writing.
Thucydides emerged into public life as a member of the Athenian elite, connected through family ties to influential figures such as Miltiades and Cimon. His wealth and status were further reinforced by his ownership of gold mines in Thrace, a resource that granted him both influence and strategic importance during the war between Athens and Sparta. When the Peloponnesian War broke out in 431 BCE, Thucydides was already old enough to grasp its significance and begin documenting its events with the meticulous eye of a soldier‑scholar.
His firsthand experience in the conflict would shape both his life and his intellectual legacy. In 424 BCE, he was elected stratēgos, a high-ranking military commander, and dispatched to defend the strategically vital city of Amphipolis. His failure to prevent its capture by the Spartan general Brasidas led to his exile from Athens for twenty years—a punishment that would ultimately become a gift to history. As Thucydides himself later wrote, exile granted him “leisure to observe affairs more closely” and the unique ability to move among both Athenian and Peloponnesian allies, gathering information from all sides of the conflict.
This dual perspective became the backbone of his monumental work, The History of the Peloponnesian War, a text that not only chronicled the conflict but revolutionized the practice of historical inquiry. Unlike Herodotus, who incorporated myth, divine causation, and cultural storytelling, Thucydides pursued what he called a “possession for all time”—a rigorous, evidence‑based account grounded in human motivations, political necessity, and the dynamics of power. For this reason, he is often called the “father of scientific history”.
Yet Thucydides’ influence extends far beyond historiography. He is widely regarded as the founding figure of political realism, the school of thought that views international politics as a struggle for power shaped by fear, self‑interest, and the pursuit of security. His analysis of the Peloponnesian War is not merely a narrative of battles but a profound exploration of how states behave under pressure, how leaders make decisions, and how power imbalances drive conflict.
One of the most famous examples of his realist insight is the Melian Dialogue, in which Athenian envoys bluntly assert that “the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must.” This stark articulation of power politics has become a foundational text in international relations theory, illustrating the logic of coercion, deterrence, and the tragic consequences of idealism in an anarchic world system. The dialogue remains required reading in military academies and political science programs worldwide.
Thucydides also offered a penetrating analysis of human nature, arguing that fear, honor, and interest—what later scholars would call the “Thucydidean triad”—drive both individuals and states into conflict. His account of the plague in Athens, the civil war in Corcyra, and the rise of demagogues like Cleon reveals how crises expose the darker impulses of human behavior, eroding norms and destabilizing political communities. These insights continue to inform contemporary discussions of war psychology, state collapse, and the fragility of democratic institutions.
His portrayal of Pericles, whom he admired as a model of prudent leadership, further underscores his contribution to political theory. Thucydides’ reconstruction of Pericles’ Funeral Oration remains one of the most studied speeches in Western literature, offering a vision of democratic values, civic duty, and national identity that continues to resonate today. At the same time, his critique of Athens’ later leaders highlights the dangers of populism, strategic overreach, and the erosion of disciplined statecraft.
Thucydides’ life after his exile remains obscure. Ancient sources suggest he may have returned to Athens after its defeat in 404 BCE, possibly due to a law passed by the statesman Oenobius, but the details are uncertain. His History ends abruptly in 411 BCE, leading scholars to conclude that he died before completing it, perhaps violently while traveling back to Athens.
Despite the gaps in his biography, Thucydides’ intellectual legacy is unmistakable. His work laid the groundwork for realist thinkers from Machiavelli to Hobbes to Hans Morgenthau. His insights into power transitions have shaped modern theories such as the “Thucydides Trap,” which examines the likelihood of war when a rising power threatens to displace an established one. His insistence on empirical observation, rational analysis, and the centrality of human nature continues to guide scholars, diplomats, and military strategists.
Thucydides sought to understand not only what happened in the Peloponnesian War but why it happened—and in doing so, he uncovered patterns of behavior that transcend time and culture. His work remains a mirror in which every generation can see its own struggles with power, fear, ambition, and the fragile pursuit of peace.
If you are interested in learning more about this topic, you will enjoy our podcast series, How the World Works, where we explore the field of International Relations.
In this episode of our podcast, we dive deep into the foundationaltheories of international relations—Realism, Idealism, and Constructivism—and explore how they shape global decision-making, diplomacy, and conflict.
We begin by unpacking the historical roots of the international system, often traced to thePeace of Westphalia. However, scholars like Amitav Acharya challenge this Eurocentric narrative, pointing to pre-Westphalian traditions in the Global South. This sets the stage for understanding how power and perspective influence the way we study global politics.
The episode then exploresRealism, the dominant theory adopted by many Western policymakers, including Henry Kissinger. Realism views the world as anarchic and driven by self-interest, where states prioritize survival and power over moral values. We examine how this played out in the U.S.-backed coup in Chile, revealing the tension between democratic ideals and strategic interests.
Next, we turn toIdealism, which emphasizes cooperation, ethical principles, and the potential for peace through institutions like the United Nations. Rooted in Enlightenment thinking and championed by Woodrow Wilson, Idealism offers a hopeful vision—but one often criticized as naïve in times of war.
Finally, we exploreConstructivism, which argues that global politics is shaped by ideas, identities, and social norms. With insights from Alexander Wendt, we discuss how perceptions and relationships redefine threats, alliances, and values over time.
Whether you’re a student, educator, or global affairs enthusiast, this episode offers a clear, engaging breakdown of themain theories of international relations—and how they continue to influence the world today.
Tune in now to explore how Realism, Idealism, and Constructivism reveal the deeper logic behind global events.
Across eight international conflicts, the Trump administration has celebrated what it calls historic peace agreements. But when each case is examined more closely—from Armenia and Azerbaijan to India and Pakistan—the picture becomes far less straightforward. Some agreements resemble surrender more than peace. Others never halted fighting at all. Still others addressed no active war, only long‑standing tensions that remain unresolved. The episode traces these contradictions, not to score partisan points, but to illuminate a deeper worldview shaping U.S. actions on the global stage.
Rather than offering easy answers, the episode invites listeners to consider the deeper forces at work behind glittering announcements and triumphant ceremonies. It asks what history teaches us about power, intention, and the unforeseen consequences that follow bold, headline‑grabbing actions.
The world changed this past weekend with the dramatic U.S. operation to seize Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro. By change, I meant the world went backward to a time that has already proven itself as failed, oppressive, and dangerous on a global scale. President Donald Trump and U.S. foreign policy just led the world back into the age of unabashed “might makes right” foreign policy.
Many governments have already described the U.S. actions in Venezuela as unprecedented and a violation of sovereignty. They are citing principles that expired Saturday night.
While the immediate fallout has centered on U.S.–Russia tensions, the future of Venezuela’s political order, and the shock to global oil markets, one of the most consequential arenas of reaction is thousands of miles away:
China’s Strategic Calculus Toward Taiwan
Beijing’s response blends anger, opportunity, caution, and recalibration, shaped by both the symbolism of the U.S. action and the practical risks of escalation.
Chinese officials swiftly condemned the U.S. raid, framing it as a breach of international law and a destabilizing assertion of unilateral power. This reaction aligns with China’s long-standing narrative that Washington selectively applies the “rules-based international order” to suit its interests—a theme echoed in Chinese state media and highlighted in global reporting.
Analysts note that Beijing viewed the operation not only as an attack on a partner state but also as a humiliation: a high-level Chinese delegation had met with Maduro in Caracas just hours before the raid, and Chinese-made radar systems failed to detect the U.S. aircraft involved. This embarrassment has fueled nationalist anger online, where Chinese netizens have openly suggested that Beijing should adopt similar tactics toward Taiwan, including “decapitation strikes” against Taiwanese leadership.
Yet China’s leadership is far more cautious than its online commentators. While the Maduro operation provides Beijing with rhetorical ammunition—allowing it to portray the U.S. as reckless, hypocritical, and destabilizing—it does not automatically translate into a green light for military action across the Taiwan Strait.
As Bloomberg reporting emphasizes, any Chinese strike on Taiwan would carry vastly higher costs than the U.S. raid in Venezuela, including sweeping Western sanctions, a potential confrontation with the U.S. and its allies, and catastrophic disruption to global semiconductor supply chains. Unlike Venezuela, Taiwan is central to the world economy, and any conflict would reverberate through every major industry.
Still, the Maduro episode does influence China’s strategic thinking in several ways. First, it reinforces Beijing’s belief that Washington is willing to take bold, norm-breaking actions when it perceives a threat or opportunity. This may accelerate China’s efforts to prepare for contingencies in the Taiwan Strait, including blockades, cyber operations, and political warfare. China has already conducted large-scale military drills simulating a siege of Taiwan’s ports and infrastructure, as well as rehearsals for “decapitation strikes” on Taiwanese leadership. The U.S. action in Venezuela may strengthen Beijing’s resolve to continue these preparations, both as deterrence and as rehearsal.
Second, the raid underscores the fragility of China’s influence in regions where it has invested heavily. Venezuela has long been one of Beijing’s closest partners in the Western Hemisphere, a major recipient of Chinese loans, technology, and political support. The sudden collapse of Maduro’s government—engineered by Washington—signals to Beijing that its overseas investments and alliances remain vulnerable to U.S. intervention. This may push China to double down on securing its core interests closer to home, including Taiwan, where it believes it has greater leverage and strategic depth.
Third, the global reaction to the Maduro raid provides China with a diplomatic opening. Many countries, including U.S. rivals, have condemned the operation as a dangerous precedent. Beijing can use this moment to position itself as a defender of sovereignty and stability, contrasting its rhetoric with what it portrays as American adventurism. This narrative is already visible in Chinese statements emphasizing “peace-loving” principles and criticizing unilateral military actions. By framing itself as a responsible power, China seeks to weaken international support for U.S. involvement in Taiwan.
However, the most important factor shaping China’s response is risk. As Newsweek reporting notes, many experts argue that the Maduro operation will not fundamentally alter Beijing’s calculus toward Taiwan, because China’s restraint has never been rooted in respect for international law—it has been rooted in the enormous strategic, economic, and political risks of war. China’s military remains untested in modern combat, and any failed attempt to seize Taiwan would threaten the legitimacy of the Chinese Communist Party. Moreover, Taiwanese society is democratic, resilient, and likely to unify in the face of external aggression, unlike the fragmented political environment in Venezuela.
In the short term, China is likely to respond with *sharper rhetoric, intensified military drills, and increased political pressure on Taiwan. It may also accelerate efforts to undermine Taiwanese morale, interfere in elections, and isolate Taipei diplomatically. But a full-scale invasion or decapitation strike remains unlikely in the immediate aftermath of the Maduro raid. Beijing’s leaders are strategic, not impulsive, and they recognize that the stakes in Taiwan are existential.
In the long term, however, the U.S. action in Venezuela may contribute to a more volatile global environment in which major powers feel freer to test boundaries. If Washington asserts the right to remove foreign leaders by force, Beijing may argue—at least rhetorically—that it has similar rights regarding what it considers a renegade province. This erosion of norms is precisely what many policymakers fear: a world in which great powers increasingly act unilaterally, citing each other’s precedents.
China’s response to the Maduro episode is therefore a mix of anger, calculation, and strategic patience. The Taiwan Strait remains one of the world’s most dangerous flashpoints, and the events in Venezuela have only added new layers of complexity. Whether this moment becomes a turning point depends not only on Beijing’s next moves but also on how Washington, Taipei, and the international community navigate the fragile balance of deterrence and diplomacy in the months ahead.
For five centuries, the Great Powers of the world—Spain, Britain, France, the United States, Russia, Japan, and others—pursued imperialism with the same conviction that gravity pulls downward. Empire was not merely a policy; it was a worldview, a presumption of destiny. Yet history has delivered its verdict with cold consistency: imperialism always fails. It fails morally, strategically, economically, and ultimately existentially. And the lessons, written in the blood and ruins of conquered peoples, have been astonishingly slow for empires to learn.
Today, as new forms of expansionism reappear on the world stage, the seven hard lessons of imperialism deserve renewed attention—not as abstractions, but as lived realities measured in human lives. These are the lessons that should have been considered before the US pursued regime change in Venezuela this past weekend. The kidnapping of the dictator Nicolás Maduro—fits a long pattern of U.S. imperialism in Latin America, but rarely have those efforts been so public and brazen.
Critics contend that by supporting covert operations, backing opposition factions, and attempting to remove a foreign leader through extrajudicial means, Trump extended a century-old tradition of U.S. intervention designed to shape political outcomes in the region. According to this view, the United States has repeatedly used economic pressure, sanctions, and covert action to influence governments it considers hostile to its interests. In the case of Venezuela, critics say Trump framed the operation as a fight for democracy while simultaneously asserting U.S. dominance over another nation’s sovereignty.
Forcibly extracting or overthrowing a sitting head of state—regardless of that leader’s legitimacy—reflects an imperial mindset that treats Latin American nations as arenas for American power rather than independent countries with the right to self-determination. The policymakers who supported such a move would do well to recall the seven hard lessons the greater powers learned about imperialism before America took these first steps into what is sure to become a quagmire.
Imperialism Always Breeds Atrocity
Empires rarely admit this, but the historical record is unambiguous: imperialism and atrocity are inseparable. The logic of empire—domination, extraction, racial hierarchy—creates the conditions for mass violence long before the first shot is fired.
Genocide scholars have increasingly emphasized the deep link between imperial expansion and mass killing, noting that Western empires committed or enabled genocides across the 19th and 20th centuries. The French conquest of Algeria, the German extermination of the Herero and Nama in Namibia, the Belgian terror in the Congo, and the American conquest of the Philippines all share the same pattern: when a people resists domination, the empire escalates to annihilation.
The Philippine insurrection, 1899
Consider the Philippine-American War (1899–1902), a conflict that has largely slipped into what one historian calls “a memory hole.” American forces, determined to seize control of the islands after Spain’s defeat, waged a brutal counterinsurgency campaign. Torture was widespread. Prisoners were executed. Entire villages were burned. Civilians were herded into concentration camps where disease and starvation killed thousands. Estimates vary, but scholars place Filipino civilian deaths in the hundreds of thousands—an astonishing toll for a war that most Americans barely remember.
The lesson is stark: imperialism is not merely accompanied by atrocity; imperialism requires it!
Empires Misjudge the Costs—Every Time
Imperialism is always sold as a bargain. The British believed India would pay for itself. The French believed Algeria would become a profitable extension of the metropole. The Americans believed the Philippines would be a stepping stone to Asian markets. But the arithmetic of empire is a fantasy.
The United States, for example, lost 4,200 soldiers in the Philippine War and spent the equivalent of billions of dollars in today’s currency to suppress a population that had already declared its independence. Britain spent more on garrisoning India than it ever extracted in revenue. France poured treasure and lives into Algeria for 132 years, only to lose it in a catastrophic war that nearly toppled the Fifth Republic.
Imperialism is a fiscal black hole. The costs balloon and the benefits evaporate.
Resistance Is Inevitable—and Usually Stronger Than Expected
Every empire imagines itself irresistible. Every empire is wrong.
From the Mapuche in Chile to the Vietnamese against France and the United States, from the Afghans against Britain, the Soviets, and the Americans, to the Algerians against France, resistance movements have repeatedly outlasted and outmaneuvered far stronger imperial forces.
The Philippines again offers a telling example. American commanders believed the war would last months. Instead, Filipino guerrillas fought for three years, forcing the U.S. to deploy 126,000 troops—an enormous force for the era—and to adopt increasingly brutal tactics to break the insurgency.
Resistance is not a bug in the imperial system; it is the system’s inevitable response. And it is almost always underestimated.
The personification of Germany flees German West Africa, pursued by angry natives who represent the onset of the Herero Wars.
Atrocities Abroad Corrupt Democracy at Home
One of the most overlooked lessons of imperialism is the corrosive effect it has on the imperial nation itself. The violence required to maintain an empire does not stay overseas; it returns home in the form of militarism, racism, and authoritarianism.
Genocide scholars note that Western states not only committed atrocities abroad but later colluded with or facilitated genocides elsewhere—from Indonesia in the 1960s to Guatemala in the 1980s. The habits of empire—dehumanization, secrecy, impunity—become habits of governance.
The Philippine War again illustrates this dynamic. American soldiers wrote home describing torture techniques such as the “water cure,” a precursor to modern waterboarding. These practices, once normalized abroad, reappeared in later conflicts. The moral boundaries eroded by empire rarely rebuild themselves.
Imperialism is not simply a foreign policy; it is a domestic contagion.
“China — the cake of kings and… of emperors” (a French pun on king cake and kings and emperors wishing to “consume” China). French political cartoon from 1898.
Empires Create the Conditions for Future Genocides
Imperialism does not merely commit atrocities; it lays the groundwork for future ones. By redrawing borders, empowering certain groups over others, and imposing extractive political systems, empires leave behind fractured societies primed for violence.
As genocide scholars argue, the international order shaped by imperial powers has enabled postcolonial states to commit genocide—from Bangladesh in the 1970s to Rwanda in the 1990s. The imperial legacy is not just historical; it is ongoing.
The Belgian Congo is perhaps the most infamous example. King Leopold II’s personal empire killed an estimated 10 million Congolese through forced labor, starvation, and mutilation. When Belgium finally annexed the territory, it left behind a traumatized, destabilized society. The Congo’s post-independence history—dictatorship, civil war, mass killing—cannot be understood apart from the imperial violence that preceded it.
Empires do not simply fall; they explode.
The World Eventually Turns Against Empire
Imperialism once carried the sheen of inevitability. Today it carries the stench of illegitimacy. The 20th century witnessed a global moral revolution: the rise of anti-colonial movements, the spread of human rights norms, and the creation of international institutions that—however imperfectly—challenge the logic of conquest.
The United Nations Charter explicitly prohibits territorial acquisition by force. Genocide conventions emerged in part because imperial atrocities forced the world to confront the scale of human destruction wrought by empire. Even the most powerful states now cloak their interventions in the language of liberation, democracy, or humanitarianism—an implicit admission that imperialism has become indefensible.
This shift is not merely rhetorical. It reflects a deeper recognition: empire is incompatible with the modern world’s moral and political expectations.
An American cartoonist in 1888 depicted John Bull (England) as the octopus of imperialism, grabbing land on every continent. HWC925
Imperialism Always Ends in Failure—Even for the Victors
The final and most important lesson is also the simplest: imperialism does not work. It never has.
Spain’s empire collapsed under the weight of debt and rebellion. Britain’s dissolved after two world wars. France’s ended in humiliation in Indochina and Algeria. Japan’s empire evaporated in the ashes of 1945. The Soviet Union’s collapse was accelerated by its disastrous war in Afghanistan. The United States’ imperial ventures—from the Philippines to Vietnam to Iraq—have produced quagmires, not stability. Why should we believe Venezuela will be any different?
Imperialism is not merely immoral; it is unsustainable.
In low class neighbourhoods of Caracas you can come across these political grafittis. ( https://www.flickr.com/photos/erikkristensen/6215886122/)
Conclusion: The Lessons We Keep Forgetting
The seven lessons of imperialism are not obscure. They are written in archives, in testimonies, in demographic collapses, in the ruins of burned villages, and in the memories of survivors. They are written in the statistics of democide—hundreds of thousands killed in the Philippines alone, millions more across Africa, Asia, and the Americas. They are written in the scholarship that links imperialism to genocide, repression, and mass atrocity across continents and centuries.
And yet, the temptation of empire persists. Great Powers still imagine that force can reshape the world to their liking. They still believe that conquest can be clean, that domination can be benevolent, that history can be defied.
But history is patient. And its verdict is clear.
Imperialism always fails.
The only question is how many lives will be lost before the lesson is learned again.
ThePeace of Westphaliaof 1648 stands as one of the most transformative milestones in the history of international relations. Emerging from the devastation of the Thirty Years’ War, which claimed millions of lives across Europe, the treaty redefined the way nations interacted and established principles that continue to shape global politics today.
Before thePeace of Westphalia, political authority was deeply intertwined with religious legitimacy. Empires and the Catholic Church often claimed supranational control, leading to endless conflicts over faith and power. The treaty broke from this tradition by affirming the sovereignty of individual states. Each nation gained the right to govern its territory without external interference, regardless of its religion or internal politics. This principle ofnational sovereigntyandnon-interferencebecame the cornerstone of the modern international system.
ThePeace of Westphaliaalso marked a shift from domination by brute force to cooperation through agreement. Nations recognized that stability could be achieved not only by military might but also by respecting boundaries and forging diplomatic consensus. This framework laid the foundation for centuries of European stability, enabling technological innovation, economic growth, and the eventual expansion of European influence across the globe.
Even today, the legacy of thePeace of Westphaliais evident. Modern institutions like the United Nations echo its principles, emphasizing respect for sovereignty and collective security. Violations of these norms—such as invasions without provocation—are condemned as breaches of the Westphalian order. From the wars of Hitler to the invasion of Ukraine, the rules established in 1648 remain central to global diplomacy.
Ultimately, thePeace of Westphaliawas more than a treaty; it was the birth of modern international relations. By pushing back anarchy and disorder, it created a system where nations could coexist, cooperate, and build a more stable world.
Mankind has long looked forward to a day when we might fulfill our every desire. In the 16th century, Thomas More’ Utopia pictured a society in which every person, regardless of station, was free to pursue happiness without obstruction. More envisioned a world where “Nobody owns anything, but everyone is rich – for what greater wealth can there be than cheerfulness, peace of mind, and freedom from anxiety?” In his imagined world social structures never hindered personal fulfillment. “Kindness and good nature,” he wrote, “unite men more effectually and with greater strength than any agreements whatsoever, since thereby the engagements of men’s hearts become stronger than the bond and obligation of words.” In such a world, the monsters of human nature would vanish and society would flourish.
At first glance, such a vision seems harmless – even noble. As I have mentioned in previous articles and Monday Morning Devotionals, the aim of philosophy is often to identify the surest path to happiness and fulfillment. And in many ways, our modern world resembles More’s dream. By historical standards, even the poor in modern industrialized societies live with comforts unimaginable in the 16th century. Though inequality persists, modern life has removed countless barriers between us and the fulfillment of our desires.
Our Modern Utopia
Technology has brought us closer than ever to a frictionless life. Groceries, clothing, and services arrive with a tap. Entertainment streams instantly into our hands. Social media connects us to strangers and friends alike, collapsing distance and time. And knowledge—true, false, or somewhere in between—is available on demand. We can curate our own truths, retreat into echo chambers, or wander into the wilderness of forbidden ideas whenever we choose.
This world has nurtured an ethos that elevates personal desire to the highest good. The philosophers of old have been replaced by self-help gurus and marketing strategists. Their slogans—crafted for an age of instant gratification—reduce life’s purpose to the pursuit of whatever we want in the moment.
Live your best life!
You do you!
Treat yourself!
You deserve it!
I did it my way!
Dangerous Desire
We are told that success requires the relentless pursuit of our desires. Motivational writer Napoleon Hill captured this ethos: “Desire is the starting point of all achievement, not a hope, not a wish, but a keen pulsating desire which transcends everything.”
Yet something has gone terribly wrong in our desire‑driven utopia. Rates of depression and anxiety have climbed. Escapism—whether through substances, entertainment, or even self‑harm—has surged. Our digital spaces overflow with anger and division. For all its comforts, the modern age is emotionally strained and spiritually impoverished.
Even as the ethos and glorification of our personal desires persist in popular culture, modern thinkers have challenged its very foundation. Albert Einstein noted, “A life directed chiefly toward the fulfillment of personal desires will sooner or later always lead to bitter disappointment.” Such sentiments do not align with the popular zeitgeist, nor do they sell products on social media or our favorite streaming show.
Scripture, however, speaks of desire with both hope and caution.
“For the wicked boasts of his heart’s desire;
He blesses the greedy and renounces the LORD.” —Psalms 10:3 (NKJV)
The word boasts here comes from the Hebrew halal, meaning “to celebrate,” “to make a show of,” or “to glory.” It evokes the same spirit behind our modern slogans—an entitlement that urges us to “treat yourself” without restraint.
Authorized Desire
God does not forbid desires. They are part of the beauty that makes us both human and distinct from one another. Yet there is an order and arrangement, a divinely authorized design, in which our desires must fit into our lives so that they enhance our lives rather than corrupt them.
Disordered desires eventually crush us. Some are blatantly destructive—sins so obvious they hardly need naming. They promise pleasure but leave behind guilt, regret, and brokenness. We know, or should know, to avoid them.
But other desires—wealth, status, achievement—appear harmless yet can be just as ruinous. We all know people, perhaps we have been those people, who chase a goal so relentlessly that everything else becomes collateral damage. Whether they reach the prize or not, the cost is often a trail of strained relationships and spiritual emptiness.
Whenever we hear of celebrities overdosing on drugs or of influential and eminent figures with children and families that are crumbling, I wonder whether they would trade what they gained for what they lost along the way. Do they even recognize the decision that took shape at some point in the privacy of their own souls: I will sacrifice this for that because that desire is the chief and most important thing of all.
God’s design for human flourishing includes desire—but desire rightly placed. Within the architecture of a faithful life, personal longings have a place, but they are not the pinnacle. That place belongs to obedience and surrender to God’s will.
“Delight yourself also in the LORD,
And He shall give you the desires of your heart.” —Psalms 37:4 (NKJV)
When God is supreme in our worldview, His values, preferences, and priorities cascade into our own decisions and objectives. This almost always leads to a realignment of our personal desires, usually placing them at a lower priority than they might have held before a personal confrontation with the priorities of God. What once felt urgent often settles into its proper place beneath the priorities of God.
This is the path Christ calls us to walk: to deny ourselves, take up the cross, and follow Him. In the ordinary moments of life, we reveal whom we truly worship—God or our own desires. And in choosing Him, our hearts finally find the desires that endure.
In today’s world of fake news, deep fakes, and endless bias, it’s harder than ever to know what’s true. Yet global events—from wars in Ukraine and Gaza to economic bailouts in Argentina—shape our daily lives, from grocery prices to retirement accounts. That’s why this new podcast series “How the World Works” is here: to cut through the noise and help listeners gain clarity by understanding international relations.
This 10-episode series offers a virtual curriculum that explores the rules, strategies, and philosophies nations use to navigate power, security, and prosperity. It’s not about partisan politics—it’s about learning the “language of Babylon,” the systems and theories that explain why nations act the way they do. Concepts like sovereignty, humanitarian intervention, regime change, and coalitions are unpacked so listeners can see the bigger picture behind the headlines.
What makes “How the World Works” unique is its integration of a Biblical worldview. Drawing inspiration from figures like the prophet Daniel, the series shows how faith and international relations intersect. Daniel thrived in chaotic times because he understood both God’s sovereignty and the world’s systems. Likewise, this podcast invites listeners to explore how divine principles align with global affairs, offering wisdom that transcends politics.
The first episodes are available publicly, while Patreon supporters gain access to exclusive content, quizzes, daily discussions, and the whole series. Whether you’re a student, a curious citizen, or someone seeking a deeper perspective, this series equips you to interpret global events with confidence and insight and a Kingdom worldview.
By the end of the journey, you won’t just know more about international relations—you’ll see the world differently, with a clearer understanding of both human systems and God’s hand in history.
