The talk of values is not new to German foreign policy-makers. But the Russian invasion on Ukraine seems to have finally led Germany to walk the walk. The last week has been both frenzied and path-breaking in German politics.
On 22 February, Germany’s Chancellor, Olaf Scholz—a Social Democrat from Hamburg—called for a halt to Nord Stream 2, in response to Russian President, Vladimir Putin’s, provocations in Eastern Ukraine. This was dramatic at several levels: Germany’s energy dependence on Russia had tended to make some politicians—including Scholz’s predecessor, Angela Merkel (a Christian Democrat)—wary of pulling the plug on the pipeline project. Scholz deserves even more credit for having made this break with Germany’s Russia policy in the context of party politics: The Social Democrats had come under critique in the past for being too soft on Russia (Russlandversteher).
Germany’s difficult past had led it to ban the export of weapons to conflict-zones; in keeping with this practice, the country had blocked Estonia from sending arms to Ukraine last month.
Since the outbreak of war in Ukraine on 24 February, Olaf Scholz has taken three further remarkable steps. First, after some hesitation, he has agreed to the inclusion of a ban on SWIFT transactions with Russia. This is a strong and costly signal to send to Russia as it will also have financial implications for Germany. Second, Germany’s difficult past had led it to ban the export of weapons to conflict-zones; in keeping with this practice, the country had blocked Estonia from sending arms to Ukraine last month. Olaf Scholz engineered an unprecedented shift. In a stirring speech at a special session of the German Parliament on 27 February, Scholz stated that Germany, by supporting Ukraine, will stand on the side of Europe, democracy, and the “the right side of history”. Amongst the concrete measures he outlined, sending military supplies to Ukraine was key: “Russian invasion marks a turning point. It is our duty to support Ukraine to the best of our ability in defending against Putin’s invading army”. Germany will now be supplying anti-tank weapons and Stinger missiles to Ukraine. And third, just as significant is Germany’s announcement to increase its NATO defence spending, thereby signaling the emergence of Germany as a security actor.
In a country where deliberative democracy is exalted (sometimes to a point where it amounts to being a strategy to doing nothing or muddling through), and the burden of history is high, the swift turn towards taking greater responsibility through action cannot be underestimated. Scholz’s leadership has been critical to this development, though he is undoubtedly helped by his coalition partners in the Green Party, who have come to power on a platform of principles and values. Germany’s proactive role is invigorating for us to observe, and is perhaps also serving as a catalyst for the European Union: Witness the unprecedented decision by the EU to purchase weapons for Ukraine.
One could still take issue with the timing of all this: It would have indeed been better to signal such resolve to Putin before his attack on Ukraine, thereby, deterring war in the first place. But at a time when Germany seems to be finally walking the walk of values, it is time to not look behind, but fare forward.
Germany’s proactive role is invigorating for us to observe, and is perhaps also serving as a catalyst for the European Union: Witness the unprecedented decision by the EU to purchase weapons for Ukraine.
It is clear that Scholz has understood the importance of hard power, in a way that his predecessors had not. As a dedicated European, he also knows that the Putin’s aggression towards Ukraine is a threat to European security as a whole. The question remains though, will he be able to extend his gaze to the global stage, and exercise much-needed leadership there? Putin is not the only authoritarian with grand designs in his neighbourhood; President Xi has been displaying similar adventurism towards Taiwan. The Ukraine crisis has brought these two players even closer, thus far. Will Scholz be the Chancellor to break out of the European platitudes of “partner, competitor, and rival” and finally call out China, just the way he has with Russia? As Mayor of Hamburg, Scholz was able to successfully attract Chinese investment to his city. As the Chancellor of Germany, he now has the onerous task of building a governance architecture that will secure the continent—and like-minded, democratic partners—from Chinese expansionism.
A decade ago, the Arab Spring levelled the divide — even if briefly — between the Palace and the Street. Powered by social media, the age of digital democracy was upon us. Technology has since become the mainstay of civic activism. Not only are more voices heard, but elected governments are also more responsive to them. And indeed, in many countries, more people are participating in politics than ever before. From attitudes and approaches of platforms and governments to the proliferation of intrusive technologies that invade personal spaces, the gains of the past decade are nevertheless being undermined. The past year or so has made us acutely aware of the weaknesses and threats to digital democracies. Some of these need a coordinated global response.
First, the very platforms that have fuelled calls for accountability often see themselves as above scrutiny, bound not by democratic norms but by bottom lines. The fact is acquisition metrics and market valuations don’t sustain democracy. The contradiction between short-term returns on investment and the long-term health of a digital society is stark. If hate, violence, and falsehoods drive engagement, and, therefore, profits for companies and platforms, our societies are indeed on shaky ground.
To make technology serve democracy, regulation will have to be completely rethought. Big Tech boardrooms must be held to standards of responsible behaviour that match their power to influence and persuade. Moreover, any accountability framework must be global. The global south lives with and depends on technology platforms designed in the north. These platforms have been visibly taken to task by lawmakers and institutions in the countries of their design. Does the larger cohort of users in the developing and emerging democratic world have recourse to such action? And is this denial tenable and fair?
Most democratic constitutions around the world, while protecting expression, do so with safeguards that are meant to secure peace and co-existence in societies that have histories longer and more storied than America’s.
Second, much of Big Tech is designed and anchored in the United States (US). Understandably, it pushes American — or perhaps Californian — free speech absolutism. This is in conflict with laws in most democracies — including in the US after January 6. Most democratic constitutions around the world, while protecting expression, do so with safeguards that are meant to secure peace and co-existence in societies that have histories longer and more storied than America’s.
This American approach to freedom of expression imposed on other democratic societies, at velocities facilitated by technology, is a formula for serious disorder. If American Big Tech wishes to emerge as Global Tech, it must adhere to global democratic norms. Its normative culture must assimilate and reconcile, not prescribe and mandate. In the absence of such an understanding, a clash is but inevitable. It must be emphasised that the fault line would be social norms, not the benefits of technology.
If global democracy and global tech are to coexist, the global south must sit at the high table when regulations are designed and as ethics are embedded in algorithms. Today, the global south’s participation in policy and design decisions that shape our tech future is like the map of vaccinations in our pandemic world — significantly underrepresented in democratic Africa and Asia.
Finally, the greatest danger to the freedom our democracies enjoy is from authoritarian regimes that exploit our liberties and turn them against us. In the real world, Peng Shuai is under house arrest. But in the virtual world, she is presented as being free and happy. Wolf warriors have given a whole new meaning to the phrase “virtual reality”. Recently, an Indian speaker at a transportation conference in China found her microphone turned off because she questioned the Belt and Road Initiative. We are in an unprecedented political landscape where authoritarians weaponise our debates even as we are silenced in theirs. Would any country allow another to open an embassy if it did not have reciprocal rights in the other capital?
The global south’s participation in policy and design decisions that shape our tech future is like the map of vaccinations in our pandemic world — significantly underrepresented in democratic Africa and Asia.
We are living in that perverse reality already. China’s media and government handles conduct aggressive diplomacy in our digital public sphere while we are denied the right to do so in theirs. Beijing and other authoritarian regimes are omnipresent in our digital lives. Their handles bombard us; their chosen narratives besiege and colour the truth. How can we prevent such regimes from gaming the public sphere, and from this perversion of institutions, academia, media, and tech platforms? Their presence on our platforms represents a systemic challenge and a security risk. It must be responded to.
The alleged disruption of America’s elections in 2016 will be child’s play as compared to what may happen in 2024. That year, India, the US and the European Union Parliament will all hold elections — the first such coincidence in the age of digital democracy. We face a perfect storm of misinformation and manipulation. Confronted by wolf warriors, the rest of us can’t be lambs to the slaughter. Open societies have always stoutly defended their borders. Now, they must safeguard these new digital frontlines. At the Summit for Democracy — called by President Joe Biden and addressed by, among others Prime Minister Narendra Modi, it was apparent to all that the democratic world needs to get its house in order. Even as democracies attend to this they need to ensure that other’s don’t burn the house down.
As the BRICS passes through a crucial milestone of its existence, celebrating 15 years of its formation, this report examines the initiatives launched since inception and makes recommendations for consolidating and streamlining the agenda.
The BRICS remains a prominent grouping in the global governance architecture due to the individual influence of each member-state and the collective size of their economies. The confidence in BRICS from within and the perceptions outside the grouping are shaped by its successes in institution-building and resource mobilisation. The highlight of BRICS’s success is its strong focus on issues of financial stability and global governance reforms, particularly in areas related to macroeconomic stability. These are supplemented by attention to sustainable development issues backed by finance and technology.
The BRICS agenda has witnessed a steady expansion of its scope ever since its inception. During the initial years, the agenda was focused on responding to the trans-Atlantic financial crisis with a special focus on multilateralism, particularly the need to reform the international monetary and financial architecture. Subsequently, the BRICS established the New Development Bank and the Contingent Reserve Arrangement, two flagship financial initiatives that remain the biggest success stories of the plurilateral to date. Notably, with the outbreak of Covid19 in 2020, there has been a special focus on responding to the pandemic and coordinating recovery.
Given the expanding scope, there is a need for consolidation and streamlining of the BRICS agenda. This will help address structural deficiencies and facilitate the smooth coordination for building consensus on key issues. To realise these goals, a thorough review of the BRICS cooperation mechanisms is necessary. This joint academic study presents an assessment of the various tracks under the BRICS framework, such that the grouping can better pursue the collective agenda of economic cooperation and sustainable development.
The year 2021 has been significant, with the Indian presidency underscoring ‘BRICS@15: Intra-BRICS Cooperation for Continuity, Consolidation and Consensus’ as the theme. The aspect of ‘consolidation’ received special attention. The Indian presidency also helped in concretising several action areas that had remained dormant. A case in point is the Agriculture Research Platform proposed by India at the 2015 Ufa Summit with a memorandum of understanding signed during the Indian presidency in 2016. This was launched in the virtual format in 2021, again during India’s presidency.
India’s presidency of BRICS in 2021 has set a definite example for streamlining of the BRICS agenda. As the agenda consolidates, future presidencies will find room for emerging themes that require urgent attention. Consolidation does not always only mean weeding out weaker sprouts, but to have comprehensive approaches towards setting common goals so that even relatively weaker initiatives can be scaled with resources. A preliminary assessment of the initiatives launched by BRICS is presented in this report.
As the price of natural gas reached record highs in the UK and Europe—trading at the equivalent of $200 per barrel of oil, and as economic activity in China has been curtailed by the country’s power supply crunch, central bankers and policymakers from across the globe are forced to confront significant challenges to price stability, with a focus on shielding households and businesses from an increase to the cost of transport and basic goods, while monitoring the potential for price pressure and supply chain bottlenecks to upend the global economic recovery. This is important at this time, for the ripple effects of disruptions to energy markets could amplify social and political fissures that are visible across the global landscape, and which might portend complex domestic politics as many countries head into elections in 2022.
Surging demand for natural gas—and shortages and bottlenecks to supply—have resulted in a corollary demand for oil products (referred to as gas-to-oil switching), thus driving up the price of WTI crude to seven-year highs. The skyrocketing commodity price environment has led one observer to point to the “revenge of the old economy”, according to which the collective noble efforts to move toward a cleaner, greener future fuelled by renewable energy have been stymied by a recent past of inadequate investment into the capacity and infrastructure of the hydrocarbons that power our economies.
Thus, even as COP26 has drawn to a close, and as policymakers, business leaders, and investors have left Glasgow with firm commitments to ostensibly advance the decarbonisation agenda, we are reminded of the extent to which our entire energy infrastructure still hinges upon the use of fossil fuels. This includes oil used for transport or power generation, or natural gas (or coal) for power generation, as well as natural gas deployed as “bridge fuel” to support the growth of renewable energy, including wind, solar, and hydrogen. This is effectively captured by what transpired in Germany earlier this year. In the first six months of 2021, the country increased its coal-based generation, which contributed 27 percent of the country’s electricity demand. The need to resort to coal-fired power generation is not unique to the case of Germany: the US has also posted the first annual increase in coal use for power generation since 2014. The combination of an asynchronous economic recovery, attendant shocks to demand, curtailments of supply, and surging prices in natural gas are contributing factors to rich income countries’ pivoting toward the use of coal. This illustrates one stark reality: hydrocarbons continue to underpin our global energy infrastructure. For all the talk of “stranded assets” and potential “dinosaurs of investment”, hydrocarbons still compose the lion’s share of energy consumption on a global basis.
What are the lessons to be learned from the recent power crunches? And what are the potential macro, socio-economic, and geopolitical implications as we navigate the energy transition? Amidst so much uncertainty and volatility, where are the opportunities for accord, as well as bright spots for investment?
Humility is also requisite as governments confront their energy interdependence with one another: again, despite record growth in renewable energy capacity, and surging climate financing, countries within the European Union are poignantly aware of their dependence upon natural gas imports—whether from Russia, Norway, or the US. And even despite its own domestic shale and conventional oil and gas production, the US continues to import hydrocarbons from countries such as Canada, Colombia, and Saudi Arabia. Similarly, even despite trade tensions, resource ties still bind China with Australia, with the latter having exported a record volume of natural gas to China in 2020. Thus, geopolitics remains at the very heart of the changing energy landscape. The inverse is also entirely true.
In the past, resource ties have been a source of tension; but, as we shall see, such bonds also have the potential to become a geopolitical salve, provided that the relationship is designed to be mutually beneficial to both parties. As we navigate the path toward net zero, and by seeking balance and diversification, our continued energy interdependence can actually spur opportunities for cooperation amongst policymakers, and for long-term investment and profit generation for enterprises and economies around the world.
The quest for resources to fuel industrial growth, military campaigns, and transport and urbanisation lies at the very heart of geopolitics. In considering the relationship between energy and geopolitics, the existence of resources is often associated with tension, be it in the form of border disputes, armed conflict, trade disputes resulting in embargoes, or interstate conflict or war. Access to strategic reserves of coal in Romania was a pivotal part of the campaign on the Western front during the Second World War. During the 1970s, energy-importing countries experienced the oil shocks related to the OPEC crises in the wake of the Arab-Israeli War, the Yom Kippur War, and the Iranian Revolution. Indeed, research shows that if a resource-rich country has an endowment of oil along its border with an “oil-less” country, then the probability of conflict between these two countries is higher than if there were no oil at all. Recent data also indicates that the presence of onshore oil might even portend a higher rate of conflict than the presence of offshore oil, as the potential for production and output to be seized by rebel groups is far higher on land than it is in deep-sea projects.
And yet, while asymmetric access to resources might spur tensions between countries, it can also be a geopolitical salve, by underpinning ties of trade, development, and civic diplomacy and even employment. Japan’s quest for resources to fuel its extraordinary manufacturing era from the 1960s onwards resulted in a mutual export of ODA (overseas development assistance) to southeast Asian countries such as Vietnam. One might also argue that Israel’s relatively recent discoveries of natural gas—and successive exports to Egypt—have also underpinned a normalisation of relations with Cairo, — a diplomatic rebalancing which has also been a key facet of improving relations between Israel and the UAE.
A crude awakening: our enduring energy interdependence, and continued reliance upon fossil fuels
Such positive examples of resource ties are swiftly forgotten in times of crises. The underlying conditions that led to positive benefits to the political relationship in these two instances are also ignored. And so it is with the present power crunches ricocheting across the globe. With the asynchronous reopenings of economies in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic—and amidst ongoing disruptions to supply (be it from underinvestment in hydrocarbons, weather-related events such as flooding, pandemic-induced stoppages to production, or port congestion)— we are reminded not only the extent to which our economies depend upon fossil fuels for power generation and for transport, but also, of the extent to which many countries remain deeply interlinked in patterns of energy interdependence.
The European dilemma regarding natural gas supply from the Russian Federation is instructive, but it must also be recognised that energy interdependence cuts both ways. As long as Russian gas is a competitive source for energy, then energy-hungry European manufacturing powers will need to engage with the leadership in Moscow; equally, as long as Europe has access to alternative sources of fossil fuels – even if not as cheap – Russia will need to retain an understanding of European red lines. This is what interdependence means. This insight is equally applicable to the energy interconnections of the future: China can be a useful partner in the energy transition, even if it is not the only one.
Indeed, for some policymakers, part of the allure of developing domestic renewable energy capacity was that it ostensibly would lead toward more enhanced energy independence. Ostensibly, extraordinary efforts in diplomacy might not be needed in such a green future, as countries would, in theory, no longer be reliant upon conflict-ridden territories to secure energy supply. Even in a net-zero future, this is perhaps to view the world through rose-coloured glasses: for the development of wind, solar, and hydrogen energy—or indeed techniques of greater energy efficiency—at an affordable cost is intrinsically related with garnering supplies, inputs, R&D, and human capital from different jurisdictions. Overly halcyon scenario-planning for domestic renewable energy capacity development often fails to incorporate these facts.
The shift from fossil fuel-based to renewable energy capacity does not end interdependence; it merely pushes interdependence to a different part of the energy mix. The dependence now shifts from hydrocarbons to metals and from ores to rare earths. Countries in Africa, Asia, Americas and Australia are likely to emerge as global mineral hubs, and the routes to ship these new commodities might pave new geostrategic highways.
In recent years, control over the production of rare earths has become a familiar site for geopolitical tension. In 2021, the Biden administration in the United States ordered a review of the country’s critical mineral supply chain; the recommendations included prioritising development financing for “international investments in projects that will increase production capacity for critical products, including critical minerals”. The administration’s concern is readily understandable, as shown in Table 1.
Table 1: China’s share in the rare earths supply chain
*Disaggregated data for neodymium was not available; the data for Rare Earth Concentrates (REO) has been used since neodymium is a rare earth metal.
Yet it is not just production of rare earths that will be relevant, but also the locations of their processing and other forms of value addition. These might emerge as the equivalent of present-day refineries and petroleum complexes, and their distribution potential linked to key consumption centres might lead to the birth of new geostrategic lynchpins such as the Straits of Malacca and of Hormuz. The notion that domestic renewable energy production would free countries from the intricacies of dependence is misguided – and a seminal mistake if it was to be the basis of new energy order.
Sunset on Malthus?
Part of the reason why the aspiration of energy independence retains its sheen is that our energy economics and policymaking continues to be suffused with a Malthusian legacy. Said another way, the spectre of scarcity continues to inform the way we think about energy and resources. The fear that “there will never be enough” renders misgivings about dependence—or else outright denial. A sense of energy insecurity –no matter how much it is brushed under the rug might also prompt a premature and imprudent vaunt into a disorderly energy transition, with a disproportionate focus on bolstering capacity at home. Such a policy would have little regard for the fact that climate change has been branded as humanity’s largest negative externality: in order to mitigate the situation, global actions ought to be in concert. Humility is thus needed not only in recognising the endurance of hydrocarbons within the energy mix, but also, but it is also implicit in our interconnectedness as we navigate the green transition. For the rich income countries, part of this humility also requires understanding the various ways in which the energy transition has the potential to deepen the chasm between the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots’.
The haves and the have-nots: is the energy transition deepening the chasm?
The energy transition has the potential to create a deeper chasm between the standings of the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots’ in the global macroeconomic environment. First, if we consider the traditional trajectory of industrial growth—that is, from agrarian activity to textile production, and then from heavy industry to light manufacturing, eventually segueing to services-oriented economies—the case can be made that for developing countries earlier on the maturity curve (such as Vietnam and India), stringent measures toward decarbonisation might actually thwart what would otherwise unfold as a full evolution of robust domestic industry. For the ‘price takers’ and for commodity-hungry countries, this might take the shape of premature restrictions on access to or use of resources to fuel domestic manufacturing activity.
And for the ‘price makers’—that is, commodity-rich exporting countries—the case can also be made that swift or unrealistic moves toward decarbonisation might rob oil and gas exporters from a significant base of output as well as a source of gross national income. In a country in which resource wealth underpins GDP, export activity, employment (both directly related to exploration, extraction and production of natural resources, as well as indirectly, via civil service salaries), national income, and sovereign and pension funds, the potential for social fissures to either manifest or to be exacerbated is clear.
It should be noted that history indicates that access or proximity to natural resources is not perfectly correlated with a trajectory of sustainable economic growth—hence the “Dutch resource curse”. Research from Brazil also indicates that oil endowments within a province or a municipality do not necessarily result in improved livelihoods for members of that community. Indeed, even in a lofty commodity price environment, such as at present, windfalls potentially reaped from higher export prices of oil and gas do not always translate into higher incomes for households within the exporting country.
This tension between environmental and the development agendas within emerging markets and developed economies (EMDEs) is also evident in the debate surrounding the potential carbon border adjustment tax (CBAT), as well as recent agreements on deforestation in COP26.
Home game: mitigating the domestic bias of climate finance
An effective, secure energy transition is currently undermined by the “domestic preference” evident within the realm of climate finance. In recent years of tracking climate finance flows, data from one leading industry body evidences that 76 percent of capital is invested in the same country in which it is sourced. Thus, despite various commitments and guarantees from bodies such as the G7 or the G20, a significant challenge remains regarding the ability for much-needed climate finance to cross borders. Certainly, a long-running trend of a domestic bias for investment is not limited to climate and infrastructure investments. Rather, it extends across sectors and asset classes, including real estate, energy, private equity, and venture capital. Whilst managing ‘sticky capital’ and the prospect of generating long-term returns, and building up enterprise and asset values, investors might harbor an inclination to place their money close to home—in other words, “where home-country risks are well-understood.”
As these authors have highlighted previously, playing close to home in infrastructure investing may not always be the least risky option. And yet, we have already motioned that the dawning age of renewables is not one of energy independence, but of a new kind of interdependence. Policymakers operating under the illusion of energy sovereignty are otherwise missing out on the opportunity to cultivate positive structures of interdependence which could potentially support their own geo-strategic aims – such links, might, in turn, spur opportunities for private investment.
Thus, we might witness a shift in incentivisation for private finance and the climate problem: such that sticky capital not only supplies the domestic market, but that it is directed outwards as well, perhaps even towards the geographies where host countries of finance might find mutually beneficial resource ties – such as the model of Japan and ODA in Southeast Asia, discussed earlier. As argued above, interdependence can be a salve for geopolitics as long as both sides gain in the energy or in the development equation. Such a value exchange – or what Michael Oakeshott refers to as an “enterprise association” – rests upon an understanding of interdependence – again, something that has been jettisoned in the lack of humility in the energy transition (something which is mirrored in the “domestic bias” of climate capital).
Such misconceptions have the potential to divert policymakers from a future of true sustainability, which involves the creation of resilience through diversification. Redirecting long-term flows of investment—including private capital—towards emerging market/developing economies will not necessarily be easy. Large sources of private capital in the global north – whether institutional capital or banks – will need a fresh set of incentives to invest in the energy supply chains of the future.
Moreover, recognising that these investments will likely be in new minerals, new processes, and new geographies, it is clear that old regulatory risk models may no longer be suitable. New market mechanisms to help enable a level playing field of investment in new energy materials are needed—which might take inspiration from the industry bodies which have developed over time in support of oil markets around the globe.
Conclusion: The Green Marshall Plan
The scale of the rebalancing required – of investment, attention, and financial flows – is vast. If anything, it should be compared to the Marshall Plan. That enormous effort, after all, had both pragmatic and idealistic motivations. On the one hand, it was necessary to assist a Europe devastated by war; on the other, it was essential that a liberal community be built that was strong and resilient in the face of the Soviet challenge. There are similar overlaps today between the realist search for security and the idealist requirements of climate action. A Green Marshall Plan has the potential to both stabilise international relations and create the diversification and resilience necessary to allow for durable interdependence during the energy transition.
For the energy transition to act as a geopolitical salve rather than as a source of discord, a Green Marshall Plan must have four characteristics.
First, it should be genuinely global in character. A global net-zero approach would understand that some regions might take longer on the fossil fuel transition because of the specifics of their development or their energy landscape. Nor should geographical factors be ignored: An archipelago like Indonesia will take longer to transition to solar energy and away from natural gas than a continental country.
Second, legacy energy infrastructure will need attention to help enable the success of the Green Marshall Plan, to make it implementable, and to scale it. As is evident in energy consumption patterns across the globe, fossil fuels remain a part of the energy mix, and a way of working toward a balanced and global green transition. Nor can sectors like mining be ignored: the Green Marshall Plan will likely have to go into a “dirty” sector, invest in new ways of mining and new materials to mine.
Third, the Green Marshall Plan is not just about blue-sky research into the possibilities of the future. It is about increasing investment in nuts-and-bolts manufacturing in underserved geographies as well – whether energy efficiency in the Asian steel producers of the future or new cobalt mining technologies in sub-Saharan Africa today. It is about enabling development of critical frontier technologies, as well as swiftly and sustainably spreading a green ‘know-how’ which is globally benchmarked.
And fourth, the Green Marshall Plan should embed energy resilience at its heart. Areas which have sped up their energy transition are those where it is seen as assisting in energy security. As these authors argued, dependence on a single source or vendor is antithetical to achieving long-term and sustainable energy security. As such, the strategic mapping of a secure energy future cannot exclude a China, with its strong presence in the rare earths supply chain, or a Russia with reserves of natural gas, or the countries of the Gulf, abundant in oil and gas reserves. Again, humility as well as diversification might render each actor a more responsible and empathetic participant in the global energy transition.
What we are recommending is an all-inclusive future. That will require the leaders of key nations to invest political capital in a new institutional framework that supports the energy landscape of the future. The International Energy Agency, OPEC, commodity exchanges and others defined and shaped the hydrocarbon world. The global energy transition requires new frameworks, organisations and political arrangements to underwrite our common journey ahead, which reflect the needs of multiple stakeholders, in both the private and public spheres. The G7’s B3W, the European Union’s Global Gateway, and the Indo-French International Solar Alliance all point to one imperative: of green arrangements underwriting green transitions. The world needs a new institutional structure: one that keeps the lights on in the 21st century.
The “war on terror”, launched two decades ago, epitomised the peak of America’s unipolar moment. The jets crashing into the twin towers were seen by most as an attack on the soul of globalisation, a project promoted and designed by the United States (US) and its partners in Europe. The near-universal commitment to this war, within the P-5 and outside, was a demonstration of America’s real power. That was a different time and a different world.
Since then, the US has been implicated in the global financial crisis of 2008. Its flawed domestic landscape and divided democracy have been a public spectacle for global audiences since 2016, from the swearing-in of President Donald Trump to that of President Joe Biden. Both individuals were and are legitimate leaders for only half their nation. America’s botched and self-serving response to the Covid-19 pandemic only hastened the decline of its ethical and moral positioning. Hot on the trail of these events, the hasty and bungled exit from Afghanistan is not just a political event, but part of a continuum, one that points to the momentous unravelling of Pax Americana.
The jets crashing into the twin towers were seen by most as an attack on the soul of globalisation, a project promoted and designed by the United States (US) and its partners in Europe.
It is not the US’s material power alone that has suffered; the institutions undergirding the liberal order are on shaky ground as well. The partisanship of its media and academia are visible to all. It is a nation where trolling as a way of life has replaced a broad national consensus. Morally tinged lectures about the international liberal order are likely to fall on deaf ears for those who witnessed the West’s callous indifference to billions in the developing world still in need of vaccines, or towards the thousands of Afghan interpreters who risked their lives to fight America’s war.
Those watching from capitals in Asia, gearing up for a new era of conflict and competition in the Indo-Pacific, will be even more sceptical. Some among them will be the first victims of the Taliban’s willingness to shelter and nurture terrorist groups. More importantly, the fall of Kabul will serve as a dire reminder of the fate that may befall them if they get mired in great power competition.
For instance, if one lived in Japan, going nuclear may be a sensible option. If you were a resident of an Association of Southeast Asian Nations (Asean) country, your neighbourhood bully would seem a more predictable and acceptable proposition. No spin can change this. America today is less attractive to many. This is a heavily mediated exit from a partnership and the damage is far greater than any of its other follies.
As these geographies rediscover one another, everything in between becomes a shared problem; refugee surges from countries mired in civil conflict, the climate crisis, and flows of finance, infrastructure and technology.
One could even argue that the US’s Indo-Pacific project has already faced its first significant setback. The idea that the US will now focus on China with greater intensity is naïve and suggests a poor understanding of politics. Land frontiers still matter and the US has ceded South and South-West Asia to Beijing. Chinese State media have lampooned and mocked the US’s withdrawal all week.
What role China will eventually play in Afghanistan is uncertain, but it has plans to fill the void that exists. The Chinese model is different and is based on the extraction of value from resources in the host country and providing lucre to the rulers who facilitate this. Tribes and feudal societies tend to work with this model better than the alternatives that seek to turn them into liberal nations and free markets. In the short term at least, China could well emerge as a powerful shaper of the economic and military arrangements in Af-Pak and West Asia.
This episode will have repercussions for the Quad, an ostensibly “counter-China” alliance in the Indo-Pacific. It is time to face up to some home truths.
First, for too long, policymakers in DC have relied on maps that mark the East Indian Ocean as the Indo-Pacific boundary. India’s perspective on Afghanistan, Pakistan, and West Asia has been dismissed time and again. This must change, or India will work with other arrangements to manage the threats that abound. The US must realise that dealing with the influence of China in Afghanistan and Pakistan are a core Indo-Pacific challenge. Ceding these to China defeats the Western Pacific project as well.
Countries have learnt to assess the US by what it does, not by what it says. Efforts to shape and design regions to suit their own narrow interests are likely to be resisted.
Second, even as DC learns to re-imagine the expanse of the Indo-Pacific, it must internalise that Europe and Asia are merging through the efforts of Beijing. As these geographies rediscover one another, everything in between becomes a shared problem; refugee surges from countries mired in civil conflict, the climate crisis, and flows of finance, infrastructure and technology. The US cannot afford to ignore this region if it is to remain relevant at the end of the 2020s.
Third, India will continue to assess the US as its most important partner. A declining superpower is easier to do business with. The Countering America’s Adversaries Through Sanctions Act (CATSAA) sanctions and sermons on “values” could be shrugged off more quickly. Countries have learnt to assess the US by what it does, not by what it says. Efforts to shape and design regions to suit their own narrow interests are likely to be resisted. Its reliability and trustworthiness will be measured as per its capacity to contain China’s rise without disrupting the determination of states in the region to seek growth and development on their own terms. A transactional America will now encounter transactional friends.
The scramble for gold on the Internet has transferred control of vast swathes of cyberspace to a very small and select group: Big Tech. This has made ‘significant social media intermediaries’ highly profitable ad businesses that have grown amid non-existent privacy and weak intermediary liability laws. They make the market, grow the market, and shape market rules. No ad business, or any business in history—not even Big Oil or Big Tobacco—has held so much power over consumers and the economy. This perverse power is, perhaps, the single biggest challenge that nations and peoples will have to grapple with. Accountable Tech must be India’s leitmotif in 2023 as it presides over the G-20, and a robust digital republic its sovereign mission as its turns 75 next year. This will need sensible politics, sophisticated policies, and a return to first principles.
Concentration of wealth is a competition issue and an economic policy question. Left unregulated, it brings about inequality in income and opportunity. But concentration of power when it comes to discourse—what is promoted, shared or suppressed—should be more worrying. Safe-harbour provisions in the United States along with self-regulation principles have allowed Big Tech to cherry pick what is to be acted on and what is to be ignored, effectively making it the arbiter of permissible speech. For example, anti-vaccine Twitter users have thrived during the pandemic, while, sometimes, less dangerous actors have had their posts labelled. In January, Angela Merkel, Chancellor of Germany, denounced the de-platforming of then US President Donald Trump by Twitter. “The right to freedom of opinion is of fundamental importance,” Merkel’s Chief Spokesperson, Steffen Seibert said, “Given that, the Chancellor considers it problematic that the President’s accounts have been permanently suspended.”
The issue here is not whether Merkel agreed or disagreed with Trump’s tweets. The question is—who censors him, how, and with what process and level of transparency? For the Chancellor and for many, Twitter cannot choose for itself when it seeks to be a provider of public goods, and when it is a private messenger eligible for intermediary protections. When governments around the world describe digital connectivity as a ‘utility’, information lines cannot be disrupted by religious, cultural or ideological filters. Like water, electricity and roads, significant social media will have to serve all, even those its management and owners disapprove of.
[Platforms] cannot choose for [themselves] when they seek to be a provider of public goods, and when they are a private messenger eligible for intermediary protections.
The instances when utilities (say electricity and water) are denied or disconnected are specific, rare and regulated. Even in the information age, only the state and its three pillars have this right. Global Big Tech is not part of this constitutional arrangement. There are checks and balances in place, with legal recourse available for all within the state and for external actors as well. Any alternative to this constitutional setup would be akin to legitimising foreign influence operations in domestic affairs. In an extreme, for a country that is almost perpetually in election mode, it would be tantamount to election interference. This may seem like hyperbole, but it is closer to the truth than we suspect. For instance, if an electoral candidate makes an incendiary speech on a physical stage, the Election Commission, law enforcement agencies and the judiciary act against him—not the private company that has set up the stage or the power utility that has provided an electricity connection to the mike. Is the online equivalent being honoured by Big Tech?
Regulation of Big Tech across democratic setups
Australia gets this. In February, it passed the News Media Bargaining Code. The code encourages intermediary tech firms to negotiate deals with media outlets, effectively mandating that Facebook and Google pay news firms for content. The law was passed after a protracted battle between the Australian government and social media firms. It escalated when Facebook removed content of certain Australian news agencies, several official government handles, emergency services, and civil society organisations from its platform. Prime Minister Scott Morrison held firm: “These actions will only confirm the concerns … about the behaviour of Big Tech companies who think they are bigger than governments and that the rules should not apply to them.”
Canada, too, is making moves to curtail the wealth and discourse monopoly currently enjoyed by Big Tech. Just this week, Canadian lawmakers passed Bill C-10, which seeks to regulate the kind of content media streaming services prioritise on their platforms. The Bill, which is yet to be passed by the Senate, aims to make digital streaming platforms at par with traditional broadcasting services; the latter are obligated to increase the visibility and “discoverability” of Canadian content, and to set aside part of their profits to support a fund that promotes original Canadian productions.
Across the pond from the Americas, the European Union is also actively working towards mitigating the risks posed by the monopoly of Big Tech. Margrethe Vestager, Vice President of the European Commission for A Europe Fit for the Digital Age, has stated that tech giants, “have the power to guide our political debates, and to protect—or undermine—our democracy.” In December 2020, Vestager and her office tabled the Digital Services Act (DSA), which seeks a systemic assessment of the varied social, economic and constitutional risks posed by the services provided by Big Tech.
The most decisive move yet has come from Poland, which has proposed a law to ‘limit’ the censorship tendencies of the tech giants. Soon after the deplatforming of Donald Trump by Twitter, Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki wrote on Facebook: “Algorithms or the owners of corporate giants should not decide which views are right and which are not. There can be no consent to censorship.” The new proposed law provides for a special mechanism for those whose content or profiles have been blocked/deleted by social media platforms, where they can complain directly to the platform, which is obligated to respond within 24 hours. After a review by a specially constituted “Freedom of Speech Council”, deleted content can be restored by order. If platforms do not comply, they can face a heavy fine of up to 50 million zloty (US $ 13.4 million).
Regulatory Frameworks in India
India, too, must take some tough calls. The vision of Digital India has advanced—from only four unicorn companies in 2014, India had 12 in just 2020 alone. Regulation must keep pace with this economic and social reality. It is absolutely critical that the Privacy and Data Protection (PDP) Bill, currently being examined by a Parliamentary Joint Committee be brought forth and enacted as law. Without the umbrella framework of the PDP bill, India’s regulation of Big Tech will be ad hoc, and may be misconstrued as a political instrument.
The vision of Digital India has advanced—from only four unicorn companies in 2014, India had 12 in just 2020 alone. Regulation must keep pace with this economic and social reality.
With respect to regulating intermediaries, the Indian government initiated a public consultation process in December 2018 and invited submissions from the public to the Ministry of Electronics and Information Technology. A spectrum of civic, industry and academic actors participated. The rules were notified in February 2021, specifying clear compliance requirements within three months. Yet, the reaction of Big Tech platforms has been to delay, stall and obfuscate compliance.
It is high time that the actions of these companies were subject to systematic and rigorous Parliamentary oversight; but for that to happen, legislation is needed. Indian law and policy are rooted in our Constitutional principles. Indian policies on digital governance are no different, but they now need the imprimatur of Parliament to truly be effective. And should there be questions and grievances regarding the scope and constitutionality of the law, the courts of India will be the ultimate judge.
The objective of regulatory frameworks is to safeguard public interest, even (or perhaps especially) if it involves eroding the bottomlines of powerful vested interests. To once again quote the EU Commission’s Magrethe Vestager (in an intervention at a technology policy panel at the Raisina Dialogue earlier this year), regulating Big Tech, “Is a job, not a popularity contest”.
Perhaps, the real limitation is one of our imagination. In our minds, Silicon Valley is forever a happy, sunshine place, led by geeky, long-haired wunderkinds in t-shirts and flip-flops. The reality is Big Tech’s instincts today are driven by a single-minded sense of territoriality and collective impatience for different governance systems. For them, their ‘code is law’ and it is universal. That is at the crux of it.
Raisina Files 2021 aims to engage with the leitmotifs of this past pandemic year, mirroring the theme of the Raisina Dialogue 2021, “#ViralWorld: Outbreaks, Outliers and Out of Control”. Within this overarching theme, we have identified five pillars and areas of discussion to critically engage with—WHOse Multilateralism? Reconstructing the UN and Beyond; Securing and Diversifying Supply Chains; Global ‘Public Bads’: Holding Actors and Nations to Account; Infodemic: Navigating a ‘No-Truth’ World in the Age of Big Brother; and, finally, the Green Stimulus: Investing in Gender, Growth and Development. Together, these five pillars of the Raisina Dialogue capture the multitude of conversations and anxieties countries are engaging and grappling with.
Raisina Files is an annual ORF publication that brings together emerging and established voices in a collection of essays on key, contemporary questions that are implicating the world and India.
In this volume
Editors: Samir Saran, Preeti Lourdes John
Emerging Narratives and the Future of Multilateralism | Amrita Narlikar
Diplomacy in a Divided World | Melissa Conley Tyler
Is A Cold War 2.0 Inevitable? | Velina Tchakarova
Trust But Verify: A Narrative Analysis Of “Trusted” Tech Supply Chains | Trisha Ray
Can The World Collaborate Amid Vaccine Nationalism | Shamika Ravi
A Nuclear Insecurity: How Can We Tame The Proliferators | Rajeswari Pillai Rajagopalan
De Facto Shared Sovereignty And The Rise Of Non-State Statecraft: Imperatives For Nation-States | Lydia Kostopoulus
Digital Biases: The Chimera Of Equality And Access | Nanjira Sambuli
The Infodemic: Regulating The New Public Square | Kara Frederick
How Finance Can Deliver Real Environmental And Climate Impact | Geraldine Ang
Unlocking Capital For Climate Response In The Emerging World | Kanika Chawla
Putting Women Front And Centre Of India’s Green Recovery Process | Shloka Nath, Isha Chawla, Shailja Mehta
Investing In Material Innovation Is Investing In India’s Future | Nisha Holla