Between Unipolarity and Multipolar Reality: A New Era of Strategic Competition

The end of the Cold War heralded what many believed to be the triumph of the liberal order—an era defined by Western dominance, with the United States at the zenith of a unipolar system. From Washington, the world seemed to pivot around a singular axis of power, reinforced through expansive military alliances, embedded within global economic institutions, and legitimised by the widespread diffusion of liberal democratic norms. This unprecedented concentration of power, often romanticised as the “unipolar moment,” was envisioned as a stabilising force. Yet, as the second quarter of the 21st century unfolds, it becomes increasingly evident that this order is not only contested but gradually disintegrating. The catalyst? The strategic and economic assertiveness of a resurgent China.

Through initiatives like the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), Beijing has recalibrated the global balance of power by weaving together a new network of dependencies and aspirations. This reconfiguration is not simply about shifting alliances or competing infrastructure—it is about the redefinition of global governance, legitimacy, and influence. The erosion of Western hegemony, compounded by America’s own inward turn under Donald Trump’s two presidencies, has birthed a multipolar landscape. In this emergent order, Western dominance is neither unchallenged nor obsolete—but it is certainly no longer hegemonic in the absolute sense.

The dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991 left the United States as the unrivalled superpower in a suddenly unipolar world. With Russia diminished and China not yet assertive, Washington moved swiftly to entrench its dominance through a dual-pronged strategy: expanding its military reach while institutionalising economic liberalism. NATO’s expansion into Eastern Europe was emblematic of this process. Countries once tethered to the Soviet orbit—Poland, Hungary, the Czech Republic, and eventually the Baltic states—were welcomed into the Western security umbrella, thereby projecting American military deterrence deep into the Eurasian landmass.

Simultaneously, the post-war Bretton Woods institutions were revitalised to promote a rules-based economic system grounded in liberal principles. The World Trade Organization (WTO), International Monetary Fund (IMF), and World Bank became instruments through which markets were opened, capital liberalised, and governance norms harmonised with Western ideals. But while the United States cemented its dominance, China was taking a different path—one marked not by confrontation, but by calculated consolidation. Under the pragmatic stewardship of Deng Xiaoping, China avoided overt geopolitical assertions, choosing instead to stabilise its domestic front, grow its economy, and accumulate financial reserves. By the early 2000s, Beijing had joined the WTO and embraced an export-driven development model. Its growing economic stature laid the groundwork for a broader vision: the Belt and Road Initiative under Xi Jinping.

The BRI is not merely an infrastructure campaign; it is a blueprint for strategic entanglement. It offers an alternative mode of global engagement—one that bypasses the governance conditions and liberal reform requirements of the West. Its bilateral approach to project financing, its disregard for internal political structures, and its tailored responses to local development needs have made it particularly appealing to nations weary of Western paternalism.

The ideological contrast between the Western-led order and China’s emerging model reveals a fundamental divergence. The West’s hegemonic toolkit combined military alliances, economic globalisation, and normative proselytisation. Security came with NATO guarantees, economic aid with institutional reform, and influence with the promise of democratic dividends. China, on the other hand, advanced a different proposition: development without strings, investment without oversight, and partnership without interference. The principles underpinning its foreign engagements—sovereign equality, non-interference, and pragmatism—resonate with many states who view the Western order as overbearing, if not hypocritical. Beijing’s institutional alternatives—from the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB) to the Digital Silk Road—run parallel to Western bodies, subtly but persistently eroding their centrality.

In essence, the world is now faced with two competing models of global order. One founded on liberal internationalism, with its expansive rulebooks and prescriptive norms; the other built on transactional relationships and developmental pragmatism. Neither model is universally accepted, but both are increasingly seen as viable, even complementary, depending on geopolitical context and developmental need.

If the 1990s and early 2000s marked the height of American-led hegemony, then Donald Trump’s presidency signalled its deliberate retrenchment. His administration not only questioned long-standing alliances but actively undermined them. By calling into question NATO’s relevance and coercing allies to meet the 2% GDP defence spending target, Trump sent a message that American protection was no longer guaranteed—it had to be earned, or worse, purchased.

His scepticism wasn’t limited to transatlantic partners. In the Asia-Pacific, longstanding allies such as Japan and South Korea were publicly pressed to pay more for hosting US troops. Trump’s withdrawal from the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) represented a stark abandonment of America’s economic leadership in the region, leaving a vacuum that China was more than willing to fill through RCEP and bilateral agreements.

The first Trump presidency also marked a withdrawal from multilateral engagement more broadly. Washington’s exits from the Paris Agreement and UNESCO, along with threats to abandon the World Health Organization, signified a retreat from the moral and institutional leadership that had long underpinned the liberal order.

With Trump’s reelection in 2024 and the commencement of his second term in January 2025, this trajectory only intensified. Executive Order 14162 marked the United States’ second withdrawal from the Paris Agreement, drawing sharp rebukes from environmentalists and world leaders alike. Trump doubled down on conditional alliances, making clear that security guarantees would now hinge on financial contributions, rather than shared values or historical commitments. NATO, once the crown jewel of transatlantic unity, found itself navigating internal fractures and existential questions.

While the United States wrestled with its internal contradictions, China continued its patient but persistent ascent. The BRI expanded into Central Asia, Africa, Southeast Asia, and even parts of Europe, creating an expansive network of ports, roads, railways, and digital corridors. The China–Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) became a flagship initiative, transforming Islamabad’s economic orientation while granting Beijing a strategic foothold near the Arabian Sea.

In Southeast Asia, despite American freedom-of-navigation operations, China’s growing economic leverage proved decisive. Without a robust trade framework to compete with BRI, ASEAN states increasingly hedged their bets, entertaining Chinese overtures while keeping the West at arm’s length. Europe, too, saw fissures. Countries like Italy and Portugal defied EU orthodoxy by joining the BRI framework, prioritising economic pragmatism over geopolitical loyalty.

China’s approach also adapted. Early criticisms—particularly over debt traps, environmental negligence, and lack of transparency—were met with partial reforms. Debt rescheduling, environmental safeguards, and more localised partnerships helped Beijing refine its model. In contrast, Western responses often appeared reactive and fragmented. Initiatives like the Blue Dot Network, the Indo-Pacific Economic Framework, and the EU’s Global Gateway aimed to reassert high-quality standards—but often struggled to match China’s scale or speed.

The global stage is no longer defined by a binary contest of dominance. Rather, it is characterised by a kaleidoscope of actors, interests, and alignments. Nations today are less inclined to choose sides and more likely to pursue tailored partnerships. India collaborates with the US on defence while joining China in BRICS. The EU criticises China’s human rights record but seeks trade deals that reduce dependency on the United States. Africa welcomes both Chinese infrastructure and Western aid, often in parallel. This fluidity is not disorder; it is multipolar complexity. Institutions like the United Nations, G20, and WTO are now arenas of contestation rather than consensus. China’s voting blocs grow stronger in UN bodies. The AIIB challenges World Bank primacy in development finance. Chinese tech firms, through 5G and AI initiatives, set global standards that rival Silicon Valley’s dominance.

The techno-economic frontier—ranging from cyber infrastructure to artificial intelligence—is emerging as the new theatre of rivalry. Control over digital ecosystems, data sovereignty, and AI governance is increasingly central to national security strategies. In this space, China's Digital Silk Road offers a model that is faster, state-led, and often devoid of democratic oversight, while the West struggles to present a unified front.

Faced with this changing geopolitical tapestry, both the West and China must recalibrate. For Western democracies, the challenge lies in crafting alliances that are not only militarily agile but economically compelling. Multilateral frameworks must evolve to integrate emerging partners, adapt to regional diversity, and respond to global crises—from climate change to pandemics—with credibility and coordination.

For China, the test is sustainability and perception. Infrastructure-led diplomacy must now be matched by transparency, environmental stewardship, and sensitivity to local contexts. If Beijing is to become a long-term partner rather than a convenient benefactor, it must evolve from a financier to a genuinely collaborative power. The role of middle powers—India, the EU, Brazil, Indonesia—will be vital in shaping a third way. These actors can mediate between polarising tendencies, craft hybrid models, and safeguard the multilateral space from becoming a zero-sum battleground. Regional organisations—ASEAN, the African Union, Mercosur—can also champion context-driven development, integrating foreign engagement with local governance.

The age of hegemonic clarity is over. What lies ahead is an era marked by pluralism, not polarity. China’s rise has fractured the illusion of a singular global order, revealing a world in which economic power does not automatically translate into normative authority, and where influence must be earned through relevance rather than assumed through legacy.

American retrenchment under Trump did not just weaken the liberal order—it exposed its dependence on leadership that is no longer guaranteed. As a result, the world now navigates a hybrid order where competing models co-exist, interact, and, at times, contradict each other.

The task for global policymakers is not to restore unipolarity, but to embrace the new normal of negotiated coexistence. The path forward demands coalitions that are principled yet flexible, partnerships that honour sovereignty without sacrificing accountability, and institutions that reflect the diversity of 21st-century power.

If the great project of global peace and prosperity is to endure, it must be reimagined not as a victory of one model over another, but as a fusion of ideas and interests shaped by mutual respect, shared values, and collective resilience. Only then can we hope to build a stable, inclusive, and enduring international order.