International Relations 101: Power, Anarchy, and Competing Worldviews

Anyone who wants to understand and discuss international politics should have at least a cursory grasp of the fundamental concepts that drive global affairs. Whether debating the causes of war, analyzing trade policies, or making sense of shifting alliances, knowledge of the underlying frameworks that shape international relations is essential. This article is designed to provide exactly that: a comprehensive yet accessible introduction to the key ideas that define how nations interact. From the power struggles of realism to the cooperative ideals of liberalism, from the identity-driven perspectives of constructivism to the economic critiques of Marxist theory, this guide will equip you with the essential tools to think critically about the world stage. No matter your background, if you’ve ever wondered why wars happen, why some countries seem to dominate others, or whether world peace is even possible, this is the primer for you. Let’s dive in.

International Anarchy: The Self-Help System Where Might Makes Right

In international relations, “anarchy” doesn’t mean chaos – it means there’s no 911 to call when another country invades you. Unlike a domestic society, the world has no central government or global sheriff to enforce laws. Each state is on its own, operating in a self-help system where survival is priority number one ( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ) ( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ). Political scientist Kenneth Waltz put it bluntly: “wars occur because there is nothing to prevent them” (Anarchy (international relations) – Wikipedia). In this anarchic arena, power often decides outcomes. As ancient historian Thucydides wrote over 2,400 years ago, “the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must.” The absence of a higher authority means states must watch their backs and seize advantages where they can – a “brutal arena where states look for opportunities to take advantage of each other,” as realist John Mearsheimer candidly observes ( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ).

Think of the world as a giant multiplayer game with no referee. Security is DIY. If Country A builds tanks, Country B gets nervous and builds missiles. That, in IR lingo, is the security dilemma – measures one state takes to feel safer (like arming up or forming alliances) make others feel less safe, prompting them to arm in response ( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ). Everyone ends up on edge. In this anarchic “Wild West”, trust is hard to come by and peace is a fragile thing. As Mearsheimer explains, no state can ever be 100% sure of others’ intentions, so every state is compelled to prepare for the worst ( Dissecting the Realist Argument for Russia’s Invasion of Ukraine ). Anarchy isn’t a license for constant war – but it is the ever-present threat that might makes right if diplomacy fails.

The Monopoly on Violence – and Why It Stops at the Border

In 1918, sociologist Max Weber famously defined the modern state as the entity with a “monopoly on the legitimate use of physical force” within its territory (State monopoly on violence | Political Science, Sociology & History | Britannica). Essentially, your government is the only one allowed to bust down your door with a SWAT team – anyone else who tries is committing a crime. This monopoly on violence is what keeps domestic order: we accept that the police (usually) have the rightful use of force, so society doesn’t descend into every-person-for-themselves violence.

Internationally, however, Weber’s rule goes out the window. There is no world government claiming a monopoly on force across nations. The United Nations can pass resolutions and international law sets norms, but there’s no Leviathan to enforce them consistently. As one scholar dryly noted, in domestic politics the government enforces the law, “however the same cannot be said of international politics” ( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ). No single authority can stop a determined country from going to war – states can only be restrained by other states (or the fear of consequences). If a nation decides to use force abroad, the best we have are coalitions, sanctions, or occasionally NATO blowing up your tanks – but those are states taking action, not an impartial world cop.

Inside its borders, a state reigns supreme (at least in theory); outside, it’s the Wild West. That’s why “international anarchy” means even the biggest powers must ultimately resort to self-help ( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ). The U.S. can’t call a global 911 to report Russia’s invasion of Ukraine – it rallies allies and sends weapons. When no one monopolizes violence globally, power rules. States jealously guard their sovereignty and are loath to cede it to any higher authority, which is why schemes for “world government” remain the stuff of sci-fi. As a result, world politics often resembles a Jerry Springer show without the security guards: lots of contestants, flimsy rules, and occasional chair-throwing.

Realism: Power Politics and the Tragic Quest for Security

Realists look at that anarchy and shrug: “Of course it’s a dog-eat-dog world.” They argue that states, like rational gangsters, prioritize power and security above all. In realism’s bleak view, international politics is an endless struggle for power, because in a self-help system, no one else is going to protect you. Classic realist Hans Morgenthau summed it up: “All politics is a struggle for power” and in the international arena this struggle “cannot be readily tamed” ( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ). In other words, might makes right – or at least might keeps you alive – because anarchy leaves states no choice.

Realists from Thucydides to Machiavelli to Mearsheimer share a pessimistic view of human nature and international life. They assume states are led by imperfect humans who crave power (or fear losing it), and without a higher authority, war is always possible. Survival is the name of the game (The Past as Prologue: Realist Thought and the Future of American Security Policy). Whether you’re a superpower or a small state, you must always be vigilant and prepared to defend yourself. In this harsh light, moral principles or lofty ideals come second to national interest (if they come at all). As one realist quip goes, “God help the nation that forgets to help itself.”

What does this look like in practice? Security dilemmas and arms races. Imagine two neighbors in a bad part of town: if one buys a shotgun for protection, the other, feeling threatened, buys two shotguns. Realists see the same dynamic with states. “States’ actions to assure their own security tend to threaten the security of other states,” as one textbook notes ( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ). The U.S. builds a new missile defense system; Russia and China respond with new missiles to evade it. India tests nukes; Pakistan immediately does the same. It’s a vicious circle where each state’s search for security makes others feel insecure. In realist lore, this is the tragedy of great power politics – even defensive moves can provoke conflict.

Nowhere is this more evident than in the debates over NATO expansion and the Ukraine war. After the Cold War, NATO (a U.S.-led military alliance) kept expanding eastward, adding former Soviet-aligned countries. To Western liberals, this was about spreading security and democracy. To Russian realists, it looked like a slow-motion encirclement.

Map of NATO’s expansion (dates indicate when each country joined). Realists argue that as NATO moved right up to Russia’s doorstep (dark blue = original members; light shades = later additions), Russia’s leaders felt increasingly threatened and boxed in.

Mearsheimer and other realists warned for years that extending NATO into Russia’s backyard (especially talk of Ukraine joining) would trigger a fierce reaction ( Dissecting the Realist Argument for Russia’s Invasion of Ukraine ). From a realist perspective, Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine was a brutal (and tragic) yet somewhat predictable outcome of great-power security logic. A major power (Russia) saw a neighboring territory slipping into a rival’s orbit and decided it had to lash out to preserve its sphere of influence ( Dissecting the Realist Argument for Russia’s Invasion of Ukraine ). In Moscow’s eyes, Ukraine aligning with the West – possibly hosting NATO forces one day – posed an intolerable strategic threat. So, Russia invaded to keep Ukraine out of NATO and reassert its dominance. Realists don’t justify this (plenty of realists condemn the war) – but they explain it as the kind of thing that happens in an anarchic world of great-power rivalry. As Mearsheimer bluntly put it, states will always look to maximize their own security, even at others’ expense, because they can never fully trust each other’s intentions ( Dissecting the Realist Argument for Russia’s Invasion of Ukraine ).

Realism is often criticized as cynical or amoral, but it has a certain cold logic. It reminds us that power imbalances and fear drive a lot of state behavior. The U.S. and China, for example, are caught in what some call a brewing Thucydides Trap: a rising power (China) and a ruling power (the U.S.) eye each other with suspicion, each arming and maneuvering to check the other. Realists would predict tension (and potentially war) as almost structural inevitabilities of anarchy and power transitions. History, they note, is littered with great-power wars.

So in the realist worldview, international relations is a gladiatorial arena. Diplomacy and treaties can put fights on pause, but ultimately “peace is a period of cheating between wars.” It’s not that realists like this situation – they just see it as the reality. And they urge leaders to deal with the world as it is: build hard power, form alliances of convenience, deter your enemies, and don’t get too idealistic. In an anarchic jungle, the cautious (and armed) survive.

Liberalism: Institutions, Interdependence, and the (Occasional) Triumph of Cooperation

Not everyone in the IR field is a doom-and-gloom realist. Liberals (no, not in the U.S. domestic sense – we’re talking international liberalism) admit anarchy is real, but they insist it doesn’t always spell doom. Cooperation is possible in this self-help world, and war isn’t inevitable. How? Because states can build institutions, norms, and economic ties that mitigate anarchy’s dangers ( Introducing Liberalism in International Relations Theory ). If realism is a bar fight, liberalism is group therapy – with some ground rules, honest communication, and mutual benefits, maybe we don’t have to smash beer bottles over each other’s heads.

At its core, liberalism is more optimistic about human nature and progress. It reminds us that while anarchy is the backdrop, it’s not always a war of all against all. Repeated interactions, trade, and shared values can foster trust and peace over time. Institutions – from formal ones like the United Nations to informal norms like respecting diplomatic immunity – provide a framework for states to cooperate and resolve conflicts without reaching for the gun every time. Liberals often talk about “absolute gains”: unlike realists who focus on who gains more (relative gains), liberals care that everyone can gain through cooperation. It’s not zero-sum; we can all win (or at least win more) by working together.

One of the liberal all-stars, Woodrow Wilson (the U.S. president in WWI), championed the League of Nations precisely to create a forum where nations would solve disputes collectively rather than fight. The Wilsonian ideal was collective security – an attack on one is an attack on all, so aggressors are deterred (Milestones in the History of U.S. Foreign Relations – Office of the Historian). That league didn’t live up to the hype (spoiler: WWII happened), but it laid the groundwork for the United Nations and the broader post-WWII liberal order. After 1945, the victorious Allies built a slew of international institutions: the UN for political cooperation, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and World Bank for economic stability, the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT) (later the WTO) for open trade, and more. The idea was to embed countries in a web of interdependence and rules, so that war would be less tempting and less frequent.

The United Nations General Assembly in session. Liberal theorists argue that institutions like the UN – where virtually all countries meet to discuss and coordinate – help moderate the anarchic world by facilitating dialogue, setting norms, and even coordinating collective action.

Liberals love free trade and democracy almost as much as realists love tanks. Why? There’s the famous democratic peace theory – the observation that democracies rarely (if ever) fight wars against each other (7 Components of Liberalism | Norwich University – Online). If every country were a democracy, liberals hope, war might largely disappear (at least big wars – domestic riots and minor border scuffles not included). The logic is that democratic leaders are accountable to citizens who don’t want to die in pointless wars, and democracies share norms of negotiation and compromise. Meanwhile, economic interdependence – globalization, baby – means your prosperity is tied to mine. If I bomb your factories, my supply chains and investments go up in smoke. As one study notes, “economically interdependent states are reluctant to become involved in militarized disputes out of fear that conflict disrupts trade and foreign investment and thus imposes costs on the opponents” (Anarchy (international relations) – Wikipedia). In plain English: if we’re making money together, we’re less likely to shoot each other. McDonald’s in your capital might actually be a (greasy) peace symbol.

History provides some liberal success stories. The European Union is a prime example. After centuries of near-constant warfare, including two world wars, the nations of Europe decided to tie themselves together so tightly (economically and politically) that war would be unthinkable. They created a common market, then a union, even a common currency (Euro). The result? France and Germany – arch-enemies in the 19th and early 20th centuries – now settle disputes in Brussels meeting rooms, not battlefields. It’s not all kumbaya (see: Brexit, or fights over EU budgets), but the EU has made war in Western Europe as unlikely as a polite Twitter debate. That’s a liberal win.

Another example: the United Nations, flawed as it is, provides a platform for dialogue and a mechanism (the Security Council) for joint security action. It has helped prevent some conflicts and resolve others peacefully. International treaties and norms have curbed the spread of nuclear weapons (the Non-Proliferation Treaty), banned nasty weapons like chemical arms, and governed everything from trade to air travel. None of these rules are perfectly enforced (remember, no world government), but they create expectations and reputational costs. Even superpowers often prefer to work through institutions – think of the U.S. building a coalition and getting UN approval (well, sort of) for the First Gulf War in 1991, rather than just going solo.

Liberals also point out that after WWII, under U.S. leadership, we got a relatively stable and prosperous “liberal international order.” This order was “open and rule-based… enshrined in institutions such as the United Nations and norms such as multilateralism” (What is the Liberal International Order? | German Marshall Fund of the United States). It wasn’t global utopia (the Cold War was a thing, and many countries were left out), but it provided a framework where many states chose cooperation over conflict. Countries that might have fought economically instead hashed out differences in the GATT/WTO or IMF. When crises struck (oil shocks, financial crises), international institutions responded to help manage the fallout collectively.

Crucially, liberals don’t deny anarchy – they just think its effects can be softened. Yes, states ultimately have to look out for themselves, but enlightened self-interest can lead them to cooperate. If I know I’ll interact with you again and again (an idea called iteration), I have an incentive to build a good reputation and not backstab you today – because tomorrow I need you. International law and orgs help by monitoring behavior and lengthening the shadow of the future. Cheating on a deal can tarnish a state’s credibility and invite punishment via sanctions or loss of trust.

Of course, liberals acknowledge that cooperation can fail. Not every state is democratic or keen on free trade (looking at you, North Korea). But they see conflict not as inevitable destiny, but as a problem to be solved by building more ties that bind states together. A liberal might say: Sure, anarchy is out there, but so is the EU, and NATO’s collective security, and the fact that Boeing and Airbus would really hate their home countries to start bombing each other. The world, in this view, is slowly (two steps forward, one step back) moving toward greater interconnectedness, which makes old-school war among major powers increasingly costly and unlikely.

So whereas realists see international politics as endless rivalry, liberals see it as an evolving project – one where rule of law, international institutions, democracy, and trade are gradually taming the anarchic beast. Call it idealistic if you want (realists certainly do), but hey, the past 75 years have been pretty kind to zones of liberal peace and cooperation (and kind of rough when those norms break down). Liberals would say: we’ve avoided WWIII not just because of nukes (the realist answer) but because we built a United Nations, a global economy, and a belief (at least in some parts of the world) that war is a really bad way to settle problems.

Constructivism: Ideas, Identities, and “Anarchy Is What States Make of It”

So we’ve got the realists expecting the worst and liberals hoping for the best. Enter the constructivists, who basically say: “Hold on, it’s not just about brute power or signing treaties – it’s about ideas, beliefs, and identities.” Where realists see a gun and liberals see a treaty, constructivists ask: Who’s holding the gun? What do they believe? What’s their relationship? Because those intangibles can trump raw capabilities.

The famous line that captures constructivism is Alexander Wendt’s dictum, “Anarchy is what states make of it.” In other words, anarchy is like an empty stage – states arrive and act out scripts based on their ideas, norms, and identities, and those interactions determine whether the play is a tragedy, comedy, or action thriller. There’s nothing inevitable about anarchy forcing states to be enemies; *it all depends on how they *perceive** each other and what meanings they attach to their actions ( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ) ( Introducing Constructivism in International Relations Theory ).

A classic constructivist example: 500 British nuclear weapons vs. 5 North Korean nuclear weapons ( Introducing Constructivism in International Relations Theory ). Materially, 500 nukes could annihilate you many times over, and 5 nukes could maybe destroy a couple cities. But which makes the United States more nervous? The 5 North Korean nukes, by a long shot. Why? Because Britain is a U.S. ally, and North Korea is (to put it mildly) not. The material threat from the UK arsenal is larger, but the perceived threat is near zero because the U.S. and UK see each other as friends. Those British nukes are symbolically aimed elsewhere (or in a closet), whereas North Korea’s handful are pointed at the U.S. in rhetoric if not reality. “These identifications are not caused by the nuclear weapons (the material structure) but by the meaning given to the material structure (the ideational structure),” as one explainer puts it ( Introducing Constructivism in International Relations Theory ). This neatly shows that power isn’t objective; what matters is how power is interpreted.

Constructivists thus focus on social context. States aren’t just billiard balls colliding (as realists might have it); they’re social actors that develop relationships. If two states both see each other as hostile, they’ll behave accordingly and possibly become a self-fulfilling prophecy of enmity. But if they come to see each other as friends or at least partners, anarchy feels very different – more like a security community than a knife fight. Identities and norms are key. Is your state recognized as a peace-loving democracy or a rogue pariah? Are you allies bound by treaty and shared values, or rivals with a history of animosity? All this will shape whether an increase in your military triggers my alarms or not.

Take the U.S.-China rivalry today. Realists say it’s all about power transition – and that’s part of it. Liberals say economic ties might avert war – also part of it. Constructivists add: it’s also about ideology and identity. The U.S. and China see each other increasingly as ideological adversaries (one champions liberal democracy, the other promotes authoritarian capitalism). Each has narratives about the other: Americans often cast China as a threatening revisionist power that doesn’t play by the rules; the Chinese often view the U.S. as a hypocritical hegemon determined to contain China and uphold Western dominance. These constructed narratives fuel distrust beyond the raw facts of GDP or missile counts. If, hypothetically, China were a democracy with a human rights record like Sweden’s, Americans would likely worry a lot less about its rise. Conversely, if the U.S. weren’t so enmeshed in Asia or preaching its values, Chinese leaders might feel less antagonistic. The point is, how each side perceives the other – enemy, competitor, potential partner – will shape their fate. Anarchy doesn’t decree eternal hostility; the U.S. and China could theoretically redefine their relationship (say, by reaching some grand bargain or aligning against a common threat like climate change aliens). It’s not easy, but it’s not impossible – because it depends on ideas and interactions, not an immutable law of nature.

Constructivism also highlights the role of norms. International norms (like the taboo against using chemical weapons, or the norm of not conquering territory by force in the 21st century) influence state behavior. Why don’t countries use nukes or chemical weapons in every war, even when they could? Partly fear of retaliation, sure – but also because it’s just not done. Leaders know they’d be condemned as pariahs. That’s a normative constraint that has “socially constructed” these weapons as beyond the pale (most of the time). Similarly, why do countries often seek UN approval for interventions? Because there’s a norm that using force needs some international legitimation – they want that stamp of approval, or at least to show they tried, to be seen as responsible. Reputation, legitimacy, identity – these soft factors matter.

A dramatic real-world case for constructivists is Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022, not from the realist angle we discussed earlier, but from an ideational angle. While realists see NATO expansion and power calculus, constructivists point to Russian nationalism and identity narratives. Vladimir Putin has repeatedly proclaimed that Ukrainians and Russians are “one people,” denying Ukraine’s independent national identity – an idea stemming from a historical narrative (or myth) of a greater “Russian World” (Russkiy Mir) ( Dissecting the Realist Argument for Russia’s Invasion of Ukraine ). He bemoaned the Soviet collapse as a catastrophe that “lost” Russia’s rightful lands ( Dissecting the Realist Argument for Russia’s Invasion of Ukraine ). In Putin’s constructivist mind, Ukraine leaning West wasn’t just a security threat – it was an affront to Russian identity and a loss of something sacred. The decision to invade was driven as much by ideology and a constructed sense of national mission as by raw geopolitics ( Dissecting the Realist Argument for Russia’s Invasion of Ukraine ). A constructivist lens highlights how ideas and emotions (a distorted historical grievance, a desire to restore past glory) motivated the Kremlin. In fact, some argue the war “cannot be fully explained without understanding the pseudo-historical mythos and Putin’s own ideological zealotry” ( Dissecting the Realist Argument for Russia’s Invasion of Ukraine ).

Another example: the end of the Cold War. Realists didn’t see it coming – Soviet power simply evaporated without a shot, which power-based theories struggled to explain initially. What happened was largely ideational: Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev adopted new ideas (“new thinking”) about international cooperation and redefined Soviet identity away from Cold War confrontation. The Soviet elite stopped believing the old narrative of inevitable conflict with capitalism. That led to policies like glasnost and withdrawing from Eastern Europe – moves that a few years prior would have been unthinkable. The Cold War ended because one side changed its mind (oversimplifying a bit, but essentially). Constructivism shines at explaining such shifts: when identities and social norms change, the course of history can change.

In sum, constructivism tells us: “It’s not just the guns and money – it’s the mindset.” The international system is socially constructed by states’ interactions. If states start behaving differently and get new ideas about what’s appropriate, the system’s nature can evolve. Anarchy is like a mirror; it will reflect hostility if that’s what states project, or it can reflect cooperation if states manage to develop trust and shared norms. Even enemies can become friends over time (France and Germany, the U.S. and UK who fought two wars centuries ago, etc.), and friends can become enemies (U.S. and China were WWII allies, now strategic rivals). Nothing is preordained – it depends on human agency, perception, and learning (or mislearning).

To a constructivist, IR isn’t a fixed chessboard; it’s more like a stage play where the characters and script can undergo a rewrite. Change the story, and you change the outcome. That’s both hopeful (we can escape old rivalries) and concerning (bad ideas can make things worse). At the very least, constructivism reminds the other theories that statesmen’s beliefs and peoples’ identities can powerfully shape world politics – sometimes in defiance of raw power or rational interest.

Marxist & Critical Theories: Follow the Money (and the Inequality)

Finally, let’s turn to theories that throw a spotlight on economic power, inequality, and injustice in the international system – the Marxist and critical approaches. If realists see a struggle for power and liberals see a potential community, Marxists see a world divided by class and exploitation. They say: “Sure, anarchy and states matter – but look deeper, at who owns what, who’s rich and who’s poor, and you’ll understand international relations as a story of haves and have-nots.”

Classic Marxist theory views global politics through the lens of capitalism and class struggle. The key actors aren’t just states, but economic classes (the bourgeoisie and proletariat) and capitalist elites who transcend national borders. Early 20th-century theorists like V.I. Lenin and Rosa Luxemburg argued that imperialism – the domination of weaker territories by the great powers – was not just random power hunger, but a product of capitalism’s need for new markets and resources. In fact, Lenin famously called imperialism the “highest stage of capitalism”, where the rich industrial countries carve up the poorer regions for profit (A Closer Look at the Global South | Carnegie Endowment for International Peace). This created a global class division between countries – essentially the wealthy imperial/colonial powers (the Global North in today’s terms) and the exploited colonies or semi-colonies (the Global South) (A Closer Look at the Global South | Carnegie Endowment for International Peace). When colonialism “ended” after WWII, Marxists say it didn’t really end – it morphed into neo-imperialism or economic imperialism, with rich states (and their corporations) still extracting resources and value from the formerly colonized nations through unequal trade, debt, and corporate power.

One branch of this thinking is Dependency Theory, which gained prominence in the 1960s-70s. Dependency theorists from Latin America argued that their countries were kept in a state of underdevelopment because of their integration into the global capitalist system – as providers of cheap raw materials and markets for Western manufactured goods. The terms of trade were stacked against them. Another is World-Systems Theory (Immanuel Wallerstein), which sees the world as one big capitalist system divided into a core (rich industrialized states), periphery (poor, raw-material-exporting states), and semi-periphery (in-between). The core enjoys high-profit production, the periphery is stuck in low-wage, low-profit activities, and this structure tends to perpetuate itself. In short, the rich get richer, the poor stay poor – not by accident, but by design of the global economic order.

Marxist and critical theorists thus highlight that we live not only in a world of states, but a world of uneven development and hierarchical power relations. They’d note, for example, that a handful of countries control the bulk of global wealth and high-tech industry, while many others remain dependent on exporting commodities or labor. This leads to political consequences: poorer states often have less influence and fall into debt traps or client relationships with richer states. During the Cold War, critical theorists saw both the U.S. and USSR as competing empires asserting dominance over the Third World – sometimes viewing the Cold War itself as a squabble over who got to exploit the periphery, rather than a purely ideological battle of good vs. evil.

A world map of GDP per capita (PPP) by country – essentially a map of global wealth. Darker shades = higher income, lighter shades = lower income. The pattern shows North America, Europe, Japan/Australia (Global North) in mostly dark colors (wealthy), while much of Africa and parts of Asia (Global South) are in lighter colors (poorer). Marxist and critical theories emphasize that such economic disparities are the result of historical exploitation and unequal structures in the world economy, not just differences in governance or culture.

The Cold War through a Marxist lens: The U.S. and its Western allies represented the capitalist core, while the Soviet bloc was a rival power offering an alternative model (state socialism). Some Marxists cheered anti-colonial movements and Third World socialism as efforts to break free from the capitalist world-system. Others critiqued the Soviet Union itself as a form of state capitalism or a red empire. Either way, the superpower competition often played out in proxy wars and struggles in the Third World (Asia, Africa, Latin America). For example, critical theorists would interpret the Vietnam War not just as a Cold War domino theory issue, but as the Vietnamese fighting off Western imperialism (first France, then the U.S.) in a bid for independent development. The Global South, as it came to be called, banded together in movements like the Non-Aligned Movement and the G-77 at the UN, explicitly pushing back against both superpower domination and economic inequality. This idea of a North-South divide persists: many countries in Asia, Africa, and Latin America see the world order as post-colonial in name but not fully in practice, with wealthy nations still largely setting the rules and benefiting from them (A Closer Look at the Global South | Carnegie Endowment for International Peace).

One area where Marxist/critical approaches have been very vocal is critiquing the IMF and World Bank – the very institutions liberals applaud. Critics from the Global South often charge that these institutions impose “structural adjustment” programs on indebted countries that amount to neoliberal shock therapy: cutting public spending, privatizing state industries, opening up to foreign capital – essentially remaking their economies to be good free-market players (and good places for foreign investors). While the IMF portrays these as necessary reforms for growth, opponents liken it to neocolonialism via finance (Neocolonialism and the IMF – Harvard Political Review). When you’re desperately in debt, you have little choice but to swallow the IMF’s medicine, which in many cases through the 80s and 90s led to social pain, inequality, and sometimes worse outcomes for the poor. For instance, IMF loans often came with demands to cut subsidies on food or fuel, causing hardship for the poorest. Privatization and deregulation often benefited foreign companies and local elites, while workers got laid off and inequality increased. A Harvard Political Review analysis noted that these IMF conditions – austerity, privatization, free-market reforms – frequently benefit those who are already wealthy, while the economically vulnerable pay the price (Neocolonialism and the IMF – Harvard Political Review). In one striking comparison, the IMF’s approach has been likened to negotiating with strapped countries “at the barrel of a gun” – do this or your economy collapses (Neocolonialism and the IMF – Harvard Political Review). In effect, wealthy creditor countries (and banks) wield power over poorer debtor countries, shaping their policies in ways that critics say echo colonial domination, just without direct political control (Neocolonialism and the IMF – Harvard Political Review).

Another critical perspective is Neo-Gramscian theory, which looks at how ideas and ideology (not just brute force or money) maintain the dominance of certain groups. Antonio Gramsci, an Italian Marxist, talked about cultural hegemony – the dominance of ideology that makes the status quo seem natural. In IR, Neo-Gramscians might argue that the dominance of neoliberal economic ideas (free markets, globalization as inevitable) in late 20th century created a consent, even in developing countries, to a system that in practice benefited the rich states and their corporations. When everyone internalizes “this is the only way,” the system’s power structures are reinforced without the need for coercion. But when counter-ideologies rise (say, Latin America’s “pink tide” of socialist-leaning governments in the 2000s, or current debates on decolonizing global governance), they challenge that hegemony.

So what do Marxist and critical theories tell us? They cry out: “Don’t ignore global inequality! Don’t buy the fairytale that everyone’s playing on a level field.” They point out that the global South’s perspectives are often marginalized. For many countries, the primary experience of the international system isn’t balancing power or signing treaties – it’s grinding under debt, terms of trade they can’t control, and interventions (military or economic) by great powers that stunt their sovereign choices. Even foreign aid and development programs, some argue, create dependencies and serve donor interests.

These theories urge us to see, for example, the continuity from colonialism to today: Why is most of Africa impoverished relative to Europe? It’s not because of anarchy or a lack of UN; there’s a long history of slave trade, colonization, resource extraction, and now a global economy where African nations export cheap commodities and import expensive finished goods – a structure that perpetuates inequality. Why do multinational corporations have revenues bigger than the GDPs of many countries? Because the system empowers capital over governments, especially weaker governments. And why do we have sweatshops in Bangladesh and mines in Congo with awful conditions? Because in the capitalist world economy, someone has to be at the bottom of the supply chain where labor is cheapest and regulations lax – and critical theorists argue that’s not an accident but a deliberate outcome of how power is organized globally.

Of course, Marxist and critical theories come in many flavors and have their own debates. But they collectively serve as a reminder that **international relations isn’t just about diplomacy and war – it’s also about *who benefits*. They often align with calls for justice: debt relief, fair trade, reforming the IMF/World Bank voting rules (where rich countries dominate decision-making (Neocolonialism and the IMF – Harvard Political Review)), climate justice (since rich industrialized states caused most of the emissions but poor states suffer a lot of the impact), etc. They encourage looking at how issues of *race, gender, and post-colonial identity* intersect with international politics too (for instance, postcolonial feminists might analyze how women in the global South bear the brunt of global economic inequalities).

In a way, Marxist/critical approaches flip the realist script: Instead of assuming all states are equal units in an anarchic soup, they say no, there’s hierarchy in disguise. Some states (and classes) dominate others, not by overt empire perhaps, but through structural power. It’s less “each against each” and more “the 1% against the 99%,” scaled globally.

Conclusion: One World, Many Worldviews

So, where does this leave us? Is world politics a hobbesian free-for-all where only power matters, a community in the making through cooperation, a social construct shaped by our ideas, or a rigged game of rich vs. poor? The unsatisfying yet truthful answer: all of the above, depending on where and when you look. International relations is complex, and each theory we’ve discussed – Realism, Liberalism, Constructivism, Marxist/Critical – shines a light on different corners of that complexity.

Realism offers a sober warning that power politics and security dilemmas never vanish – witness the trenches in Ukraine, or the U.S.-China naval standoffs. Liberalism reminds us that progress and cooperation are possible – the fact that NATO and the EU exist and that most of the globe trades more and wars less (comparatively) than in past eras is not trivial. Constructivism shows that change is possible – yesterday’s enemy can be today’s ally (and alas, vice versa), because identities and perceptions can shift. And Marxist/critical theories demand we not forget justice and inequality – the lived reality for billions not in the rooms where treaties are signed is defined by the global distribution of wealth and power, which is often anything but fair.

In practice, good analysts (and good leaders) probably need to consider all these lenses. Want to understand the South China Sea disputes? A realist sees military bases and deterrence; a liberal sees ASEAN forums and trade interdependence; a constructivist sees historical narratives about national territory; a critical theorist sees resource grabs and inequality between big and small states. Each adds insight. The trick is knowing which lens to apply when – or how to blend them – and doing so with clear eyes and maybe a dash of humor.

At The Newett Standard, our tone may be irreverent, but the stakes in IR are deadly serious. Understanding these fundamental concepts – anarchy, power, security, interdependence, identity, imperialism – helps make sense of the nightly news chaos. It’s a way to impose some intellectual order on international anarchy. And perhaps, as citizens of this unruly globe, knowing about power politics and liberal institutions and social constructs and economic injustice arms us with better tools to debate what our leaders should do.

The world will likely remain anarchic – a central world government isn’t happening anytime soon (and if it did, the aliens from Independence Day would probably show up the next morning). But within that anarchy, competing worldviews and strategies will continue to shape the destiny of nations. Whether we slide into great-power war, inch toward cooperative problem-solving, redefine our identities, or revolutionize the global order for justice – those outcomes depend on the ideas and actions of people informed (consciously or not) by the theories we’ve discussed.

International Relations 101 might not solve world peace, but it can hopefully make you a sharper observer of world events – and perhaps a slightly less terrified one. After all, once you see the patterns, the chaos becomes a bit more understandable. And as we like to say, acknowledging reality – be it a gritty power struggle or an unjust structure – is the first step to changing it. In the anarchic jungle of IR, knowledge is, if not power, then at least a machete to cut through the thicket of news hype and nationalist bluster.

So the next time you hear about a crisis – a war, a trade deal, a coup, a climate summit walkout – you’ll have some frameworks to chew on: Is it realism’s security dilemma? Liberalism’s lack of institutions? Clashing identities per constructivism? Economic exploitation per critical theory? The answer could be one or a mix. Congratulations, you’re thinking like an IR scholar (the stylish tweed blazer is optional). And as long as global anarchy persists, there will be plenty for those scholars – and all of us – to debate.

( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ) ( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ) Lebow, R.N. (2007) “Classical Realism”, referencing Goldstein & Pevehouse’s definition of anarchy as lack of central government.

(Anarchy (international relations) – Wikipedia) Waltz, K. (1959) “Man, the State and War”, describing anarchy as a permissive cause of war (“wars occur because there is nothing to prevent them”).

(The Past as Prologue: Realist Thought and the Future of American Security Policy) Forsyth Jr., J.W. (2011) “The Past as Prologue”, paraphrasing Thucydides: in a world with no central authority, survival is the name of the game.

( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ) E-IR, “Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy” – characterizing anarchy as a brutal arena (Mearsheimer quote).

( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ) Goldstein & Pevehouse (2006) – definition of the security dilemma.

( Dissecting the Realist Argument for Russia’s Invasion of Ukraine ) Mearsheimer, J. (2014) – “Because no state can ever be sure… every state is compelled to look for ways to guarantee its own survival.”

(State monopoly on violence | Political Science, Sociology & History | Britannica) Britannica – Max Weber’s definition of the state (monopoly of legitimate force within territory).

( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ) E-IR – contrast of domestic order vs international anarchy (no enforcement internationally).

( Realist and Constructivist Approaches to Anarchy ) Lebow (2007) on Morgenthau – “all politics is a struggle for power… in the international arena this struggle cannot be tamed.”

( Dissecting the Realist Argument for Russia’s Invasion of Ukraine ) E-IR, “Dissecting the Realist Argument…” – Russia viewed Ukraine’s westward drift as threat, aiming to reestablish a sphere of influence.

( Introducing Constructivism in International Relations Theory ) E-IR, “Introducing Constructivism…” – Wendt’s example: US perceives 500 British nukes as less threatening than 5 North Korean nukes, due to social relationship (ally vs enemy).

( Introducing Constructivism in International Relations Theory ) E-IR, “Introducing Constructivism…” – Wendt’s “anarchy is what states make of it,” meaning anarchy’s effect depends on the meanings actors assign to it.

( Dissecting the Realist Argument for Russia’s Invasion of Ukraine ) E-IR, “Dissecting the Realist Argument… (Ukraine)” – noting Putin’s “Russian World” ideology and pseudo-historical beliefs drove decisions as much as geopolitics; war can’t be explained without these ideological factors.

(Milestones in the History of U.S. Foreign Relations – Office of the Historian) U.S. Office of the Historian – “Wilsonian vision for collective security through U.S. leadership in international organizations, like the League of Nations…”

( Introducing Liberalism in International Relations Theory ) E-IR, “Introducing Liberalism…” – institutions and norms at international level limit state power by fostering cooperation and imposing costs on violators; economic interdependence yields cooperation benefits; liberal norms shape behavior.

(Anarchy (international relations) – Wikipedia) Wikipedia – Liberal theory: interdependent states are reluctant to fight because war disrupts trade/investment and imposes costs on both sides.

(Complex interdependence – Wikipedia) Wikipedia – Keohane & Nye argue declining use of force and rising interdependence increase probability of cooperation.

(What is the Liberal International Order? | German Marshall Fund of the United States) German Marshall Fund – Liberal international order understood as an “open and rule-based international order” enshrined in institutions like the UN and norms like multilateralism.

(A Closer Look at the Global South | Carnegie Endowment for International Peace) Carnegie Endowment – “Lenin and Rosa Luxemburg depicted imperialism as the highest stage of capitalism, one that created a global class division between countries that had accumulated capital and countries that they had exploited.”

(A Closer Look at the Global South | Carnegie Endowment for International Peace) Carnegie Endowment – concept of the Global South resonates as an expression of perceived exclusion from enduring hierarchies; NAM unified diverse nations to amplify voice and rebalance global power.

(Neocolonialism and the IMF – Harvard Political Review) Harvard Political Review – IMF accused of neocolonialism: wealthy states hold power (U.S. has effective veto); instead of old colonial military dominance, now leverage of conditional loans and economic influence to sway policy.

(Neocolonialism and the IMF – Harvard Political Review) Harvard Political Review – The IMF’s neoliberal policies (austerity, privatization, etc.) often benefit the wealthy while the vulnerable bear the cost; evidence that in many countries IMF programs increased income share of top earners at expense of bottom 80%.