By Dr Robert Crowcroft

Predicting the future is usually a mug's game. Trying to discern what will, and will not, happen is not a profitable activity. Fortunately, however, the outlines of the international order over the coming decades are already there, at least for those who want to see them – because, in a very real sense, the 'future' is happening now. And that future is dystopian.

Definitions of 'dystopian' yield phrases like 'grim' and 'as bad as can be'; there is widespread 'human misery' and 'repressive social systems' under the guise of idealism, as well as 'poverty', and a 'constant' state of warfare and conflict. To those willing to recognise it as such, a new international political order has been emerging since the 1990s, gathering force by the year, and extending ever wider. This is a dystopian order, and, in short, is a very bad thing for humanity. Seeing the world in this way offers a far more realistic framework for understanding contemporary events and international dynamics than the unfounded dreams of an approaching golden age of co-operation forced down our throats by shrill Western leftists.

What makes the new international system qualify as dystopian is a convergence between the near-universal utopianism that marks political language in today's world with the increasing prevalence of violence, the impact of ethnic tensions, unprecedented global population growth, resource shortage and climate change, and the way in which technological advance facilitates police states. The strength of these forces is striking. Take Africa. In the last two decades the 'dark continent' has been exceptionally violent. Warfare has occurred virtually everywhere in Africa, both within and between states. There are precious few polities that function even adequately, let alone well. Tribal loyalties remain a powerful call on loyalties, and where ethnic tensions occur they ripple across national borders. In Central Africa, for example, in 1993 Tutsis in Burundi staged a coup and slaughtered around 100,000 Hutus. In 1994 the Hutus struck back with a coup in neighbouring Rwanda, overthrowing the Tutsis and celebrating the victory by instigating a genocide that left up to one million Tutsis dead. The effects rippled out across the geopolitics of the Great Lakes region: Uganda, Tanzania, and Sudan all felt the impact, as did the Democratic Republic of Congo, essentially a huge ungoverned space for several decades. But this is just one example; indeed the African states system has essentially collapsed. External states display only a fleeting interest in the region, and the two Sub-Saharan powers of any significance, Nigeria and South Africa, are both unwilling and probably unable to do much about it. This, surely, is 'as bad as can be'. During the football World Cup, when South Africa scored in the opening match of the tournament the BBC commentator – obviously brainwashed with comforting liberal assumptions about Mandela and so on – couldn't wait to exclaim that 'It's a goal for South Africa! It's a goal for all of Africa!' Presumably someone had written the line for him, but I wonder how the Hutus and the Tutsis feel about being lumped together, by the ignorance of the white man, into an imaginary emerging multicultural paradise? The arrogance is outrageous. When Germany defeated Uruguay in the third place play-off, was anyone stupid enough to yell that 'It's a victory for all of Europe'?

Dr Robert Crowcroft, Research Associate, UK Defence Forum

The most common starting point when analysing international politics is to argue that decisions are framed by 'national interests' and 'reasons of state'. Academics, analysts, and journalists alike do it. The basic assumption here is that the external forces exerting themselves on states (usually connected to security) are the key factors in determining what a government chooses to do, and not do, in its foreign policy. Only a fool would deny the importance of challenges from other powers, the threat of refugee flows, and the need for a secure neighbourhood. However, other perspectives do exist. One of the more persuasive centres upon the domestic high politics of foreign affairs. By that I mean the way in which domestic political pressures and ambitions can influence decisions taken in foreign policy.

In this framework, foreign policy should be seen as not only a device for safeguarding national interests, but also as a means of advancing the personal agendas of political leaders – perhaps irrespective of what that might mean for those broader 'national interests'. A recent STRATFOR essay speculated that Barack Obama may choose to escape from his domestic political problems by focusing on the realm of foreign affairs, using his constitutional freedom of action in that realm to make a bold move. The purpose would be to rebuild his credibility, appear tough and 'Presidential', and seek a high-stakes 'win' that might just be enough to turn the electoral tide and secure Obama a second term in the White House. How would he do this? By waging a successful war against Iran.