The Fragile World Order

The world order is changing at an alarming pace, and what’s at stake reaches far beyond any single conflict or crisis. The credibility of international law itself is under pressure, tested by actions that appear selective, self-serving, or indifferent to agreed norms. When rules are applied inconsistently, or bent to suit the interests of the powerful, law begins to look less like a shared framework for justice and more like a tool of convenience. That erosion doesn’t happen overnight, but once trust is weakened, it’s painfully hard to restore.

Alongside this, the authority of the United Nations is being steadily undermined when its resolutions are ignored, bypassed, or treated as optional. The UN was never perfect, but it was built on the conviction that dialogue, restraint, and collective decision-making were preferable to unilateral force. When states act as though multilateral institutions matter only when they deliver convenient outcomes, they hollow those institutions out from within, leaving little more than symbolism where substance once stood.

At the heart of the matter lies a vital principle, that no state, however powerful, can appoint itself as judge, jury, and enforcer of the world order. Power without accountability breeds resentment, instability, and, ultimately, resistance. If might replaces right as the organising logic of global affairs, smaller nations are left exposed, alliances fray, and cooperation gives way to fear and calculation.

If that principle collapses, so too does the fragile trust on which global cooperation depends. Climate action, humanitarian protection, arms control, and peace itself all rely on the belief that rules mean something, and that no one is above them. Once that belief is lost, the consequences will be felt everywhere, and for generations.

A Reflection on Joy at Christmas

At Christmas, the difference between happiness and joy comes into sharper focus. The season itself is often wrapped in happiness, familiar songs, warm lights, shared meals, laughter, and moments of comfort and nostalgia. This kind of happiness is good and gift-like, but it’s also fragile. It depends on things lining up, relationships feeling easy, finances holding steady, and the ache of loss staying quietly in the background. When those things don’t fall into place, Christmas happiness can feel thin, or even painful.

Christian joy tells a deeper story. The joy of Christmas isn’t rooted in perfect circumstances but in the astonishing claim that God chose to draw near, not in power or certainty, but in vulnerability. The birth of Jesus doesn’t arrive in a calm, well-ordered world. It comes amid fear, displacement, political oppression, and ordinary human anxiety. That matters, because it means joy isn’t the denial of darkness, it’s light entering it.

Joy, in this sense, is a steady confidence that God is with us, not just when the table is full and the house is warm, but when the heart feels heavy or the season stirs grief as much as gratitude. It allows space for sorrow without surrendering hope. It says that love has taken flesh and pitched its tent among us, and that nothing, not loss, not uncertainty, not brokenness, has the final word.