Every year, images circulate of world leaders in matching shirts, awkwardly posing for group photos at some scenic resort. The casual observer might wonder: what actually happens at these summits? Are they elaborate photo opportunities, or do they shape the global order?

The answer sits uncomfortably in between. The G7 and G20 represent a distinctive form of global governance—club diplomacy—where the world's most powerful leaders gather without the bureaucratic machinery of formal international organizations. No binding votes. No permanent secretariat (until recently). Just leaders, their advisors, and conversations that can shift trillions in policy.

This informal approach to managing global challenges has achieved remarkable things: coordinating responses to financial crises, shaping climate commitments, and creating space for the kind of candid exchange that formal institutions cannot provide. But it also raises fundamental questions about legitimacy, effectiveness, and whether a club of wealthy nations can adequately govern an interconnected world.

The G7 began in 1975 when French President Valéry Giscard d'Estaing invited leaders from five major economies to Rambouillet for an informal weekend discussion about the global economic turbulence following the oil crisis. No agenda. No communiqué requirements. Just conversation among leaders who controlled most of the world's economic output.

This informality was deliberate. Formal institutions like the United Nations operate through established procedures, voting mechanisms, and diplomatic protocols. These structures provide legitimacy but also create rigidity. The club model sacrifices inclusivity for agility. When leaders sit around a table without interpreters, advisors, or cameras, they can speak frankly in ways impossible at the UN General Assembly.

The format creates what international relations scholars call transgovernmental networks—relationships between leaders that transcend their formal roles. Angela Merkel and Barack Obama didn't just negotiate; they developed working relationships that enabled quick coordination during crises. When the 2008 financial system teetered, these pre-existing relationships allowed leaders to coordinate rescue packages in days rather than months.

Yet the club model's strengths reveal its limitations. Legitimacy flows from either democratic accountability or broad participation. The G7 has neither—it's self-selected, representing less than 15% of the world's population while claiming to address global challenges. The creation of the G20 partly addressed this by including major emerging economies, but even twenty nations cannot claim to speak for 195.

Takeaway

Sometimes the most effective governance happens through relationships rather than rules—but effectiveness without legitimacy creates its own problems.

The G20's elevation from a finance ministers' forum to a leaders' summit in 2008 represented a recognition that the G7 alone couldn't manage a globalized economy. China, India, Brazil, and other emerging powers had become too significant to exclude from discussions about financial stability. The Lehman Brothers collapse made this undeniable—solutions required Beijing's cooperation, not just Washington's.

But expansion creates a paradox that political scientists call the collective action problem. The more members join, the harder coordination becomes. The G7's intimacy allowed genuine negotiation; leaders could make commitments knowing their counterparts faced similar domestic constraints. The G20's diversity means leaders arrive with fundamentally different priorities—climate action means something different to Saudi Arabia than to Germany.

This tension drives ongoing debates about whether the G20 should expand further. The African Union received permanent membership in 2023, but should individual African nations have seats? Indonesia and Mexico participate, but not Nigeria or Pakistan despite similar populations. Each expansion increases representativeness while diluting effectiveness.

Some argue the solution lies in variable geometry—different groupings for different issues. Climate discussions might include different players than financial regulation debates. This already happens informally, with sub-groups forming around specific challenges. But it risks fragmenting the coherent coordination that makes summit diplomacy valuable in the first place.

Takeaway

Every expansion of a governance club trades effectiveness for legitimacy—the challenge is finding the size where both remain sufficient.

The University of Toronto's G7 and G20 Research Groups have tracked summit commitments for decades, assessing whether leaders' promises translate into policy. The results are instructive: compliance rates hover around 70-75% for G7 commitments, somewhat lower for the G20. These numbers sound respectable until you examine what gets committed and what gets implemented.

High compliance clusters around issues where leaders already planned action. When the G7 commits to something domestically popular—supporting Ukraine, fighting terrorism—follow-through is straightforward. The harder commitments involve genuine sacrifice: trade reform, development aid targets, emissions reductions. Here, compliance drops significantly, and commitments often feature careful language that allows creative interpretation.

The most effective summit outcomes tend to involve coordination problems rather than collective action problems. When everyone benefits if everyone acts simultaneously, summits can provide the focal point that triggers action. The 2009 G20 London summit's coordinated fiscal stimulus worked because each country wanted others to stimulate demand too—the summit enabled synchronization. Contrast this with climate commitments, where each nation benefits if others reduce emissions while they continue business as usual.

Recent summits have shown awareness of this credibility gap. The G7 now includes accountability mechanisms—working groups that track implementation between summits. But these mechanisms lack enforcement power. When leaders fail to deliver, consequences are reputational rather than material.

Takeaway

Summit commitments work best when they solve coordination problems—helping everyone do what they already wanted—rather than requiring genuine sacrifice.

The G7 and G20 represent neither the future of global governance nor relics of a passing era. They occupy a specific niche: enabling coordination among the powerful when formal institutions are too slow, too rigid, or too inclusive to act decisively.

Their value lies precisely in their limitations. Because commitments aren't binding, leaders can explore positions without locking themselves in. Because membership is restricted, genuine dialogue remains possible. These features enable certain kinds of cooperation while rendering others impossible.

The question isn't whether summit diplomacy will continue—it will, because leaders find it useful. The question is whether these clubs can evolve fast enough to address challenges that require more than coordination among the willing. Climate change, pandemic preparedness, and AI governance need mechanisms these summits haven't yet provided.