In 2007, a curious new word entered the diplomatic lexicon. Moisés Naím, editor of Foreign Policy, coined "minilateralism" to describe a growing trend: instead of pursuing grand universal agreements, nations were forming smaller, nimbler coalitions to tackle specific problems.

The shift reflected a hard-won lesson from decades of multilateral frustration. The Doha Round of trade negotiations had stalled. Climate summits produced weak commitments. The UN Security Council remained gridlocked by veto politics. Meanwhile, smaller groupings—the G20, the Quad, the Financial Action Task Force—were actually getting things done.

This represented more than diplomatic convenience. It signaled a fundamental rethinking of how global cooperation works. Rather than waiting for 193 countries to agree, what if the handful of nations that truly mattered on any given issue simply moved forward together?

The arithmetic of consensus explains minilateralism's appeal. Every additional country at the negotiating table multiplies the complexity. With 193 UN members, reaching meaningful agreement on anything controversial becomes nearly impossible. One obstructionist nation can derail years of work.

Smaller coalitions sidestep this paralysis. The Financial Action Task Force, founded in 1989 with just seven members, has become the global standard-setter for combating money laundering. Its recommendations now shape financial regulations worldwide. The group succeeded precisely because it started small, building legitimacy through effectiveness rather than inclusivity.

But this efficiency comes at a cost. Who decides which countries matter enough to be included? The Quad—comprising the US, Japan, Australia, and India—coordinates Indo-Pacific security without input from Southeast Asian nations most affected by regional tensions. Critics argue this isn't cooperation; it's great power coordination dressed in multilateral clothing.

The legitimacy question cuts deep. International institutions derive authority partly from their universal membership. When the UN speaks, it speaks for humanity. When the Quad speaks, it speaks for four powerful democracies pursuing their strategic interests. Both have value, but they carry fundamentally different moral weight.

Takeaway

Effectiveness and legitimacy exist in tension—smaller groups can act decisively but struggle to claim they speak for more than their own interests.

Traditional international institutions assumed a fixed architecture. The UN, World Bank, and WTO were built as permanent structures with defined memberships and comprehensive mandates. You were either in or out, bound by the same rules regardless of the issue.

Minilateralism operates differently. Instead of one grand institution, it envisions overlapping networks that form and dissolve around specific challenges. Climate change might bring together major emitters. Pandemic preparedness might unite countries with strong health systems. Cybersecurity might require a coalition of technologically advanced democracies.

This "variable geometry" approach matches coalitions to problems. The Coalition for Epidemic Preparedness Innovations—launched after the 2014 Ebola crisis—brings together governments, foundations, and pharmaceutical companies specifically to accelerate vaccine development. It doesn't try to reform global health governance; it simply fills a particular gap.

The approach has intellectual roots in network theory. Anne-Marie Slaughter, former US State Department Director of Policy Planning, argued that contemporary power operates through connections rather than hierarchy. In a networked world, the ability to convene the right actors matters more than commanding formal authority. Minilateralism is network governance applied to international relations.

Takeaway

The future of global governance may look less like a unified architecture and more like a shifting constellation—different groupings forming around different problems as circumstances demand.

Here lies the central debate: do minilateral initiatives strengthen the broader multilateral order, or gradually hollow it out? Optimists see them as building blocks—laboratories where solutions are tested before scaling up to universal application.

The Montreal Protocol offers a hopeful precedent. Initial negotiations to protect the ozone layer began with a small group of developed nations. Once they demonstrated that phasing out CFCs was economically viable, the agreement expanded to near-universal participation. The minilateral beginning didn't undermine multilateralism; it made it possible.

Pessimists see a darker trajectory. When powerful nations can achieve their goals through exclusive clubs, why would they invest in strengthening universal institutions? The proliferation of minilateral arrangements might reflect not pragmatic problem-solving but a deliberate erosion of forums where smaller nations have voice.

The evidence remains mixed. On trade, regional agreements have sometimes served as stepping stones toward broader liberalization. On security, however, selective coalitions often harden divisions rather than bridging them. The outcome may depend less on minilateralism itself than on whether participants see smaller groupings as means to larger ends or destinations in themselves.

Takeaway

Minilateralism's ultimate impact depends on intent—whether it serves as a pathway to broader cooperation or becomes an escape route from the difficult work of building truly inclusive institutions.

Minilateralism isn't inherently good or bad—it's a tool whose value depends on how it's wielded. At its best, it enables action when universal consensus remains out of reach, building momentum that eventually draws in reluctant partners.

At its worst, it creates a two-tiered international order where powerful nations coordinate among themselves while paying lip service to universal principles. The challenge lies in designing minilateral initiatives that remain genuinely open—building blocks rather than gated communities.

The future probably holds both. Some minilateral groupings will evolve into broader institutions. Others will remain exclusive clubs serving narrow interests. Learning to distinguish between them—and pushing for the former—may be the central task of global governance reform in our era.