Reflection on the current geopolitical situation
For a long time, people thought that diplomacy was supposed to end wars. We signed treaties, drew borders, and established new balances, then history resumed its course. This vision is becoming less relevant. The world of June 16, 2026, shows us something else: contemporary diplomacy no longer always seeks to produce peace. It first seeks to prevent disorder from becoming uncontrollable.
That’s the difference between peace and pause. Peace presupposes a settlement. A pause only supposes that the actors accept, for a time, not to go further. The interim agreement between the US and Iran illustrates this new logic perfectly. Washington and Tehran announce a 60-day extension of the ceasefire and the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz, but the toughest issues(missiles, regional militias, the precise future of Iran’s nuclear program) remain largely unresolved. In other words, we do not settle the conflict; we put it under surveillance.
Perhaps that is what modern diplomacy is about: not making crises disappear, but containing them. The US is not necessarily seeking a total victory over Iran. They are seeking a presentable exit, lower energy prices, minimal Gulf stabilization, and a reduction in the risk of regional conflagration. Iran, for its part, does not emerge as a winner in the classical sense, but it achieves what many weak players are now seeking: to stay in the game, to survive politically, to turn its military weakness into a negotiating lever.
The problem is that this control diplomacy often produces fragile agreements. It calms the markets, reassures the countries, and gives leaders an image of responsibility. But it leaves the root causes intact. The US-Iran deal may reopen Hormuz, but it does not settle the rivalry between Israel and Iran. It can offer 60 days of negotiation, but it does not guarantee a new regional architecture. It can reduce the fire but not extinguish the fire.
We can see the same phenomenon in Ukraine. At the G7 summit in France, Western leaders discuss peace, support for Kyiv, new sanctions against Moscow, and European security. But on the ground, war continues. Sanctions are not peace; they are a way of exhausting the adversary. Military or energy aid to Ukraine is not a resolution; it is a way to prevent collapse. Again, diplomacy does not close the crisis. It organizes its duration.
This is perhaps the most profound sign of our time: great powers are no longer always able, or even willing, to settle conflicts. They prefer to manage the balance of power. They create ceasefires, humanitarian corridors, sanctions, temporary guarantees, discussion formats, and multiple mediations. All these measures are useful. But all this is not peace. It is an administration of chaos.
Taiwan offers another example: the crisis is neither an open war nor peace. Chinese pressure is moving into grey areas: naval maneuvers, mapping of the seabed, pressure on underwater cables, military demonstrations, and political intimidation. Beijing does not necessarily cross the threshold of war but is slowly building a more favorable strategic environment. Diplomacy, here, solves nothing; it only tries to prevent the gray war from becoming real war.
Sudan shows yet another side of this impotent diplomacy. More than 1,000 civilians were reportedly killed by drone strikes in the first five months of 2026, according to the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights. Yet this war remains largely peripheral on the international agenda. It is terrible but not very structuring for the major powers. Result: We condemn, we alert, we document, but we do not really transform the conflict.
Thus emerges a cynical hierarchy of crises. Some are managed because they threaten markets, energy, shipping routes, or alliances. Others are simply observed because they do not disturb the world order enough. Modern diplomacy then becomes selective: very active when it comes to Hormuz, Ukraine, or Taiwan; much slower when it comes to Sudan or other tragedies far removed from central interests.
The danger is there. By dint of managing disorder, we end up getting used to it. Ceasefires replace treaties. Memoranda replace historical agreements. Sanctions replace strategies. Summits replace visions. And so the world is moving, not toward stability, but toward organized instability.
This does not mean that diplomacy is useless. In a nuclear, fragmented, interdependent world, preventing escalation is already a necessity. A pause can save lives. A reopened sea corridor can avert an economic crisis. A flawed negotiation is sometimes better than all-out war. But we have to be clear: this is not peace yet. It’s a temporary way of managing the disaster.
So the question is simple: how long can a world live with strategic pauses? How long can we confuse stabilization with a solution? June 16, 2026, gives us an alarming answer: the powers still know how to prevent total collapse, but they do not always know how to build a lasting order.
Modern diplomacy looks less and less like a peace table, more and more like a control room. We monitor the screens, lower the temperature here, avoid the explosion there, and negotiate a truce elsewhere. But no one seems really able to fix the machine. Perhaps this is the new world: not the end of the war, but its placing under permanent management.
