In Rio de Janeiro's Itamaraty Palace, Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva raised a quiet toast. There was no anti-American rhetoric, no thunderous declarations - just a call for "cooperation without coercion"
Monday, September 15, 2025
By Imran Khalid
In Rio de Janeiro's Itamaraty Palace, Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva raised a quiet toast. There was no anti-American rhetoric, no thunderous declarations - just a call for "cooperation without coercion." As BRICS leaders gathered for their July 6-7, 2025, summit, the message was unmistakable: this was not about replacing the United States, but about creating space from it.
In President Trump's second term, global diplomacy is not erupting into confrontation. It's slipping into something quieter, more deliberate and perhaps more enduring - strategic non-alignment.
This isn't the return of Cold War rivalry. It's the rise of what policymakers are calling multi-alignment - or more pointedly, active non-alignment. From Brasília to Jakarta, Ankara to Nairobi, governments are no longer organizing their foreign policy around loyalty. They're organizing it around leverage.
Rather than form bloc-based alternatives or pledge allegiance to rival powers, these states are playing the field - engaging Washington where useful, Beijing where strategic, and building new horizontal alliances among themselves. It's not anti-Americanism. It's strategic flexibility.
The recent BRICS summit in Rio de Janeiro offered a quiet, elegant demonstration. While some expected fireworks or a bold anti-Western manifesto, the bloc instead issued the "Rio de Janeiro Declaration," a 31-page document calling for reform of UN and Bretton Woods institutions, ethical AI governance, and increased climate finance, while condemning attacks on Iran and supporting a Gaza ceasefire. The declaration noticeably steered clear of anti-U.S. rhetoric.
Lula, who hosted the summit, clarified the bloc's ethos: BRICS, he argued, is not a tool of confrontation but a platform for reform, drawing inspiration from the 1955 Bandung Conference. Lula emphasized "equidistance" between major powers and reaffirmed Brazil's non-aligned posture.
Brazil's behavior reflected this balancing act. While hosting China, Russia, and expanding BRICS membership to include Egypt, Ethiopia, Indonesia, Iran and the UAE (with Saudi Arabia as a partner), it resisted Trump's tariff demands without escalating retaliation. India's posture echoes this ambivalence. Prime Minister Narendra Modi's government continues to deepen defense cooperation with Washington but also embraced chairmanship of the 2026 BRICS summit, advocating a "humanity first" approach, and bolstered trade with China and the UAE, including a pledge to triple bilateral trade with Brazil. New Delhi now defines its foreign policy as "issue-based engagement" - hedging pragmatically without ideological commitment.
Turkey offers yet another illustration. While remaining a NATO member and participating in U.S. military procurement, Ankara sent Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan to Rio, affirming Turkey's interest in deeper BRICS collaboration. Turkish officials frame their diplomacy as "multi-directional," building influence from Brussels to Baku without fixed allegiance.
This is no longer anecdotal. According to the Munich Security Report 2025, 57 percent of surveyed Global South policymakers now describe their diplomacy as "multi-aligned" - a 21-point increase since 2020. These governments are not rejecting the U.S. or embracing its rivals. They're diversifying, recalibrating and insulating their interests.
Why now? The answer lies in the lived reality of Trump's second term. His foreign policy decisions have triggered uncertainty, friction and strategic de-risking - even among long-standing allies.
First, Trump withdrew the United States from the Paris climate agreement on his first day in office. Citing unfair burdens on American industry, the move sent shockwaves through global climate diplomacy - halting billions in climate finance and stalling joint decarbonization frameworks. In response, BRICS called for $300 billion annually by 2035 from developed nations to support Global South climate goals.
Second, his administration reinstated Section 232 tariffs on steel and aluminum imports from 12 countries, including Brazil, South Africa, India and the European Union. By April, tariff rates ranged between 25 percent and 35 percent, prompting diplomatic protests and early signs of trade retaliation.
Third, Trump halted U.S. contributions to the World Bank's clean energy lending platform, suspending America's role in shaping development finance norms and accelerating alternatives among Global South states.
Fourth, he froze diplomatic aid to non-NATO countries, labeling them "security freeloaders" under his transactional doctrine. Governments in Africa, Southeast Asia and Latin America responded by pivoting toward regional solutions and partnerships.
Fifth - and perhaps most destabilizing - has been Trump's tariff strategy itself. On July 6, he announced a 10 percent tariff on all BRICS imports, effective Aug. 1, with threats of escalation to 25 percent to 40 percent if bilateral deals fail, and 100 percent tariffs if BRICS nations reduce dollar usage. A 50 percent tariff was specifically imposed on Brazil, citing its hosting of the summit and alleged "attacks" on U.S. tech firms. The July 9 deadline for revised trade protocols, branded "Tariff D-Day," was extended to Aug. 1, prompting emergency negotiations and capital flight.
According to recent IMF estimates, foreign direct investment inflows to the U.S. declined 6.1 percent in the first quarter of 2025. Meanwhile, Vietnam, Japan and Mexico initiated regional currency talks and trade hedging mechanisms to reduce exposure to U.S. sanctions.
In response, Global South nations are increasingly turning to each other - not out of hostility toward the U.S., but out of necessity. Kenya and India launched a joint climate credit platform.
Mexico and Colombia expanded investment agreements with China and the UAE, bypassing dollar-clearing systems. China and Vietnam agreed to advance railway cooperation, while China and the United Arab Emirates signaled investments in Brazil's Tropical Forests Forever Facility. The BRICS Multilateral Guarantee mechanism, launched by the New Development Bank, aims to boost infrastructure and climate investments.
Even traditional Western partners are rethinking their footing. Germany's foreign office, in an internal memo, warned that Washington's offer of partnership is shrinking. France convened a strategic sovereignty dialogue with Brazil and Egypt. These aren't alliances dissolving. They're alliances mutating.
Testimony before the U.S. Senate Foreign Relations Committee this spring further validated these trends. Joseph Ledford, senior fellow at the Hoover Institution, declared: "Washington's reliance on loyalty has outpaced its offering of leadership."
That's the crux of this new era: strategic autonomy isn't ideological. It's adaptive. Governments are resisting dependency, not relationships. They're refusing exclusivity - not engagement.
None of this amounts to an anti-American bloc. The Global South doesn't want confrontation. It wants co-authorship. The BRICS expansion - now representing 45 percent of global population and 35 percent of GDP - is not a Cold War redux. It's a forum for pluralism, not polarity.
And that presents an opportunity. For the U.S., the challenge is not competition. It's relevance. If Washington can embrace multipolar diplomacy - grounded in mutual respect and institutional reform - it still holds the tools for leadership. But if it continues to demand allegiance while offering volatility, it risks being sidelined not by adversaries, but by indifference.
In Trump's second term, America still matters. But increasingly, the world no longer waits. The U.S. can still lead, but only by listening. It must join the world's new diplomatic table - not demand to own it.
Imran Khalid is a physician and has a master's degree in international relations.
The Hill