This chapter examines the institutional, economic, cultural, and historical contexts that shaped musical exchange between fascist Italy and Nazi Germany. As a form of soft power that projected both the Axis alliance and its underlying rivalry, cultural diplomacy in realms such as opera, touring, and international festivals generated performative displays of unity and opportunities for propaganda that extended beyond live audiences. Both regimes mobilised the musical canon to assert cultural dominance, with Germany emphasising composers such as Mozart and Wagner while Italy highlighted Verdi, Puccini and an openness to novelty that distinguished it from the German skepticism of modernism. Composers of new music likewise became symbolic assets in transnational exchange, and institutional frameworks for contemporary music became new venues in which to compete for cultural hegemony. Despite differences in policy and aesthetics and growing wartime constraints, Italy and Germany sought to position themselves at the centre of a new European cultural order, a diplomatic dynamic with intriguing continuities into the Cold War.

Following the breakup of the Soviet Union, Russia has aspired to remain a major power in international relations. Until the mid-2000s, the country’s leaders sought to revive its great power status in partnership with Western nations. Since the mid-2000s, Russia has moved in the direction of challenging Western global priorities by stressing values of national sovereignty and patriotism. More recently, Russia has sought to establish areas of mutual noninterference in relations with the West. In 2022, this approach resulted in Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and the escalation of tensions and confrontation with the United States and NATO. Outside the West, Moscow has aspired to take advantage of global economic and geopolitical opportunities. The chapter reviews the main developments in Russian foreign policy since 1991, giving an overview of the country’s relations with Western and non-Western countries.

The start of the Cold War left Thailand and Cambodia in different places, with Bangkok firmly planted in an anticommunist alliance with the US, and Cambodia caught in the confluence of an ideological conflict in its own backyard. As the US entered its “unipolar moment” and China slowly emerged from its imposed isolation, Thailand and Cambodia have altered their respective foreign policies. This chapter, employing a historical perspective, charts the course of Thai and Khmer foreign policy across three distinct periods: the turbulent Cold War era when Phnom Penh and Bangkok struggled amid perceived internal and external threats, the post-Vietnamese occupation era of Cambodia and an era of some democratization in Thailand between 1980 and 2000 and an era of authoritarian political consolidation in both countries during 2000–2014, and the current era, when a still-fragile Thai government with strong linkages to China governs Bangkok and power in Cambodia has been transferred to Hun Manet. Broadly, this chapter argues that the waning influence of the US has strengthened China’s ties to both countries.

China’s relationship with Australia is arguably one of its most challenging. While not an obvious strategic threat to China, Australia’s very close military ties with the United States, its hosting of American military assets, and its role as a significant regional power mean that Australia cannot be ignored or bullied into changing its ways. On the contrary, the task for China is to try and change the nature of the debate within Australia about the latter’s foreign and security policies in particular, as well the roles of China and the US in the region more generally. This chapter argues that this remains a formidable challenge, and one China has often not handled well, despite the importance of the bilateral economic relationship for both countries. There are, however, unambiguous signs of improvement in the relationship, albeit from a low base. Whether this can be successfully built upon by both sides given their respective historical concerns remains uncertain.

I theorize that a state’s foreign policy objectives depend on a combination of its intrinsic foreign policy motives—which I call a principle—and its historical context. States can prioritize different principles, such as nationalism, security, or prestige. Depending on the principle, the specific issues a state cares about most depend on its historical context. For example, states intrinsically motivated by nationalist projects prioritize territories they historically controlled, whereas status seekers may prioritize colonies. I develop a structured way to study how an observer’s threat perceptions form and change when a rival holds these more complex preferences and the observer has some information about the rival’s historical context. I show that rationalist threat perceptions change unevenly in response to a rival’s costly military actions through a novel mechanism that I call “qualitative inferences.” This mechanism is qualitative because states rely on historical information about how a rival’s specific demands serve particular principles (e.g., Hitler’s demand for Austria held historical significance, whereas Uganda would not), rather than on the scope of those demands or rates of militarization (e.g., 1/2, not 3/4, of Austria).

Every serious analyst of Britain’s role in global politics understood that the country’s decision to leave the European Union would have a significant – perhaps fundamental – effect on its standing in the wider world and the way it would henceforth pursue its foreign, defence and security policies. It was the biggest strategic reorientation in Britain’s external relations for over half a century; a shift for which the country was completely unprepared and in which the policy establishment was explicitly prevented from doing any contingency planning. With the shock of the Brexit decision in 2016, the prospects for British foreign affairs seemed to range from the excitingly uncertain to the simply dire. In the event, Britain’s standing in the world has both risen and sunk in the decade since, driven by challenges, events and responses only peripherally connected to Brexit issues as they arose at the time. ‘Brexit Britain’ certainly figures in the way the country is perceived internationally, but those perceptions are overlaid by more imperative judgements about how the country now positions itself in response to more fundamental challenges than were ever envisaged in Brexit debates at the time.

This chapter examines the distribution of foreign affairs powers, arguing that the Constitution’s text sufficiently allocates authority between Congress and the President without requiring unenumerated or inherent presidential powers. It rejects both formalist claims of a residual executive power and functionalist assertions of necessity-driven authority, asserting that the President’s powers, such as appointing ambassadors and treatymaking, cover essential functions like managing international relations. Historical episodes, including Washington’s Neutrality Proclamation and the Monroe Doctrine, illustrate that presidential actions rely on enumerated powers, not a broad policy-setting prerogative. The chapter argues the President does not have unilateral or exclusive authority to recognize foreign governments or to terminate treaties. Treaties are necessary for long-term international obligations and to bind state courts under Article VI, but executive agreements are constitutional if Congress has delegated the relevant authority to the President. While Congress holds most foreign affairs powers, the President’s role is robust but constrained by the Constitution’s formal structure. This formalist approach ensures a balanced separation of powers in foreign affairs.

The biggest problem that the vote threw up was precisely the lack of clarity about what would come next; what unexpected surprises were to come next? What would the UK’s departure mean for Britain and for the European Union; what, indeed, would it mean for countries in other parts of the world? Would Brexit start a domino effect in Europe; might it even start a chain reaction elsewhere too, as countries stepped back from international commitments and out of regional or global institutions – and turned their backs on former partners and allies? In the days after the vote, press commentaries around the world began to harden. On 24 June 2016, for example, the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs noted that it respected the results and hoped for early agreements between London and Brussels to help clear up uncertainty. Three weeks later, voices in Beijing had a better grasp on what had happened – and in particular realised that the promises given by Brexit’s chief cheerleaders were hopelessly naïve at best and downright dissimulations at worst.

The concluding chapter translates the book’s theoretical insights and empirical findings into concrete implications for both scholarship and policy practice. It challenges three persistent myths about arms control: that agreements emerge from good relations between states, that past violations preclude future cooperation, and that agreements serve as rewards for good behavior. Drawing on the book’s analysis of political volatility, uncertainty, and agreement information provisions, the chapter develops specific recommendations for when policymakers should pursue agreements and what forms they should take. Rather than always pursuing incremental steps or maximum verification, practitioners should calibrate monitoring provisions to match their prior expectations about adversaries’ incentives. The chapter also examines how emerging technologies affect prospects for arms control, arguing that innovations in monitoring capabilities have countervailing effects – some reduce the costs of verification while others create new vulnerabilities. These insights are especially relevant as states confront contemporary challenges including great power competition to autonomous weapons and AI systems. For scholars, the chapter outlines new research directions on agreement effectiveness, institutional design, and the intersection of technology and security cooperation. The findings suggest that while arms control remains a vital foreign policy tool, its successful application requires careful attention to political conditions and strategic trade-offs.

Chapter 6 considers the future of US–ICC relations. Though this is a speculative exercise, it is possible to weigh the factors that might encourage or discourage a thaw in American hostility toward the Court. Even though there are many reasons to expect the contentious relationship to continue, I offer some reasons for cautious optimism about future US–ICC relations. I also outline practical steps the US can take to assist the Court – and realize its own foreign policy goals in the process – even if the US never joins the ICC.

This chapter explores how technocratic elites in the five NATO host nations respond to the multiple pressures surrounding nuclear sharing. Based on original interview data, it analyses how these elites perceive the purpose of hosting nuclear weapons, assess the legitimacy of various domestic and international audiences, and navigate interactions with diverse stakeholders. The chapter also examines national strategic documents and official government communications directed at the public, parliament, and civil society regarding nuclear sharing. Additionally, it investigates how elites articulate and defend nuclear sharing in international settings, particularly in the context of an increasingly adversarial global environment.