President Catherine Connolly’s first overseas speech as head of state landed like a diplomatic thunderclap in Brussels, warning that the world is edging toward a dangerous revival of “might makes right” where power, not principle, dictates international order. Speaking before the European Parliament on April 17, 2026, Connolly framed her maiden foreign trip not as a ceremonial gesture but as an urgent intervention—calling on democracies to recommit to multilateralism before the erosion of norms becomes irreversible. Her words, delivered with the gravitas of someone who has spent decades navigating the fault lines between idealism and realpolitik, struck a nerve across capitals still reeling from the shockwaves of renewed great-power competition.
This wasn’t just another presidential address. It was a deliberate attempt to reframe the narrative around Ireland’s renewed global engagement—a small nation punching above its weight not through military muscle, but through moral authority and institutional credibility. Connolly, a former human rights lawyer turned politician, has consistently positioned Ireland as a bridge-builder in fractured times. Yet her warning carries added weight given the timing: her speech came just days after the U.S. Administration announced a 15% cut to its State Department diplomacy budget, and amid growing concerns that China and Russia are testing the limits of existing security architectures in the Indo-Pacific and Eastern Europe.
The “might is right” warning echoes historical inflection points where the collapse of collective security led to catastrophe. Historians point to the 1930s, when the failure of the League of Nations to check aggression in Manchuria and Ethiopia paved the way for broader conflict. Today, parallels are being drawn not to justify alarmism, but to highlight how incremental norm erosion—through cyber aggression, economic coercion, and selective disregard for international rulings—can accumulate into systemic breakdown. As Dr. Emma Lynch, professor of international relations at Trinity College Dublin, noted in a recent interview:
“We’re not seeing a return to 1938-style appeasement, but rather a slow-motion unraveling of the post-1945 order. What’s new is how technology accelerates the pace—disinformation campaigns can destabilize elections in weeks, whereas legal challenges to maritime claims get bogged down in decades-long proceedings.”
Connolly’s emphasis on diplomacy as a tool of resilience aligns with broader trends in middle-power statecraft. Nations like Canada, Norway, and Singapore have long relied on soft power and coalition-building to punch above their weight. But Ireland’s position is unique: as the only English-speaking common-law jurisdiction in the Eurozone, it serves as a critical node for U.S.-EU dialogue, particularly on tech regulation and data governance. The president’s visit to Brussels included closed-door meetings with European Commission officials on strengthening the EU-U.S. Data Privacy Framework—a deal currently under strain after the Court of Justice of the European Union raised fresh concerns about U.S. Surveillance practices in Schrems II and its follow-up rulings.
Yet beneath the idealism lies a hard calculation. Ireland’s economy remains deeply intertwined with multinational corporations, particularly U.S. Tech giants that employ over 140,000 people directly and indirectly across the country. Any perceived shift toward confrontational foreign policy risks triggering capital flight or reputational damage. Still, Connolly appears to be betting that Ireland’s long-term prosperity depends not on tax competitiveness alone, but on being seen as a stable, rules-based hub in an increasingly volatile world. As former Central Bank governor Gabriel Makhlouf warned in a 2024 address:
“If global firms initiate to question whether Ireland can uphold the rule of law consistently—not just in corporate courts, but in its foreign policy stance—then the foundations of our economic model start to shake.”
The president’s trip also underscored a quiet shift in how smaller states are adapting to multipolarity. Rather than choosing between Washington and Beijing, Dublin is pursuing what analysts call “strategic autonomy through multilateralism”—deepening ties with the EU while maintaining constructive engagement with the U.S. And emerging powers. This was evident in her side meeting with ASEAN representatives, where she advocated for a rules-based approach to maritime disputes in the South China Sea, a region where over $3 trillion in annual trade passes through waters claimed by multiple nations.
Critics argue that such moral posturing risks irrelevance in a world where hard power still dominates. But Connolly’s approach may be less about changing minds and more about preserving options. By positioning Ireland as a credible arbiter in disputes—offering mediation services, hosting backchannel talks, or leading fact-finding missions—she is betting that trust, once earned, becomes a form of influence. It’s a long game, but one that aligns with Ireland’s historical identity as a nation shaped by diaspora, negotiation, and survival.
As the world watches whether the “might is right” warning becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy or a rallying cry for renewal, one thing is clear: the stakes extend far beyond policy papers. They touch on whether the next generation will inherit a system where disputes are settled in courts and councils—or on battlefields and balance sheets. For now, Connolly has thrown down a marker. The question is whether enough leaders will pick it up.
