In recent years, one expression has repeatedly found its way into the speeches of Western leaders: the free world. Military action is taken to defend it. Sanctions are imposed in its name. Alliances are strengthened to protect it. The expression has been used with particular force in the context of Iran.
US President Donald Trump and Secretary of Defence Pete Hegseth, for example, have described Iran as a threat to ‘the United States and the free world.’ Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has also used similar language in defending Israel’s military action against Iran.
Whether one agrees with these policies is not the issue here. What deserves attention is the justification. Why is military action presented as defending the ‘free world’? Who exactly is this free world? Most importantly, who has the authority to define it and speak in its name? These are not simply questions of semantics.
In international politics, words can confer legitimacy. Calling an action a defence of the ‘free world’ gives it a moral meaning that surpasses the immediate interests of the state taking that action.
Let us try to understand what exactly the ‘free world’ is.
There is no formal membership list. Unlike the United Nations, the EU or the G20, the ‘free world’ has no charter, treaty or agreed institutional structure. No international body determines who belongs to it, and international law does not recognise it as a category. It exists principally as a political expression.
Broadly, it has come to refer to liberal democracies in North America, Western Europe, parts of East Asia and the Pacific, together with their close strategic partners. NATO and the G7 are sometimes regarded as part of its institutional core. But neither organisation is synonymous with the ‘free world,’ nor has either been given authority to define it.
That raises the most important question: who gave anyone the authority to define the ‘free world’ for the rest of the world?
The expression did not emerge by accident. It acquired its political meaning during the Cold War, when the international system was divided between two rival ideological camps. Western leaders used ‘the free world’ to describe the non-communist side of that divide and to distinguish it from the Soviet bloc.
The concept served a clear purpose. It was not simply a description of political systems; it was also a means of mobilising political, economic and military support. US strategic documents of the period explicitly referred to strengthening the ‘free world’ against the Soviet Union.
Even then, there was a contradiction. The ‘free world’ was never made up exclusively of fully democratic states. Western powers were prepared to work with governments that did not meet democratic standards when their strategic interests required it. The concept, therefore, contained both an ideal and a tactical calculation.
The Cold War ended in 1991, but the phrase survived. Its original opponent disappeared, yet its political usefulness did not.
If ‘free world’ were an objective category, its definition should be reasonably clear. Membership might be based on measurable standards: free elections, political rights, freedom of expression, judicial independence, respect for human rights and the rule of law.
But international politics does not necessarily work that way. Countries with serious democratic shortcomings have at times been treated as important partners of the Western camp. Countries that disagree with Western powers on particular issues do not thereby cease to be part of the ‘free world.’ This suggests that the term is not simply a description of political freedom. It is also a political construct. And political constructs are determined by power.
Who does not know that countries with the greatest economic, military and diplomatic influence have greater ability to shape international debate? When powerful states repeatedly describe themselves and their allies as the ‘free world,’ the phrase acquires an authority that it does not possess under international law.
This does not mean that the countries using the term have no legitimate security concerns, or that the threats they identify are necessarily imaginary. The question is different: does having legitimate security interests give a state the authority to describe its actions as defending the ‘free world’ as a whole? That authority has never been formally granted.
The political usefulness of the phrase becomes clearer when we consider what it does. Imagine a government saying: We are acting to protect our national security and vital interests. That prompts a debate about whether those interests are genuine, whether the proposed measures are indispensable and proportionate, and whether there are alternative means of achieving the same objective.
Now change the language: We are acting to defend the free world. The nature of the debate changes. The issue is no longer just strategic; it turns into moral. The action is presented as a part of the larger struggle between the ‘free world’ and its ‘enemies.’
This is the power of political language. The phrase has the ability to transform a national interest into a collective interest, a military operation into a defence of shared values, and a geopolitical struggle into a moral cause. It suggests that the action serves the interests of a community beyond the state that takes it. But who decides that the interests of one country represent the interests of the ‘free world’? And who speaks for those countries that may disagree? These questions are particularly important when military force is involved.
To me, there is another difficulty. If freedom is universal, why should it belong to a particular geopolitical group? Democracy, human rights, liberty and the rule of law are not Western property. They are not the exclusive inheritance of North America or Europe. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights speaks in universal terms. Human dignity does not depend on membership in a military alliance or association with a particular power.
Yet the expression the ‘free world’ can create the impression that freedom belongs primarily to a particular community of states. This is especially important for countries across Asia, Africa and Latin America. Many are democracies or aspire to democratic institutions. They generally support human rights and international law. Yet many hesitate to describe themselves as members of the ‘free world.’
Does this mean that the Global South does not embrace freedom? Absolutely. But there is no indication whatsoever that the Global South has anything to do with these so-called actions to protect the ‘free world’. So, the rhetorical use of this notion simply means that freedom and geopolitical alignment are not the same thing. That distinction is vital.
The credibility of the concept is further challenged by developments within the countries that have traditionally presented themselves as its leaders. The post-Cold War liberal order was built around open markets, growing trade, multilateral cooperation and international institutions. Today, protectionism and economic nationalism are increasingly prominent.
Trade barriers have returned. Immigration has become more politically controversial. International agreements are being abandoned more readily. For example, the ‘America First’ policy of President Trump has given powerful political expression to the idea that national interests should come before broader international commitments.
Similar nationalist currents are visible elsewhere. This creates an uncomfortable paradox: the language of the ‘free world’ is often used to defend a common international order, while some of its principal advocates increasingly pursue policies based on national interest first, sometimes at odds with a rules-based international order and the notion of ‘free world’.
The question is even more relevant as the world turns increasingly multipolar. China, India, Russia, Brazil, the Gulf states and many middle powers are pursuing increasingly independent strategies. Much of the Global South is unwilling to choose permanently between competing centres of power.
The problem is not that the ‘free world’ has become too broad or too vague. It is that it was never an objectively defined community in the first place. As mentioned earlier, it was created in a particular historical setting, shaped by strategic interests and sustained through political language. Its meaning has changed with the international balance of power.
That does not make the values associated with it false. Freedom is real. Democracy matters. Human rights matter. The rule of law matters. But these universal values should not be confused with the political claim that a particular group of states constitutes the ‘free world.’ Nor should the phrase become a blanket justification for military action, sanctions or other forms of state power. Military action should be judged by international law, necessity, proportionality and consequences. Sanctions should be examined for their legality and humanitarian consequences.
None of these questions becomes unnecessary simply because an action is described as defending the ‘free world.’ Indeed, they become more necessary. The world needs the defence of human rights, the rule of law and fundamental freedoms. It needs international order. But it also needs humility about who has the authority to define universal values and to act on behalf of others.
If the ‘free world’ means a group of powerful states deciding which countries belong to it and which threats endanger it, then we should be cautious. The question is whether any nation – or any group of nations – can legitimately claim to define freedom for everyone else.
If freedom is truly universal, no country owns it. No alliance monopolizes it. No government speaks exclusively on its behalf. That is not an argument against freedom. It is an argument for taking freedom seriously.
The author is a Senior Research Fellow, International Relations, Dhaka University and a former Ambassador and Secretary to the Government.
