A Seat at the Top? A Historical Appraisal of Brazil’s Case for the UN Security Council

Introduction

Over the last few years, the ever more significant impact of emerging powers in global governance has been receiving increased attention from scholars and practitioners alike (Hurrell, 2006; Khaler, 2013; Narlikar, 2010; Stuenkel, 2016). Discussions on the prospects for reforming the United Nations, particular of its Security Council, are critical in this regard. UN reform has regularly been debated within the academic community, the media, and public opinion worldwide. Studies have been dedicated to scrutinize variables of the reform process and the stakes at play (Bourantonis, 2007; Luck, 2006; Sievers & Daws, 2014). Even if at times meaningful progress in negotiations may barely be noticeable, the call for reform remains on the international agenda and it is unlikely to disappear anytime soon.

As the largest country in South America, Brazil seems to present an intriguing case study for observers seeking to understand why it historically has sought to play a greater role in international institutions and in the world at large (Burges, 2017; Gardini, 2016; Kenkel & Cunliffe, 2016; Mares & Trinkunas, 2016; Stuenkel & Taylor, 2015). The condition of being a middle or regional power (however defined) does not imply that the country concerned will consistently pursue policies aimed at filling high-profile positions at the UN. ¹ A given state, perceived as having regional interests or relative influence over its neighbors, may not necessarily display any particular desire to exert a major role either in multilateral forums or in global affairs. However, and this is in line with our overall argument, despite occasional detachment here and there, Brazil’s long-standing aspirations to influence on the global stage are expected to continue, regardless of changing moods and circumstances at a given time.

What conclusions can be drawn from the historical record to better understand the Brazilian case? This article will discuss three different situations: the first failed attempt by Brazil to gain a permanent seat on the Council of the League of Nations in 1926, the possibility that Brazil could have been included as the “sixth permanent member” of the Security Council when the United Nations was created in 1945, and the Brazilian candidacy from the 1990s to the present day. Although there are separate accounts dealing with each of these occasions (Baracuhy, 2005; Brigido, 2010; dos Santos, 1996; Garcia, 2000, 2012; Leuchars, 2001; Vargas, 2011), no broad attempt at comparing them has hitherto been done.

The analysis to be undertaken is both intrastate and diachronic. By combining intranational and intertemporal variables, we have relied on Lijphart’s suggestion that “comparability can be enhanced by focusing on intranation instead of international comparisons . . . The advantage of intra-unit comparison is that inter-unit differences can be held constant” (Lijphart, 1971, p. 689). Several methodological tools were applied in this article to compare the Brazilian bids over time, such as interpretive analysis, process tracing, and comparative–historical methods. In this process, we have stressed the influence of different variables in the evolution of both domestic and international contexts, the behavior of supporters and opponents of Brazil’s claims, as well as the changing impact of official discourse from governmental authorities.

Recent developments in the field of comparative–historical methods brought about a number of tools to enhance methodological features of small-case studies (Mahoney, 2007; Mahoney et al., 2009). However, the use of such methods should be viewed on a per-case basis and not necessarily as an overarching recommendation. Although acknowledging the importance of these efforts to add more rigor to the social sciences, in our view, scientific models that apply logical and counterfactual reasoning should not lead us to rule out other history-based methods. This article draws mainly from a narrative historical approach, in which generalizations are secondary, and sensu stricto casual relations are not categorically present all the time.

A short summary of each period is provided in the following three sections, so that the reader unfamiliar with the details may engage in the discussion that follows in the final section. It is not our goal to take issue with the existing literature on the subject, but rather to analyze, in a comparative manner, possible similarities and contrasts in terms of Brazilian diplomatic strategy. By taking all these three historical periods together, we believe that some lessons could be learned to improve our grasp of how specifically Brazil has been acting on ongoing multilateral efforts toward Security Council reform.

The Early Background: Brazil in the League of Nations

Brazil’s contribution during the First World War was only marginal, but it allowed the country to attend the 1919 Peace Conference as one of the belligerent allied powers. The head of the Brazilian delegation in Paris, Senator Epitacio Pessoa, participated in the works of the committee in charge of drafting the Covenant of the League of Nations. By dint of the decisive support from the President of the United States, Woodrow Wilson, Brazil was appointed as a temporary member of the Executive Council of the newly established organization. Article 4 of the Covenant stated that the Council would consist of permanent representatives of the Principal Allied and Associated Powers (United States, Britain, France, Italy, and Japan), along with nonpermanent representatives of four other member states, to be selected by the Assembly from time to time. Before this procedure had been put into place, the Covenant named four countries to serve as Council members: Belgium, Brazil, Greece, and Spain.

By 1920, as the United States rebuffed the Treaty of Versailles and decided not to join the League, for a while Brazil became the only remaining country of the Americas to have a seat on the Council. Taking advantage of this unexpected situation, during the first formal meeting of the Council, on January 16, 1920, the Brazilian representative, Gastão da Cunha, unadvisedly claimed to have been granted an “implicit mandate,” which had “authorized” him to be the “spokesman of the Pan-American conscience.” ² More than a rhetorical device, the “representation of the American continent” was an expedient later used time and again by other Brazilian delegates in Geneva to boost their position in the Council.

There was a growing competition for Council seats among small states. In 1922, the Assembly decided to create two additional 3-year temporary seats, with no reelection. Member states should take some guiding principles into account in the elections for these nonrenewable seats, such as geographic divisions, “ethnic families” of states, religious traditions, types of civilizations, and main sources of wealth (Scelle, 1927, pp. 17-18). Worried about restrictive measures ruling out reelection of nonpermanent members, the new Brazilian representative, Domicio da Gama, recommended that his government should “work diplomatically” for a permanent seat on the Council. ³ This was the first time the idea was seriously introduced among Brazilian authorities. It must be stressed that the administration of President Pessoa (1919-1922) had no established policy specifically aimed at obtaining a permanent seat. Pessoa’s low-profile foreign policy was one of satisfaction with Brazil’s place in the post-Versailles world, particularly in Geneva (Garcia, 2006).

It was under the administration of Artur Bernardes (1922-1926) that the candidacy at the League of Nations became a major goal for Brazilian diplomacy, despite clear signs of domestic political instability and rising tensions among the oligarchic elites of the Old Republic (1889-1930). Bernardes was notorious for his autocratic and headstrong personality. The president asked the unexperienced journalist Felix Pacheco to head Itamaraty, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Both Bernardes and Pacheco had a limited perception of the subtleties behind multilateral diplomacy. In the beginning, domestic political considerations were secondary and the main objective at the League was simply to secure that Brazil would continue in the Council, where it enjoyed status without incurring in too high costs. Being constrained to leave the Council was anticipated in Rio as a capitis diminutio, which could negatively affect the country’s international prestige.

In 1923, Afranio de Melo Franco, a politician from Minas Gerais who was appointed to Geneva by Bernardes, added a twist to Cunha’s “representation of the American continent” by suggesting that Brazil should temporarily fill the seat reserved for the United States:

We want neither to increase the number of Council members nor to amend the Covenant. We are sure the Covenant reserved a place for America—a place we acknowledge belongs to the US, . . . but a place we understand must be filled by us while the absence of that country remains. ⁴

To bolster the campaign, a permanent delegation to the League was created in March 1924, headed by Melo Franco with ambassadorial rank. He was given instructions to further promote and coordinate actions to amass support for Brazil as a permanent member, joining forces whenever possible with Spain, which also had similar ambitions. The permanent delegation should be made “the leading center of information and propaganda for the country in Europe.” ⁵

In the meantime, on October 16, 1925, in the Swiss city of Locarno, European leaders concluded negotiations over a number of issues to settle border controversies and find a rightful place for Germany in the postwar order. Although settled completely outside the League of Nations, the Locarno arrangement was attached to the League system by means of Germany’s accession to the Council. In a sort of fait accompli, member states of the League were kindly asked to “collaborate loyally and efficiently,” as though their obligations to the Covenant had been taken care of at Locarno (Scelle, 1927, p. 24). On February 8, 1926, the German government formally requested admission to the League and an extraordinary session of the Assembly was scheduled in March. However, Poland’s announcement that it also sought a permanent seat on the Council complicated matters. The Polish claim (quietly supported by France) was vehemently opposed by the German Chancellor, Hans Luther, who publicly declared that Germany should enter the Council alone, as agreed in Locarno. Brazil expressed its indignation with Germany’s declaration. Pacheco found Luther’s attitude “unjustifiable” because its consequence was to block Brazil as well. He consulted Melo Franco about the possibility of vetoing Germany (as the decisions of the Council required unanimity, in practice, even temporary members had veto power). But Melo Franco dismissed the idea, because this would mean “the demise of the Locarno Treaties” and “we would expose ourselves to a very unpleasant situation and to condemnation by universal opinion if we ever played this hateful role.” ⁶ He was to be overruled.

When the extraordinary Assembly began on March 8, 1926, deliberations among European leaders were kept confidential and restricted to the Locarno powers. The diplomatic row centered on Germany, Poland, and their respective backers. Delegations also learned of further claims by Spain, Belgium, China, and Persia. On March 12, all Council members hinted their willingness to vote in favor of Germany, except Brazil and Spain, which were urged to postpone their candidacies until a later time. Melo Franco, nonetheless, stated that Brazil would vote against Germany’s entry as a permanent member. Vigorously criticized by other delegations, the Brazilian ambassador sent a cable to Bernardes, in which he unsuccessfully tried to persuade the president to change his mind: “I have put a lot of hard work and my soul in the defense of our rights, but given the deadlock we are in, I consider it a fatal mistake to take responsibility for the veto.” The emotional appeal failed to convince Bernardes, who saw the whole episode in terms of “national dignity.” He embarked on a course of action, which he thought as a way “to win or not to lose.” ⁷

On March 16, Melo Franco formally announced his veto on Germany. He disputed allegations that Brazil had been motivated by selfish interest or national pride, and argued that Locarno should enter the framework of the League, not the other way around (de Macedo Soares, 1927). Speeches from other delegations followed, blaming Brazil for the fiasco of the extraordinary Assembly. Brazil came out as the perfect scapegoat, even though, on closer inspection, it had not initiated the crisis. The Locarno 1926 imbroglio was a purely European affair, sparked by Poland’s candidacy, a French ally. Czechoslovakia and Sweden had offered to abdicate their seats to reach a compromise, but there was also a dispute within the Little Entente between Romania and Yugoslavia to take the Czech place, not to mention the Netherlands’s candidacy, backed by pro-Germany states. According to Melo Franco, had Brazil withdrawn its veto, “this entire conundrum would go public and the Assembly might still be waiting for an outcome.” ⁸ Domestic praise granted an ephemeral and artificial moment of popularity to Bernardes’ troubled government, but Brazilians were largely unaware of the backlash in Geneva and around the world. At the end of the day, as Leuchars (2001) put it, Brazil’s unyielding attitude helped to disarm a deeper conflict between Germany and its political rivals and provided a convenient cooling-off period, because it “had unwittingly taken the blame for the crisis onto its own shoulders, where it did not wholly belong, and had thus prevented a serious confrontation between the European powers” (p. 138).

A special committee later came up with a proposal to increase the number of nonpermanent members in the Council, from six to nine, to be elected by the Assembly as soon as possible. Three additional seats were meant to be “semipermanent,” with a 3-year term and the right of reelection. Only Germany was to be admitted as a permanent member. Accusing the organization of being controlled by the European great powers at the expense of the “American ideals” cherished by its founders, Brazil withdrew from the League of Nations on June 12, 1926. The decision was attributed mainly to Bernardes, who, in the words of the British ambassador at Rio, “neither had ever been out of Brazil nor had any experience of a nature to give him a broad outlook on the difficult and complicated problems of European politics.” ⁹

In a nutshell, problems of misperception and poor strategic decisions contributed to Brazil’s mismanagement of the crisis. The Brazilian veto against Germany was just another ingredient within a greater disagreement among European powers on how the Locarno Treaties should be implemented. After 6 months of appeasement and soul searching for a conciliatory solution, Germany was at last admitted to the League in September 1926. Under the leadership of Austen Chamberlain, Briand, and Stresemann, the organization entered a new phase of optimism concerning the role it could play in world politics, which unfortunately did not survive the Manchurian crisis, when the harsh reality of international rivalries in the 1930s began to undermine the League’s project (Walters, 1952).

The Founding of the United Nations: The Sixth Permanent Member?

The Second World War buried the ineffective League of Nations and, with the far-reaching turmoil it had provoked, paved the way for a second major experiment in international organization. Postwar political planning started early in the United States. From the outset, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR) nurtured the idea of establishing—as he called it—a “trusteeship of the powerful” (Hoopes & Brinkley, 1997, p. 46). Its main assumption was the pressing need to lay the primary responsibility for peace enforcement after the war on the victorious great powers. The U.S. president’s assessment was that weaker nations had no defense against aggression by stronger states, especially a Nazi-like threat. The Allies would win the war and the Axis countries be disarmed. By then, the Big Three (United States, Britain, and the Soviet Union) would undoubtedly be the most powerful and the only countries capable of providing security. With an eye toward the Asian front against Japan, Roosevelt added China to his list and made it the group of the Four Policemen. Small states, he believed, would have the protection they needed for years to come (Russell, 1958).

Roosevelt flirted with the suggestion of a Muslim state for the Security Council of the future United Nations. Such a proposal, however, was never formally put forward by the U.S. government. ¹⁰ In Latin America, the country best positioned to be one of the Policemen, if one day that choice had to be made, was Brazil. Certainly, the United States alone was fully capable of providing security for the Western Hemisphere, but it might be useful for Washington to have a staunch Latin American ally in the Council. The Brazilian collaboration with the Allies had been greatly appreciated by Roosevelt and his secretary of state, Cordell Hull, who considered Brazil as a model of a “good neighbor”—in contrast to neutral Argentina. In addition, including Brazil as a permanent member would be consistent with Roosevelt’s grand design for safeguarding postwar world peace by bringing in regional powers with specific weight in their geographic areas (Garcia, 2012).

At the 1944 Dumbarton Oaks Conference, the Four Policemen met behind a cloak of secrecy to discuss the main features of the postwar organization. The Big Three first met alone. Then, separated meetings took place between the Chinese and the U.S. and British delegations. China joined the negotiations, thanks to Roosevelt’s efforts to strengthen the Chongqing government with regard to the common enemy in the Pacific. Both Churchill and Stalin at first resisted the idea of having China at the same table on the grounds that it was too weak at the time, but acquiesced to U.S. demands on this point. Later, Britain succeeded in including France as a Security Council member as well.

On August 24, 1944, during a White House internal meeting, the possibility of adding Brazil as a permanent member was discussed. Anticipating resistance, Roosevelt expressed his understanding that the U.S. delegation could flag the issue of an additional permanent seat “in general terms,” but should not dwell on the matter for the time being. It would be better if only “informal references” were made to Brazil in the discussions (Hilderbrand, 1990, pp. 123-128). At the joint steering committee of Dumbarton Oaks, on August 28, the undersecretary of state, Edward Stettinius, following Roosevelt’s instructions, for the first time raised the question of Brazil—which, at this stage, had not been informed in any way of these maneuvers. He remarked that, later in the talks, his delegation might wish to propose a sixth permanent seat to accommodate one of the Latin American countries. ¹¹ The head of the Soviet delegation, Andrei Gromyko, asked whether Stettinius would have any specific country in mind. Having learned that maybe it could be Brazil, the Soviet side then asked when it should be included. Stettinius, worried that the debate was moving too far than initially expected, clarified that, in reality, his delegation was neither making a proposal nor suggesting any particular occasion for such an increase of permanent members. The British representative, Alexander Cadogan, said that if the number were higher than five permanent members, there would be “considerable confusion.” He promised to inform his government about it, but doubted that London contemplated such hypothesis (Dilks, 1972, pp. 653-654).

Following the meeting, Gromyko asked Stettinius whether his intention was to insert a reference to Brazil in the proposals to be approved at Dumbarton Oaks. Stettinius pointed out that there might be a clause recommending that one place should be reserved for France and another for a Latin American country. Gromyko emphasized that the Soviet delegation was in favor of limiting the permanent members to the four powers (China included) and to France. Stettinius would later write in his diary that it was “obvious” that the Soviets preferred only five permanent seats. On the same day, Stettinius met with Roosevelt and reported that both British and Soviet reactions had been “negative.” If the president wished to press the matter harder, now it would be “more difficult.” Roosevelt reluctantly agreed, but planned to keep his options open to resume the issue in the future with Churchill and Stalin before the world organization was effectively launched. ¹²

The U.S. delegation discussed the situation internally, and several advisors argued against the proposal of a sixth permanent member. The presence of Brazil would reopen the regional debate, they said, and could lead to pressure for the incorporation of smaller powers from other regions. Brazil was not a “great military power” and it would not become one in the near future, some of them demurred, possibly undermining the chief justification for picking permanent members, namely, that they were the war victors with greater responsibilities in peacetime. Roosevelt received a memorandum summing up these arguments and was persuaded not to push the Brazilian proposal any further. This allowed Stettinius to remove the topic from the negotiations at Dumbarton Oaks. Yet, the U.S. president insisted that the matter would remain “a card up his sleeve.” ¹³

When the conference ended, a draft of the Charter was sent to the other Allies for reactions and commentaries. On being informed of the proposals adopted at Dumbarton Oaks, a commission of experts was convened by the Brazilian acting foreign minister, Pedro Leão Velloso, in October 1944. As requested by President Getulio Vargas, the commission at Itamaraty should analyze the proposals and prepare a reply to the U.S. Department of State. Within the Brazilian government, there was skepticism about the design of the new world organization, with all its gaps and shortcomings. Some of the experts did not recommend that Brazil should take the initiative to claim a permanent seat on the Security Council. This position, they warned, would entail “huge financial, political and military responsibilities,” which were not in Brazil’s interest. Besides, they believed that the bid “would inevitably be rejected.” The mere fact of presenting it could end up in embarrassment, as “we would raise against us the susceptibilities of the other American Republics.” ¹⁴

There was relative consensus among Brazilian authorities that discretion was needed to grapple with such sensitive questions. Perhaps, for this very reason, Vargas avoided addressing the subject in public statements. Nevertheless, the president himself considered it an idea worth pursuing and would genuinely be pleased to see Brazil being recognized for its loyalty to the Allied cause. ¹⁵ It was decided, therefore, that Brazil’s claim was to be made explicit only in confidential, bilateral talks with the United States. Vargas gave his go-ahead for Itamaraty to request a permanent seat to Latin America, refraining from publicly stating that Brazil was a candidate for the vacancy.

Those who supported joining the Security Council held that Brazil deserved to be rewarded for its contribution to the war and for its territory, population, and special position in South America. The experience at the League of Nations was also remembered, as one of the members of the commission of experts noted, “I believe that a duty of consistency, of continuity, compels us to present that claim; because the reasons for which we stood almost twenty years ago, asking for a seat on the League’s Council, have not receded.” Some of the qualifications Brazil possessed, he wrote, included the following: the Brazilian military assistance to the war effort, the relevance of the country’s strategic position, the fact that it was the 10th largest nation of the world in terms of population, its economic development and massive quantities of unexploited raw materials, “not to mention the liberal, democratic, orderly tradition with which Brazil has always been dignified.” ¹⁶

But by December 1944, the original initiative from Roosevelt had already lost momentum. The U.S. embassy in Rio de Janeiro had received a cable from Stettinius with instructions to inform the local government that the United States would only support Brazil for a 2-year nonpermanent seat on the Security Council. ¹⁷ At the Yalta Conference, in February 1945, the Brazilian question was not discussed. When Stettinius paid a visit to Brazil as secretary of state, in March 1945, Vargas brought up the issue of the permanent seat only to hear from Stettinius that there had been “no change in the discussions on this point since Dumbarton Oaks” (Moura, 2012, pp. 164-165). After the sudden death of Roosevelt, on April 12, the political leverage that Brazil once enjoyed in Washington quickly vanished.

Following some crucial clarifications made at Yalta on the extension of the veto power, the 1945 San Francisco Conference did not change the Security Council’s permanent membership already settled at Dumbarton Oaks. Power dictated the choice under the most atypical circumstances—the ending of the bloodiest conflict in history. Exercising its right of deliberation, the Conference still had the trouble of exhaustively discussing the structure of the proposed 11-member body. The most heated debates took place at the Committee III/1 (on structure and procedures), which reported to Commission III (on the Security Council). In much the same way as in 1919, representatives from lesser powers urged an expansion of the Council to allow for a higher number of seats for the wider membership. Some Latin American countries (including Brazil) favored a permanent seat for the region. Their efforts proved fruitless. The Brazilian delegation withdrew its proposal regarding the representation of Latin America, inasmuch as this would imply an increase in the size of the Council. As a result, the committee decided “not to favor the creation of a sixth permanent seat representing Latin America.” ¹⁸

Brazil still tried to cajole the U.S. delegation in bilateral conversations in San Francisco, to no avail. That window of opportunity had already been closed. Leão Velloso wrote a letter to Stettinius, in which he stressed that Brazil’s military contribution to the war, whose value had always been recognized by the United States, “fully” justified this aspiration. He insisted that denying this place would cause frustration, with “undesirable repercussions” in the future: “Let us not belittle the deep disappointment that the Brazilian people would feel if they are not recognized for their sacrifices in favor of the Allied forces.” Stettinius’ reply was polite, but definitive: The sponsors of the Conference had concluded that “it was in the best interests of the [UN] organization in the conduct of its great responsibility for the maintenance of world peace and security that there should be no further permanent assignment of seats on the Security Council.” ¹⁹

The Brazilian Candidacy From the 1990s and After

Having lost the opportunity opened at the creation of the United Nations, Brazil’s aspiration to become a Security Council permanent member remained to a great extent dormant. The option left in 1945 had been to be elected by the General Assembly as a nonpermanent member. Brazil has done so for several terms since 1946, with the important exception of a gap of almost two decades, from 1969 to 1987, when the country shied away from the Council, roughly coinciding with the period of the military regime (1964-1985). With the return of democracy in Brazil, under the administration of Jose Sarney (1985-1990), the question of permanent membership again appeared in official speeches. Brazil was back in the Council as a nonpermanent member (1988-1989) and President Sarney himself made a statement in this regard at the General Assembly.

Brazilian redemocratization was contemporaneous with the end of the Cold War and the decades-long bipolarity between the two superpowers, when forceful action by the Security Council had suffered from a virtual paralysis. Sweeping changes at the international level sparked a revival of the body (the First Gulf War in 1991 being a case in point) and an ever-increasing interest of the world public opinion in its activities, including the prospects for its enlargement. The reform agenda gained traction as growing numbers of UN member states expressed their views that, in spite of the expansion of nonpermanent seats in the 1960s (from six to 10), the structure of the Council was in need of an overhaul. In 1993, the General Assembly established the Open-Ended Working Group (OEWG) on Security Council reform. ²⁰ Interest groups were formed, such as the informal coalition dubbed the “coffee club,” later reorganized as the group of like-minded countries Uniting for Consensus (UfC), opposed to new permanent members.

Under President Itamar Franco (1992-1994), from the Brazilian Democratic Movement Party (PMDB), Celso Amorim’s first tenure as foreign minister put in motion a high-profile policy of pushing forward a comprehensive reform of the Security Council. Brazil actively engaged in the New York negotiations and made it known that it disapproved of the so-called “quick fix” (admitting only Germany and Japan). In September 1994, speaking before the General Assembly, Amorim recalled a meeting of the Group of Rio, where leaders from 14 Latin American and Caribbean countries had reaffirmed that the region should be “included in any expansion of the Security Council.” He then went on to say that “we have clearly stated our readiness to assume all responsibilities required of countries eligible to occupy permanent seats” (de Seixas Correa, 2013, p. 707).

The following administration, under President Fernando Henrique Cardoso (1995-2002), from the Brazilian Social-Democracy Party (PSDB), adopted a more restrained attitude. The prevailing mind-set in the Cardoso years was one of addressing the matter cautiously (Burges, 2009). In what seemed to be a downgrading of the candidacy, early in 1995, Cardoso’s minister of foreign affairs, Luiz Felipe Lampreia, published a newspaper article in which he asserted that Brazil was “not obsessed” with the idea and, consequently, was not willing to subordinate or impose conditions to any foreign policy goal in exchange for a permanent seat. In fairness, the official position under Cardoso was more nuanced. Brazil declined to launch an open campaign, but, at the same time, it made itself ready to undertake the responsibilities of permanent membership in case it was chosen to do so. ²¹

The international context was a critical factor in defining the way Brazil calibrated its diplomatic discourse. The 50th anniversary of the United Nations, in 1995, energized debates and provided a favorable momentum for UN reform. Subsequently, the president of the 51st General Assembly, the Malaysian ambassador, Razali Ismail, in 1997, presented a paper that envisaged an increase of the Security Council’s membership from 15 to 24 members. Five new permanent members should be elected: three developing countries from Africa, Asia, and Latin America and the Caribbean, plus two from industrialized states. The Razali Plan, albeit not successful, ventured to accommodate the 2 + 3 formula and represented the “negotiating middle ground” of the 1990s, as suggested by Bourantonis (2007, p. 76), in an attempt at reconciling the views of “the greatest possible number of states.”

One of the reasons for Cardoso’s cautious approach is believed to stem from strategic concerns with Argentina, perceived as a priority by the Brazilian government. In addition to say that joining the G8 was more important for Brazil, Cardoso even suggested that between a seat on the Security Council and friendship with Argentina, he would choose the latter (Cardoso, 2006). In the wake of the Razali Plan, the Argentinian president, Carlos Menem, hinted that he was against Brazil’s candidacy as it could potentially disrupt the regional balance of power in South America. This led to a prompt reaction by the Brazilian government. Cardoso took special care to personally reassure his colleague in private talks. Lampreia went to the press to defend Brazil’s interests and promised to work so that the region could be fully represented in the Security Council:

We will not abdicate of what is naturally, objectively and universally acknowledged: that, if a permanent vacancy must be filled by a Latin American country, Brazil has the qualifications that legitimately enable it to present itself or to be presented for this mission. ²²

As no final decision was reached at the UN on the outcome of reform, bilateral consultations between Brazil and Argentina remained inconclusive.

Security Council reform received more attention at the beginning of Cardoso’s government, peaking in 1997, and lost some relevance in the following years, until it virtually disappeared from the agenda in 1999 to 2000, only to timidly come back in 2001 (Brigido, 2010). These changes in emphasis were influenced to some extent by other domestic priorities, the effects of the world economic crisis in Brazil, and the fading away of the momentum for UN reform after the attempted failures of the mid-1990s.

The government of President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva (2003-2010), from the left-wing Workers’ Party (PT), set out to take UN reform to a new level. Some foreign policy experts hold that, rather than an extensive breach of continuity between Cardoso’s and Lula’s policies toward the United Nations, there were adjustments of focus and shifts in political preferences. Whereas Cardoso did not put a lot of effort into the campaign for the Security Council, Lula’s commitment to this objective was substantial. He brought back Amorim to be his foreign minister and engaged personally in presidential diplomacy around the globe, systematically raising the point in both bilateral meetings and multilateral gatherings, making it a common appearance in joint declarations everywhere (Amorim, 2011; de Castro Neves, 2012; Lessa, 2010; Vigevani & Cepaluni, 2012).

Brazilian leadership of the military command of the UN Stabilization Mission in Haiti (Minustah), established in April 2004, contributed to boost the notion that Brazil was capable of taking on growing responsibilities in the multilateral security domain. The creation of the G4, in September 2004, comprising Brazil, Germany, India, and Japan, was another crucial step to find allies and champion the cause of reform. The four countries, based on the “firmly shared recognition that they are legitimate candidates for permanent membership in an expanded Security Council,” pledged mutual support and signaled that Africa should be represented in the permanent membership as well. ²³ It is worth noting that, also in 2004, the High-Level Panel commissioned by the UN Secretary-General, Kofi Annan, had put forward two models for reform. Both models involved a distribution of seats among four major regional areas, identified as Africa, Asia Pacific, Europe, and the Americas. Model A provided for six new permanent seats, with no veto, and three new 2-year-term nonpermanent seats. Model B envisaged no new permanent seats, but rather a new category of eight 4-year renewable-term seats and one new 2-year nonpermanent (and nonrenewable) seat. ²⁴

The year 2005 was one of high hopes, albeit unfulfilled. In his report, In Larger Freedom, Annan urged member states to consider the two models recommended by the High-Level Panel and to agree on making a decision before September 2005. “It would be very preferable for member states to take this vital decision by consensus,” he wrote, “but if they are unable to reach consensus this must not become an excuse for postponing action.” ²⁵ That same year, the L.64 draft resolution, sponsored by the G4 and 23 other countries (including one of the P5, France), acknowledged the need to improve the representative character of the Security Council, and suggested an enlargement of the body to 25 members. Besides four additional nonpermanent seats, six new permanent members should be elected according to the following pattern: two African states, two Asian states, one Latin American and Caribbean state, and one from the group of Western European and other states. These new permanent members should not exercise the veto until a decision on this question has been made by means of a review process in 15 years. ²⁶

At the same time, Brazil’s activism rose to unprecedented levels. In Itamaraty’s assessment, decision time was approaching and full diplomatic mobilization was required. Special envoys of the president were sent to all regions to convey a letter from Lula concerning Security Council reform (some South Pacific island states received an official Brazilian emissary for the very first time). Embassies all over the world were instructed to make urgent demarches. There was, nonetheless, no agreement among member states on the way ahead. In March 2005, the African Union had adopted a maximalist common position (the Ezulwini Consensus), demanding no less than two permanent seats for Africa “with all the prerogatives and privileges of permanent membership,” including the right of veto, in addition to five African nonpermanent seats. For the African countries, so long as the veto exists, it should be made available to all permanent members “as a matter of common justice.” ²⁷ Brazil endeavored in vain to find common ground between the G4 and African Union (AU) positions. Negotiations foundered, and ultimately no draft resolution was put to a vote owing to strong resistance from other countries and groups of interest. The U.S. mission, for example, urged all delegations to oppose the G4 initiative and vote against it or abstain, arguing that any decision on the matter was bound to be divisive.

Following the high stakes of 2005, New York negotiations moved forward very slowly. A procedural breakthrough came in September 2008, when the OEWG was subtly dismissed and replaced by a unanimous decision to commence intergovernmental negotiations in the informal plenary of the General Assembly, based on proposals by member states, in accordance with the agenda submitted by the president of the 63rd General Assembly, Miguel d’Escoto. The stated aim of the decision was to seek a solution that could “garner the widest possible political acceptance by member states.” ²⁸ Negotiations have been conducted in this format ever since, but still there is no end in sight, at least in the short term.

The Brazilian candidacy peaked with Lula’s first term, de-escalated in the ensuing years, and stayed alive during President Dilma Rousseff’s administration, though mostly in an underground fashion in the eyes of the public. When the President of the United States, Barack Obama, was about to pay a visit to Brasilia in March 2011, Amorim published a piece exhorting him to support Brazil’s drive for a permanent seat as a developing country with influence in a number of areas, including international security. The “perfect example” he mentioned was the Brazilian diplomatic tour de force (along with Turkey) in the negotiations on Iran’s nuclear program, which led to the Declaration of Tehran in the previous year. ²⁹ During his visit, Obama expressed “appreciation” for Brazil’s aspiration and “acknowledged its assumption of global responsibilities,” a statement that was considered weaker than Obama’s outward support to the same ambition by India.

Brazil pushed for a “benign multipolarity” under Rousseff, but her priorities lay elsewhere, given the bleak economic domestic situation and her well-known personal aloofness from foreign policy matters (de Jesus, 2014). Changes in tone can be pinpointed in her overall disengagement from UN diplomacy. Even so, Rousseff participated in a summit of G4 leaders in September 2015, the second ever to take place (the first one was in 2004).

Comparing and Assessing Brazil’s Case

To compare the three historical moments sketched above, one must look beyond superficial similarities among them. Certainly, there are common elements in the narratives: the existence of a political body of restricted membership within a larger international organization and the fact that some member states (Brazil included) seek to be represented in it on a permanent basis. However, when it comes to substance, discrepancies for each period are striking: Not only does the world look different, the organizations have evolved (the UN itself is far more complex today than 72 years ago), the international and regional environments have been transformed, and, most important, Brazil has changed as well.

First and foremost, change can be neatly discernible in the transformation of the world order. The international context switched from remnants of 19th-century diplomatic practices (postwar Europe in the 1920s) into a structure of U.S. dominance (Pax Americana in 1945), but was then reshaped again by the emergence of new actors in an increasingly multipolar system (early 21st century). The two Great Wars were turning points in the transfer of power from the Old World to new powers outside Europe. The League of Nations was unable to keep up with this structural rearrangement and its embedded reliance on Eurocentric patterns (in a world that ceased to be so) contributed to its failure and demise. The United Nations was founded under the leadership of the hegemonic Western power after the Second World War in tandem with the rise of a U.S.-led international liberal order (Ikenberry, 2001). Today, power has rapidly been spread around a quasi-multicentric world, with new dynamics under way between established powers and newcomers, thus, putting pressure on the institutional system forged decades ago.

The domestic front is another pivotal area where differences must be duly noted. In the times of the Old Republic, the Brazilian political system was dominated by traditional oligarchic elites. Particularly under Bernardes, growing political unrest and low-rank military rebellions led his government to impose a state of siege and tighten repression of dissenting voices. By 1920, the population reached more than 30 million inhabitants, a majority of it living in rural areas. In an agriculture-based economy (almost 80% of the GDP came from the agricultural sector), coffee was by far the leading commodity, accounting for 73% of all products exported by Brazil in 1926 (Garcia, 2006). In 1945, under the Estado Novo, the authoritarian political regime created by and for Vargas, wartime Brazil was facing relentless domestic and international pressure for immediate elections, freedom of speech, and an early return of democracy. The economy had made steady progress in terms of industrialization, but it was still heavily coffee dependent. With a population of 45 million, in spite of the expansion of the middle class in major cities, Brazilian society was by and large inward looking and statistically more rural than urban (Lochery, 2014).

By the end of the 20th century, Brazil looked transformed in many ways. Democracy and the rule of law have consolidated since 1985, resulting in a new Constitution (1988) and bringing relative political stability. The economy has diversified (it currently ranks among the world’s top 10 economies) and improvements have been achieved in inflation control, real per capita GDP, social development, and poverty alleviation. Population jumped from around 150 million inhabitants in 1991 to more than 200 million by 2013 (the world’s fifth most populous nation). All in all, comparing with conditions of 50 or 100 years ago, even though many challenges remain, Brazilian society has become much more multifarious.

In relation to how the bids were welcomed, the reception varied significantly. Back in 1921 to 1926, Brazil hoped to count on U.S. support to hold a permanent seat on the League’s Council, because one of its strategies was to occupy the seat that had supposedly been “reserved” for the United States. Washington’s polite refusal to grant its backing was not decisive, insofar as the United States was not a member of the League. ³⁰

In the hidden candidacy of 1944 to 1945, the situation was entirely different, because the initiative to put forward the name of Brazil (the ultimate “good neighbor” in Latin America) came from the United States. Roosevelt put his concept to the test without even consulting the Brazilian government beforehand. At this juncture, the United States stood at the forefront of postwar planning. Nevertheless, the attempt failed. Both the Soviet and the British were adamant against any additional increase in permanent seats beyond the P5. Perhaps, Brazil was unwanted because, once in the Council, it could represent a “double vote” for the United States. The Soviet Union, which had no diplomatic relations with Brazil in 1944, lacked a concrete motivation to accept the U.S. proposal. Stalin had unwillingly acquiesced in welcoming China and France, at the insistence of the United States and Britain respectively. It was too much to expect Moscow to support yet another U.S. ally firmly in the Western camp. In truth, Brazil was not politically strategic to London, whose foreign policy priorities were geared toward transatlantic (U.S.) relations, Europe, and the British Empire. For the Foreign Office, creating a sixth permanent seat would be akin to “stir up a hornets’ nest.” British reports sent from Washington informed that the Brazilian ambassador, Carlos Martins, referred “several times” to the absence of a permanent representative from Latin America. London diplomats were not enthusiastic: “It is of course absurd to pretend that Brazil has the status of a Great Power,” wrote a senior British official. ³¹

Since the 1990s, Brazil has been looking for international political backing once again, despite some lukewarm reactions, or even dogged opposition, in particular from UfC countries. A tenet in the Brazilian way of thinking is the fact that propositions on reform, such as the Razali Plan and the G4 draft resolution, assigned the General Assembly the responsibility of choosing new members. Brazil, as well as other UN member states, argued that criteria for selecting future permanent members should be universal, not regional. “Consensual support” from the region, therefore, should not be a sine qua non condition for being elected by the General Assembly, where the principle “one nation one vote” applies (Amorim, 2003). The other G4 members also justify their aspirations based on their capacity to contribute to the maintenance of international peace and security in global terms, regardless of whether fellow neighbors endorse them or not. They hold that any member state, in principle, could present itself as a “legitimate candidate,” without the obligation (or even expectation) to represent a region or geographic area. Critics of course disagree and G4 countries have to cope with their nemeses: China in the case of Japan, Pakistan against India, and Italy as the most vocal European partner constraining Germany.

Among the variables at play is the interdependence between external and internal incentives or constraints. The 1926 bet on “all or nothing” to attain a permanent seat has been understood from the beginning as part of a short-lived expedient to divert attention from internal problems faced by the Bernardes government in a turbulent political situation (de Macedo Soares, 1927). Brazil’s objectives in Geneva were considered by many unattainable and unrealistic, arising out of a misguided perception of the country’s geopolitical status in the postwar world. Apart from a compelling desire to stay in the Council, the Bernardes administration had no comprehensive foreign policy project for Brazil’s diplomatic role either in its own region or in the world at large. This brought about a dichotomy between “limited interests and disproportionate ambitions” (Garcia, 2000, p. 140).

In 1944 to 1945, in the context of a strongly centralized regime with tight controls over public opinion, Vargas was the ultimate decision maker. He was busy trying to ensure that the Estado Novo (1937-1945) would survive politically after the war, but this did not prevent him from authorizing Itamaraty to keep on working toward permanent membership in the Security Council. ³² The balance between external incentives and constraints tilted due to shifts of power in the U.S. government and the negative reaction the issue provoked in an overall scenario of profound changes in international relations during the last months of the Second World War.

By the same token, the momentum generated by external factors may have significantly influenced the decision to launch, revive, or soften Brazil’s appetite for further engagement. Itamar Franco’s administration pushed harder in favor of Security Council reform precisely when the UN was approaching its 50th anniversary, in 1995. In the same tone, the world financial crisis at the turn of the 20th century contributed to lessen interest from Cardoso in engaging in security issues. Analogously, international events such as the aftermath of the 2003 war in Iraq, or the 60th UN anniversary in 2005, prompted the Brazilian government to resume efforts to attain its goal.

The quest for prestige has also been suggested as the driving force behind Brazil’s candidacies. This was particularly true in the 1920s, when Bernardes’ foreign policy horizons were rather limited in scope and ill-conceived in terms of grand strategy. In the 1945 self-effacing campaign, Brazil tried to make the most of a situation that was presented to it as an opportunity worth trying, but without any real preparatory work to start a credible bid at such short notice—between the day the Dumbarton Oaks proposals had been publicized (October 1944) and the convening of the San Francisco Conference (April to June 1945). For both Cardoso’s and Lula’s administrations, prestige would be enhanced as a by-product of Brazil taking part in global decision-making forums, because, it was hoped, the country would contribute in a constructive way to conflict resolution.

One consistency has been Brazil’s traditional stance in multilateral organizations as a promoter of peaceful settlement of disputes, nonintervention, and preventive diplomacy (Fonseca, 2001). Herein lies a foreign policy dilemma, which pervades all the candidatures: Brazil seeks a position in the world body responsible for peace and security, but the country itself has a limited capacity to influence international security through the use of military means. The reason for this may be linked to the fact that, facing no direct threat from any neighboring state and being a member of a nuclear weapons free zone, Brazil feels geostrategically secure and has low incentives to ostensibly pursue military power.

In this sense, some argue that Brazilian diplomatic skills in seeking balanced agreements, bridging differences, and mediating opposing views could be useful in small “executive councils” (Burges, 2017, p. 53). Although an aspect to be reckoned with, prestige considerations, however, are not enough to explain it. It might be problematic to track a single decisive factor linking governments so different during such a long span of time (more than a century). Distinctive governments have claimed Brazil’s case “even in the face of lack of interest or opposition from their own citizens” (Mares & Trinkunas, 2016, p. 15). Other ideational forces must be looked into as well, chief of which Brazil’s self-perception as a continental-sized country, purportedly bound to a “promising future,” leading to an ingrained belief in some quarters that its international role should not be confined to its own region.

When it comes to the line of thought, Brazil modulated its discourse to substantiate its candidacies over time and according to circumstances. In the 1920s, upholding the regionalization of the Council’s membership to include an American (Western Hemisphere) permanent representation was meant to preserve the universality of the League and, thereby, its legitimacy. Because the campaign in Geneva was anchored in the stipulation that Brazil somehow had an “implicit mandate” in the Council as the “Pan American spokesman,” it should be noted that the argument of regional representation was by then considerably more important if compared with the more recent bids, in which such link has been either avoided or only marginally discussed in official statements. Brazil has now been arguing that its claim rests on the contention that the Security Council does not represent the current distribution of world power, thus, perpetuating the anachronistic post–Second World War configuration.

Also at the discursive level, there was relative continuity in arguments put forth by Cardoso and Lula, such as the defense of a more representative, legitimate, transparent, and democratic Security Council. Cardoso never actually renounced the bid: By signaling that Brazil would not turn it down, if called upon to such incumbency, it implied that it was in Brazil’s interest to play a prominent role in international peace and security. In the 1990s, democratic consolidation, financial stability, and economic growth were largely used to explain why Brazil was ready to take on more responsibilities. Under Lula, social programs implemented by his government and reduction in extreme poverty and hunger levels were also recalled as positive examples to boost Brazil’s image abroad.

In relation to regional support, such a component was relatively scarce in the 1920s. Demarches under Bernardes targeted above all European capitals. Latin American neighbors were undervalued and did not receive proper attention. The region was peripheral for Brazilian foreign policy at the time. Apart from Argentina, the main trade partners were the United States and some European countries (Britain, France, Germany, Italy), which dominated Brazil’s international concerns. In 1945, the Brazilian campaign was designed to be a discreet one and no serious effort was made to elicit bilateral support for it among Latin American countries. The situation has changed in the 1990s. The importance granted by Cardoso to Mercosur and the relationship with Argentina were significant. Lula also dedicated a considerable amount of time to the region, highlighted the benefits of regional integration, and led new initiatives for political and economic coordination, such as Unasur (Union of South American Nations), established in 2008. It remains to be seen how fostering better relations with neighboring countries may have an impact on UN reform issues.

In addition to the regional puzzle, Brazil faces domestic ambiguity, from indifference to outright rejection. This became apparent in all three historical periods under examination. Many domestic criticisms stem from a partisan, internally driven opposition against the government in a given time (be it oligarchic, authoritarian, or democratic). A usual line of argument stipulates that socioeconomic development has been a much more pressing priority for Brazilian society, thereby making an engagement in international security affairs less attractive. Naysayers accuse Brazilian politicians of chasing a will-o’-the-wisp that fails to bring tangible benefits. And yet, the historical record shows that, despite domestic political changes, the case for the Security Council cuts across party lines and has been made again and again by all governments in Brazil since the early 1990s. There seems to be a consistent long-term pattern that goes beyond tactical moves and, quoting Burges (2017), it is expected “to continue irrespective of who is occupying the presidency” (p. 244).

Conclusion

Global order has been shifting fast in the 21st century, and emerging powers will most probably carry on pushing for more room as relevant stakeholders in top multilateral institutions. With numerous unmet needs and challenges, Brazil defies clear-cut definitions based solely on power criteria. Scholars struggle to accurately answer the tricky question of whether Brazil is punching above or below its weight in global affairs. Its reformist rhetoric does not make it an archetypical “spoiler” eager to rock the boat of the international liberal order, inasmuch as Brazil has no “existential grievance” against the core values of the existing system (Spektor, 2016, pp. 17-35). The Brazilian self-image of “greatness” is very often translated into seeking inclusion for the sake of status and representation and, consequently, recognition by the great powers.

This article attempted to contribute to this debate by examining three historical moments to help contextualize Brazil’s efforts to play a more prominent role in global affairs. One of the main differences found regarding the bids is related to the distinctive levels of international engagement Brazil has been willing to pursue. In 1926, the Brazilian oligarchic diplomacy lacked a sound, well-crafted strategy to make sense of a prestige goal, which was not anchored in a foreign policy of global reach. In a rather uncompromising attitude, Bernardes went for a clash against the Locarno powers, because a Europe-centered, Geneva-based League was not prepared to welcome a relatively backward, distant South American country to the inner sanctum of the organization’s most important political body. In 1945, Brazil still had a relatively unimportant global projection. Vargas was overwhelmed by other domestic priorities and Itamaraty was divided on the merits of the initiative. The promise of reaping the rewards as the most trusted U.S. wartime ally in the region proved insufficient. Against the backdrop of military power mobilized on a planetary scale for the war effort, a unique international circumstance suppressed the bid before it was ripe.

Since the 1990s, Brazil has been developing a deeper and more active engagement in the international order, in which it is trying to consolidate its perceived role as a constructive multilateral player. The campaign for the Security Council that went mainstream in Brazilian diplomatic discourse, now reframed as a call for more accountability, democracy, and representativeness, particularly from unrepresented states of the Global South, so as to bring some fresh air into a structure frozen in time. In Brazil’s view, the permanent seat campaign, as a long-term goal, is a matter of being poised to occupy the place (when the window opens), rather than an attempt at forcefully trying to clear the way by investing heavily on hard power tools. Because Brazil’s posture does not rely necessarily on the deployment of military power, it is all too easy to dismiss Brazilian aspirations if the analytical focus remains narrowly attached to the tools Brazil uses the least.

In short, comparing all three occasions reinforced our overall argument that neither changes of government over the years nor lingering doubts among members of the Brazilian elite have prevented the claim to be reaffirmed, although with varying intensity. In terms of future behavior that can be expected from Brazil at the UN, if history has any role to play in predicting it, we feel that the long-term patterns identified in this article will continue to shape Brazilian foreign policy. One can say that similar claims regarding a coveted permanent seat will be made by right-wing or left-wing governments alike. The quest remains elusive though, as any successful reform of the Security Council will rest on a combination of underlying factors beyond the control of a single country.