On September 20, 2006, Hugo Chávez stepped up to the granite podium of the United Nations General Assembly. A day earlier, from that exact same spot, the President of the United States, George W. Bush, had spoken. Chávez crossed himself, said that the room still smelled of sulphur, and the hall burst into laughter and applause. It was not the speech Chávez had originally intended to give, but rather the direct result of the deep indignation caused by hearing Bush speak as if he owned the world. The major media of the North latched onto the sulphur phrase and have tried to caricature it. But it is the rest of his intervention that remains fully relevant, 20 years later.
Chávez arrived at the General Assembly with a book in hand, “Hegemony or Survival” by Noam Chomsky. His warning was simple yet devastating: the United States’s pretense of dominating the world put the very survival of the human species at risk. At that time, US troops were occupying Iraq. A few weeks earlier, Israel had bombed Lebanon under Washington’s diplomatic protection. In the capitals of the global north, the “end of history” was still being celebrated, the idea that liberal capitalism was humanity’s definitive horizon. Chávez said that this thesis had been proven false in barely a decade, and that now the future of the world had to be defined.
Twenty years later, plunged into an even greater systemic crisis, we can see that every phrase of Chávez’s speech remains relevant.
From hegemony to hyper-imperialism
In 2006, the United States seemed like an empire at the peak of its power. Today it is an empire in relative decline, and therefore more dangerous. The Tricontinental Institute for Social Research has called this new stage hyper-imperialism: imperialism exercised in an exaggerated and agitated manner by a power that compensates for the loss of its economic hegemony by relying on the two areas where it still dominates, war and the control of information.
An empire’s hegemony is usually lost in three stages: first in production, then in finance, and finally in the military. The United States has already lost productive primacy: China is today the world’s largest economy measured by purchasing power parity. The reign of the dollar is beginning to be questioned, and many countries are opting for transactions in their own currencies. But military supremacy remains intact. The bloc led by Washington groups around 50 countries and concentrates about three-quarters of global military spending. The United States maintains around 900 military bases abroad. More than one in four countries on the planet lives under its sanctions.
An empire that declines economically while retaining its weapons is tempted to resolve its decline by force. The dilemma that Chávez borrowed from Chomsky, hegemony or survival, has become literal. Permanent war and climate catastrophe today threaten the very conditions of life.
The veto and the UN that doesn’t work
The least-cited part of the speech was perhaps the most prophetic. Chávez stated that the United Nations system born after World War II had collapsed. The General Assembly had become a merely deliberative space, without the capacity to change the terrible reality of the world. Back then, Chávez made four concrete proposals:
First, expand the Security Council to include Third World countries as permanent members. Second, create transparent methods for conflict resolution. Third, eliminate the veto, and fourth, strengthen the General Secretariat.
His example was Lebanon: a US veto had allowed the country to be torn apart before the eyes of the world. Unfortunately, over two decades, the UN’s strength to prevent wars and genocides has progressively diminished. That same mechanism criticized by Chávez has allowed a new genocide in Gaza. That inaction of multilateralism permitted the kidnapping of the sitting Venezuelan president. However, the conclusion is not to abandon the UN, but to contest it.
The debate on a “multipolarity” that reproduces rivalry between great powers is insufficient. What the South needs is true multilateralism, defending the United Nations Charter as the common heritage of the world’s peoples. It is the same Charter upon which, in 1955, the ten principles of the Bandung Conference were built.
“We are men and women of the South”
Chávez did not arrive in New York alone. He came from Havana, where more than fifty heads of state had just relaunched the Non-Aligned Movement. “Havana was the capital of the South for a week,” he said. And then he added a phrase that sums up a political identity: “we are men and women of the South.”
The Global South is not a cardinal point. Australia is in the southern hemisphere and belongs to the North; Cuba, Vietnam, or Burkina Faso are in the northern hemisphere and belong to the South. It is a historical category: they are the peoples of former colonies and semi-colonies and socialist projects, whose struggle for sovereignty has not yet concluded. Their weight has changed. By 2007, the economies of the South surpassed those of the North in purchasing power parity, and in recent years they came to represent nearly 60 percent of world product. BRICS and the Belt and Road Initiative have begun to create something that did not exist in Bandung’s time: material conditions for cooperation among the peoples of the South.
But, although there is a new mood in the Global South today, the spirit of Bandung is not yet there. In 1955, the strength of those governments came from organized masses that prevented them from abandoning the liberation program. Chávez’s speech was precisely that: the voice of Latin American twenty-first-century socialism, of peoples pushing their governments. It was, for Latin America, a kind of Bandung from below. Today, that spirit faces an “angry tide” and needs to be rebuilt.
Peoples, not governments
There is a fundamental element in that 2006 speech that we cannot forget. Chávez distinguished between the US government and its people. He said that if one walked through the Bronx or San Francisco, one would find people who want peace. The working class of the North, impoverished and battered by deindustrialization, is not the enemy of the peoples of the South. It is a possible ally. Specially today when it is persecuted by a renewed McCarthyism that sees terrorism in those who raise their voices for social justice.
When Bush accused those who opposed his war of being extremists, Chávez replied that it was not about extremism: the world was awakening and peoples were rising everywhere. Today, aggression takes multiple forms. It takes the face of military actions, lawfare, unilateral coercive measures, or the confiscation of national resources. But its objective remains the same: to discipline anyone attempting a sovereign path.
The future doesn’t just arrive; we must organize it
The speech closed on a note of optimism. Chávez said that there was a dawn on the planet, visible in Latin America, Asia, and Africa. Twenty years later, that optimism requires precision. The future is not a date on the calendar, but a rupture that must be built. Hope is not passive expectation, but a practice that requires organization, discipline, and internationalism.
The sulphur that Chávez smelled in 2006 has not dissipated; it has grown denser and spread beyond the diplomatic corridors of New York. That is why that speech does not belong to a record of the past, but to our current agenda. It reminds us that the South has a voice, that the UN can and must be contested, and that the North’s hegemony is not a natural law. What is missing, as in Bandung, is what has always made the difference: the peoples must organize.
Carlos Ron is Co-coordinator of the Nuestra America office of Tricontinental: Institute for Social Research. He was a Venezuelan diplomat and served as Vice Minister for North America (2018-2025).
This article was produced by Globetrotter.
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