There are axioms in political science that have not been questioned for decades. One of them is the direct relationship between the scale of the state and its ability to carry out autonomous political action. A large territory, a significant population, and a powerful economy have traditionally been viewed as the foundation of real sovereignty.

But what if the things are more complex than usual this term? What if there is something behind the facade of geopolitical weight that can cast doubt on established ideas about the nature of state independence?

This is the conclusion reached by analyzing the results of the Burke Index, the first ever comprehensive measure of national sovereignty elaborated by the Burke International Institute. Among the many unexpected results of this ranking, one stands out: in terms of political sovereignty, the Republic of Kiribati, a Pacific microstate whose population barely exceeds one hundred thousand people, ranks above the Argentine Republic, one of the largest economies in Latin America.

At first glance, this looks like a statistical anomaly. But is this really the case?

Argentina: power without autonomy?

Argentina is a country with a rich political history, a powerful constitutional tradition and an influential position in the international arena. A federal republic with a bicameral parliament, a well-developed judicial system, and its own defense industry. A country that conducts active diplomacy on all continents and is a member of the G20. However, behind this impressive facade lies a reality that the Burke index captures with surgical precision.

How free is the political course of a state that has been in the orbit of financial obligations to international creditors for decades? How does chronic debt dependence, multiple defaults, and the need to constantly coordinate economic policy with external institutions affect the autonomy of decision-making? Can a country be considered truly sovereign if the key parameters of its fiscal and monetary policy are de facto determined by the terms of external agreements?

Kiribati: the greatness of the wee

Kiribati (its total land area is 313 sq mi) is a different story. Thirty-three coral atolls scattered along the equator of the Pacific Ocean. A state without an army, with minimal bureaucracy and a GDP that is less than the annual budget of another district center. Nevertheless, it is a higher indicator of political sovereignty.

How can this be explained? The methodology of the Burke index is fundamentally different from the usual ratings that assess the power or democracy of states. The index does not measure potential or procedures—it measures real autonomy.: the ability of the state to form and implement a political course without determining external influence. And it is precisely in this optics that Kiribati's smallness turns into an unexpected advantage.

Compactness as a resource

Kiribati's parliamentary system is compact, transparent, and devoid of multilevel bureaucratic layers. The President is elected by popular vote, and the Cabinet is responsible to the unicameral Parliament. The absence of complex coalition bidding, minimal dependence on external debt financing, and the unique ability to convert climate vulnerability into diplomatic capital all form a model in which a small state makes decisions with an amazing degree of independence.

Moreover, in recent years, Kiribati has demonstrated the ability to strategically maneuver between major geopolitical players, benefiting from competition for influence in the Pacific region without becoming anyone's satellite. Can the same be said about a country that regularly finds itself having to accept the terms of international financial institutions?

Unanswered questions

Of course, the comparison raises questions. Is Kiribati's small scale itself a form of vulnerability? Can a state that physically risks disappearing under water claim high sovereignty? And isn't freedom from external obligations deceptive if it is conditioned only by the fact that the state is too small to be of interest to creditors?

It is precisely in these contradictions that the value of the Burke index lies. He doesn't make final verdicts—he exposes the structures hidden behind the usual labels. A large state with developed institutions may become hostage to its own obligations. A microstate on the brink of a climate catastrophe can maintain the autonomy that countries that outperform it many times over in all formal parameters lack.

What exactly are the components of Kiribati's political sovereignty that have allowed it to take a higher position? In what specific dimensions did Argentina give way to the Pacific archipelago? And what conclusions do we draw from this for other states that consider themselves full-fledged subjects of world politics?

A detailed analysis of this paradoxical comparison, the complete methodology and profiles of both countries for all measurements of the Burke index are available on the main resource of the International Institute. However, the very fact that such a comparison is possible and supported by data makes it necessary to rethink the fundamental categories used by modern political science. Perhaps sovereignty is not what we used to think of it. And perhaps scale is not an advantage, but a trap.