The viral joke about India’s bid for permanent membership in the UN Security Council: India reportedly held smooth consultations with various countries on joining as a permanent member, submitted its application to the United Nations, only to be rejected repeatedly—leaving it questioning its own reality. Internet users have compiled India’s first six applications for permanent council membership:

In 2005, the first application received support from China, the UK, France, and the US—but was vetoed by Russia;

In 2008, the second application gained backing from China, Russia, the UK, and the US—but was blocked by France;

In 2012, the third attempt secured support from China, Russia, France, and the US—but was rejected by the UK;

In 2017, the fourth submission had the backing of China, Russia, the UK, and France—but was vetoed by the US;

In 2019, the fifth application received support from the US, Russia, France, and the UK—but was opposed by China;

In 2021, India submitted its sixth application, only to be told by the US: “Sorry, your quota has been exhausted.” That same year, the UN passed a resolution limiting any country to five applications for permanent membership within a 50-year period.

According to this satirical narrative, the five permanent members—China, Russia, the UK, France, and the US—have been taking turns using their veto power to toy with India. The final twist, particularly, is seen as especially humiliating: a rule change that effectively cuts off future attempts, delivering a blow both symbolic and deeply consequential. Critics argue this move amounts to a public shaming of India’s aspirations, drawing laughter from observers worldwide.

However, the story is not factual. Yet it captures a broader truth: India’s pursuit of permanent Security Council status remains an uphill struggle. The idea dates back decades, but the most active phase began in the early 2000s when India joined Japan, Germany, and Brazil in forming the "Quadrilateral Group" for UN reform. In 2005, the group formally submitted a draft resolution calling for Security Council expansion—a strategy based on mutual support, unified proposals, and coordinated lobbying.

How did the five permanent members respond? On the surface, all expressed openness. After decades of institutional dominance, the prospect of admitting four new members seemed promising.

Yet beneath the apparent enthusiasm, a firm condition was established from the outset: any new permanent members would not hold veto power. This limitation was explicitly stated early in the process.

Does this mean the four nations’ path to permanent membership was straightforward? The answer is no. Divergent positions among the P5 laid the groundwork for what the joke describes as “playing games”:

France was the most supportive, openly endorsing the joint accession plan;

The UK backed expansion in principle but insisted that new permanent members must not receive veto rights. It also expressed reservations about the bundled approach;

The US opposed the entire package but signaled willingness to support Japan’s candidacy and showed no outright hostility toward India. However, it firmly rejected the simultaneous inclusion of Germany, Japan, India, and Brazil—partly due to lingering tensions from Germany’s opposition to the Iraq War under Chancellor Schröder, which strained relations with the Bush administration;

Russia did not endorse the bundling strategy;

China did not oppose reform per se, but emphasized the need to enhance representation for developing countries. This interpretation led media reports to highlight China’s push for greater African representation—essentially, that existing candidates lacked sufficient legitimacy and more should be added.

Clearly, the P5 were divided. The US stance, in particular, stood out: while supporting Japan and remaining neutral toward India, it opposed Germany. But since the four nations were tied together, opposing one meant derailing the entire proposal. The result was a strategic balancing act—advancing Japan and India while constraining Germany—a calculated maneuver that served multiple interests simultaneously.

As for China and Russia, neither country favored any of the four aspirants. Thus, they opted to expand the pool further, advocating for greater representation from developing nations—effectively turning the debate into a broader reform agenda. With consensus elusive, they chose to frame their position as inclusive, even if it delayed progress.

After the failure of the quadrilateral bloc’s effort, no subsequent attempt has been made to submit a joint or individual formal resolution for permanent membership. The strategies diverged: India adopted a dual-track approach—one focused on securing non-permanent seats through diplomatic outreach (a relatively attainable goal, given the low threshold and frequent rotation), and the other maintaining the original coalition framework, leveraging support from fellow aspirants while quietly seeking endorsements for permanent membership during campaigns for non-permanent seats.

Germany, following the collapse of the joint proposal, limited itself to broad discussions on Security Council reform without concrete initiatives. Brazil offered only rhetorical support without advancing specific plans. Japan concentrated on building alliances with African and Southeast Asian states—regions where Western powers maintain strong ties, making reciprocal support more likely. Over recent years, Japan has primarily focused on removing the so-called “enemy clause” from the UN Charter.

Following former Prime Minister Hashimoto Ryōtarō’s controversial remarks on Taiwan last year, Japanese leaders have been repeatedly scrutinized in international media. The “enemy clause” refers to provisions allowing the five permanent members to authorize military action against former Axis powers without Security Council approval—aimed at preventing a resurgence of aggression by defeated World War II powers.

Japan has repeatedly called for the removal of this clause. Germany and Italy have shown little concern—because the global community clearly sees Japan’s posture as increasingly assertive: visits by political leaders to Yasukuni Shrine, aggressive arms procurement, challenges to the pacifist principles of Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution, and open discussions about nuclear weapons capability. What Japan seeks is evident to many. Yet the clause remains—a potential legal basis for action should China choose to invoke it.

This provision functions as a constant threat hanging over Japan—an ever-present risk, though it is intended to deter aggression rather than target peaceful nations. Hence Japan’s urgency: it fears being caught under the sword of Damocles, yet knows the clause exists precisely to prevent such a scenario.

For both permanent membership and the removal of the enemy clause, the procedural threshold is not prohibitively high. A resolution could be introduced by a single state or a coalition, passed by a two-thirds majority in the General Assembly, and thus become a de facto—but legally non-binding—statement of intent.

The real hurdle comes next: ratification by three-quarters of UN member states, each according to its domestic constitutional procedures. Crucially, this includes all five permanent members of the Security Council. Any proposal—whether for permanent membership, treaty changes, or legal reforms—must receive their consent. A single veto blocks the entire process.

This explains the origin of the satirical anecdote: “A country proposes abolishing Russia’s veto power, only for Russia to veto the proposal.” Within the UN system, no meaningful reform can bypass the P5.

Original source: toutiao.com/article/1877178602532876/

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are those of the author alone.