Ahead of the presidential election, the public debate repeatedly returns to the expectation that the president should represent Estonia abroad and introduce the country internationally. The first expectation is a reasonable constitutional requirement. The second was appropriate in 1992, but not anymore. To meaningfully discuss what we should expect from the next president in foreign policy, we must first understand how success in international relations is achieved.

Many countries have far fewer resources than Estonia. They have small diplomatic corps, key international meetings take place on the other side of the world, and they cannot maintain embassies in every capital where decisions affecting their future are made. Yet they must still influence UN decisions, negotiate with major powers, and ensure that international agreements consider their needs.

A central question in my daily work is how the world's smallest and most remote states can defend their interests in global politics. I spend a lot of time thinking about how to make a small diplomatic presence as effective as possible. Which relationships are worth building? When is it wise to lead, and when to find a partner whose voice carries further? How do you make an issue important to countries whose power far exceeds your own?

Looking at Estonia from that perspective, I often find that we speak about ourselves incorrectly. Estonia is, of course, a small state: our population is small, and our resources are not comparable to those of Germany, France or the United States. But in terms of diplomatic influence, Estonia is exceptionally strong.

We have access, long‑built relationships and trust. In some fields, Estonia's positions are expected and listened to. We have people in leadership structures of international organizations, a strong foreign service, and the ability to speak with allies at the level of officials, ministers and heads of state. Most importantly, Estonia has learned to be larger than its formal size.

Diplomatic influence does not necessarily mean Estonia's name appears in foreign media or that our representative gives a good speech at a conference. Influence is much less visible. Sometimes it means that an Estonian idea ends up in the text of an agreement. Sometimes it means that a much larger country begins defending an issue that matters to us. In the most successful cases, no one remembers whose idea it originally was.

One example comes from my own field. When Estonia served as an elected member of the UN Security Council in 2020–2021, it made cybersecurity one of its priorities and organized the Council's first‑ever formal meeting on the topic in 2021. After Estonia's term ended, other countries kept the issue on the agenda. Estonia created a precedent that cybersecurity is a matter the world's most powerful body should discuss. Others now carry that idea forward, often without remembering who convened the first meeting.

Such influence does not arise from a single successful event. Relationships are built over years, often without knowing when they will be needed. One official begins the work, the next continues it. Ministers and governments change. A new president is elected. A well‑functioning state's foreign policy must continue regardless.

We still tend to speak of the president's foreign‑policy role in terms of "introducing Estonia to the world." That was understandable in the 1990s, but for today's Estonia it is too small an ambition. The president now holds something far more valuable: decades of accumulated diplomatic capital. Access to other heads of state, the ability to maintain relationships when governments shift their day‑to‑day priorities, and an office whose influence can reach far beyond a single visit or term.

This capital can be used well, mediocrely or poorly. It can also be grown. Our presidencies have likely produced examples of all four.

Diplomatic capital does not activate itself. It needs a person who knows how to use it — and occasionally someone enters the office who does so exceptionally well. Lennart Meri, Toomas Hendrik Ilves and — though as prime minister, not president — Kaja Kallas were unusually bright lightning bolts in Estonia's foreign‑policy history. They show what an extraordinary individual can achieve when they look beyond the narrow confines of their role.

Therefore, when discussing the president's foreign‑policy role, we should ask less whether the next head of state "represents Estonia well." Of course they must. The more interesting question is: what kind of Estonia will they leave to their successor five years from now?

Are Estonia's relationships stronger? Do we have more people to call in a difficult moment? Have we succeeded in making issues important to us important to others? Has Estonia's diplomatic weight grown?

Working with the world's smallest states, I see every day how difficult it is to build international influence when starting from almost nothing. Estonia's great advantage is that we are not starting from zero — we are speaking of a foreign‑policy tradition decades old, with roots stretching back a century. Every government, diplomat and president holds that influence for a time, but what matters is what they do with it next.

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