"The West," and the Future of Power on the European Continent
Western Europe's crisis of national self-confidence, and what leadership really means.
Why do us, the politically inclined, gravitate so much towards the term “the West?” Clearly, a club of countries including everyone from the U.S. to Italy to Japan to Australia transcends Western Europe, let alone the Western hemisphere. Instead, the West is a club of economically developed liberal democracies born out of Western Europe that has just so happened to have expanded to North America, Asia, and Oceania.
Membership criteria for this club is nebulous, of course. Being in groups like the EU and NATO are decent but not infallible indicators, as Hungary is in both but isn’t especially liberal or democratic these days. Likewise, there are liberal democracies, like Iceland, Ireland, and Switzerland, who aren’t members of at least one of those organizations. Still, the body politic seems certain about if most states are part of “the West” or not; when you use the term “the West,” most people intuitively know what you mean. “The West” is an easy-to-use, easy-to-understand term, and anti-Western autocrats like Putin habitually use it too, so despite its baggage, I wouldn’t feel bad about using “the West” in writing and speech.
In any case, before the creation of NATO or the rise of the U.S., “the West” referred to Western Europe. Western Europe, the cradle of the Western club, the Catholic, and later Protestant West, the West which was more advanced and developed in the realm of economics, science, and culture than the Orthodox East, was at the forefront of modernity. The Renaissance began in Milan, not in Minsk. The Enlightenment bloomed in Paris, not in Perm. The Scientific Method was utilized first in London, not in Lvov. Humanism prospered in Vienna, not in Volgograd. And so on. Countries like France thus don’t just view themselves as a peripheral member of the Western club, but as a core vanguard of “the West” and as a permanent great power.
This is an intentionally condescending retelling of history. Fine art and liberalism alike belong to all regardless of where the ideas emerged, and Eastern Europe, let alone everyone outside the Western club, deserves the dignity of not being talked down to. But that does not mean that Western Europe does not see itself as the vanguard of modernity regardless. And now, Western Europe, particularly France, Germany, and Italy, are experiencing a crisis of collective self-confidence and national identity directly tied to their perceived role as Western progress’ guarantor.
I will concede to having always quite liked Emmanuel Macron, in great part due to his cartoonishly ballooned ego. Whether it was Macron comparing himself to the Roman god Jupiter, or transparently trying to steal Zelenskyy’s thunder by dressing up in a hoodie and going without shaving for a couple days, as if calling Putin nearly approximates actual wartime leadership. He’s an egomaniac in the funnest ways possible without posing an existential threat to French democracy (ala Trump in the US), but thanks in great part to the geopolitical developments of the past year-and-a-half, he represents much of what is wrong with modern pan-European politics, something perfectly highlighted in his disastrous trip to Beijing earlier this month.
The ongoing war against Ukraine is a terribly unique crisis for the 21st century, and thus, responding to it has become the foreign policy issue that European leaders have had to confront. The response of Europe to the war has been mixed, and, in much of Western Europe, informed by the whims of big business. Though Germany has been the most reluctant to wholeheartedly back Ukraine in their existential struggle against Russian imperialism, the French and Italian business communities are likewise eager for the war to end, regardless of the outcome. While French, German and Italian business are not cheerleading the indiscriminate slaughter and deportation of Ukrainians, they do want the war to end as soon as possible so they can start doing business again in Russia guilt-free.
Of course, France and Germany are still publically supportive of the Ukrainians, all while many other countries of lesser traditional relevance, like India and South Africa, are nowhere nearly as emphatic in opposing Russian aggression. The French, Germans and Italians could easily have much worse policies vis-à-vis Ukraine. Indeed, the main reason to criticize them isn’t just for not being supportive enough of Ukraine, but that they aren’t supportive of Ukraine enough and yet still smugly act like they are Europe’s leaders by birthright alone. When war waged by a democracy is a war of choice, like in the War in Iraq, the Germans and French spurned America’s foreign policy. Regardless of one’s opinion on the Iraq War, it was a war of choice, and France and Germany vocally chose not to participate. That was, at least, leadership in some capacity by Paris and Berlin. The Ukrainian War, conversely, is not a war of choice but a war of survival. The Ukrainians have no choice but to fight, and the question for the West is just how much assistance and support the Ukrainians will receive in response. Thus, leadership in Ukraine cannot be by sitting out the war. Leadership instead is constructive engagement with Ukrainian leadership and consistent material support. By this metric, the French and Germans are not leading in the Wests. These countries regularly signal that Ukraine should enter bad-faith negotiations with Russia all because the war inconveniences them
The French and German attitude towards European leadership reflects an ongoing attitude of national self-confidence. These are societies (both leadership and the public think this way) that used to being great powers, each with their own spheres of influence and the power to confront other great powers on relatively equal grounds. Now, French and German power and influence, let alone any notions of Italian power, are both relatively and effectively declining, but their expectations of their own power have not adjusted as such. This is what I mean by saying that France and Germany view their European leadership as their birthright; they are European leaders because they just are, rather than by actually leading. Thus, when Macron went to China and condemned both American predominance over the Western club and signalled that “Europe” (France) may abandon Taiwan to their fate if invaded, and when French diplomats encouraged Canada to disengage from the U.S. and reorient ourselves to Europe and China, he was displaying this national anxiety and its role in domestic politics. The French public expect French politicians to emphasize their freedom from American foreign policy domination, and French business wants to keep ties with China. Macron can then go and make asinine statements all while hoping that another war, this time in the Indo-Pacific, won’t break out, and still comfortably enjoying security under the NATO umbrella.
So which Western countries have been engaging in leadership in Ukraine? The United States, of course. The United Kingdom as well. Arguably Canada, but that may be patriotism colouring my vision there. But most especially, Poland, the Czech Republic, and the Baltic Republics of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia. Those five last countries decidedly do not belong to the traditional conception of the Western club, and both the United Kingdom and the United States both electorally made decisions that weakened their commitment to the Western bloc.
Poland deserves a tremendous amount of criticism. The Law and Order Party (PiS) which governs Poland have attempted to undermine the Polish judiciary; not long ago, it sure seemed like they were steering Poland towards the same autocratic fate of Hungary. Likewise, Poland has some of Europe’s most restrictive and cruel abortion laws. Overall, the PiS has implemented a programme of political Catholicism. They are not good actors, yet they have been unwaveringly and bravely pro-Ukrainian. Likewise, the United Kingdom is hardly different from France and Germany, insofar as that their days as a great power are over, further accentuated by Brexit. These are not the countries that should be singularly leading on Ukraine, but by claiming the mantle of leadership without actually leading, they are irrevocably shifting the balance of power on the European continent. By making decisions based on national ego and appeasing big business, France and Germany are undermining what influence they have left; if Estonia, for example, were invaded by Russia next, do you honestly think that the French and Germans will be the first countries they look to for help? Of course not.
If France and Germany want to be leading powers, within their means, in Europe, then they must actually engage in leadership. For now, they are dwelling in their own decline and focused instead on comfortable, short-sighted policy that will drain them of what little prestige that distinguishes them in the international system that they have left, and instead cede authority to Europe’s reactionaries.