Faced with an aggressive Trump administration, an unapologetic Russia and a rising China, European efforts towards strategic autonomy may be too little, too late
The World Economic Forum in Davos has long been the high cathedral of globalisation, a place where the “Davos Man” devours a borderless world governed by the rules of the market and mutual gain. But a few days ago, that era ended.
US President Donald Trump’s speech at Davos was essentially a wrecking ball swung at the foundations of the transatlantic alliance (if it still exists). By doubling down on aggressive, transactional rhetoric against European nations that he sees as free-riders, Trump signalled the definitive return of raw realpolitik. This is the “Donroe Doctrine”, the Monroe Doctrine updated for the 2020s, a US closed-door policy that treats Europe not as a partner but as a frontier to be managed – or exploited.
The White House’s 2025 National Security Strategy introduced a “Trump corollary” to the Monroe Doctrine, signalling a massive shift in American priorities. The strategy explicitly commits to reasserting US dominance over its own hemisphere, withdrawing the attention and resources that once anchored the transatlantic alliance to focus on its “near abroad”. This pivot is not merely theoretical – the attack on the Maduro administration in Venezuela served as the opening salvo of this new era.
By prioritising the Americas, the US has recast Europe from a coequal ally into a frontier that must be corrected or managed. The strategy probably marks the end of the era of shared Western leadership.
We are witnessing the beginning of Europe’s own “century of humiliation”. Just as China’s late Qing dynasty was forced to navigate the ambitions of Western powers in the 19th century, Europe is now seeing its sovereignty and resources being chipped away in the name of the US’ interests and security.
To stay in Washington’s good graces – particularly to preserve the Nato partnership that is the security foundation of the European continent – Europe is paying a heavy price. It is handing over its own power in exchange for a seat at a table where it no longer calls the shots.
Signs of this decline are everywhere. European businesses are planning to pull back on investing in the continent. The handling of the war in Ukraine now looks more like a tool for American interests than a way to bring peace and security back to Europe. European decline is most clear in the loss of influence over Greenland. These are signs of a continent that has lost control of its own future.
Europe is paralysed by the very real threat from Russia and remains deeply wary of Beijing, yet cannot escape dependence on China to balance its economy away from the US. This attempt to walk a vague “middle path” is not a strategy; it is a symptom of decay. It exposes a weakening power that has lost its place as an independent player in the realm of high politics.
We seem to be watching a de facto “Scramble for Europe”. Anyone who knows modern Chinese history will recall the “Scramble for China” in the 19th century, when Western imperial powers carved up the Chinese Middle Kingdom into “spheres of influence”. The parallels are striking, even if the tools have changed.
In the 1800s, the scramble was about grabbing territory, treaty ports, resources, security concessions and even control over China’s diplomacy. In the 21st century, the “Scramble for Europe” follows a similar script and footprint. The powers doing the carving are no longer European empires, but Russia, China and the United States.
The “century of humiliation” was a period when the Qing dynasty failed to recognise the changing nature of global power until the gates were already breached. European leaders today seem trapped in a similar state of denial.
They continue to speak the language of “values-based diplomacy” while their rivals are playing the game of interest-based dominance. They have forgotten a fundamental truth of geopolitics: in the absence of hard power and clear-eyed realism, a nation – or a continent – ceases to have a seat at the table and instead becomes an item on the menu. If Europe cannot reconcile its internal divisions and recognise that its traditional protector has become its primary predator, it will find itself partitioned into spheres of influence once again.
Reality is cruel. The current buzzword echoing through the corridors of Brussels and Paris is “strategic autonomy” – a term that, to any student of Chinese history, carries the echo of the late-Qing “Self-Strengthening Movement”. Much like that weakened dynasty scrambling to modernise its defences and reform its internal politics only after its gates had been breached, Europe now finds itself playing a terrifying and desperate game of catch-up.
When French President Emmanuel Macron first championed “strategic autonomy” in 2017, his continental peers largely dismissed it as idealism or an unwelcome distraction from a comfortable status quo. Today, however, as the “Scramble for Europe” intensifies, those European leaders are painfully revisiting Macron’s early warnings.
Lo and behold, Tesla CEO Elon Musk’s recent opening session at Davos featured a joke that should have promoted disquiet among European leaders. Referencing US President Donald Trump’s Board of Peace for Gaza, he said: “I heard about the formation of the peace summit, and I was like, is that p‑i‑e‑c‑e?” As the crowd chuckled, he added: “You know, a little piece of Greenland, a little piece of Venezuela.”
I feel a sense of dread that the European Union’s efforts towards strategic autonomy might be too little, too late.
