The future of the West: between unity and a crisis in internal relations

The United States and Europe, for two centuries the heart of the West, are now divided. And the East is re-emerging on the world stage as a global power. Is the West therefore in decline, as foretold in a famous book published between 1918 and 1923?

“We, as civilisations, now know that we are mortal” (Paul Valéry, La Crise de l’esprit, in Œuvres, IV, Éditions de la N.R.F., 1934, p. 13). Written in 1919, this sentence belongs to a Europe that had just discovered it was capable of destroying itself. More than a century later, the question resurfaces, but the subject has changed: the focus is now on the West, a community with shifting boundaries, for which both victory and decline are alternately proclaimed. To understand the crisis, we must distinguish between three processes: the loss of global primacy, the weakening of bonds between allies, and the erosion of liberal institutions. These may feed into one another, but they have different causes and require different remedies.

The West has ancient ancestors and a relatively recent political name. The contrast between East and West, the division of the Roman Empire and that of Christendom are not sufficient to explain its meaning today. Athens, Rome, Jerusalem and the Enlightenment have become elements of a subsequent genealogy, which tends to transform encounters and conflicts into an orderly succession. Ancient thought reached medieval Europe partly through Arab and Jewish scholars. No tradition has developed in isolation.

Georgios Varouxakis clarifies his intention: “A history of what many different people have meant by ‘the West’” (The West: The History of an Idea, Princeton University Press, 2025, p. XVII). His research traces the formation of the concept to the first half of the nineteenth century and attributes a decisive role to Auguste Comte, particularly from 1842 onwards. The category emerges when ‘Europe’ and ‘Christianity’ no longer suffice to describe with sufficient precision the community that certain thinkers wish to describe or construct.

In the 20th century, the world wars shifted the centre of power from Europe to the United States; the Cold War brought the Western bloc into sharp relief. The North Atlantic Treaty Organisation and European integration gave organisational substance to this identity. The North Atlantic Treaty of 1949 enshrined democracy, individual freedom and the rule of law. However, the presence of authoritarian Portugal among the founding members serves as a reminder that strategic alliance and a community of values have never coincided perfectly.

In 1950, Raymond Aron wrote that there is no single concept of the West: the term has been used to mean many different things. More recently, Varouxakis observed that every attempt to give this term a precise meaning has failed. Yet we continue to speak of Western civilisation, Western customs, Western techniques and Western values.

In a review of Naoise Mac Sweeney’s book, The West: A New History of an Old Idea (London: Allen, 2023), written by L. F. Ivings (The Journal of Classics Teaching, 2024), it is observed that cultural and social notions change very rapidly and that there is no direct lineage for the idea of the West. Ultimately, the formation of the idea of the West between the nineteenth and twentieth centuries stemmed from many crossroads in the ideological and historical landscape. It is sometimes rightly associated solely with imperialism and militarism. The West’s capacity for transformation over time should be regarded as one of its key characteristics and not counted amongst those elements that are obscuring and corrosive. The West can still endure because, much like democracy, it may well be imperfect, but at present it is the best system we have.

The historian Andrea Graziosi, in his book Occidenti e modernità. Vedere un mondo nuovo (Bologna: il Mulino, 2023, p. 12), observed that “the ‘West’ is an intellectual category; it is therefore fluid, both historically and geographically. It is, however, possible to link its various incarnations—from the Athenian model to the present-day one—to the value of individual freedom and dignity, which can be expressed in different ways and have always developed alongside and in tandem with oppression and injustice”.

What does the West encompass? The answer depends on the criteria used. The political core includes democratic Europe, North America, Australia and New Zealand. Linguistic, religious and legal legacies bring much of Latin America closer to the West. Institutions and alliances include Japan and South Korea. Turkey is a member of NATO, but does not allow itself to be defined solely by this membership. The maps overlap: the military coalition, cultural tradition and economic sphere do not coincide.

Culture, after all, transcends political divides. Opposing the Russian government does not mean expelling Tolstoy from European literature. Recognising the Christian heritage does not make faith a prerequisite for citizenship. A democratic identity is measured by its practices: freedom of criticism, checks on power, pluralism, the protection of minorities, and the possibility of peacefully changing the government.

The literature on the ‘decline’ offers a more radical diagnosis. “Cultures are organisms, and universal history is their collective biography,” wrote Oswald Spengler in his famous book The Decline of the West (Italian trans., Milan: Longanesi, 2017). In the book, first published in German in 1918, Western civilisation follows a trajectory of birth, maturation and decline. Technical power may increase whilst creative capacity is depleted. Spengler also writes that every culture has its own civilisation. The latter denotes the final, rigid phase of a culture, not merely its progress. Wealth and technical power may indeed grow alongside cultural impoverishment. But the biological analogy does not prove that societies are bound to experience old age. Institutions can learn and incorporate new groups.

Franz Werfel draws attention to the inner life of the individual. “Technology is our terrible fate. We must not succumb to it” (Realismus und Innerlichkeit, in Zwischen Oben und Unten, edited by A. D. Klarmann, Langen Müller, 1975, p. 19).

The crisis in internal relations stems primarily from a shift in the balance between security, prosperity and consensus. In the post-war period, American protection, the opening up of markets and, in Europe, the welfare state appeared to be part of the same project. Today, defence requires resources, an ageing population is putting pressure on services, and changes in the economy are redistributing opportunities and risks. When citizens perceive international openness as a decision whose benefits accrue to others, support for cooperation weakens.

Innovation, fiscal policy and the quality of education influence the distribution of benefits. The divide between those who can move freely and those who are tied to a particular place is crucial – between cities connected to global markets and regions that are losing their functions. Institutions must address these divisions without turning them into hostility. Democracy loses credibility when it demands constant adaptation without offering the tools to cope with it.

A second rift concerns the relationship between the majority and constitutional limits. An election confers the right to govern within common rules; it does not make the winner the owner of the state. The weakening of parliamentary checks and balances, the attack on the independence of the judiciary and the delegitimisation of the media reduce the possibility of correcting mistakes. The V-Dem Report 2026 notes a deterioration in democracy even in Western Europe and North America, whilst acknowledging their comparatively high standards. The threat may therefore develop within systems that present themselves as guardians of freedom.

Reforming inefficient institutions strengthens constitutionalism; subjecting them to a single leader, on the other hand, eliminates independent oversight. Competent administrations, a swift justice system and a free press enable citizens to make decisions without being dependent on the goodwill of those in power.

The third rift runs across the Atlantic. The United States is calling on Europeans to make a greater contribution to security; Europe still depends on American military capability, whilst seeking greater autonomy. On the economic front, competition centres on tariffs, subsidies, technologies and digital regulations. The 2025 trade negotiations demonstrated just how asymmetrical the relationship can become, even between allies. Differences in interests are normal; it becomes a crisis of the alliance when shared commitments are treated as revocable concessions and every relationship is measured solely by immediate gain. Predictability is itself a source of power.

Yet the economic data tells a different story from that of separation. According to the Council of the European Union, trade in goods and services between the EU and the United States reached approximately 1,770 billion euros in 2025, based on provisional figures. Cumulative two-way direct investment exceeded 4,800 billion in 2024. These are different measures – one an annual flow and the other a stock – but both indicate a depth of integration that political controversy tends to obscure. Businesses, workers, research centres and savers share common interests. Interdependence increases the cost of a break-up; it does not, in itself, guarantee the will to avoid it.

Robert D. Kaplan captures this ambivalence: “We are building a truly global civilisation that connects us all, and that is the challenge” (Waste Land: A World in Permanent Crisis, Random House, 2025, p. 6). The reference to the Weimar Republic serves to illustrate the imbalance between interconnectedness and the capacity for governance. A local crisis can spread through finance, migration, communications and supply chains. Technical proximity does not necessarily create political solidarity: it can convey fear and hostility. His analysis urges us to take the fragility of the international order and the unintended consequences of decisions seriously.

However, the analogy must be examined carefully. Today’s democracies possess different resources and histories. Furthermore, order can either protect freedom or stifle it. Interdependence must be managed through public capacity and verifiable accountability. Efficiency without safeguards leaves one exposed to arbitrariness; safeguards without implementation leave rights merely on paper.

In the globalised world, the West’s influence has declined relatively, but it would be incorrect to conclude that it has disappeared. The World Trade Organisation notes that the share of low- and middle-income countries in world trade in goods has risen from 23 per cent in 1995 to 45 per cent in 2024. This economic classification does not coincide with the distinction between the West and the rest of the world, but it illustrates the spread of production and trade centres. The success of other countries curtails the West’s monopoly on opportunities; it does not, in itself, prove the failure of Western societies. Part of this transformation is the result of the spread of knowledge and institutions that the West itself has promoted.

Significant financial, scientific and cultural resources remain. The dollar and the euro retain central roles in the international monetary system. However, the appeal of universities and markets depends on accessibility, regulatory certainty and the freedom to work. Those who close these channels in order to defend national prestige may be undermining a source of their own influence.

The West must therefore learn to operate within a system in which many countries wish to choose their own partners. The so-called Global South is not a homogeneous entity: commercial interests, political regimes and security priorities diverge. Demanding total allegiance risks narrowing the scope for possible cooperation. It is more useful to offer credible agreements, market access, scientific collaboration and adequate representation within shared institutions. Attractiveness is also measured by a willingness to respect the autonomy of those who agree to cooperate without recognising any supremacy.

For Europe, the single market shapes the rules, but the fragmentation of decision-making reduces the capacity to act. Defence, energy, research and infrastructure require cooperation. This must go hand in hand with political accountability: citizens must understand who makes the decisions and be able to hold them to account for the results. Shared sovereignty has value when it broadens the democratic capacity to choose.

The crisis facing the West hinges on the relationship between the universality of principles and the particularity of interests. Rights and the rule of law lose their persuasive power if invoked solely against adversaries. Acknowledging one’s own violations allows for a more coherent policy; denying them transforms values into tools for taking sides. The classics raise questions about the vitality of culture, human ends, the historicity of identities and the fragility of connections. The West will have a future if it makes its institutions worthy of the principles it proclaims and is able to share a world that it can no longer govern alone.

Oswald Spengler, The Decline of the West: An Outline of a Morphology of World History, vol. I, Form and Reality, Munich, C. H. Beck, 1920, Introduction, § 13, pp. 54–55.

“The Roman Empire no longer appears […] as a unique phenomenon, but as the natural product of a rigorous and energetic mindset, characteristic of metropolises and eminently practical, and as a typical final state, which has already occurred on several occasions but has never before been recognised as such. We finally understand that the secret of historical form is not to be found on the surface and cannot be grasped through similarities in custom or setting; that in human history, as in the history of animals and plants, there exist phenomena of deceptive similarity, internally devoid of any affinity: Charlemagne and Harun al-Rashid, Alexander and Caesar, the Germanic wars against Rome and the Mongol invasions of Western Europe; and others which, despite the greatest external diversity, express something identical: Trajan and Ramses II, the Bourbons and the Attic demos, Muhammad and Pythagoras. We recognise that the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, regarded as the culmination of a universal history advancing in a straight line, are in reality, as a phenomenon, to be found in every culture that has reached its full maturity: not in the form of socialists, Impressionists, electric railways, torpedoes and differential equations—which belong solely to the fabric of the era—but in its civilisational mindset, which may also take on entirely different outward forms. The present therefore represents a transitional stage which, under certain conditions, manifests itself with certainty; there are therefore well-defined states following on from those of modern Western Europe, which have already appeared more than once in past history. The future of the West is therefore not an unlimited ascent and progress towards our current ideals over fantastical spans of time, but a single historical phenomenon, strictly limited in form and duration, inevitably determined, spanning a few centuries, which the available examples allow us to take in at a glance and calculate in its essential features.”