Europe’s midlife reckoning Why decline could be liberating

The New York Times essay reads like a sober postmortem of Europe’s global standing, framed through the bleak but familiar lens of Michel Houellebecq. The novelist’s long-standing pessimism is used not merely as cultural garnish, but as a diagnostic tool: Europe, once convinced of its historical centrality, is now confronting the possibility that decline is not temporary, but structural. The article’s strength lies in how it transforms this anxiety into a broader political argument rather than indulging in nostalgia or alarmism.

At its core, the piece argues that Europe’s malaise is real, but often mischaracterised. The problem is not simply that Europe lacks a Silicon Valley or cannot match the GDP figures of demographic giants. Rather, Europe has been “provincialised” — reduced from a rule-setter to a rule-taker. The war in Ukraine serves as the most striking example: despite its proximity and stakes, the European Union appears secondary to Washington in shaping outcomes. This loss of agency, more than economic stagnation alone, defines the continent’s predicament.

Importantly, the author rejects both apocalyptic despair and triumphalist denial. Decline, the essay suggests, need not be catastrophic if it is acknowledged honestly. In fact, it could be liberating. After a century in which Europe exercised disproportionate influence — often with destructive consequences — a reduced role might allow for a more modest, pragmatic politics. This reframing is one of the article’s most compelling moves: it treats decline not as a moral failure, but as a historical transition requiring adaptation.

Where the piece becomes most pointed is in its critique of existing policy responses. Across the political spectrum, Europe’s answers are portrayed as inadequate or counterproductive. The far right’s instinct to seal Europe off behind ethnic and cultural walls is dismissed as economically and morally bankrupt. The centre’s faith in remilitarisation and vague “technological sovereignty” risks deepening dependence on the United States rather than overcoming it. Meanwhile, parts of the left oscillate between isolationism and passive acceptance of retreat.

The proposed alternative — a “politics of decline,” borrowing from Eric Hobsbawm — is deliberately provocative. Internally, it calls for breaking with decades of fiscal austerity and neoliberal orthodoxy, arguing that without serious public investment, competitiveness will remain a slogan rather than a reality. Politically, it advocates deeper centralisation and pooled sovereignty, a sensitive proposition in a continent historically wary of concentrated power but arguably unavoidable if Europe is to act coherently.

Externally, the essay’s most controversial suggestion is the need for “critical integration” with China. Rather than treating Beijing solely as a rival or threat, the author urges conditional cooperation, especially on climate and industrial policy, while maintaining safeguards on trade and labour standards. This heterodox approach directly challenges Brussels’ Atlantic reflex and underscores the article’s broader thesis: clinging to old alliances and habits may accelerate, rather than arrest, decline.

Ultimately, the piece does not promise renewal in the grand, heroic sense. Instead, it advocates something more modest — what British football fans would call “midtable stability.” Europe may no longer dominate the global order, but it can still secure prosperity, social cohesion, and relevance if it abandons illusions of grandeur. In that sense, the essay is less an elegy for Europe than a call for grown-up realism in an unforgiving world.

By Vugar Khalilov