Former British Prime Minister Boris Johnson, speaking at the Center for European Policy Analysis (CEPA) on 12 April 2024, said that if Ukraine falls, ‘it will look like the beginning of the end of American hegemony, like the beginning of the end of Western hegemony’. The remark is striking in its deliberate repetition of the term hegemony – once qualified as American and once as Western.
Four years into the war, Ukraine has not fallen. Yet the former prime minister’s words reveal more than anxiety about Kyiv’s fate. They implicitly draw a distinction between two forms of predominance – American and Western – while at the same time conflating them within a single line of argument. That conflation is increasingly exposed as an error.
Ukraine is unlikely to collapse, and American hegemony is therefore unlikely to disintegrate on a global scale. What is more probable is a transformation: from a universalist ‘guarantor of order’ to a power that conceives of the United States chiefly as a continental project, calibrating its foreign commitments according to transactions and immediate returns.
The decline of European power
Western hegemony is in a far weaker condition. Euro-Atlanticism – the notion that Europe and the United States form a single political and strategic community capable of attracting others – is eroding. Europe has diminished, ceased to function as a magnet and, rather than acting as a geopolitical force, increasingly resembles a space whose security must be guaranteed by others. The war in Ukraine is therefore not only a story of Russian aggression and Ukrainian resistance. It is also a story of Europe’s waning weight as a global actor.
At the beginning of the century, the old continent still counted as a partner able to say no and accept the consequences of its foreign policy. When the US invasion of Iraq was being prepared in 2003, Jacques Chirac refused to join the war and declared that Paris would not support a resolution of the UN Security Council authorising the use of force. That episode marked the last significant moment in which Europe acted as a player capable of obstructing a US decision and advancing its own strategic course.
At the start of the 21st century, Europe could still say ‘no’ and bear the consequences. A decade later, it no longer behaved as a sovereign pole but increasingly as a mechanism for managing crises. After 2014, the Minsk process unfolded within two interlinked frameworks.
Practical negotiations were conducted by the Trilateral Contact Group – comprising Ukraine, Russia and the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe – while political weight rested with the so-called Normandy format, which brought together Ukraine, Russia, France and Germany. Europe remained at the table, yet no longer as a cohesive ‘West’, but as two states attempting to contain a fire on their own continent. Even Angela Merkel later suggested that Minsk had not been conceived as a definitive settlement, but as a means of buying time.
That points to a deeper structural problem. The decisive strategic choices on European security were not taken in Brussels, but within NATO, an alliance in which the United States is the pivotal power. The European Union could co-ordinate sanctions and diplomacy, yet military planning, deterrence and the long-term security architecture lay beyond its direct authority. Europe therefore did not act as a unified strategic pole, but as a group of states dependent on a transatlantic framework that was never entirely under their control.
Before the full-scale invasion in 2022, Emmanuel Macron sought to restore Europe’s role as mediator by holding intensive telephone conversations with Vladimir Putin and attempting to negotiate de-escalation. After the attack, however, those channels were gradually suspended or froze. Although reports later suggested that direct contact had been resumed after a prolonged hiatus, that amounted to an episode rather than a genuine return of Europe to the centre of decision-making.
A further shift then followed. Key talks began to unfold along the Washington–Moscow axis, as a matter of course and without European participation. The Trump–Putin summit in Alaska in August 2025 was presented as a bilateral encounter and publicly staged as proof that ‘big things’ are decided by two major powers, with Europe relegated to the role of consultant or, at best, an afterthought.
In other words, Europe is no longer automatically present at the most consequential meetings. That is the essence of the war’s verdict on Europe’s diminished power.
Economic and moral losses
The old continent has not only seen its international standing diminished by the conflict; the economic consequences have also been profound. Europe – Germany in particular – has lost the model on which much of its prosperity rested: inexpensive energy from Russia combined with exports to global markets. The imposition of far-reaching sanctions on Moscow sharply curtailed trade flows and reduced export opportunities.
The American market did not compensate for that contraction. On the contrary, after taking office, Donald Trump imposed tariffs on goods from a long-standing ally. A similar shift occurred in the energy sphere. Europe succeeded in replacing Russian supplies, but largely with more expensive liquefied natural gas, for which it must now compete with Asian buyers. Given the continent’s comparatively weak growth dynamics, remaining an attractive destination for suppliers will not be straightforward.
Dependence on Russian gas has thus been replaced by reliance on American liquefied natural gas (LNG). Because such exports improve the US trade balance, the political price of that new dependence may prove higher than anticipated.
With Donald Trump closely monitoring trade figures, the temptation to press European partners for further concessions is evident.
Fiscal pressures have also intensified as a result of higher defence spending. Even the recent increases will not create armed forces capable of matching Russia in a direct confrontation. They have, however, widened budget deficits and diverted resources from sectors such as healthcare and education, which are central to long-term prosperity.
Europe’s moral authority has also been tested. It has called for exemplary punishment of Russia for breaching international law and has urged states far removed from the conflict to take a clear stance. At the same time, it has been accused of downplaying or overlooking other conflicts in which international law was likewise violated. As a consequence, part of its moral capital has been eroded.
Self-reflection as a path to renewal
The price Europe has paid for the war in Ukraine is severe. The conflict has laid bare military weakness, industrial unpreparedness and strategic dependence. Above all, it has underscored that the central questions of Europe’s security architecture are still decided elsewhere.
That does not render the situation hopeless. Decline becomes irreversible only when an actor refuses to acknowledge its own misjudgements. The worst response would be to comfort ourselves with the claim that ‘if we had sent more money’ or ‘if we had deployed a European army’, the outcome would automatically have been different. Such reasoning obscures a more fundamental deficiency. The problem is not merely the volume of resources, but the absence of a coherent strategy, political resolve and a readiness to bear the costs.
To err is human; to persist in error is to entrench decline. If Europe intends to remain a relevant global actor, it must recognise that its authority did not unravel in Moscow, but within its own structures of decision-making. Only through such self-examination can genuine renewal emerge, not as nostalgia for a Euro-Atlantic golden age, but as a redefinition of European power.