In its darkest hour in decades, Europe needs a new Churchill

by Ana Palacio

Published: New Atlanticist, February 25 2025

This month’s Munich Security Conference—a longstanding space for forging transatlantic security and defense decisions since the Cold War—was marked by uncertainty. Europe, trapped in its internal doubts, is watching as the world unravels amid mounting challenges—the war in Ukraine, turmoil in the Middle East, pressure from China, and the erosion of the global order. And it is faltering, at best grasping for responses that fall short. A fundamental question underlies the web of wars and crises that Europe currently faces: What remains of the West, and what role does Europe want to play in it?

At the end of the Cold War, the idea of “the West and the rest” became the dominant framework for understanding global dynamics. But today, that dichotomy has faded. Many forces have contributed to this unraveling. But one figure stands at the center of the rupture: US President Donald Trump. After merely hinting at such a shift during his first term (which was underestimated as an anomaly), he has now made moves toward severing ties with the very concept of the West as a geopolitical bloc with a shared mission. His transactional view of international relations reduces NATO to a mere manager of immediate US interests and financial balances. The United States no longer wants to act as the natural anchor of the system it created. Washington has turned its back on the notion of being the “indispensable nation,” as Madeleine Albright aptly put it. For Europe, the question is no longer how to fit into Washington’s strategy, but how to make sense of what remains of the West: its foundation of rights and liberties, the rule of law, institutions, and multilateralism.

These days, including within the halls of the Hotel Bayerischer Hof, where the Munich Security Conference was held, there are endless references to history. In particular, there are frequent allusions to World War II, often drawing comparisons to the Potsdam Conference—no doubt a defining moment. The echoes of that July 1945 still resonate. With Germany defeated and the war in the Pacific still ongoing, the United States and the Soviet Union laid the groundwork for what would become the Cold War. While the official discussions focused on Germany’s fate and Europe’s reconstruction, in reality the continent’s division was cemented. The subsequent creation of the Warsaw Pact was the culmination of that negotiation, in which Moscow and Washington, rather than confronting each other outright, established a de facto balance. Europe, devastated and divided, was reduced to a chessboard where others moved the pieces. Europe and the United States eventually rose and embarked on a unique path of coordination and shared ambition that brought peace and prosperity.

Today, that project is under strain, and even European societies’ commitment to these defining principles is wavering. But the foundations remain. Europe can, and must, respond.

This is not the first time Europe has faced extreme darkness. In August 1941, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill crossed the Atlantic at a time of dire military prospects. Britain stood alone against Nazi Germany, which dominated the continent. Less than two months earlier, Germany had invaded the Soviet Union. The American public, deeply entrenched in one of the most pronounced isolationist phases of its history, wanted nothing to do with the war. And yet, off the coast of Newfoundland, aboard two naval ships, Churchill and US President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed the Atlantic Charter, delivering a resounding message of confidence. More importantly, it sketched the vision of the world to come.

Churchill’s audacity is staggering even today. Knowing that Europe’s fate was uncertain, he still managed to rise, lead, and chart a course—accepting painful sacrifices where necessary. It was not just about winning the war; it was also about shaping the international order that would follow. Some of the concessions he made were steep. The Atlantic Charter ended Britain’s “imperial preference” in trade, giving way to the free-market vision championed by the White House. It enshrined the principle of self-determination—effectively sealing the fate of the British Empire. And it laid the groundwork for multilateralism and for the United States to assume its role as the guarantor of a rules-based order. This was Roosevelt’s vision, even as he was unable to openly commit to war, constrained by an American public preoccupied with domestic concerns and a narrow understanding of what was at stake.

The parallel to today’s situation is striking. Once again, Europe finds itself at a critical moment. But unlike in 1941, there is no Churchill. There is no voice capable of articulating a clear project. The European Union wavers between technocracy and political impotence. The war in Ukraine has tested its leadership, and the result is, at best, ambivalent. There has been unity in sanctions on Russia, as well as in military support and backing for Kyiv. But a vision for the future is missing.

What role should Europe play in a world where the United States is disengaging from the traditional concept of the West? How can it develop real strategic autonomy and avoid slipping into irrelevance? What stance and objectives should it adopt toward China?

The Munich Security Conference offered no answers. The speeches were filled with warnings about looming threats but devoid of solutions. There was talk of more defense, more integration, more strategic autonomy—but without the conviction that these words corresponded to a concrete project.

Churchill had no certainties when, against all odds, he crossed the Atlantic in 1941. His journey was filled with risks—not just political but physical, with German submarines lurking across the ocean. But he understood that history is not decided by those who wait for favorable circumstances. That words matter. That leadership includes raising morale with substance and direction. Today, Europe must regain that boldness. It must be defined not only by what it opposes—Russian aggression, global instability, the threat of authoritarianism—but also by what it seeks to build.

Without a clear direction, without a voice that articulates purpose, Europe will remain a society burdened by an aging population, unsettled by the challenge of immigration, endowed with extraordinary levels of social welfare, and advanced in research (though disappointing in development), the protagonist of a grand internal construction project. But that project is self-absorbed, in a world that is redefining itself without it.

Just as in 1941, this is a dark moment. But history proves that “the darkest hour” is no excuse for inaction. Let us seek—and find—unity and leadership. And then, let us dare to act.