On strength, restraint, and the price of preserving our way of life

People in Europe are among the most protected citizens on Earth. From food safety to social security, from the functioning of the justice system to the pluralism of counter-powers, we benefit from a level of institutional and social protection that remains exceptional on a global scale. This protection is not only the result of wealth, but of political choices, legal frameworks and collective restraint accumulated over time.

It is reinforced by other factors we often take for granted: the diversity and proximity of our landscapes and cultures, and generally mild yet varied climates. Together, history and environment have shaped our societies, our expectations of the state, and our sense of what a dignified life should entail. This way of living feels natural to us precisely because it has been sustained long enough to appear self-evident.

Yet it is neither accidental nor guaranteed. It is the outcome of centuries of conflict, compromise and discipline, and it persists only as long as we are willing to preserve it. Recognising this does not require pride, but lucidity. And lucidity, sooner or later, forces us to confront the price of what we value.

Europe is not the World

As ordinary citizens, we often forget that this level of well-being is far from being the global norm. Despite constant access to information and news from across the world, we rarely grasp how exceptional our daily reality truly is, or how it is perceived from the outside.

In many regions, citizens live in far harsher conditions, with limited protection of their rights, weaker access to healthcare, fragile institutions, or no real guarantee of personal security. In such environments, survival rather than stability shapes priorities. Culture, social organisation and political behaviour inevitably adapt to these constraints.

Where protection is scarce and resources limited, power tends to concentrate. The imbalance between ordinary citizens and those who control wealth, force or information becomes structural. Whether they are heads of companies, organisations, media groups or states, some actors will seek domination, control or appropriation. This is not always driven by malice, but often by systems that reward such behaviour.

Judging these realities through a European lens is tempting, but misleading. Our norms are not neutral. They are the product of specific historical and material conditions. Outside of them, different rules apply.

Power governs international relations, not laws

As citizens, we are accustomed to living within a stable legal framework. Laws apply to us regardless of our status, and justice, however imperfect, is meant to be enforced by institutions stronger than any individual. This experience shapes our expectations of order, fairness and accountability.

International relations operate on a different plane. States may sign treaties, join organisations, and publicly commit to shared principles, but they remain sovereign actors. Their adherence to agreements is conditional and reversible. When interests shift, treaties can be suspended, ignored, or abandoned altogether, even within frameworks such as the United Nations or the World Trade Organisation.

This reality was explained particularly clearly by a former French ambassador whom I heard recently in a podcast. Having served in many countries, including as France’s envoy to the United States, he described diplomacy not as a realm governed by law, but as one shaped primarily by power, leverage and timing. Agreements matter, but only insofar as the balance of power makes them useful.

Outrage, therefore, has limited effect when it is not backed by the ability to act. Condemning violations of norms or withdrawing from trade relations may satisfy a moral impulse, but it does not prevent other states from stepping in. Retaliation is difficult when dependencies are asymmetric, and principles alone rarely constrain actors who face no meaningful consequences.

This is not a moral judgement. It is a structural observation. International order exists, but it is fragile, negotiated, and constantly tested. Mistaking it for the domestic rule of law leads to strategic blindness.

The limits of openness and liberal trade

For decades, Europe believed that its model could be extended beyond its borders. Opening markets, liberalising trade and encouraging economic interdependence were seen not only as tools for prosperity, but also as instruments of stability. The underlying assumption was that economic integration would encourage convergence, foster cooperation, and gradually align political and social norms.

This approach was not naïve. It was shaped by Europe’s own post-war experience, where economic integration helped bind former adversaries and reduce incentives for conflict. The success of this model within Europe, and later through global frameworks such as the WTO , reinforced the belief that openness could be mutually beneficial and politically pacifying.

However, openness is not neutral. In a world where not all actors play by the same rules, it can create asymmetries. Some states and organisations benefit from access to open markets without reciprocating in terms of transparency, labour standards, environmental protection or political accountability. Economic interdependence then ceases to be a stabilising force and becomes a lever of influence.

When trade is decoupled from shared constraints, it can undermine the very systems that made openness possible in the first place. Strategic sectors are weakened, critical supply chains become vulnerable, and economic pressure can be transformed into political leverage. The problem is not trade itself, but the assumption that trade alone is sufficient to produce alignment.

Dependency is a strategic weakness

Strategic dependency is often discussed in abstract terms, yet it manifests itself in ordinary, daily choices. It can be as simple as consuming food that is produced far away, out of season, because it is cheaper or more readily available. Over time, such habits reshape production, erode local capacity, and create reliance on external supply chains.

At a larger scale, dependency affects entire regions and industries. When production is concentrated elsewhere, domestic capabilities decline. Employment opportunities narrow, skills are lost, and societies become structurally dependent on sectors over which they have little control. This dependence limits not only economic options, but also political room for manoeuvre.

Reducing dependency is not without cost. It implies fewer choices, higher prices, and a reallocation of labour and investment. It may require accepting that certain goods are less available, or that careers are more closely tied to regional industrial needs. These are not minor adjustments. They affect standards of living and expectations that have become deeply ingrained.

Yet dependency is never neutral. It constrains collective decision-making. When essential resources, technologies or infrastructures are controlled elsewhere, the ability to act independently is reduced. In such conditions, sovereignty becomes conditional, and political principles risk being subordinated to material necessity.

Conclusion

Europe stands at a crossroads. The conditions that shaped its prosperity, stability and social protections can no longer be assumed to exist indefinitely. They depend on a world that is less forgiving, less predictable, and less aligned with European expectations than we once believed.

The choice ahead is not between openness and isolation, nor between ideals and realism. It is about coherence. It requires deciding what Europe stands for, what it is willing to protect, and what costs it is prepared to bear to do so. This cannot be achieved by blaming others for our vulnerabilities, nor by denying that trade-offs exist.

Such a choice demands an honest public debate. Not one driven by fear or the pursuit of power, but by a shared understanding of limits, responsibilities and priorities. Environmental protection, defence, innovation and social solidarity cannot all be maximised without constraint. Choosing is unavoidable.

In a world governed less by intention than by power, unity is not a moral posture but a condition for survival. A union of lambs does not become strong by pretending the wolves do not exist. It becomes strong by acting together, with clarity, discipline, resolve, and the readiness to relinquish comfort in order to sustain our values and our future.