2 March, 2026
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15 minutes to read
Since the late 1980s, when Georgia began fighting to restore its statehood, the idea of the West has served as a guiding light. This implied that Georgia’s independence had to be buttressed by joining the West’s principal institutions, NATO and the European Union. No less importantly, Georgia’s domestic political institutions had to be modeled on Western liberal-democratic standards.
Since about 2009, when the EU launched its Eastern Partnership (EaP) program and enhanced its presence in the South Caucasus, Georgians have increasingly spoken about “Europe” rather than “the West.” However, they never considered the distinction too important: What is “the West” but Europe writ large?
Following the 2022 Russian invasion of Ukraine, the Georgian Dream (GD) government effectively rejected the vision of a European Georgia, triggering large-scale protests that have yet to abate.
Following the 2022 Russian invasion of Ukraine, the Georgian Dream (GD) government effectively rejected the vision of a European Georgia, triggering large-scale protests that have yet to abate. However, it still placates popular sentiment by occasionally paying lip service to the idea of European integration.
The paradox is that, at the same time, the idea of the West is becoming increasingly problematic in the part of the world to which this term actually refers. The personality and policies of U.S. President Donald Trump are believed to be among the most salient expressions of this problem. He appears to ignore the views and interests of his Western allies and to give preference to autocratic, non-Western actors. Some claim that this amounts to destroying the West as we know it.
If this is true, are Georgians somewhat off the mark in their continued commitment to the West? As Natalie Sabanadze wrote in these pages, “the traditional categories of ‘pro-Western’ and ‘anti-Western,’ which have long structured Georgia’s political life, lose much of their political relevance.”
This makes Georgian democrats, bravely marching in the streets of Tbilisi with European flags, resemble the Christian hermit in Friedrich Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra: they continue to praise God, unaware that He is already dead. Perhaps Georgia should correct its course to align with global trends, as GD propagandists persistently suggest?
One cannot answer this question without revisiting the origin and meaning of the idea. There is no consensual definition of what “the West” means. However, according to interpretations I find more convincing, and that better reflect the term’s widespread use, the idea emerged in the mid-19th century as an heir to two broad civilizational visions: Christendom and Europe. The new concept was necessary to keep Russia (despite being religiously Christian and geographically European) out and the United States in. It comprised political powers and societies that espoused, or were expected to espouse, values and norms grounded in the Enlightenment (broadly understood as liberal) worldview.
Since then, opinions regarding the specific borders of the West have fluctuated over time (at times even Germany was excluded; at times even Russia was considered a possible member), but the core criterion remained more or less the same: it was grounded in geography and historical heritage, but also in values, norms, and ways of life.
The perception of the West that people usually have in mind today was shaped in the aftermath of World War II. It became synonymous with “the Free World,” professing political, economic, and personal freedoms, and comprising the United States and Western Europe. It stood in opposition to the part of the world that denied those freedoms — the Communist camp led by the Soviet Union.
Arguably, Western commitment to freedom was never impeccable. It included politically unfree countries such as Spain and Portugal and propped up ruthless dictators, so long as they opposed the main adversary, the Communist world. However, this was justified by the perceived necessities of the power struggle: smaller demons had to be tolerated as allies against the larger one (just as it had earlier been deemed right to ally with Joseph Stalin against Adolf Hitler).
For quite some time, Western norms — as well as the image of Western power behind them — were central to the worldviews on which former Communist nations built their policy visions. Georgia was one of them.
Probably, the light of the West shone brightest in captive societies under Communist dictatorships. The allure of Western freedom and prosperity evolved into an irresistible “soft power” that contributed to the Communist world’s implosion from within. For quite some time, Western norms — as well as the image of Western power behind them — were central to the worldviews on which former Communist nations built their policy visions. Georgia was one of them.
What, specifically, would need to happen for the West to be pronounced dead? At least one of its two foundations would have to be dismantled: a critical degree of transatlantic unity and a basic consensus on values, norms, and ways of life. There are alarming signs in both areas. But how deep and irreversible is the malaise?
One should remember that the demise of the West has been heralded many times before, yet it has eventually overcome its crises and emerged even stronger. This does not preclude the possibility that this time the decline may be real. However, it is also quite possible that the West is undergoing another painful but inevitable process of redefinition and reformatting. We still do not know which is the case.
Let us examine specific indicators of decline more closely. It is widely believed that the rise of nationalist populism — of which the Trump phenomenon is only the most conspicuous and consequential example — constitutes the principal threat. Supposedly, it undermines the values on which the idea of “the West” rests.
There are good grounds for concern. Assumptions that were once taken for granted are increasingly being questioned. In particular, Trump and his MAGA movement represent a streak of electoral Caesarism that displays disdain for the system of checks and balances upon which the success and stability of American democracy have long been based.
The rise of MAGA, as well as nativist populist movements in Europe, should be understood as symptoms of (or reactions to) broader structural problems within Western democracies and in the global order.
At the same time, criticizing Trump’s grave faults should not lead us to become overly fixated on his goodness or badness (or the precise degree of the latter). The personal traits of U.S. presidents do matter. Yet the rise of MAGA, as well as nativist populist movements in Europe, should be understood as symptoms of (or reactions to) broader structural problems within Western democracies and in the global order.
The broader picture suggests that the very idea of the West has been subjected to sustained criticism for decades, much of it originating within Western societies themselves. Anti-Westernism has increasingly shaped the outlook of a significant and influential segment of left-leaning intellectual elites. In contemporary scholarship, it has become common to trace the concept of the West to the late nineteenth century and to associate it primarily with imperial expansion. Framed in this way, the West is linked to domination, exploitation, violence, and racial hierarchy, rather than to the intellectual legacy of the Enlightenment. A particularly visible manifestation of this shift is the prominence of postcolonial theory in American universities, where critical approaches to Western power structures have, in many cases, supplanted traditional Western Civilization courses that once emphasized the philosophical foundations of modern liberal norms.
Ideas such as liberty, equality, the rule of law, respect for human rights, and tolerance of cultural diversity may be universal in content, but they also have Western historical origins and are still predominantly practiced in Western societies. One cannot consistently champion these principles while portraying the West as inherently despicable.
Self-doubt and self-criticism are necessary elements of the Western mindset; they enable development and transformation. However, obsessive collective self-flagellation, bordering on self-hatred, undermines the very values that ostensibly “progressive” intellectuals claim to defend. Ideas such as liberty, equality, the rule of law, respect for human rights, and tolerance of cultural diversity may be universal in content, but they also have Western historical origins and are still predominantly practiced in Western societies. One cannot consistently champion these principles while portraying the West as inherently despicable.
Populist reactions against “global liberal elites” are often aggressively illiberal and undermine traditional Western values. Yet other actors associated — rightly or wrongly — with the populist wave advance a legitimate argument for restoring pride in the Western intellectual and political heritage that made modern liberal democracy possible. Which of these tendencies will prove more consequential remains to be seen.
Trump and like-minded actors explicitly attack the post–Cold War Western consensus surrounding the “liberal international order.” But does this necessarily imply the destruction of the idea of the West, or rather a partial return to the way it was understood during the Cold War?
The Cold War concluded with what appeared to be a decisive triumph of the West — both as a geopolitical actor and as the principal architect of global norms. Yet, as Michael Kimmage (hardly a Trump apologist) observes, this era was paradoxically marked by what he calls “the abandonment of the West.” A widespread assumption took hold that liberal ideas were not only universal in principle but also universally accepted (or on the verge of acceptance) in practice. Under this belief, the very notion of “the West” seemed redundant. The term gradually faded from political vocabulary, replaced by the more neutral and ostensibly inclusive euphemism “the international community.”
Sadly, this assumption proved mistaken. On the contrary, Western normative power, in addition to its economic and military strength, generated intense anti-Western ressentiment, most saliently embodied by Vladimir Putin’s Russia but widely shared across the globe.
The noble yet somewhat vague concept of the liberal international order reflected these exaggerated expectations. As a Georgian, I am particularly partial to this idea, because my country – small and vulnerable as it is – can only be secure within such an order (or at least its approximation). However, it was never clear how such an order could be effectively enforced. Many placed their hopes in the United Nations, but with Russia and China among its key decision-makers, this was never a realistic prospect. Few would openly acknowledge that a unipolar world dominated by liberal powers, that is, the West, represented the best hope (though not a guarantee) for a genuinely liberal international order.
What we now describe as “the crisis of the West” is, to a considerable extent, a crisis of expectations produced by the end of the Cold War.
Was the West powerful enough to enforce such an order, not to mention willing to commit the necessary resources to this costly and thankless task? The debacles in Afghanistan and Iraq, the rise of China, and Russia’s resentful revisionism dispelled such illusions. The post–Cold War “unipolar moment” had passed, and something different would have to emerge. What we now describe as “the crisis of the West” is, to a considerable extent, a crisis of expectations produced by the end of the Cold War.
The Russian invasion of Ukraine became a testing ground for the West. Putin never concealed that his objective was less about territorial expansion per se and more about exposing the limits of the Western-led liberal international order. The war initially produced an almost unprecedented display of Western unity. Yet it soon became evident, though rarely stated explicitly, that only the West and a handful of its traditional allies joined the rally. The conflict also revealed a geopolitical and normative chasm between “the West and the Rest.”
The outcome of the war remains uncertain, but thus far, the picture is mixed. The Ukrainian army, with Western support, appears to have succeeded in preserving Ukraine as a nation, yet it has not secured a decisive victory. This constitutes a partial success for Russia.
Trump’s many actions and statements regarding this war, especially the effective suspension of military aid to Ukraine, are inexcusable. However, by the time Trump entered the scene, the war had already reached a stalemate, with Russia holding a moderate military advantage. This resulted from the West’s insufficient resources and/or political will to enable Ukraine to prevail. Under such circumstances, pursuing peace became a rational option — even while recognizing that any such peace would likely be unjust and undignified.
Apart from shattering the Western consensus on Ukraine, Trump and his lieutenants have expressed disdain, bordering at times on hostility, toward their European partners. His rhetoric about annexing Greenland and Canada is another inexcusable episode, even if interpreted as an unconventional negotiating tactic. The damage to transatlantic solidarity is undeniable.
Yet is it sufficient to proclaim the end of the West? Here, too, the picture is more complex.
However controversial it may be, this document does not call for dismantling Western unity. On the contrary, it seeks to redefine the common ground on which that unity rests.
The texts most frequently cited as evidence of the new American administration’s hostility to the very idea of the West are Vice President J.D. Vance’s February 2025 speech in Munich and the U.S. National Security Strategy (NSS) adopted in November of the same year. Many commentators detected an unmistakable tone of arrogance toward European allies; the latter have every reason to feel aggrieved. However controversial it may be, this document does not call for dismantling Western unity. On the contrary, it seeks to redefine the common ground on which that unity rests.
In particular, it explicitly distinguishes Europe from the rest of the world as a “like-minded friend” to which the United States applies a higher standard:
We recognize and affirm that there is nothing inconsistent or hypocritical in acting on such a realistic assessment or in maintaining good relations with countries whose governing systems and societies differ from ours, even as we push like-minded friends to uphold our shared norms, advancing our interests as we do so.
The document draws a clear line between the West as a community of like-minded actors who share fundamental norms, even while disagreeing about their precise content, and the non-West, which espouses essentially different values and is to be approached through transactional Realpolitik. This amounts to abandoning the prospect of a “globalized West” in favor of reconstituting a Cold War–like condition, in which the West was conceived as a more or less exceptional realm of liberty.
The U.S. State Secretary Marco Rubio’s subsequent speech at the same Munich Security Conference, considerably more conciliatory in tone, reaffirmed the necessity of Western unity, even as it restated areas of disagreement.
The rise of illiberal and anti-democratic forces within Western democracies has undoubtedly fueled anxieties about the erosion of the shared consensus on basic norms and about the weakening of the transatlantic solidarity upon which the idea of the West has long rested. No one can say with certainty how far these tendencies will advance. Yet, at this stage, apocalyptic predictions about the end of the West appear unwarranted.
The present crisis of the West, while real, may instead represent a critical juncture — one that compels a reassessment of the inflated expectations generated by the immediate post–Cold War era. The belief that liberal norms would become universally accepted, that the liberal international order could be sustained without clear power foundations, and that Western unity no longer required conscious political effort has proven misguided. A more sober understanding of the limits of Western power — both hard and soft — is now unavoidable.
Such a reassessment does not amount to civilizational collapse. It may rather mark a process of redefinition. This could entail renegotiating the practical terms of cooperation within the West, clarifying the boundaries of solidarity, and restoring a more explicit appreciation of the Western intellectual and political heritage that underpins its institutions. The West may no longer aspire to universalization, but it remains a distinct community shaped by shared historical experience and foundational commitments to liberty, pluralism, and the rule of law.
Western unity has never required uniformity of opinion or perpetual harmony between Americans and Europeans. It has rested on the recognition of common heritage and on the pragmatic understanding that cooperation is indispensable in an increasingly dangerous world.
At the same time, the aggregate economic, military, and technological resources of Western countries remain vast. Even in a more contested and multipolar environment, they are sufficient to ensure that the West continues to play a central role in global politics. Western unity has never required uniformity of opinion or perpetual harmony between Americans and Europeans. It has rested on the recognition of common heritage and on the pragmatic understanding that cooperation is indispensable in an increasingly dangerous world.
For Georgia, the key unanswered question, therefore, is not whether the West is still there, but whether Georgia can be counted among its “like-minded friends.”