Is Europe headed towards a century of humiliation ?
From Qing Decline to Meiji Triumph: lessons for Europe’s Future
Ursula von der Leyen’s signing of the Turnberry agreements on behalf of the European Union on 27 July this year confirms the return of American protectionism and its political and economic ability to impose advantageous trade conditions on the world. Among the concessions made by the European Union to Donald Trump’s demands are an increase in customs duties on most European products in the United States from 4.8% to 15%, commitments to purchase military equipment and hydrocarbons, and investments in the United States. All in all, it is a treaty that is notoriously unfavourable to the European Union, even denounced by François Bayrou, France’s then Prime Minister, as unbalanced. Europe’s submission to the United States’ sudden, disadvantageous and imposed commercial intimidation is reminiscent, in relative terms, of the imposition of unequal treaties on Qing China (1644-1912).
Following the technological, economic and military decline of an ageing empire, China was forced by the European powers, the United States and Japan to sign a series of humiliating treaties on terms that were notoriously unfavourable to it, from the mid-19th century to the eve of the Second World War. The powers of the time forced a retreating China to agree to remove customs duties on trade with these countries and to cede territorial enclaves for the establishment of trading posts.
Qing Dynasty China appears dangerously close to our vision of the future
But how did the Middle Kingdom, a demographic, cultural, economic and scientific behemoth and cradle of a civilisation dating back thousands of years, become so weakened that Belgium, Portugal, Denmark and Sweden were able to impose a lion’s share on it in their relations? In the context of a return to international trade based on inter-state power relations, understanding these mechanisms of decline seems essential to prevent Europe from suffering what the Chinese have dubbed their ‘century of humiliation’.
Nineteenth-century China had many assets. It was a strong, centralised state with a competent administration. It had a large, relatively well-educated population and a decent level of technology. In fact, China was undoubtedly the ‘Middle Kingdom’ of the region: the power around which all the other countries in the region had been organised for several centuries. But it was precisely this sense of security in China’s superiority that led to this century of humiliation. China’s self-centredness, confident in its technological, military, economic, but also moral and cultural superiority, allowed it to rest on its laurels. Several centuries of unchallenged domination left it defenceless in the face of the paradigm shifts that swept the world in the wake of the Industrial Revolution. One of the most striking aspects of this perceived superiority was the strong aversion that China had developed to change inspired by international best practices, to the point of developing an aversion even to technological change. A resounding example is the dismantling in 1877 of the Woosung railway line, built by the British and seen by the Qing government as a cultural and political threat to the country’s traditional order. This self-centredness and insistence on their cultural and moral superiority, legitimising their status as a power, left China defenceless in the face of a century of change and European gunboats. A few timid attempts at modernisation had been made, but they had been crushed by the resistance of a traditionalist administration.
Another striking feature of Qing China that explains its relative decline is its de facto government by a gerontocratic technocracy. Qing China was in fact the China of the mandarins, a caste of imperial officials who monopolised most of the power and based their rule on a Confucian philosophy that had not yet integrated the radical changes brought about by industrial modernity. The slow pace of the mandarins’ careers, stuck in an ancient system that favoured legitimacy and continuity, made the Chinese imperial technocracy notoriously gerontocratic. European diplomats of the time regularly noted their shock at conducting negotiations with very old, sick, deaf mandarins, sometimes even unable to speak with them without intermediaries, leaving a feeling of stagnation and decadence.
China’s situation in the 19th century is reminiscent of the challenges facing Europe today. In particular, we are developing mild symptoms of being out of step with contemporary modernity: our lag in digital technologies is glaring, our energy dependence is significant, but not as significant as our industrial dependence on cutting-edge technologies. Today, our phones, processors, computers, batteries and machine tools increasingly come from elsewhere, often designed by European engineers for foreign companies. Added to this are the major difficulties Europeans have in making quick decisions in the face of crises, responding without consensus or unity to the challenges of the war in Ukraine, mass immigration and, more recently, the imposition of customs duties by the United States. Modernity is increasingly foreign to Europeans, and we are struggling to innovate economically and technologically, but there is one area in which we excel: our regulatory, administrative and technocratic mindset. Brussels does not see technology as an opportunity to elevate the human condition and develop the continent’s power, but as a potential threat to world harmony and the established order, which should be regulated through legislation and standardisation. What our technocrats’ relationship with modernity reveals is a deeply rooted self-centredness and confidence in Europe’s superiority. They say to themselves, ‘the rules we establish will be adopted by everyone, because we are the cradle of civilisation, democracy and justice’. In Europe today, as in Qing China, we find the elements that have led to a backward-looking attitude and a decline in status compared to powers that are fully embracing modernity:
- Risk aversion, established in particular through the precautionary principle
-Self-centredness, in the certainty that our importance is not something to be defended and promoted but is a natural benefit derived from the values we uphold.
-Gerontocratic technocracy, from senile mandarins to old centrist stalwarts populating the corridors of Brussels or Strasbourg.
Nothing is decided yet; this article is not a declaration of surrender acknowledging Europe’s decline in the face of modernity. We still have many cards to play to spare our continent the equivalent of the century of humiliation experienced by China in the 19th century. We must identify this emerging trend of growing mistrust of the changes brought about by modernity in order to embrace it and make the most of what it has to offer. Europe has already been the technological and cultural beacon of the world. We have an excellent education system, extensive and developed infrastructure, competent companies and abundant capital. Our most significant obstacle to regaining our place at the forefront of technology is therefore simply a question of mentality, or even philosophy. And while Qing China was a terrible example of a refusal to adapt to modernity, at the same time, on the other side of the China Sea, we can find a shining example of successful adaptation to modernity. Meiji Japan succeeded in effectively reconciling the continuity of institutions and local cultural traditions with the acceptance of the paradigm shifts required by modernity.
The alternative proposed by Meiji Japan is still possible for Europe, as long as we give ourselves the means to do so
At the beginning of the 19th century, Japan appeared to be a regional power deliberately closed off from the rest of the world. Since the 17th century, the sakoku policy had strictly limited foreign trade: only limited trade with China, Korea and the Dutch was tolerated. Japan remained marked by strong traditionalism and undertook no major reforms to adapt to modernity. This situation changed in the mid-19th century, when Western powers forced the country to open up. The arrival of American Commodore Matthew Perry in 1853, followed by the Treaty of Kanagawa in 1854, ended two centuries of isolation and exposed Japan to the risk of foreign domination similar to that suffered by China after the Opium Wars. Aware of this danger, the Japanese elites quickly understood that if they did not adapt to modernity, it would be imposed on the Shogunate without them being able to negotiate terms that made it more compatible with the national culture. This realisation led to the vast modernisation project of the Meiji Restoration, which began in 1868.
The modernisation process was based on a series of closely coordinated mechanisms, which in a few decades transformed a society still marked by isolation into a modern power. Politically, the abolition of the feudal system and the centralisation of power around the emperor made it possible to mobilise the entire country in the same direction. The state played a leading role in launching a process of modernisation “from above”: it sent study missions to Europe and the United States, brought in foreign advisers to transfer know-how, and adopted Western institutions adapted to Japanese realities. On the military front, the introduction of compulsory service and the establishment of a national army and navy modelled on European examples transformed Japan into a leading power. Economically, the state invested heavily in infrastructure (railways, telegraphs, arsenals, textile factories) before transferring certain strategic industries to large private conglomerates, known as zaibatsu. These zaibatsu notably continue to drive and structure Japanese capitalism today. Finally, an ambitious educational reform programme spread literacy and trained a technical and administrative elite that was essential to modernisation. Thanks to this simultaneous mobilisation of political, military, economic and educational institutions, coordinated by a determined and dynamic central government, Japan became capable within a few decades of defeating Russia in 1905, asserting its place among the great powers of the time.
The final key to Japan’s success lies in its ability to reconcile Western modernity with Japanese political and cultural continuity. This is summarised in the phrase Wakon Yōsai (和魂洋才, “Japanese spirit, Western techniques” ). Rather than passively submitting to foreign influence, Japan chose to adopt Western technologies, institutions and methods while preserving a strong national identity. This combination limited internal resistance to change, while ensuring that reforms served the interests of the state rather than those of the colonial powers. Foreign expertise was mobilised but directed towards strengthening Japanese autonomy and power. Wakon Yōsai thus ensured rapid modernisation without a sudden break with the cultural foundations of Japanese society. While Japan managed to quickly integrate Western influences without denying its identity, China remained trapped in partial reforms and strong internal resistance. This contrast resulted in a growing gap in wealth, power and, above all, adaptability, which placed Japan among the major industrial nations while China sank into the ‘century of humiliation’.
In Zero to One (2016), Peter Thiel offers a framework for understanding societies’ relationship to the future, which partly explains the success of Meiji Japan in adapting to modernity. The future can be viewed either optimistically, as an opportunity to be seized, or pessimistically, as a threat to be avoided. Furthermore, some societies organise and plan for their future, while others move forward without a clear vision, content to react to events as they unfold. This dual distinction gives rise to four possible attitudes: an optimistic and organised future, where planning and investment are undertaken to build a better future; a pessimistic and organised future, where planning exists but remains defensive; an optimistic and disorganised future, marked by scattered and uncoordinated innovations; and finally, a pessimistic and disorganised future, without vision or foresight, dominated by improvisation and stagnation. Meiji-era Japan perfectly illustrates the first case: by planning an ambitious and coherent modernisation, integrating Western contributions without denying its identity, it built a lasting power that was stronger than its present at the time. Contemporary Europe, like Qing China, tends to embody the latter case: paralysed by uncertainty, undermined by bureaucracy and excessive regulation, it is undergoing technological and geopolitical transformations rather than anticipating them, building its future by default rather than by choice, at the risk of a future that is more uncertain and less promising than its present.
Europe has a choice between suffering the humiliation of the Qing dynasty or adapting to triumph like the Meiji dynasty
Contemporary Europe, convinced of its moral, economic and technological superiority, faces the same danger as Qing China in the 19th century: becoming stuck in its certainties and allowing itself to be overtaken by the frenetic pace of innovation and geopolitical change. The proliferation of standards, the weight of technocracy and excessive confidence in past achievements are fuelling a structural inertia that could prove fatal. But history shows that decline is never inevitable: Meiji-era Japan demonstrates that a nation can rapidly transform its relative position when it chooses to plan its future with foresight and determination. Europe has all the assets it needs to avoid a similar fate. Our education systems are among the best in the world, our infrastructure remains robust and diversified, our companies have exceptional know-how and our capital is abundant. What is lacking is not the raw materials for power, but the collective will and ability to develop a clear, ambitious and coordinated strategic vision capable of anticipating the technological, economic and geopolitical challenges ahead. Every delay in key technologies, every hesitation in the face of international or energy crises, every choice to regulate rather than innovate, contributes to weakening our relative position and reducing our wiggle room on the world stage. To avoid repeating the century of humiliation suffered by Qing China, Europe must wake up: it must agree to think about and plan for its future, invest heavily in strategic sectors, train elites capable of transforming knowledge into power, and adapt innovations to the cultural and social realities of the continent. This does not mean mechanically copying other models, but drawing inspiration from what has worked elsewhere, reconciling modernity and identity, planning and creativity, ambition and responsibility. Europe must once again become a power capable of shaping the future rather than suffering it, transforming its resources and heritage into sustainable levers of power and prosperity. Without this awareness and capacity for coordinated action, Europe risks sliding further into a disorganised and defensive future, where reactivity supplants initiative, where innovation is hampered by bureaucracy and fear of risk, and where the continent’s relative power is gradually diminished. On the contrary, by embracing an organised and positive vision of the future, Europe could once again become a central player on the world stage, capable not only of protecting its interests, but also of creating new opportunities, anticipating global transformations and asserting a leading role in the 21st century. The choice is clear: to endure the future as Qing China endured its century of humiliation, or to build ambitiously, like Meiji Japan, a future in which Europe has the place that has been built and planned for it. Europe can still write its own century of success, provided it wants this future, plans for it and embodies it with determination.
Great article and I think you make a very insightful historical parallel. Further hinders to Europe is the insane hatred of the own indigenous culture, and the overall extremely lackluster demographic situation (both age and third world mass immigration). China or Japan never had this. But perhaps this is just our specific challenge and what we must overcome?
Marvellous perspective. My question is: plenty of us can see the problem, but how can we translate that into action politically?
My fear is that the forces that produce this inertia are too strong. We choose to regulate, and not to innovate, because we want and need certainty. Ultimately this is because we want predictable returns to fund our welfare systems.