The West, Rewritten

A few days ago, I had a long discussion with a friend who is part of Austria's conservatives. The topic came up naturally: global poverty, the development of artificial intelligence, and how wealth and power continue to be distributed along familiar colonial lines. I explained how technologies like AI, while seemingly neutral and even benevolent, are built on global value chains that rely on the exploitation of labor and resources in the Global South. He nodded in agreement throughout, admitting that most of what I was saying made sense. And yet, there was something in my wording that unsettled him. "I don't like how you always mention ‘the West'", he said. "We still have to differentiate between what the EU does and what the US does. And let's not forget about China." And that's when it struck me: Was I just witnessing the newest European political rhetorical fallacy at work? One that tries to disguise complicity behind comparison and avoid responsibility by pointing fingers outward?

This kind of response sounded familiar. It's a form of rhetorical maneuvering used many times. Often subtle, but always powerful in deflecting critique. It's a variation of whataboutism, the classic logic of "we're not perfect, but others are worse." But this is more than just a flawed argumentative tactic because it reflects a deeper narrative structure that shields Europe from meaningful accountability by upholding a self-image of moral superiority.

What struck me even more than the deflection itself was the implicit attempt to redraw geopolitical lines. Europe quietly stepping away from "the West" when it becomes morally uncomfortable to be associated with it. But Europe is part of the West. It always has been. The very concept of "the West" was forged through Europe's Enlightenment thought, colonial expansion, and economic dominance. The United States may now be leading a more visibly aggressive form of global disorder, especially under Trump's renewed reign and climate-denying, tech-oligarchic agenda, but history cannot simply be edited out of the equation. Europe helped build this system. And while it might like to see itself as the ethical counterweight to American excesses, it is still deeply embedded in the same structures economically, technologically, and ideologically.

If Europe wants to distance itself morally from the West, it would first need to distance itself materially from its privileges. But it hasn't. It continues to benefit from global inequality and offers little more than symbolic gestures toward the Global South. What meaningful changes has Europe made to repair the damage of its past or to alter the present exploitative dynamics? Where are the debt cancellations, the fair trade agreements, the climate reparations? They remain marginal, if not entirely absent.

The Comfort of Comparison

By comparing itself to others who are "worse", Europe avoids facing its own role in today's global order. The suggestion that "we're not as bad as the U.S." or "look at what China is doing" doesn't engage with the critique. It merely distracts. What's often left unsaid is that Europe profits from the same exploitative structures. Whether enforced through debt, trade, or geopolitical influence, the logic of extraction continues, and Europe is among its main beneficiaries.

This rhetoric works because it resonates with a deep-seated self-image. Europe still sees itself as more civil, rational, and humane. This belief is rooted in centuries of colonialism and Enlightenment ideology that positioned Europe as the world's moral and intellectual compass. Even today, after decades of decolonial critique, this self-perception lingers. Europe believes it leads by example. The historical record suggests otherwise.

To understand Europe's current position, we must look at how this structural advantage was historically constructed. From forced labor in Belgian Congo's rubber fields to the East India Company's manipulation of India's trade routes, European empires built a global division of labor for their own benefit. Post-WWII institutions like the IMF and World Bank gave Europe favorable access to markets and resources. In the 1980s, structural adjustment programs imposed on indebted Global South countries slashed public services and deepened dependency. These weren't mistakes of the past. Today's ecological and trade injustices are built on the same foundation.

Structural Injustice Dressed in Ethical Clothing

Studies of scholars like Jason Hickel show that the Global South is not "lagging behind" due to internal failures, but because of a long history of systematic underdevelopment. According to Hickel's research, for every dollar of aid the Global South receives, it loses fourteen through profit repatriation, tax avoidance, debt servicing, and trade mispricing. In total, over $2.2 trillion flows annually from the South to the North. Europe consumes nearly twice its fair share of global resources.

These figures represent the structural reality of daily inequality. Countries in the Global South export cheap raw materials and labor, while importing expensive finished goods. This locks them into low-value positions in the global economy. Europe's economic stability, its green transition, and its digital innovations all lean on this imbalance. When Europe speaks of AI or climate policy, it rarely speaks of those who pay the ecological or social cost. Europe presents itself as a leader in carbon neutrality and ethical AI. But these transitions depend on lithium, cobalt, and other resources mined in Latin America, Africa, and Asia. The ecological cost is exported.

This logic applies equally to AI. Europe's data infrastructure requires vast energy and mineral inputs. Data labeling work is outsourced to low-paid workers in the Global South. The AI ethics discussed in Brussels are disconnected from the extractive foundations these technologies rely on. This externalization of harm is mirrored in policy. The EU bans harmful pesticides domestically, but exports them abroad. The Mercosur trade deal would accelerate Amazon deforestation. European firms sell surveillance tech to authoritarian regimes while promoting "ethical AI" at home. The ethical frame often stops at Europe's borders.

In critiquing these dynamics, it is instructive to examine China's trajectory within the system of unequal exchange. Although China has historically experienced net resource losses similar to other Southern nations, it has begun to recalibrate this imbalance. By boosting domestic wages and decreasing reliance on core imports, China undermines Northern profit margins and sets a precedent for other Global South countries: the assertion of economic sovereignty through strategic industrial policies and investment in local development over external dependencies. Europe's challenge lies not just in recognizing these systemic inequities, but in realigning its policies to genuinely support equitable global interactions, which would require substantial shifts in how it engages with the rest of the world.

The Illusion of Being "Less Bad"

Part of what makes the "less bad" argument so enduring is psychological. Europe's identity has long been entangled with Enlightenment ideals: progress, civility, reason. These ideals once helped justify colonialism and still shape foreign policy today. To acknowledge complicity in global injustice would mean reckoning with this inherited self-image. But that process is uncomfortable. It requires introspection and a willingness to let go of old certainties. Much easier to shift focus elsewhere, to highlight others' wrongdoing, and to reassure ourselves that we're doing fine - at least by comparison.

A while back, I came across a framework proposed by the American scientist and public thinker Carl Sagan, best known for his efforts to promote scientific literacy. He developed what he called a "baloney detection kit" to help people recognize flawed reasoning in public discourse. One such example is the tu quoque fallacy - responding to criticism by pointing at others' faults - which stalls meaningful reflection. When this logic permeates society, it fosters complacency. If our only standard is being marginally less harmful than someone else, the bar stays dangerously low.

This tactic stems from political convenience. We often assume people can't handle complexity or harsh truths, so we shield them with simplified narratives. But doing so strips public discourse of its capacity for accountability. The world doesn't improve just because we're not the worst. Real progress occurs when we address our own roles in what needs changing. As Sagan noted, failing to teach people the complexity of science leaves them vulnerable to manipulation. The same applies to global politics. Reducing complex power imbalances to soundbites robs people of understanding the depth of these issues. This simplification allows anyone with a persuasive voice to shape public opinion, whether they're a politician or a guru. Consequently, political discourse as it happens now keeps people uninformed and, even worse, celebrates ignorance to undermine the critical thinking needed to hold those in power accountable.

The tendency to divert focus from uncomfortable truths has become a structural feature of political discourse. The term “Realpolitik”, which basically describes status quo politics, comes up a lot in my conversations with said friend. As if it were the natural boundary between what we can and cannot expect from politics. But I've come to feel that this term often closes doors rather than opening them. This is the kind of reasoning that the term "Realpolitik" often implies: defining what is considered reasonable by referencing what has already been done, while anything that steps outside those lines is quickly labeled unrealistic or radical. And yet, the real question should be: what do our times demand? When people from both the left and the right increasingly express the feeling that the world can't go on like it does, the ones insisting on more of the same begin to look like the true radicals - radically out of touch with the scale of the crises we face.

I've tried to explore this idea further in another essay, where I ask whether the real divide in politics today is not between left and right, but between those who seek to fundamentally change direction, and those who still believe we can continue on the same path. You can find it here.

A Call for Humility, Not Distance

Distancing itself now from "Western" misbehavior is a convenient move. But Europe remains entangled in the same extractive dynamics. If it wants to be different, it must change materially. That means climate reparations, fairer trade terms, debt relief, and redistributing technological benefits. Not just ethics in language, but ethics in structure. This also requires political discourse to move from oversimplifying issues to engaging with their complexity, ensuring the public isn't left vulnerable to manipulation or the whims of those who try to shape opinions with misleading narratives.

If Europe is serious about global justice, it must abandon the comfort of its moral pedestal. Not by distancing itself from the West when it's convenient, but by confronting what being part of the West actually means. Europe cannot disown the structures it helped create simply because the United States is currently making them look worse. Moral distance without material accountability eventually is nothing but branding.

And branding is what Europe excels at. It speaks the language of sustainability, solidarity, and human rights but rarely backs it up with structural change. It remains embedded in global supply chains that exploit labor and natural resources, continues to push trade deals that harm ecosystems and communities in the Global South, and makes only minimal moves toward debt relief or climate reparations. If Europe wants to be seen differently, it must act differently.

Imagine a Europe that stops measuring its virtue by comparison and starts measuring it by consequence. That actually asks "Who do we harm? And how do we stop?" That does not seek to escape its past, but commits to repairing its present. That would be a Europe worth believing in. And no, "less bad" will never be good enough.