There’s a curious irony to Europe’s current predicament – one that would be delicious if it weren’t so bloody catastrophic. We spent the 20th century learning, through blood and rubble, that cooperation makes us stronger. That peace comes not from sabre-rattling nationalism, but from compromise, treaties, and mutual dependence. And now, just when we most need to pull together, we’re gleefully voting for the very thing that tears us apart.
Populism – that shapeshifting conjuror of the modern right – has wormed its way into Europe’s bloodstream, seducing electorates with the same tired lullabies: "Take back control", "Protect our people", "The elites don’t care about you". It’s always the same tune – just sung in different accents. From Meloni to Le Pen, from Orbán to Wilders, the nationalist Right has built its power not on solutions, but on sabotage. They thrive on division, dependency on scapegoats, and a pathological fear of cooperation – particularly with foreigners.
And here’s the punchline: while Europe atomises itself into squabbling enclaves of wounded pride and petty grievance, the real players – the empires-in-waiting – are doing the exact opposite.
Yes – empires. You thought those were finished? How quaint. They’ve not vanished – they’ve evolved. Muskets and redcoats are out. Data, ports, and debt traps are in.
Russia is still playing the imperial game, bombing its neighbours in the name of “historic unity”, while feeding its own population myth and misery. China’s empire is quieter – a port here, a copper mine there, a telecoms contract laced with dependency. And the United States? It doesn’t annex – it influences, dictates, and monetises. If Rome taxed provinces, Washington bills them monthly and calls it a subscription.
Even the EU has been accused of bureaucratic empire-building – except it’s the only one that didn’t need to coerce or conquer. It offered prosperity in exchange for shared rules. And that, in today’s populist politics, is unforgivable.
This isn’t a new story. History is stuffed with examples of fractious, self-absorbed states being swallowed whole by those who could organise themselves. Ancient Greece, too busy bickering over whose hoplites had the finest tunics, was eventually devoured by Macedon – then again by Rome. Renaissance Italy, rich in art but poor in unity, was carved up by Spain, France, and Austria. The princely states of India, more worried about local rivalries than the East India Company, found themselves colonised while still sharpening their spears at one another.
Even the Holy Roman Empire – a tangle of German principalities in permanent discord – served as little more than a doormat for French and Austrian ambitions until Bismarck finally forced unity with blood and iron.
And it’s not just failure we repeat. When petty states do manage to pull together, even briefly, they can stop an empire in its tracks. The Greek city-states held off Persia at Salamis and Plataea – but only when Athens and Sparta stopped measuring shields. The Dutch united long enough to kick Spain out and build an empire of their own. The thirteen American colonies, so often at each other’s throats, banded together just long enough to see off the greatest empire of their day.
In the 1940s, even the most improbable alliance – Britain, America, and the Soviet Union – held together long enough to smash Hitler’s dream of empire. Because survival, when recognised as shared, can bind the unlikeliest of allies.
And yet here we are – unlearning it all.
Because while Europe splinters, the empires consolidate – and scale is everything.
Populism and nationalism can work – but only at scale. Once a country passes around 100 million people, it can just about afford to indulge itself. That’s the threshold often cited by economists like Ha-Joon Chang, strategists like Zbigniew Brzezinski, and political theorists such as Yascha Mounk – the point at which a nation begins to have enough internal market, institutional ballast, and geopolitical weight to absorb the consequences of isolationist bluster. Below that? You’re not a great power – you’re a medium-sized customer with delusions of grandeur.
When you're America with 330 million, or India with 1.4 billion, or Russia with enough gas and guns to punch above its weight, you can afford to thumb your nose at multilateralism. You can survive on your own market. You can bluff, bully, or bribe your way out of isolation.
But when you’re a mid-sized democracy – like Britain, Hungary, or even France acting alone – populism isn’t strength. It’s theatre. You don’t gain independence – you lose leverage. You don’t control your destiny – you hand it over, piecemeal, to whoever shouts loudest or lends fastest. You become a client state, still waving the flag, while someone else calls the shots.
This is the paradox at the heart of modern populism: it promises sovereignty but delivers submission. And the smaller the country, the bigger the lie. In today’s world, it doesn’t take boots on the ground to be conquered – it takes contracts, servers, supply chains and influence.
Populism weakens democracies – but it strengthens empires. The more divided, isolationist, and paranoid Europe becomes, the easier it is to exploit. We’re not defending sovereignty – we’re dismantling the scaffolding that holds it up. The new imperialism doesn’t bother raising flags. It raises invoices.
And Britain? We led the charge – left the EU not to be independent, but to be irrelevant. Imagining Empire 2.0 and ending up with nostalgia and chlorinated chicken. A country that used to build coalitions now can’t even build a customs system.
So let’s be clear: the age of empires isn’t over. It’s back. Quieter. Smarter. Hungrier. It wears a suit, not a sash – and it never left, it just moved online.
We’re not being invaded. We’re being out-organised – by those who never stopped thinking like empires,
while we were busy shouting about blue passports and banging on about Trafalgar.
And so, like every disunited league, city-state, and coalition that came before – we are not being conquered. We’re delivering ourselves – gift-wrapped, deluded, and chanting "take back control" all the way to the loading bay.
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