Europe should discard the illusions of love

If there were chocolates in the conference bags, they might as well have come with a note: Love means never having to say you're overdependent. By the time the last panel broke at the Munich Security Conference on Saturday, Feb 14, Valentine's Day, the connotations at Europe's most important security gathering were hard to ignore.

For decades, Europe's transatlantic relationship has carried the emotional baggage of a long loveless marriage: comfort mistaken for permanence, habit mistaken for harmony, and shared history invoked as proof that tomorrow will resemble yesterday. The language of "values", invoked like wedding vows, has often served as the transatlantic alliance's most persuasive — and least examined — glue.

But geopolitics is not a romantic drama. It is a balance sheet.

When the top United States' diplomat, Marco Rubio, struck a softer tone in Munich, European officials reacted as if a quarrelsome partner had finally remembered an anniversary. Relief flickered. Hope returned. Perhaps the old rhythms could be restored.

Yet recent memory suggests otherwise. US Vice-President JD Vance's blunt admonitions on the same occasion last year about burden-sharing were not a lovers' spat; they were the presentation of a contractual renegotiation. Likewise at this year's World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, the US president made clear that the US strategy will be guided less by sentiment than by transactional benefits for the US. Security guarantees, once wrapped in rhetoric about shared destiny, are increasingly framed in terms of costs, losses and gains, leverage and return on investment.

For Europe, the gathering was indeed like Valentine's Day the teasing possibility of a relationship, but dependent on how much it was willing to spend on the wooing.

Because the comfort of rekindled love persists: that Europe can rekindle the old arrangement in which it rode under US security umbrella while reaping the economic benefits of globalization — cheap energy, open markets and supply chains that stretched conveniently to Asia — Europe seems willing to sustain the false narrative of common enemies to preserve Western cohesion.

But if it wants to be transactional, it should look at the data.

According to the International Monetary Fund, emerging and developing economies now account for more than 60 percent of global output in purchasing-power terms. The World Bank notes that China alone contributes roughly 18 percent of global GDP and remains the largest trading partner for over 120 countries. Meanwhile, the United Nations counts more than 60 active conflicts worldwide, a reminder that insecurity is systemic, not ideological.

Interdependence is not a slogan; it is the validation of relations.

In Munich, Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi offered a message that cut through the sentimental fog. His call to revitalize the United Nations, uphold sovereign equality, and practice genuine multilateralism was not a rejection of Europe or the US, but a rejection of bloc politics that divides the world into permanent camps. He argued that global governance must reflect a multipolar reality and that major powers should lead by cooperation rather than coercion.

Most striking was his insistence that Europe should not be "on the menu but at the table" in resolving the Ukraine crisis — a phrase that resonated beyond that conflict. It was both a warning and an invitation: Europe can shape the future, but only if it sheds illusions about who chooses the menu.

Wang's broader point was pragmatic. Security today is indivisible. Energy shocks in one region trigger inflation in another. Semiconductor shortages ripple through continents. Maritime disruptions in the Red Sea alter food prices in Africa. In such a world, the old playbook — isolate an adversary, fortify a bloc, declare moral victory — produces insecurity rather than the look for security.

This is where the Valentine's Day metaphor becomes the bitter truth of mundane matters. The lovelorn, after all, may thrive on unrealistic hopes and selective blindness — alliances cannot.

It requires the blindness to begin a relationship — to overlook flaws, to believe in the promise of shared purpose, to leap before all risks are known. The transatlantic alliance was born from this, in a moment, when fear, hope and necessity fused into a grand strategic commitment. But what sustains a relationship over decades is not illusion. It is trust built through transparency, confidence forged through reliability, and the ability to manage risks together rather than pretend they do not exist.

Europe's attachment to the idea of a "values alliance" with the US is not misplaced, per se. But when values are treated as a substitute for thoughtfulness, they become nothing but a familiar lullaby. The assumption that shared ideals will automatically align interests ignores the hard truth that even close partners may compete with one another.

Washington's increasing emphasis on industrial policy, technology controls and defense spending targets reflects domestic priorities, Europe's needs are subservient to this. Yet, Europe, facing demographic decline and energy transitions, has its own imperatives. Pretending these differences can be papered over with rhetoric about unity is just wishful thinking.

The lesson of Munich in its Valentine's Day setting is that affection is not a substitute for adaptability.

The diehard adherents of Washington in Europe will not fall out of love with the transatlantic alliance. But they need to recognize the end of the romance — the belief that history guarantees harmony, that protection comes without price, and that the world can be neatly divided into friends and foes.

A more mature partnership would acknowledge asymmetries, negotiate burdens transparently, and accept that multipolarity requires flexible coalitions rather than rigid camps. It would also recognize, as Wang emphasized, that China and Europe are partners in many domains — trade, climate, development — even though they have differences.

This is not naivete; it is realism. The European Union's daily trade with China exceeds €2 billion ($2.37 billion). European industries depend on global supply chains that link it with China and that cannot be disentangled without self-harm. Cooperation on climate change, pandemic response and development finance is not ideological; it is existential.

Valentine's Day in Munich should not inspire illusions about the romantic power of alliances. It should serve as a reminder that relationships that endure require more than affection. They require the courage to confront risks together, the discipline to say no when the partner is being unreasonable, and the humility to adapt to a changing environment.

In that sense, the most revealing thing from Munich was not about resilience, deterrence or even unity. It was the need for maturity.

The era of strategic adolescence — when Europe could rely on US guardianship while indulging in geopolitical wishful thinking — is ending. The future belongs to those willing to navigate complexity without nostalgia.

No roses required.