The “rules-based international order” has, since World War II, largely been a story the Western world has told itself: a world in which international rules are respected, sovereignty is honored, and disputes are resolved in institutions rather than on the battlefield. Now that story seems to be breaking down—fast.
The extraordinary U.S. military operation in Venezuela, the abduction of President Nicolás Maduro and his wife to the United States, and the Trump administration’s open statements about directing Venezuela’s future and reopening its oil sector for American profits mark a turning point.
Not because great powers haven’t acted harshly before, but because this is now being done openly—under the glare of publicity and with explicit references to economic gain. And in the same breath, Trump is already threatening Colombia, Cuba, and Mexico, while still insisting that Greenland should belong to the United States.
Europe’s—and more broadly the West’s—reactions to these events have been surprisingly cautious. The importance of international law and the Venezuelan people’s right to choose their own path have been emphasized, but no clear moral condemnation has been issued.
This can be interpreted in two ways. Either the operation is pragmatically seen as a way to restore democracy, since President Maduro has not been viewed as a legitimate leader. Or Europe no longer dares—and perhaps no longer even wants—to openly oppose its most important ally, the United States, even when that ally steps beyond the bounds of international norms.
And this is precisely where the fragility of the rules-based world order is revealed. It is not a bedrock of law but a political agreement that functions only as long as the great powers see it as useful. When power politics returns to center stage, norms bend. In the U.S. president’s rhetoric, Venezuela’s oil reserves and the idea of “managing the transition” are intertwined in a way that unmistakably recalls 19th-century imperialism—and the Trump administration, and especially Trump himself, are not even trying to hide it.
At the same time, global power relations are being rapidly rearranged. The United States and China have already secured their positions as two global poles, each defining its own rules in economics, technology, and security. The race is now on for a third pole.
From the perspective of Western democracy and liberalism, the European Union would like to be—and arguably should be—that third pole. Yet the EU’s foreign-policy profile still looks more like that of an adapter than a leader. U.S. security guarantees, NATO membership, and deep transatlantic integration have made Europe overly dependent on Washington. When your own security rests on someone else, it becomes politically difficult to criticize that ally—even when they violate the principles of international law.
You could call this a kind of modern-day Finlandization. The situation is not the same as Cold War–era Finland, but the dynamic is familiar: when security, economics, and politics become intertwined with a great power, critical distance disappears, and the ally is judged by a different standard than everyone else.
If the EU truly wants to be the world’s third pole, moral rhetoric alone won’t cut it. In the new world order, power matters—or at the very least, it counts. Appeals to international law are credible only as long as there is a real ability to defend oneself and one’s principles behind the words. That’s why Europe must dare to ask an uncomfortable question: does it have the will and the resources to build its own, U.S.-independent defense capability that would make its foreign policy genuinely autonomous? Without that, EU talk of “strategic autonomy” is just an empty slogan.
Russia, which has lost its great-power status but still thinks of itself as one, sees opportunity in the current upheaval. It longs for the glory days of empire and is once again seeking great-power standing. Open power politics has been fully accepted as part of Russia’s normal toolkit, even though its resources are limited and its military strength still rests largely on the remnants of the Soviet Union. But as long as Europe hesitates to take on an independent role, Moscow will try to fill the vacuum.
A three-pole world now seems inevitable: the United States, China, and a third pole. The question is whether that third pole will be a democratic, liberal Europe—or an authoritarian Russia. Will the European Union end up as a bystander, squeezed between new centers of power and perhaps even drifting into Russia’s sphere of influence?
In the end, this is about credibility. If Europe defends the rules-based order only when it’s easy, the words lose their meaning. The events in Venezuela and the threats concerning Greenland are a test: can the EU defend the rules even when they involve its own ally—and does it have the collective will and ability to stand behind its principles?
The rules-based international order won’t collapse overnight. It erodes wherever power politics is accepted as normal. The attack on Venezuela and talks about Greenland show just how close we already are to that point.
If Europe wants to be more than a supporting actor trying to balance between global power poles, it must take a hard look in the mirror—and decide whether it is willing to build the “muscle” needed to turn lofty values into real policy, not just beautiful speeches.