History rarely surprises those who pay attention. The trajectory of the current geopolitical order — from the war in Ukraine to the economic realignments centred on China and the Global South — follows patterns as old as recorded time. Yet, in the West, political elites and media institutions remain bewildered. How could the unchallenged dominance of the post-Cold War era erode so rapidly? How could NATO’s eastward expansion provoke conflict? How could the Western-designed financial order face credible challenges from Eurasian powers once dismissed as marginal players?
For those willing to look past the comforting myths of Western exceptionalism, none of this was surprising. The ongoing unraveling of the unipolar moment was as predictable as the fall of prior empires that overextended themselves. As my essays have repeatedly warned, the West’s geopolitical missteps, ideological rigidity, and institutional complacency have accelerated its decline. The “long war” in Ukraine, the vilification of China, and the media’s simplistic narratives reflect a deeper pathology: an inability to accept the realities of a multipolar world.
Hubris in Ukraine
The war in Ukraine was a colossal own goal — a geopolitical miscalculation rooted in post-Cold War triumphalism. After 1991, Western strategists adopted the belief that US dominance was inevitable and permanent; history had ended. The decision to push NATO eastward, despite explicit warnings from the architects of containment like George Kennan, reflected this mindset. In 1997, Kennan warned:
“Expanding NATO would be the most fateful error of American policy in the post-Cold War era… It would inflame nationalistic, anti-Western tendencies in Russia… and restore the atmosphere of the Cold War to East-West relations.”
This warning went unheeded. In 2014, the Western-backed Maidan coup in Kyiv severed Ukraine’s historic ties with Russia, transforming the country into a frontline state in a broader contest to weaken Moscow. As my essays have documented, NATO escalated military aid, trained Ukrainian forces, and effectively torpedoed the Minsk agreements. By 2022, Russia launched its military operation – a tragedy that could have been avoided.
Peace talks in Istanbul showed promise. Ukraine indicated a willingness to adopt neutrality; Russia signalled its readiness to halt operations. Putin even called off an attempt to seize Kyiv. At that moment, British Prime Minister Boris Johnson intervened, reportedly to dissuade Kyiv from making concessions. NATO’s objective, it seemed, was to bleed Russia via proxy war and, ultimately, to oust Putin, regardless of the catastrophic human costs to Ukraine.
The result is now evident: hundreds of thousands of casualties, economic devastation, and a fractured state whose survival now hinges on its capacity to endure defeat.
Manufactured consent
In the Western media, the complex post-Cold War dynamics were reduced to simplistic moral binaries: Ukraine was cast as a plucky bastion of democracy; Russia an irrational aggressor bent on imperial conquest. Context disappeared. NATO’s expansion, the US role in the 2014 coup, and the grim toll of Russian-speaking casualties during Ukraine’s eight-year civil conflict in the Donbas were erased from the narrative.
Just as the “domino theory” justified the Vietnam War, so too does the spectre of “Russian imperialism” rationalise Western involvement in Ukraine. Media outlets that questioned this narrative were marginalised or censored. Those, like myself, who advocated for negotiations were derided as “Putin apologists.” Western citizens were conditioned to view the war as a moral crusade, while its true motivations — geopolitical control and economic gain — remained obscured.
This epistemic closure reflects a deeper dysfunction. Societies that cling to outdated paradigms stagnate. Western claims of cultural and ideological superiority blinded policymakers to the shifting global landscape.
The rise of the South
While Western capitals obsessed over Ukraine, a tectonic shift was underway. China’s adaptive policy framework — particularly its shift from low-cost manufacturing to high-tech innovation — was fundamentally altering the structure of global trade. Initiatives like the Belt and Road Initiative embedded China into global supply chains, particularly across Africa, Latin America, and Central Asia.
Meanwhile, the BRICS bloc evolved from a conceptual acronym into an institutional network pursuing alternative financial mechanisms. Non-dollar trade agreements and cross-border digital payment platforms now challenge the once-unassailable dominance of Western financial institutions. Eurasian-led forums like the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation and BRICS+ are on the rise, fostering partnerships grounded in mutual economic benefit rather than ideological alignment.
And how did the West respond? With sanctions, tariffs, and military posturing — tactics rather than strategy.
Decline from within
The West’s external failures mirror its internal disintegration. Political polarisation, rising economic inequality, institutional decay, and demographic pressures are eroding social cohesion. The economic fallout from Russian sanctions — initially intended to cripple Moscow — has instead weakened Europe, particularly Germany’s industrial base.
The United States fares no better. Its political discourse is consumed by cultural warfare and its fiscal foundations buckle under unsustainable deficits. The once-vaunted “rules-based international order” no longer commands universal deference; instead, much of the Global South is charting its own course.
The road ahead
The unipolar era is over. Multipolarity is no longer a theoretical construct but a lived reality. The question is not whether the West will adapt, but whether it has the capacity for systemic renewal.
If the West persists in treating China as a hostile adversary, it will find itself isolated. If it doubles down on military containment and ideological exceptionalism, it will accelerate its own decline. Only by embracing diplomatic realism — engaging with China, Russia, and the Global South on the basis of mutual interests rather than ideological prescriptions — can the West hope to maintain relevance.
The West’s decline is no triumph. But its stubborn refusal to adapt serves as a tragic reminder of history’s unforgiving patterns. Empires that believe themselves immune to decline, that demonise critics, and that reject necessary adaptations are invariably humbled.
The Anglo-Saxon world must rediscover the humility to learn from history – and find the courage to abandon its illusions. Our decline is not the end of global civilisation, the best lessons of science and philosophy and even the high refinement of our music and dance are being renewed and adapted before our eyes. Beyond Western corporate power we see a world being renewed and transformed by networks growing with hybrid vigour, the best of the East and West.
Carl Sagan once asked, in the shadow of nuclear peril:
“Who speaks for Earth?”
In the face of the actual existential threat of climate change and the challenges of global development and adaptation the answers to that question may finally emerge.
Kari McKern, who lives in Sydney, is a retired career public servant and librarian and IT specialist. She has maintained a life time interest in Asian affairs and had visited Asia often, and writes here in a private capacity.