When I first wrote about the concept of a “Western Fall” back in 2016, I was diagnosing what I saw as a period of profound internal challenge brewing within Western nations. My analysis then pointed to the societal friction from rapid social liberalization clashing with traditional values, the corrosive effects of widening income inequality, and the seismic disruptions brought by globalization and technology. These, I argued, were key drivers of a growing popular disenchantment that could lead to a potential decline in the West’s outward influence.
Looking back from our vantage point in mid-2025, it’s striking how those internal recalibrations have not only deepened but have also acted as significant catalysts on the global stage. The internal stresses I identified have, as I suspected they might, contributed to accelerating the transition from a post-Cold War order—often perceived (perhaps too simplistically) as one of Western or unipolar dominance—towards a genuinely multipolar global landscape. This new era, as it has unfolded, is indeed defined by multiple, assertive centers of power, more fluid and often transactional alliances, and a far more contested and less predictable international stage. Events since 2016, such as the “America First” posture of a US administration, the protracted unfolding of Brexit, the fragmented global responses to the COVID-19 pandemic, and the war in Ukraine—which has paradoxically both unified certain Western elements while also starkly highlighting the independent calculus of other major global players—have all underscored the trajectory I was beginning to trace.
The manifestations of this shifting global power dynamic have become even clearer than I might have anticipated. The rise of assertive non-Western powers, which I was tracking, has solidified. China, despite its own evolving economic narrative, has decisively moved to a more pronounced global presence. Its Belt and Road Initiative, while adapted in response to critiques around debt and sustainability (a concern that has certainly been borne out in several instances post-2017), continues to be a significant vector of influence. This is alongside its undiminished military modernization and formidable push in critical technological domains like AI. India, whose economic resilience I noted, has truly championed its “strategic autonomy.” Its robust GDP growth, even through global slowdowns, and its nuanced foreign policy—balancing relationships with the US, Russia, and China, particularly evident in its stance on the Ukraine conflict—confirm its role as a pivotal independent force. I also observed the growing independence of regional powers like Turkey, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE; today, their diversified partnerships and assertive national visions are undeniable. The expansion of BRICS+ in 2024, incorporating nations like Egypt, Ethiopia, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE, was a landmark I couldn’t have precisely predicted in detail, but the underlying aspiration it represents—a Global South seeking greater voice and alternative platforms—aligns with the systemic shifts I was exploring. This bloc now encompassing nearly half the world’s population and over a third of global GDP is a stark testament to that diffusion of power.
The stress on traditional Western alliances and institutions, a concern in 2016, has continued. Transatlantic relations, while currently showing some renewed cohesion in the face of specific threats, have undeniably been tested by periods of significant divergence on trade, security burden-sharing, and overarching strategic priorities. Multilateral bodies, as I feared, often struggle for efficacy. The UN Security Council frequently finds itself deadlocked, and the WTO’s dispute settlement mechanism, particularly its Appellate Body, has been critically undermined since late 2019. In this context, the rise of “minilateral” groupings like the Quad and AUKUS makes sense as more agile, issue-focused arrangements. The intensification of competition in new arenas is another area where the trends have sharpened. The race for technological supremacy in AI and semiconductors has evolved into a major geostrategic fault line, clearly visible in the US export controls targeting China’s tech advancement and Beijing’s equally determined drive for self-reliance. The “battle of narratives” and the focus on securing critical resources through policies like “friend-shoring” are all facets of this new competitive landscape I was beginning to outline.
The characteristics of this emerging multipolar order also align with my earlier thinking, perhaps with even greater intensity. The increased volatility is palpable. Global military expenditure reaching a record $2.718 trillion in 2024, as reported by SIPRI, reflects a world increasingly reliant on “hard” geopolitics. The conflicts in Ukraine and the Middle East are grim affirmations of this. Diplomacy, as I suspected, often appears more overtly transactional, with immediate national interests frequently superseding long-term, value-based alliances. The “hedging” phenomenon, which I was observing among states wishing to avoid rigid alignments, is now a mainstream strategy for many nations, particularly in Southeast Asia and the Gulf, as they navigate the complex pulls of competing major powers.
The implications for addressing our shared global challenges—a core concern of my 2016 piece regarding isolationism—are perhaps the most sobering aspect to revisit. Effective climate action, for instance, is demonstrably complicated by geopolitical rivalry. The US-China dynamic, critical to any global climate solution, has at times created a “governance vacuum,” as The Diplomat recently noted, potentially fracturing efforts and diverting vital resources towards military rather than green investments. The COVID-19 pandemic provided a painful lesson in how “vaccine nationalism” can hamper global health security. Economic stability, too, is increasingly vulnerable to trade fragmentation and strategic “decoupling,” which can disproportionately impact developing nations. And the erosion of the arms control architecture, with treaties like New START facing expiry without a clear successor, brings the specter of a renewed nuclear arms race into sharper, more alarming focus.
Reflecting on my “Western Fall” thesis from 2016, it seems less about an absolute, terminal decline of the West and more about a profound, ongoing recalibration of its relative power and influence in a world where other poles are not just rising but are now firmly established. This “new normal,” as I termed it then, is indeed dynamic and intensely contested. The challenge for Western nations, as I saw it, was to adapt. That adaptation now requires an even deeper acknowledgment of a diffused power landscape, a greater emphasis on internal cohesion to ensure credible external engagement, and perhaps a re-envisioning of “leadership” away from unilateral direction towards facilitation and broad coalition-building. For the rising powers, their enhanced stature brings the undeniable opportunity to reshape global norms, but also the critical responsibility to contribute constructively to global public goods.
The risk of a “G-Zero” world, as analysts like Ian Bremmer now describe it—an era lacking clear global leadership, potentially leading to greater instability—is a starker possibility than perhaps even I fully grasped in 2016. The “deliberate steering” I called for then remains an urgent imperative. The political systems are indeed sorting themselves out, as I believed they would, but the turbulence of this process underscores the enduring need for foresight, resilience, and a pragmatic commitment to finding common ground in an undeniably fractured, yet interconnected, world. My reflections then were a snapshot; the unfolding reality continues to be a complex, challenging, and ever-evolving picture.