As the Middle East rises economically and strategically, Europe is increasingly confronting the unresolved political and moral consequences of its own colonial and historical legacy.
As the Middle East rises economically and strategically, Europe is increasingly confronting the unresolved political and moral consequences of its own colonial and historical legacy.
Europe often presents itself as the cradle of human rights. Yet its history with the Jewish people tells a far more complex story. And that story is not over. It has simply shifted geographically and transformed politically.
For centuries, Jews were expelled, marginalized, and blamed for the economic, religious, and identity crises of Europe. From the expulsion of Jews from Spain to the ghettos of Central Europe, and ultimately the Holocaust, Europe first constructed fear around the Jewish population before later carrying the immense burden of historical guilt.
Even today, that guilt continues to shape European policy in the Middle East. After the Second World War, a morally devastated Europe searched for a form of historical repair. For many Western leaders, the creation of Israel became part of the response to what was fundamentally a deeply European crime. While European guilt over the Holocaust was not the sole reason behind the creation of Israel, it significantly influenced Western support for the Israeli project after 1945.
Yet this act of repair did not take place in Europe itself. It was constructed elsewhere, in the heart of a region already shaped by its own peoples, histories, balances, and tensions. The British Mandate in Palestine, along with the Balfour Declaration, also played a major role in laying the geopolitical foundations of the modern conflict.
This marked the beginning of a profound historical displacement. Europe effectively transferred part of what it considered its “Jewish question” to the Middle East. Since then, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict has also carried the moral scars of Europe itself.
For decades, European powers played an ambiguous role in the region. They spoke of stability while simultaneously fueling divisions. They defended international law while applying it selectively according to geopolitical interests. They supported certain Arab regimes in the name of energy security, only to later condemn those same regimes in the name of democratic values. The Middle East became, for Europe, a space for both political and moral projection.
Even the borders of the region still carry the imprint of European intervention. Agreements such as the Sykes-Picot Agreement reshaped territories without regard for local historical, communal, or cultural realities. Many of today’s crises can still trace their roots back to this logic of strategic partition inherited from former colonial powers.
What is most striking today, however, is that the conflict is no longer confined to territorial or military dimensions. It has also become cultural. For decades, Europe viewed itself as the natural center of modernity, while the Arab world was often perceived through the lenses of instability, backwardness, or dependency. That perception is beginning to fracture.
Gulf countries are now investing heavily in technology, artificial intelligence, infrastructure, energy, and global media. Cities such as Dubai, Doha, and Riyadh increasingly seek to embody new forms of power and modernity. While some European societies struggle with internal doubt and fragmentation, several Arab capitals project an image of economic ambition, strategic confidence, and relative stability.
This modernity remains largely economic and technological and does not resolve all internal political or social challenges. Nevertheless, it is reshaping perceptions and symbolic power balances between the two worlds.
Europe still often views the Middle East through the lens of its colonial or security-focused past. But part of the Arab world no longer seeks merely to be recognized by Europe. It seeks to become an autonomous center of influence in its own right. And that transformation is deeply unsettling to the old balance of power.
Behind the Israeli-Palestinian conflict lies a broader struggle for influence: who defines modernity today? Who controls the moral narrative? And who still holds the power to shape the international order?
This is where the role of the United States becomes central. For decades, Washington has remained Israel’s primary strategic guarantor. But the United States itself is no longer as unified on this issue as it once was. Divisions within American society are becoming increasingly visible across universities, media, younger generations, and political elites. Support for Israel, once nearly consensual, is gradually becoming a source of internal polarization.
This evolution mirrors, in many ways, the broader European crisis. The West as a whole is experiencing a period of identity uncertainty, caught between historical memory, universal values, strategic interests, and shifting geopolitical realities. Meanwhile, the Middle East is slowly ceasing to be merely a theater of foreign intervention. It is becoming an active player in the emerging global order.
The irony of history remains stark. A continent that once failed to protect its Jewish population is still attempting to manage, from afar, the geopolitical and moral consequences of its own historical fractures. But no lasting stability can emerge from unresolved guilt, nor from memory transformed into a diplomatic instrument.
One day, Europe will have to confront its past with lucidity, without moral excess or selective amnesia. Otherwise, it will continue exporting its internal crises into a Middle East that is already in the process of redefining its own future.