Book Review: The Owned Continent and Europe’s Search for Autonomy

In the first quarter of the twenty-first century, a familiar refrain has emerged: we are living through so much history. More pessimistically, for some, it has become: “I am sick of living through so much history.”

The exhaustion brought on by these social and political shifts is often felt most acutely when analyzing the slow-motion fragmentation of the Western world, as nationalist political forces in the United States have ridiculed and threatened their European allies with tariffs and even territorial expansion, most notably in the case of Greenland. Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney now famously described this moment as a “rupture” between middle powers like Canada and European countries on the one hand, and Washington, raising a broader question that extends across the globe: can Western democracies move beyond dependence, or is autonomy still a political illusion?

“Today I will talk about a rupture in the world order, the end of a pleasant fiction and the beginning of a harsh reality, where geopolitics, where the large, main power, geopolitics, is submitted to no limits, no constraints.” — PM Mark Carney

Across the Atlantic, this breakdown in relations has acted as a catalyst for the European Union to assert its own military, cultural, and economic power. In The Owned Continent: How to Free Europe from American Military, Economic, and Cultural Dependence, journalist Dave Keating advances a provocative case for a European Union fully independent of its American counterpart. He traces the roots of Europe’s dependence while outlining a path toward a more consolidated and commanding political entity capable of shaping global affairs on its own terms.

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American Hegemony

One of The Owned Continent’s key contributions is its narrative account of Europe’s position within three overlapping forms of hegemony: cultural, economic, and military.

Culturally, Keating traces the dominance of American media to Hollywood’s ‘racket-like protection,’ at times backed by the U.S. State Department to promote its global reach. The result has been what he terms “cultural dumping,” with American films historically making up as much as 70 percent of those consumed in some European markets (p. 54). Similar dynamics unfolded during and after the Cold War, as American music and television industries crowded out Europe’s own cultural production. As Keating summarizes, “Europe’s relationship with American culture isn’t an exchange; it’s a one-way, producer-to-consumer relationship” (p. 217).

Economic dominance, by contrast, was not imposed so much as embraced. At Bretton Woods in 1944, European and American leaders constructed a global financial system centered on the U.S. dollar. America’s relative insulation from wartime destruction positioned it to finance European reconstruction through dollar-denominated lending. While this system proved effective in rebuilding Europe, it also entrenched long-term monetary dependence.

Militarily, Europe accepted a similar arrangement. The United States established bases across the continent, while European states invested heavily in American defense systems in exchange for NATO protection and the U.S. nuclear umbrella. This arrangement has begun to fray. Spain’s recent refusal to allow U.S. bases to be used for offensive operations in Iran, and President Trump’s frequent threats toward the alliance, reflect growing tensions. Structurally, the system has also left Europe with a fragmented and underdeveloped defense industry, deepening reliance on American firms even as the continent seeks to rearm. As Keating notes, even this relationship carries uncertainty, with President Trump stating: “Certain allies, we’ll be selling them perhaps toned-down versions [of weapons]…because someday maybe they’re not our allies, right?” (p. 206).

Taken together, these domains reveal not a stable partnership, but a layered system of dependence that has become increasingly disadvantageous for Europe. Mr. Trump's second term has made what once appeared to be a strategic arrangement now resembles a structural liability for the EU. It is this convergence of dependence and instability that has forced Europe to reconsider its orientation toward the United States. Keating argues that meaningful autonomy will require a fundamental rethinking of these entrenched relationships, and he outlines six ambitious avenues for doing so.

Towards European Independence

Keating’s proposed steps toward European independence read as part policy program and part prophecy. Taken together, they suggest not merely a set of reforms, but a structural imperative: many of these changes must occur, or are already beginning to occur, if Europe is to regain meaningful autonomy in an increasingly unstable transatlantic order.

One leitmotif of the work is the role of language in shaping cultural production. Keating argues that the dominance of English across the continent has constrained the reach of works produced in German, Dutch, and other less widely spoken languages. With roughly half of Europeans speaking English as a first or second language, countries like Sweden have become major cultural exporters by producing content in English for global markets. Employing English may be read cynically as an abandonment of national culture, or more optimistically as a vehicle for exporting it. Sweden is able to penetrate American, British, and other global markets precisely because it embraces English-language production. In doing so, it effectively leverages the imperial legacy of Britain and the cultural reach of the United States to project its own output, something far more difficult for Flemish, Portuguese, or even French-language producers operating in more linguistically bounded markets.

Keating also calls for deeper federalization within the European Union, envisioning a political structure capable of coordinating action across its diverse member states. This proposal is paired with a critique of existing institutions, particularly the European Council, which he describes as both overly influential and largely opaque to the public. While advocating reform, Keating notes that populist leaders have little incentive to educate citizens about how the EU actually functions. This dynamic is not simply a matter of neglect, but of strategic ignorance: a deliberate refusal to clarify institutional realities in order to preserve political advantage.

In my own analysis of nationalist discourse at CPAC Europe (a transnational gathering of right-wing political actors that serves as an American-led hub for shared messaging), the primary out-group is almost invariably “Brussels,” invoked as a faceless and overreaching authority even in policy areas where it has little to no direct involvement. This rhetorical move allows both challengers and incumbents to deflect from domestic policy failures while sustaining a narrative of external imposition. In this sense, civic ignorance is not accidental, but cultivated.

“National politicians are in no hurry to properly inform and educate citizens about Europe. They prefer to keep the myth of a remote, technocratic, and weak Europe alive. The lack of knowledge allows them to hide the failure of intergovernmental Europe from sight, and to put the blame on an abstract ‘Brussels’ or ‘Europe’” — Dutch MEP Sophie in ’t Veld (p. 256)

Beyond culture and civic literacy, the book echoes many of the economic reforms advanced by Mario Draghi, including challenging dollar dominance through the euro and consolidating European capital markets. The latter is particularly crucial, as it would allow European technology firms to scale within the continent rather than relocating to the United States for expansion capital, addressing one of the EU’s most persistent structural weaknesses.

Keating further underscores the need for a cohesive European defense architecture, advocating for an EU army, an idea periodically advanced by European leaders in recent years. Elements of this vision are already beginning to take shape. France and the United Kingdom have floated the possibility of extending a nuclear umbrella across Europe, while several member states are revisiting long-delayed joint weapons projects. Whether these efforts coalesce into the kind of unified force Keating envisions will depend largely on the trajectory of U.S. foreign policy, particularly if nationalist forces continue to destabilize NATO.

The book’s final, and perhaps most important, reform is psychological: persuading Europeans to believe in their own capacity for autonomy. Keating argues that decades of dependence have produced a deep-seated lack of confidence in Europe’s ability to act independently.

“I think the lack of ambition and courage in Europe today is a hangover from the trauma of World War II, and the mental impact of being occupied militarily, economically and culturally by America and Russia since then. Europeans are not born without self-confidence; the circumstances of this continent make them that way.” — Keating (p. 335)

Regaining this confidence would not simply alter Europe’s internal trajectory; it would disrupt the hierarchical assumptions that have long structured the transatlantic relationship, particularly among segments of the American right that view European subordination as both natural and desirable.

The (Potential) Leader of the Free World

After the 2016 election, some commentators crowned former German Chancellor Angela Merkel the new “leader of the free world.” While that assessment may have been somewhat alarmist during President Trump’s first term, the legal and normative violations of his second administration have left many political scientists and scholars wondering whether the free world is once again in need of new leadership. America’s storied system of checks and balances has been subjected to pressures reminiscent of the agenda championed by Viktor Orbán and other openly “illiberal” leaders. As the American legal system continues its cycle of perpetual catch-up with the administration’s “flood the zone” tactic (overwhelming political opponents and institutions with a barrage of dubious actions), we find renewed urgency in the question: who leads the free world?

Mr. Carney’s Davos speech offered one final aphorism for our current moment: the sign in the window. The story centers on a Soviet-era shopkeeper who, as routinely as insincerely, displays the slogan “Workers of the World, Unite” each day, not out of conviction, but to signal compliance and avoid trouble. The system, Carney suggests, endures not through force alone, but through the quiet repetition of rituals that individuals privately recognize as hollow. Today, the sign looks different. It is not ideological orthodoxy, but the unspoken acceptance of a transatlantic order in which American leadership is treated as both natural and necessary. It is the assumption that security must be outsourced, that markets must be dollarized, that culture flows in one direction. “When even one person stops performing, when the greengrocer removes his sign, the illusion begins to crack…Friends, it is time for companies and countries to take their signs down.” Dave Keating, in this sense, has taken down his sign.

The greatest achievement of The Owned Continent is its articulation of what the European Union could become: a democratic bulwark capable of shaping global affairs on its own terms. In an era defined by fragmentation and uncertainty, the EU may be uniquely positioned to assume a more central role in sustaining liberal democratic norms, precisely the trajectory Keating argues is both necessary and still within reach. Should the American political system succumb to the worst impulses of a disillusioned electorate or the authoritarian tendencies of nationalist movements, the free world may soon find a different kind of sign in its window, one that Europe, more than any other actor, is now positioned to answer: Help Wanted.