Mark Carney is showing America and Britain the kind of leadership they have abandoned

The Illusion of Transition

The central point of Carney’s speech is radical in its simplicity: “We are in the midst of a break, not a transition.” This distinction is crucial. A transition implies an orderly shift from one state to another. It suggests that the fundamental rules remain in place while the arrangements change. It offers hope that the old order can be preserved, adapted, or reformed. A rupture, on the other hand, is something entirely different. It is an abrupt break. A break in continuity. The end of one system and the beginning of another with fundamentally different rules.

Carney explains that we are not simply experiencing a period of temporary difficulties. We are witnessing the end of the international order that emerged after World War II. This order, based on American hegemony and multilateral institutions such as the WTO, the UN, and climate agreements, has collapsed. The major powers no longer abide by the rules they themselves created. They use international institutions when it suits them and ignore them when it does not. It is a world where “the strong do what they can, and the weak suffer what they must,” to borrow Thucydides’ aphorism.

This acknowledgment of the rupture is liberating. At last, someone has the courage to say that the emperor has no clothes. That the king is dead. That we cannot continue to act as if everything will carry on as before. There is something almost religious about this acceptance of the truth. About this refusal to deny reality. Carney offers us the chance to accept reality not as a defeat, but as a starting point. As an opportunity to build something new and better. It is an invitation to stop mourning the past and start building the future. And that is exactly what we need.

The Militarization of Economic Integration

A particularly troubling aspect of this rupture is the way in which economic integration—long regarded as a force for peace and prosperity—has become a weapon. For decades, the prevailing view was that economic interdependence made wars less likely—that countries that trade with one another are less likely to go to war. This idea has guided Western foreign policy since the end of the Cold War. But Carney makes it clear that this logic no longer holds.

Major powers now use tariffs as a lever for political pressure. They threaten to cut off access to financial markets to secure political concessions. They exploit dependencies in supply chains as strategic vulnerabilities. Economic integration, rather than being a source of protection, has become a source of subordination. Carney is explicit: “You cannot ‘live a lie’ about mutual benefit through integration when integration becomes the source of your subordination.”

This complete reversal of global economic logic both terrifies and fascinates me. For years, we were told that trade was the answer to all problems. That opening markets would bring peace and prosperity. And now, we are discovering that these very same mechanisms can be used to subjugate and control us. It’s like discovering that the weapon we thought was protecting us can in fact be turned against us. Carney makes it clear that we can no longer rely on the mechanisms of the past to protect us. We must develop new forms of resilience. New forms of strategic autonomy. This is a call for clarity that we cannot ignore.

The Trap of Individual Autonomy

Faced with this disruption, many countries are reacting in an understandable way: they are seeking to develop their strategic autonomy. They want to be able to feed themselves, secure their own energy supplies, and defend themselves. Carney acknowledges that this impulse is legitimate. “A country that cannot feed itself, secure its own energy, or defend itself has few options.” But he also warns of the dangers of this approach. If every country builds its own fortress, the result will be a poorer, more fragile, and less sustainable world.

The problem is that strategic autonomy comes at a cost. It requires massive investments in domestic production, defense, and critical infrastructure. These costs can be overwhelming for individual countries. And they may even run counter to the sustainable development goals that the international community has set for itself. It’s a classic dilemma: how to uphold one’s principles and values while protecting oneself against powers that respect neither?

This is where Carney’s vision becomes truly fascinating. He rejects the binary choice between submission and isolation. He proposes a third way. A path that recognizes the need for resilience but rejects the “every man for himself” mentality. It is a nuanced vision that acknowledges the complexity of the world in which we live. A vision that rejects ideological oversimplifications and seeks practical solutions to difficult problems. This is exactly the kind of leadership we need in this time of crisis.

The Power of Collective Cooperation

Carney’s proposed solution is elegant in its simplicity: middle powers must cooperate with one another to build their collective resilience rather than individually seeking to build fortresses. “The costs of strategic autonomy and sovereignty can also be shared,” he says. “Collective investments in resilience are less costly than if everyone builds their own fortress. Common standards reduce fragmentation. Complementarities yield positive results.”

Carney explains that Canada has already begun putting this approach into practice. The Canadian government has signed twelve trade and security agreements across four continents in six months. It has formed strategic partnerships with the European Union, China, and Qatar. It is negotiating free trade agreements with India, ASEAN, Thailand, the Philippines, and Mercosur. It uses what it calls “variable geometry”—different coalitions for different issues based on shared values and interests.

This “variable geometry” approach strikes me as brilliant. It recognizes that the world has become too complex for rigid, immutable alliances. It allows for a flexibility that is essential in a rapidly changing environment. It’s as if Carney were saying: we cannot have permanent friends or enemies; we must have permanent partnerships based on specific converging interests. It is a mature, sophisticated worldview that rejects Cold War simplifications and acknowledges the complexity of the 21st century. This is exactly the kind of strategic thinking we need.

The Incompetence of the British Political Class

The Byline Times article highlights a particularly disheartening point: it is almost impossible to imagine Keir Starmer or any other British leader delivering a speech of this caliber. Starmer himself is no doubt aware of the dangers of this moment and the risk to British national interests posed by an America that has spiraled out of control. But he is unable to articulate them. He is paralyzed by his own political timidity and convinced of his ability to influence Trump through “whispering.”

The problem is that Starmer has never delivered a memorable speech in a decade of high-profile British politics. The only remarkable sentence that has ever passed his lips—the claim that Britain was becoming an “island of foreigners”—had such obvious racist connotations that he later had to disavow it. As for the rest of the British political class, there are few signs that either of the two parties currently leading in the polls—Reform and the Conservatives—understand anything about the consequences of this moment of rupture for Britain.

What strikes me is the sheer magnitude of the intellectual and political vacuum in Britain. The country that produced Winston Churchill, Margaret Thatcher, and Tony Blair now seems incapable of producing leaders capable of thinking strategically for the long term. The British political class seems entirely focused on short-term tactics, internal party struggles, and daily poll numbers. There is no vision. No strategy. No understanding of the geopolitical tectonic plates shifting beneath their feet. It’s like watching the crew of a sinking ship argue over the arrangement of the deck chairs while water floods the cabin.

The Consequences of Brexit

The situation in Britain is exacerbated by the consequences of Brexit. By leaving the European Union, Britain has deprived itself of opportunities to work alongside its European counterparts to seek common solutions to shared problems. Both major parties have been drained of their experience and talent following the years of Boris Johnson and Jeremy Corbyn. The sad truth is that in the current British political system, it is simply impossible to imagine someone of Carney’s caliber entering Parliament, let alone becoming prime minister.

This leadership vacuum is particularly dangerous at this critical juncture. Britain finds itself in a vulnerable position, both geographically and economically, facing an America that has become unpredictable. It needs leaders capable of navigating this complex new environment. Instead, it has leaders who seem not to understand that the environment has changed—who continue to act as if the rules of the old world still apply. This is a recipe for disaster.

Brexit was political and strategic suicide. I say this without any ambiguity. It has deprived Britain of its ability to influence decisions that directly affect its future. It has isolated the country at precisely the moment when unity with its natural allies was most crucial. And now we are seeing the consequences. A political class incapable of thinking beyond its own internal divisions. A country drifting aimlessly in a world that has become hostile. It is tragic. It is avoidable. And it is the direct result of decisions made by leaders who prioritized their personal ambitions over the national interest.

The Failure of Traditional Media

A particularly troubling aspect of the current crisis is the failure of traditional media to reflect its severity. The Byline Times article notes that on the very day Europe was facing its most serious international crisis since World War II, and with the transatlantic alliance teetering on the brink, The Times—once a serious newspaper—did not publish a single commentary discussing the alarming global turmoil.

The closest it came was an editorial that, instead of condemning Trump, praised the U.S. president for taking Starmer to task over the transfer of sovereignty of the Chagos Islands to Mauritius—a policy the U.S. president had previously supported. This intervention was clearly designed to pressure the British prime minister over his support for Greenland and Denmark. Conservative leader Kemi Badenoch, predictably but still to her immense disgrace, fell straight into this trap.

What revolts me is the mainstream media’s abdication of responsibility. Their role is to inform, analyze, and provide context—not to serve as a complacent mouthpiece for the propaganda of the powerful. When a newspaper like The Times chooses not to cover one of the most serious geopolitical crises of our time, it’s not just an editorial mistake. It’s a failure of its fundamental mission. It’s a betrayal of its readers, who rely on it to understand what’s happening in the world. And it’s particularly dangerous at a time when the truth is under attack from all sides.

The Need for Independent Journalism

In the face of this failure by traditional media, publications like Byline Times become even more crucial. They offer an independent and critical perspective that the mainstream media are no longer able or willing to provide. The article by Simon Nixon, which serves as our source, is a perfect example of the kind of investigative and analytical journalism that is sorely lacking in today’s media landscape. It rejects the oversimplifications and lies that dominate so much public discourse.

Yet these independent media outlets are struggling to survive. Byline Times relies on subscriptions from its readers, not on billionaires or offshore hedge funds. This is both its strength and its weakness. Its strength, because it guarantees its editorial independence. Its weakness, because it limits its reach and resources. In an ideal world, this type of journalism would be at the center of public discourse. Instead, it remains on the margins, accessible only to those who actively seek out alternative perspectives.

I am convinced that the survival of democracy depends on the survival of independent journalism. Without a free and critical press capable of holding those in power to account, we are doomed to live in a web of lies—and to participate in the false rituals that keep oppressive systems in place. Carney calls on us to “remove the sign from the window,” but how can we do that if we don’t even know the sign is there? That is the role of journalism: to show us what we refuse to see. To tell us what we refuse to hear. To give us the intellectual and moral tools to resist the temptation of complacency.

The Choice Between Submission and Collective Action

Carney concludes his speech with a clear call to action for middle powers. He presents them with a choice: “compete among themselves to win the favor of the great powers, or join forces to forge a third path that makes a difference.” He emphasizes that the great powers can, for now, afford to go it alone. They have the market size, military capability, and leverage to dictate their terms. Middle powers do not.

Carney explains that when middle powers negotiate only bilaterally with a hegemon, they negotiate from a position of weakness. They accept whatever is offered. They compete with one another to be the most accommodating. That is not sovereignty, he says. It is “performing sovereignty while accepting subordination.” Instead, middle powers must act together because “if we’re not at the table, we’re on the menu.”

This image—“if we’re not at the table, we’re on the menu”—is one of the most powerful I’ve heard in foreign policy. It perfectly captures the brutal reality of the balance of power between great and middle powers. It tells us clearly that we have a choice: to be the guests or to be the meal. To be the ones making the decisions or the ones upon whom decisions are made. It is a choice between dignity and submission. Between action and passivity. And Carney leaves no doubt as to which is the right choice.

The Conditions for Collective Action

Carney does not merely call for collective action. He also defines the conditions for its success. First, middle powers must “name reality.” They must stop invoking the “rules-based international order” as if it still functioned as advertised. They must call things by their proper names: a system of great-power rivalry in which the most powerful pursue their interests by using economic integration as a weapon of coercion.

Second, middle powers must act consistently, applying the same standards to allies and rivals alike. “When middle powers criticize economic intimidation from one direction but remain silent when it comes from another, we’re just keeping the sign in the window.” Third, middle powers must build what they claim to believe in. Instead of waiting for the old order to be restored, they must create institutions and agreements that function as described.

What fascinates me about this approach is its radical realism. Carney isn’t asking us to dream of an ideal world. He’s asking us to build a world that works. He isn’t asking us to wait for the great powers to change their attitude. He asks us to change our own attitude—to stop being passive victims of our own weakness and become the architects of our own strength. It is a message of empowerment that resonates particularly strongly in this moment of creeping despair. He tells us that we have the power to change our destiny if we have the courage to act together.

Carney as the De Facto Leader of the Free World

Since taking office last April, Mark Carney has emerged as the de facto leader of the free world. His speech in Davos, titled “A Pragmatic and Principled Path,” charts a course for others to follow. The hope is that our own leaders will have the good sense to follow his advice, unlike the previous generation of British leaders who failed to heed his warnings in 2016.

Carney’s rallying cry can and will be heard far beyond his audience in Davos. It resonates with all those who feel that the old order has collapsed but who refuse to accept the chaos that seems to be replacing it. It offers a vision of what could replace faltering American hegemony: a world where middle powers cooperate to uphold their values and autonomy in the face of geopolitical predators. It is a vision that is both realistic and inspiring.

I believe we are living through a pivotal moment in history—a moment when global leadership is at stake and the vacuum left by American withdrawal must be filled. Carney has shown that this vacuum can be filled, not by another superpower seeking domination, but by a network of middle powers cooperating to defend their shared values. It is a vision that gives me hope in these dark times. A hope that does not come from waiting for a savior, but from the conviction that we collectively have the power to save ourselves if we have the courage to act together. That is the ultimate lesson of this speech: leadership is not a matter of size or power; it is a matter of vision and courage.

The Urgency of the Moment

Carney’s speech serves as an urgent reminder that we cannot continue as before. “We know that the old order will not return,” he says. “We shouldn’t mourn it. Nostalgia is not a strategy.” Instead, we must accept this rupture for what it is: an opportunity to build something better, stronger, and more just. This is the task of the middle powers—the countries that have the most to lose from a world of fortresses and the most to gain from genuine cooperation.

Carney concludes his speech with a message of hope: “The powerful have their power. But we also have something—the ability to stop pretending, to call reality by its name, to build our strength at home, and to act together. This is Canada’s path. We choose it openly and with confidence. And it is a path wide open to any country ready to take it with us.” It is a call to action that we cannot ignore.