Though never certain or guaranteed, there was a time not so long ago when the prospect of global convergence around OECD living standards seemed to be – if not within immediate reach – at least a reasonable long-term expectation. During those long nineties, “millennial capitalism” had not yet run its course, 9/11 paranoia was as unheard of as ISIS, and the world was still imbued with the liberal optimism of having survived the nuclear nightmare. Yet even then, the idea that the entire world could one day resemble, say, the Nordic countries was provocative to many. Dependency theorists maintained that the wealth of some was only possible through the exploitation of others. Cultural essentialists argued that the poor lacked the moral or intellectual capacity for development. And post-development theorists had begun to suggest that the poor might not even want a modern life.
Adding to these critiques was a growing Malthusian current, present since the 1970s, convinced that universal affluence would trigger immediate ecological collapse.
However, given the sweeping social transformations a country like Sweden had undergone over just a couple of centuries – not to mention the rapid advances in science and technology—the burden of proof should reasonably have fallen on those who doubted the possibility of a brighter global future. It was one thing to deny the feasibility of mass democracy, gender equality, or social welfare in 1690 – quite another to do so in 1990. Yet somehow, that rather obvious observation never gained traction. Instead, as many sociologists have noted, there was a gradual loss of confidence in our collective capacity to shape the future democratically.
Fast forward to 2015, and the world is – if not in flames – then slowly scorching. The global carbon cycle is being altered, wars engulf the Middle East, and the hypermasculine language of geopolitics and “security” is back with a vengeance, from Northeast Asia to Europe. In the rich world, a toxic mix of underinvestment in social infrastructure, stagnating wages, and overreliance on debt-financed consumption has led to sluggish or even negative growth.
In the wake of the financial crisis, globalization is approached with trepidation – not merely for material reasons, but for deeper existential anxieties. Rather than embracing a more fluid world that demands individuals create value on a global stage, xenophobic parties and nationalist politicians offer the promise of restored stability, homogeneity, and continuity with a romanticized past.
In Sweden – long seen as a vanguard of progressive politics – the xenophobic Sverigedemokraterna is now the largest party among men. Across the Baltic in Russia, Putin speaks the same language of contempt for perceived weakness. In Asia, proxy conflicts over islands reflect a broader failure to move beyond historical victimhood and a corresponding reluctance to assume responsibility for the future.
All of this has diminished the hope for a fully integrated world grounded in shared democratic norms and global citizenship. While the European Union continues to offer an example of political and economic integration, the euro crisis has laid bare an enduring truth: if your consumption consistently outpaces your productivity, and you neglect essential social investments, such as gender equality and modernization, your society will eventually falter. The single currency has merely made it harder to mask this through devaluation. Combined with deregulated financial markets, this has triggered a widespread political backlash against the European project, from both net contributors and recipients.
Meanwhile, the failure to integrate Turkey has lent weight to notions of “European exceptionalism” and reinforced the view that Europe's experience is a historical anomaly rather than a template for global integration.
An optimistic reading would see all this as temporary setbacks, speedbumps on the road toward a global welfare state. Without embracing
teleology, there are good reasons to think this may still be the case. Over the past few decades, global market integration has accelerated, and surveys like the World Values Survey consistently show a global drift away from traditional authority and towards secular-rational values, greater individual freedom, and autonomy.
Yet politically and ideologically, there has been a surprising lack of imagination around a world premised on universal mobility and shared prosperity. Even among progressives, the idea of global economic convergence now often provokes fear rather than hope. With climate change emerging as the defining issue of our time, the Malthusian belief that a modern life for all is ecologically untenable has become both widespread and deeply entrench.
Worse still, cultural perfectionist critiques of so-called “mass consumption” have fused with protectionist anxieties about foreign competition into an ideology that treats chronic poverty abroad, rebranded as “sustainable livelihoods” powered by small-scale renewables, as an acceptable price for climate stability. For adherents of such views, a delayed or incomplete globalization is not a tragedy, but a perverse kind of relief, as it seemingly lessens the urgency of climate mitigation.