Europe is facing profound challenges, not just from overt invasions or acts of terror, but from policies shaped by centralised bureaucracies in Brussels, humanitarian organisations facilitating sea crossings, and judicial decisions emphasising progressive values. The continent that birthed cultural giants like Dante, Newton, and Beethoven, is now navigating experiments in open immigration policies, evolving social norms around gender, and ambitious environmental agendas — all overseen by technocratic leaders who often prioritise global integration over national sovereignty.
Yet, amid these shifts, a resurgence is underway. Across regions from the Carpathians to the Alps, a new wave of conservative figures is gaining ground — not the traditional market-oriented conservatives of the past, but populist leaders who emphasise national identity, heritage, and family values. Think of Viktor Orbán in Hungary, Giorgia Meloni in Italy, Geert Wilders in the Netherlands, and Santiago Abascal in Spain. These are not marginal voices; they represent an emerging force in European politics. This movement is not about withdrawal but about reclaiming control.
The established conservative parties, such as Germany's CDU, Britain's Tories, and France's Les Républicains, have lost much of their vitality. They advocate for free markets, yet oversee welfare systems strained by large-scale immigration. They pledge allegiance to national symbols while ceding authority to EU institutions. They criticise cultural shifts while supporting programs that some see as overly progressive. In Germany, CDU leader Friedrich Merz calls for stricter migration controls, but the country continues to accept hundreds of thousands annually under lingering policies. In France, centrist alliances under Macron have cracked down on online speech while urban areas grapple with unrest. In the UK, the Conservatives managed record net migration levels before electoral defeat. These groups, critics argue, are more about managing gradual change than driving bold reform.
In contrast, this new conservative movement builds on four core principles of resistance. First, secure borders are essential for national stability. Hungary's border fence has dramatically reduced unauthorised crossings, coinciding with economic growth. Italy's naval efforts under Meloni have cut sea arrivals significantly, easing pressures on entry points like Lampedusa. Poland's border fortifications have maintained security along vulnerable routes. The lesson: Robust border policies strengthen societies.
Second, family is viewed as the bedrock of governance. Hungary offers tax incentives for larger families, boosting marriage rates. Italy provides bonuses for new parents and supports family-oriented initiatives in certain regions. Poland's child benefits have contributed to a slight uptick in fertility rates. While some nations focus on diverse social programs, these leaders prioritise support for traditional family structures to encourage population growth.
Third, cultural preservation is non-negotiable. In France, figures like Éric Zemmour rally large crowds around themes of national heritage. In the Netherlands, Wilders' party has surged on platforms advocating for cultural cohesion. In Spain, Vox pushes for stricter oversight of foreign influences in public life. The underlying idea: A society must safeguard its shared values to remain unified, rather than becoming a transient space without roots.
Fourth, excessive centralisation in Brussels is seen as a threat. Hungary has faced EU fund withholdings over disputes on governance standards, including educational policies. Italy under Meloni has challenged fiscal directives to fund security measures. Poland's ongoing tensions with EU courts highlight the push-pull between national priorities and supranational rules. The rallying call is for greater autonomy, echoing Brexit's sentiment but applied within the continent.
These leaders operate without dominant media support or judicial favour, but they leverage other strengths. Demographically, conservative-leaning families tend to have more children, as noted in studies by scholars like Eric Kaufmann. Digital platforms like Telegram, Rumble, and X allow direct communication, bypassing traditional outlets. Younger generations in places like France are increasingly vocal about identity and economic concerns. Economically, Hungary's progress under Orbán — surpassing some peers in GDP per capita — demonstrates that these approaches can yield tangible benefits.
This European shift aligns with global trends. Figures like Donald Trump could encourage bolder EU policies on migration. Leaders like Javier Milei in Argentina inspire efforts to streamline institutions and reduce ideological overreach. This isn't a replay of dark historical eras but a counter to perceived overreach in progressive governance.
The challenges are stark: Europe's native populations represent a small global fraction, fertility rates hover below replacement levels, and net migration into the EU exceeds a million annually. Yet, optimism persists through actionable strategies. Remigration policies, like Denmark's deportation of unsuccessful asylum cases, show even centre-Left governments adapting. Pronatalist incentives aim to support families over unchecked inflows. Decentralisation seeks to empower regions like Lombardy, Bavaria, or Catalonia, while limiting central EU influence. Cultural efforts focus on promoting classical education and heritage over fleeting trends.
In the end, Europe is not fading quietly — it's awakening with determination. From alliances like the Visegrád Group to public demonstrations in cities like Vienna, from Rome to The Hague, a clear message resonates: This is our homeland, our future generations, our shared way of life — and we will defend it through democratic means. The modern European conservative is not a relic but a pragmatic advocate, wielding votes, family policies, and border security to chart a resilient path forward. The renewal is underway.
A lesson for the West.