Author's Preface
Christmas 2046 is approaching, and my book The Rise and Fall of the European Republic is finally complete. Of all the works I have published to date, this one comes closest to history itself. In my distant youth, my ideal was "to comprehend the changes spanning past and present, and to form a coherent narrative of one's own" — yet over the course of a life both long and brief, though I poured enormous effort into the national history of my Eastern homeland, all those efforts ultimately came to nothing, nor could they ever have.
Thirty years abroad — I shall not return!
For three decades I have lived and worked on this beautiful, fractured continent. As the former chief correspondent of the Toulu News Agency's European bureau, I reported on — and at times personally participated in — many of the moments that decided Europe's fate over these thirty years. The most profound of these, without a doubt, was the decade between 2025 and 2035 — specifically, from Bastille Day 2025 to exactly ten years later on the same date — that magnificent movement for European nationhood.
The history I have written is not merely the history of Europe as a geographic concept, but the painful history of Europe as a civilization seeking its own subjectivity and self-affirmation. To write this history in the manner of Sima Qian writing Records of the Grand Historian — that, at least, is my humble and consoling reckoning with the Chinese history I could never complete, and never will.
European nationhood — that is, the establishment of a unified nation-state bearing the name of Europe — has been a long-standing intellectual and political movement (for which, see my earlier work The Origins of European Nationhood). This book concerns the "European Republic Movement" of 2025 to 2035 — the most recent, and the closest to success, of all such attempts. I hope to reconstruct this history as faithfully and comprehensively as possible.
The movement's symbolic starting point was July 14, 2025 — two days before Sima Xiaoyu's birthday (for uninformed readers: Sima Xiaoyu is my son). After the Bastille Day military parade, French President Macron suddenly delivered a televised address, declaring, in the name of "the common destiny of European civilization," that France would unilaterally and unconditionally extend its nuclear umbrella over Ukraine — then under Russian invasion — and would join with Germany, Poland, and the Czech Republic to form the "European Aid-to-Ukraine Super Committee." It was called "Super" because this committee wielded powers approaching those of a sovereign state: within its mandate, it could coordinate member states' fiscal, diplomatic, and military affairs with binding authority. It adopted a simple majority decision-making process, decisively avoiding the interminable "brain death" that had plagued the old EU and NATO.
This triggered a chain of violent reactions. Facing Russia's fierce backlash, France successfully test-launched an intercontinental missile in August. Macron told reporters: "To reach Moscow, you really don't need that much range." In September, the "European People's Volunteer Army" was established, and countless idealists and opportunists — Ban Ergu among them — threw themselves into its ranks. With the unexpected intervention of Eastern powers, Europe's military industry was rapidly reactivated, and the tide of war turned dramatically in 2026.
That autumn, Russian President Putin suddenly disappeared, and Moscow plunged into chaos. President Macron bypassed the joint command of the Volunteer Army and the Ukrainian National Defense Forces, directly ordering General Ban Ergu to lead the "White Tiger Division" in a daring nighttime raid on Moscow — jeeps muffled with cotton quilts, advancing through the snow (operation codename: "Napoleon's Return") — to install the pro-European Alexei Volodin as president. Ban Ergu, the former security chief, became the commander of the European Army's Russia Command. It was a historic, glorious victory. In an interview the next day, Macron uttered his famous declaration: "Since we cannot rely on God, we shall be God ourselves." (Rumor has it that he then glanced at the First Lady beside him and added in a low voice, "Of course, that doesn't work in a marriage.")
After the pro-European regime took power in Russia, a Treaty of Perpetual Peace was signed between Russia and Europe, and Russia withdrew completely from Ukraine. Yet the glow of victory seemed only to accelerate the exposure of internal fractures. With the direct threat from the East removed, European nations instead grew deeply uneasy about the Franco-German push for European nationhood.
From the establishment of the "European Security and Development Super Committee" (the Super Committee) in 2027, to the formal launch of the "European Nationhood" process in 2028, every step was accompanied by violent growing pains. Nationalist backlash, conflicts of economic interest, sustained American pressure, and anarchist rebellions in digital space made the republic's ideal a painful slog through the mud of reality.
After its founding, the Super Committee decided to establish a standing European Army and a European Air Defense Command, and declared protective responsibility over the airspace of all EU member states — regardless of whether they had joined the Super Committee. This heavy-handedness inevitably provoked pushback. Italy's prime minister, Giulia Moretti — renowned for both her beauty and her toughness — declared to the media during a visit to the United States: "Europe doesn't need another daddy, and all of Europe knows what Monsieur Macron is like in front of his wife — he can't be my daddy either." On her return flight, the European Air Defense Command scrambled Rafale fighters to "escort" Prime Minister Moretti's plane. At ten thousand meters, Moretti called Macron to demand an explanation. His reply: "As a European leader, I must ensure your safety, Madame. High-altitude flight can be quite dangerous, you know." According to crew members who later spoke out, the Prime Minister was so furious she smashed her phone on the spot.
Through these crude tactics — a mix of coercion and enticement, threats and bribes — the Super Committee lurched forward with its agenda. Finally, in 2034, it compelled most European nations to attend the "European Republic Preparatory Conference" in Brussels, with a vote scheduled for November 9 to decide whether countries would formally enter the domestic referendum process. Once passed, European nationhood would enter an irreversible trajectory. That night, European heads of state drank and feasted through the night in Brussels — the planned capital of the republic — gazing out at the stars and city lights. Leaders raised their glasses again and again; golden champagne arced through the air. President Macron proclaimed: "This is a pivotal day in European history — no, in world history!" Just then, a secretary rushed in with a phone. German Chancellor Scholz learned from TikTok — from short videos and livestreams — that a coup had taken place in Berlin. The new government announced Germany's withdrawal from all European Republic proceedings. Almost simultaneously, Macron received an encrypted call from the U.S. President's National Security Advisor. The voice on the line said, in a tone cold and flat: "As you said, this is indeed a pivotal day in European history. Oh no — in world history." Click. This was the famous night known to history as "The Night of Brussels."
After "The Night of Brussels," European-minded forces in Germany plotted a counter-coup, but were swiftly suppressed by U.S. forces stationed in Germany. A dangerous standoff ensued between the U.S. forces in Europe and the nascent European Army. Ultimately, through the mediation of China's presidential envoy (who publicly told reporters: "A nuclear war cannot be won and must not be fought. The China-Europe strategic partnership is the cornerstone of world security and must not be shaken"), the U.S. and Europe reached a compromise, mutually recognized each other's existence, and delineated spheres of influence.
Afterward, France attempted to build a "small republic" without Germany, but failed. Europe's political landscape sank into deeper turmoil. Ukraine joined with Eastern European nations to prepare a "Eastern European Union" and was reportedly seeking nuclear capability again, apparently attempting to build an Eastern European superpower centered on itself. This triggered even greater upheaval and anxiety across the entire European continent.
Finally, on July 14, 2035, European nations signed the new Treaty of Vienna. The treaty confirmed each nation's sovereignty, committed all non-nuclear states to foreswear nuclear weapons, and abandoned the pursuit of a new European state — while affirming the continued commitment to European integration as an ultimate aspiration. This document was later regarded by historians as the formal end of the "European Republic Movement."
During those ten years, as a journalist, I was present at many critical moments. The most dramatic, perhaps, was in the spring of 2034, at what was supposed to be the preparatory conference for the birth of the "European Republic." The conference required European leaders to nominate the first president-designate of the future republic. As the only non-European, non-official person in the room, I was invited to help count the votes. And so I picked up a pen and, using the most ancient and traditional Chinese method of tallying — drawing the character 正 (zhèng), stroke by stroke — I recorded Europe's future on the whiteboard. The president-designate, entirely unsurprisingly, was the sitting French President, Macron.
In the chaotic minutes that followed, global media headlines screamed: "A Chinese man decided Europe's first president." I often boasted about this myself. A few days later, during a video call with my son Sima Xiaoyu, I proudly told him, "I decided Europe's first president." Then Sima Xiaoyuan brought me her phone. On TikTok, a video was going viral: a coup in Germany; the republic's preparatory conference postponed indefinitely. And at that famous "Night of Brussels" banquet, President Macron's champagne glass had shattered on the gleaming marble floor.
In that moment, I finally understood: the character 正 I had drawn was not the coronation of power, but the last crisp, absurd sigh of a great era approaching its end.
Much of the material in this book comes from the generous contributions of Dr. Corax Schelling, Dr. Goodman Spottiswood, Ms. Fatima, Mr. Emmanuel Macron, General Ban Ergu (Général Ben-Gourion), and many other participants. I conducted repeated verification and cross-referencing with them. If this book can stand as reliable history, their contribution far exceeds my own. Any errors or shortcomings that remain are entirely the responsibility of Sima Xiaoqian.
Sima Xiaoqian, Winter 2046, by Lake Como
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