Why China’s Belt and Road Is Failing in Europe (2025 Update)

China once promised to redraw the global trade map. Through massive infrastructure, financial deals, and cross-border partnerships, Beijing launched its most ambitious foreign policy project in modern history: the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). Europe, rich in markets but struggling with slow growth and aging infrastructure, looked like a perfect partner.

But in 2025, the ground reality tells a different story. What began as a symbol of cooperation has now become a cautionary tale. The once-celebrated railways, ports, and strategic investments are now facing delays, budget overruns, and political blowback. Countries that once welcomed Chinese money with open arms are now stepping away, raising tough questions about control, sovereignty, and trust.

I’ve walked through construction sites that were once seen as a new Silk Road frontier. Today, many lie dormant—rusted gates, abandoned cranes, and locals wondering what happened to all the promises.

A Vision Born in Beijing, Tested in Europe

The Belt and Road Initiative was announced in 2013 by Chinese President Xi Jinping. It wasn’t just a trade policy—it was a statement of ambition. China would build railways through Central Asia, ports across Africa, and economic corridors into Europe. It would fund roads in Kenya, pipelines in Pakistan, and railways in Eastern Europe—all while strengthening Beijing’s grip on global logistics.

At its heart, BRI drew inspiration from the ancient Silk Road—a historic trading route that once connected China with the Roman Empire. But this time, the scale was unprecedented. Over 140 countries signed on. Estimates valued the initiative at over $1 trillion in investment potential. Europe, with its strategic location and high demand for infrastructure renewal, became a core focus.

China promised faster shipping routes between Asia and the heart of Europe. Trains would run from Chongqing to Duisburg. Chinese-owned terminals would process cargo in Athens and Trieste. Rail lines would link Budapest with Belgrade. For many countries in Southern and Eastern Europe—still recovering from the 2008 financial crisis—these projects offered a lifeline.

By 2021, China had poured more than $100 billion into European infrastructure, manufacturing, and logistics. The investment wave brought hope. And for a while, it looked like China was on track to reshape global trade—starting from European soil.

Italy’s Entry Marked a Turning Point

In 2019, Italy stunned the West by officially joining the BRI, becoming the first G7 nation to sign on. The deals were ambitious. Nearly $3 billion worth of partnerships were promised, spanning ports, construction, telecom, and energy sectors. Italy’s leaders portrayed the move as pragmatic, saying it would open new export channels and attract Chinese capital.

China hailed Italy’s decision as a diplomatic victory. State media celebrated. Italian ports like Genoa and Trieste became hot spots for Chinese interest. Rome believed it had secured a seat at the center of China’s economic vision.

But what came next revealed the hidden costs.

Projects moved slowly. The promised investments often failed to materialize in full. Italy’s trade with China showed marginal growth. And Beijing’s presence, instead of fostering mutual growth, created tension within the European Union—where Brussels had been warning members to approach China’s offers with caution.

Italy’s government, facing both internal pressure and mounting European concern, began re-evaluating its position.

By 2023, Italy formally pulled out. Officials cited disappointment, underwhelming economic outcomes, and a lack of transparency. The symbolic weight of this decision rippled across Europe.

The Risks Beneath the Surface

Beneath the surface of flashy announcements and ribbon-cutting ceremonies, the reality of BRI-funded projects began to change. Nations once thrilled by billion-dollar headlines started uncovering risks in the fine print.

Let’s examine the Budapest–Belgrade railway. Meant to be a high-speed link between the capitals of Hungary and Serbia, it symbolized China’s vision for Central Europe. Yet more than a decade later, the project remains incomplete. Costs have ballooned from $2 billion to over $3 billion. Most of the contracts went to Chinese companies. Construction timelines were pushed back. Local workers had limited roles.

Public frustration grew. Questions surfaced: Was this really a partnership—or a handover of control?

This story played out in other nations too. In Montenegro, a Chinese-funded highway project left the country drowning in debt. In Greece, protests erupted over working conditions at the Chinese-run Port of Piraeus. In the Czech Republic, intelligence services warned about security risks linked to Chinese telecom ventures.

Each example chipped away at BRI’s credibility.

The Political Fallout in Brussels

As economic concerns escalated, political resistance followed. The European Commission began pushing back. In policy papers, leaders warned against reliance on non-transparent foreign capital. Investment screening laws were introduced to scrutinize foreign purchases of critical infrastructure.

Security experts flagged concerns about digital surveillance, port control, and data dependency. Intelligence agencies warned that some BRI-linked contracts could embed Chinese strategic access to sensitive assets.

The term “weaponized interdependence” entered policy discussions—describing how trade and investment links could be turned into pressure points in times of crisis.

NATO officials voiced concern as well, especially about Chinese stakes in European logistics hubs. Ports, fiber-optic networks, and data centers were no longer seen as neutral economic assets—they became part of a growing geopolitical chessboard.

By 2025, the political narrative had clearly shifted. European leaders talked less about opportunity and more about risk. Public opinion polls in Germany, France, and the Netherlands showed declining trust in Chinese companies.

The concept of “de-risking,” now central to EU-China policy, didn’t mean isolation—but control. Europe wanted fewer unknowns, clearer oversight, and a stronger focus on domestic resilience.

The Human Cost and Local Backlash

The Belt and Road wasn’t just a geopolitical gamble—it had real human consequences.

In construction zones across Europe, local workers were often sidelined. Chinese companies brought their own equipment, labor, and management. Local industries struggled to participate. Environmental reviews were sometimes bypassed. Contracts remained opaque.

Communities near ports and rail corridors began asking hard questions. Who gets the jobs? Who owns the land? What happens when projects stall?

In Spain, union leaders protested outside Chinese-managed terminals. In Italy, civic groups demanded full disclosure of BRI contracts. Across Eastern Europe, activists raised alarms about debt risks and land acquisitions.

These grassroots movements may not have made international headlines, but they chipped away at the trust that BRI needed to survive.

China’s Shift Toward the Global South

Facing growing resistance in Europe, China is shifting focus. Asia, Africa, and Latin America have become the new pillars of BRI activity. In these regions, demand for infrastructure remains high, and political opposition is less entrenched.

In Kenya, Pakistan, Brazil, and Indonesia, Chinese-funded roads, ports, and power grids still advance. The same questions about debt and control exist—but with fewer institutional guardrails, the deals often proceed faster.

Beijing now markets BRI as “South-South cooperation,” emphasizing partnership among developing nations. Projects in Djibouti, Laos, and Egypt move forward with strong state support.

But the pivot comes with its own set of challenges: instability, corruption, and exposure to geopolitical tensions with the United States and India.

Still, China sees these regions as more receptive—and more dependent on its capital.

Europe’s New Playbook

Europe is not just retreating from BRI—it’s building its own strategy. Through initiatives like the EU Global Gateway, Brussels aims to compete by funding infrastructure in Africa, Central Asia, and the Indo-Pacific. The goal: offer transparency, sustainability, and local ownership.

Countries like Germany and France are pushing for a collective European voice on foreign investment. Screening laws are becoming stricter. National security reviews are routine. Investment from authoritarian states now faces more scrutiny than ever before.

Europe has learned the cost of unchecked optimism. And now, its institutions are creating guardrails to protect sovereignty and long-term interests.

What Lies Ahead

China’s Belt and Road Initiative will continue. The vision is too deeply tied to Beijing’s foreign policy to disappear. But its future in Europe looks uncertain.

Trust, once damaged, takes years to rebuild. Europe now sees China as a rival as much as a trade partner. Infrastructure projects will still happen—but under tighter rules, slower timelines, and with more local oversight.

The days of open access and unchecked deals are over.

For Beijing, the challenge is clear: adapt to a new global mood or risk losing more ground.

And for Europe, the lesson is just as important. Infrastructure is not just about steel and concrete—it’s about sovereignty, accountability, and public trust.

I’ve stood in places where those values were ignored—and saw how quickly excitement turned into regret.