Your provocations about Europe, fraternal though they may be, touch on a profound tension at the heart of the transatlantic relationship: the dialectic between America’s can-do pragmatism and Europe’s burden of history. As Nietzsche observed, 'One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.' Europe, with its labyrinthine past, from the Enlightenment’s promise to the horrors of the 20th century, often finds itself paralyzed by its own depth, while America, unshackled by ancient ruins, charges ahead with a kind of innocent audacity. Yet, your critique isn’t just about energy; it’s about potential. Europe’s glory isn’t merely in its past, it’s in its capacity to synthesize its intellectual traditions (Kant’s cosmopolitanism, Camus’ rebellion, or even the EU’s flawed but noble experiment in post-national governance) with the dynamism of the modern world. The question isn’t whether Europe can rise again, but whether it dares to. As Camus wrote in The Rebel, 'The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.' Perhaps what Europe needs isn’t just American-style hustle, but a reconciliation of its own contradictions: the tension between its socialist ideals and market realities, its love of tradition and fear of the future, its moral ambition and strategic hesitation. The continent’s revival won’t look like America’s, it’ll be messier, more philosophical, perhaps even tragic in the classical sense. But if Europe can channel its chaos into creation, as Nietzsche urged, it might yet surprise the world. So yes, poke the bear. Remind Europe of what it’s capable of. But remember: the greatest civilizations aren’t built on rah-rah optimism alone. They’re forged in the fire of self-doubt, and then, despite it all, they act.