Last week in Brussels, the second Forum on the Global Gateway program reignited the debate surrounding one of the European Union’s most ambitious—and complex—international initiatives.
Launched in 2021, the Global Gateway strategy is not merely a funding mechanism. With an aspiration to mobilize more than €400 billion by 2027, it represents something far more profound: an attempt to turn infrastructure into an explicit instrument of European diplomacy and geopolitics. It is the realization that in the 21st century, influence is not just measured in military might or economic sanctions, but in the fiber optic cables, energy grids, and transport corridors that bind nations together.
Yet, as I listened to the discussions unfold, I couldn’t help but feel that we are still searching for the soul of this initiative. We speak of connectivity, of digital bridges and green energy corridors, but are we missing the human element that makes these connections durable? The Global Gateway proposes that Europe projects its influence through physical, digital, and social connectivity, anchored in values like sustainability, transparency, and institutional respect. It is, without a doubt, the most articulated response we have to the changing global order. Many analysts have even called it “the best geopolitical idea Europe has had in many years.”
But ideas, no matter how brilliant, must survive contact with reality. And the reality is that infrastructure is never just about cement and steel. It is about the people who build it, the engineers who maintain it, and the communities that live around it.
The Tension Between Solidarity and Strategy
The Global Gateway currently oscillates between two distinct narratives: solidarity and geostrategy. While these two concepts can certainly coexist, they are not identical. Solidarity implies a selfless giving, a desire to uplift neighbors for the sake of shared humanity. Geostrategy, however, is calculated; it is about securing interests and positioning oneself on the global chessboard.
Europe runs a significant risk if it allows this initiative to remain trapped in the realm of discourse. We cannot simply proclaim our values; we must demonstrate them. Values like transparency and sustainability are not abstract concepts to be written into a contract; they are practices that must be proven on the ground, in the dust and noise of construction sites across Africa, Latin America, and Asia.
The success of the Global Gateway will not be measured by the financial announcements made in Brussels, but by its capacity to convert promises into tangible, visible projects. It depends on our ability to mobilize the entire European ecosystem of infrastructure. And herein lies the challenge: are we bringing all our assets to the table?
Lessons from the Belt and Road
I remember clearly when I assumed the responsibility for international relations as Vice-Rector of the Technical University of Madrid (UPM) in 2016. At that time, China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) was beginning to deploy with formidable force. We had to study it deeply, not just as a geopolitical curiosity, but because it was rapidly extending into the university sector.
China understood something fundamental from the very beginning: infrastructure is not just a collection of physical assets. It is knowledge. It is training. It is the establishment of technical standards and the cultivation of long-term relationships.
A decade later, the balance sheet of the BRI is necessarily ambivalent. It has its shadows—unsustainable debts, environmental concerns—and it has faced well-founded criticism. But its scale is undeniable. With more than 150 countries involved and numerous infrastructures fully operational today, its impact is etched into the global landscape. Perhaps its greatest success was forcing the rest of the world, including Europe, to react. China was visionary in placing infrastructure at the very center of global geopolitics.
What struck me most during those years was how Chinese universities were positioned as key actors in this strategy. They were not bystanders; they were active participants, providing the necessary training, applied research, and institutional legitimacy to accompany the concrete and steel. They understood that to build a railway in a foreign land, you must also train the engineers who will run it.
The Sleeping Giant of European Soft Power
In Europe, this debate has arrived late, but it is finally beginning to gain traction. In March 2025, a coalition of European university associations published a joint statement directed at the European Commission. Their message was clear and urgent: they called for a much more explicit integration of higher education, research, and innovation within the Global Gateway framework.
This statement reflects a significant shift in tone. European universities are beginning to claim an active role, not merely as providers of talent, but as strategic actors in the diplomacy of infrastructure. And they are right to do so.
Think about where Europe still holds enormous capacity for influence. It is in our lecture halls and our laboratories. It is in the rigorous formation of engineers, urban planners, public managers, and researchers. These are the people who, for decades to come, will operate the energy corridors and digital networks that are currently in dispute.
When a student from the Global South comes to Europe to study engineering, they do not just learn formulas. They learn European standards of safety, environmental protection, and governance. They build networks with European peers. They absorb a way of thinking and working that prioritizes the values the Global Gateway claims to champion. This is the «software» that makes the «hardware» of infrastructure work.
Building Bridges That Last
If the European Union manages to fully integrate its universities into the Global Gateway, we will be doing far more than financing construction projects. We will be building relationships. We will be establishing standards and fostering trust.
In a world where geopolitics is increasingly played out in the technical, the regulatory, and the invisible, this human capital is perhaps our greatest comparative advantage. We are not just exporting capital; we are exporting capability. We are helping partner nations build their own capacity to manage and maintain their future, rather than leaving them dependent on external powers.
This brings us back to the core tension of the initiative. To move from rhetoric to reality, we need less fragmentation and more ecosystem. We need to understand that infrastructure diplomacy without universities is an incomplete strategy. It is like building a body without a nervous system.
The Path Forward: From Rhetoric to Reality
Europe has a profound opportunity—and I would argue, a responsibility—to demonstrate that its model works. We have the chance to show that infrastructure can be built in a way that is sustainable, transparent, and respectful of local institutions. But we cannot do this with checkbooks alone.
We need our universities to step into the arena. We need them to be the bridge builders, the standard-setters, and the diplomats of knowledge. It is time to recognize that the true power of the Global Gateway lies not just in the roads we pave, but in the minds we open and the relationships we nurture along the way.
The values we cherish are not self-evident to the rest of the world. They must be taught, shared, and lived. As we look toward the future of this initiative, let us ensure that we are building with our greatest resource: the intellectual and human capital that resides in our universities. Only then will our gateway truly be open to the world.