© REUTERS/Radovan Stoklasa

The result of the Brexit referendum sent shock waves from London across the globe, but also thrust the European continent into the spotlight. It wasn’t just the future of the United Kingdom hanging in the balance, but that of Europe as a whole. The EU’s second largest economy – a military and diplomatic power with roughly an eighth of the union’s population – had decided to leave. The internal equilibrium of the union was upset, ostensibly in Germany’s favor, and populists from France to the Netherlands were emboldened to call for referenda of their own.

For the EU, the British exit represents an amputation, not a mortal blow – assuming the politicians responsible can rein in the forces Brexit has unleashed. They must resist the temptation to blame UK insularity or the lies of a vile campaign for the outcome and look the unsettling truth in the eye. The referendum result directly contradicts the Brussels doctrine, the ancient adage of European politics that dates back to the coal and steel days of Robert Schuman and Konrad Adenauer: Mutual economic interests will cement ties between grateful European peoples. British voters turned this axiom on its head. Their aversion to immigration was stronger than their fear of the economic consequences of leaving. Identity politics trumped economic interests. The tidal wave they unleashed has also upended the commonly held belief in Brussels that integration is a one-way street. Indeed, even more countries might wish to leave the union, and ceding EU powers back to the national level is no longer unthinkable. Simply put, Europe has until now marched confidently toward an ever closer union. The certainty of that course has now shown itself to be an illusion. Europe feels its historic fragility. Turning this into a strength will mean embracing public debate and accepting that controversy and conflict are the stuff politics is made of – not a threat but rather a sign of life.

In the aftermath of the British referendum, three fundamental questions have come to the surface: How can Europe create a relationship with its people? Is the union even equipped to react to major upheavals? Who leads in times of uncertainty? Put more starkly: how to deal with European voters, Brussels regulations, and German dominance?

Angry Rumblings

On the first question: It isn’t just British voters who are unhappy. Angry rumblings are growing louder across France, the Netherlands, Italy, and Denmark as well. Trust in EU institutions is at an all-time low. The eurocrisis left deep scars, both in countries forced to implement austerity measures and in those that had to pitch in with their own taxpayer money. The union lost credibility once again on the refugee crisis – first, by ordering reluctant member states to take in asylum seekers, then by attempting to stem the flow of people with a controversial deal with Turkey.

The EU is stuck with a fundamental dilemma: Its mission is primarily concerned with expanding the freedoms and opportunities of its citizens, and less so their protection. The union has been dismantling borders since it was established. It champions the freedom of movement to study or sell goods across borders, to travel or work. It makes Europe – in the words of Michel de Certeau – a space and not a place. It has equipped the well-educated, the young, and entrepreneurial with mobility.

But it has also disrupted a broad and underserved part of the population along the way. For them, the EU is one more piece of a rapidly globalizing world that moves in endless streams of goods and people, and they feel they are powerless to fight back – the sentiment that swung the British vote to “leave.” As long as there is no better balance between the freedoms the union creates and the protections it provides, voters elsewhere will continue to look to their own state for shielding them from Europe, too.

Disillusionment with centrist politics has also given way to political extremism on the fringes. In many member states, a well-organized nationalist sentiment has turned against the EU in the name of sovereignty and identity. This centrifugal force has stepped up pressure on Germany, the traditional “power in the middle” (Herfried Münkler), to hold the European center together. Of course, a glance at the US elections and the rise of Donald Trump shows Europe is not alone in facing populist nationalism. And yet it has a specific problem. For many voters, Brussels has transformed into a sort of foreign occupying power.

That lies in stark contrast to national politics. Every day a national government – take the one in Poland, for example – makes decisions that can be contested by opposition parties and even trigger protests or strikes. As a general rule, however, even the fiercest demonstrators accept the legitimacy of the Polish government itself. They may call on the Polish prime minister to step down tomorrow, but they would still consider him “our (infuriating) prime minister” or speak of “our (bad) laws.” This “our” is Europe’s Achilles’ heel. Few people consider European decisions “our” choices, or European politicians “our” representatives. This feeling of ownership – incredibly difficult to grasp, let alone to create – is essential to conferring legitimacy on joint decisions.

If the aim is to forge a real bond with citizens, an indispensable first step is to acknowledge that the European game is not taking place primarily on Brussels’ turf. European politics are played out between the governments, parliaments, judiciaries, and citizens of all the member states. Europe cannot be reduced to a few acres of office space in Brussels. Europe can only be built with its people, not without.

Reacting to Surprises

The second fundamental question the Brexit vote raises is this: Is Europe, hemmed in by Brussels’ rules and regulations, in a position to react to surprises? Here, a fascinating metamorphosis has taken place in recent years. After spending decades working to construct a common market and a developing a system of regulatory politics, member states have been forced to take on a new role since the financial and geopolitical drama of 2008: they are now also practicing a “politics of events.” They have saved a currency, engaged Russia in a battle of wills, taken on hundreds of thousands of refugees and now, they must wrestle with the demons of Brexit. This transformation started with the fall of the Berlin Wall and German reunification, when the Maastricht Treaty built a new “union” alongside the old “community;” the structures created then are being put to the test now.

The politics of events is qualitatively different from the regulatory politics that dominated Europe for much of the postwar period. For member states, it’s no longer only about regulating business and market behavior of other economic actors. Now they also must face the myriad challenges to the common order as a union, and act themselves. Up until this point, individual member states have been tasked with preserving external and internal security. Only member states have armies, diplomats, and security services at their disposal to preserve external and internal security; only they have enough taxpayers’ money to save big banks. This new practice of the union (which Chancellor Angela Merkel briefly called “union method”) has unsettled institutional interests and routines in Brussels (and the locally cherished “community method”). Another unsettling feature: The power asymmetry between EU states – long a taboo subject – is becoming ever more significant, especially when it comes to responsibility for action. Yet there is no practical alternative. In light of the dramatic acceleration of world history since 2008, in light of turmoil in the wider region, developing a common ability to act is a question of Europe’s basic survival, no matter how difficult the path.

The founding idea behind the European Union was to create a system of rules that would both encourage ties between member states and make them more predictable after the “Second Thirty Years’ War” that raged from 1914 to 1945. But when disruptive new events force member states to act together to confront new challenges, the limitations of the original strategy surface quickly. How should they respond when one member state suddenly goes broke, when a neighboring state invades another, when hundreds of thousands of refugees pour across the borders? No project, no treaty can anticipate the capriciousness of history, let alone provide an adequate response.

None of this should come as a surprise. Anyone who regularly reads their country’s newspapers will know that national politics involve a constant stream surprises, setbacks, and scandals, often with utterly unexpected outcomes. In a democratic setting, very little goes to plan. And Europe, a club of volatile democracies, is no exception. Momentum originates from a series of decisions, many of which are made on the national level, where leaders only grudgingly accept that certain problems are better managed together. This political interplay offers a more plausible explanation than either the pseudo-logic of integration theory and federalist teleology or the euroskeptic worldview of evil Brussels conspiracies. Events will continue to offer new surprises, and, against all odds, Europe is preparing for precisely that.

One indication is the influence that heads of state and government wield in the European Council. This forum was set up in 1974 as a counterweight to the Brussels rule factory, and it has stood at the forefront of the politics of events since 1993. The circle of presidents, prime ministers, and chancellors takes up the task of conquering the storms that beset Europe; in the eurocrisis, for example, the central institutions of the union had neither the financial means nor the legitimacy to overhaul the rules that lay at the foundation of their very existence. Between 2010 and 2012, Chancellor Merkel, President Nicolas Sarkozy, and their 25 colleagues drew up the decisions that saved the euro.

Influential European voices like Jacques Delors and Jürgen Habermas sharply criticized the role of those heads of government, decrying a “renationalization of European politics.” But the results can be interpreted instead as an “Europeanization of national politics,” a development that would in fact strengthen the European club as a whole.

Another important aspect of this metamorphosis: while the old, regulatory politics were a matter for experts and interest groups quietly operating under the radar, the new politics of events are squarely in the public spotlight. Europe and its institutions now make headlines; they are the theme of election campaigns and fodder for passionate debate. That adversity is really the other side of the coin: the Europe of markets and trade had to contend with apathy, even mockery, over stipulations regarding the curvature of cucumbers (an indifference political scientists referred to a “permissive consensus”); the Europe of the currency, common borders, and influence abroad summons powerful forces and counter-forces, higher expectations, and deeper mistrust.

The Conundrum of German Power

Brexit has also thrown a harsh light on German power in Europe. The union is not only based on rules and treaties, but also on an internal balance of powers. Yet we are now moving from a union that was dominated by a Paris-Berlin-London triangle to one that is oriented toward Berlin alone. Even before Brexit the equilibrium between Paris and Berlin had been growing increasingly unbalanced, but until recently, Paris could use its political weight to compensate for its economic lag. As the old saying went, France used Europe as a lever to hide its weaknesses while Germany used Europe as a mantle to hide its strength. The eurocrisis signaled a dramatic shift in that dynamic. The German chancellor has become the focus of international attention since 2010; she is the key protagonist in Europe’s drama, even if she is underestimated at home.

Germany’s power is tangible in the most important political institutions – the European Parliament, the European Council, and the European Commission. The European Parliament has always been a bastion of German power; as the most populous member state, the country has the most parliamentarians (96 out of 751) and controls the Christian Democratic and Social Democratic party groups. The European Council, meanwhile, has long been dominated by France and Germany, in that order. In terms of protocol, a president outranks a chancellor – the French like to ensure that the Germans know their place. But during the eurocrisis, it became evident who really wielded power as Merkel first took the upper role in her duet with Nicolas Sarkozy (“Merkozy”) and then encountered dwindling resistance from a hesitant François Hollande. Finally, the commission took a decisive turn in 2014, when Juncker took office as president. Commissioners used to have a French, a British, and a German adviser to maintain connections to all three major capitals; now, with 31 Germans (among whom are five chefs de cabinet), 21 French, and 18 British, there was a clear tilt toward Berlin.

Germany’s moment has come, and that carries significant risks for the country and for the union. Some of these risks have been acknowledged; others have been underestimated.

The burden of German history, for one thing, has been acknowledged. Even seventy years after Hitler, foreign caricaturists and political opponents instrumentalize the shadow of Germany’s past. On the other hand, Berlin underestimates how often its European policies are perceived as naked self-interest, even if they weren’t intended to be. The German finance minister in particular fell into this trap during the eurocrisis. “Dr Schäuble” (as his Greek counterpart Yanis Varoufakis always called him) argued from a moral high ground, while the outside world perceived him as a merciless, political power player who wanted to eject the Greeks from the eurozone. The refugee crisis has spurred a similar trend. Germany’s Willkommenskultur, or welcome culture, might have been a noble sentiment, but in Paris and elsewhere it was observed that Germany also has a rapidly aging population and a dwindling birthrate – and thus a use for the well-educated Syrian middle class. That makes the choice no less moral, but it has made the European debate more difficult. It is important that this “hegemonic self-righteousness” (Wolfgang Streeck) is also discussed within Germany.

Nevertheless, German power is not omnipotent. Germany is not a hegemon but rather a semi-hegemon. Even Merkel has often run up against barriers that date back to the times of Bismarck: Germany is too strong to be forced aside but not strong enough to get its way all the time. The Germans are themselves not always aware of this fact. During the eurozone’s darkest days, many Germans had the distinct feeling that they were being left to grapple with the crisis on their own. That was never the case. As the president of the European Council reminded a Berlin audience in 2012: “One quarter from the German purse implies that three quarters come from the purses of other euro countries!”

There is also a further reason why Germany cannot do the work alone, and certainly not without France. German and French attitudes toward certain political concepts are fundamentally different. Their misunderstandings shape European politics. Take the concept of rules as an example. In Germany, rules stand for justice, order, and honesty. In France, they stand for limitation and lack of freedom. In the European context, this has led to mutual mistrust. Paris constantly requests more flexibility, for other countries or for itself (to exceed the debt limit, for example); in Berlin that is perceived as opportunism and a breach of trust. Conversely, the Germans, who see themselves as applying the rules strictly but fairly, often find themselves accused of rigidity, stubbornness, and even of playing power games because they prescribe solutions to the whole without understanding individual needs.

Eventful Times Ahead

Events are the counterpoint to rules, and this is where France excels. In France, an event, even a dramatic one, is a sign of life and renewal; for a French political leader à la Sarkozy, a crisis offers the opportunity to show his or her mettle. In Germany, on the other hand, crises undermine order – they are destabilizing and dangerous. The German public values heads of government who can absorb shocks and still navigate the country through storms, like Chancellor Merkel.

Now the country that prefers to bind itself and its partners with rules will have to take the lead in the new crisis – driving a politics of events. And it will be one of Germany’s most difficult tasks ahead. The paradox is that Paris has worked steadily over the past sixty years to prepare the European club of member states for a role as geopolitical actor, but is no longer in a position to lead now that this decisive historical moment has come. Germany has to provide the necessary leadership – it can “no longer practice a well-tended culture of waiting and seeing” (Münkler), but must be ready to make swift decisions and turn improvisation into an art form. The burden of Germany’s past makes this a tall order indeed.

The year 2017 will be a decisive one. Voters in France, Germany, and the Netherlands will go to the polls, and the results will bear consequences for all of Europe. National politicians in these three key countries will have to convince voters that the EU is strong and capable of acting together. Only then will Europe have a real chance to shape its future.

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Illustration: Dominik Herrmann

Take the war in eastern Ukraine. The tenuous Minsk ceasefire poses the greatest test of will in European geopolitics since the end of the Cold War, bringing into play questions of war and peace, strategy and power. But Europe no longer thinks in these terms – our strategic language has become rusty. It is as if history, with its drama and conflicts, has become a foreign country.

There are, fortunately, signs that this is changing. Recent statements and actions show that Europe’s leaders are beginning to see the world as it is, not how they want it to be. A prime example is Angela Merkel’s work in Minsk. A few days before the February ceasefire was negotiated, the Chancellor explained her opposition to delivering arms to Kiev to a critical audience at the Munich Security Conference, saying: “The problem is that I cannot imagine any situation in which improved equipment for the Ukrainian army leads to President Putin being so impressed that he believes he will lose militarily. I have to put it that bluntly. Military support would lead to more victims, not to a Russian defeat.” In other words: we cannot always beat the bad guys (much as Americans might disagree), but we can, and must, try to contain them. Remember, politics is the art of the possible.

The April 2015 summit on the catastrophes in the Mediterranean was another good sign. In the wake of yet more drowned refugees, European leaders finally decided to do what Pope Francis has been requesting: establish a stronger rescue presence at sea. At the same time, they declared war on the human traffickers, with EU Council President Donald Tusk reminding the world that “Europe did not cause this tragedy.” The tone matters here: it was not the usual self-flagellation and moral superiority, but a readiness to apply resources – both financial and military – to address a crisis. It was a political response to moral distress.

All the world’s a stage, Shakespeare wrote. For decades, the European Union has struggled to get its act together as a foreign policy actor. In Brussels, Paris, London, and Berlin, think-tankers, academics and diplomats focus on subtleties, but perhaps one must first ask what being an actor means – and whether or not it is a role for which Europe is equipped, not just materially or institutionally, but in terms of philosophy and self-image.

In the great theater of politics there are four elements to consider: the Play, the Theater, the Actor, and the Audience. Let’s take a look at all four.

The Play

Many in America, Brazil, and China look on Europe with a certain disdain. They see 500 million relatively privileged people unwilling to pay for their security and living in debt-financed welfare-states as the pensionados of world history. A cheap cliché, but it sticks. Why?

By the time the Berlin Wall came down in 1989, European states had spent four decades under either American protection or Soviet occupation. Suddenly they were on their own again, ready for their big debut. A moment of joy to be sure – but of uncertainty as well. Had the ghosts of the past been laid to rest? Could we handle this new freedom?

Before we could even get to such questions, though, the “End of History” was declared. Capitalist democracies had won, and the rest of humanity would follow their path. How ironic! Precisely when Europe was waking up geopolitically, somebody declared “the show is over, you can go back to the dressing rooms!”

We wanted to believe it. After all, the “End of History” narrative fit all too well with the integration model that France, Germany, and the other European states had chosen since 1950 as they built what they hoped would be an “Eternal Peace” (at least among themselves). But history was not over, and as good as the Brussels institutions are at defusing internal conflicts, bracketing power, and depoliticizing issues, they did little to prepare member states for the world outside Europe, where nations play by other rules and answer to older passions.

The context in which these institutions operate, however, is rapidly changing. “Politics has returned to Europe, history is back,” European Council President Tusk said upon taking office late in 2014. Merkel, Hollande, and Cameron seem to agree.

The Theater

Europe’s foreign policy was designed with this illusory “End of History” in mind; it was meant to help other countries become just like us, using aid, trade, and norms. The corresponding conception of space is revealing: once the Union had opened up to eight former communist countries, Brussels started looking farther afield, with Commission President Romano Prodi speaking in 2003 of a “ring of friends” stretching from Morocco in the southwest via Egypt to the Caucasus and Ukraine in the east. This was geopolitics of the drafting compass: take a world map, put one leg in Brussels, and make a nice, wide circle, ignoring the variations among the countries it contained. This gave birth to the EU neighborhood policy. When Prodi shared his vision at the White House, George W. Bush said: “Sounds like the Roman Empire to me, Romano!”

Back then, even as decision makers in Brussels referred to a “ring of friends,” they were careful to avoid being seen as drawing a new Iron Curtain. They were in fact uneasy drawing any line on a map for fear of creating new divisions. But how could this reticence be squared with Europe’s ambition, as set out in the 1993 Maastricht Treaty, to act on the world stage? Did this not imply revisiting relations with other players and mapping out spheres of influence?

The neighborhood policy has since collapsed under the combined strains of the Arab revolts (2011) and the Ukraine war (2014). Some even blame the EU for the current conflict with Russia. This is disingenuous: it is clear who the aggressor there is. But the European Union has suffered from its apolitical stand. It was careless to oblige Ukraine in November 2013 to choose between the EU association agreement and the customs Union with Russia – on the basis of WTO trade-rules. In late May 2015 the EU leaders met with their eastern counterparts once again, in Riga. Did they learn anything in the interim?

Perhaps. A recent EU paper issued by High Representative for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy Federica Mogherini and the Commission admits, with an unusual degree of candor, that the neighborhood policy “has not always been able to offer adequate responses to recent developments.” For diplomats, this is tough talk. Four shifts point to an increase in political realism. First, the paper touches on “differentiation” and “flexibility”. In other words: stop putting countries from Egypt to Armenia in one basket, and learn to react to changing circumstances. Second, look at the “neighbors of the neighbors,” meaning do not design a Ukraine policy as if Russia did not exist, nor an Egypt policy that fails to consider Saudi Arabia and Iran. Third, it highlights “stability” and “security” as goals alongside democracy and human rights. This is no doubt a lesson from Libya, where the West chased away a dictator only to get anarchy and a refugee crisis in his place. Fourth, the word “interests” appears much more frequently. “European interests” was long a taboo term. EU politics was, after all, about overcoming national interests; surely we did not want to repeat the same mistakes on a supranational level. That taboo had a purpose when the Union was created. Today, focusing on Europe’s shared interests is a sign of maturity.

A weak spot in the Union’s self-image remains, though: we are still unable to agree on a border. We lack the force to say that one day the European Union will end here – that these countries should be in, but these countries should not. Instead we cultivate ambiguity. Diplomatic hypocrisy can be an asset: it keeps options open without offending anybody. But this flexibility comes at a cost, a cost that has recently increased. Externally, territorial clarification could help defuse tensions with Moscow. Domestically, it could boost the European public’s weak sense of belonging together – after all, how can you feel at home when the front door does not lock?

The Player

For a long time, our European actor felt little need to act at all, instead setting an example by simply being there. Those days are over. Europe now knows it must deal with actual events, occupy its space, and win over its audience. But how do you act when you are a Union?

Again, this is a matter of self-image. Take the European desire to “speak with one voice.” This definitely requires a strong center. But it does not imply that Brussels should speak while Paris, London, and Berlin shut up. The Union is not a federal state; it will remain a club of states. Weakening these states would be the quickest route to Europe’s global irrelevance. So the Union’s task instead is to harness its members’ voices and get them to sing in the same key. (It must be added that, contrary to what both federalists and eurosceptics are determined to repeat as often as possible, one dissonant note does not signal the end of a choir!)

Foreign policy means and manpower are mainly in the hands of member states, whether that means diplomats, armies, intelligence services, or budgets. Add the EU diplomats and budget on top of that and on paper we have the world’s second largest army, best-staffed diplomatic corps, and largest development aid budget. This is why the biggest handicap is not a lack of means in Brussels, but rather member states’ hesitation to conceive and use their own means as part of a greater whole. This requires no treaty change; it is a matter of mind-set. Rather than daydreaming about a European army, it is more useful to get existing armies marching in the same direction. The bigger member states must learn to share power rather than using the EU as a toolbox for their own actions, while the smaller states must back up their desire to participate in global debates with a readiness to shoulder costs and risks.

Energy, migration, defense spending – domestic and foreign affairs are harder to separate than ever. It is one reason why the EU’s 28 presidents and prime ministers are becoming more active, meeting frequently in the European Council with the Commission President and the High Representative present. Their summits provide the European Union with a kind of collective chief executive, but one characterized more by a round table than an Oval Office. On the plus side, in the European Council the power to allocate means (both national and EU) meets the capacity to set the Union’s direction; on the downside, the body is crisis-driven, lacking time, continuity, and coherence. It needs a stronger link to joint intelligence, which the EU diplomatic service should be able to provide.

The Public

A player’s global power rests not only on economic clout, military strength, and diplomatic prestige – but also on the support of the public which is just as important. The days of closed-door cabinet diplomacy are over; foreign affairs now occupy headlines. In democracies, the public has the power to boo a performance, complicating the job of leaders. But the reverse is also true: the public’s support can be an incomparable source of power. Think of the presidents of Russia, America, and China, who (sometimes ruthlessly) communicate the feeling that a whole nation is standing behind them.

This is the most difficult part of the job for European leaders. They must confront their own electorates on vital international issues. These messages will not win any votes, but how can politicians who fear their own voters hope to scare Putin? The worst mistake an actor can make is underestimating the public.

Whether Portuguese, Finnish, Irish, French, Romanian, or British, Europeans know well that there is always a second act. They will reward actors who prepare for it and deal with the world – the world as it is.

Read the complete article in the Berlin Policy Journal App – July/August 2015 issue.

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