Preventing war has been the noble obsession of the EU and its predecessor institutions from the beginning, since the European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC) was launched in 1952. Its members were Germany, France, Italy, Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxembourg. The essence of the ECSC was its supranational character. By vesting the ECSC with substantial authority over the coal and steel industries of its member states, the founders hoped to bind those states’ economic interests together and thus foreclose the possibility of yet another war arising out of national rivalries, especially between France and Germany. The ECSC was also an elitist project. The general citizenry was not consulted.
The ECSC was supported and fostered by the United States, which had lost hundreds of thousands of young men fighting two brutal wars on the European continent, and which, as the postwar guarantor of the free world’s cohesion, wanted to be sure that Germany and France would never go to war again. In fact, Americans were very active in pushing sometimes reluctant Europeans to support the ECSC. The United States would continue to be a significant engine promoting European integration, although the Americans, like the peoples of Europe itself, never understood exactly what it was they were supporting.
The ECSC was the first milestone on the long institutional road to the EU, which did not officially come into being until 1993. The immediate successor of the ECSC, the European Economic Community (EEC), was established in the Treaty of Rome in 1957. The treaty’s preamble begins by expressing the signatories’ determination “to lay the foundations of an ever closer union among the peoples of Europe.”1 The concept of “ever closer union” has been the primary motivating force of the EU ever since, and its careful formulation exemplifies three key characteristics of the EU: it is visionary and purposeful, but also vaguely defined.
With few exceptions, the most ideologically committed EU policymakers have always been visionaries. They have acted upon a vision of a Europe that would rise above the Europe of nation-states. Whether those nation-states would disappear into a European superstate, or continue to exist but be united through their common membership in a pan-European sovereign entity, the vision has always involved bringing about a radically new European order.
The vision is connected to a purpose. The EU’s objective is to establish a permanent peace and preclude the possibility of war on the European continent. Thereby, the EU aims to function as a model for – and thus help bring about – a global order of peace, justice and stability.
Beyond the desire for peace and amity, the EU’s vision and purpose are unclear. Just as the phrase “ever closer union” is vague and open-ended, the means of achieving this ever closer union and what it will look like when achieved are ill-defined, while the motives and the driving ideology remain amorphous. But this vagueness is strategic: it has served to maintain relatively constant forward movement toward realizing the vision, and has done so in a twofold way: (1) by bringing in governments and elites of diverse views and visions, while placating everyday citizens who would not accept a vision that gave a subordinate place to the nations and cultures to which they naturally rendered their primary allegiances; and (2) by preserving the EU’s room to maneuver and evolve, even while no one really knew exactly what it was becoming.
The crucial importance to the soft utopia of remaining ill-defined can hardly be overstated. European elites themselves are engaged in a perennial debate that can be summarized as: What is the EU, and what do we want it to become? To dismiss this ongoing debate as merely European navel-gazing is fundamentally to misunderstand the EU.
The basic disagreement goes roughly as follows: Is the EU essentially a customs union, a single market and a forum to enhance political cooperation among sovereign nation-states, or is it something that will ultimately subsume within itself the bulk of the sovereignty and independence of its member states, thereby prefiguring a true system of global governance? This disagreement often plays out along national lines, because of the different histories, interests and cultural values of the various EU member states. Take the three largest member states as examples: Germany, France and the United Kingdom.
In Germany, the vision of a unified Europe transcending the Europe of nation-states has always exerted a strong attraction. The Germans, admirably, have been wrestling with their nation’s history as the cradle of Nazism and the homeland of the perpetrators of the Holocaust for almost seventy years now. Patriotism has a bad name. It means something different to Germans than it does for perhaps any other nationality in the world. Even the general population of Germany – despite habitual grumbling about Brussels and a great unwillingness to be the payors of Greece and other eurozone members threatened with insolvency – is reflexively in favor of the European Union, and of giving up a significant degree of national sovereignty to the EU. In Germany, being a good person means being pro-EU, because being pro-EU is widely assumed to be synonymous with being pro-European and antinationalistic. Such a person has learned the moral lesson from Germany’s horrible past. He shares in the passionate determination that war should never again arise from German soil.
The French have a different view of the EU. For many it is a vehicle to increase French influence in Europe and the world, to minimize the American footprint in Europe, and to give outlet, in the spirit of the French Revolution, to the ideals of liberty, equality and fraternity. The French also stand to benefit from the EU in a way that is ironically reminiscent of the old balance-of-power politics of nineteenth-century Europe: the EU binds their rival Germany, and serves as an instrument for France to bend Germany to its will. Thus, whereas the French sometimes seem almost as committed to the ideal of supranationality as the Germans, French culture and history and France’s traditional rivalry with Germany militate for supranationality as a means to promote French interests and French national grandeur. In contrast, the Germans’ dedication to supranationality functions as a renunciation of any and all attachment to German national greatness.
The typical British attitude toward the EU differs greatly from that of either the French or the Germans. The English value their singularity and their national sovereignty, based partly on geographic isolation from the daily affairs of the European continent. They take pride in their history as the oldest continuous democracy in the world, and in the achievements of the British Empire. With this history coloring their perspective, the British are generally more attuned than other Europeans to the EU’s lack of democratic accountability, and they are more protective of their national sovereignty against encroachments from Brussels.
SUBORDINATING DEMOCRACY AND BENDING REALITY
In this book, we will engage in case studies that illustrate the EU’s nature as a soft utopia. We will see how, in the dogged pursuit of a more integrated Europe, EU leaders have overridden the will of the voters, rewritten history in their own image, and subordinated the merits of fundamental policy decisions to the far-off and ill-defined goal of achieving the European dream.
First, we will look at five instances of voters rejecting comprehensive new EU agreements in referenda. The salient fact is not that the voters rejected these agreements, but how the EU responded to these votes. In three cases, in Ireland twice and in Denmark once, the EU refused to accept the will of the voters. Instead, it forced second votes and applied massive pressure so that the voters would “get it right” and vote yes. In the other two instances, the failed referenda in the Netherlands and France in 2005 on whether to accept the “European Constitution,” the EU did not demand second referenda – because French and Dutch leaders had made unequivocal political commitments to accept the results, and because these votes occurred in larger and older member states with more weight in the EU. What the EU did to overcome the will of Dutch and French voters was simply make some cosmetic changes to the rejected agreement, rename it and get it passed as a treaty, which unlike a “European Constitution” did not require the approval of voters in most member states.
Second, the debate about whether to include a reference to Europe’s Christian heritage in the EU constitution grew out of an attempt to rewrite Europe’s history in the secularist image of the majority