Appearances can be deceptive. Earlier this month, French president Emmanuel Macron was all smiles as he pumped US president Donald Trump’s hand for seventeen long seconds at the reopening of the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris, much of which was destroyed by fire in April 2019. The remarkable results of the reconstruction project are a tribute to French 21st-century craftsmanship, and they provided the French president with a stage upon which to celebrate this national achievement. A few days earlier, Macron had brought Trump and Volodymyr Zelensky together for what the Ukrainian president said was a “good and productive” twenty-minute chat. (He could say little else under the circumstances: Ukraine remains dependent on the US for the weaponry it needs to fight Russia, and the country is now anxiously waiting to see what kind of conflict-ending agreement Trump proposes with Vladimir Putin.)
However, even amid all this glad-handing and statesmanship and celebration, there were signs of the problems currently afflicting Europe and the shifting politics within and around the European Union. European Commission president, Ursula von der Leyen, issued a laconic note informing France that she would be unable to join other world leaders and dignitaries attending the Notre Dame celebrations. It seems likely that she was either disinvited or realised that she would receive a frosty welcome. At a meeting in the Uruguayan capital of Montevideo, she had just signed off on the Mercosur deal between the EU and Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay, and Uruguay to establish the free movement of goods, capital services, and people among its signatories. Von der Leyen’s signature—which has yet to be ratified by the EU’s member states—has infuriated Macron, who believes it undercut Europe’s farmers and violated France’s “agricultural sovereignty.” The deal is likely to be rejected by France, Poland, Austria, and (probably) Italy.
“Sovereignty” is not a word popular in Brussels at the moment. It vitiates the EU’s larger purpose, which is to grow its own economic and political power and form an “ever-closer union”—presumably, some kind of federal state on the German model. Despite the devolution of comparatively broad discretionary powers to member states under such an arrangement, the federal centre would be able to set continental economic and defence policy, including the right to intervene when the member states step out of line. The EU has form on this kind of meddling. Twice it has imposed prime ministers on Italy when the elected ones were held to have failed, and it forced Denmark and Ireland to vote again after referenda in those countries rejected ratification of European treaties.
After the Brexit result in 2016, Macron brought pressure to bear on Britain, saying, “I fight every day, and will continue to do so, for this united, sovereign and democratic Europe, whose strength will make our continent strong.” But it is Macron who now finds himself dramatically weakened. A coalition on the Left and Marine Le Pen’s Rassemblement National on the Right have narrowed his ability to act by passing a motion of no confidence in his premier, Michel Barnier. After a few days, Macron appointed another prime minister (the third this year): 73-year-old François Bayrou, leader of the centrist MoDem party and a long-time supporter of Macron.
The weakening of France has been accompanied by the weakening of Germany, which has long helped France set the agenda and advance the case for “ever-closer union.” As British commentator John Lichfield has observed:
At this critical moment, domestic politics in both France and Germany have disintegrated. The minority government to which President Emmanuel Macron was obliged to surrender power in the summer collapsed on December 4 when it lost a confidence vote on the issue of its proposed budget. Addressing the French nation shortly afterwards, Macron pledged to serve until the end of his presidential term in 2027. New parliamentary elections are possible next summer.
Chancellor Olaf Scholz’s left–green–liberal coalition has imploded. The liberal Free Democratic Party left government in November after Scholz fired its leader, Christian Lindner, as finance minister. If, as expected, Scholz loses a confidence vote on December 16, federal elections will be held on February 23, months ahead of schedule.
During a speech last month, Christine Lagarde, President of the [European Central Bank], said the bloc faces “difficult choices between adjusting our social model, delivering on our climate ambitions and playing a leading role in global affairs”. As productivity slumps and sovereign debt bulges, can it juggle all three while spending $500 billion on joint defence?
Mass immigration remains a thorn in the side of the main political parties, who are held responsible for rising numbers of new arrivals. In the subtitle of his 2009 book Reflections on the Revolution in Europe, American conservative journalist Christopher Caldwell asked, “Can Europe remain the same with different people in it?” The answer, he concluded, is “no.”
Europe became a destination for immigration as a result of consensus among its political and commercial elites ... [who] made certain assumptions: Immigrants would be few in number. Since they were coming to fill short-term gaps in the labour force, most would stay in Europe only temporarily. … No one assumed they would ever be eligible for welfare. That they would retain the habits and culture of southern villages, clans, marketplaces, and mosques was a thought too bizarre to entertain.
None of those assumptions has turned out to be correct. Immigrants were welcomed by businesses and governments because most were willing to work for a low wage. But their numbers grew rapidly, they became eligible for welfare and other services, and many retained the lifestyles and customs of the countries from which they came, making integration more difficult. Though generally accepted at first, their effect on medical and social services lengthened queues, particularly for the low-paid, while an ensuing housing shortage pushed rents and prices relentlessly upwards. None of this was the fault of the immigrants, of course. But nor was it the fault of Europe’s indigenous citizens, whose opinion on the changes their countries were undergoing was never sought. Complaints were rejected as evidence of racism, usually by those who did not live in the areas and cities where immigrants clustered. In response to the populist reaction, governments across Europe are now making extravagant promises to cut immigration, but trust in governing elites and institutions has already sustained a great deal of damage. Consequently, the New Right has benefited at the ballot box.
After more than two years in office, Giorgia Meloni’s Fratelli d’Italia remains the most popular party in Italy, six points ahead of the centre-left Partito Democratico in a poll of voting intentions taken in early December. In France, Marine Le Pen—founder of the Rassemblement National and its leader in the national assembly—is now strong favourite to be the next French president, in spite (or perhaps because of) a threat to jail her for alleged misuse of EU funds. The next presidential election is still two and a half years away, but it is hard to see Macron and his Renaissance Party mounting a comeback now. In Germany, meanwhile, Alice Weidel, co-president of the Alternativ für Deutschland, has sought to reposition her party on the mainstream Right, declaring that, “Voters clearly want a coalition of conservatives and the AfD.” The centre-right CDU-CSU currently holds a comfortable lead over Germany’s other parties, but the AfD is second, and it’s possible that disaffected Social Democratic and Green voters may lend the New Right their support.
Across this already troubled continent, fear of an aggressive and imperialist Russia haunts its states’ largely peaceful postwar existence. For now, Putin appears to be winning his attritional war in Ukraine, and he is doing whatever else he can to make trouble for the West’s democracies. As Politico reported:
“We have been observing aggressive actions by the Russian intelligence services for some time now,” said Thomas Haldenwang, who recently stepped down as president of Germany’s federal domestic intelligence agency. “Russia is using the entire toolbox, from influencing political discussions to cyber attacks on critical infrastructure to sabotage on a significant scale.”
The Kremlin has long carried out so-called hybrid warfare against European countries, including disinformation campaigns, hacking, cyberattacks and election interference to destabilize European societies and, in the past few years, push them to decrease military support for Ukraine.
Last week, Germany said that two undersea telecommunications cables in the Baltic Sea were severed as a result of sabotage.
“We have to conclude, without knowing exactly who did it, that it is a hybrid action and we also have to assume—without knowing it—that it is sabotage,” said German Defense Minister Boris Pistorius.
So far, this kind of interference has stopped short of outright military aggression, but Russia’s escalating campaigns of hybrid warfare could be highly damaging even so.
Liberal American commentator Noah Smith warns that drones are replacing fighter jets as effective tools of aerial war, and that China is now equal to the US in drone manufacture and pulling ahead in the production of batteries that power them. He adds:
[The UN’s Industrial Development Organisation] projects that China will account for 45% of all global manufacturing, singlehandedly matching or outmatching the U.S. and all of its allies. This is a level of manufacturing dominance by a single country seen only twice before in world history—by the UK at the start of the Industrial Revolution, and by the U.S. just after World War 2. It means that in an extended war of production, there is no guarantee that the entire world united could defeat China alone.
That is a very dangerous and unstable situation. If it comes to pass, it will mean that China is basically free to start any conventional conflict it wants, without worrying that it will be ganged up on—because there will be no possible gang big enough to beat it. The only thing they’ll have to fear is nuclear weapons.
In a recent essay for Quillette, Joel Kotkin argues that Europe is struggling to awaken from its long peaceful doze under the protection of the United States and marshal responsibility for its own defence:
European leaders have grown comfortable within a multilateral system that allowed them to hide behind American skirts while pursuing their own economic, environmental, and social-engineering goals. The US spends roughly 3.5 percent of GDP on defence and has a military budget roughly six times the size of the combined militaries of the UK, France, and Germany.
That approach is finished. Despite some recent improvements, most European governments fail to spend even two percent of GDP on defence and have, until now, depended largely on the US to keep the Ukrainian cause alive. Once again, they are asking the US to protect their critical shipping lanes in the Red Sea, and they seem powerless to stop their own internet cables from being cut. It is likely that Trump will tell them that, if they don’t step up, they will be left on their own.
On our own. For a Europe in its present disarray, a call to “pull itself together” is likely to fall on ears deafened by political chaos, and by unceasing demands for more money to be spent on higher wages, more funds for health and social services, and a greatly increased campaign against global warming. The western European states have become used to free rides on security, concerned to slim a defence budget close to starvation in order to keep electoral promises to voters—few of whom have, at least until now, demanded better resourced defence. If On Our Own is to be our fate, we had better get used to living with hard decisions, and to politicians taking them.