4.2.1 Liberal intergovernmentalism

Seeking to shed light on the evolution of European integration, Moravcsik (1998) developed the theory of LI. In his book The Choice for Europe, Moravcsik argued that states are rational and unitary actors seeking to maximize their interests in a context of economic interdependence. To this end, with each revision of the treaties, member states have agreed to share or to pool national sovereignty to solve domestic or transnational problems. In other words, LI contends that European integration reflects the will of member states (Moravcsik 1998: 3). It is the result of their rational choices and preferences, in response to structural incentives in the global economy (Moravcsik 1998: 3; Alter 1998). Moravcsik conceptualized a model of preference formation in three steps (1998: 24):

The creation of supranational institutions then facilitates cooperation to secure member states’ economic interests. From this perspective, although sovereignty is pooled or shared, states remain the masters of the integration process and retain their sovereignty. As Milward (1984) argued, EU integration did not weaken, but instead strengthened nation states. Yet, this shift from nation states to member states is not without implications for sovereignty (Bickerton 2012). This legal status is associated with a set of rights, obligations, and guaranties of member states vis-à-vis each other and the EU (see Box 4.1). It also implies a complex process of transformation; that member states need to adapt within the broader process of EU integration, defined by scholars as Europeanization (see Box 4.2).

4.2.2p. 88 Postfunctionalism

The liberal intergovernmental account of EU integration shows a European project that has been driven mostly by pro-European political governmental elites bargaining at the EU level to maximize their preferences. Although criticized for its focus on large, ‘history-making’ decisions (such as the revision of the treaties), LI has long remained one of the most attractive theories for scholars seeking to understand precisely why member states engage in European integration. The 1990s, for example, marked the ‘end of the permissive consensus’ (Hooghe and Marks 2009), when it became clear that pursuing EU integration for the people but without the people was no longer possible (Schmidt 2006). While there had been widespread approval for European integration among p. 89↵EU citizens for a long time, as Patel argued, integration, as a process, was not deeply rooted in society. In his words, ‘peoples supported the integration project as long as it remained abstract and had little impact on their lives’ (Patel 2020: 138).

However, as the process of integration deepened—through the SEA, which represented the first major revision of the treaties in 1986, and the Maastricht Treaty, which took integration more explicitly into areas of core state powers such as money, security, and foreign affairs—it began to encounter stronger opposition from both member state governments and their citizens. Not only did member states’ governments bargain hard to prevent the European project going beyond what they felt was needed to realize their economic interests, for the first time, governments themselves faced mounting popular dissent and contestation. The Danes for example, rejected the Maastricht Treaty in a referendum on 2 June 1992 (with 50.7 per cent of the 83 per cent record turnout voting against it). In May 1993, after obtaining some opt-outs in key policy areas such as the EMU and Justice and Home Affairs (JHA), 56.7 per cent of Danes voted in favour. In France, the Maastricht Treaty was also submitted to referendum; it obtained a little ‘oui’ (50.8 per cent) in September 1992. In Germany too, where citizens have historically been supportive of European integration, there has been increasing reluctance since the euro replaced the deutschmark, a former symbol of economic power and sovereignty (Beichelt 2013: 88). The Maastricht Treaty was only the beginning of an era of increased contestation.

In 2005, citizens rejected the Constitutional Treaty in France and in the Netherlands. While French citizens were opposed to further liberalization, in the Netherlands, voters were opposed to new waves of enlargement and the accession of Turkey. Later, the Lisbon Treaty was rejected by Ireland in June 2008 by 53.6 per cent of the 50 per cent of Irish voters who turned out. Observers have argued that the vote did not express a rejection of the idea of Europe, but rather the refusal of a treaty that was difficult to understand and had been drafted by European elites disconnected from citizens, as reported by The Guardian (13 December 2008—see Quinlan 2012). The Lisbon Treaty was finally approved in October 2009, after some adaptations made it acceptable to member states.

While support for European integration was decreasing in some areas in the West, it remained relatively high (at least initially) in Southern Europe and in CEE countries. But even in CEE, where prior to accession support was above 75 per cent, it has considerably decreased over time. There are several reasons for this. Joining the EU was only possible after completing a series of difficult, even painful economic and social reforms (see Box 9.2). Some have enjoyed the advantages of EU integration, but many others have felt like ‘second-class citizens’. The accession negotiations also caused dissatisfaction and led to the emergence of eurosceptic parties. In 2001, the highest level of support for integration was in Romania (83 per cent) followed by Bulgaria (80 per cent), both of whom were still candidate countries, while in Estonia, three years before accession, support had decreased to 38 per cent from the 79 per cent reported in 1993. The same downward trends were observed in Poland (from 80 per cent in 1993 to 54 per cent in 2001) and in the Czech Republic (from 84 per cent to 54 per cent).

Attitudes towards the EU among its citizens can fluctuate, often in relatively short spans of time (see Table 4.2). Debomy (2016) identified five periods since 1985, a p. 90↵p. 91↵period of ‘Eurofavour’—occurring alongside renewed efforts to complete the single market—was replaced by a period of declining support beginning in 1991 (when 71 per cent of EU citizens reported that their country’s membership of the EU was ‘a good thing’) and running to 1997 (when the same metric reported just 46 per cent). This period coincided with the political difficulties surrounding the Maastricht Treaty and the EU’s inability to respond coherently to conflict in the Balkans. The period 1997–2007 was one of ‘ups and downs’ although—by the end of that period—58 per cent of EU citizens evaluated their country’s membership as a ‘good thing’ (lower than the peak recorded in 1991 but a marked improvement on 1997). The period 2007–12 was once again characterized by declining support (hitting a low of 47 per cent in May 2011) in the context of the global financial and Eurozone crises. This was followed by a steady climb, with the ‘membership is a good thing’ measure hovering around 60 per cent from 2018–20 (see European Parliament 2019a: 11). The most recent (at the time of writing) measure was 65 per cent, recorded in summer 2020 (Eurobarometer 94.2).

The EU-wide average figure masks national differences, of course (Table 4.2). Some swings in national opinion can be correlated with significant political events. For example, declining support in Greece, and declining (then rising) support in Ireland, Portugal, and Spain can be largely attributed to the Eurozone crisis and the impact of subsequent EU policy decisions on those countries. Public attitudes in Italy have been trending consistently—and sharply—downwards for several decades. Interestingly, there are countries where eurosceptic parties are electorally successful, form governments, and bring such agendas to the European Council and Council (of ministers) and yet their populations broadly see EU membership as ‘good’—for example, Hungary and Poland (see section 6.4). This is a reminder that the interaction between public attitudes, on the one hand, and political leaders and parties, on the other, is complex and that eurosceptic sentiment among the people often has to be activated and mobilized by political leaders. Similarly, populations that are broadly supportive of EU membership can elect governments that challenge the EU’s values and seek to halt further integration.

The post-Maastricht era—and the end of the ‘permissive consensus’—pushed scholars to reconsider the theoretical lenses through which they analysed EU integration. As Hooghe and Marks (2009: 5) have argued, in the current state of EU integration ‘national leaders must look over their shoulder when negotiating European issues’. Against this backdrop, postfunctionalism—a new theory of EU integration that emerged in 2008—contends that domestic politics constrain governments and their preferences. It cannot now be taken for granted that elites are still able to shape European integration in complete isolation from domestic politics (Rauh 2021); political actors need to consider a wider context of increased politicization, the polarization of views, and rising euroscepticism (see Box 4.3).

p. 92↵Contrary to LI, which emphasizes economic interests, postfunctionalism ‘conceives European integration as a conflictual process arising from incompatible belief systems’ (Hooghe and Marks 2019: 1117). Issues related to values and identity not only determine attitudes towards EU integration, they are also at the core of the bargaining of treaties themselves, with religion remaining at the centre of many important political debates in the EU (Foret 2015). In the early 2000s, for example, during the drafting of the Constitutional Treaty for Europe, several social and political actors argued in favour of including a reference to Europe’s Christian heritage as well as one to God. The governments of Italy, Spain, Poland, Slovakia, Malta, Austria, the Netherlands, Portugal, and Ireland were in favour of these references to Christianity (EUObserver 2003), while the French government was fiercely opposed to any religious interference in the Constitutional Treaty. The Treaty of Lisbon does not contain any such provisions.

4.2.3 Visions for EU integration

Whether rooted in political economy (LI) or in belief systems (postfunctionalism), preferences determine visions for Europe. From its inception to today’s Union, some have envisioned the creation of a European federation, while others have sought a more intergovernmental union, a Europe of states. While federalists are in favour of the development of a political project beyond the state, proponents of intergovernmental cooperation prefer a confederation of sovereign states. In some sense, p. 93↵it is easier to discuss what the EU is not rather than what it is. The EU shares some of the characteristics of a federation—defined as an institutional arrangement in which ‘(a) public authority is divided between state governments and a central government, (b) each level of government has some issues on which it makes final decisions, and (c) a high federal court adjudicates disputes concerning federalism’ (Kelemen 2003: 185). However, the EU’s own member states have remained the formal source and signatories of European treaties, standing thus as the final authority.

The opposition between these two visions for Europe still dominates current debates. As the Prime Minister of the Netherlands, Mark Rutte declared, the ‘ever closer union’ principle behind the EU’s integration process is ‘buried and gone’ (EURACTIV 2017). While, in the midst of the Eurozone crisis, Angela Merkel proposed a federalist leap to create a political union (EURACTIV 2012), the ideal of a ‘Europe of nations’ was proclaimed by several members of the European Conservative and Reformists political group in the EP, in their Prague Declaration in 2013, in which they insisted on the importance of ‘the sovereign integrity of the nation state’.

The EU has always oscillated between ‘more Europe’ (federation) and ‘less Europe’ (cooperation). Moving forward together at the same speed has therefore never been easy, particularly as the political endpoint of the European project has remained an open question. In the 1970s, the German Chancellor Willy Brandt proposed a graduation in integration, including monetary issues; the 1975 report by Belgian Prime Minister Leo Tindemans highlighted that member states should not all complete the integration steps simultaneously (Patel 2020: 45).

Since the early 1990s, flexibility has been invoked more often as a new mechanism of integration itself. In 1994, for example, German Christian Democratic politicians proposed a model of deeper integration called Kerneuropa (‘core Europe’) bringing together France, Germany, and the Benelux countries. However, the proposal of a ‘multi-speed Europe’, or ‘variable geometry’, was not well received, as it excluded other countries—in particular Italy, a founding member state. In the same vein, the French Prime Minister Balladur proposed ‘a Europe of concentric circles’, a model of a polycentric EU in which some member states would be part of the inner circle in some policy areas and part of other circles in others. In the UK, Prime Minister John Major was also in favour of this ‘pick and choose’ or ‘Europe à la carte’ (Wiener 2003). Some 70 years after the establishment of the first European Community—itself founded as a six-member vanguard dissatisfied with the level of ambition in the then 14-member Council of Europe—moving forward together is obviously more challenging in an EU of 27 than in one with only six member states (Figure 4.2).

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Figure 4.2 Chronology of enlargement (and contraction)

In part to accommodate the diversity of visions and preferences, the Treaty of Amsterdam institutionalized the possibility of enhanced cooperation, allowing a group of states to move ahead in the integration process, leaving it open for others to join at a later stage (see Box 5.6). However, differentiated integration was already a key feature of the EU before the Treaty of Amsterdam (see Schimmelfennig and Winzen 2019). It can be contrasted with the idea that all EU p. 94↵member states—and no outsiders—proceed with integration in a uniform way, in the same policy areas and at the same time. The Schengen area and the Eurozone are key illustrations of differentiated integration—the Eurozone contains 19 EU member states, while the Schengen area contains 22 EU member states alongside four non-EU member states.

p. 95↵It is the very aspects of member state diversity highlighted in this chapter that makes differentiation an increasingly talked about model of integration. It is difficult to secure unanimity among 27 states that vary so much in terms of their size, wealth, and economic structure (as liberal and new intergovernmentalists emphasize), and underlying preferences about political integration and the strength of national identity vs. European identity (as postfunctionalists emphasize)—not to mention the vagaries of political ideology that can colour member state governments in different ways at different points in time. Differences in both wealth/economic power and identity have been found to drive national preferences for differentiation (Winzen 2016; Winzen and Schimmelfennig 2016).

The size of the group of member states pursuing differentiation is important, with bigger groups generally having more negotiating clout. So is the extent to which the proposed differentiation will create difficulties—political or policy-based—for states that do not participate (the fewer the difficulties, the more likely non-participating states will allow it). Member states that seek to further the process of European integration can find themselves struggling to secure the support of those more eurosceptic states, especially in a situation where unanimity is required to start a new differentiated project. In such situations, the member states who wish to move ahead can either grant formal opt-outs to the reluctant ones (e.g. the opt-outs granted on EMU to Denmark and the UK in the Maastricht Treaty), or they can agree separate treaties outside of the EU framework, thus sidelining the reluctant states (e.g. the original Schengen agreement and, more recently, the Fiscal Compact on economic governance—see section 7.5). Differentiation is also constrained by the formal institutional rules of the EU, which involve majority, sometimes unanimous, voting, and by the culture of European integration, which is one of uniformity by default, not differentiation.

The UK’s withdrawal from the EU (‘Brexit’—see section 10.2) has raised new questions and avenues for research about the relationship of third-party countries to the EU’s institutions and policies, and the potential for new developments in differentiated integration and even dis-integration (see Gänzle et al. 2020).

4.3.1 Coalitions and cleavages of member states

Coalitions among member states are not fixed. In both the Council (of ministers) and in the European Council, they shift from issue to issue, depending on the size of the country, geographical position, ideological preference, or length of membership.

Historically, Germany and France have shaped much of the integration process (the Franco-German relationship—see Box 4.4). For many years, the power of the two largest member states, France and Germany, rested on a ‘fine balance’ between the political prestige of France after World War II and the growing economic power of West Germany since the 1970s (Cole 2001: 13). In recent years however, in particular in the context of the Eurozone crisis, many have seen a hegemonic role for Germany and an asymmetry of power between Germany and France (Schild 2020: 1072). In fact, the Franco-German relationship is important for another reason: they often start with divergent views on different subjects: for example, France tends to be more protectionist, less aligned with the US, and more intergovernmental in its vision of the EU, while Germany tends to be more in favour of free trade, more aligned with the US, and more federal in its vision for the EU. Frequently, when one p. 97↵of the pair has had a centre-left government, the other has had a centre-right one. Yet they both typically remain committed to finding workable compromises—and such compromises are usually a good starting point for the rest of the EU.

Besides economic and political power, size (in terms of population) matters—it determines representation in EU institutions, for example the number of members of the EP or the weight in the Council to reach QMV (Table 4.3). After the EU’s 2004–7 enlargements (taking in ten CEE states plus Cyprus and Malta), the number p. 98↵of small states increased, bringing challenges: on the one hand, small member states feared that the most populated ones would dominate the decision-making process; on the other, the larger member states were concerned that their power would be reduced. The size of the country, however, does not automatically determine the patterns of coalitions in either the Council or the European Council, with the exception of issues related to institutional or quasi-constitutional matters discussed during the revision of the treaties. The size of the Commission is one example. The Treaty of Lisbon stipulated that the number of commissioners should represent two-thirds of member states, unless the European Council decided otherwise (which it subsequently did—see section 3.2.2). Small member states (but not only them) have always been keen to be represented equally in the college, although commissioners do not represent national interests. Because of potential divisions, the European Council in 2009 decided that the number of commissioners would remain equivalent to the number of member states, a decision that satisfied small member states, as well as others.

Some coalitions are based on geographical lines. Certain member states tend to vote together. Often, countries that are in close geographic proximity share similar interests and objectives, such as the Mediterranean states that initiated the Euro–Med Barcelona Process in 1995—a result of the Spanish rotating presidency of the Council. The Barcelona Process involved EU member states trying to establish more coherent relations with states close to the EU’s external borders, in North Africa and the Middle East—a process that eventually saw the establishment of the ‘Union for the Mediterranean’. Another example is the Danube Strategy, which was promoted by all the countries this river runs through and is an example of macro-regional p. 99↵cooperation within the EU. Such strategies—and the networks and partnerships that underpin them—are a reminder that the EU is evolving as a complex system of multi-level governance (see Sielker 2016; Gänzle 2017).

Northern member states are more likely to vote together than with Southern member states and vice versa (Mattila 2008). Finland and Italy are therefore often in opposite coalitions, while Italy and Greece tend to vote alike. In 74 per cent of cases, when Denmark decided to vote ‘no’ or to abstain from voting, Sweden also challenged the same proposal (Mattila 2008: 32). Similarly, when Sweden contested a proposal, Denmark followed suit. Portugal is often a coalition-builder among the Southern member states, in particular with Italy and Spain. Greece often joins forces with both Italy and Portugal (Mattila 2008). The Benelux countries (see Box 4.7) also tend to vote similarly, and are more economically integrated among themselves than with other member states.

While there are geographical patterns, geography alone leaves much to be explained. What brings these member states together is rather a shared political culture and similar preferences and interests. Depending on the issue at stake, right/left-wing political cleavages explain more than geography alone. The left/right cleavage plays a key role in debates about the market. While some countries are more protectionist, others are more prone to liberalization. It has been argued that the UK’s accession in the 1970s greatly shaped the liberalization trend in EU integration, despite the reluctance of France and Southern member states. This trend was strengthened by the Eastern enlargement, as several new member states such as the Czech Republic, Poland, and Slovakia—under centre-right governments—became strong supporters of economic liberalization (Copsey and Haughton 2009; Lequesne 2014: 269). As a promoter of free trade within the EU, Sweden has positioned itself several times against protectionism and subsidies that are often supported by France, Southern European, and CEE member states. At the same time, Sweden shares with other Nordic countries (see Box 4.7) a belief in a comprehensive welfare system and sustainable development (Michalski 2013: 182).

While national elections can change the policy stances of member states, national models of capitalism and economy often transcend oscillations between centre-left and centre-right governments (see Johnston and Regan 2018). Those structures are important in shaping how member states approach European integration, and asymmetries of power between groups of member states with different types of economy are crucial in determining many EU policies. For example, Germany, along with several smaller Northwestern member states, has an export-led-growth model grounded in a strong manufacturing base. Ireland and the Visegrad countries (see Box 4.7) also have export-driven economies, albeit they rely more on foreign direct investment than home-grown firms (Bohle 2018). Other member states, however, possess economic models oriented towards domestic consumption and non-tradable services. When member states with fundamentally different types of capitalist economies make policy collectively, questions arise as to which ‘type’ of economy—and therefore which group of states—is being privileged in that process. Many of the policies developed in response to the Eurozone crisis, for example, p. 100↵were grounded in economic ideas more aligned with the German model, which caused economic pain in other states and raised questions about democracy and legitimacy in the EU (Kriesi 2018).

The accession of 13 member states since 2004 at first only slightly altered coalition patterns in the Council, as the ‘not so new anymore’ member states rarely vote en bloc (Zaun 2020: 1), but rather join existing coalitions. In recent years, however, Eastern European member states in general and the Visegrad group (V4) in particular (see Box 4.7) have become more assertive in blocking decisions in sensitive policy areas (see Box 4.5). This also shows how important belief systems are (as emphasized by postfunctionalists) in understanding member states’ positions in EU decision-making, in particular on issues related to migration.

4.3.2 The rotating presidency of the Council (of ministers)

Each member state holds the presidency of the Council for six months. In 2016, this order was established until 2030. For six months, the presidency contributes to the decision-making process in various roles, including acting as organizer, broker, p. 101↵and even leader (Schout and Vanhoonacker 2006; Quaglia and Moxon-Browne 2006: 349). Since Lisbon, groups of three successive presidencies—called the trio (Dagnis-Jensen and Nedergaard 2014)—together determine the priorities of the Council on a rolling 18-month basis.

For six months, the presidency acts as an agenda-setter, putting forward a set of priorities for its mandate. The role of the presidency is sometimes overestimated (see section 3.3.1). Presidencies have no powers in their own right—they must secure the necessary support in the Council. Six months is a short period of time, when considering that the political agenda is often challenged by unexpected events and crises (e.g. Eurozone crisis, the COVID-19 pandemic). In addition, each presidency inherits the legislative dossiers of the previous one, as these take months, or years, to be adopted through the OLP. Priorities matter. Policy priorities give an indication as to the policies on which the country holding the Council presidency will seek to reach agreements with other member states and EU institutions. For example, the main aim of the German presidency at the end of 2020 was to see the (already scheduled) Multiannual Financial Framework and the (new idea for the) Next Generation EU budget agreed by the 27 member states, in order to overcome the consequences of the COVID-19 pandemic without delay. Portugal took over in January 2021 with the aim to deliver ‘a fair, green, and digital recovery’ (the motto of their presidency). The priorities of each presidency also reflect a combination of national, regional, and European interests. For example, CEE countries have put forward the importance of cohesion, enlargement, or the European Neighbourhood Policy. France has historically sought to preserve an ambitious CAP, while Nordic member states have promoted a greener European policy.

Each presidency is prepared at least two years in advance at the domestic and European level. It can be thought of as a two-level game (Coman 2020). Depending on the national traditions of consultations and modes of preference formation, each member state discusses its priorities upstream with national and European actors (in particular the members of the trio). France, for instance, holds the rotating presidency in the first half of 2022. After his 2017 election, President Macron, in a speech at the Sorbonne, announced his ambitions for the EU, calling for a refoundation, ‘a sovereign Europe, democratic, and united’. This was not only addressed to French voters. It was a wider message to EU citizens, recalling the Schuman Declaration and announcing a return to a time when France was—and could be again—a force of proposition. In March 2021, Macron’s State Secretary for EU affairs, Clément Beaune, announced that preparations had started, with specific ambitions to strengthen the EU’s sovereignty – also referred to as open strategic autonomy – vis-à-vis third-party countries, against the backdrop of tensions with China, Russia, and even with the US. The narrative put forward by the French president was that the global health crisis had revealed the member states’ vulnerability and dependence vis-à-vis non-EU countries. In his view, an ambitious programme was required, tackling crucial issues such as digital sovereignty, food safety, and defence. France’s ambition in this respect is two-fold: to strengthen the EU’s external capacity to act, and boost overall European identity within the EU. While the ideas p. 102↵announced several years before the beginning of the presidency are ambitious, their means of implementation remain to be determined.

Besides ideals, each presidency has a role to play as an organizer. This means that for six months, the rotating presidency determines, among others, the meetings allowing the adoption/conclusion of ongoing legislative files. It also organizes and chairs all the meetings of the Council formations (with the exception of the Foreign Affairs Council, chaired by the high representative—see section 3.4). To this end, each EU member state devotes considerable human resources to the preparation of its presidency. For example, from January to June 2019, the Romanian presidency organized about 2,500 meetings and events, including more than 2,000 meetings of working groups, 64 Council ministerial meetings, 190 trilogues—three-way meetings between representatives of the Commission, Council, and EP (see Box 5.4)—91 meetings of Coreper I and II, plus a total of 300 events organized in Romania, as well as the Sibiu Summit on the 9 May 2019, which was an informal European Council focused on developing strategic plans for the future (Coman 2020—see Box 4.6).

p. 103↵The rotating presidency should also allow the holder to act as a mediator, in which it plays a key role in facilitating agreements. Effective leadership increases the chances of identifying efficient bargaining outcomes in the Council and drawing negotiations to a close quickly (Warntjen 2013: 1244).

4.3.3 The increasing role of the European Council in EU decision-making

The post-Maastricht era has brought not only increased contestation, as illustrated by postfunctionalism. Other trends have been observed at the institutional level, for example, in the interactions between and within institutions. Contrary to LI, which explains why member states share or pool sovereignty, the theory of new intergovernmentalism argues that member states have become extremely reluctant to allow any further delegation of power from the domestic to the supranational level (Puetter 2014). Integration is pursued, but ‘without supranationalization’ (Bickerton et al. 2015b). In addition—and again contrary to LI, which focuses on bargains among member states to shape integration—new intergovernmentalists argue that consensus-seeking and deliberation have become the norm in day-to-day decision-making (Hodson 2021: 86). Recent crises—from the Eurozone crisis to the migration crisis—have shown that most solutions have emerged through intergovernmental deliberations in the Council and in the European Council (Puetter 2014), which is different from bargaining in the sense that the leaders seek to accommodate their differences through argumentation (Schmidt 2020). For example, in the context of the Eurozone crisis, the search for solutions to save the euro was marked by tensions between Southern and Northern European member states. While Germany, supported by Northern member states, argued in favour of austerity and structural reforms (Bull 2018), France and Southern European member states argued in favour of increased economic and budgetary flexibility (Coman 2018). Demands for austerity thus characterized the initial, fast-burning phase of the crisis, after which more flexibility was permitted once it became clear that austerity was not succeeding in creating its intended economic policy outcomes. The shift from the former to the latter strategy was the result of increased deliberation. Deliberation is understood as member states’ attempts to accommodate national differences in the European Council and in the Council, as well as in the wide range of working groups in which national policies are coordinated since the Eurozone crisis.

Because of the increased heterogeneity of national preferences—resulting from their different economic interests or preferences based on identity—member states resort more often to the European Council. Decisions are taken by the leaders in the European Council rather than by the ministers in the Council. The more prominent role of the European Council has an impact on its relations with other EU institutions. As new intergovernmentalism puts it, in the decade of crises, the European Council has become the centre of gravity of EU decision-making, p. 104↵instructing both the European Commission and the Council (Bickerton et al. 2015b). As a result—and as new intergovernmentalism highlights—the European Council takes decisions that would traditionally fall within the ambit of the Council (of ministers) (Puetter 2014; Fabbrini 2015). As a reminder, the European Council started to meet informally in the late 1960s, with the aim of giving greater impetus to EU integration and of intervening when divisions were preventing the members of the Council from reaching agreements (see section 3.5). The European Council is therefore the forum where ‘history-making’ decisions are made. Since the beginning of the Eurozone crisis, the number of European Council meetings has increased. Some of them deal with key sensitive issues (often called ‘high politics’). However, many ‘low politics’ issues have now become high politics concerns, due to the increased heterogeneity among member states.

A decade of EU crises has also made more visible this new role of the European Council, a role that has been further strengthened by the crises triggered by the COVID-19 pandemic. While the Eurozone crisis has dramatically impacted the peoples of Europe, the COVID-19 pandemic has put all individual national economies under considerably more strain. In 2020, at the beginning of the health crisis, when lockdowns were declared, borders were closed, and much economic activity was brought to a standstill, it clearly appeared that the recovery would depend on the capacity of each member state to deal with its social and economic consequences. After years of both austerity and structural reforms to douse the flames of the Eurozone crisis, it appeared that not all member states were able to increase their levels of debt to overcome the economic effects of the pandemic.

The EU’s initial reaction was slow, in particular when affected countries needed a helping hand. In search of a solution, various manifestos, declarations, and petitions were published all over Europe, demanding an ambitious response such as the mutualization of debt. On 25 March 2020, nine Eurozone countries (Belgium, France, Italy, Luxembourg, Spain, Portugal, Greece, Slovenia, and Ireland) sent a letter to the President of the European Council, Charles Michel, asking for a common debt instrument (often referred to as ‘Corona-bonds’) to mitigate the damage caused by the COVID-19 pandemic (EURACTIV 2020). These countries together argued that a step in this direction would be a sign of a strong political union in which member states not only supported, but also trusted each other. Germany, the Netherlands, and Finland were, however, opposed to debt mutualization. Before the beginning of the pandemic, when member states were debating the 2021–7 Multiannual Financial Framework, Austria, Denmark, Sweden, and Denmark (dubbed the ‘frugal four’) advocated for a more ‘responsible’ EU budget, meaning its reduction. While Germany was initially reluctant to mutualize debts, it soon became one of the supporters of an ambitious recovery plan. An agreement had to be reached at the European Council in July 2020. It took four days and four nights to convince the ‘frugal four’ to support this historic decision—that is, to mandate the Commission to borrow €750 billion on the capital markets—as a sign of political unity and solidarity (see Figure 10.2).