Aleš Debeljak Europe: Dream of Unity, Life of Divisions

Aleš Debeljak  Europe: Dream of Unity, Life of Divisions

In the 1990s, the European Union aimed to achieve two ambitious goals: to end the Yugoslav wars of secession and to lead the nations of Eastern Europe toward economic and social prosperity. Today both of these goals remain elusive. The Dayton Accord, brokered by the United States in 1995, merely froze the state of war on the territory of former Yugoslavia without in any way remedying its causes. Moreover, it was not a European, but an American military force that effectively intervened in Bosnia and then later in Kosovo. Indeed, I fear that if the Yugoslav wars of secession had remained the exclusive responsibility of the EU, Sarajevo would still be under siege today.

As for the second goal of economic and social prosperity for post-communists countries, after the velvet revolutions of 1989 ushered in a period of renewed hope, the European Union failed to respond with a European version of the Marshall Plan offering substantial assistance to these nations. The subsequent integration of many of these countries into the EU presents a grave challenge. Consider: the current annual gross domestic product in the EU is approximately 23,000 dollars per capita, which is as much as four times that of Poland, Hungary and the Czech Republic. The average EU citizen today is ten times wealthier than the average Romanian or Bulgarian citizen (in other words, the citizens of post-communist countries in the second round of candidates for a membership). To put it bluntly: the chosen mission of the EU to bring prosperity and stability into Eastern Europe and the Balkans is an expensive and contradictory enterprise which is sure to keep the EU nations at odds for another generation at least. We are thus left with the dawning realization that Europeans may have tragically failed in the very objectives that they strove to realize on their own, that is without any outside (read: American) help. 

From this vantage point, it seems clear that the various networks connecting Europe and America reflect a real, mutual and inescapable dependence. Despite the self-righteousness of the American government under president George W. Bush and the controversial war and occupation of Iraq in the spring of 2003, the community of European nations cannot simply retreat into their historical bunker of cultural specificities and try to make meaningful distinctions from America, or, as some commentators suggest, define themselves against America. The attempt to build a European political identity on anti-American foundations is just as likely to fail as the past attempt of German Romantics to define their nation on an exclusively anti-French basis. 

Moreover, America has been much more systematic in providing support to Eastern European anti-communist dissidents and the fresh buds of civil society that sprouted there. From a historical perspective, this is hardly a surprise. In the wake of World War II, Western Europe was a de facto American military protectorate. It is ironic that without the threat of war and the assistance of America, Europeans would certainly not have been able to afford the massive investment that extended over half a century to further their search for so-called universal peace. It was only under the protective umbrella of NATO forces, in which America had the leading role, that Western Europe could even begin the post-war project of reconciliation and integration. 

During these years, Europe took ample advantage of the instruments of American aid intended for the rebuilding of the ravaged continent, but it always did so with great reservations regarding as to America’s potential economic imperialism. It was also America that provided European nations with the incentive to summon adequate political will to overcome the violent conflicts that had divided them for centuries. This endeavor required the strategic construction of common life-world structures, which rendered war between European nations not only materially impractical but morally unacceptable and mentally unfathomable. Despite progress in this direction, however, it has not been possible for Europe to entirely eliminate the many obstacles on the complex map of historical hostilities, across which any prospective idea of a community of European nations must navigate. 

One would think that the first thing needed to conceive of the imaginary totality of Europe would be concrete and identifiable boundaries. But the absence of a strict natural border on the Eastern flank of the continent has instead conditioned the need for a symbolic geography. Historically, distinct areas were (and indeed may still be) defined by mutual opposition. In other words, Europe has traditionally defined itself negatively, its self-perception arising from what it is not, rather than from what is. Accordingly, its outer boundaries shifted with political circumstances and the various and sometimes random features of different historical periods. At various times, this boundary has been determined by the Oder and Neisse rivers, by the ridges of the Carpathian Mountains, the Ural Mountains, the summits of the Alps and the Pyrenees, the Atlas mountains, the coasts of the Black and Caspian Seas, the Iron curtain, and, most recently, by the so-called Schengen limes. Throughout the ongoing changes in the significance that Europe has attributed to the imagined or real enemy (the existence of which has always been crucial despite its many disguises), temporary alliances of interest and pragmatic coalitions of power were formed. 

In any event, the common denominator has always been fear. In the collective popular mind of the nations claiming membership in Europe, the East and the West have acquired polarized meanings of value, with the East becoming the negative other of Europe. In modern times, it was Eastern Europe, the Balkans with the attendant communist ideology that assumed this negative role. However, going back to the Middle Ages, European rhetoric has more persistently perceived of the Orient and Islam as the other incarnate in its ongoing process of defining borders between the domestic and foreign, between us and them. 

The noble ambition that wants to see Europe united and free served as an ongoing inspiration to a significant part of the national elites since World War II. These elites realized that they must limit the potential sources of fear, while at the same time striving to integrate increasingly large chunks of the continent into common life-world structures. This ambition continues to drive many European leaders. Despite increasing public protest, they must accept the challenge that lies ahead of them and persuade their constituencies to follow the vision of a free and united Europe. 

But who is a European? I suggest that it will be my children, who are less than ten years old today, and their generation that may become the first Europeans in the full sense of the word: that is to say in terms of possessing a self-assured sense of belonging to a broader and more abstract union than that provided by the nation. The generation for which the entry of Slovenia into the European Union is coterminous with their enrollment in elementary school could be the first to make full use of European opportunities and more importantly to identify themselves as true Europeans, an identity that will no longer belong, as it does today, exclusively to a small group of national elites. Instead, the European identity will represent an orbit of authentic empathy, thoughts and deeds that will accrue to the benefit of all citizens. As adults, the European children of today will, I hope, be free of the persistent burden of prejudice that there is a good part of the continent and abad part, a prejudice which I admit has historically assisted in the development of the European idea. As for me, I must confess that, having come of age under the Yugoslav communist regime, I shall never be able to completely shed these complexes. They are part of my cultural baggage, the contents of which are determined in many ways by the limitations of the Slovenian collective experience, to say nothing of my individual one. 

But there is a hidden potential within these very limitations. A person, after all, does not belong to a single environment. Within each individual there exists a plentitude of residual forces from numerous identifications, sediments from various collective experiences. The European human condition dramatizes these numerous identifications by providing the very real possibility of belonging to concentric circles of identity in which we may simultaneously exist, even if we do so with different degrees of emotional intensity and existential validity. Thus, if one is aware of the various layers of identity shaping the individual personality, then it may be hoped that the often poisonous allegiance to one single and exclusive identity will remain closed in the bottle of moral and political unacceptability. 

And that is where the poison of nationalism belongs as anyone who experienced the devastating wars Yugoslavia, wars that were driven by the ideological wind of national unity, which in turn drove the attempted genocide of anyone perceived as different or other. Fundamentalism that terrorizes and kills people in the name of an illusory national purity is no more justified than terror and killing in the name of a religious idea or ideological doctrine. The EU tragically failed in its mission when it refused for such a long time to intervene in these most recent outbursts of fundamentalism on the old continent, that is, to intervene in the wars for Yugoslav succession. I cannot deny the fact that this recent European history has profoundly affected my observations and critical thinking. My skeptical position towards European institutions is rooted specifically in my horror at the EU’s passivity during the Yugoslav cataclysm. 

This particular set of doubts rushed into my mind when I picked up my children’s European passport with which the three occasionally play make-believe travel games. This booklet is just one of the many promotional materials that Brussels uses to bring the idea of European unity closer to the public at large. It is a sort of illustrated catalogue of different countries, languages, flags, information on the populations and political systems. It is written in an exciting and yet perplexing way. In other words: it is much like Europe itself. 

As I flipped through this fictional passport, two urgent questions came to my mind: Where does Europe end? And who is European? Will we, the citizens of post-communist countries, new members of the EU after May 2004, receive not only the rights of European citizenship, but also the respect worthy of an association of equals? The recent ban on the free movement of workers from the new countries into the old member stateswhich was announced directly prior to the enlargement of the EU reveals the sad truth that, for now, the ideal of European citizenship that would provide equality before the law to each and every EU citizen does not exist. How long then will it take to cast off the legacy of the traditionally divided continent? How long will Western Europeans needs to cast off the deep-rooted feelings of suspicion (or at best apathy) that they feel toward the barbaric states and peoples of the East, Europe’s terra incognita? 

So Lošinj is not in Europe? my son asked when we couldn’t find Croatia in the mock document. And here we are again: how do I one explain to a seven-year-old that an island off the seacoast of Slovenia’s eastern neighbor, where my family regularly spends the summers, is, in fact, European, at least as much as Cyprus or Malta? I tried to wriggle my way out of this ordeal by giving a confusing geography lesson about the Mediterranean Sea: Spain, Italy, Greece, all European countries. 

Oh right, he said, those are the places where we need Euros if we want to buy ice cream? 

Yes, yes, I sighed, growing weary of the discussion. But the child persisted: But we have Slovenian tolars, not Euros. Does that mean that we are not part of Europe?I threw up my hands and gave in. 

In such cases, I generally retreated into the refuge of history. For some, the idea of a united Europe provokes a condescending smile, but history teaches us that it is equally laughable to contemplate a divided and successful Europe. A united Europe, of course, would be utterly unique and the commentators who have pointed to the United States of America as paradigm have simply not done their homework. The European Union is a transnational community of nations, and not a nation of (federal) states like America. Therefore, the EU is inventing a political form as it goes along. The dream of a united Europe, however, is ancient. It was pursued by the Roman Empire, Charlemagne and Napoleon, even by Hitler (and this is only a partial list). After World War II, the European idea was adopted by the institutions designed to prevent future armed conflict on the continent. Regardless of the vantage point, one is left with the same conclusion: the European idea is indelibly scarred by wars, aggression and violent conflict. At its very inception, Europe was born out of three catastrophes: the collapse of the city state in ancient Greece, the destruction of the temple of Jerusalem, and the disintegration of the Roman Empire. It was built, on other words, on ruins. European cultures, along with its churches and castles, are constructed from old and bruised material. 

In order for European citizens to gain a reflexive awareness of their shared history, the shaping of the politics of European identity is of paramount importance. Yet sober reflection calls for the acceptance of the invisible character of Europeanness. If children from the diverse European nations were to go on a summer camp together, they would communicate in English, and the subject matter for their conversations would likely be drawn from global cultural industries, where the American matrix holds sway. 

It would be far easier to integrate the common features of various European nations into a unified history in which particular cultural narratives from all nations, not just the traditional West (France, Germany and Great Britain) are reflected. In order to have this kind of common curriculum, however, we would need to define the common goals of European integration. In view of the bickering inside the EU and the bitter disputes over the European constitution, it is impossible to deduce with any certainty what are in fact the common goals of European integration. Does the goal lie in a Fortress Europe which close its doors to new member states after May 2004? Or is the goal Europe as the embodiment of universal ideas: the rule of law, the liberal democratic system, constitutional respect for human rights? A union that can and must expand, perhaps to Turkey and the southern coasts of the Mediterranean, if not to the countries lying east of Polish borders? 

In today’s unstable environment, the European Union as conceived of in the Eastern part of the continent appears to be the ultimate purpose of national life. At the same time, political, economic and intellectual forces cannot avoid the fact that Western Europe, despite the collapse of communism, remains by and large a family unto itself. 

Looked at from this perspective, four aspects of the shaping of contemporary Europe come to the fore. First, there is the economic aspect that emerged from etatist political culture and is based on the belief that it is possible in a relatively short period of time to change individual behavior and value systems by altering market conditions. The second aspect lies in the fact that Europe defines itself negatively. The third aspect is the shared mental framework that might eventually nurture national awareness of the commonality of European nations. At present, this element is still very weak, abstract and optional. The popularity of European jokes is telling. Namely, there are virtually no jokes about Europeans, in contrast to the abundance of jokes about individual nations. As stereotype-affirming as jokes tend to be, they do reveal the preoccupations of normal people in their everyday lives. The European does not feature as either the protagonist or the butt of jokes for the simple reason that Europeanism, the identity in which to ground such jokes, is hardly present in individual national public spheres. 

This brings us to the fourth key aspect of the current European order: its democratic deficit. United Europe remains, in fact, the project of social elites rather than that of broader national populations across the continent. Due to the inescapable fact that the European Union is being established from the top down, it has yet to take root among ordinary people. The European anthem, the flag, and the Euro banknotes are isolated bricks in the mental structure of the European identity: they still need common masonry to hold them together. 

The EU, which thrives on formal procedures, negotiation, and consensual compromise in the search of the common good, today faces its most profound challenge: it must invent a new political order. Regardless of whether the future holds prospects for a confederate Europe (an approach often favored in French political circles) or for a federation (a favorite of German diplomacy) a European democratic political culture must first be put in place and nurtured within member states themselves. This is especially true in the post-communist countries where democracy is, metaphorically speaking, in its early adolescent stage – that is to say a difficult teenager. Democratic life in individual member-states is the main precondition need to foster the same culture on a trans-national, European level as well. 

Unfortunately, a culture where trust, consent and solidarity are the main ingredients in common European life remains a long way off. In the renewed ambition of the three strongest members EU (France, Germany, Great Britain) to create a directorate that would lead the European Union with relative independence even after enlargement is realized, then the future of the EU is painfully obvious: a Europe of two speeds; or put another way, a Europe of the first and second class citizens. This current policy only reinforces the historical discrimination of the traditional West against the countries, languages, cultural traditions, and people in thewild East, the petit pays de merde, as the French like to say. 

The fact that, while Europe equivocated, America finally intervened with military force in Bosnia and Kosovo (however late) worsens my personal doubts and dilemma all the more. My dilemma stems, in part, from the realization that many rejections of the American strategic dominion in Europe are permeated with an anti-American sentiment. It is this popular sentiment that has, after the end of the Cold War, replaced the structural source of fear that the Soviet Empire once represented. I would be blind if I didn’t recognize, however, that the escalation of America’s global military presence that began with the legitimate and legal attack of Afghanistan as the base the terrorist network of Al-Qaeda and went on to illegally occupy Iraq has not meant a huge backward step for transatlantic and international relations. The so-called coalition of the willing might also be called a coalition of bullied states, deceived into believing in the existence of Iraqi weapons of mass destruction. 

The legacy of American ties to Europe, however, cannot simply be regarded from the aspect of contemporary circumstances, however grave they may appear. For Americans after World War II, a united and free Western Europe represented the best form of security and peace. Over the course of the last hundred years, Europe produced two World Wars, was the key geographical and political focus of the third war, the Cold War, and then played a crucial part in the wars of former Yugoslavia with its apparent neutrality which only ties the victims’ hands behind their back. Each of these conflicts prompted in turn an American engagement on the European continent. 

After the Cold War, however, America ceased being regarded as the guardian of the old continent. Instead, it became a mirror that Europe uses to correct, create, and improve its self-image. At the same time, American strategic interest in European matters has declined. Even before September 11, America has begun to shift its focus to the former Soviet Central Asia and the Arab peninsula. Later, America would be naively appalled when faced with the fact that most of the European countries refused to join the States in its clumsily conceived and poorly executed Iraqi adventure. The American Secretary of Defense’s division of countries according to the attitude toward the invasion of Iraq into the Old Europe (the US-defying countries) and thenew Europe (the US-supporting countries) had a twofold character. On the one hand, it stands for the policy ofdivide and conquer that benefits America. On the other, it has functioned as a sobering statement that may one day work to Europe’s benefit. The division clearly illustrated the following: that the governments of post-communist countries not only demand the right to have a voice in the common European house (the indecisiveness of Western Europe during the accession process did not instill much optimism) and they have not simply forgotten the Cold War. Namely, during the Cold War, any culture of mutual trust and solidarity between the Western and Eastern Europe lived a cold and miserly existence. 

In order for Europe to achieve greater authenticity as a pluralistic open society, it must therefore significantly enhance the culture of trust. This culture of trust presupposes a democratic frame defined by solidarity. As with many other underlying social concepts, Western and Eastern Europe differ in their concept of the basic social bond. In the modern Western world, the understanding of solidarity is pragmatic while in the East, the understanding of solidarity has been a moral one. Typical of the former is a concerted effort to join forces of all involved in order to attain a common goal which in turn reflects the common values and interests of participants. In the East, however, the prevailing belief is that solidarity is rooted in the unselfish assistance of the stronger to the weaker, even if the only reward for such a sacrifice is a feeling of moral satisfaction. 

There is no doubt that institutionalized solidarity played a crucial role in contributing to the modernization of Greece, Ireland, Spain and Portugal following their entry into the common European structures. However, solidarity was forced to yield to the demands of greater individual freedom and economic profits that have grown apace with global capitalism. The rebellion of the middle class against the continuation of guarantees for the minimum social safety nets, intended for people living in poverty, has been in Western Europe seized upon by the authorities and channeled into limitations on the national budgets. The result? Solidarity which was once the central supporting pillar of communal well-being is now seen as a luxury which individual nations can, but are not obligated to, afford. It is no longer a crucial value as it has been pushed off to the sidelines. 

And where is the place where such dilemmas might be confronted and perhaps resolved? Not only in Euro-palaces of Brussels, Strasburg and Luxemburg, but in the public, among the people, among European citizens. Unfortunately, it is impossible to speak about an authentic European public that transcends individual national public spheres and their identifying features. In other words: a single and united Europe still remains a dream.