
In The United States of Europe, Reid argued that a new "Generation E" had emerged: transnationals who drink the same cocktails, shout for the same soccer teams, wear the same clothes, celebrate Europe Day on May 9, and cheer along to the Eurovision song contest. "The people of the New Europe -- and particularly members of Generation E -- are moving towards a common European culture," he wrote.
In opinion polls, however, voters today consistently identify much more with their nation-states than with Europe. As Chris Patten, former European commissioner for external affairs, has said, "The nation is alive and well -- more potent than ever in some respects.… It is the largest unit, perhaps, to which people will willingly accord emotional allegiance." In fact, even the nation-state is too much for many Europeans. Europe has 16 more countries today than it had in 1988, thanks to the shattering of artificial states -- the Soviet Union, Yugoslavia, and Czechoslovakia. In Belgium, a country smaller than Maryland, there is such a vicious division between Flanders and Wallonia that until December there had been no government for well over 500 days -- a world record.
One can, of course, have multiple identities. Some Europeans are Catalan and Spanish, as well as European. Others are Muslim and French. But identities cannot be artificially created; they are forged early on and never go away. I have now lived longer in Brussels than in my native Wales. Despite my Belgian ID card and driver's license, I do not feel even 1 percent "Belge." My passport says I am a citizen of the European Union, but this is an administrative affiliation, not an emotional attachment. Marmite, marmalade, cricket, warm beer, snooker, darts, embarrassed silences, sodden moors, slow trains, pasty faces -- that is Britain. That I can relate to. That made me who I am. Ostend beach, snails, eels, King Albert II, lace curtains, kissing men's cheeks, garden gnomes, 55 percent taxation, racing pigeons, gingerbread biscuits -- that is Belgium. That I can't relate to.
Maybe my 8-year-old daughter -- who once declared she was "half-Belgian, half-French, and half-Welsh" -- will be one of the first members of Generation E. For now, though, I don't know anyone, even in Brussels, who celebrates Europe Day. If Europeans wear the same clothes, they are likely to be American clothes. Whatever common European culture exists is the preserve of a tiny band of well-educated and rootless cosmopolitans: junior EU officials, Eurostar frequent travelers, and foreign exchange students.
It's true, though, that Europeans are slowly coming together in other ways. Most Europeans care more about the result of the Champions League European soccer final than the European Parliament elections. Thanks to no-frills budget airlines like Ryanair and easyJet, they can crisscross their continent for the price of a takeaway meal. Brits with no great fondness for the EU cheer on French, Spanish, and Portuguese soccer stars playing for their local clubs and then head to the pub to drink Belgian and German lagers. The Irish employ Polish builders who hire Ukrainian workers to build their dream houses back home. Much of the credit for this is due to the EU, which has scrapped national airline monopolies, ended quotas on foreign soccer players, and granted Europeans the right to live, work, and stand for election in any member state. Europe will ultimately be built by Europeans, however, not by Brussels edicts. Indeed, European integration owes as much to brash entrepreneurs like easyJet's Stelios Haji-Ioannou and Ryanair's Michael O'Leary as it does to founding political fathers like Robert Schuman and Jean Monnet.
It is also undeniable that, compared with Americans, Asians, or Africans, Europeans do have certain things in common. As polling for the German Marshall Fund shows, they are wary of war, having lived in its shadow for centuries. They reluctantly accept high taxes as the price they must pay for cradle-to-grave welfare services. They enjoy their generous holidays and lengthy lunch breaks. They expect good public transportation and are concerned about the environment. Most have a shared heritage anchored in Greco-Roman thought and civilization, Christianity, and the Enlightenment values of tolerance and secularism -- even if they are not aware of it.
In her 2002 essay, "What Is a European," British novelist A.S. Byatt asked German writer Hans Magnus Enzensberger whether he felt European or German. He replied there were no such people as Europeans but, after a short pause, added, "On the other hand … if you took me up blindfolded in a balloon and put me down in any European city, I would know it was Europe, and I would know how to find a bar, and the railway station, and a food shop." There is something to this. Standing on the Charles Bridge in Prague, lazing on La Concha beach in San Sebastián, or tucking into fresh goat's cheese at a farmers' market in rural France, you just know you are on the same continent. Standing on an overpass above a 12-lane highway in Los Angeles, waiting for a bus that no longer existed, was one of the few times in my life that I've felt homesick for Europe.
This hardly suggests that Praguers, Basques, and Burgundians are about to shed their local, regional, or national affinities and usher in the age of Homo europeanus. "There is no European people," wrote Geert Mak in his magisterial 2007 book In Europe. "There is not a single language, but dozens of them. The Italians feel very differently about the word 'state' than do the Swedes. There are still no truly European political parties, and pan-European newspapers and television stations still lead a marginal existence. And, above all: in Europe there is very little in the way of a shared historical experience."
This gets to the heart of the matter. "People need stories in order to grasp the inexplicable, to cope with their fate," Mak wrote. "The individual nation, with its common language and shared imagery, can always forge those personal experiences into one great, cohesive story. But Europe cannot do that. Unlike the United States, it still has no common story."
There may be huge differences among the 50 states of America, but at the end of the day Americans feel American and are proud of it. Their hearts beat faster when they sing the "Star-Spangled Banner" or watch their athletes win gold medals at the Olympics. Many are willing to die for their country in far-off wars. Most know, or at least loudly invoke, their constitution and have at least a rough idea of how their political system works. They speak the same language and are obsessed with the same sports.
The European Union has constructed common institutions, laws, and even a currency. It has created all the symbols of a nation-state, including a burgundy passport that places "European Union" above one's own nationality, and a flag, even if it is only voluntarily waved at the Ryder Cup golf championships. It even has an anthem: Beethoven's "Ode to Joy," though it doesn't have lyrics and most Europeans don't know it is their anthem. What it lacks is a people who share a common culture, language, or narrative -- or at the very least are able to identify with the political construct that has been created in their name.
"We have Europe," former Polish Foreign Minister Bronislaw Geremek said. "Now we need Europeans." The problem is that you cannot manufacture Europeans like toy soldiers, and the imposition of artificial political constructs on disparate peoples has rarely ended well. The European Union is different from the Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman empires, the Soviet Union, and the former Yugoslavia in that it was not imposed by force. But there are some similarities: resentment toward political elites in the capital, bruised national identities, and the desire for self-determination in "the provinces."
Here we get to the heart of the eurozone's travails. When the single currency was conceived in the early 1990s, there was a naive belief that by having the same money the nations of the eurozone would somehow converge. In short, the euro would make the spendthrift Greeks more like the parsimonious Germans. Instead, weaker economies simply piggybacked on the strength of the euro, borrowing staggering amounts of money at low interest rates to prop up unsustainable welfare systems and grotesquely inflated housing markets. Necessary reforms -- like making it easier to hire and fire workers, restraining wages, and trimming a bloated public sector -- were simply shelved.


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