SANTANDER, Spain — My decision to cycle along the old Santiago de Compostela route — which runs 700 kilometers from southern France to northern Spain — this summer struck most of my colleagues and friends as an unpleasant and unnecessary homework assignment.
But my trip, challenging as it was, had a serious purpose: to meet people I otherwise would not, and listen to their thoughts about Europe. I asked them three simple questions: What is Europe for you? Where do you want more Europe, and where would you like to see less? And what are your expectations for next year’s European election?
The answers I received, and the conclusions I pull from them, are not based on a representative sample of Europeans, but on some two dozen unexpected encounters and discussions I had along the way. These informal conversations go beyond the usual surveys or polls, in that they are revealing of the mood ahead of a European election that will be French President Emmanuel Macron’s first electoral test since 2017 and a crucial health check on the state of Europe since Brexit.
My main takeaway is both cause for concern and for hope: Most people I met expect more from Europe, and that in itself is encouraging. But they were also unanimous in diagnosing the European project as being badly stuck.
Europe’s lack of unity on critical issues such as migration is the most common grievance. But in most of these conversations, this observation was not accompanied by a rant against foreigners. Instead, some — like a couple from Toulouse — talked about a disappointing lack of European solidarity, including from France, in managing the plight of migrants and supporting those countries who face the largest influxes.
When the only way forward — a strong, united Europe — is stuck, retrenchment and nationalism become a dangerous temptation.
Many of my interlocutors went even further and blamed this disunity on a bigger crisis around Europe’s fundamental values.
“How can Europe go forward [on issues such as migration] when we don’t share the same values?” a French woman asked me in the Landes region. It became clear that the threat to common EU values posed by Hungary and Poland’s drift away from the rule of law and the fiery rhetoric coming from Italy’s populist government is on everyone’s mind — not just those in the Brussels bubble.
Faced with these issues, many of my interlocutors reached a very French verdict: The EU has grown too big, too fast. Many think returning to a smaller European club would be a good thing, in line with Macron’s proposals for a multispeed Europe, with a core group that includes a few eurozone countries while the larger group restricts itself to broader issues like trade.
The other big theme I heard along my route is a perceived lack of common social or fiscal policies.
A couple from Grenoble, both about to retire, shared their concerns about a Europe that is too focused on new technologies and leaves behind those who make their living in manual jobs. Someone from a leafy Paris suburb made the point that “just a few hours’ drive from Paris” you can avoid paying “capital taxes.” Europe can’t call itself a real Union until it has a unified tax system, she said, adding that there would otherwise “always be winners and losers.”
Few were interested in talking about the European election next May, or the European institutions more generally. Most were not even aware of the upcoming vote, much less the European Parliament’s growing role within the EU legislature. The response from one young man from Clermont-Ferrand was quite typical: He voted in the last European election and will vote again in the next, he said, but he also admitted doesn’t really understand the purpose of doing so.
European institutions are still widely perceived as standard-setters — one interviewee even blamed the EU for the proliferation of roundabouts in her small town. But no one I spoke to was aware of the investment role the EU can play: The mention of the nearly €1-trillion budget triggered many surprised oh la las.
Of course, almost every exchange slid from being one about Europe to being about national or even local politics. And the majority of those I met seemed to share one main concern: the decline in the French education system. The couple from Grenoble, for example, remarked that Germany is doing a better job training future workers, while a couple from Toulouse claimed the “Anglo-Saxon” model is better adapted to preparing younger generations for a globalized workplace.
Even if the EU can only play a secondary role in national debates, the concerns of those I met point to a deeper issue: And that’s that France, or any EU country, cannot face globalization alone.
A retired Bercy civil servant living in rural France gave the blunt assessment that France needs Europe (more than Europe needs France) to deal with the likes of the United States or China. But, as a nurse from Grenoble wisely remarked, too many French voters are still struggling to accept that their country is no longer as powerful on the global stage as it once was.
And when the only way forward — a strong, united Europe — is stuck, retrenchment and nationalism become a dangerous temptation.
Fabrice Pothier is chief strategy officer at Rasmussen Global, a consulting senior fellow at the International Institute for Strategic Studies, and a member of La République En Marche.