Despite the many threats around it—and in part because of them—the continent can emerge from this period stronger and more resilient.
Let’s say you have a friend who fell asleep five years ago and has only just woken up. That friend asks you: “How is Europe these days?” What would you respond?
You would probably associate Europe with the EU, and you would perhaps recognise that the EU is in a delicate state; not just because of the wars surrounding it, the looming economic crisis and the fraying transatlantic relationship, but also because of its growing self-doubt.
Can it reconcile being a peace project with an ambitious investment in defence? Can it be faithful to its own ideals—of human rights and non-discrimination—when its citizens are susceptible to migration panic? Can it rely on diplomacy and international rules when the world appears to be returning to the law of the jungle? And can it survive in that predatory world—politically, economically and culturally? These are precisely the questions that feature in the current speeches of European leaders—from Ursula von der Leyen, to Emmanuel Macron, to Pedro Sánchez.
It is as if the EU is going through a quarter-life crisis—which is, above all, a time of wounded self-confidence. It is a particularly hard moment for pro-Europeans, many of whom are experiencing an emotional see-saw. They exhale when Eurosceptics are defeated in elections, as happened in the Netherlands last October or in Hungary a few weeks back. But they are easily discouraged when the opposite happens, as in Poland a year ago. They look with concern to next year’s presidential election in France, where Marine Le Pen (or her collaborator, Jordan Bardella) could win. Would that “kill the EU”, as suggested by a figure of the far-right internationale, Steve Bannon?
Much of this self-doubt is justified. The past few years have shown that European countries allowed themselves to become too dependent on the US for security, on Russia for energy and on China for industrial production. They have not done enough to keep their economies growing and innovating. This is putting them in increasingly humiliating situations—whether signing asymmetric trade deals with Donald Trump’s America, being sidelined in a US-Israeli attack on Iran or struggling to help Ukraine repel Russian aggression. Ironically, in recent months, far-right leaders—in France, Germany and Britain—have at times projected a more assertive stance on sovereignty vis-à-vis the US than their mainstream competitors.
In this context, Europe’s other “blind spots” are becoming more visible. For example, the under-participation of non-white and Muslim Europeans in its political life was highlighted by the 2024 European Parliament elections. The EU’s response to the war on Gaza and the increasingly restrictive migration policies embraced by mainstream parties—even on the left (as seen in Denmark and Sweden)—also suggest that the European project is only for some Europeans.
Taken together, this makes it easier to understand why not only Eurosceptic voters, but also some otherwise pro-European citizens, could lose faith in today’s Europe. According to ECFR’s public opinion polling from November 2025, only a minority of Europeans were satisfied with the way the bloc was dealing with wars in Ukraine and in the Middle East, with a fraught transatlantic relationship, and with the need to stand up for values they considered important. Even among the electorates of the most pro-European parties (like the German Greens, Civic Coalition in Poland, PSOE in Spain or the Socialist Party in France) many were unconvinced. As a centrist MEP warned the European Commission president last year, “we are losing Europeans.”
Luckily, a quarter-life crisis is not just a moment of great vulnerability. It can also be a period of a transformation. It provides an opportunity to question earlier choices and reassess them critically. The future is open to redefinition. One can still correct course, even if that requires significant change.
This, in the EU’s case, would involve finding the courage to become more self-reliant on defence and security. It would involve daring to think about the future shape of the EU without getting trapped in conversations about enlargement and treaty change. It would encourage thinking about a competitiveness policy that does not undermine climate ambition, social fairness and democracy. And it would allow for a rethink of what it would take for Europeans to be able to say that they are living by the values that are important to them.
Despite the many threats around it—and in part because they force Europe to confront its weaknesses—the continent can emerge from its quarter-life crisis stronger and more resilient. But anyone who has passed through this stage of life knows that the outcome is far from guaranteed. Europeans could continue to make rash and damaging choices, such as pro-EU leaders mimicking the far right, or citizens placing their trust in political charlatans. Or they could simply miss the opportunity for transformation altogether, kicking the can down the road and storing up an even deeper crisis for later; perhaps a midlife one.
One might argue that how Europeans feel about Europe does not matter much—that voters still largely base their decisions on domestic matters. In this view, attitudes towards Europe are politically inconsequential, which is why people can vote for Eurosceptic parties while still declaring attachment to Europe or even to the EU, which apparently they do in growing numbers.
It is true that we lack a precise understanding of how significant Europe is in people’s minds—how much they care about its direction and how much this shapes their domestic voting behaviour. But pro-European leaders cannot afford to leave this terrain unexplored.
As this year’s Europe Day approaches, there are countless reasons why Europe is more politically salient than the last, not least because of the crises Europeans have faced together. Most of all, the mainstream’s political opponents, sensing a fractured pro-European narrative, may well choose to make the EU itself the central electoral battleground. With major elections approaching in France, Poland, Italy and Spain next year—and others in the meantime—the window to navigate Europe’s quarter-life crisis is narrowing fast.
About the author
Pawel Zerka is a senior policy fellow at the European Council on Foreign Relations.