Changing Horizons: From Federalist Dream to Critical Supporter of Europe

Memoir of Changing Horizons: From Federalist Dream to Critical Supporter of Europe

✍️ Author’s Note
This essay is a personal testament — a reflection on four decades of changing horizons. From the optimism of Maastricht and German reunification to the scepticism born of enlargement, crises, and dependency, I trace how my own belief in a federal Europe gave way to reluctant support for the Union as it exists today. What began as faith has become necessity: I no longer defend the Europe I dreamed of, but the only Europe we have.

Prologue: Horizons Shift

Horizons change with time. The Europe I once dreamed of — a federal Europe with a banking, fiscal, security, and defence union — has not materialized. Instead, what remains is a Union that survives by stumbling from crisis to crisis, improvising solutions but never guided by vision.

And yet, European history teaches us one lesson we cannot ignore: nationalism offers no solution to our problems. It has been the source of some of the gravest crimes in our history. What endures, then, is not the Europe I once imagined, but the only Europe we have. My support is no longer born of faith, but of necessity.

Origins: Hope and Federalist Optimism (Late 1980s–1992)

The fall of the Berlin Wall and the reunification of Germany felt like history opening a window, allowing fresh oxygen to enter a stale room. After five centuries of European hegemony in world affairs, a new and uncharacteristic chapter seemed possible: one in which Europe, humbled by the disasters of two world wars, might reclaim sovereignty, shape its own security order, and act as a community of destiny.

For me, this was one of the most inspiring political events of my lifetime. The dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991 confirmed Adenauer’s conviction that Germany’s division was temporary, and that unity would herald a new European order.

What it was not: Francis Fukuyama’s “end of history.” The notion that liberal democracy had triumphed as a universal system seemed to me naïve. The world and its cultures are too diverse to fit into such a frame. Similarly, today’s rhetoric of a struggle between democracy and autocracy strikes me as an invitation to endless conflict.

In hindsight, 1989 was not the end of history but the opening of a new chapter. While Europe congratulated itself, Russia and the West read those years very differently. The absence of reason has since led us into a new Cold War — this time with China as part of the equation, and the outlines of a new world order taking shape.

But the original sin of postwar Europe was already visible. Instead of creating its own security framework, it chose the cheaper path of U.S. protection. A choice of comfort over sovereignty, dependence over responsibility.

Still, in those years, optimism prevailed. The Maastricht Treaty promised a deeper union. Jacques Delors embodied a vision of Europe as a community that protects, not just a marketplace. I, too, believed. For a brief moment, it seemed as though the federal dream might take root.

Disillusionment: Enlargement and the Missed Political Union (1990s–2000s)

The 1990s brought achievements: Maastricht, the single market, the euro. Yet it was also the decade when my reservations began. The warnings of Delors about the need for stronger constitutional foundations, banking and fiscal union, and political deepening were ignored.

The presidents who followed Delors left little political footprint; they managed the machinery while national interests prevailed. The 2002 Convention on the Future of Europe drafted an ambitious constitution — with a permanent president, foreign minister, and a charter of rights. It was rejected in 2005, when France and the Netherlands failed to ratify it. Amended and diluted, the Lisbon Treaty was signed in 2007 and entered into force in 2009, but the moment of constitutional ambition was lost.

The 2004 enlargement may have been inevitable given the vacuum of the time, but it was driven more by American than European interests. Enlargement served Washington well: it diluted Western Europe’s weight within the Union and ensured that Europe would never be a fully sovereign actor. It turned the EU into something closer to the economic club Britain had always wanted, not the political union many of us had dreamed of.

The disparities soon became evident: uneven development, corruption, democratic and judicial backsliding. Brussels — under Juncker, a committed European, and later under von der Leyen — too often looked the other way. Core values were eroded, standards unenforced, Euroscepticism grew. This was not the Europe I signed up for.

The 2003 Iraq War confirmed why: Europe split into “old” and “new,” with Washington exploiting the divide. Europe had no common voice, no sovereignty of its own. Watching Dominique de Villepin’s eloquent speech at the UN against the rush to war, I felt he represented me — the voice of old Europe, insisting that “having won the war, one has to build peace.” It was a voice of reason, but one soon drowned out.

Crises of Confidence (2008–2016)

The financial crisis of 2008 exposed the weakness of the eurozone and the fatal absence of a fiscal union. North lectured South, solidarity frayed, austerity scarred societies. The Union stumbled on, but the cracks deepened.

In 2014, the Ukraine crisis erupted — a tragedy for Russia, Ukraine, and Europe alike. Its origins lay not in 2022 but in decades of arrogance, missed opportunities, NATO expansion, and broken promises. The war was long in the making.

The 2015 migration crisis gave new fuel to Le Pen, Orbán, Wilders, and their ilk. The Union fractured east and west, solidarity became a one-way street, and nationalism returned within the house.

Across these years, America loomed large. Bush’s Iraq adventure, his assault on the ICC, rejection of Kyoto, unconditional support for Israel, and his 2008 invitation to Ukraine to join NATO destabilized Europe’s balance of power. Obama’s pivot to Asia, and his weakness in Syria and Ukraine, made clear that Europe was no longer central to U.S. strategy.

By 2016, my federalist optimism had shifted to reluctant support. Without constitutional reform, Europe had reached the limits of expansion. Consolidation became a necessity — an act of self-defence. Europe survived, yes, but always in survival mode, stumbling from crisis to crisis.

Brexit, Trump, and the Illusion of Partnership (2016–2021)

Brexit, steeped in nostalgia and nationalism, shattered the myth of inevitability. Yet paradoxically it united the remaining 27. The lesson was stark: nationalism never left us, and Europe, though resilient, remained a prisoner of crisis.

Then came Trump. The “America First” presidency suffocated transatlantic partnership and exposed the illusion of equality. Heiko Maas captured the moment in 2018: “The world order that we once knew and were accustomed to no longer exists. Old pillars of reliability are crumbling under the weight of new crises.”

Then Covid struck. Borders closed, solidarity vanished, nationalism reasserted itself. The Recovery Fund was bold, but born of necessity. Europe again stumbled, improvised, survived.

Biden briefly restored appearances, but Europe, forgetting the lessons of the Trump presidency, returned to its familiar role: junior partner, often sacrificed at the altar of American primacy, queuing for White House photo opportunities while dependency deepened.

Ukraine, Enlargement, and the Mirage of Autonomy (2022–2025)

The invasion of Ukraine in 2022 was the gravest challenge since 1945. Europe rallied with courage, but the old questions lingered. “As long as it takes,” leaders proclaimed. Yet with Ukraine on economic life support, doubts spread: could Europe sustain unlimited support? Could it absorb Ukraine, Moldova, and the Balkans and remain functional? The suggestion seemed dubious.

Here again, I see Brussels’ ivory tower logic at work: enlargement as destiny, consolidation ignored. Delors’ warning is forgotten. Macron’s 2019 veto showed a flash of realism, but the enlargement train had already left the station, travelling in a sleepwalking environment.

I understand the geopolitical rationale, but the risks are obvious: budgetary strain, agricultural disputes, more corruption and instability imported into the Union. Integration without consolidation is not strategy — it is recklessness.

For me, Ukraine confirmed the paradox of my horizon: I still support Europe, but I no longer believe in the Europe I once imagined. I do not believe in a Union that stretches from the Atlantic to the Urals. I fear for the erosion and long-term future of the Union, and would rather see a return to Charlemagne’s pan-Europe, rooted in the shared culture of France and Germany, as the heart of European power and rationality. Von der Leyen’s vision of a Union of 36–37 feels like a recipe for paralysis, not strength.

Epilogue: A Horizon Darkened (1989–2025)

Looking back across these decades, I see my journey clearly: from hopeful federalist to reluctant supporter, now to critical sceptic. The optimism of 1989, the disillusion of enlargement, the crises of the 2000s, the shocks of Brexit and Trump, the improvisations of Covid, and the dilemmas of Ukraine — each stage narrowed the horizon.

Europe today feels more like a market than a community, more follower than sovereign. I still defend it — without it, we are powerless. But it is no longer the Europe I dreamed of. What endures is not faith, but necessity.

Angela Merkel once warned: “Once the generation which survived WWII has expired, we will know if we have learned from history.” Her words linger as nationalism returns, cloaked in populism, eroding the fragile bonds of trust.

And yet, the paradox remains: without the Union, Europe would be powerless. Nationalism offers no solution; it never has. What I defend today is not the Europe I once dreamed of, but the only Europe we have. My support is reluctant, born not of conviction but necessity — but still support.

If horizons are to shift again, Europe must find the courage it has so far lacked: to be more than a market, more than a junior partner, more than a Union that stumbles from one crisis to the next.

Netherlands, William J J Houtzager, Aka WJJH, September 2025

📖 Blog Excerpt
Horizons shift with time. In 1989, I believed in a sovereign, federal Europe that might reclaim its destiny. Today, I see a Union that has traded sovereignty for dependency, vision for survival, and political ambition for the management of markets.

Enlargement, once hailed as triumph, diluted Europe’s cohesion. Crises — from Iraq to Ukraine, from the eurozone to Brexit — left Europe in survival mode, never sovereign, always stumbling forward. And yet, for all my scepticism, the paradox remains: without the Union, Europe would be powerless.

This memoir of changing horizons is not the defence of a dream, but of necessity.