IN 1849, the year of the “spring of nations,” a peace congress took place in Paris. The main address given by Victor Hugo, the most famous author of the time, announced that

A day will come when you, France—you, Russia—you, Italy—you, England—you, Germany—all of you, nations of the Continent, will, without losing your distinctive qualities and your glorious individuality, be blended into a superior unity, and constitute an European fraternity. . . . A day will come when bullets and bombshells will be replaced by votes, by the universal suffrage of nations, by the venerable arbitration of a great Sovereign Senate, which will be to Europe what the Parliament is to England, what the Diet is to Germany, what the Legislative Assembly is to France.

One hundred sixty years have passed since this noble vision was enounced; a European parliament of sorts has come into being, but not exactly a European brotherhood, and one suspects that Victor Hugo would still not be too happy with the present state of the Continent.

My memories of Europe go back to a childhood in Weimar Germany and growing up in the Nazi Third Reich. I left the country shortly before the outbreak of the Second World War. I have returned for many short visits and some long stays since, been to most European countries and made the Continent one of my fields of study. My children went to school on both sides of the Atlantic. European culture has been the formative influence in my life (that of the past admittedly more than the present). Thus I had the good fortune to benefit from a variety of global perspectives. When I look out of our windows in Washington, DC, I can see the raccoons and squirrels in the trees of Rock Creek Park; when I look out of our apartment in Highgate, London, I see the squirrels of Waterlow Park and, in winter when the leaves are down, the grave of Karl Marx.

Having seen Europe and the Europeans in good times and bad, the day may have come for a summing-up. I learned long ago that a crisis is merely the period between two others, but the present one is considerably deeper and could be fateful. Five years ago, in a book entitled The Last Days of Europe, I referred to the passing of a Europe I had known. The reception was skeptical in part; the views I expressed were unfashionable, and the book certainly came too early. According to a wide consensus, the twenty-first century belonged to the Continent, the civilian superpower that would be envied and emulated by all others.

Europe, and especially the European Union, was not doing badly at all. Had it not progressed to a common currency? The reviewer in the Economist (my bible among the weeklies) blamed my book for “unduly apocalyptic conclusions.” And now I see that a recent editorial in the same magazine about the very same issue is headlined “staring into the abyss.”

But I was not staring into the abyss at the time, and I am not now; I was merely considering the possibility of Europe turning into a museum or cultural theme park for well-to-do tourists from East Asia. Not a heroic or deeply tragic future, but not my idea of an apocalypse either. Certainly, at the time I was dealing more with the long-term challenges facing the Continent, such as the demographic trends. More recently, as a result of the global recession and especially the European debt crisis, the immediate dangers resonate. This is only natural, for the collapse of banks, the instituting of austerity budgets and rising unemployment are clear and present dangers. Long-term threats can be pushed aside; there is always a chance that they may not happen. Five years on—no more than a minute in history—can also seem like an eternity.

PONDERING THE future of Europe, one is reminded of Frenchman Raymond Aron’s In Defense of Decadent Europe, published in the 1970s, and the debate it triggered. Despite his native pessimism, Aron did not believe that decadent Europe would fall victim to the superior ideological attraction of Communism and the economic, military and political power of the Soviet Union.

With all his sympathy for liberal Europe, Aron was aware of the process of decadence (or decline, to use a more value-free term), which set in with the First World War and accelerated with the Second. The reasons are known: the devastation from the conflicts, the great bloodletting and the deeply destructive ideologies they bore. By the 1950s and ’70s, Europe had largely recovered in the material sense; it was better off than ever. But it had not recovered its self-confidence. True, there was much talk about common European values, but in reality consumerism and materialism (not of the philosophical variety) as a way of life were certainly more important factors.

And yet, students of history know all too well that the subject of decline has to be approached with caution, and there have been many false prophecies. There have been incidents not only of survival but also of recovery of countries, continents and civilizations that had been given up as lost causes. When western Rome fell, it was generally assumed that the eastern part of the Roman Empire was also doomed, but Byzantium survived for another thousand years. After the defeat by the Prussians in 1871, the general view in France was that Finis Galliae had arrived—that in view of the shrinking population, general defeatism, the lack of patriotism and self-respect, as well as social evils such as alcoholism and what was then called “eroticism,” France was finished, never to rise again. And yet, within thirty years the situation radically changed: decadence became unfashionable, it was largely replaced by militarism and even chauvinism; the Eiffel Tower was built; sport was discovered and became popular; and France was itself again. More recently, it took Germany a mere fifteen years after its defeat in World War I to reemerge as the strongest and most feared country in Europe.

The European Dream thus arrived: a postnationalist model of peace, prosperity, social justice and ecological virtue. It is certainly encouraging to know that the homicide rate in Europe is one-quarter that of the United States, that the literacy rate and the life span are higher. A revolution took place in Europe during the last sixty years that most Americans simply did not notice. It achieved a new balance between individual property rights and the common good, between government regulation and the free market, between liberty and equality—which America with its naive belief in the all-curative power of the free market had never achieved. The excesses of consumer capitalism had been tempered. It had pioneered a new approach to a humanitarian foreign policy. At long last it had come to live in peace with itself and the rest of the world. Europe was healthy and sustainable; it was stress-free in contrast to feverish, unbalanced America. The future seemed to belong to the European model. It would be emulated all over the world, a shining beacon to all mankind.

ON A depressing morning with the only news in the media about Ireland on the brink of collapse, Britain facing years of austerity, Greece in despair, Portugal beyond despair, Italy and Spain in grave danger, “chronically weak demand,” “debilitating cycles,” “collision course in Europe,” “killing the Euro,” “pernicious consequences” and “towards the precipice”—it now sounds much like the end of days.

It is easy, far too easy, to ridicule now the illusions of yesteryear. The postwar generation of European elites aimed to create more democratic societies. They wanted to reduce the extremes of wealth and poverty and provide essential social services in a way that prewar government had not. They wanted to do all this not just because they believed that it was morally right but also because they saw social equity as a way to temper the anger and frustrations that had led ultimately to war. For several decades many European societies more or less achieved these aims. Europe was quiet and civilized, no sounds of war.

It simply is not true that the present crisis is entirely the fault of John Maynard Keynes and the Social Democrats. Keynes has been dead for a long time, and no major European country (save Spain) has been ruled by Social Democrats for years. And yet, at a certain period the European idea began to lose steam. It was based on the assumption of permanent economic growth, and it did not take into account the problem of aging European societies. Once growth stalled and people lived longer, the base of the scheme eroded. Basic mistakes were made in other respects as well, such as the accumulation of debts and the belief that an economic-financial union could be established in the absence of a political one.

Europe needed to be based on a feeling of European identity and common values. But it began, after all, as an iron, steel and coal union. True, Jean Monnet, the father of the European Union, later said that he would put the emphasis on culture rather than the economy if he had to start all over again. But he did begin with the economy, and this approach was probably not without reason.

European integration was so difficult not because it had to overcome what some called the artificial concept of nation-statehood (nation-statehood had developed over the centuries; perhaps the world and Europe would have been better off without it, but it was certainly not artificial) but because the community of communities was artificial. All investigations have shown that people feel an attachment to the place and the country in which they were born (90 percent), but much less so to a wider institution involving a different way of life or a different language. According to a 1996 Eurobarometer survey, only 51 percent of Europeans “felt European,” and this figure seems not to have increased since. Various attempts have been made to strengthen the feeling of a common cultural heritage, including a European anthem and a European flag, so far to little effect. Some common cultural events have been slightly more successful, including the Eurovision Song Contests (which also generated a considerable amount of ill will as the result of political maneuvering) and the Vienna New Year’s Eve Johann Strauss concerto (but this was also enjoyed by many millions in China and Japan).

It would be unfair to conclude that Europe has become lazy, but it certainly has become inward looking and lethargic, lacking curiosity and enterprise. There is nothing wrong with the desire to enjoy life, but it is disconcerting if this is accompanied by a dearth of interest in the future.

Sometimes in history profound changes have come with the rise of a new generation, the eternal lucky chance of mankind, to echo Jewish philosopher Martin Buber. But young generations have also produced great mischief on the Continent, such as the victories of Fascism and Communism which, initially at least, were movements of the youth.

If there will be a rejuvenation of Europe, it will come to a considerable extent from young people with non-European backgrounds. But with notable exceptions, Europe has not been able to attract the best of them, and there is no need to recapitulate in detail the great problems that have arisen in the integration of so many of the new immigrants. In any case, the youth cohort will shrink in Europe in the decades to come. The Continent is aging as a result of low fertility and rising life expectancy. This means not only increasing pressure on the European health services and pension schemes but also, quite likely, a decline in the standard of living. At the same time, paradoxically, massive youth unemployment is likely to persist, and the young will have to shoulder the burden of the massive debts accumulated in the past. A far smaller cohort of young people will have to work for the well-being of a far larger group of the old.

Hence generational conflict will be the new norm. Youth revolts were not infrequent in nineteenth-century Europe, but they were mainly political not social in character. More recently, rebellions of the young have taken place in France, Britain, Spain and Greece. Will national (or European) solidarity be strong enough to withstand these pressures in the coming years?

There is an almost unlimited number of possibilities for the failure of the European Union, but it would appear that the decisive issues are not the technical decisions that will be taken concerning the economy and the finances of the Continent but the deeper political and psychological factors—nationalism or postnationalism, whether dynamism or exhaustion will prove stronger. There are trends that can be predicted with a certain degree of probability, but there are also the imponderabilia which cannot be measured or weighted, let alone predicted, because they can be subject to sudden change. And it seems that the imponderabilia will be more decisive.

MANY EUROPEANS complain about a lack of democracy and they fear, rightly perhaps, that a Europe dominated by Brussels will be even less democratic. Few complain about a lack of leadership even though this is certainly as much needed if not more. For Europe has been drifting, and it is not even clear in what direction.

How much democracy can there be in the world of tomorrow? The system of the old Polish parliament with its liberum veto, in which the negative vote of one sufficed to bring any initiative to a halt, certainly will not work. The last Treaty of Lisbon (2009) brought some movement in this respect, but in practice it has not changed that much. Germany and France got together to streamline the EU make the decision process quicker and more efficient, and impose stricter regulations and controls. But it did not help much, and there has not been full agreement between the two. Other countries did not like the attempts to remodel the EU in the image of France and Germany, however badly they needed help. But they, of course, had no alternative either.

Perhaps Robert Cooper is right. He has been advising EU foreign policy on and off for a long time. In his view Europe is postmodern, believing in peaceful interdependence and modern cooperation, whereas the policy of other states is rooted (at best) in ideas of traditional zones of influence and balance of power. But how will the postmodern survive in a world in which all too often chaos prevails, not the laws of the International Criminal Court but the laws of Hobbes? The postmodernists will have to act according to two sets of rules: one between “civilized” nations and another (“the rougher methods of an earlier era”) when dealing with the ruffians who have not yet reached the advanced stage of postmodernism. This may sound sensible, but it is impractical. “Liberal imperialism” is an unnecessarily provocative term, not a realistic policy for sending a few thousand people for a limited time to a faraway country with the order not to shoot.

Cooper’s theses, not surprisingly, have irritated those willing to forgive clerical fascism, dictatorship, even genocide, provided they happen outside Europe and the United States. But the real weakness of this policy is elsewhere—it embodies not only discrimination but also a determination that seems to be absent on the Continent these days. Europe as a forceful player would be most welcome, but how does one become a forceful player? Does Europe in its apathy want it? As Schopenhauer put it, to wish is easy but to wish to wish (wollen wollen) is next to impossible. In a recent book entitled Un monde sans Europe? (2011), Pierre Hassner writes that Europe should be a factor of equilibrium, of coordination and conciliation because it is strong enough to influence others and to defend itself but not to conquer and dominate: “Europe needs the world, the world needs Europe.” Noble words, true words—who could not agree with such sentiments? But does the world share these sentiments, does Europe have the inner strength, the ambition to fulfill this mission?

The Asian political philosophers and statesmen were probably right when they told the Europeans that their more authoritarian model of governance will be more suitable to confront the tasks of the years to come. Europe, as they see it, is a spent force, essentially a customs union that never seriously intended to become a global power. They find it strange that Europe seems not to be aware of its modest role in world affairs and has not come to terms with it. Whether there will be one Europe, or a Europe des patries (in Charles de Gaulle’s phrase), or no united Europe at all, it will hardly be more democratic than at present. It will be increasingly difficult in the struggle for survival to maintain the present level of democratic freedoms.

There never was a European superstate, not even the blueprint for one. True, there are common interests, but could not Latin America serve as a model? The countries of Latin America live in peace with each other and cooperate to a certain extent; they have established a common market of sorts (Mercosur), providing free transit of goods, and a customs union. Two hundred years ago, Venezuelan Simón Bolívar had more ambitious plans for unifying the region, but his vision collided with Latin American realities and was not to happen, though these countries had much more in common than Europe (even, with the exception of Brazil, a common language). There have been of late some attempts to establish a closer political framework, but it seems doubtful whether substantial progress will be made.

The prospects for European prosperity are far worse. Poor in raw materials and energy resources, Europe will find it difficult to maintain its standard of living and social achievements unless united. Unlike Latin America, its geopolitical location makes it more exposed to political pressures from its energy suppliers. Unless economic governance is strengthened, there will be recurrent crises, the imbalances between the countries will increase, and there will be a return to economic nationalism and protectionism. Unless there is a common energy policy, Europe will find it difficult to compete in world markets. Unless there is a common defense policy, Europe will count for even less in world affairs.

At present, the majority seems to be undecided what way to choose. They are reluctant to make a clean break with the EU but equally reluctant to move forward toward a superstate. Some feel that they may fare better facing the years to come alone; small, it used to be said, is beautiful. Small-town life in the past had its great charms. The everyday as depicted in the paintings of Carl Spitzweg, the German romantic painter, was certainly more pleasant than life among the satanic mills of England.

Perhaps the common ties and values and the mutual trust are not strong enough to serve as the basis for a real union. Perhaps with each country fending for itself they will do as well as with forces combined.

And if they do not do as well, this could be compensated for by greater happiness. It is not certain that even a united Europe would have the vigor and political will to play a truly important role in international politics. And there is always the chance that the coming storms will bypass a Europe taking a low profile. Keeping a low profile seems to come easier these days than generating political will—and certainly appears to be less risky.

THE EUROPE I have known is in the process of disappearing. In its place will be something in between a regional power and indeed a valuable museum. For the time being I tend to agree, despite everything, with Alfred, Lord Tennyson: “Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.”

There is much that is admirable in Europe’s past and even in its present, weakened state. But I am no longer certain to what extent Tennyson’s sentiments are shared by a majority of Europeans, to what degree there still is firm belief in a European identity, a European model and European values—and above all the will to defend them. Instead there is the comforting thought that other parts of the world seem to be in decline too. The present crisis is not primarily a financial-debt crisis but a crisis of lack of will, inertia, tiredness and self-doubt, and, however often “European values” are invoked, a crisis of lack of self-confidence, a weak ego in psychoanalytical terms.

Europe’s status in the world was predominant for a few centuries just as that of other powers earlier on; this has come to an end. All recorded history is the story of rise and decline. Unlike university professors, superpowers have no tenure. At the dawn of the modern age Giambattista Vico in his famous and influential Scienza Nuova argued that history moves in recurrent cycles—the divine, the heroic and the human (an imperfect translation of l’eta degli uomini). Europe is post-heroic. We are seeing it turn human.

Walter Laqueur is the author of the forthcoming After the Fall: The End of the European Dream and the Decline of a Continent, an assessment of the European crisis (Thomas Dunne Books, 2012).