A two-speed Europe?

Thursday 5 February 2026

Germany’s recurring proposal for a ‘two-speed Europe’ has returned to the centre of continental debate at a moment of acute geopolitical stress. War on Europe’s eastern flank, economic divergence within the eurozone, demographic imbalance, and the persistent challenge of enlargement have combined to revive an idea that has never quite disappeared from Berlin’s strategic imagination. The proposal is simple in outline but complex in consequence: a core group of European Union member states would pursue deeper political, fiscal and defence integration, while a second group would remain within the Union’s single market and institutions but at a looser level of commitment. Beneath that apparent pragmatism lie profound questions about sovereignty, equality and the future character of Europe itself.

At its heart the two-speed concept reflects Germany’s longstanding concern with governability. The European Union has grown from six founding members to twenty-seven, with further enlargement envisaged to the east and south-east. Germany, as the Union’s largest economy and demographic centre of gravity, has increasingly questioned whether decision-making by consensus amongst such a diverse group is sustainable. In Berlin’s view, deeper integration in areas such as fiscal policy, defence procurement, border control and foreign policy is essential if Europe is to act coherently in an era of strategic competition. If not all member states are willing or able to move at the same pace, Germany argues, those that are should not be held back.

This position is not new. Variants of differentiated integration already exist within the Union. The eurozone excludes several member states; the Schengen area does not coincide precisely with EU membership; enhanced cooperation mechanisms permit subsets of states to proceed together in specific policy areas. Germany’s current proposal seeks to generalise this logic, transforming what are presently ad hoc arrangements into an explicit structural principle of European integration. In doing so, Berlin has found a degree of sympathy in Paris, particularly amongst French policymakers who have long favoured a more federal core Europe capable of projecting power and autonomy.

Yet the proposal raises acute anxieties, particularly in Central and Eastern Europe. For states such as Poland, the Baltic republics and prospective members including Ukraine, a two-speed Europe risks formalising a hierarchy within the Union. These countries fear becoming permanently relegated to a second tier, enjoying economic participation without genuine political influence. The concern is not merely symbolic. Decision-making within a core group could, in practice, determine policies that affect all member states, from sanctions regimes to defence postures, while those outside the core would have limited capacity to shape outcomes.

Germany has sought to allay these fears by presenting the two-speed model as dynamic rather than fixed. Membership of the ‘core’ would not be closed; states could accede as their political and economic circumstances permitted. However, this assurance sits uneasily with the lived experience of convergence within the Union. Economic disparities, governance standards and domestic political constraints have proven persistent, and there is a widespread concern that the threshold for entry into the core would gradually rise, not fall. In that scenario, differentiation would harden into stratification.

There is also a constitutional dimension. The European Union is founded upon the principle of equality between member states, however asymmetrical their size or power in practice. Formalising different speeds risks undermining that normative foundation. Smaller states, in particular, have long relied upon the Union’s legal order to amplify their voice and constrain the dominance of larger powers. A two-speed structure could dilute those protections, shifting the balance from law towards power and informal influence.

Germany’s own position is not without tension. She is acutely aware that her advocacy of deeper integration is often interpreted as a desire to institutionalise her economic and political weight. At the same time Berlin remains cautious about assuming overt leadership responsibilities, particularly in defence and security. The result is a proposal that gestures towards greater European capacity without fully resolving who would lead, who would pay, and who would bear the political risk of failure. Critics argue that a two-speed Europe may obscure these unresolved questions rather than answer them.

The external context further complicates the debate. Europe’s strategic environment has deteriorated markedly, with the war in Ukraine exposing both the strengths and limitations of existing EU structures. Germany has rightly concluded that Europe requires faster decision-making and greater military coordination. However the very states most exposed to Russian aggression are those most sceptical of differentiated integration. For them unity is not an abstract virtue but a security imperative. Any institutional reform perceived to weaken that unity is therefore viewed with suspicion, regardless of its administrative logic.

There is also the question of enlargement. The European Union has committed herself, at least rhetorically, to the future membership of Ukraine, Moldova and the Western Balkans. A two-speed Europe could be presented as a solution to enlargement fatigue, allowing new members to join a looser outer circle while integration deepens elsewhere. Yet this risks hollowing out the promise of membership itself. If accession leads only to partial participation then the Union’s transformative power, historically one of her greatest strengths, may be diminished.

Ultimately Germany’s proposal forces Europe to confront a difficult choice. The Union can prioritise uniformity, accepting slower progress in exchange for formal equality and cohesion. Alternatively she can embrace differentiation, risking fragmentation in pursuit of effectiveness. Germany’s argument is that the status quo is no longer viable. Her critics respond that effectiveness achieved at the expense of solidarity may prove illusory.

The debate over a two-speed Europe is therefore less about institutional design than about political trust. It asks whether member states believe that deeper integration, led by a core, would serve the collective interest or entrench existing asymmetries. It also asks whether Germany and her partners are prepared to pair demands for efficiency with genuine commitments to inclusion, redistribution and shared risk. Without that balance a two-speed Europe may not accelerate integration at all, but instead reveal the centrifugal forces already straining the European project.

In this sense, Germany’s proposal is both a warning and an opportunity. It reflects the real pressures facing the European Union, yet it also exposes unresolved questions about power, purpose and belonging. How Europe answers those questions will shape not only her institutional architecture, but her capacity to act as a coherent political entity in an increasingly unforgiving world.