Part I: Institutional Framework

The European Union did not begin solely as an economic project: from its origin, it encompassed a strong social dimension. The Preamble of the Treaty of Rome sets out ambitions that go beyond mere market integration (1). The founding Member States declared: “Determined to lay the foundations of an ever-closer union among the peoples of Europe, resolved to ensure the economic and social progress of their countries by common action to eliminate the barriers which divide Europe, affirming as the essential objective of their efforts the constant improvement of the living and working conditions of their peoples.” The Union has its roots in the principles of solidarity and social progress, with the intention to create a community of people rather than merely a space of economic exchange; yet, a tension emerged between the aspiration of a cohesive Europe and the limited competences granted to supranational institutions in the social dimension area. Therefore, understanding what it means to be “culturally European” requires firstly considering how the social dimension is codified by the Union itself.

EU and National Citizenship

Citizenship at the national level is intended as a pre-determined legal bond between an individual and a state: this bond is established on predefined criteria, such as birth or lineage, or on naturalization, which gives a semi-discretionary power to the State. Moreover, national citizenship grants full rights, including the right to have rights, however, it is also inherently exclusionary, drawing a clear boundary between members and non-members. EU citizenship raises the question of whether a Union citizenship is a simple additional cosmetic or it can be the pioneer for the foundation of an officially recognised sense of belonging that exists beyond the nation-state (2).

Initially, the rights obtained under the European Community law were exclusive of economically active individuals, leading to the idea of a “market citizenship”, in which access to rights depended only on participation in the internal market. The introduction of Union citizenship in 1992 demonstrates the ambition to move beyond the exclusionary framework and create a more socially inclusive Union. However, this development did not come without controversy, indeed, the introduction of the supranational citizenship before the adoption, for example, of a supranational welfare state could be interpreted as a way to elude the lack of competence of the Union in key areas in order to create a full, effective social dimension of the Union itself. From a purely legal point of view article 20 of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union formally codifies Union citizenship (3): “1. Citizenship of the Union is hereby established. Every person holding the nationality of a Member State shall be a citizen of the Union. Citizenship of the Union shall be additional to and not replace national citizenship. […] These rights shall be exercised in accordance with the conditions and limits defined by the Treaties and by the measures adopted thereunder.”

EU and National Principles

The “European culture” is shaped not only through measures affecting the economic dimension, but also by the core values and principles upon which the Union is founded. Even though cultures and traditions vary widely across the Continent, acknowledged in the EU motto “United in Diversity“, a common set of principles emerges from the continent’s shared history.

At the EU level, several foundational principles flag the idea of European belonging: Human Dignity, Equality and Non-discrimination, Free Movement, Solidarity, Rule of Law and Democracy, Peace and Rejection of War, etc. These principles are also present in Member States’ national systems, and were codified before the foundation of the Union, although with some differences (4, 5). As an example, we can consider some founding Member States and the principle of Peace & Rejection of War: the EU protects this principle under article 3(1) of the Treaty of the European Union, according to which „The Union's aim is to promote peace, its values and the well-being of its peoples.“, strengthened by art 21(1) that focus on the external action, and the preamble of the EU Charter of Fundamental Rights (4, 5). Under article 11 of the Italian Constitution, Italy explicitly repudiates war “as an instrument of aggression”, having the strongest peace clause of all the other founders (6). Germany, for example, in the Preamble of the Gründgesetz, committed to peace as a founding purpose of the Federal Republic, allowing, under article 87a, armed forces only for defence (7). France, instead, framed peace as a foreign policy objective, having the least restrictive measures compared to Italy and Germany (8).

Although the Member States of the European Union largely share the adoption of a common set of principles, they often interpret and apply these principles in different ways, shaped by their own histories, constitutional traditions and social structures: the role of the European Union is therefore not to erase these national interpretations, but to provide a common legal and normative framework within which they can coexist.

Part II: What Do Students Think About Being “Culturally” European?

Beyond citizenship, institutions and a shared market, European identity is experienced profoundly at a personal level. While directives and regulations define what European life is in theory, they rarely capture how European life feels in practice. To explore this dimension, we turned to a group of people that we, the writers, are part of, and that have a unique and holistic way of experiencing European culture: young EU citizens studying abroad in Europe. We gathered the personal insights of EU students aged 18 to 25, posing them with a deceptively straightforward question: “What does being "culturally" European mean to you?” We aimed to uncover the “Europe” that people feel uncertain about and rarely articulate clearly. In the answers, we found a fragmented identity that shifts with each person’s experience.

General Insights

For some respondents, the idea of a shared European culture was explicitly rejected. One student argued that while Europeans may share institutions, “Italians are Italians, French are French, Germans are Germans,” concluding that there are “not enough common traits” to conceive a single cultural identity. Yet most students went in an opposing direction, recognizing that their culture is commonly shaped by a shared civilization, history and long-lasting legacy. With our shared heritage comes culture as well, ingrained in values, religion and traditions. They reflected upon the values that unite us, like freedoms, justice and rule of law, as well as a historical common goal of ensuring prosperity for people. Several noted that this shared foundation enables Europeans to respect and support the diversity in national cultures, while others emphasised that despite our diversity, geographical closeness ensures a degree of similarity and acceptance..

Some of the insights perfectly captured the “conclusion” of all these experiences: that within European diversity, we unite on common values and goals. As one student put it, being European means “appreciating and understanding the differences in European cultures, but being most proud of your own,” combining a sense of continental connection with strong national belonging. Another echoed this view by suggesting that a “pan-European culture” is less of a historical constant, and more an evolving project that emerged through shared institutions and values. They believe common culture be gradually achieved through a convergence of national cultures, facilitated by mobility, exchange and shared economies.

Values: The European “Glue”

When respondents did point to something shared, they instinctively turned to values. Democracy, human rights, freedom of speech, the rule of law and social welfare were overwhelmingly recognized as what binds Europeans together. This pattern of values over tradition appeared consistently across responses. This raises a critical question: can values alone form a culture? Shared values seem to function as the most cohesive element holding European societies together, providing a normative framework for coexistence despite deep historical and cultural differences. However, if that is the only thing binding us together, then what is often described as “European culture” may be better understood as a broadly liberal-democratic culture that the European Union actively promotes both internally and abroad.

The European Experience

The “European experience” appeared most tangible in everyday practices: open borders, affordable travel, interconnected cities, multilingual environments and the normalization of studying and living abroad. For EU students, mobility is not just a benefit of European integration, but a defining feature of their lives. Together, initiatives such as Schengen and student exchange programs shape the reality of a lived European identity (2). However, opinions differed on issues regarding tolerance and integration of migration, religious diversity and LGBTQ+ rights. While many respondents recognized the EU’s tolerance in principle, their responses revealed uncertainty about how consistently these values are applied across EU countries. This reflects broader political tensions which influence European cohesion, defined by increasing polarization at both national and EU level. When asked about culture in a narrower sense (art, film, fashion, or media), respondents struggled to identify a distinctly European unity. National and global cultures seemed to prevail. One striking exception, however, was sport. Football in particular was described as a shared cultural language across Europe, while also acknowledging European nightlife, festivals and a similar sense of humor.

Ultimately, the responses suggest that being “culturally European” is not a fixed identity, but shared experience, shaped by mobility, values, history and political context. In the end, the existence of European culture remains ambiguous, and is continually shaped by our experiences within the EU borders.

For over three decades after 1989, throughout the European continent, the common thought was that there would never again be a huge war fought on its soil. As a matter of fact, when two major historical events such as the fall of the Berlin Wall and the Soviet Union collapse occurred, they reinforced the idea of a stable, orderly and free Europe. In such a world, not only war and military confrontation were increasingly seen as obsolete since growing economic, diplomatic and institutional independence was expected to prevent the conflict. As a result of this belief, the need for security diminished over time and was outsourced to NATO and primarily, the USA, leaving European states to slack off in their commitments to build and provide their defence resources. Hence, over this period of time, European states were able to utilise the peace dividend of all resources that would otherwise have been committed to defence for welfare, infrastructure and economic development.

Now, the perception that military power and deterrence are core components of the international system has returned to Europe. Russia’s military action against Ukraine, and its far-reaching ramifications, have forced European security structures to re-evaluate the assumptions that underpinned the post-Cold War order. Europe has now been pushed toward a profound strategic reassessment, marked by rearmament, renewed defense investment and a growing emphasis on strategic autonomy (1).

Figure 1: The US still spends more than all its NATO allies; expenditure, based on 2015 prices and exchange rates ($bn).

The Collapse of the European “Peace Dividend”

The “peace dividend” refers to the political and economic benefits European states enjoyed after the Cold War by reducing military expenditure and prioritizing civilian policy areas. Throughout the 1990s and 2000s, defense budgets declined steadily across much of the continent, while the EU focused on market integration, enlargement, and regulatory power. Military force came to be seen as outdated or even incompatible with the European project (2).

The war in Ukraine marked a clear turning point in this mindset. The invasion exposed Europe’s vulnerabilities, from limited ammunition stocks to fragmented defense industries, and highlighted the risks of prolonged underinvestment in military capabilities. As a consequence, deterrence and territorial defense returned to the center of political debate. Germany’s Zeitenwende (the announcement of a €100 billion special defense fund and a commitment to significantly increase military spending) became the most powerful symbol of this shift. For a country historically reluctant to embrace hard power, the move signaled a broader transformation in European strategic culture. Beyond Germany, similar reassessments have taken place across the EU, especially among countries previously skeptical of higher defense spending (3). The collapse of the peace dividend does not imply a rejection of Europe’s pacifist identity, but rather a recognition that peace requires credible defense. The EU now faces the challenge of reconciling its normative foundations with a more realistic understanding of security in an increasingly unstable and contested geopolitical environment.

Strategic Autonomy: From Concept to Necessity

Prior to 2022, the notion of strategic autonomy within the EU was primarily an academic discussion conducted in abstract terms. Some member states (most notably France) advocated greater autonomous capabilities in the fields of defence and security, while others concerned about duplicating NATO functions or weakening transatlantic ties. However, the war in Ukraine fundamentally altered this perspective. Strategic autonomy has evolved from being an optional ambition to now representing the only practical means of establishing the military capability required to provide for future European security. In particular, Europe's heavy dependence on external actors for the majority of its military, energy and defence production capabilities, has made the issue of strategic autonomy a critical priority for Europe at this time. As such, strategic autonomy is now increasingly viewed as the ability to take action in support of European interests when the opportunity arises, rather than simply being isolated from European allies.

This shift has been reflected in concrete initiatives. The EU has expanded existing frameworks such as the Permanent Structured Cooperation (PESCO), the European Defence Fund and, most recently, joint procurement initiatives to strengthen the European defence industrial base. Europe does not view strategic autonomy as a replacement for NATO, but views strategic autonomy as a complementary pillar to the development of European capability which provides credibility within NATO (4). The current understanding of the complementary relationship between strategic autonomy and transatlantic cooperation suggests that these concepts should no longer be viewed as polar opposites, rather, should now be viewed as mutually supportive elements of the future security architecture of Europe.

NATO, Rearmement, and the Return of Collective Deterrence

Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine brought about a major change in NATO’s mission and objectives prioritization. Particularly, it has shifted attention to the coalition’s deterrence and defense posture strengthening. NATO has dramatically increased the number of forces on its eastern flank and improved its capacity to quickly reinforce any Ally under threat, marking the largest reinforcement of its collective defense (5). The Heads of State and Government of the North Atlantic Alliance continue to reaffirm the importance of their transatlantic bond, unity, cohesion, and solidarity at a crucial juncture for security as well as global peace and stability (6). As an implementation measure, Canada and the European Allies increased their NATO defense contributions by 11%, which is expected to now consistently constitute 2% of GDP spending (7). Importantly, this plan presents a sixfold increase from 2014, when only three Allies achieved this goal (7). During the recent NATO Summit in the Hague, the Allies committed to allocating 5% of GDP per year to defense needs and security-related expenditures by 2035 (8).

The security threat is especially affecting the frontline states, including Eastern and Northern European nations. While they cannot directly decide NATO’s priorities, the states can shape and influence the alliance’s plans and funding. On the one hand, the Baltics and Poland push for high readiness and quick reinforcement, both in terms of units who can fight and weapon capacity (9). On the other hand, Nordics are interested in Arctic and High North surveillance and reinforcement lines; particularly, they consider deterrence as bridging together air, sea, land, and cyber forces, not just sending in additional troops (9). Consequently, Bulgaria and Romania urge more attention for the Black Sea region, treating deterrence as an all-encompassing issue (9). One conclusion remains persistent among all Alliance members: “Russia remains a long-term security threat to peace and stability in the Euro-Atlantic area.” (10) The rapid NATO accession of Finland (2023) and Sweden (2024) also supports this security threat perception, thereby reducing strategic ambiguity around Baltic defense (11,12).

Therefore, collective deterrence, in NATO terms, implies that attacking one ally feels like attacking the entire alliance; therefore, the costs are high and the odds of succeeding are low (5, 13) According to NATO, credibility comes from capabilities (i.e., available troops, weapons stocks, and logistics), readiness, and political unity (13).

Defense Investments and the Political Economy of Rearmament

The Europe-wide military and defense spending has increased dramatically. In 2024, the military expenditure figure for Europe, including Russia, is estimated at US$693 billion, indicating a 17% boost (14). Among EU members, defense spending constituted €343bn (approx. 1.9% of GDP), and it is likely to continue rising in 2025-26 (15). Considering non-European NATO countries like Canada, the 2024 number shows spending of more than $482 bn, or 2.02% of their combined GDP (8). This pattern does not only concern numbers but also a procurement shift to immediately available capacity. This includes ammunition and stockpile supply, air and missile defense, and readiness in the form of maintenance, mobility, training, and communication (16). A vivid example of this adjustment is Germany, as it recently approved €50bn in defense contracts that incorporate uniforms, drones, satellites, and general air defense (17). However, bigger budgets do not automatically mean they are usable, as Europe has hit a tough industrial demand limit. During a high-intensity war, the need for ammunition is greater than the peacetime production capacity (18). For this reason, the EU has pushed for cooperative expansion initiatives like ASAP, which aims to reach the production of about 2 million artillery shells per year by the end of 2025 (18). This goes additionally with NATO’s efforts to coordinate demand and increase production capacity.

Conclusion

The 2022 full-scale invasion of Ukraine by Russia contributed majorly to Europe’s shift from security as a background issue to it becoming a permanent policy priority. In the new framework, NATO and strategic autonomy complement each other, with the former serving as a means of collaboration and ensuring collective defense, while the latter establishes an industrial and military base that enhances Europe's credibility within the alliance. With budgets raised, the primary challenge remains the capacity to implement the promises: air defense, readiness, workforce, and long-lasting operations. The alliance’s success and Europe’s future as a leader largely depend on the ability to institutionalize these defense tendencies, going beyond one-time funding. This includes long-term commitments, alliance strengthening, and collective procurement.

Europe has steadily reduced greenhouse gas emissions over the past three decades, but the pace and ambition of its climate policy have intensified sharply in recent years. Based on data reported by Member States to the European Environment Agency and ECB calculations, the EU has already surpassed its original 2020 target and is now moving toward much lower emission levels, in line with the Fit for 55 objective for 2030 and the longer-term goal of climate neutrality by 2050 (see Figure 1) (1). These targets highlight the scale and urgency of Europe’s low-carbon transition.

Figure 1. Source: European Central Bank (2024), “Assessing the macroeconomic effects of climate change transition policies”, ECB Economic Bulletin, Focus Article. (1)

At the centre of this process stands the EU Emissions Trading System (ETS), which has become the Union’s main market-based instrument for decarbonisation (2). By putting a price on emissions, the ETS has contributed to a sustained decline in emissions over time. However, the economic impact of this system has not been uniform, making the broader macroeconomic consequences of this transition on firms still unclear. Differences in industrial structure, financial capacity, and regional development mean that not all firms and regions face the transition on equal terms. Understanding how these emission reductions translate into firms’ behaviour and broader economic outcomes requires examining how the evolving design of the EU ETS has shaped firms’ effective exposure to carbon pricing, and how this has influenced their incentives to invest in the decarbonisation of production across sectors and regions.

From Carbon Prices to Economic Outcomes: Firms, Costs, and Heterogeneity Under the ETS

At its core, the EU ETS is a cap-and-trade system: a fixed number of emission allowances is issued each year, firms must surrender one allowance per tonne of CO₂ emitted, and the market price of allowances represents the carbon cost faced by firms at the margin (2). However, for most of its history, this carbon cost was only partially borne by firms, as the system relied heavily on free allocation of allowances, especially for industrial sectors deemed at risk of carbon leakage (3). By shielding large parts of industry from paying the full allowance price, free allocation weakened firms’ effective exposure to carbon costs, dampened production and investment incentives, and shaped the uneven distribution of adjustment costs across sectors and regions.

This historical context explains much of the early empirical evidence on firm-level performance. A peer-reviewed article published in the Journal of Environmental Economics and Management by researchers at the OECD and the London School of Economics finds that between 2005 and 2012 emissions in regulated installations fell by about 10%, while regulated firms experienced 15% higher revenues, 8% higher fixed assets, and no statistically significant decline in employment (4). These results reflect the specific environment of the early ETS years, characterised by relatively low allowance prices, extensive free allocation, and the ability of some sectors—most notably electricity generation—to pass through the opportunity cost of allowances into output prices even when permits were received for free. Under these conditions, firms were able to expand investment and productivity while facing only limited direct exposure to carbon costs.

However, this evidence is closely tied to the institutional design of the ETS in its early phases. Throughout Phases I and II, and well into Phase III, free allocation often exceeded verified emissions at the aggregate level, effectively insulating firms from the carbon price. Data from the European Environment Agency show that between 2008 and 2012 the net carbon cost faced by industrial sectors was close to zero—or even negative—reflecting systematic over-allocation of allowances (3). Even after auctioning was introduced in Phase III, industrial installations continued to receive substantial free permits through benchmark-based allocation, while aviation remained particularly protected. This persistent shielding helps explain why early micro-level studies found little evidence of negative effects on output or employment.

The macroeconomic relevance of carbon pricing becomes clearer once allowance prices rise and free allocation is reduced. In a policy analysis published in the ECB Economic Bulletin (2023), the European Central Bank uses a suite of macroeconomic models to simulate a more stringent carbon-pricing trajectory for the euro area (5). The simulations indicate that higher carbon prices feed through to the real economy via higher energy and intermediate‑input costs, leading to a small but persistent slowdown in output and a modest increase in energy prices and headline inflation. A follow‑up ECB focus piece in 2024 underlines that the low‑carbon transition is changing how energy price shocks propagate, making inflation more exposed to cost increases rooted in production costs and raising the risk of greater inflation volatility during the transition phase (1).

Recent empirical macroeconomic research reinforces this shift in perspective. A peer-reviewed IMF Economic Review article by Känzig and Konradt (2024), based on high-frequency identification of regulatory shocks in the EU carbon market, shows that increases in ETS prices lead to higher consumer and producer prices, a significant decline in industrial production, lower GDP, and a persistent increase in unemployment (6). These effects are substantially stronger than those associated with national carbon taxes, which typically apply to less energy-intensive sectors and are often accompanied by revenue recycling. Crucially, the authors show that the economic impact of the ETS depends not only on the carbon price itself, but also on how allowances are allocated and the degree of cost passthrough in energy markets. These mechanisms are reflected in the comparative evidence reported in Figure 2, where both the ECB and the IMF estimate a similar macroeconomic profile: lower GDP relative to baseline, a mild upward shift in inflation, and sizable emission reductions (5,6).

Figure 2. Source: European Central Bank (2023), “The macroeconomic implications of the transition to a low-carbon economy”, ECB Economic Bulletin. (5)

Heterogeneity emerges as a central feature of these dynamics. A VoxEU article published by CEPR researchers highlights that carbon pricing operates as an asymmetric shock across European regions (7). Regions with a high concentration of energy-intensive industries—such as parts of Poland, Eastern Germany, Czechia, and Northern Italy—face significantly higher exposure to rising carbon costs per unit of GDP. These regions are more vulnerable to output losses and labour-market adjustments because their economic structure offers fewer alternatives to carbon-intensive production. In contrast, service-oriented regions with cleaner energy mixes experience much milder adjustment pressures. The IMF study confirms and refines this picture (6). Although the ETS applies uniformly across member states, countries differ substantially in their effective exposure. Those receiving a larger share of free allowances experience weaker pass-through of carbon costs into energy prices and smaller declines in output and employment. By contrast, countries with highly concentrated electricity markets face stronger cost pass-through, sharper increases in prices, and more pronounced employment effects. Interestingly, the strongest contractionary effects are not observed in the poorest European economies, but rather in middle-income industrial countries that receive fewer free allowances while remaining heavily dependent on energy-intensive production.

This heterogeneity is not accidental but deeply rooted in the political economy of the ETS. Throughout Phases I–III, the carbon leakage list expanded to include almost all energy-intensive manufacturing sectors, often not because empirical evidence warranted it but because of perceived competitiveness risks amplified through political channels and industry pressure. A meta-analysis by Branger and Quirion (2014) (8) found little evidence of significant short-term carbon leakage, yet by Phase III around 98% of industrial emissions were covered by leakage-listed sectors receiving high levels of free allocation (3). The European Court of Auditors later concluded that free allocation in industry and aviation was poorly targeted and may have slowed decarbonisation. These choices muted the carbon price signal and delayed adjustment, particularly outside the power sector, which moved to full auctioning in 2013 and achieved much faster emission reductions (9).

As Europe tightens its climate targets and allowance prices rise to historically high levels, these design features matter more than ever. The early ETS years show that carbon pricing can coexist with stable firm performance when effective cost exposure is low. The current phase, however, reveals a different reality: once free allocation declines and carbon prices become binding, the transition generates uneven effects on production, prices, and employment across sectors and regions.

Rethinking Incentives in Europe’s Green Transition

Europe’s decarbonisation strategy has proven effective in reducing emissions, but its macroeconomic consequences depend critically on how carbon pricing is designed and implemented. These historical choices matter for today’s macroeconomic analysis. As the emissions cap tightens under the Fit for 55 package and free allocation is gradually unwound—partly replaced from 2026 by the Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism (CBAM), which extends the EU carbon price to imports of emissions-intensive goods—the distribution of costs across firms and regions will shift markedly.

The European Commission’s proposal to cut net emissions by 90% by 2040 further intensifies this structural transition, rendering carbon pricing even more impactful for economic outcomes (10). While higher and more credible carbon prices can reward firms already investing in low-carbon technologies, they also risk placing disproportionate pressure on energy-intensive regions unless compensatory and investment-oriented policies are carefully designed. The central challenge ahead is therefore not climate ambition itself, but ensuring that Europe’s path to decarbonisation remains economically sustainable and regionally balanced.

Same sea, same sun, similar food, similar problems. Whenever Europe enters a period of tension, Spain and Italy tend to align. Not out of affinity, but out of shared exposure. Over the past two years, this alignment has hardened. While Berlin debates rules and Paris posture, Spain and Italy manage consequences: migration routes that never close, inflation that bites harder where wages are lower, and a public mood increasingly allergic to long, expensive commitments abroad. So what exactly is the Spain–Italy relationship today?

The Short Answer

It is not an alliance and certainly not a bloc. Madrid and Rome do not share ideology, leadership style, or a common vision of Europe. What they do share is vulnerability: economic, political, and geographic. And an instinct to limit damage rather than set direction. This instinct explains both their cooperation and their hesitations.

Migration: Cooperation without Illusions

Migration is the file where alignment is least optional. Italy absorbs arrivals through Lampedusa; Spain manages pressure through the Western Mediterranean and the Canary Islands. In 2023, over 8,000 people arrived on Lampedusa in a single week (1). That same year, arrivals to the Canary Islands exceeded 39,000, many on routes so long that sinking rarely make headlines (2). Different routes, same outcome: overcrowded centres, local backlash, and an EU sympathy with a short shelf-life (3). Italy chose confrontation: restricting NGO vessels and threatening port closures. Spain chose delegation: relying heavily on Morocco to stop departures, even after the deadly Melilla fence incident in 2022 (4). The styles differ; the objective does not. Both want migration treated as a European responsibility, not a Mediterranean punishment. The EU Pact on Migration and Asylum formalised what Rome and Madrid already knew: solidarity is fickle (5, 6, 7, 8).

Ukraine: Where Hesitation Becomes Policy

If migration forces cooperation, Ukraine exposes convergence of a less flattering kind. Public support in both Spain and Italy for backing Ukraine “until victory” has declined steeply. Majorities increasingly favour a negotiated end. Even if that means concessions (8, 9). This is not moral collapse. It is structural fatigue. Both countries start from a lower baseline of hawkishness. Military engagement has never played well domestically. Add inflation, stagnant wages, and intense political fragmentation, and foreign aid becomes an easy sacrifice. Populist parties amplify the doubt; mainstream parties manage it. Distance matters too. Not ethically, but psychologically. The war feels tragic, but not existential. The result is a familiar pattern: firm statements, shrinking patience, and support framed as conditional rather than principled (10).

A Partnership of Limits

Spain and Italy are not trying to lead Europe. They are trying to endure it. Their cooperation is pragmatic, quiet, and defensive, shaped less by ambition, more by constraint. On migration, they absorb. On Ukraine, they hesitate. On economics, they negotiate exceptions. This is not betrayal. But it is not leadership either. In Brussels, alliances are often born from shared weakness rather than shared vision. And Spain and Italy know exactly where the limits are.