At a time when the European Commission has proposed a 15 percent cut in natural gas use across the bloc – to help deal with the winter ration in vulnerable states such as Germany, Slovakia and the Czech Republic – countries that are more confident they can to soften the blow. . The unkind words were aimed at Berlin, whose decision to rely heavily on Moscow for its fuel and to shut down its nuclear reactors now looks ill-advised. What followed is a compromise between EU governments that maintains the primary goal of reducing energy and the idea that spare gas should be shared with those in need, but also includes so many exceptions that the actual outcome is unclear. Pessimists and skeptics have concluded that this is more proof that EU solidarity is an empty concept and that the bloc will never be more than a market for goods and services. Optimists point to a commitment by EU states to do their best to help gas-starved members through bilateral deals when the worst of the energy crisis unfolds. The reality is that with each new shock, the EU is moving down the arduous path towards a more coherent and collective approach. “The EU has gone through many crises in a short period of time, there is a lot to learn, a lot to absorb,” says Maria Demertzi, interim director of the Brussels-based think tank Bruegel. To be sure, solidarity is not usually the first reaction from EU capitals. The bloc did not bask in glory either in the early months of the Covid-19 pandemic, when some of its members, including Germany, imposed export bans on medical supplies. In 2015, a scheme to ensure migrants from war-torn Syria would be distributed across the bloc to ease pressure on Mediterranean frontline states largely failed. It took time—and for Greece, Portugal, Italy and Spain a lot of financial hardship—to contain the eurozone debt crisis. But it is unrealistic to expect otherwise. EU solidarity is and will remain “second-rate”, meaning it comes after what binds a nation, Sophie Pornschlegel, senior policy analyst at the European Policy Center, wrote in a 2021 paper. “It is based on reciprocity and self-interest,” agrees Anke Hassel, Professor of Public Policy at the Hertie School in Berlin. “There’s always a reluctance, at first, to go in.” “The concept of solidarity is always evoked in crises, usually by a member state that needs help,” says Hassel. “They pull that paper and then the questions come: is this a problem of their own making, can they deal with it themselves? Solidarity only happens if one member state’s problem is so big that it affects the others.” Germany, whose economy could shrink by as much as 3 percent if Russia halts its gas exports, is now in the humbling position of having to plead for solidarity. Predictably, the criticism it has faced over its energy choices is tinged with resentment rooted in the uncompromising way Berlin handled the fate of Greece and other indebted southern states during the eurozone crisis. “These were growing pains, even if the Greeks were on the sidelines,” says Demertzi, who is herself Greek. “It turns out that Germany’s energy policy choice is not helpful, but if Germany goes into recession, the whole EU will follow.” And many times the EU has also surprised with its ability to rise to the occasion. The bloc has imposed sanctions against Russia for its invasion of Ukraine. The supply of Covid-19 vaccines and the €800 billion post-pandemic recovery fund are other strong examples. But it also points to a fundamental weakness: much depends on the political will of EU leaders, and therefore on who is in power, says Pornschlegel. “In this age of permacrasis, we don’t necessarily implement permanent cohesion mechanisms.” Hassel is more optimistic. “The world has become much more interdependent, these moments of solidarity happen more often, and as it does, the EU’s solidarity packages will become more substantial,” he says. “It will be a gradual process.”