Although I did meet some cynics and scoundrels, I was struck mainly by the idealism and deep sense of responsibility of many EU civil servants, politicians, and activists. They seemed to realize that the success of the European Union is of vital importance not only to Europeans, but also to people around the world. That includes Americans.

This is because the EU, for all its faults, still offers the best, albeit imperfect and certainly incomplete, hope for the kind of democratic transnational government needed to protect ordinary people from extraordinarily powerful financial interests that aren’t confined by borders. As such, it has provided a hopeful model that other regions have considered following. But this model is now in danger. While the effects on the global economy of a failed euro could be devastating, equally destructive would be the failure of EU democracy.

Today, the democratic principles on which the EU have been built are being betrayed in the interest of speed. The sense of urgency is understandable. With financial markets in turmoil and the euro in peril, the European Council has on occasion functioned as a de-facto politburo. It has imposed austerity unilaterally on member countries and forced changes in national governments–in clear opposition to the democratic will of citizens. Lacking official channels to influence policy, citizens who oppose these policies have resorted to street protest.

It is true that the ordinary EU legislative procedure can be painfully slow. Laws take much longer to pass at an EU level than at a national one. But EU democratic decision-making can also be extraordinarily fast and efficient. Changing laws in 27 countries at once is quicker than changing laws in 27 countries individually. Furthermore, when a new country joins the EU, it must align national laws with EU standards. This has led to an astonishingly rapid improvement in both the democratic character and the relevance of laws in former communist counties.

The speed of EU decision-making is therefore not the real issue. The real culprit is the glacial pace of the democratization of the EU. Incomplete democratization, which is linked to incomplete integration, has left the EU vulnerable to outside threats–especially from unregulated global financial markets. Simply put, when the worldwide financial crisis hit, the EU did not have the legal competence to solve its euro-related problems democratically. So the leaders of the most powerful EU member countries, acting via the European Council, have tried to do so undemocratically. This betrayal of democratic principles may temporarily save the euro, but mortally wound the EU itself.

It is easy to forget how truly remarkable the achievements of the EU have been. Before the EU, transnational government was widely seen as either a utopian fantasy or a vehicle for world dictatorship by elites. The EU has proven that a middle ground is possible. Unlike the UN, WTO, IMF, NATO, or G-8, the EU has real transnational power and aspirations to be democratic. This is a first in world history.

Citizens need transnational democracy in these times–when capital can be transferred between countries in a nanosecond, when corporate profits are moved abroad to avoid national taxes, and when corporations routinely pit country against country in the pursuit of friendlier legislation. Countries must band together. But they must do so in a democratic manner.

For a concrete example of the effectiveness of transnational democracy in balancing citizen, environmental, and corporate interests, consider the EU’s 2007 comprehensive chemicals legislation, known as REACH. REACH took a full seven years to pass, but the final legislation is far more protective of public health and the environment than anything ever produced by an international treaty or a regulatory agency like the EPA. Furthermore, because of the EU’s large market size, REACH has a significant impact on the chemical content of products worldwide.

Unfortunately, European elites have traditionally been leery of giving citizens too much power, fearing they might use it to derail European integration. So a strong EU democratic infrastructure–in which citizens elect all key decision-makers, all policies are made transparently, and citizens can propose and influence policy–has been slow in coming. Furthermore, national leaders have been ambivalent about informing their citizens how the EU works. It’s been politically convenient for national politicians to blame the EU for “imposing” unpopular policy that the politicians themselves agreed to pass.

The result is that most EU citizens have no idea how the EU actually works. Many think all EU decisions emerge from a “black box” in Brussels, whether they were arrived at by using relatively democratic methods involving the European Parliament or through undemocratic diplomatic agreements between governments in the European Council. Therefore, the fiscal austerity being imposed “by the EU” on some countries via undemocratic means obscures much of the good that other democratically enacted laws have done. This is a particular problem for Europe because Europeans are relatively well-educated, individualistic, demanding, and distrustful of leaders. Unlike, say, the less well-educated and more culturally compliant Chinese population, they are not content to delegate decision-making authority to distant leaders.

What the Euro crisis has brought to the forefront most urgently is the question of the EU’s ultimate purpose. The EU was launched by a group of elites who, having lived through two European wars, wanted to render a third one impossible. Seeking political union, they started with economic union, leaving many details to future generations. Yet each new generation of leaders has redefined the EU’s purpose and, in the process, speeded up, slowed down, stalled, or sometimes reversed integration. Supporters of political union say that the euro crisis has made it clear that policy areas vital to a shared currency, like fiscal policy, must be handled at an EU-level. Opponents say further integration is either undesirable or politically impossible.

While financial markets will effectively determine the fate of the euro, EU citizens through their choice of elected officials will determine the fate of the EU. At its best, the EU has proven that democracy is not too slow for transnational government and that good laws can result. At its worst, the EU has made poor decisions reached quickly via non-democratic means. Yet, having been kept in the dark for so long, few citizens understand these two sides. That’s why undemocratic decisions made quickly to satisfy financial markets have been so dangerous. The irony is that they’re intended to save the union, but their effect could be precisely the opposite. Resentful EU citizens may now push to abandon what is their best hope for restraining the power of borderless financial and corporate interests. If that happens, not only Europeans will suffer.

Janice Thomson, a speaker at the May 8th Zócalo/Cal Humanities Sacramento event “Is Democracy Too Slow?”, worked in stakeholder and public engagement in European Union public policy in Brussels from 2006-2011. She recently returned to Chicago where she is currently researching public engagement in local government.

*Photo courtesy of quinet.

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When my husband got a transfer to Brussels and we packed up the family, I was scared but also excited. I found a job involving European Union public policy and started a fascinating new career. Our living costs declined and quality of life rose. (We found we were spending a third less than we used to, thanks largely to free education and cheap healthcare.) But our daughter’s English started to slip. She lost touch with American culture. Fearing she’d never feel at home in America if we didn’t go back, we left Brussels and returned to our previous home city of Chicago.

I expected the transition to be difficult, but I didn’t expect America to feel so foreign. These days, when looking at my neighborhood, I sometimes feel as if I’m surveying damage after a storm. “For Rent” signs are as numerous as “For Sale” signs used to be. My hairdresser says she’s “hanging in there” but has abandoned her dream of opening a shoe store. My dentist is still in business, but his office is now staffed by family. The gourmet food shop is gone, as is the pretentious French restaurant. Now there’s a weekly farmers market that accepts food stamps. Neighbors grow vegetables on their front lawn and keep chickens in the back. Cocky confidence has been replaced by a quiet hunkering down.

Only my daughter’s pediatrician seems to be prospering, but my impression may be due to the size of the staff her practice employs. “What on earth do all these people do?” I thought when I took my daughter there recently. One answer: make mistakes in the billing–mistakes that take additional time and staffers to undo. I was quickly knee-deep in health insurance red tape. In Belgium, which has a mixed public and private system, our doctor worked alone out of a simple home office. We paid her cash.

Minutes after my phone was installed, I received the first of a string of automated “welcoming” phone calls from companies, followed by an avalanche of personalized letters selling home security systems, duct cleaning, satellite TV, car insurance, restaurants, and food delivery services. Our phone would ring with scam calls about credit cards I don’t have, calls asking for donations to police officer funds, calls for credit repair services. I wanted to be a good citizen–the sort of person who has a neighborhood map, list of community activities, and instructions for proper recycling on the fridge. But I felt like my country just wanted me to be a good consumer.

When I actually am a consumer, I’m treated like a friend. Gone is “Hello, may I help you?” Now it’s “How are you?” At first, I wondered why these strangers cared and was too surprised to respond. After it happened numerous times, I asked store clerks why they were greeting me this way. The answer: “customer service training.” Waiters introduce themselves by their first names, break into conversations to ask how I’m doing, and sometimes comment on what I’ve left on my plate. Even my family isn’t that intrusive.

It’s not just customer service that’s strangely intimate. People I’ve never met before pepper me with so many questions I feel like I’m being frisked. How did my parents feel about our living in Europe? What do I do for a living? What does my husband do? Where does my daughter go to school? What’s my house like? I’ve wondered if I used to be this way, too. We go deep in our conversations, but without emotional investment. It’s like a conversational one-night stand. Now I understand what foreigners mean when they complain about that American who seemed so interested in learning all about them and then was never heard from again.

Maybe one reason for the rise of personal questions is that the range of neutral conversational topics has become so narrow. It’s as if certain subjects have turned into landmines that I obliviously trip off. When I’m asked what I miss most about Belgium and answer “free, high-quality healthcare and education,” some people take it as a political statement, as if I’m a socialist crusader. Or I’ll mention that I don’t plan to get a car, a statement that provokes, at best, incredulity. In Brussels, you felt guilty if your child went to school by car. At my daughter’s school in Chicago, administrators gave me a parking permit and couldn’t answer any questions about public transportation.

Mostly, though, everyone just seems tired and in need of a good rest. Even on Sundays, people are busy working or consuming: getting haircuts, buying electronics, carting around groceries. We’re a religious country, but we don’t pay much heed to the Sabbath. I’d gotten used to everything being closed on Sunday. We’d just relax and spend time with family and friends. Now, when I wake up Sunday morning, I pretend everything is closed.

I don’t mean to bellyache and find fault with everything. I love our superior public libraries. I love our public radio and television stations. I love our free public water fountains and restrooms. I love wandering around in grocery stores filled with giddy glee as I rediscover the foods of my childhood. Ooh, peanut butter! Wow, graham crackers! Yippee, marshmallows! And most of all I love seeing family and friends.

But I’m still bewildered, still trying to figure out how much America has changed, and how much I’ve changed. Sometimes, I feel like telling my friends to cut me a little slack. If I do something rude, it’s not on purpose. I’ve just forgotten how things work. And my thoughts, I admit, are often about how to hold onto some qualities of the life we had while overseas–the calm, the sense of community. Can any of those things become part of American life, too? The rest of the world has things to teach us, if we’ll let it. I don’t entirely remember what sort of American I was before I left, but perhaps that doesn’t matter so much. The real question is what sort of American I will be now.

Janice Thomson lives in Chicago.

*Photo courtesy of Trent Strohm.

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