Six-member Core Europe: a bad good idea

In the ever-evolving theatre of European politics, Germany has once again taken the stage with a proposal that sounds like a plot twist from a bureaucratic thriller. Enter the “E6,” a core group of six leading EU economies – Germany, France, Poland, Spain, Italy, and the Netherlands – championed by German Finance Minister Lars Klingbeil and his French counterpart, Roland Lescure.

Unveiled in late January 2026 amid a video conference that felt more like a Zoom happy hour for fiscal heavyweights, the idea is to create a “two-speed” Europe. The E6 would bypass the EU’s glacial consensus model, where every decision requires the nod from all 27 members, to accelerate progress on defence cooperation, capital markets union, euro strengthening, and securing critical raw materials.

The motives? Pure pragmatism laced with urgency. With geopolitical storm clouds gathering – Russia’s shadow lingering, China’s economic might flexing, and a potentially isolationist America under Trump 2.0 – the duo argues that the EU’s decision-making paralysis is a luxury Europe can no longer afford. Klingbeil, at a Berlin event, declared it “time for differentiated integration,” envisioning the E6 as a pacemaker for the bloc’s sluggish heart. These six nations, accounting for about 70% of the EU’s GDP, would lead the charge, inviting others to tag along later. It’s sold as a booster shot for sovereignty and competitiveness, a way to make Europe less dependent on external powers and more nimble in a multipolar world.

Map of the proposed Two-Speed Europe; Under Germany's invitation, six EU states dubbed "E6" have just agreed to fast-track integration on economy and defence without waiting for the unanimity of the rest of the EU pic.twitter.com/ZIZmVdkDAi
— Mariska den Eelden 🇪🇺🇳🇱 (@eeldenden) January 29, 2026

Who could argue with that?

At first glance, the allure is undeniable. And beautiful as a six-blade knife. Efficiency in EU decision-making? Sign me up! The current system, where a single veto from Budapest or The Hague can derail continent-wide initiatives, often looks like a killer switch embedded in the EU software. A streamlined core could cut through the red tape, fostering quicker deals on defence procurement or raw material supply chains. In an era of hybrid threats and economic warfare, a faster Europe might just be the tonic needed to keep the union from unravelling like a cheap sweater.

But peel back the layers, and the geopolitical signals this sends are as subtle as a foghorn in a library. To the world – and crucially, to the EU’s own periphery – the E6 whispers that the union has bitten off more than it can chew. After decades of enlargement, from the original six to today’s 27, this core suggests a tacit admission: we’ve expanded too much, time to slim down.

Geographically, it fractures the map into a triptych of unease. There’s the shiny E6 nucleus in the west and center; the pragmatic Nordics – Sweden, Finland, Denmark and the Baltics – already eyeing tighter integration among themselves; and then the sprawling southern and central expanse, from Hungary through Romania down to Greece and Cyprus. This “third Europe” is a patchwork quilt of divergent interests, less inclined to cozy up in harmony.

Take the Visegrad Group as a cautionary tale: Poland, Czechia, Slovakia, and Hungary’s alliance has sputtered like a vintage Lada, derailed by electoral mood swings and clashing capitals. One election cycle, they’re united against Brussels; the next, they’re at each other’s throats. This vast territory? We might dub it “Macedonia” – not the ancient empire of Alexander, but the fruit salad, a tutti-frutti mishmash of flavors that clash more than complement. Handing such division on a silver platter would be a geopolitical bonanza for adversaries: a gift-wrapped invitation for Putin (or his successor) to meddle in the east, Erdogan (or his) to stir the Mediterranean pot, and Xi to exploit economic fissures with Belt and Road baits.

Moreover, the E6 itself is a study in inconsistency, a club where the members might not even agree on the dress code. Spain and Poland sit at opposite poles on migration – Madrid’s more open arms versus Warsaw’s fortified borders – or defence, with varying commitments to NATO spending. Even the Franco-German engine chugs unevenly: witness the Mercosur trade deal, where France frets over Amazon deforestation and beef imports, while Germany eyes export bonanzas for its auto giants.

Such rifts dwarf those between, say, Poland and Romania, who share more in historical scars and security anxieties. And why isolate Belgium? Is it petty payback for Prime Minister Bart De Wever’s principled stand against confiscating Russian assets? Excluding Denmark, meanwhile, is like dangling Arctic bait before a resurgent Trump or his veep JD Vance – eager as ever to grab Greenland, and possibly also Iceland and Svalbard.

Yet, let’s end on a constructive note, lest we descend into pure pessimism. Europe does need a core, or rather it consist of a core of 27-strong union, bolstered by a vibrant periphery of candidates – not just the eastern hopefuls like Ukraine, Moldova and the Western Balkans, but potential northern and western expansions.

Better decision-making demands not exclusionary cliques, but superior proposals that unite rather than divide, emerging from the Berlaymont’s halls without the current whiff of discord. After all, it was Germany and France who handpicked the current Commission leadership. Perhaps a hearty mea culpa from Berlin and Paris would serve better than dismantling the edifice built over decades. In the end, Europe’s strength lies in its messy inclusivity, not a polished but perilous elite. Let’s not trade unity for speed – lest we crash.

Caption: German Finance Minister Lars Klingbeil (L) and French Finance Minister Roland Lescure (R) arrive to speak to the media during the Eurogroup finance ministers attend a meeting in Brussels, Belgium, 19 January 2026. EPA/OLIVIER HOSLET