IN 30 SECONDS
- What has happened? Germany formalizes a proposal to eliminate the national veto in the EU’s foreign policy and adopt qualified majority voting (12 member states) in sanctions, defense and common declarations.
- Who is behind? The German Foreign Minister, Johann Wadephul, with the explicit backing of the CDU and Paris’s tacit complicity.
- What impact does it have? The reform would diminish the power of dissidents such as Hungary, accelerate the EU’s response to crises, and compel Spain to define its margin of autonomy on a board where it will no longer be able to hide behind the veto of others.
The proposal launched by Berlin is not a trial balloon. The head of German diplomacy, Johann Wadephul, has placed before the Twenty-Seven the most ambitious — and explosive — reform of the EU’s foreign policy governance since the Lisbon Treaty. His immediate objective is to break the knot that has allowed a single member state, usually Hungary, to block sanctions against Russia, packages of military aid to Ukraine, or statements that require swiftness and muscle. Wadephul argues that a qualified majority — twelve countries representing at least 65% of the EU’s population — would suffice to decide. The logic is compelling: without reform, the Union will remain exposed to internal blackmail every time the Kremlin finds an ally with veto rights.
The initiative does not come by accident. The context is a war in Ukraine that has already surpassed two years, a transatlantic standoff with the Trump administration — which demands Europe commit 5% of GDP to defense — and the certainty that the next EU budget cycle will be pierced by military urgency. As CDU sources consulted by Moncloa.com note, «Wadephul wants to bury the veto before Hungary and Slovakia block the fourteenth sanctions package. The window closes in 2027, coinciding with Hungary’s presidency of the Council, and Berlin knows it».
Why is Germany pushing for a reform that has been on the table for decades?
The debate is not new. Already in the 2002 Convention on the Future of Europe there was talk of extending qualified majority voting to the Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP). But the novelty is Berlin’s alignment — historically a proponent of consensus — with the French thesis of an Europe that acts as a power. The war in Ukraine has transformed the calculation: unanimity has become an existential hindrance. A member state not only blocks sanctions: it can delay for months a military training mission, a joint purchase of ammunition or a condemnation declaration. The strategic cost is enormous.
Wadephul, a pragmatic Atlanticist within the CDU, has managed to sell the reform with an argument that resonates in Washington: the EU needs speed and deterrence capability without asking permission from each capital. At the same time, it moves away from the specter of a Berlin-Moscow axis that some think tanks, such as the SWP, have identified as a risk if Germany does not distance itself from the Kremlin.
What would change with a qualified majority in foreign policy?
Today, the general rule for the CFSP is unanimity. There are exceptions: the so-called ‘passerelle’ clauses allow, in theory, moving to qualified majority if the European Council decides unanimously. But that path requires precisely what is being eliminated: unanimous consent. The German proposal seeks a direct reform of the Treaty on the European Union (TEU) to enshrine majority voting as the default rule in foreign policy decisions that do not involve the use of military force. The small print includes a safeguard so that measures with direct military implications continue to require consensus, something that reassures countries like Ireland, Austria or Malta, attached to neutrality.
In practice, twelve countries totaling 65% of the European population — Germany, France, Italy and Spain together already nearly reach that threshold — could impose sanctions, approve civilian missions, adopt common positions at the United Nations, or authorize the shipment of military equipment to a third country without Budapest or Bratislava blocking it. The shift in power is so profound that many diplomats doubt it will go forward without a crisis that precipitates it. ‘Another shock will be needed, perhaps a gas supply cut or an incident in the Baltic,’ a European Council source says.
The veto by a single country is no longer a democratic counterweight: it is a tool of geostrategic blackmail that paralyzes the EU while the world moves at a faster pace.
Balance of Power
The German initiative cannot be read only as a push against Hungary. It is a move on a three-track board. First, Berlin sends Moscow a message: the EU is willing to harden its foreign policy so that no Kremlin ally — by action or omission — can block it. Second, it signals to Washington that Europe is bearing part of the cost of deterrence, even at the institutional level, amid tensions over NATO’s distribution and the 5% of GDP demanded by Donald Trump. Third, it sets the ground against Paris: if France wanted a geopolitically engaged Europe, Germany hands it the tools with a German stamp.
For Spain, the impact is more ambivalent than it seems. The Moncloa government has always supported greater European integration and has historically backed the abolition of the veto in fiscal or immigration policy, albeit with safeguards for sovereignty. However, in foreign policy the veto has served as a shield to protect sensitive interests: from Kosovo recognition to Cuba relations, including Western Sahara. Without the right to block, Spain will be forced to build majorities rather than simply threaten a veto, a task that requires more diplomatic muscle and less complacency. Foreign Ministry sources consulted by Moncloa.com acknowledge that the reform could shorten decision times on sanctions against Russia, but warn that in other forums — such as the relationship with Morocco — the loss of unilateral veto introduces a dose of uncertainty.
The historical precedent that helps explain Wadephul’s bet is the introduction of qualified majority in the Common Commercial Policy in the 1990s. Then, Paris and Berlin forced the change to speed up Uruguay Round negotiations of the GATT, arguing that unanimity slowed trade deals. It worked. Trade became an exclusive competence and the EU gained global influence. The parallel with defense is imperfect — security remains a national responsibility — but the logic is similar: if Europe wants to be a strategic actor, it needs a decision-making system that does not depend on the slowest or the most coercible country.
Nevertheless, treaty reform faces monumental obstacles. It requires unanimity of the Twenty-Seven to start the revision process, and then ratification by all national parliaments, which in some cases — Ireland, Denmark — may require referendums. The most likely scenario is progress via reinforced cooperation: a group of States willing to integrate their foreign policy and allow a majority of them to decide, leaving the door open for others to join later. What Wadephul has put on the table is not a project with an expiry date, but a strategic horizon for an EU that either reforms or resigns itself to irrelevance.
We see two risks. The first, that the proposal reinforces the dissident axis: Hungary and Poland — despite differences between Orbán and Tusk — could pool their influence to avoid losing weight. The second, that the negotiations drag on and end up dissolving into a minimal common denominator. The upcoming Granada informal summit, in October, will be the first real test: if Germany can secure at least fifteen states to back the opening of the constitutional debate, the veto’s taboo in foreign policy will have fallen forever.
