The resentment is palpable, and Brussels knows it.
In Montenegro this week, the European Union gathered to confront a question as old as the project itself: how to keep a promise to many when urgency demands you honor it first for one. The Western Balkans — Serbia, Bosnia, North Macedonia, Albania — have waited years at Europe's threshold, reforming and hoping, while Ukraine's war has compressed the timeline of history and moved Kyiv to the front of the queue. Germany and France arrived with proposals meant to soften that asymmetry, offering tangible benefits short of membership to keep the faith of nations who fear their sacrifices are being quietly forgotten.
- Years of painstaking reform by Balkan nations are now overshadowed by Ukraine's war-driven fast-track, and the resentment in Belgrade, Sarajevo, and Skopje is no longer merely diplomatic.
- The Montenegro summit was less a celebration than a rescue operation — EU leaders scrambling to reassure partners that acceleration for Ukraine does not mean abandonment for the Balkans.
- Germany and France proposed accelerated, concrete benefits for Balkan candidates and Moldova, a middle path designed to show movement without making promises on timelines no one can keep.
- Bilateral meetings between Sánchez, Merz, and regional leaders signaled that personal political trust — not just policy frameworks — is being deployed to hold the enlargement coalition together.
- The deeper risk is structural: if the EU's enlargement promise loses credibility in the Western Balkans, the stabilizing force it has provided in a historically volatile region could quietly unravel.
The European Union convened in Montenegro this week to manage a diplomatic tension it can no longer defer: how to fast-track Ukraine's membership without signaling to the Western Balkans that their decade-long wait no longer matters. Countries like Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, North Macedonia, and Albania have spent years reforming institutions and meeting conditions, watching the process move at a bureaucratic crawl. Ukraine's war has now reordered those priorities, and the resentment among long-waiting candidates is palpable — and understood in Brussels.
The summit was, in essence, damage control. EU leaders gathered to reassure Balkan partners that their European future remains real, even as the continent's attention pivots eastward. Ukraine's accelerated accession carries genuine strategic logic — an existential war, a geopolitical imperative, a moment that cannot be wasted. But to nations that have been knocking on the same door for over a decade, the optics are bruising.
Germany and France arrived with a proposal to ease the friction: faster, more tangible benefits for Balkan candidates and Moldova — not membership, but something concrete enough to show citizens that the European path still leads somewhere. The goal is to sustain political will in countries where enlargement fatigue is real and where endless process can erode public support for reform.
Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez and German Chancellor Friedrich Merz both held bilateral meetings with regional leaders — gestures that matter not only as policy signals but as acts of reassurance, the kind of personal engagement that keeps fragile political trust intact.
The deeper question the summit raised is whether the EU can credibly manage two expansion tracks at once. Enlargement has always moved slowly, bound by consensus and internal procedure. Ukraine's war has forced a departure from that caution. But the Western Balkans cannot be left behind — EU integration has been a stabilizing force in a region with a living memory of conflict, and a promise that begins to feel hollow carries its own dangers.
Whether the Franco-German proposal amounts to genuine progress or a consolation prize depends entirely on what those benefits look like in practice and how quickly they arrive. Montenegro was the opening move in a longer negotiation about the shape of Europe to come.
The European Union convened in Montenegro this week to navigate a delicate diplomatic moment: how to keep the Balkan nations moving toward membership while simultaneously fast-tracking Ukraine's path into the bloc. The tension is real. For years, countries like Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, North Macedonia, and Albania have been waiting in the EU's anteroom, meeting conditions, reforming institutions, watching the process crawl forward. Now Ukraine, devastated by war and fighting for survival, is being ushered ahead of them. The resentment is palpable, and Brussels knows it.
The summit itself was an attempt at damage control. EU leaders gathered to reassure the Western Balkans that their European future remains a priority, even as the continent's attention and resources pivot eastward. The message was necessary because the optics are difficult to manage. Ukraine's accelerated accession makes strategic sense—the country is fighting an existential war, its integration into Western structures is a geopolitical imperative, and the momentum matters. But to nations that have been knocking on the EU door for a decade or more, the acceleration can feel like a rebuke, a signal that their own reforms and sacrifices are worth less.
Germany and France, the EU's heavyweight members, came to the table with a proposal designed to ease this friction. They suggested offering faster, more tangible benefits to Balkan candidates and Moldova—not full membership yet, but concrete advantages that would demonstrate progress and commitment. The idea is to create a sense of forward motion, to give these countries something to show their citizens, to prove that the European path is still open and worth pursuing. It's a recognition that enlargement fatigue is real, that the political will in candidate countries can erode if the process feels endless.
Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez met with Montenegro's leadership during the summit, underscoring the bilateral importance of these relationships. German Chancellor Friedrich Merz also held talks with regional leaders, signaling that Berlin remains engaged with the Balkans even as it manages broader European security concerns. These meetings matter because they're not just about policy—they're about reassurance, about maintaining the personal relationships and political trust that keep the enlargement process alive.
What makes this moment significant is the underlying question it raises about the EU's capacity to manage multiple expansion tracks simultaneously. The bloc has always moved slowly on enlargement, bound by its own internal procedures and the need for consensus among member states. Ukraine's war has created urgency that overrides some of that caution. But that urgency cannot come at the cost of destabilizing the Western Balkans, a region where EU integration has been a stabilizing force, where the promise of membership has helped prevent conflict and encouraged democratic reform. If that promise begins to feel hollow, the consequences could ripple through the region for years.
The proposals from Berlin and Paris suggest the EU is trying to thread a needle: accelerate Ukraine's accession without abandoning the Balkans, offer real progress without making false promises about timelines, maintain the credibility of the enlargement process while acknowledging that geopolitical circumstances have changed. Whether that balance holds depends on what those faster benefits actually look like, how quickly they materialize, and whether the Balkan nations see them as genuine progress or merely consolation prizes. The summit in Montenegro was the opening move in what will be a longer negotiation about the EU's future shape and the order in which its neighbors join it.
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The EU is trying to accelerate Ukraine's accession while maintaining credibility of the enlargement process for the Balkans— Editorial analysis of EU strategy
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does it matter so much to the Balkans that Ukraine is moving faster? They've been waiting anyway.
Because waiting is different from being passed over. These countries have spent years meeting EU conditions, reforming their courts, fighting corruption. The signal that Ukraine jumps the line says something about how the EU values their efforts.
But Ukraine is at war. Doesn't that change the calculation?
Of course it does. The EU's logic is sound—Ukraine needs integration as a shield. But logic doesn't always calm political resentment. A prime minister in Tirana or Belgrade still has to answer to voters who wonder why their country's European dream keeps getting postponed.
So Germany and France are offering what, exactly?
Faster benefits short of full membership. Think trade advantages, closer institutional ties, more money. Things that feel like progress without requiring the full consensus vote that membership demands.
Is that enough to keep the Balkans patient?
That's the real question. If the benefits are substantial and visible, maybe. If they feel like scraps, the resentment deepens. The EU is betting it can manage both processes at once. History suggests that's harder than it sounds.
What happens if the Balkans lose faith in the European path?
Then you have a region that's been told for twenty years that stability and prosperity come from joining Europe, suddenly wondering if that was ever true. That's when other powers—Russia, China—find openings. That's when the region becomes unstable again.