After a dozen years of Eurosclerosis, a European revival was ready in 1985 to transform the European Communities. With the aim of creating an internal (or single) market without internal frontiers by the end of 1992, the new Commission presided over by Frenchman Jacques Delors launched a very important legislative programme which was to be adopted in 8 years and which succeeded in convincing the member states to modify the founding treaties of the 1950s. Accordingly, the Single European Act (SEA) was signed in 1986 and entered into force in 1987. The single market programme (SMP) captivated the minds of Europeans and had a lasting influence on the construction of Europe. We will examine several crucial questions in this chapter. What did the SMP and the SEA consist of? What was the motivation behind the will to complete the internal market? What was the outcome? How and in what way has the SMP had a lasting influence on the construction of Europe? Where are we today, almost 30 years after the supposed completion of the internal market?

In both France and the United States, the ascendance in the late 1780s and early 1790s of a version of constitutional popular sovereignty oriented around disembodied representation laid the foundation for the abrupt invention of an alternative, absolutist understanding of “the people’s” authority in 1792-1793. Known as democracy, that absolutist conception simultaneously energized and destabilized each polity by demanding embodied, iconic formulations of “the people.” The resultant political muddle in the second half of the 1790s partially obscured institutional innovations critical to the turn-of-the-century reconciliation of disembodied representation and democratic absolutism. With Napoleon’s rise to power and the election of Thomas Jefferson to the presidency, democratic absolutism flourished. The analogous relationship between developments in France and the United States in the 1790s and early nineteenth century stemmed in part from the diffusionary dynamics of the French Revolution. Diffusionary forces would not have registered so powerfully, however, if residents of the United States had not been prepared for them by their prior investment in monarchy. Developments in the early American republic tracked closely to successive French revolutionary phases because absolutist principles, habits, and hopes continued to animate large numbers of people long after the adoption of the Constitution.

Chapter Seventeen provides an ambitious synthesis of many of the concepts and authors addressed earlier in the volume in order to argue for two intertwining genealogies of modern fiction: on the one hand, the historical and social novel, and on the other, the Gothic, fantastic tales, and other non-realist literary forms. All these genres and forms encode questions of uneven development and often also express a sense of historical and epistemological disorientation. The chapter opens with examples of crossovers between fiction and other artforms to show the rich variety of forms and their influence on European culture. It then looks at cross-border influences and on individual nations’ different material conditions. Romanticism inherited and transformed a series of existing forms and themes, including travel literature, the epistolary novel, the Gothic, and the picaresque, into new forms, including the Bildungsroman, the fragment, the tale, and novella. These reflect an intense self-consciousness regarding historical time and place, even when they appear most ahistorical.

The topsy-turvy and complicated revolutionary politics of the late eighteenth century is nowhere better illustrated than in the history of Geneva. Intermittent popular rebellion erupted in 1707, the 1730s, the 1760s, the early 1780s and 1790s. This led to speculation about whether the Protestant Rome would meet its end through civil war. Alternatively, one of its rapacious and imperially-minded neighbors, the monarchies of France or Savoy, might devour the republic, ensuring that Geneva followed so many of the continent’s lesser states into oblivion. This chapter provides an overview of the history of Geneva and explains its role in the Age of Revolutions especially through the events of 1782, which saw a popular rebellion put down by invading troops from France, Savoy, and Bern. A significant exile diaspora followed. Some of the exiles who advocated republicanism at Geneva opposed it in France. Although revolution could be attempted at Geneva, this did not mean it would work elsewhere. The age of revolutions was full of fractures, with political stances complicated by the legacy of small state failure and the inability of revolutionaries to establish stable states capable of defending themselves militarily.

This essay analyzes a central problem of both the U.S. and Haitian revolutions: namely, establishing governments based on enlightened principles, while maintaining economies dependent on Atlantic plantation regimes. The unique contours of this predicament in revolutionary Saint-Domingue had significant consequences for the United States. Like their North American peers, leaders in the French colony were committed to the production of plantation commodities. But in contrast to the United States, slavery was abolished, and citizenship granted to black men. During the 1790s, free and enslaved observers in North America tried to discern what each stage of the Haitian revolutionary experiment portended for the future of slavery, emancipation, black citizenship, and the economy in the United States. With independence in 1804, Haiti became a beacon for people of African descent, in part, because the new nation renounced the plantation regime, concluding that it was incompatible with universal freedom and citizenship. But most white North American rulers actively resisted this conclusion—and the Haitian example—for decades, until the paradox of a slaveholding republic reached its breaking point in the U.S. Civil War.

The revolutionary processes that led to the dissolution of the Spanish colonial empire in the Americas formed an entangled process. The states that emerged from these processes built their new national identities around the heroes and the deeds of the independence period from roughly 1760-1830. These hero myths are still important markers of identity today. The chapter explores the main interpretations of Spanish American independence, presents conflicting periodizations, and then discusses the events from the crisis of the empire, colonial reactions to the different phases of independence (1810-1814 and 1814-1830). Finally, it demonstrates that many revolutionary promises remained unfulfilled. Everywhere in the Spanish possessions the motivation for revolution was the problem of legitimacy arising from the French invasion of the Iberian Peninsula. The individual experiences of revolution, however, were very different and ranged from popular uprisings to elite-led exchanges of ruling oligarchies. The ethnic dimension, which overlapped with the social problem, was a unique feature of the Spanish American revolutions of independence. It contributed to boosting the ideas of freedom, equality and self-determination. Until 1830 and long after, this explosive force could not yet unfold. What remained was the promise of the revolution.

When the German national parliament, the Bundestag, held a ceremony to commemorate the seventieth anniversary of the end of the Second World War on 8 May 2015, the historian Heinrich August Winkler was asked to deliver the main address. In his speech, Winkler confirmed the central role of National Socialism and the Holocaust for German national identity. Germany’s responsibility for genocide and war meant, seventy years after the events, a special responsibility toward Israel, and for the states of east-central and eastern Europe, which had suffered most terribly under German occupation, and for the European Union project as a project of peace and reconciliation in a continent where German hypernationalism had brought destruction on a hitherto unprecedented scale.

The history of Central America during the Age of Atlantic Revolutions poses a conundrum. Between 1808 and 1821, the kingdom of Guatemala failed to display any sustained or widespread opposition to the Spanish colonial order. This apparent lack of engagement with the Atlantic revolutionary experience suggests that the colony was an anomaly in an empire that witnessed multiple examples of revolutionary sentiment. However, like the majority of the Spanish Empire, the isthmus did not confront the political chaos produced by the collapse of the Bourbon monarchy with either equanimity or unanimity. Here, as elsewhere, peninsular authorities hunkered down in a defensive stance, fearing both foreign subversion and creole pretensions. Here, as elsewhere, local grievances flared into ill-defined uprisings and regional interests gained ground against the metropolitan and colonial capitals. Here, as elsewhere, opportunists manipulated the crisis to advance personal agendas, while idealists sought to sow the seeds of real revolution among the wider population. Yet, here, as elsewhere, a popular majority failed to mobilize against the established order and preferred to either keep faith with colonial institutions or hold out hope for the possibility of imperial reform until independence became the only viable option.

In October 1949, the Belgian-American economist Robert Triffin recalled the signing of the Bretton Woods Agreements of July 1944. From a luxurious hotel in the secluded forests of New Hampshire, the world had aimed to stabilise the international economic system by creating a new rules-based global monetary order. At the time, the financial experts of continental Europe had little to say in bringing about this new order, which was predominantly of Anglo-American design. In a parallel effort to the Anglo-American financial experts, most notably John Maynard Keynes and Harry D. White, Europe’s leaders envisioned the post-war monetary system differently. They deliberated ‘regional monetary groups’ that should tie in with a ‘skeleton world council’ in the form of the International Monetary Fund (IMF).

The French Revolution began as a dispute between the French monarchy and its traditional elites about where power lay. Its roots became tangled in “enlightened” discussion of the political virtues of the “nation” and the “public,” and put forth thorny branches of bitter social hostility as real state bankruptcy loomed in the later 1780s. By the time the Estates-General met in 1789, wholly new demands for the excision of all privilege from the body politic were poised to bear violent fruit. Aristocratic treachery was the leitmotif of patriotic understanding of everything that happened subsequently, through years in which a new blueprint of society, levelled but also centralized, was painstakingly crafted; and in which that blueprint was hastily redrawn in war and upheaval to become a map of republican virtues. Deep-seated conflict was never pacified, while convictions that unanimity was natural branded all dissent as treason, producing an accelerating spiral into “the Terror” of 1793-94. Although revolutionary upheaval also brought cultural innovation and a genuine new spirit of individual liberty, for the rest of the decade, France wrestled to reconcile a society of survivors and victims. It slid slowly, despite continued military triumphs, towards the suppression of civil society by dictatorship.

Kant’s famous comparison of his transcendental critique to a revolution serves as the departure point for Nicolas Halmi’s chapter, which also explores the powerful conjunction between philosophy, criticism, and poetry in early German and British Romanticism, marked by acute self-consciousness. Halmi first discusses changes in the concept of revolution, and how the new meaning lent itself to politics and to philosophy, which both sought to give the subject greater autonomy and self-governance. He then examines different theories developed in response to Kant but also to the Revolution and its perceived failure, many of which call for a moral and intellectual revolution of the self as a preparation for democratic reform. These include Fichte’s theory of scientific knowledge, Schiller’s aesthetic education, Friedrich Schlegel’s transcendental poetry, and Shelley’s defence of the poetic imagination as a source of moral sympathy. Key ideas presented in the chapter include Bildung, the Absolute, Wechselerweis, romantic irony, and allegory. Halmi concludes with a section on Wordsworth’s poetic reform in the Lyrical Ballads, arguing that it emerged as a conservative reaction to revolution.

European integration as the solution that brought peace and democracy after the devastating wars ravaging Europe in the early twentieth century: this is still one of the most widespread narratives about European cooperation. It is, and was, also the pivot of the discourse of the European Union (EU) and its predecessors to justify their existence and create their success in a bold form of self-fashioning.1 Just like the German Stunde Null (zero hour) and the international caesura that the United Nations emphasised between itself and the League of Nations, European cooperation projects after the Second World War emphasised the novelty of their endeavours and the break with the preceding, violent era.

As elsewhere in the Atlantic World, the revolutionary processes in France and the French Antilles of the late eighteenth century had a tremendous impact in Iberian America. It was particularly intense in the Caribbean and the circum-Caribbean, but it could also be noticed in regions as distant as Chile and Brazil. Given the different geographical emplacements and the diverse socio-racial composition of the Iberian-American societies, that impact experienced great variations in time, nature, and scope. Bearing this in mind, this chapter studies the different echoes, entwinements and connections between Brazil and the Spanish-speaking territories with the French Atlantic during the revolutionary period and beyond. Particular attention is paid to the way those ties and links affected or influenced the local political ideas and sentiments, especially regarding the racial scope of citizenship and the debates on slavery.

Contrary to the long-standing historical view that describes Brazilian independence (1822) as a peaceful pact among elites dominated by Emperor Pedro I, this chapter examines popular participation in this conflictual process. Recent scholarship has shown how elite divisions opened space for popular political actors, as did conflicts and military mobilizations in several provinces. The public sphere expanded by Portuguese constitutionalism encompassed broad sectors of society. Slaves understood the Portuguese constitution as a liberating document and used military mobilizations to pursue their interests. Indians under Luso-Brazilian rule demanded rights used the new language of citizenship to demand relief from labor and militia service while semi-autonomous groups aligned themselves with the contending parties to defend their claims to land. Widespread worries about the “classes of color” indicate the diverse ways in which free people of color’s demands rights and inclusion in the new polity threatened the status quo. While these popular challenges were largely defeated by 1825, they profoundly shaped the independence process and left a long legacy.