Jan Jambon is the minister-president of the government of Flanders and the Flemish minister for foreign affairs and culture.
One of the many apocryphal stories about Winston Churchill took place just after he’d become prime minister of Great Britain, as the Blitzkrieg was still raging in France and the war’s outcome for allied forces seemed uncertain at best. Isolated in his belief that Britain would repel the Nazis and ultimately be prevail, Churchill presided over an unruly Cabinet meeting, where he was advised to relocate British assets to safer locations in the vast empire: The ministries to Australia, the monarch and his family to Canada, the treasury to the Caribbean…
Churchill refused it all, calmly but decisively. Until, that is, someone suggested they at least evacuate the museums and transport the precious artworks to Canada. He banged his fist on the table: “Then what would we be fighting for?” he asked.
Dutch-Italian writer Ilja Leonard Pfeiffer recalled this story during the conference on “Culture, Heritage and Identity in Europe,” which I organized in April as president of the EU Culture Council. And however historically dubious the tale may be, the fact that we retell it again and again to convince ourselves of the value and worth of culture, speaks for itself.
At the end of the day, when all the economic, technocratic and political arguments for European construction have been made, we ask ourselves: When push comes to shove, is this what we will be fighting for? The answer is probably no.
Even the late Jacques Delors, former president of the European Commission and a great advocate for European integration, noted that one doesn’t fall in love with an internal market, a euro symbol or any other piece of legislation. There must be something more — something that unites us all, however diverse the peoples of the Continent are. And we all know that there is.
As an economic and political structure, the EU’s constructed upon rather technocratic foundations. And though extremely effective in their execution, EU policies never seem to spark much enthusiasm from their millions of beneficiaries. On the contrary, the bloc can hope for popular apathy at best, outright hostility at worst. And yet, the majority of Europeans identify themselves as just that: European.
There is a European identity that crosses borders. An identity that expresses itself in hundreds of distinct cultures, that transcends the boundaries of time and space and connects every European — from Ireland and the British Isles to the trenches of Ukraine, from the ancient times until today.
Europe isn’t just the haphazard result of a chain of historical coincidences. I firmly believe that underneath the European ideal lies a metacultural framework, which arose out of three foundational traditions that, over time, resulted in what we now call a European culture.
The first is the birth of our political thinking in Ancient Greece — especially the conception of democracy in Athens. The idea that each citizen has the right to speak their mind, cast their vote and take office originated in this grand old city. And generations of political thinkers have turned to Athens as an inspiration for democracy as rule of the people, by the people, for the people.
However, Athenian democracy was fundamentally flawed. Rule by unchecked popular opinion resulted in polarization, demagogy and political instability that, in turn, led to the decay of democracy and eventually tyranny.
This brings me to our second tradition of Roman statesmanship. Rome was never a democracy — not in the Athenian sense nor in our modern understanding of the concept. But for much of its history it wasn’t the oligarchic regime we make it out to be either. The popular classes were a major political power and they played a decisive role in the Roman decision-making process on numerous occasions. However, they were kept in check by a complex set of rules that assured the state wasn’t torn apart by private political interest. Roman thinking about citizenship, community and freedom — however narrow in its application — brought us the rule of law we consider sacred today.
And this leads to the value and dignity of each individual human being, which we owe to a third foundational tradition: Judeo-Christian heritage. Our basic human rights have become so self-explanatory and evident that we’ve forgotten just how revolutionary they were. Our modern understanding of morality, and its codification as universal human rights, grew out of teachings such as the meek shall inherit the earth, turning the other cheek and loving thy neighbor.
In a process that’s lasted over 2,000 years, Europeans have been constantly reinterpreting and renegotiating these traditions in a cultural dialogue that’s resulted in the democracy, rule of law and individual liberty we hold so dear. Of course, this process wasn’t without its faults — our history is tarnished by shortcomings and imperfections. Still, however flawed our predecessors may have been, they kept the ideal alive and strove to better themselves. And the driving force behind this was a cultural understanding of Europe — not a political or economic one.
Our heritage and cultures all reflect this ongoing historical process, which will never conclude as long as the idea of Europe remains.
Even today, we’re still involved in a cultural debate that addresses these foundational traditions; current artistic practices are still vastly influenced by them — even if critical in their approach — and although we seem to have abandoned the classical education system that was very much based on them, every European has a notion of these traditions.
One need only take a stroll through cities like London, Paris, Prague or Berlin to understand how we were inspired by a greatness that encouraged us to go beyond ourselves. We can see the passion of past generations burning in cathedrals, statues, squares and bridges — wherever we are in Europe. But instead of worshiping the ashes, it’s down to us to pass on the flame.
The EU has always shunned the debate on culture and identity. Not only because it’s an exclusive competence of member countries — as I believe it should be — but primarily because it’s considered a divisive factor rather something that unites us. Many bureaucrats in the Berlaymont recall in terror the 2004 debates about the reference to Christianity in the failed European Constitution.
However, it’s my conviction that the time has come to talk about identity.
That’s why last Monday, I hosted the informal meeting of the bloc’s ministers of culture at the Antwerp Museum of Fine Arts to discuss the role of culture, heritage and identity in Europe — precisely because I’m convinced we must invigorate our metacultural framework now more than ever.
The EU has enjoyed a long period of prosperity, peace and security — a period where there were few external threats to the Continent itself, and internal upheavals and economic crises didn’t pose an existential threat to the bloc. But times have changed. We’re now engaged in a strategic competition with China, uncertainty envelops the Atlantic alliance and Russia’s regime is an outright military menace that challenges the stability of European democracies.
In the last three decades, we’ve enjoyed the luxury of not having to ask ourselves what it is we stand for. But those times have passed. And, unfortunately, it’s once again time to pose the Churchillian question: What are we fighting for?
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