The EU aims to cement peace and freedom, but nationalistic infighting is undermining efforts to invest in a coherent EU budget or stand up for Europe in a hostile world. Brussels’ European quarter has emptied, but around the EU capital lingers a bitter air of frustration; big new budget plans unveiled by the European Commission in mid-July have been torn into by national governments jealous of their own power; competing national interests have also seen the EU cave in to Donald Trump’s strong-arm tactics on trade tariffs and hamstrung efforts to help Ukrainians or hungry people in Gaza. Even as division hobbles the Union’s ability to add value for its citizens, the disarray also makes it a lame-duck target for flag-waving populists winning votes by calling for tighter borders and ‘less Europe’—despite surveys showing record popularity for the idea of continental cooperation. A vicious circle is developing as traditionally pro-EU parties see getting tough with Brussels as a way to fend off insurgent “patriotic” rivals. These troubles, at least in part, reflect those of democracies everywhere, as technology has disrupted how electorates are informed and communicate. The political center is being hollowed out in the EU’s member states, just as it is in the U.S. or the U.K.; it’s hard to form stable, consensual government and long-term agendas when voters respond ever more swiftly to simplistic solutions floated in their own social media bubbles. Just talk… One answer is to get citizens out of these online silos and back talking to each other. Nowhere is that more urgent than across this multilingual, multicultural patchwork of borders, over which our forebears spent centuries killing each other. It makes sense to put some faith in the fact that human beings, for all our capacity for tribal conflict, are social animals who, as individuals, mostly try to get along with each other. The formal political institutions of the EU date back to the years after World War II, but these were far from the only element of a popular groundswell driven by a longing for peace. This is, for example, the 79th summer that my home city, Edinburgh, is hosting the world’s biggest arts festival—first staged, under a Viennese director, just two years after fighting ended. In the 1950s, as budget travel opened up horizons, my parents went off camping in Germany, making friends and marveling at the rebuilding of towns my father and his RAF comrades helped flatten. I grew up in a world without the internet, where opportunities to meet strangers speaking other tongues were rare and prized, encouraged by adults who knew what hatred could wreak; school exchanges, letter-writing pen pals, international youth camps, twin towns, all were part of a vast grassroots flourishing of amity across borders. Edinburgh “twinned” with Munich, my university town with Bonn. Our home county reached across the Iron Curtain to welcome Hungarians. Listen to citizens On the face of it, today’s technology and prosperity ought to make such contact much easier. Instead, many Europeans seem to live in ever more closed (mis)information bubbles. That’s one reason why the European Commission has been reaching out over the heads of squabbling national governments to consult ordinary folk on key policies. Citizens panels have been tried in a number of countries as a way to try and build elusive consensus on particularly divisive topics—Poland, for example, consulted 700 people in 2022 on how to find a fair way to help those hit by soaring fuel prices. This spring, the EU executive invited 150 European citizens, randomly selected to represent a cross-section of the bloc’s population, to see if they could find agreement on the new budget. After three weekends taking on board the issues and grappling with priorities, there was an air of surprise and delight when the 150 delivered their, admittedly less than radical, budget recommendations to the Commission in Brussels in May. Sitting down face-to-face, they had found the kind of compromises between ardent environmentalists, say, and others fearful about jobs and energy bills that often elude professional politicians. Taking part helped renew their faith in democracy, too, in being listened to, said Maria, from Greece. Another, Rosario, said: “I’m going home to Italy, feeling like a European.” That jolt of positive energy from ground level brought a smile to the face of Piotr Serafin, the Polish European commissioner who has the unenviable job of steering between ferociously competing demands from various lobbies in order to draft the next EU budget, known as the Multiannual Financial Framework (MFF), covering 2028 to 2034. “Social media was supposed to build bridges but instead has put up walls between us. That’s why we have these European citizens’ panels,” Serafin told them. “When you get out into the regions, away from the capitals, away from the ministries, you see a Europe that is a source of hope in a better future. That’s where I see people full of energy and ideas who really believe that our common project can make their dreams come true.” Just a drop Serafin acknowledged that even at a record, headline-grabbing €2 trillion, the new MFF unveiled in July is a “tiny drop,” little more than 1% of the combined economic turnover of the 27 member states and a small fraction of what governments spend at home. Within the latest EU budget, now set to be argued over for the next year or two, just about €50 million—11 cents per citizen—is to be spent over the seven years on cultural, educational and other programs that aim to foster a sense of shared European community. It seems little encouragement for such powerful potential. About a million young adult Europeans every year take advantage of the Erasmus+ scheme to receive part of their education or training in another EU country. In over three decades, some 15 million have taken part, and according to the Commission, more than a million “Erasmus babies” have been the result—children born to couples from different states who have met through EU-subsidized educational exchanges. Other EU programs encourage young people to volunteer abroad or simply to travel—DiscoverEU, for example, hands out free European rail passes to high school leavers. One key concern is helping Europeans deal with the language diversity, which enriches the continent but also presents massive barriers to mutual comprehension. It can be a slow process, but younger generations offer hope—while over a third of over-55s are monolingual, just 10% of 18–24-year-olds speak no foreign language – more than half of these youngsters have a command of at least two, plus their native tongue. The EU budget offers some support for direct language learning, while programmes for school and college and cultural exchanges offer hands-on opportunities to communicate. Power to the people We’re living through a strange moment of seemingly contradictory trends in Europe. People are travelling and migrating across EU frontiers in increasing numbers, for work and pleasure; they’re improving their ability to communicate across borders; and are consuming more and more subtitled films and TV series from other European states. And yet across the continent, people unsettled by change are voting for parties that offer a mirage of reassurance in nostalgia for an imagined past of nationalistic comfort. Brussels would be well advised to spend a few more euros on helping bring European citizens together, to discover what they have in common. But we shouldn’t wait for official encouragement from public coffers to go out and make a difference and build a happier Europe. As we take our vacations and mingle with polyglot crowds, on beaches, at beauty spots and on piazzas, we might remember the spirit of August in Europe: August 1980, when Polish shipyard workers downed tools to face down injustice and leaders who told them their western neighbours were the enemy; and August 1989, when holidaymakers crossed the Austro-Hungarian border for a “pan-European picnic” that helped bring down the Berlin Wall in just three months. In 2025, thankfully, we don’t need their courage to make a difference. But reaching out to shake hands and embrace across Europe’s borders can be just as potent, and is as necessary as ever.
Today’s technology and prosperity make maintaining international contacts much easier. (Nacho Cubero/Europa Press via Getty Images)
