Lars von Trier was still young and relatively unknown when he directed Europa in 1991. For those who have seen it, the opening sequence is likely etched into memory: a suffocating black and white aesthetic, a deep and enveloping voice-over, and the hypnotic rhythm of train tracks speeding by. «You will now listen to my voice. My voice will help you and guide you still deeper into Europa… I shall now count from one to ten. On the count of ten, you will be in Europa. I say: one…»
From those very first frames, the film submerges us in a trance-like state. It proposes that Europa is not merely a place—a geography defined by borders and treaties—but an idea from which there is no escape. It suggests that one cannot enter this space and emerge unscathed. Beyond the idyllic common project we often try to convince ourselves of, the concept of «Europe» is something far more complex. It is a heavy, dense, inescapable idea—a historical, moral, and emotional web where guilt, violence, memory, and nationalism continue to operate beneath the surface of an economic and social well-being that is increasingly difficult to sustain.
The Fragility of the European Project
Today, almost everything we read about this continent sounds like bad news. The headlines are dominated by stories of fragmentation, national retreats, fear of the future, and the looming specter of war. Europe appears, once again, as a project that is perpetually unfinished and consistently at risk.
As the historian Timothy Garton Ash wrote following the elections of 2024, Europe is once again in danger. The political landscape feels fractured, and the optimism that once fueled the expansion of the union seems to be waning under the pressure of external threats and internal doubts. We are living through a moment where the «heavy idea» of Europe feels particularly burdensome, weighed down by the gravity of its past and the uncertainty of its future.
A Quiet Beam of Light: The Return to Erasmus
In the midst of so much noise and anxiety, a piece of genuinely good news might easily pass unnoticed. It was recently announced that the United Kingdom will rejoin the Erasmus program starting in 2027.
On the surface, this might seem like a bureaucratic adjustment or a minor policy shift. Indeed, academic cooperation, student mobility, and the reunion with the United Kingdom in this specific arena do not resolve—not by a long shot—the profound structural and geopolitical problems facing the continent. However, to dismiss it as minor would be a mistake. Its political and symbolic value is enormous.
This is because Erasmus has never been just a mobility program. It is not merely about logistics, grants, or university credits. Rather, Erasmus has functioned for decades as an invisible infrastructure of European trust. It is a sprawling net of human, academic, and cultural relationships that has sustained the idea of Europe even when high-level politics faltered.
For decades, thousands of students have constructed «Europe» not from the text of treaties or the podiums of parliament, but from classrooms, campuses, and shared lives in foreign cities. This organic, lived experience creates bonds that are far more resilient than any legislative framework.
The Cultural Intelligence of a New Generation
I have taught in many places throughout my career, yet there is something that continues to surprise me when I stand before a class full of students from the best European technical universities in the ATHENS network. It is their profound cultural intelligence.
We are looking at a generation that has grown up crossing borders. They speak multiple languages, not just as a skill, but as a way of being. They understand intuitively that identity is not exclusive—that being French, German, or Spanish does not preclude being European. They grasp that cooperation is not a sign of weakness, and perhaps most importantly, they understand that conflicts rarely have easy solutions and are almost never resolved by simply imposing one’s will on another.
In a world increasingly marked by uncertainty, interdependence, and complexity, perhaps this mindset remains the greatest value of Europe. It is a value that we must protect at all costs. These students represent the antidote to the fragmentation and nationalism that threaten to tear the project apart. They embody the «idyllic project» that struggles to exist alongside the heavy historical burden Von Trier depicted.
Re-stitching the Wounds
Bringing the United Kingdom back into this fold is an act of healing. It is an effort to stitch back together the wounds of the European higher education space and to recover some of the best universities in the world—partners in so many intellectual and scientific battles.
This reintegration allows us to close the year with a sense of optimism. It signals that, at least in the realm of higher education, Europe still allows itself to believe in itself. It is a reminder that while the political superstructure may creak and groan, the underlying human infrastructure can be repaired and strengthened.
Lars von Trier’s film ends its hypnotic count with a final command: «On the mental count of ten, you will be in Europa. Be there at ten. I say: ten.»
As we look toward 2027, and the return of British students and scholars to this shared space, we are accepting that invitation once again. We are choosing to be in Europa—fully, deeply, and with a renewed sense of purpose.