The Summer That Made Me European

If you’ve read anything I’ve written, you’d be forgiven for thinking I’ve always been pro-European, but (and it pains me to admit this), I was once a Union-Jack touting, Nigel Farage-loving teenager in the midst of a full-blown puberty-fuelled identity crisis. That was, until a series of events radically changed my perspective, and the course of my life. On Europe Day 2026, I wanted to put that story into words.

It was the summer of 2014. I’d just finished my high-school exams and was pondering my university options. Journalism was my first choice: Lille had a renowned school of journalism, and I’d fallen in love with it after a visit in April of that year. Political science was my second; in high school, I’d become quite politically active, spurred on by the financial crisis.

Initially, I didn’t have a third option, but my teachers had recommended I put something down in the event that I got rejected by the other two universities: especially given that I had primarily studied IT and this was hardly the orthodox pathway to a career in Journalism or Politics. My German teacher, Friederike, had suggested a course in Franco-German Relations, which included Journalism and Political Science, but also translation, law, literature, and intercultural studies. It also involved spending a year at a German University. Given that (in her very generous opinion) I was quite good at German, she said she’d put in a good word for me if I applied, and so, as a backup plan I selected Franco-German Relations as my third option.

Souvignty, photo by Christophe Meneboeuf, Wikipedia

Around that time I was also making summer plans, and my friend Nina said she was going to volunteer at a Medieval fair in the charming village of Souvigny, just a stone’s throw away from where I lived, and asked if I wanted to join her. The deal was simple: bring a tent, work during the day, eat for free and drink ludicrous amounts of medieval fortified wine. Naturally, I immediately accepted.

What I didn’t know at the time is that many of the volunteers would be joining us from the European Solidarity Corps, an EU project that lets young Europeans volunteer on projects around the Union. And so, for the first time in my life I was exposed to the full diversity of the Europe: I flipped crêpes with Italians, ran the bar with a Pole (who taught me the vital skill of swearing in Polish), washed dishes with Ukrainians, and chopped vegetables with a Spanish girl (who I am unashamed to say I had something of a crush on). At the time I recall attempting to impress her by creating a map of Spain from carrots (not my best move, and it also caused a small diplomatic incident with the Portuguese participants who didn’t think my map adequately represented the border between Portugal and Spain. Oops!).

The famed carrot map.

Politically, I also found we had so much more in common than I had expected, and for the first time, my identity as a Brit felt like a small part of a larger whole. The Ukrainians I met there became some of many lifelong friends, and when the Revolution of Dignity broke out a year later, it was not a distant revolt in a country of which I knew little: it was my friends fighting for our shared values. Suddenly there was a we I never knew existed.

A younger Jordan, with an arguably terrible haircut is peeling onions in the background. Photograph Credit: Severine Tremodeux, La Montagne newspaper

When that week of campfire karaoke, political debates at the sink, carrot maps, cutting more onions than i can count, and terrible hangovers came to an end, I went home, logged on to the University admissions portal, and switched Franco-German Relations to my first choice. A few days later, I got a notification of acceptance (Danke, Rike, I undoubtedly owe it to you!).

Over the course of the next three years, I explored this new we historically, culturally and politically. I discovered that our differences are often things to cherish (and laugh about): they don’t divide us, they strengthen our bond. I particularly remember an intercultural studies class where the professor asked us to place our bags on the table, and one French classmate had a baguette, a bottle of wine and some cheese in her hand bag, while a German classmate had an amount of asparagus in her rucksack that I would qualify as “disturbing”.

By the time those three years (and a further year spent teaching French in a German school) had concluded, I not only decided that the European Project was a force for good, but that it was one I wanted to be part of and fight for. Brexit was devastating for me, but it only strengthened my resolve. I also became aware that many of the opportunities my family and I had were thanks to the European Union, and developed a deep gratitude to the EU, and to France, the country that had welcomed me, and which I now call my home. I wanted to give back.

From there, I studied European Affairs in Paris, then in Bruges, again, meeting people from across the continent who have become lifelong friends. I also volunteered with the Jeunes Européens, the French branch of the Young European Federalists, because I wanted to give others the opportunity to experience Europe as I had. I then went on to serve for three years as a staffer in the European Parliament, something which only strengthened my convictions about Europe.

Me, as president of the Young European Federalists Paris, recruiting people to join at University, 2018

My story is not unique: I’ve crossed paths with many of the people I met in Souvigny over a decade ago in Brussels today. And that brings us to now.

It feels today like the EU’s self-confidence has hit rock bottom: we are told (incorrectly) that we are not competitive, and that our social-economic model, that puts citizens and the protection of the environment before profit, is unsustainable. Sometimes, we even second-guess ourselves.

We face attacks from all sides: foreign powers ranging from long-standing enemies to former allies, all seeking to divide and conquer, and telling us we’d be better off without the EU, all while their puppets within the EU call for it to be dismantled. Sometimes these voices become so loud you could almost be tempted to believe them. Even I sometimes ask myself if the EU, as the force for good that it is, isn’t just too slow, too hesitant, and too careful to survive in an era of such instability.

But then I think of my experiences of people in Souvigny, in Germany, in Bruges, and now in Brussels. Peoples of a Union unlike any in history, built not on the foundation of authoritarian rule or military force, as were the empires that preceded it, but because we collectively chose it. We chose a society that puts citizens wellbeing above a higher GDP number. We chose a society of cooperation over conflict, of sharing of culture, and of burdens. We chose to build that Europe.

We chose it for the same reason soldiers played football together during the Christmas Truce in World War 1, and for the same reason the European Union miraculously emerged out of the ashes of the Second World War.

We chose it because there is a we: a collective identity that remains hidden from us until we come together, but becomes irreversibly evident when we do. That we is our greatest strength, and it must be our source of confidence and will going forwards: no matter the challenges before us, if we remain united in our diversity, we will overcome them!

Happy Europe Day, Long Live Europe! 🇪🇺