In troubled times, Europe asks: What does being 'European' really mean?

From islanders on the front lines of the refugee crisis, to those living in Europe’s biggest metropolises, to those tucked into rural communities far removed from the politics of their capitals, many feel that the European Union is at a crossroads.

Milo Kinefaty, a Syrian refugee in Berlin, Germany

Courtesy of Milo Kinefaty and Matthias Heuermann
Milo Kinefaty, a Syrian refugee in Berlin, Germany

His adopted country has allowed in more refugees than any other country in Europe, and while German Chancellor Angela Merkel was lauded for it internationally, she is also facing a political backlash at home. Germany for the first time became the target of Islamic terror this July, including one suicide bomber that the self-declared Islamic State claims to have inspired.

"Based on everything I’ve experienced in the past years, I’d identify myself as a human. I’m really proud to be Syrian, but I also see myself on a deeper level. Our main problem is belonging to a state. If we identify ourselves beyond what group we belong to, we can go beyond conflict. …

"For me, when you live in a place for a while you feel like you belong to that place. For me, I really feel like a Berliner. I have my own flat, a job, hobbies, and friends. For now I wouldn’t say I’m a European. I’d say I’m a Berliner. But as long as Berlin is part of Europe, then maybe being European is part of me.

"I chose to come to this place a long time ago. …. Now I can speak good German. In order to speak more deeply, I need more time to become as fluent as I want to be. I don’t consider people who’ve lived in Berlin for 20 years but don’t speak German part of this society. They marginalize themselves by living as if they were living in their own towns. There’s a lot of people that don’t speak the language and become more extreme in their religion as a reaction. … Germany is opening the door and in turn expecting Syrians to respect society, get a job, and participate."

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Dear Reader,

About a year ago, I happened upon this statement about the Monitor in the Harvard Business Review – under the charming heading of “do things that don’t interest you”:

“Many things that end up” being meaningful, writes social scientist Joseph Grenny, “have come from conference workshops, articles, or online videos that began as a chore and ended with an insight. My work in Kenya, for example, was heavily influenced by a Christian Science Monitor article I had forced myself to read 10 years earlier. Sometimes, we call things ‘boring’ simply because they lie outside the box we are currently in.”

If you were to come up with a punchline to a joke about the Monitor, that would probably be it. We’re seen as being global, fair, insightful, and perhaps a bit too earnest. We’re the bran muffin of journalism.

But you know what? We change lives. And I’m going to argue that we change lives precisely because we force open that too-small box that most human beings think they live in.

The Monitor is a peculiar little publication that’s hard for the world to figure out. We’re run by a church, but we’re not only for church members and we’re not about converting people. We’re known as being fair even as the world becomes as polarized as at any time since the newspaper’s founding in 1908.

We have a mission beyond circulation, we want to bridge divides. We’re about kicking down the door of thought everywhere and saying, “You are bigger and more capable than you realize. And we can prove it.”

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