Sunday, Jan. 19, 2003

Voices Of A New Generation

They are young, full of energy and ideas, and almost as diverse as modern Europe itself. Note their names: Ruth Aniansson, Jaan Aps, Rasmus Grue Christensen, Hakan Ener, Alexander Hoefmans, Hanan el Khatib, Ken Mifsud Bonnici, Petre Stamatescu. You'll see them in the headlines someday. Passionate about Europe at a time when most people just don't seem to care, these ambitious twentysomethings aspire to lead the Continent as lawyers, academics, NGO workers, businesspeople — maybe even politicians. A week before December's E.U. Summit in Copenhagen, the eight held a summit of their own in the Danish capital. Their mission: to prepare for this week's World Economic Forum in Davos, where they'll bring their message — "We expect much more from the E.U. than it's now delivering" — to global leaders in government, finance and industry.

Who are these eight young leaders, and why should the Davos élite listen to them? They were elected by 1,000 of their peers at last summer's Youth 2002 conference in Denmark, where young people from 33 European countries drafted a mock E.U. constitution — a blueprint for the future of Europe. The meeting was organized by the World Economic Forum, the Danish think tank Monday Morning and a consortium of youth organizations as part of the Bridging Europe Initiative, a program designed to combat apathy and encourage a new generation of leaders. As the E.U. embarks on its largest-ever expansion, writes a real constitution and seeks a single voice in the global order, these eight are acting as messengers from a skeptical generation. The theme of this year's World Economic Forum is "Building Trust" — a tall order indeed — and if that theme is to have any meaning, then the construction project must include young people like these.

Idealistic and almost impossibly eager to make a difference in the world, they have high hopes for Europe but little faith in the way it's currently being run. They want more communication from Brussels and among citizens. They want the E.U. to become an activist in world affairs. They believe a sense of European identity can and should coexist alongside national ones. Their faith in the European project compels them, as Alexander Hoefmans, 27, a wiry Belgian lawyer, says, "to stand up and shout loud for the future of Europe."

Not all the young leaders cared so much about the E.U. before Youth 2002. For some, like Ken Mifsud Bonnici of Malta, 20, an intense, almost professorial law student, phrases like democratic deficit have always rolled off the tongue. But many more were like Petre Stamatescu, 24, a Romanian and onetime aspiring pro basketballer. Yes, he was (and is) keen on politics — he's now working at the European Parliament. But when he signed up for Youth 2002, he says, "I saw it more or less as a paid holiday."

In retrospect, "it was a holiday — but we worked a lot," he says, recalling the heated, all-night debates about the group's constitution. What they produced was a vision statement that reflects the concerns of their generation, guaranteeing the right to higher education and enshrining environmental responsibility as a guiding principle of the E.U., alongside others like democracy and transparency. It will take yet more work to get the word out at Davos, where hundreds of topics crowd the agenda, and to keep the momentum going until 2004, when a follow-up to Youth 2002 is expected to coincide with the unveiling of the new E.U. constitution.

There's no danger of these young people running out of things to talk about. The four themes that emerged from Time's conversations with them — trust, making connections, European identity and Europe in the world — aren't going away. In Davos, they'll present their work and toss their ideas around with leaders. "It's an incredible opportunity — but also a responsibility," says Mifsud Bonnici. "We'll have a voice where it matters. How can you plan the world's future when you don't know what its citizens will want from it?"

TRUST
Thirteen years since the fall of the Berlin Wall, "there's a mental wall between East and West," says Hoefmans. "People in the East say, 'Does the West really want us?' And people in the West have stereotypes of the East." As he crisscrossed Poland during the past year, talking with voters and giving lectures on the E.U., he saw the divide firsthand. Most Western politicians "have no clue what enlargement is really about for the people here," he says. Many Poles, like their counterparts in other candidate countries, have too-high hopes of rapid economic progress — as well as fear of change to their way of life, no doubt exacerbated by anti-E.U. groups who play on such worries. In truth, Hoefmans found that they have little idea about what will happen when they join. They just have to trust that the leaders — of Poland and the E.U. — know what they're doing as the country heads for a vote on membership. But how can you trust when some of those leaders are in Brussels, and you don't know them and they don't know you?

Trust was a hot topic as the Bridging Europe delegates prepped for Davos. Faith in political, business and religious institutions is eroding. The Bridging Europe Scorecard, a survey of the 1,000 youth that will be released at the Forum, found that multinational corporations and religious groups are the ones young people trust least — no surprise given scandals at Enron and in the Catholic Church. More than 40% also have little trust in their own governments, a startling number since 87% of these same youth say they trust the E.U..

Brussels shouldn't start popping the corks yet. The Bridging Europe group members don't believe the E.U. is living up to expectations. They give it middling marks — not even five out of 10 — on transparency, effective use of resources and attention to citizens' views. The trust they feel is based less on what the E.U. has done than on what they hope it will do in the future. Today's challenges are too big for individual states, Mifsud Bonnici says. "Global problems require global solutions, hence the role of the E.U." Yet, says Hoefmans, "I don't trust the way it's run. I have more trust in the concept of the E.U." But what exactly is that concept? The E.U. is what the E.U. does; without concrete initiatives, talk of things like solidarity inspires little trust. "There's a lot of fluffiness when it comes to the E.U.," says Jaan Aps. "We still can't define precisely what Europe is."

The proposals being prepared by the European Convention may fill in some blanks. When the constitution goes to member states for approval, the Bridging Europe youth would like to see a massive information campaign to explain the document in clear, non-jargony language. They'd like the constitution to mirror their own, with its emphasis on citizens' rights. But no matter how it reads, "to trust something, you need knowledge about how it works," says Ruth Aniansson, 20, a cherubic European Studies major who was born in Sweden and raised in Finland. "Most people don't know how the E.U. works" — except that it excludes them from the decision-making process. "It's important that we create pressure to make our voices heard," says Hanan el Khatib, 25, who plans a career in the NGO sector. "We're ignored."

MAKING CONNECTIONS
At December's E.U. summit in Copenhagen, Hakan Ener, 22, got a taste of how difficult it is for a European citizen to be heard. Chosen to man a Youth 2002 information booth, he spent his days vying for the attention of reporters and politicians. But talking with a Turkish M.B.A. student wasn't on the agenda for most leaders, who negotiated behind closed doors, then adjourned to the media hall. There they hailed the feat of sealing enlargement as a historic moment. "The public doesn't need historic moments," says Ener. "It needs politicians who give honest opinions."

A more relevant historic moment might be an E.U. election that draws widespread participation. In the most recent E.U. parliamentary vote, in 1999, turnout dipped below 50% for the first time. Part of this apathy results from popular sentiment that Brussels is not fully accountable to voters. More than two-thirds of the Bridging Europe youth feel that the Union isn't truly democratic. Ninety percent say all E.U. documents, including meeting minutes, should be publicly available. Otherwise, says Aniansson, "we don't have any insight into what they are really doing in Brussels."

"The E.U. really needs to start from scratch" in communicating with the citizens, says Stamatescu. First, it has to use everyday language, not the jargon-filled political dialect of Brussels. Next, it has to educate youngsters about the Union. "As soon as you get to fifth grade, you should start studying a new subject — the E.U.," Stamatescu says. Then the E.U. must engage adults in the law-making process; Stamatescu suggests using community forums to gather views on major legislation from across the E.U. He notes that even when civil-society groups in Brussels chime in, all the voices are still from within the Brussels loop. Finally, an E.U. information center could be placed in every city hall, to provide a permanent point of contact for people in every community.

It's also time for the electorate to take an interest in E.U. affairs. People across the Continent may not feel connected to Brussels, but they don't feel particularly connected to their own governments either. In much of the E.U., participation in local and national votes has been falling too. Initiatives like Bridging Europe could make a difference. The delegates hope for a "trickle-down" effect from the 1,000 involved. "People are like molecules," says el Khatib. "If one moves, others will start moving."

But in which direction? The Bridging Europe group wants everyone to be drawn together: politicians to the people, East to West, young to old. But there's also the possibility that as the Europhiles immerse themselves in Project Europe, it is they, not the plan and its politicos, who will be changed. At one point during the Copenhagen discussions, Nina N&oring;rgaard, vice chair of Youth 2002, snapped, "You're like established politicians." The group was quick with criticism yet slow with solutions and had descended into Eurobabble-filled rhetoric. Some of the delegates bristled at Nørgaard's accusation, but Hoefmans agreed. "We often do sound like them," he admits. One can't help worrying that they might start acting like politicians, too.

EUROPEAN IDENTITY
Hanan el Khatib prefers not to talk about her family's origins or their immigrant experience or her birthplace. Instead, el Khatib, whose roots are Palestinian, offers a metaphor about painting. "Blends of different colors make beautiful, new and distinct shades," she says. "This is what Europe is about." Her identity? "I am Maltese. And I am European."

The question of European identity was one of the issues addressed in the Bridging Europe survey; it found that 89% of the young people feel both European and national allegiances. Of course, the Bridging Europe group tends toward Europhilia; among the broader youth population, the figure is 55%. Nearly all the survey participants see the two identities as distinct. National identity may involve music or what you eat at holidays or the language a mother uses to sing her son to sleep. European identity doesn't, and it's not about religion either. European Convention head Valéry Giscard d'Estaing may see Turkey's possible accession as "the end of the European Union," but these young people call it the right step for unity. No clash of civilizations here, because this identity, says Aniansson, "is a political and economic one" — a name embossed on your passport and the coins jingling in your pocket. "The E.U.," says Ener, "is a union of values, along with markets, and not much else." The 25 countries now or soon to be in the E.U. came together not because they are culturally alike — they often are not — but because they share some basic democratic, political and economic values and interests.

Over time, European identity may take on more characteristics now associated with national allegiances, especially if a sense of "Europeanness" is nurtured among the young. For now, though, the message from the Bridging Europe leaders is that the Europoliticos can lay off the grand symbolism of flags and anthems. Aps, a dedicated Europhile, bluntly declares, "I don't think European identity particularly matters." "The E.U. cannot force a European identity on its citizens," says Hoefmans. "This is not something that can be created top down. It has to come about the other way."

EUROPE IN THE WORLD
Rasmus Grue Christensen showed up for the first day of his internship at the U.S. Capitol on Sept. 4, 2001, expecting that his four months in the office of California Congressman Tom Lantos would teach him a lot about American government. The affable 24-year-old Dane, a philosophy student and a staffer at the human-rights group Humanity in Action, never thought it would shape his views on how the world works — and ought to work. Then came the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington. "Being at the epicenter during the attacks convinced me of the urgent necessity of global cooperation," he says. Only transnational setups like the E.U. can successfully grapple with "the borderless challenges of our modern world."

Christensen's peers agreed, with 84% in the survey saying that the E.U. should play a bigger role in global politics than it does now. Sixty percent want the E.U. to have its own seat on the U.N. Security Council. The youth put human rights high on the foreign-policy agenda — Aps says it should be the E.U.'s "guiding mission" in its work abroad — and 95% rank respect for human rights "very important" as a criterion of E.U. membership.

But consensus breaks down on the question of how the E.U. should pursue its global goals. Stamatescu, whose proposal for a professional E.U. army along the lines of the French Foreign Legion was shot down during Bridging Europe's constitutional debate, still believes that "if you don't have a proper army, you can't become a real global player." The authors instead settled for an ill-defined "common European force" drawn from the national armies, a proposal that reflects the same lack of political will that has plagued the E.U.'s real leaders.

"I definitely don't see the E.U. taking the responsibility," says Aps, suggesting that working through international organizations might be the only way forward. Christensen advocates a U.N. army as "a global enforcement system." But again, how well would this recycled idea work, unless it's given more teeth than the missions sent to the Balkans and Rwanda?

Hopeful as they might be about the future, these people are realistic about the impact they have had so far. More than 30,000 decision makers and organizations got copies of the Bridging Europe report and constitution. Bertel Haarder, Denmark's European Affairs Minister, praised the youth "for having found a balance between collaboration in Europe and the independence of states." But nobody's pretending that Giscard is using it as a blueprint for his own constitution, nor have any legislators called the youth for advice. Here's hoping the élites will start listening in Davos. Even if they don't, the young leaders remain patient. We'll have "an impact on the decision makers," s ays Hoefmans, "because that's who we might be."

Jean Monnet, one of the E.U.'s forefathers, was reportedly fond of quoting a Biblical proverb: "Where there is no vision, the people perish." But people cannot live on vision alone; where there's a lack of practical policies, the people don't do so well either. Striking a balance between grand schemes and political realities isn't easy. If these eight up-and-comers can stay grounded, if they can remember all the things about the establishment that have so irked them, maybe they'll pull it off. Maybe they can change things. Maybe they'll show that bright young things can grow up to become great leaders. Let's hope so. Europe needs them.