There is a reason I have always been drawn to historical crossroads. History has never interested me primarily for the answers it provides, but for the questions it leaves behind. For the moments when the future was not yet determined and several paths still lay open. For the people forced to make decisions without knowing where their choices would lead or how later generations would remember them.

Perhaps that is why I am fascinated particularly by the nineteenth century: by the Napoleonic wars, the revolutions of 1848, the Paris Commune of 1871, by the rise of modern ideologies, and by those who tried to build new societies before history had decided whether their ideas were to be. Or why I return to authors such as Victor Hugo, Jules Verne, and George Orwell, to stories that ask not only what happened, but what might have happened. History is full of such moments.

Looking back, it is easy to believe that events unfolded inevitably. That democracy would triumph over aristocracy and oligarchy. That labour movements and suffrage movements would emerge. That Europe’s empires would fall. That the Cold War would end as it did. But those who lived through these periods did not experience history as inevitability. They lived without certainty. For them, the future remained unwritten. And, so too does it for us in Europe today.

What will be the path not taken for modern Europe?

That is why we continue to be fascinated by history’s lost possibilities. We read about the Roman Empire and wonder what might have happened had it endured. We reflect on the Spanish Republic and ask what Europe would look like if Franco had been defeated. We discuss the Russian Revolution not only for what occurred, but for the alternatives to authoritarian Bolshevism that never had the opportunity to develop.

We write novels, produce films and create entire worlds around the same question: What if history had taken a different path? Future generations will do the same with us. They will look back on the early 21st century as another historical crossroads. What if Russia had never invaded Ukraine? What if the liberal international order had not begun to fracture? What if Europe had chosen to deepen its cooperation?

Or, future generations will ask: what if Europe simply continued as a collection of nation-states, all with gradually diminishing influence in a world increasingly shaped by great power rivalry? Which of today’s conflicts will future historians consider decisive? Which decisions will they identify as the moments when Europe’s future changed course? We do not know, and that is precisely the point.

The great political crossroads of our time

The people who lived through the Reformation did not know they were helping shape Europe’s future. Those who built labour movements, democratic movements, and popular organisations during the nineteenth century did not know which reforms would survive. Those who defended the Spanish Republic did not know how history would remember them. Neither do we.

That is why I see Europe’s future as the great political crossroads of our time. Not because it is objectively the most important issue for every person. Not because a more integrated Europe would automatically solve climate change, economic inequality, war, or the many challenges facing democracy. But because I believe Europe’s ability to confront those challenges will be shaped by the kind of Europe that exists to meet them.

For me, European integration is not primarily about institutions, treaties, or bureaucracy. It is about whether Europe’s democracies can develop the political capacity necessary to defend their values and shape their own future in an increasingly uncertain world. In one sense, this is not a new question at all.

Why European unification is the best path forward

For more than seven centuries, European thinkers, statesmen, and visionaries have imagined forms of cooperation, peace and shared responsibility beyond the continent’s recurring conflicts. From Dante’s medieval reflections, through early modern peace projects, and 19th and 20th century visions of a European Federation, the same fundamental question has repeatedly emerged: can the peoples of Europe build something stronger together than they can apart?

At the same time, the 19th century and the first revolutionary decades of the 20th century produced powerful ideas about democracy, social justice, popular participation, and international solidarity. Some of these ideas were realised. Others failed. Some remain unfinished aspirations. I believe European unification represents the meeting of these two historical currents: the old dream of a European community, and the modern ideals of democracy, equality, and popular self-government.

Not as a project to erase nations or identities, but as an attempt to voluntarily unite democratic societies around shared institutions and common responsibility. If it succeeds, future generations may regard it as one of the most significant political achievements in European history. If it fails, they will likely ask why.

Perhaps that is why I see European unification as a continuation rather than a beginning. We are not the first generation to ask what Europe’s common future should be. We are merely part of a much longer story. But like those who came before us, we do not possess the answers. We live at the crossroads. And I believe that the struggle over which path Europe chooses will be remembered as the defining question of our age.