- The Myth of Europe
As Hesiod recounts, Europa was the daughter of the Phoenician king Agenor. Zeus, enchanted by her beauty, transformed himself into a bull and abducted her across the sea to Crete. From her name, the entire continent would eventually take its name – Europe.
This myth is not merely a story from antiquity. It carries profound symbolism. It shows that Europe, in its very name, has Eastern roots—since Phoenicia lay in the area of today’s Lebanon and the wider Levantine region. This means that Europe was not “born within itself,” but in contact with the Orient. Undoubtedly, as part of ritual life, myth served as a means of joining the beliefs of different peoples, in order to bridge cultural differences and to unite the evident civilizational distinctions that Mediterranean peoples had among themselves. Archaeological finds testify to developed maritime and trade connections in the Eastern Mediterranean already in the Bronze Age. As part of that interactive culture, the Hellenes were aware of these processes, and thus Cadmus, the “man from the East,” became the founder of Thebes, as ancient authors testify— the man who brought letters to the Greeks and taught them various skills. To strengthen these bonds and to harmonize differences, the ancient mythmakers gave him as a wife the goddess Harmonia—“order, concord, harmony”—a personified abstract concept, daughter of Ares and Aphrodite, of War and Love.
The continuing conflicts throughout history between East and West—which persist to this day and are also religious—have led many researchers to seek ways to remove the Eastern element from the myth of Europa. Especially in the nineteenth and the first half of the twentieth century, Europe favored the so-called “Greek miracle,” in order to present the beginnings of European culture and civilization as an autonomous phenomenon; yet unfortunately the written, artistic, and archaeological monuments of the ancient period point to a completely different process.
In general, the view of the “European origin” of the myth of Europa is supported through the etymology of the name Europa: if linguistically Εὐρώπη cannot be confirmed as a word of Indo-European origin with the meaning “wide-eyed,” then one turns to its connection with the Mycenaean world and Crete, and even with Thrace—although it is a non-Greek word, it is nevertheless not Semitic, and thus at least territorially corresponds to the name.
Many contemporary thinkers have emphasized precisely this paradox: Europe wishes to imagine itself as “purely Western,” yet its name and identity are rooted in the East. The philosopher Edgar Morin calls this the “unfinished identity of Europe”—an identity that constantly oscillates between integration and exclusion, between recognizing difference and striving for homogenization.
Some authors claim that the myth of Europa is merely a “poetic image” and that it should not be overemphasized in today’s context—that it is pointless to connect today’s political and cultural divisions with a mythical story. However, precisely in this diversity of interpretations lies its value: myths are not simple stories, but mirrors that show how each epoch sees itself.
Today, when Europe represents a cult symbol of unity and rapprochement, and when the prefixe european are daily present among us in various forms, the descendants of Europa increasingly forget the wisdom of the ancient mythmakers. The vision of a united Europe began with its founders—Robert Schuman and Jean Monnet, and many others—shaped by the bitter experiences of Europe’s wars; yet it has gradually faded among generations born into a different Europe. The “New Europeans” have often forgotten the warnings of history.
When we speak of “Europe in the shadow of conflicts,” we must remember that from the very beginning Europe was not simple and uniform, but complex and multilayered. Already in the myth of Europa we see that the continent is not defined as a closed fortress—especially if we consider the Balkan Peninsula, which is a crossroads between East and West.
2. Myth and Politics through History
Throughout history, myths have played a double role: they have been a source of cultural identity, but also an instrument of political manipulation. Already in antiquity, the ancient Greeks used myths to explain the origins of their cities and laws. The myth of Romulus and Remus was not only a legend—it legitimized Rome as the “eternal city” and justified its expansion.
In the Middle Ages, myths acquired a religious-political dimension. “Holy wars,” such as the Crusades or battles against the Ottomans, transformed ordinary conflicts into “cosmic struggles” between good and evil. In this way, myths offered justification for violence and domination, while also mobilizing the masses.
The national eras of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries further intensified this function of myth. Every European nation sought “its own mythical past.” In the Balkan this can be seen very clearly: the Kosovo myth among the Serbs, the Illyrian continuity among the Croats, the problem of identity among the Bulgarians, the narrative of the distinctiveness and continuity of the Bosnian state among the Bosniaks. These narratives did not remain only in books—they became political fuel and a source of conflicts.
A similar situation exists today. The myth of “Ancient Rus’” is used to justify aggression and territorial claims. This shows that myths are not relics of the past, but active political instruments of the twenty-first century.
Some researchers emphasize that myths are not necessarily destructive. According to them, myths can serve as the “binding tissue” of communities, offering a sense of continuity and belonging. For example, the myth of the French Revolution is not merely a political construct, but also a symbol of freedom and equality. Thus in the Balkan, some myths may have had a mobilizing, even liberating function. But the problem arises when political elites take myths over—then they cease to be cultural narratives and become dangerous weapons. Myths connect, but they also divide. They inspire, but they also devastate. Europe’s history is marked precisely by this ambivalence. Myth is not only literature, oral tradition, and art, but also an instrument of power.
3. Europe in the Shadow of Crises and Contemporary Myths
With the entry into the twenty-first century, Europe faced a series of crises that exposed its vulnerability. The COVID-19 pandemic showed how fragile trust in institutions can be. Instead of complete unity, we saw the closing of borders, a lack of coordination, and a return to selfish national policies. In such an atmosphere of insecurity, myths and conspiracy theories began to spread: about a “deliberately created virus,” about “secret centers of power,” or about “pharmaceutical conspiracies.” These narratives spread through social media faster than scientific facts.
The war in Ukraine brought even deeper destabilization. In political discourse, the myth of “Ancient Rus’” appeared, speaking of a common origin of Russians, Ukrainians, and Belarusians. This narrative is used to justify imperial policy and to challenge the sovereignty of neighboring states. Europe again found itself in the role of an observer and a weak actor, often unable to provide a unified response. In addition, the global economic crisis and energy dependence opened space for new myths. Europe is returning once more to an age of “civilizational clash” between the liberal West and the autocratic East. Many authors, meanwhile, believe that Europe is becoming “collateral damage” in the global struggle between the United States and China.
Perhaps myths in times of crisis also have a positive function: they offer symbolic frameworks that help people explain fear and insecurity. During the pandemic, myths about “heroic doctors” and the “fight against an invisible enemy” had a mobilizing and encouraging force. But critics warn that such narratives, once they cross a certain line, create paranoia and intensify divisions between people and states.
Europe today once again stands between myth and reality—between the need for rational solutions and the temptation to resort to simpler, mythical explanations.
4. The Balkan– Crossroads of East and West
he long history of migrations—especially of the Indo-Europeans who began moving into and conquering the territory later called Europe from the second millennium BCE onward—the mixing with indigenous populations, and contacts with peoples of the Eastern Mediterranean and Asia created cultural differences and civilizational contrasts that, over time, deepened further. Yet the desire to control the Balkan as the principal land route to the East—especially the passage via the Bosporus and the Dardanelles toward Asia Minor and the Near East—remained a constant among the great empires of the past. In the Balkan, peoples developed a unique culture, a blend of two opposing worlds that still struggle today for control over the “bridges of civilizations.”
Throughout history, the Balkan proved to be a region where different civilizations meet and clash. Already in antiquity, the Greek and Roman worlds touched here. Later the Balkan became the border between the Western Roman and the Eastern (Byzantine) Empire. This division was not only political, but also cultural and religious: the Latin West and the Greek East developed different models of power, law, and spirituality.
In 293 CE, Emperor Diocletian established the system of the Tetrarchy, dividing the Empire among two Augusti and two Caesars. Bosnia and the wider area of the western Balkan belonged to the province of Dalmatia, with the river Drina as an approximate boundary between the western and eastern parts. After the death of Theodosius I (395), the Roman Empire was permanently divided into Western and Eastern empires. The West (with its capital in Ravenna) was assigned to Honorius, and the East (with its capital in Constantinople) to Arcadius. Emperor Justinian I (527–565) carried out a temporary “reunification”: his generals (Belisarius, Narses) conquered North Africa, Italy, and parts of Hispania. But these successes were short-lived—after his death, Byzantium again lost control over its western territories.
Bosnia has a special place in this context. In the Middle Ages it was a space of religious particularity, with the emergence of the Bosnian Church, which set it apart and exposed it to pressure from both Rome and Constantinople. With the arrival of the Ottomans, Bosnia became one of the key points of contact between East and West. Sarajevo, Mostar, and Travnik testify to a blending of Islamic and European traditions, creating a specific multicultural heritage.
After the seventh century, with the arrival of the Slavs, Bosnia’s interior moved out of direct Byzantine control. In the twelfth century, the Banate of Bosnia emerged—initially as a vassal of Hungary, but with growing autonomy. Ban Kulin (1180–1204) stabilized the state and made it an important trade center. His 1189 charter on trade with Dubrovnik is one of the oldest diplomatic documents in a South Slavic language. In the fourteenth century, under the rule of Tvrtko I Kotromanić (1377–1391), Bosnia reached its peak—becoming the Kingdom of Bosnia and including parts of Serbia, Croatia, and Dalmatia. In 1463 the Kingdom of Bosnia fell to the Ottomans, and the last king, Stephen Tomašević, was executed. Then in 1482 the Ottomans conquered Herzegovina (the territory of the “Herzeg of Saint Sava”). The Bosnian Sanjak was established, and in 1580 the Bosnian Eyalet—an important frontier province. Over the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, a process of Islamization began, forming a strong Muslim elite (spahis, ayans). At the same time, Catholics and Orthodox Christians remained present with limited rights (the status of reaya).
Austro-Hungarian rule brought a new layer of European heritage—modernization, institutions, but also strong control. Bosnia became a laboratory of confrontation between the retreating Ottoman Empire, the expansive Habsburg Monarchy, and rising national movements. The Sarajevo assassination of 1914 was not only a local event, but a spark that set the world on the path to war. In 1878, at the Congress of Berlin, Austria-Hungary received the administration of Bosnia and Herzegovina, and in 1908 annexation was carried out, so that BiH formally became part of the Monarchy. This provoked a strong “Annexation Crisis” and additional tensions in the Balkan.
With the collapse of Austria-Hungary, BiH entered the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes (later Yugoslavia) in 1918. In the Second World War (1941–1945), BiH was part of the Independent State of Croatia (NDH), with mass suffering but also strong partisan resistance. From 1945 to 1992, BiH was one of six republics within the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia; Sarajevo became a cultural and industrial center. In 1992, BiH declared independence, followed by a bloody war. Under the Dayton Agreement (1995), the state was constitutionally organized as the Federation of BiH, Republika Srpska, and the Brčko District. In recent history, the wars of the 1990s showed how myths of ethnic and religious identity can destroy a society. Bosnia then became a symbol of a divided Balkan, but also a mirror of Europe’s impotence.
The history of Bosnia and Herzegovina is an example of continuous existence at the crossroads of empires, religions, and cultures. From the Roman boundary on the Drina, through medieval bans and kings, to Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian rule, and then Yugoslavia and the modern state, Bosnia is a mirror of European divisions and integrations, until finally the Dayton Agreement drew a new boundary between Western and Eastern Europe.
Macedonia (today North Macedonia) shares this fate as well. As part of Byzantium, then under the state of Samuel, under the Ottomans, and finally in Yugoslavia, Macedonia was constantly a crossroads between empires. Ohrid, as a spiritual center, is an example of the blending of Byzantine tradition and local particularity. In 2001, as Bosnia did in the 1990s, Macedonia experienced its internal ethnic crisis—but instead of war, the Ohrid Framework Agreement was reached, which, similarly to Dayton, institutionalized ethnic balance.
Therefore, both Bosnia and Macedonia are not merely “local issues”—they are European tests: can Europe integrate differences, or will it remain trapped in divisions? For Western Europe, the Balkan have long been a “powder keg,” a source of instability where Europe had to intervene. This view was often advanced by Western diplomats and publicists, stressing the “Balkan failure to self-regulate.” Other researchers warn that the Balkan are not the source of the problems, but a place where great-power interests collide. According to them, the myth of the “Balkan powder keg” conceals the fact that divisions were most often stimulated from outside—from the Ottomans and the Habsburgs, through the Cold War, and up to today’s geopolitical rivalries. The Balkan are a mirror of Europe—both conflict and bridge.
5. “The Western Balkan”?
The term is neither ancient nor medieval. In the past, names such as “Illyria,” “Thrace,” “Macedonia,” “Dalmatia,” or, more generally, “the Balkan” were used. During the nineteenth and twentieth centuries the term “Balkan” or “Balkan Peninsula” dominated, especially after the work of Jovan Cvijić (Balkan Peninsula, 1918). After the breakup of Yugoslavia in the 1990s, the European Union and international organizations began to use the term “Western Balkan” to denote the countries that were not immediately integrated into the EU. Initially, around the mid-1990s, it began to appear in EU and OSCE documents as a political category. The term became an official part of EU language after the Zagreb Summit (2000), when the EU formulated its policy toward the “Western Balkan”—Serbia, Montenegro, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Macedonia (today North Macedonia), Albania, and Kosovo. The justification given by European politicians is that it is “not a geographical term in the classical sense,” because countries such as Croatia, which lies west on the Balkan Peninsula, have already become EU members and are no longer included in the category. “Western Balkan” is a political-geographical construct created by the EU to define candidates and potential candidates for membership.
Is this term “Western Balkan,” which does not exist in classical geography or history, a way to label the countries that remained outside the first waves of enlargement? Does Europe integrate the Balkan with this formula, or does it keep it at a distance? All countries of this “new region” opened negotiations with the EU, but only Macedonia and BiH did not. Although the term is considered an instrument of EU stabilization and integration, unfortunately it is also a label that prolongs the “Balkan” stereotype and creates a new “political periphery.”
The word Balkan is a Turkish toponym for a mountain range in Bulgaria (Stara Planina). Alexander von Humboldt first transmitted it into Western geography (1790s), and then J. A. von Zeune popularized it in 1808, introducing the term “Balkan Peninsula” for the entire region. In the nineteenth century, European geographers began dividing the Balkan by orography (mountain ranges). Jovan Cvijić (1918), in Balkan Peninsula and the South Slavic Lands, divided the region into the Northern Balkan (the Carpatho-Balkan region, the Danubian plain) and the Southern Balkan (the Aegean, Adriatic, and Macedonian parts). In the interwar period and later, geography textbooks regularly used divisions such as: Western Balkan (Yugoslavia, Albania), Eastern Balkan (Bulgaria, Romania), and Southern Balkan (Greece). In contemporary geography, it is also divided into: Northern Balkan (Slovenia, Croatia, Romania) and Southern Balkan (Greece, Albania, Macedonia).
The region where the name Europe originated, and later, in the fifteenth–sixteenth centuries, with the discovery of the New World, when systematic classification of continents began and the concept expanded to the lands of Western and Northern Europe, contains within it a paradox: part of the region is treated as “outside Europe,” yet it is still called the “Western Balkan.” It must not be “eastern,” while the enduring boundary—the river Drina—remains outside the EU.
6. Europe between Myth and Unity
When today we speak of Europe “in the shadow of conflicts,” we mean both the past and the present. Myths have always accompanied European history—from ancient stories about the divine origins of cities and peoples, through medieval narratives of “holy wars,” to modern ideologies that used myths to legitimize power. Today, the myth of “Ancient Rus’” or narratives of “civilizational clash” continue that tradition.
Throughout history, the Balkan have been: a border of empires (Roman, Byzantine, Ottoman, Habsburg); a border of religions (Catholicism, Orthodoxy, Islam); a border of ideologies (fascism—resistance, communism—capitalism). It has been divided in different ways, depending on which ruler, empire, or ideology created the division.
Bosnia, in this context, shows how complex Europe is. For centuries it was a crossroads of East and West—a bridge, but also a line of division. Its history reminds us that Europe cannot build stability by excluding its differences. On the contrary, the acceptance of pluralism is precisely what makes genuine unity possible.
Macedonia shares the same fate. It is a “miniature Balkan” with multiple identities, languages, and religions. From the ancient symbolic heritage of Alexander the Great, through Samuel’s state and the Ottoman period, to contemporary challenges of identity and Euro-Atlantic integration—Macedonia, like Bosnia, is a mirror of Europe: both a problem and a possibility.
Both Macedonia and Bosnia are spaces of alternative spiritual and social visions that challenged the dominance of major churches and empires. This makes them “mirrors of resistance,” but also constant victims of external interventions. Bogomilism, in fact, is an example of how an idea born in Macedonia found fertile ground in Bosnia—both countries becoming symbols of Balkan particularity and difference within Europe.
Myths are inevitable, and Europe must always live with them. Myths give narrative power to identities and cannot simply be discarded. Europe must distance itself from myth as a political weapon and rely on rational, institutional foundations. Yet perhaps there is a middle path. Europe can reinterpret its myths—not as justifications for conflict, but as sources of shared values. The myth of Europa, the Phoenician princess, can be a reminder that from the beginning Europe was a meeting of East and West. Instead of using myths for divisions, they can serve as reminders of a shared destiny.
Our shared destiny was already formulated in the nineteenth century by Victor Hugo as the vision of the “United States of Europe,” imagining Europe as a community that must overcome national borders, wars, and historical divisions. For Hugo, war in Europe is not merely a political or military defeat, but a moral humiliation of Europe itself; it represents a negation of the European civilizational idea. Wars and the centuries-old, unchanging geopolitical interests and divisions of states in Europe erode that idea. The river Drina cannot remain for centuries an eternal boundary of conflict; it should become a bridge between the peoples of Western and Eastern Europe. Because of conflicts on its own soil, Europe has lost its role and influence in the global order. The vision of a common Europe implies genuine togetherness: a common foreign and domestic policy, unification on every level, overcoming the centuries-old East–West division—otherwise our future will be uncertain. The questions that are opening today and the crises that are unfolding would have had a different dynamic if the “New Europeans” had realized Victor Hugo’s vision earlier and if Europe had united much earlier in the true sense of the word.
Therefore, the myth of Europa today is not only an object of historical or philological study, but also a living symbolic resource for a critical rethinking of the contemporary European project. Instead of the question “how to enter Europe,” perhaps it is more important to ask again, like Cadmus at Delphi: Where is Europe? Cadmus did not find Europe, but he founded it. In that paradoxical logic lies the essential message of the myth, and of Victor Hugo’s vision: Europe is not a given space, but a constant process of creation, a moral obligation, and a cultural project. Perhaps that is why Europe should not be sought outside of us, but precisely within us—in the way we understand our own roots, otherness, and historical reality.