Images from Paradise. Eszter Salgó

Europa,” the “seduction of Europa,” and the “transition of Europa.” The version of the “rape of Europa,” in which the bull symbolizes violence, oppression, and the destructive forces of nationalism and Nazism, provides a foundational story of how European integration contributed to defeat extremism, nationalism, and authoritarianism. In the story of the “seduction of Europa” the role of the bull is played by the United States of America, representing the liberator and the savior, the mythical hero who, as a result of his legendary accomplishments, conquers the heart of the princess and marries her. This is the foundational story of a special relationship, the matrimony of a couple where America helped his spouse overcome trauma in order to forget the devastating past and move toward a bright future. Manners interprets the myth of the “transition of Europa” following Judith Barringer (1991), who depicts Europa’s journey as a metaphorical passage, a “critical life transition” both from maiden to woman and from life to death to rebirth (Barringer, 1991: 662, 666). In this sense, Europe’s journey in the 1930s and 1940s could be read in relation to the metamorphosis of the Phoenician princess and seen as a transitional period in which the Europe of nationalism dies and a postnational Europe that is ready to face the challenges of the twenty-first century is reborn (Manners 2010: 69–70).

      Every artistic representation of the myth of Europa is unique in terms of time, space, artist, audience, and the spirit of the era. Europa results as an interpreter of a series of affections that vary from surprise to trepidation, fear to sensual abandon. The fact that privileged moments from the mythological narrative vary in accentuation and interpretation as well is not surprising if one considers the communicative effectiveness of the syntactic structure (Cerulo 1993). Syntactic structure that orders and organizes, combines or repeats the various elements of a symbolic construction (in our case the different components of the Europa myth) may emphasize one element over another. While retaining the elements, it can change the symbol’s message, effectiveness, and emotional appeal. To sketch the allegory for a project of peace, prosperity, and unity, EU institutions have frequently revisited the myth’s syntactic structure. The decision to choose an ancient Greek portrayal out of the several artistic representations of the tale to ornament the new euro banknotes reveals what the privileged moments of the story are for the European Central Bank and anticipates how it will seek to use this artistic representation of the myth for its political agenda.

      A glance at the new euro banknotes brings us back to antiquity and reinforces the narrative, according to which an umbilical cord links the European Union to ancient Greece. Mario Draghi perhaps shares Husserl’s view that

      spiritually Europe has a birthplace. By this I do not mean a geographical place, in some one land, though this too is true. I refer, rather, to a spiritual birthplace in a nation or in certain men or groups of men belonging to this nation. It is the ancient Greek nation in the seventh and sixth centuries B.C. In it there grows up a new kind of attitude of individuals toward their environing world. … In the emergence of philosophy in this sense, a sense, that is, which includes all sciences, I see—no matter how paradoxical this may seem—the original phenomenon of spiritual Europe. (Husserl 1965: 158–59)

      He might agree with Vaclav Havel, for whom the large set of values at the bases of the European Union has a clear moral foundation and obvious metaphysical roots in antiquity (1994). This choice, this “preference for the primitive,” may have something to do with what the art historian Ernst Gombrich called “Cicero’s Law”:

      How much more brilliant, as a rule, in beauty and variety of colouring are new pictures compared to the old ones. But though they captivate us at first sight the pleasure does not last, while the very roughness and crudity of old paintings maintains their hold on us. (Cicero, Dc Oratore III. xxv. 98; cited by Gombrich 2002: 7)

      The prophets of palingenetic ultra-Europeanism (quite similar to premodern communities) believe that the power of their community lies in its (imagined) origins. The origin myth, the Europa narrative of the foundation of the Cretan civilization, this image of primordial paradise, assumes outmost importance and regressus ad originem, the restoration of the period of pristine harmony, becomes a key concern for European myth entrepreneurs advocating “rebirth” and “new beginning.” The European Central Bank arrived at the conclusion that it was not enough to bring Europe back to the post–World War II period, when Europe’s “founding fathers” laid down the foundations of today’s European Union; a return to the sacred origins was needed in order to transform the Eurozone into a sacred space, an absolute fixed point in the global chaos, the point of departure for constructing a new cosmion.

      Antiquity “imparts dignity”; old words and images give our discourse “an air of sanctity and majesty” (Quintilian VIII, iii, 24; cited by Gombrich 1966: 35); they can project us into another (sacred) world. If, as Anthony Cohen asserts, “mythological distance lends enchantment to an otherwise murky contemporary view” (1985: 99), the Europa myth may be seen as a tool to inject sanctity into a profane political project.