Saturday evening, May 17. Suitcase in hand, I stepped off the train at Brussels-Midi without really knowing what to expect. It wasn’t my first time in the European capital, a third visit tends to take the mystery out of a place. But discovering Brussels as a tourist, beer in hand, is one thing. Experiencing it from within the heart of European power, as part of the CIVIS university programme, is something else entirely.
The initiative, led by an alliance of eleven universities (including UNIL since 2022), aims to rethink higher education on a continental scale. Its ambition? To build an inter-university campus that is open, civic-minded, and committed, a space where over half a million students, researchers and faculty collaborate on the major challenges of our time, from climate transitions to social justice.
For us, that vision took the shape of a BIP (Blended Intensive Programme) combining online preparation with a week of on-the-ground immersion in Brussels. The agenda was full: visits to the Commission, Parliament, and the European Economic and Social Committee (EESC), along with discussions with MEPs, ambassadors, EU officials and civil society actors. Everything we’d covered in our European integration course with the ever-thorough Professor Gilles Grin suddenly took on a new, tangible reality.
Because understanding Europe from a lecture hall is one thing. Navigating it with a badge around your neck, pacing through its corridors and grabbing lunch in its cafeterias, is another. What looks from the outside like a rigid, well-oiled machine turns out, from the inside, to be far more human. Yes, procedures are followed. But they coexist with corridor conversations and quiet power dynamics. Behind the institutional charts, the acronyms and the pre-formatted speeches, there’s a Europe that breathes. The real action happens in the margins: in a lingering handshake, a half-whispered exchange over coffee, a glance that speaks louder than any official statement. And no syllabus really prepares you for that.
European Parliament: where Europe stirs but never stands still
Tuesday morning, 8:15. The sun already beats down on the glass walls of Brussels’ European Quarter. From the moment we step onto the esplanade, there’s no doubt: this won’t be an ordinary day. A general strike is sweeping through the country: public transport is down, the streets packed with commuters on foot or bike. In front of the Paul-Henri Spaak building, the atmosphere is dense. Security checks follow one another, badges are handed out, bags scanned in rapid succession. No one really guides us, we move with the flow, slightly adrift in a machine that knows its choreography. The Parliament runs on its own logic. We’re just here as visitors.
The agitation grows as we move further in. It quickly becomes clear that we’ve arrived on the eve of a plenary session. Technicians wire desks, security agents make extra rounds, journalists are already setting up their gear. This isn’t the Europe of official ceremonies: it’s the Europe of last-minute prep, organized chaos. And somehow, in that bustle, the Parliament feels more real than ever.
The Hemicycle captures this tension perfectly. Circular, geometric, designed to embody unity through diversity, the space is both impressive and intimidating. Desks, headsets, flags: everything is meticulously arranged. But what hits hardest is the solemn silence of the room, contrasting with the muffled hum of preparations around us: mic tests, hushed exchanges, hurried footsteps. You don’t see Europe working; you catch it rehearsing.
Three MEP meetings were on the schedule: digital policy, migration, and fundamental rights. But by mid-morning, we learn that Jeroen Lenaers (EPP) won’t be joining us. An emergency, the strike… the reason matters little. What’s telling is the absence itself. In Brussels, everything is urgent, nothing is ever locked in. A student meeting? Worthwhile, but not the top priority. It’s not disappointing, it’s a glimpse into the real pace of parliamentary life.
That blank space in the agenda becomes an opportunity. Some of us head down to the strangely quiet cafeteria. Others roam the upper floors. A few selfies with familiar MEPs for some, snippets of overheard debate for others. As Swiss students, we don’t recognize many faces; but we spot Raphaël Glucksmann darting around a corner, deep in thought, phone glued to his ear. And then, a small but surreal detail: the MEP mailboxes. Jordan Bardella’s sits right next to Manon Aubry’s. Two political figures who couldn’t be further apart, neighbours, in an anonymous hallway. We know full well they’re not picking up their own mail, assistants handle that. Still, the scene has its charm. Europe’s contradictions, summed up in two metal boxes.
Our first formal session picks up again with Alex Agius Saliba, a Maltese MEP from the S&D group, who briefs us on digital regulation. He delivers a polished intervention built around flagship texts: the Digital Services Act, the DMA, the EU’s response to the tech giants, etc. The tone is clear, the stakes well-defined, but the whole thing feels tightly scripted. Nothing spills over. The answers are courteous, but precise to the point of predictability. A rhetorical machine not easily shaken.
Then comes Daniel Freund, a Green MEP. He was initially supposed to talk about fundamental rights but instead picks up the topic of migration. The shift is instant. He walks in without notes, challenges the room, reacts, provokes. He doesn’t sugarcoat. He owns his stance, even calling some views, including those voiced by classmates role-playing far-right positions, “crazy” or “absurd.” The tone sharpens. The exchange becomes more direct. Less a briefing, more a real political encounter. Freund doesn’t pretend to entertain everyone equally. He speaks with conviction, even when it stings. He invites disagreement, not applause. It’s not performance… it’s politics. And that’s rare enough to be noticed.
The day ends at the Representation of the State of Baden-Württemberg, and the atmosphere couldn’t be more different. We leave behind the Parliament’s stark architecture for a refined, welcoming setting. From the moment we step in, we’re greeted with a generous spread. The contrast is striking: no stiff protocol here, just genuine, even warm hospitality. It likely helps that our professor, Gabriele Abels, hails from the region. Still, nothing feels forced. Every effort is made to include us. We’re shown around the premises: reception rooms, meeting halls, panelled offices, … each more elegant than the last. Here, we feel not just tolerated, but invited.
The tone of the discussion is refreshingly straightforward. No diplomatic jargon, no pre-scripted lines, just concrete talk about regional diplomacy and how a Land can have real influence in Brussels. One detail stands out: the role Baden-Württemberg played during the recent bilateral negotiations between Switzerland and the EU. In the lead-up to the framework agreement signed in December, the Land acted as a discreet mediator, thanks to its border proximity and deep economic ties with Switzerland. After a full day spent navigating the corridors of a Parliament we don’t formally belong to, it’s reassuring to see that Switzerland still has a voice in this vast European machinery. That mediating role isn’t just symbolic. With its dual legitimacy, regional and European, Baden-Württemberg serves as a relay, a bridge between systems that often don’t speak the same language. What a member state can’t always say, a cross-border region can sometimes suggest. And for Switzerland, that subtle space of mediation is more valuable than it looks.
The European Commission, between coded language and filtered dialogue
Wednesday morning. A change of scene. We head to the Charlemagne building, which hosts several Directorates-General of the European Commission, including DG HOME. The place is massive, plain, functional. No marble, no grand symbols: this is not the Europe that performs, it’s the one that governs. The technostructure. You feel it from the start: grey carpet, badge checks at every floor, quiet hallways. It’s more formal than the day before, more focused. Here, we’re not tourists. We’re guests.
The day begins with Tina Zournatzi from DG HOME, who tackles the sensitive issue of migration through the lens of strategic communication. Narratives, imaginaries, the words chosen, or deliberately avoided. She outlines campaigns funded by the EU to “rebalance” public perception of migration in host countries but avoids touching the deeper political tensions. Next, Micha Ramakers from DG INTPA speaks about the EU’s promotion of human rights in its external relations. He covers partnerships, conditionality, support for local NGOs. The presentation is clear and informed, but the tone remains very diplomatic. It leaves us wondering whether the EU truly acts or simply states its intent. Then comes Antonella Marino from DG CONNECT. Her tone is different, more direct. She addresses disinformation, platform regulation, online freedom of expression. The topic feels more urgent, and so does the conversation. She presents the Digital Services Act as a tool for democratic accountability. For the first time that morning, the mood shifts. The exchange is more dynamic, less scripted. Not quite a debate, but something more alive.
After this dense morning, we head to the Berlaymont, the Commission’s emblematic building, covered in its giant EU flag. This is where Ursula von der Leyen works, where the EU’s major political orientations take shape. The symbolism is heavy, the atmosphere tighter. Security is stepped up. The corridors are broad, quiet, almost clinical. We learn the Dutch Prime Minister is expected within the hour. We’re escorted by staff. No photos allowed. No lingering. The space speaks for itself.
We’re received in a formal meeting room by a member of Commissioner Roxana Mînzatu’s cabinet, responsible for social rights. This time, the tone is more political, but still cautious. He walks us through internal procedures, institutional hierarchies, and how dossiers are managed. Miron Podgorean, originally from Romania, tells us about his current work on poverty reduction within the EU. The subject clearly matters to him. He speaks sincerely but stays within boundaries. At the Berlaymont, nothing goes off-script.
And yet, what stays with me from that day isn’t the content: it’s the delivery, and what leaks out between the lines. Everything feels approved, rehearsed, controlled. Language isn’t just a way of expressing ideas, it’s a mechanism of coherence, and sometimes, of avoidance. The people we meet are highly competent, often impressive, but they operate in a space where politics hovers just above the technical, never quite touching it. Unlike the Parliament, where politics is performed, almost theatrically, here, nothing is staged. These people are power, and they don’t need to prove it.
For us students, from Switzerland and elsewhere, it’s a glimpse into a different kind of authority: unelected, procedural, expert driven. A power that rarely makes headlines but shapes the structures. In some ways, it’s not unlike the Swiss Federal Council. Once you’re appointed, party lines fade. Collegiality becomes the rule. The point isn’t to take sides, it’s to preserve balance. That’s its strength. And its weakness, as we know all too well.
Leaving the Berlaymont, I found myself wondering what I had actually seen. Slick speeches, polite faces, and an underlying sense of caution. Convictions are there but filtered, held behind a coded language. Even the building, all glass and partitions, seems to echo the same restraint.
I came looking for decisions. I left asking when language becomes a shield rather than a tool. In Brussels, words are never accidental. And often, what’s unsaid speaks the loudest.
Still, I don’t leave disappointed. What I saw, I could never have learned in a lecture hall. Understanding Europe means more than walking through its institutions. It’s knowing how to read between the lines.
The EESC and the Committee of the Regions: another face of Europe
Thursday morning, Brussels feels calmer. The general strike is winding down, public transport slowly resumes, and both the streets and the institutions seem more at ease. Our destination today: the European Economic and Social Committee (EESC), followed by the Committee of the Regions. Two institutions rarely in the spotlight, often viewed as peripheral, yet they quietly play a role in shaping the Union from the inside.
At the EESC, we’re welcomed by Adela Buruzan and Katerina Serifi, who walk us through the institution’s role and internal workings. Made up of representatives from employers’ organisations, trade unions, and civil society, the EESC doesn’t pass laws. Its power lies in issuing opinions, to nuance, complete, or challenge EU policy proposals. We’re told that some of these opinions have even been adopted word-for-word into official directives, without much public awareness.
Three members then present their work:
- Decebal-Ștefăniță Pădure, for the employers’ group;
- Véronique Salis-Madinier, for the workers’ group;
- Andreas Thurner, for the civil society group.
The topics range from social rights to artificial intelligence. The session ends with a symbolic vote on the most compelling project, giving us a better grasp of the committee’s internal dynamics.
In the afternoon, the tone shifts. We attend an official meeting of the SOC section, focused in part on the final review of Opinion SOC/823, which addresses the loss of purchasing power and rising inequalities across the EU. This time, we’re here as observers. The text is presented by María del Carmen Barrera Chamorro and Marie-Pierre Le Breton. What follows is a series of votes on the final amendments. Some are quickly adopted; others spark brief but pointed exchanges. Every word is weighed. A phrase too directive, a missing nuance, a reference left out, and the debate picks up again.
Two things stand out: the precision of the process, and the quiet choreography of simultaneous interpretation into fifteen official EU languages. One by one, members speak in their native tongues, and interpreters echo them from behind glass. Multilingualism here isn’t symbolic, it’s essential to making the process work.
As for the content, the opinion tackles issues rarely addressed so clearly: energy poverty, low wages, child poverty, access to essential services. It calls for structural measures, a common framework for decent incomes, and better coordination of fiscal policies. The opinion isn’t binding, but it carries weight and speaks to urgent social realities with unusual clarity.
No journalists here, but a rare glimpse into technical, often invisible political work. A reminder that Europe isn’t built only in high-level summits: it’s also debated here, line by line, word by word.
Conclusion
I didn’t know exactly what to expect when I arrived. A week later, I’m leaving with quite a few answers, and, more importantly, better questions. Seeing the institutions from the inside doesn’t change everything, but it shifts your perspective. You begin to grasp the power dynamics, the routines, and the silences too. You get this strange sense of being a small part of something much larger than yourself. It’s not a revelation, but it’s definitely a step sideways from what you read in textbooks.
And then, there’s Brussels. Not just the institutional side of it, but the city beyond: evenings between two exhibitions, walking across town when the metro was down, beers at Delirium, and late-night festivals in unlikely places. That matters too. Because it lets you break away from the usual pace of Lausanne, take some distance, without losing touch. And sometimes, even the most mundane elements feel symbolic: crossing Place Jean Rey, taking the metro at Schuman, walking past the rue de la Loi. As a Swiss student made more aware of these questions thanks to the Fondation Jean Monnet pour l’Europe, it’s moving to see the very idea of European integration embedded in the everyday geography of a city. It’s subtle, but it’s there, written into the streets.
This BIP wasn’t an internship, nor a typical course, and certainly not an Erasmus. Then again, maybe it was a bit of all three. Either way, it’s a programme that gives you access to things you would never have seen otherwise. If you’re genuinely interested in European issues beyond the surface level, I wholeheartedly recommend it. Not to confirm what you already believe, but to learn how to challenge it more clearly.
And above all, thank you to the professors and fellow students who made this week so intense. And thank you, Europe, for funding projects like this one.
Gwendoline Munsch
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