Sitting on the north-western edge of Europe, Northern Ireland feels far removed from the perilous plight of helpless refugees crossing the Mediterranean in the hope of reaching the continent’s southern shore. And it feels far removed from their long journey over land. Belfast’s Central Station lies 1183 miles from Budapest’s Keleti Station, where thousands of refugees have been camping out in the desperate hope of being allowed to board trains to Germany. It is all too easy to see the problem as distant, and so one that we can’t do much about. It’s the kind of thinking that stifles European leadership on the gravest issue of our time.

Being less geographically distant doesn’t seem to lessen the sense of removal from human tragedy. Only today the Hungarian Prime Minister declared that it is not his country’s problem, or even Europe’s problem, but rather Germany’s problem. He has chosen to remove himself from the crisis and expect other countries to assume responsibility. That is the kind of action, or inaction, that has come to epitomize the failure of European Union member states to provide what is needed in the face of crisis: bold, collective leadership. Let’s not pretend that the issue isn’t complex, and one for which Europe alone is responsible. However, if we are to have a hope of resolving this crisis, leaders and citizens must contemplate the values that we as Europeans wish to uphold in the global community. We can do this in two ways.

First, Europe needs to reconnect with its own history. The Europe of 2015 is not the Europe of 1945 or 1989. We have moved a long way. With the passing of a matter of decades, it is easy to forget what that journey involved. The refugees who protested outside Keleti Station yesterday didn’t do so in the name of living standards or material wealth. They did so in the name of freedom.

The Second World War was fought in defence of freedom, against the tyranny sweeping Europe and beyond. That was not in vain. As Sir Winston Churchill said, “the cause of freedom has in it a recuperative power and virtue which can draw from misfortune new hope and new strength.” Standing up for the freedom of those who seek it is surely not a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength.

Of course, not all of Europe was free after 1945. Citizens behind the Iron Curtain would not be free for at least another forty-five years. We must remember that before the collapse of communism across central and eastern Europe, millions of refugees fled to the west. We should also remember that one of the critical moments that helped bring about the fall of the Berlin Wall was the decision of the Hungarian regime to ease its border restrictions with Austria. The Iron Curtain was, for decades, a very real thing. It represented a real gap in living standards between East and West but, most importantly, it represented a gap between people who lacked freedom and those who had it.

The civil war in Syria has been ongoing for more than four years. Four miserable years. Hundreds of thousands have been killed, while more than 7.6 million Syrians have been displaced due to indiscriminate conflict. European leaders and citizens must understand that those who manage to escape Syria are not simply trying to find a better life; they are doing so for their lives. The modern history of Europe has been defined by the struggle for freedom. How can we, as Europeans, fail to connect with those who come to our shores as fellow seekers of freedom?

Second, we as Europeans need to reconnect to our own humanity. In an interview yesterday David Cameron told the BBC, “I don’t think there is an answer that can be achieved simply by taking more and more refugees.” I couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable he looked and sounded. The ultimate responsibility for the current crisis must surely lie with the perpetrators of war in Syria, Iraq, Eritrea and beyond, as well as the merciless traffickers who profit from human vulnerability. The refugees arriving in Europe, however, have become our responsibility. Much to her credit, Angela Merkel recognises this. It is time that David Cameron responded to her calls for other EU countries to accept their fair share of refugees too.

Nigel Farage, meanwhile, likens the current crisis to an “exodus of biblical proportions.” I am glad that he chooses to invoke the Bible, as I hope he intends to read more of it. If he turns to the Gospel according to Luke, he will come across the well-known story of the Good Samaritan. What we sometimes miss about this story is the motivation of the person asking Jesus the question, “And who is my neighbour?” (Luke 10: 29) It was a lawyer who had just informed Jesus that he understood the importance of loving his neighbour as himself, the ‘Golden Rule’. His subsequent question to clarify the definition of the neighbour is commonly understood to mean that he was trying to probe Jesus for exceptions to the ‘Golden Rule’: surely some people were his neighbours, but others could be conveniently ignored? Many will know that the neighbour defined by Jesus was not the priest or the tribe elder, but rather the Samaritan outsider who showed mercy. “Go and do likewise,” instructed Jesus (Luke 10: 37). Perhaps Mr Farage would reflect on these words of truly biblical proportions.

The depths of our humanity are hardly tested when times are good. Our humanity is tested in the face of a challenge. The challenge facing the member states of the European Union in 2015 is one that will test the historical awareness and the humanity of our leaders – and citizens. It is too early to tell whether or not the heartbreaking image of three-year-old Aylan Kurdi being carried off a Turkish beach marks a true turning point in how Europe collectively responds. Have we become so removed from the humanitarian tragedy on our continent that we remain indifferent, or will we finally accept that this crisis is now our crisis? The answer will determine what it means to be a European in 2015.