Filed under: In Vino Veritas, In Aqua Sanitas | Tags: anger, Brexit, European Elections, European Union, Fear, Front National, Futur, Future, Ignorance, La Seconde Guerre mondiale, Le Pen, Macron, nationalism, Nigel Farage, Orban, Rassemblement National, Salvini, society, Trump, WWII, Xenophobia

Filed under: In Vino Veritas, In Aqua Sanitas | Tags: Bigotry, European Elections, European Union, Excellence, Far Right Politicians, France, humanity, Le Pen, Macron, National Debates, Politics, society, WWII, Xenophobia, Yellow Vests
An excerpt from a letter to a friend today:
Thank you my dear. Always.
I remember a friend who is a public defender in my home state (another thankless, hard job) telling me that he felt that it often feels like you’re rolling a boulder up a hill over-and-over again in an effort to help humanity, or at least to stave off its inevitable decline. However, if you CAN roll the boulder up the hill, you have a moral obligation to do so.
Which reminds me, I watched Macron give a (long) speech in response to the Yellow Vest protests and at the conclusion of a two-month series of ‘national debates’ in which he had been traveling around France meeting people in small towns in order to hear their views and complaints. I felt like weeping: his grasp of the complicated conceptual elements that make societies function, to thrive, are astounding. And his knowledge of the tedious, practical details of governance are impressive (can you imagine Trump doing this?!). He had notes, but he would ‘go off’ on tangents, addressing each-and-every point (the growing sense that governments seem inaccessible to the general public, for example), and explaining WHY he would not fight for one thing or another (blank votes, for example). I felt like weeping because I thought that I’m so impressed and relieved that there ARE politicians out there like him that DO know something about governing (history, sociology, law, economics, geography, rhetoric, etc.), and are showing accountability by the mere fact that they’re acknowledging the grievances and worries of their citizens; that these leaders seem to be SO few-and-far between, making someone like Macron a surprise; but it should be the standard we hold ALL politicians to! And I also felt like weeping because I know that in general the French don’t like him (they think he’s arrogant and a friend of big moneyĀ because of his background) and will consequently vote him out in the next election…
I fear, too, for the upcoming European elections, where cynical far-right politicians are exploiting people’s ignorance, impotence and anger – in France, Hungary, Austria, and Italy, for example, where they are promoting anti-immigrant and euro skeptic views – and these political parties will likely gain power in the EU parliament.
Why can’t people learn from history? Or even the recent history of the USA and England and the deteriorating state they’re in culturally and practically?!
That said, Spain did NOT vote for the far-right party that was promoting guns in every household, thank goodness. Hope lives another day. (Even as the far-right party there now has access to parliamentary power – a terrifying global phenomena akin to global politics in the 1930’s).
Am going to watch some good TV programming now and pour myself a large glass of wine. Finished watching “Fleabag” season 2 last night – breathtakingly excellent!
And excellence, to me, in any realm, is like ‘god’ (for want of a better word) ā a raison d’ĆŖtre.
Love to you, my excellent friend, v.
Filed under: In Vino Veritas, In Aqua Sanitas | Tags: American, Culture, emigration, France, Identity, nationalism, society, Third Culture, travel, Xenophobe, Xenophobia
My identity was a big issue when I was a teenager, and I had a lot of questions, like: ‘Who am I?’ ‘Who do I belong to?’ But when I was still quite young, I decided that belonging is a tough process in life, and I’d better say I belonged to myself and the world rather than belonging to one nationality or another. Hiam Abbass
I feel great sentiment for the land in which I was born, the USA. I feel pride that Iām from the state of Oregon, and I appreciate my childhood there as something rather exotic to my present reality, and Iām grateful for it. But I also feel sentimental about the other countries Iāve lived in ā Scotland, England, France – and empathy with other countries that Iāve known well, Denmark and Germany. Each of them in their unique ways approximates my notion of āhome,ā which I define as where you feel a sense of familiarity and love. However, I donāt feel nationalistic about any of these countries, meaning that I donāt believe one is ābetterā than another, or feel prouder with my affiliation with one country over another–I appreciate each of them in different ways, just as Iām also critical of each of them. Even so, Iām identified as an American ā with all of its constructs and connotations – everywhere I go because my accent defines who I am for others. This, despite my peripatetic background, or the fact Iām also a naturalized French woman, and even as I donāt share the values, ideas, and desires most Americans have faith in, such as the American Dream.
That said, any latent Yankee tendencies in me ā forthrightness, warmth, enthusiasm, and the propensity to vomit my life story upon meeting someone ā came to the fore when I moved to France. Over thirteen years in London, with no American friends, had prompted me to be more polite, more discreet, more modest, and dryer in my humour. In France, being direct, even confrontational, and more opinionated, seems appreciated by the natives. Iām not sure if this dormant Yankee in me came to the fore because I moved from England, a country in which I shared the language, to being a complete outsider linguistically in France and, therefore, I reverted back to my American manners once England was not influencing me daily. Or whether American and French comportment compatibility, as well as a shared, allied history, instinctively felt more complementary than English and French. What I have discovered over the last nine years in France, as I observe how people speak to me, or behave towards me, is that a personās perception of an American and the USA, can loosely be classified into four distinct types:
The first are those that are automatically and openly hostile to me because Iām a foreigner. This includes the English expatriates who have disdain for Americans (always the case, not because of Trump and his administration).
Thereās the pseudo political sophisticate. They think theyāre well travelled because theyāve travelled outside of Europe, read some news, enjoy film and television, and speak two languages. In discussion, these folks will proffer an opinion on American politics that is extremely critical, not particularly discerning, and then apologize to me for saying whatever theyāve said as though Iām personally responsible for American society and its politics or I hold these views myself.
True sophisticates exist. They are those who have lived in a few countries, perhaps had a few long time lovers or spouses from countries other than their own, and consider another personās nationality only as information for a contextual perspective of a given person. Iāve learned a great deal from their example, too, such as learning to deprioritize my own trigger response to a personās nationality or accent. For example, not all English people are funny, nor do all Russians hide money.
The fourth type, though not so prevalent these days, is the wide-eyed American ideologue. They have holidayed in the USA or theyād LOVE to visit the USA, especially Disneyworld, New York, and Yosemite. They rave about how friendly Americans are. These folks regularly buy clothing and paraphilia with American slogans, flags, and iconic images that they think are ācoolā or confirm their romantic image of the USA. They generally watch a lot of television, perhaps a few popular films, and arenāt āinterestedā in politics. They think itās great that Iām a āYankā but theyāll never see me as anything but this.
And, like most people, I imagine myself as unique and complicated, not simply relegated to a national identity because of my deeply entrenched accent. Iād prefer to have the reasonable judgement against me that Iām a shit mimic or lack any real talent for language acquisition.
All countries have their merits and demerits, but one (ideally) chooses to live in a place that suits your needs and values most. While I believe in the competition inherent in Capitalism, I think that without concerted regulation, enforcement, and fair taxation, it manifests into the perversion of inequality we see today. Capitalism is the bedrock of the USA, and what Iām about to say might mark me as a āredā or a ācommieā to many stateside, which Iām not: I donāt believe your work defines who you are as a person. I believe āsuccessā is measured by the amount of time you have for leisure in relation to material needs having been met. I value reading books highly, and those that read them regularly are those that I believe are intelligent. I believe healthcare, access to a good public education, and safe housing are universal rights. I believe in modest portions of food at regular sittings, and Iām disdainful of fad diets. I believe in minimal consumption of goods, and collective conservation enforced by law. I believe smoking only kills the person doing it, and negative judgement about it indicates a type of puritanical moralism. Likewise regarding drinking.
Perhaps it was the influence of my educator activist parents who took me with them on their many travels and sabbaticals, and wereĀ embarrassingly progressive throughout my life. Perhaps it has been the influence of my fair-minded husbands, German and Danish, respectively. Perhaps itās that I read a lot. Perhaps its that Iāve lived, been educated, and worked in several countries over the entirety of my life and been influenced by a variety of people of all creeds, races, cultures, and nationalities. Iām not sure, but itās a curious and sometimes frustrating phenomena when considered in light of rising nationalism throughout the world. If there is any nationalistic tendency in me (and please note that Iām suspicious of humanity regardless of origin) itād be towards France. I deeply love French culture ā its food, its literature, its history, its geography, its weather, its films, its general philosophy on life, and its approach to governance. However, even as Iām French in spirit and hold a French passport, I will never sound like a French person and consequently I wonāt ever be truly accepted as one of them. I will always be l’Ć©tranger.
My son, however, who has neither my propensity towards self-absorption (other than the normal level accompanying his seven years), nor the tendency to āoverthink,ā has a slightly different reality. One parent is Danish, one is American French. He speaks Danish with his father, English with me, and French at school and during his extracurricular activities. Additionally, when he speaks English, he has a unique accent ā he doesnāt pronounce his āthāsā as English speakers do, his vowels vary between the French as well as the English expatriate influences, yet his dialogue is interspersed with American idioms. Recently, a teacher of his called together eight little boys from his class, including my son, who had been harassing others on the playground in order to have a conversation with them about the similarities and differences between people and why we should appreciate these contrasts. She told me later that each of the boys, when asked what their respective nationalities are, adopted their parentsā nationalities: āIām German,ā āIām Italian,ā āIām Swedish,ā āIām English,ā etc., despite the fact that most of them had been born and were being raised in France. My son was the only one who said āIām French.ā Not Danish, as his father is, or American, as I am also, and despite holding these passports, too. France is the country he unequivocally identifies with. In fact, during the World Cup 2018, France was playing Denmark in one of the quarterfinal games and my sonās father wanted him to wear his Danish football costume. Being considerate, my son did so, but at one point, out of earshot of his father, he told me that he felt āstrangeā wearing Denmarkās uniform when he actually wanted France to win the game: āYou see mommy, I donāt know Denmark or the USA…yes, Iāve been to these countries and I have family in these places, and thatās something, I know…but I really only know France…and I really want to wear Franceās football uniform.ā
Arguably, my sonās a potential nationalist and is being indoctrinated to Franceās mores given his environment. But I doubt this, given his parentage and the perspectives that provides. And, I hope, heāll live, study, and work in other countries, garnering more information and consequent insights than even I will have experienced because I do not have multiple languages natively. But my point remains: my son is viewed as a foreigner by the French given his parents, and viewed as a Dane or an American depending on who the (other) expatriate emigrant is, but he, himself, does not accept any of this. Similarly, I may have a strong American accent that creates the impressions and judgements of others about me, but this is not primarily how I see myself.
In the interest of exploring nationalism and identity, Iām going to start asking people how they define themselves & others and why ā watch this space.
Filed under: From the Soap Box | Tags: Children, Education, France, Macron, Provincial, Trump, USA, Xenophobe, Xenophobia
http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20180702-the-epic-story-of-the-map-that-gave-america-its-name
Yet another way France and America are historically connected…
Ironic, however, how few of the French I meet everyday understand this affinity. The French (in general) view the English and the Americans as “the same thing” (the next one who says this to me directly will get the question as to whether they regard themselves to be the ‘same’ as the Swiss-French, given that they speak the same language, which they will most emphatically deny).
What’s worse, is that an anti “Anglais” is spreading throughout France. For example, the little French boy that is my son’s dear friend, told him the other day at school that he āhates the English.ā My son’s response was to say that he isnāt English, he’s American. The boy responded, āTheyāre the same thing.ā This did not stop the boy later that day and the next morning from coming to ours hoping to play with my son. I understand it’s the influence of the grandma – sheās a provincial person – but one sees how quickly the kids pick up these ignorant statements, even as they don’t understand what it means (much like those who propagate these types of ideas). I joined a field trip with my son’s class the other week, too, and a teacher had a ‘go’ at me for speaking English with a group of little boys (who are Swedish, Danish, English, and American) when it is a French speaking school. I gently admonished her not to be so parochial, that the children speak two or three languages and easily switch between them depending on their audience – “what a gift! So international!” Later, I heard her gossiping about me to a few of the other teachers, which I chose to ignore.
It also irritates me that the local, everyday French (in general) loathe Macron. Don’t get me started on their flawed ālogicā when theyĀ ‘explainā why heās so “terrible.” They also refuse to answer my question as to whether they prefer the Front National – and I do ask. Their lack of a response is an implicit response. These people remind me of Trumpsters in the USA with their bandwagon statements, hypocrisy, misinformation, and incomplete information/ideology.
It makes me so sad how the general populace of any place is ignorant of context, history, theory…so limited in critical and logical thinking and reasoning…and so naturally disposed to tribalism (lending itself to xenophobia) and aggression…