Tag Archives: opinion

Shut Up or Go Home – No Culture Likes a Kibitzer

I was recently interviewed for an article about third-culture kids, to be published in the Christian Science Monitor. In an hour,s taped phone conversation, Erik Olsen asked many questions, including: “Being an outsider in all cultures, how does that make you feel?” I thought for a moment, and said: “Superior.”

No doubt that statement will be quoted in the article. <wry grin> I tried to explain that, as outsiders in every culture, we TCKs see things with a more objective eye than insiders who are familiar only with their own culture*. This doesn’t mean that we despise every culture we encounter, or have nothing but criticism to offer. But it’s common for a TCK to think: “In country X they do this differently, and it seems to have certain advantages. Why couldn’t it be done that way here?” This is NOT the stereotypical case of ugly Americans who think that everything is better in America. In fact, most TCKs, including American ones, tend to criticize their “home” culture more than any other.

The problem is: no one wants to hear it. Cultures and countries often suffer from a form of groupthink in which “our way is best” or “we’ve always done it this way, why should we change?”And people resent criticism of their culture, however well-intended, from outsiders.

I was reminded of this when last week’s article about Italian Freedom Fighters got a few Italian backs up. I was accused (justifiably, for that article) of stereotyping Italians as a race of unrepentant scofflaws. Of course I don’t really believe that ALL Italians routinely break the law, though I do feel safe in asserting that a larger proportion of Italians than, say, Americans or Germans or Swiss, are inclined to disregard or evade laws that are inconvenient to them individually, such as those regarding taxes. This attitude goes all the way to the top in Italy, with consequences far beyond the embarrassment of having people in high government posts under indictment for tax evasion, bribery, and fraud.

I can take some ironic consolation in knowing that, if that article had been written by an Italian, many Italians would have leaped to agree with it. Italians (as they themselves have told me) are very fond of criticizing themselves and their country – but apparently it’s not okay for me to do it.

Then I received an irate email from an Italian woman living in England. She took exception to a number of my statements about the Italian education system, and pointed out how much better it is than the British or American systems. I will certainly grant that for the average American public school (I don’t know enough about the British to comment), but the point of most of my articles was not to compare the Italian system (favorably or un-) with other systems. We’re in Italy, and can’t afford the international schools even if we wanted to, so our daughter goes to Italian public schools which, while they have pluses, also have minuses – as is true of ANY school system.

What got to me about this lady’s email was her concluding sentence (originally in Italian): “Don’t denigrate the country in which you are a guest. As they tell me and my kids when we comment on England: ‘If you do’t like it, go back to your own country.’ ”

This isn’t the first time I’ve heard this sort of statement, though it is a first for me in Italy. It raises some questions: At what point will I have a “right” to criticize? How long does it take to no longer be a “guest” but a member of the community? I’ve been in Italy for 14 years, my husband and daughter are Italian, I work for an Italian company. All that’s lacking is citizenship, and I could have that if I bothered to do the paperwork. At the very least, as a payer of Italian taxes, I have a right to complain when I’m not getting my money’s worth from state services – perhaps more so than the many Italians who evade taxes!

But, no matter how long I live here, there will always be Italians who will resent anything negative I have to say about Italy, and will invite me to “go home.” The sad irony is that the same thing happens at “home“ Americans are, on average, the LEAST tolerant of criticism of their culture, from insiders or outsiders. Many’s the time I was told: “If you don’t like it, you can just leave.” So I did.

And you still can hear me singin’ to the people who don’t listen,
To the things that I am sayin’, prayin’ someone’s gonna hear.
And I guess I’ll die explaining how the things that they complain about,
Are things they could be changin’, hopin’ someone’s gonna care.

I was born a lonely singer, and I’m bound to die the same,
But I’ve got to feed the hunger in my soul.
And if I never have a nickel, I won’t ever die ashamed,
‘Cause I don’t believe that no one wants to know.

Kris Kristofferson “To Beat the Devil”

Note: The term “culture,” as used by anthropologists, means (definition Webster’s): “the ideas, customs, skills, arts, etc. of a people or group, that are transferred, communicated, or passed along, as in or to succeeding generations.” Culture, in this sense, is a shared set of beliefs and behaviors, and does NOT refer to so-called “high culture,” e.g. art and music.

Share your own cultural kibitzes below.

Immigration and Identity in Europe

(originally published in 2002)

The assassination of Pim Fortuyn, a Dutch politician, provides food for thought. Fortuyn was “a politician who rejected multiculturalism, called for an end to immigration and excoriated Islam as a ‘backward culture’ for its intolerance of homosexuals, attitude to women and more” and “argue[d] fiercely that immigrants should integrate more wholeheartedly with the host nation.” (The Economist, May 9 and April 25, 2002). Fortuyn raised valid questions about immigration and cultural identity, questions that European countries urgently need to answer.

Due to low birthrates, there is a shortage of “native” European babies, and Europe faces a demographic decline which will lead to a disproportion between the number of people being paid state pensions, and the number of people in the workforce paying the taxes to pay those pensions. Europe needs an inflow of young people to fill the demographic gap, and to do the menial jobs that native Europeans consider beneath them. There is demand for labor, and it is supplied, both legally and il-, by economic migration from poorer countries.
Yet immigration worries many Europeans. The ugly side of these fears is expressed in support for extremists like Le Pen in France. Balanced thinkers like Fortuyn, however, deserve a hearing. He posed important questions about the mutual rights and obligations of immigrants and their new home countries.

The big question is integration: How much should immigrants be expected to adopt the values and mores of their new countries? The issues are thorny when people from more repressive cultures immigrate to liberal ones (and the Netherlands’ is one of the most liberal in the world!). Which practices can or should be defended on the grounds of culture and tradition?

Some obvious lines are drawn. Clitoridectomy (“female genital mutilation“) is illegal in European countries; some women have successfully bid for political asylum to avoid being sent back to countries where they would be forced to undergo it. But other cultural conundrums run the gamut from arranged marriage, to Muslim girls covering their heads in school.

There are even culture clashes between first- and second-generation immigrants, sadly illustrated by the case of Fadime Sahindal. She moved with her Kurdish family to Sweden when she was seven, and attended Swedish schools. So she grew up between cultures, a third-culture kid, neither wholly Swedish nor wholly Kurdish. Her parents nonetheless expected that she would behave as Kurdish girls traditionally do, e.g. submit to a marriage arranged by them, with a Kurdish man. She defied them by falling in love with a Swedish man, and was murdered by her own father for “dishonoring” her family. (More)

“European populations are aging, and cannot maintain their welfare states without massive immigration; immigration from Islamic countries threatens to change European values inalterably.” (Rod Dreher, National Review Online)

Pim Fortuyn had reason to fear such changes. He was flamboyantly gay – not a problem for most Dutch, but anathema to many conservative Muslims, even those living in Holland. His murder just before the elections may already have changed the Dutch political mindset: “Mr Balkenende [expected to be the next prime minister] repudiated the country’s multicultural approach to immigration and said newcomers should assimilate with Dutch culture.” (The Economist, May 16, 2002)

Jan 28, 2007 – Revisiting this article nearly five years later, it’s hard to say that much has changed for the better. The Netherlands is having an identity crisis, spurred on the one hand by a tradition of tolerance, on the other by events like the religiously-inspired murder of director Theo van Gogh.

Italy has had its own “honor” killing. Last summer a twenty-year-old woman of Pakistani descent, raised mostly in Italy, was murdered by her father and uncle for dishonoring the family by refusing an arranged marriage and living with an Italian man. Her relatives slit her throat and buried her in the garden.

A colleague told me of a friend of hers, a north African woman in her 30s who has been in Italy for many years and lives with her Italian boyfriend. But now that her family is coming to visit from the home country (yes, I am being deliberately vague), she is going through an elaborate ruse to hide the real facts of her life, for fear that her family would literally kill her were they to find out that she is living in sin. This woman must either submit to the will of her family (marry a Muslim man of their choosing) or live in subterfuge and danger forever. Or renounce her family, but it’s possible that this would not save her life, should the family consider itself dishonored by her behavior. How is an open, tolerant society like Italy’s supposed to deal with this? What can we do to help her and others like her?

Your thoughts?

see also Integration of Muslim Students in Italian Schools

Coming Out (to me)

Dec 27, 2006 – revised and expanded Jan 12, 2008

I grew up in a household without homophobia: one of my dad’s childhood friends was gay (and had known he was since age seven), a fact which never bothered Dad, who had other gay and lesbian friends in high school and college. No one ever told me otherwise, so, if I thought about it at all, I assumed that being gay was simply an aspect of a person, no more surprising or shocking than their race, religion, or native language.

I didn’t actually have much exposure – knowingly – to gay people until I got to college. Woodstock School in India in my day was tolerant of every other aspect of humanity except homosexuality, but its tacit intolerance of that was based more on ignorance than revulsion. In India, it was customary for men to walk down the street arm in arm or hand in hand with men, and women with women, while it was forbidden for men and women to have physical contact in public. This aspect of Indian culture was cause for some imported discomfort among Woodstock school boys (many of them American), so our public displays of affection were rigorously heterosexual – and those were forbidden by school rules, out of respect for Indian (and Christian missionary) culture.

So, although there were gay people at Woodstock when I was there, at the time I was neither aware of them nor sensitive to the issues of gayness. Some of those gay people were not themselves aware of it then – not surprising, in that environment.

I therefore arrived at college in the US with complete tolerance for, matched by near-complete ignorance of, American gay culture. (I loved “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” which is in some sense a celebration of sexuality in all its forms, but too camp to be a useful guide to average gay comportment!)

I don’t remember particularly noticing any gay people around me in my first year or two of college (except at that Joan Armatrading concert in Santa Cruz). Then I got a crush on a guy who, though happy to spend time in my company, was oddly elusive, and always talking about his sisters – I grew confused as to how many sisters he had! He didn’t respond to my low-key, clumsy attempts at flirtation, but I was used to that – I wasn’t any good at flirting, and guys tended to either not notice at all, or run away screaming.

Eventually he came out to me, which resolved my increasing confusion, though I don’t now remember what specifically was said. We remained good friends, and I had my first experiences of open gay culture – most memorably, a disco party at which all the men and all the (straight) women threw themselves enthusiastically onto the dance floor for “It’s Raining Men”.

Sometime during the 1990s, during one of my frequent US trips, a Woodstock schoolmate took the unprecedented – and for her very scary – step of coming out to me. Or, at least, she tried to. She came to Boston to visit me from Northampton, MA, a town which I now know is reputed to be “the lesbian capital of America.” I didn’t know that then, and knew even less about lesbians than I did about gay men. My poor friend dropped any number of hints, and must have begun to wonder if I was being wilfully ignorant.

Finally she said: “I bought a pickup truck. I felt it would make a statement.”

I stared at her blankly. “A statement of what? That you move a lot?” (Having to frequently pack up one’s household to move was the only reason I could think of to own a truck.)

She almost gave up at that point. It wasn’t until she was on the step of the train, about to leave to return to Northampton, that she blurted out: “I wanted to tell you: I’m lesbian.”

“Uh, okay,” I answered, or something similarly lame. And the train pulled out. I felt terrible that I hadn’t understood her in time to have a real conversation about it, but I certainly wasn’t perturbed by the fact in itself, and we had plenty of later opportunities to talk about it.

Some years later, leaving California after a business trip, I used a phone in the business class lounge at the airport to have a long conversation with her about the wisdom or otherwise of coming out to our schoolmates. (I was in favor.) When I finally hung up the phone, a man sitting nearby gave me a huge smile. I supposed he was gay and liked what he had heard me saying.

My next new gay friend, years later, was Gianluca, a colleague in California. I was initially attracted to him, which I should have taken as a signal: somehow, most of the men for whom I feel more than a momentary attraction turn out to be gay. Perhaps it’s a marriage-saving reflex: I’m rarely attracted to any man who might actually be a threat to my husband.

It took some time for me to figure out that Gianluca was gay, and even longer for him to come out to me. Once we went to see some art film, and there was a trailer for a foreign movie about women’s sexuality. “Oh, I want to see that,” I exclaimed. Gianluca seemed completely uninterested.

Instead, he wanted to see “Jeffrey,” a film about a gay man. I figured that, while a red-blooded heterosexual man might reluctantly go along with someone else’s suggestion to see a gay film (as my college boyfriend had), he was not likely to propose it himself.

So we went to see it, and both laughed our asses off (it’s a cute movie, and was ground-breaking at the time). As we sat in the emptying theater afterwards, an obviously gay couple came up to chat with Gianluca. “Well,” I thought to myself, “I may not be sure he’s gay – but they are!”

It was that same evening or soon after that he finally invited me to see his apartment. As he threw open the door he said, “Now you’re going to see a whole new side of me!” The art posters of nude men on the walls came as no surprise whatsoever. So Gianluca officially came out to me, and we had a long talk about that.

Gianluca had led a sheltered childhood, and as a child was confused about the feelings he felt. He told me that at age 14 he finally learned that homosexuality existed, while watching a TV program on AIDS. So he simultaneously realized that he was gay, and became convinced that he was condemned to die.

It was heartbreaking to me to think of a child living with such enormous fears, all alone, feeling unable to talk to anybody about it. I don’t want that to happen to any other teenager if I can do anything to help.

The long dance around Gianluca’s finally coming out to me also made me understand just how fraught this process can be. I could feel vaguely insulted to think that anyone wouldn’t instantly know that I am homophobia-free. On the other hand, it seems utterly absurd that, in modern society, gay people feel the need to be so very careful. Oh, I totally understand their reasons – I just think it’s crazy that society forces that caution upon them. I have a lifelong habit of telling people exactly who I am and what I think. I had never realized what a luxury that is. I cannot imagine always having to weigh what you’re going to say to whom – and most of the time concluding that it’s probably safer to hide a large part of who you are from most people. This, too, is terribly sad.

I would like to think that everyone I care about feels free to be absolutely who they really are with me. So I have no patience with waiting to get to “do I know you well enough to tell you I’m gay?” – and my gaydar is now developed enough that I’ve usually figured it out long before we get there. I give the other party every possible opening (in tête-à-tête situations, to protect their privacy), dropping heavy hints to let them know that “If you were gay, it’d be okay.”

My reward is that moment of relaxation, a visible unclenching, when the person realizes that I’m not going to freak out, that I accept and like them as they are. And then a true friendship can begin.

Escape from America

I recently ran across a reference to a forthcoming new book, “Getting Out: Your Guide to Leaving America,” by Mark Ehrman. Here’s the blurb for it from Amazon:

Had enough?

Whether you find the government oppressive, the economy spiraling out of control, or if you simply want adventure, you’re not alone. In increasing numbers, the idea is talked about openly: Expatriate.

Over three hundred thousand Americans emigrate each year, and more than a million go to foreign lands for lengthy stays.

“Getting Out shows you where you can most easily gain residence, citizenship, or work permits; where can you live for a fraction of the cost of where you’re living now; and what countries would be most compatible with your lifestyle, gender, age, or political beliefs.

So if you’ve had enough of what they’re selling here and want to take your life elsewhere – well, isn’t that the American way? At any rate, it’s not illegal. Not yet, anyway.

I have not and probably won’t read this book, so can’t vouch for its usefulness, accuracy, etc. But it’s highly interesting that it is being published (and marketed in this way), and I will be curious to see how well it sells.

Not surprisingly, many people write to me because they’ve found my website while searching for information about how to move to Italy. A largeish proportion of these, and others who share their goal, phrase it in exactly those terms: “I want to get out of America.”

You may think: “Who cares? They may be wanting to get out, but there are tens of millions of immigrants wanting to get IN.”

Yes, but” Those trying to get in are mostly economic migrants, for whom America is still the land of opportunity – or at least a lot more opportunity than where they came from. Even minimum wage and no health care at Wal-Mart looks better than starvation.

But the people looking to get OUT of America are most often liberal intellectuals, educated people who have much to give their country, but find themselves increasingly troubled by what America seems to be losing: freedom, dignity, tolerance, righteousness (as opposed to self-righteousness – got plenty o’ that).

I am already expatriated, but in the last few years, I’ve had several moments in which I thought of renouncing my American citizenship. Abu Ghraib was the first: an America that tortures is not the America I thought I knew. (And now: go ahead – it’s legal!) The second moment was Hurricane Katrina. An America that can leave thousands of its own people to die in squalor and think it’s doing a good job – that’s not the America I loved.

And now habeas corpus is effectively suspended. On any visit to America, my (non-citizen) husband could be thrown into prison on the government’s whim, for any or no reason, and held without trial, even tortured, indefinitely. It could even happen to me, a regular US citizen.

I could turn a blind eye – my family don’t have Muslim names or brown skins, surely we’re safe? But I have friends with both brown skins and Muslim names. What happens to them, happens to me. And what’s happening now should not happen to anybody. In civilized countries, even terrorists get trials. Hell, even in Iraq, Saddam bloody Hussein is having a trial with a lawyer for his defense. How can America – ostensibly bringing the fruits of democracy to Iraq – do less?

Something is seriously broken in America. No wonder that many “native Americans” are thinking about getting out.

Your thoughts?

Violent America: Why I Don’t Feel Safe in My Own Country

I return to the US, my putative homeland, at least once a year, and even when not there, I (like most of the world) have constant access to American culture via movies, TV shows, and websites. In spite of all this, I feel ever more a stranger when I land there. I can’t put my finger on why. Have I become more European? (Whatever that means.) I don’t feel European, or Italian, but lately I don’t feel particularly American either.

Perhaps I’ve become unaccustomed to some of America’s standard features, such as the plethora of churches – in many states juxtaposed with huge store signs advertising guns.

Guns, yes, that’s a factor. America feels less safe to me than Europe. One big reason is that there are far more guns around in the US, waiting to be snatched up and fired in a moment of rage. I have often thought, at times when I’m almost mad enough to throw dishes, that if there was a gun to hand, I’d be at risk of using it. So I’m glad there aren’t any in our house, and I prefer to stay away from guns altogether – I don’t trust myself with them, let alone anybody else.

Are Americans inherently more violent, with or without guns? On our way back from North Carolina, Susan and I were very irritated, even worried, by a pickup truck that hugged our bumper in fast, heavy highway traffic. I turned around and made a pushing-back motion with my hands, trying to indicate to the driver that he should give us more room. Susan snatched my hands down, saying: “Don’t do that. You never know, here.” (Susan lives in Abu Dhabi, and says it’s the safest place she’s ever lived.) I do exactly this in Italy, and it never occurred to me that anyone might consider it a shooting offense.

Reflect on the recent confrontation, at a children’s baseball game, between all four grandparents and the father of a boy at the center of an ugly custody dispute, reported thus in the local paper:

“[The maternal grandmother], Patricia Noe… may have sparked the confrontation when she said something to Jerry Shands [the father] and pointed an umbrella at him, the district attorney said.

"Then, of course, he says, ‘Get that blankety-blank thing out of my face.’ … And the next thing you hear is pop, pop, pop (from Samuel Noe’s gun)."

Three people dead, one critically injured, and the boy himself a witness. Which begs the question: Who the hell goes armed to a kids’ baseball game? And in how many parts of America is it legal to do so? I don’t want to live in any place where an angry grandpa can just whip out a gun and start shooting – because, god knows, we wouldn’t want to infringe on his right to bear arms and protect his grandson from a bad umpire call!

Yet Americans seem to take this potential for violence for granted. Reporting on this week’s “incident” in a Colorado school, the New York Times says: “Gov. Bill Owens, who visited the school and the church Thursday afternoon, said he thought school security improvements made in Bailey after the 1999 attack at Columbine High School in nearby Littleton had probably kept Wednesday’s attack from being worse. The school was built with evacuation fully in mind, including a system that allowed students in adjoining classrooms to escape quickly…”

Huh? Schools are now being built with evacuation in mind? I already knew that in some districts people have to go through metal detectors to get into a school in the first place, but – evacuation? And we’re not talking about al Qaeda here – the danger is from ordinary American citizens, including the schoolkids themselves.

What kind of society is America’s that kids have to spend their school days under the assumption that at any moment they could be rounded up and shot? Is that how we want American children to be growing up? How can such an atmosphere produce psychologically healthy citizens? It’s not videogames that inure kids to violence: it’s what they see every day on the news and in their daily lives!

What could have stopped this week’s tragedy would have been to ensure that some random guy who didn’t even have a home address did NOT HAVE A GUN. How could he have legally bought it if there’s no address to do a background check on him? If he got it illegally, why was that allowed to happen?

What makes America even scarier is that the violence is not on the surface. Everyone we meet in America seems so nice, especially anyone in a customer service position (truly startling when you’re accustomed to the indifferent or downright hostile service culture of most European establishments). Yet, given the number of deaths, you have to wonder: how many of these nice people are ready to explode? And will find a weapon ready to hand when they do?

What are your thoughts?