Stuck in limbo

Humans are paradoxical beings driven by nostalgia, fear and restlessness. We want to live in the past and future, we want change and for everything to stay the same. Why are we so indecisive? We all know, and sometimes say, the phrase that everything was better in the past. ‘Back in the days there were still real connections’ or ‘when I was little everything was so much easier’ are well-known sentiments that I also experience from time to time. On the other side of the spectrum is the sudden feeling that something has to change because we cannot go on like this any longer. Humans tend to handle the concept of time quite poorly, but why is our relationship with change also so dysfunctional?

Let’s starts with the past, often accompanied by nostalgia. How can we explain nostalgic driven politics? Romanticising the past plays a large role in its effectiveness. Seemingly, we tend to forget the flaws of history and focus on positive events. We don’t want to remember how we felt when our first relationship fell apart, rather, we want to remember the first time we fell in love. Additionally, nostalgia functions as a coping mechanism in times of social upheaval. When you feel existentially threatened, during times of social change, nostalgia gives you a familiar pillar you can hold on to[1]. Here, a link to conservatism is easy to make. Fearful of change, the stereotype conservatist feels threatened that their traditional values will soon cease to exist. However, nostalgia does not only belong to conservatists. I often find myself bound to the bitter-sweet emotion. A longing for my romanticised childhood seeps into me, while I do not care about traditional values or conservatism. Consequently, the emotion is deeply personal. This is of course a good emotion to use during political campaigns, because people are immediately invested; it makes politics personal.

Nevertheless, the feeling of nostalgia also illustrates that something in the present is lacking. The emotion is in itself paradoxical. Seemingly afraid of current change, nostalgic people want things to change, in order for them to be familiar again. People vote for parties that are not in power because they believe they represent those traditional values that they miss. However, change has to happen first to ‘get back’ to the past. Even though returning to the past is most probably impossible anyway as it has been romanticised too much; there is no such thing as ‘changing back’. Contrastingly, progressives might not be as driven by nostalgia, but also driven by their longing for change. This idea of change is much more focused on the future. They want to see change because the future should be better, brighter and fairer than it is now.

Does our difficult relationship with time, come from being discontent with the present? Maybe we pin our hopes on the past and the future, because of laziness. It is always easier to say that ‘it was’ or ‘it will’ be better, instead of trying to change things now. Perhaps we are afraid. What if we try to change things but it never does get better. Our perfect idea of how the world should exist does not translate to reality. Next to our complex relationship with change, we are not even sure if we are truly capable of it. If we want to believe the mathematic axiom of equality, then x=x, as famous ‘A Little Life’ author has stated. Applied to humans, that means that we are indeed incapable of change, as something in our core will always be x. That might explain why referring to the past and the future is so much easier, the notion that we might fail has been either answered already or remains unknown.

I think accepting change and accepting the notion of time is easier if we see time as a-linear. In modern and contemporary fiction the idea of time as a-linear is already present and tv series such as ‘Dark’ play with this concept as well. This means that the past, present and future all exist simultaneously. Deconstructing time in this way allows us to see the subjective notion of the concept. We measure time through beliefs that humans have invented, or as physicist Julian Barbour states: “Time is encoded in static configurations, which we see or experience subjectively, all of them fitting together to make time seem linear”[2]. Time then, is just an illusion. Concepts of past or future hold no relevance. However, that does not mean we are stuck in a limbo of change. Seen in both progressives and conservatists, in human emotions such as nostalgia and fear; change is the only constant. In our core (x), there is always ‘change’, which is in the end all that we humans can rely on.


[1] Murphy, A. (2009). “Longing, Nostalgia, and Golden Age Politics: The American Jeremiad and the Power of the Past”, Perspectives on Politics, 7(1): 125-141.

[2] Retrieved from: https://www.space.com/29859-the-illusion-of-time.html

The global citizen

As the world becomes more and more interconnected, various nationalities come into contact with one another and new identities are born. The question: where are you from, becomes increasingly difficult to answer. What if you are one quarter Chinese, one quarter Irish, half Italian and you grew up in Australia? To answer a seemingly simple question suddenly requires you to tell your entire life story. While my heritage is not difficult at all, I am fully Dutch, the fact that I grew up in Germany has caused some awkward pauses after the question: “where are you from?”. And honestly, it has led to some identity crises as well. While I am Dutch, I only moved to the Netherlands when I was eighteen and there are many nuances of the Dutch culture that I don’t understand. Home is a complicated word that has no clear meaning for me and I know I am not the only one. So, what does that mean for our world and our identities?

            First, we have to talk about citizenship itself. It was only once I started studying that I realized how political this concept is. Apart from migrants wanting citizenship, not all citizenships are equal. There are certain passports that are more ‘powerful’ than others. This means that with some passports, such as the German one, you are able to travel to a long list of countries visa free or with a visa-upon-arrival. However, with a passport from Afghanistan you are merely allowed to travel to 26 countries visa free or with a visa-upon-arrival. Moreover, there is the continuing debate of dual citizenship. Something many politicians want to ban. This results in more questions regarding one’s identity. If you don’t even know where you are when you have dual citizenship, how are you supposed to choose one identity. Moreover, you can feel a sense of belonging  in a country that is not part of your nationality. Perhaps, the entire notion of passports does not fit into a world where borders seem to diminish more every year.

            A concept better fit for our modern world, is derived from, ironically enough, Stoic philosophy. ‘World citizenship’ states that one’s identity transcend beyond borders. Kant has extended this concept as he adds political, economic and cultural dimensions to it. Holding a ‘world citizenship’ might then just answer all my crises, right? Not quite. I think that the concept is a little hollow. While it might seem that I can just name the ‘world’ as my home, that also means that my home is everywhere. However, if it is everywhere, it is simultaneously nowhere. There would be no place to go ‘back’ to and if I would say that I feel at home everywhere in the world, I would simply be lying. Thus, ‘world citizenship’ also is unable to provide a satisfying answer to the question: where are you from? It does not give me an identity, rather, it is a lovely sentiment that we all live on the same planet, but that is where the value of the concept ends.

            So, national citizenship does not fit in our world and neither does ‘world citizenship’. Perhaps, the only answers to the question of an international identity, is one that is not very satisfying. We do not belong anywhere, through travelling, through mixed nationalities, trough moving, our world has become interconnected and globalized. This means that the identity of an international rests on the fact they never truly belonging anywhere in the world. Perhaps, that is what it means to be a global or world citizen. Rather than pretending every place in the world is our home, we should take comfort in not belonging anywhere. This might even lead to the discussion whether citizenships or nationalities provide any elements of identification that are valuable. Maybe, there are many more characteristics that allow us to assess our own identity. And perhaps, these are identities that truly transcend borders and ones we can all share.

Why are we so America-obsessed?

How are your eyes doing? Mine still need to recover from checking my phone every minute of the day, following the US election. A result of the election has arrived and as I can finally be freed from CNN’s Key Race Alerts by closing my laptop, I wonder why I care so much about this election. Why do we care so much more about what happens overseas, while we don’t follow any political action happening in the European Union? How is it possible that turnout for the elections of the European parliament is incredibly low, while the US elections have been trending on Twitter for the past 96 hours? Why is no one sharing treaties or election results coming from the European Union, while I have seen the faces of Biden and Harris about a hundred times today? Why am I, why are we, so incredibly America-obsessed?

            Firstly, I think it’s of importance to realise that the US holds a hegemonic position in the world. While the power of the nation is in decline, I don’t believe that its hegemonic position has vanished entirely yet. This means that their politics are relevant to us in Europe. We are dependent on the decisions they make, regarding their foreign policy, as well as their decisions on issues such as climate change. The US still holds a tremendous amount of influence over the world. However, I think that their cultural influence is also enormous. The literature we read, the films we see and in general the arts we enjoy often come from the US. Consequently, the US norms are imposed on us as well, which makes us a lot more involved with the nation itself. Let me give you an example. I have watched a lot of romantic films. It was only when talking to a friend’s parents recently, that I realised that in my country, the Netherlands, it is not the norm to propose with a ring. The image of getting on one knee with an enormous diamond ring is an image that Hollywood has ingrained in my brain, even though it’s by no means a part of my culture.

            The US thus holds influence over us Europeans, which justifies our interest in the nation. However, that does not explain our obsession with The States. The political landscape of the US and its two-party system offers an environment that is easy to document. Only one of two candidates can win and the report on the election can be similar to reporting a boxing match. It is entertaining and exciting to watch two candidates scream at each other. It is graspable to think of ‘winner’ and ‘loser’ instead of a coalition that has to be formed. On top of that, the politicians in the US try to sell themselves, which is intriguing, because often their stories are extremely compelling. Accordingly, news shows in the US are almost entertainment shows selling us stories, while constantly reporting polls and data that the viewer can watch and follow closely. Politics in the US, are easy to follow.

            Meanwhile ‘at home’, the European Parliament does not even speak the same language and debates are difficult to follow through a translator with a monotone voice. Moreover, the European Union consists of so many different committees and commissions, that it’s hard to keep track of what is happening. There is just too much bureaucracy. There is nothing exciting, glamorous or sexy about politics in Brussels. And on top of its dull politics, we simply lack European ‘patriotism’, as we are first and foremost part of our own countries; a ‘European culture’ hardly exists.

            Lastly, our interest in America derives from our historical view of America. Tocqueville, when returning to Europe, believed that the democracy and equality in the US offered a great example for countries in Europe. While the US has now slid back into a ‘flawed democracy’, the sentiment of taking US as an example also persisted after Tocqueville’s time. In the cold war for instance, The States represented a land of freedom and opportunities. The concept of the ‘American Dream’ might have existed mainly in the US itself, it also left traces in Europe. This is not to say that these views of America were justified or matched reality, but the nation portrayed (or perhaps portrays) an enticing image of freedom, and that image might still be stuck in our heads.

            All in all, it‘s perhaps just a part of our culture to, albeit subconsciously, perceive the US as an example. That the media portray politics in the US as entertainment that is easy to consume, like any television show we can binge-watch, certainly does not help to break away from our (outdated) views on the US. I think it would do us all, and especially me, some good to take a step back from American politics. Instead, we should shift our focus on politics that might actually be more relevant for us. Maybe in a few years I will be traumatised by Key Race Alerts coming from the elections for the European Parliament (one can hope, anyway.)

Being conservative at the faculty of humanities

I remember in high school asking several teachers what political parties they were going to vote for and they all said that they could not answer. It was unprofessional for a teacher to express any sort of political preference. I need to add that I went to a high school in Germany where the culture surrounding politics might be different than in the Netherlands. Nonetheless, I thought it was quite peculiar at the time, but now that I am in an environment where there is no escaping politics, I understand these strict policies.

After my first day at university the difference between my old teachers and the teachers here left me speechless. Through the entirety of the first seminar jokes about Trump, Brexit and Republicans were made. The excitement of the first day soon left my body and a sense of bewilderment rushed over me: aren’t professors or teachers in general supposed to be neutral? After the seminar I asked two family members about it: one has studied at university, one has not. The one that hasn’t studied said, while smiling: “Well, that’s university, you have to think for yourself,” but then the other relative looked at me in surprise saying: “That is very peculiar, professors aren’t ought to give their opinion about politics in case it influences the students too much.” I left my hometown torn about the two statements, but decided to go into the following seminars with an open mind and started to notice another thing: it is incredibly difficult to be conservative at the Faculty of Humanities.

There is something really hypocritical about a lot of left-wing voters right now. They portray themselves as the most tolerant, yet when talking about anyone that has a different, more conservative opinion, these same open-minded voters just laugh away the critics’ ‘stupidity’. The more I started to pay attention to this, the more I noticed occasions where people laughed at Trump, Brexit or the FVD (a Dutch right wing party), but they never had any clear arguments as to why they were laughing. During seminars I often thought that no conservative would dare to speak out, as their opinion would be laughed at anyway. It seems as if anyone who is not leftist is seen as an egotistical racist that has no sense of humanity. That is not the case. To care about the economy does not automatically make you a hungry-for-money capitalist. VVD-voters (again a quite right-wing party in Netherlands), are not all oblivious to climate change, their priorities just lie somewhere else, and that does not make them ‘dumb’ or a ‘bad person’.

As I was writing this article and talked to more people about it I constantly found myself saying: “Well, I am writing this article about being conservative in a leftist environment… but I am not conservative!”. This only further proved the point I am trying to make. I felt the need to justify myself as if being conservative was something bad and I was afraid of being categorized like that. When I was talking to my roommate about this she asked me: “But what are you trying to accomplish with this, you know that the Faculty of Humanities is filled with people that are left-minded.” There is some truth to this statement. However, I also firmly believe there are more conservatives at our faculty than one might think, but in every conversation about politics, in my experience at least, there is no space to utter your opinion if you are not voting left.

The problem is not that the Faculty of Humanities is filled with leftist people, or that seminars are filled with political topics on which the professor takes a stance, but it becomes a problem when conversation disappears. If every conservative opinion is called ‘dumb’ or ‘uneducated’, there is no discussion; just a bunch of people agreeing with each other and that is not the point of a university at all, nor does it create any interesting conversations. We need to engage in dialogue with each other. To have a different opinion just means that you have a different opinion. It is a lot more productive to try to understand others’ opinion than to blatantly ignore it and laugh it away.

As for teachers, I am still not sure whether they should be politically neutral or not, but if they do decide to share their opinion, there should be less laughter and more listening to create a space for an open discussion