Belongings vs. Belonging
Jeremy Rifkin wrote a fascinating column in the Sunday Outlook section of the Washington Post (Click). It talked about the differences between the rugged, materialistic individualism of the American Dream (where wealth = abundant belongings) and the transnational, socialistic interconnectedness of the European Dream (where wealth = abundant belonging). It also talked about which dream seems more suited to the march of modernity. This was a fascinating backdrop against which to view today's election. Time will tell as to how this plays in the USA.
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I realize that this entry is about three weeks old, but it certainly struck a chord with me as I am just about to conclude a four-and-a-half month period of studying abroad in the U.K. What Rifkin describes in his commentary is exactly what has struck me about the U.K. and Europe in general: there exists a real sense of community, not just among the members of the EU, but as members of the greater global community. I had very little knowledge about the U.K. before I arrived here in August, but I've quickly learned a great deal by reading British newspapers and talking to British people. What's really fascinating about the British papers is that although they're ostensibly focused on Britain, they nonetheless cover major events in countries around the world, perhaps owing to the sense that what happens in France, or Germany, or Norway, or even China, will have an effect on the global community, which will, in turn, have an effect on Britain as a member of that community. I've lived in the Washington D.C./Baltimore area all my life, and outside of the "International" section of our major papers, I feel I encountered very little news of what was happening in other countries, almost as if we think the U.S. is somehow insulated from the world community by virtue of having an ocean on either side of us. Nevertheless, what I feel are some of the greatest threats to Americans living in the United States--the destruction of the environment and infectious disease--cannot necessarily be stopped by our ocean borders.
It is interesting that Rifkin writes that Americans have traditionally believed, "The wealthier you are, the more independent you are, and the more secure you are," because this makes me think of a desire that many middle-class Americans I've come into contact with have expressed: the desire for a bigger house, or more land. When I first came to Britain, I was struck by how small everything is: the cars, the portions of food, the small lots on which the houses in town are built. I've often thought, myself, how much I would love a few acres of land (both for "privacy" and to hopefully be able to enjoy the natural beauty). But it occurs to me that the larger the lot on which your house sits, the greater the distance between you and your neighbour. If your door is fifty feet from your neighbour's, how much more often will you share a cup of tea, coffee, or a meal than if your door is five miles from that of your neighbour? And why not share the natural beauty of the land with the entire community, rather than want to possess it for ourselves? I went to Paris for the first time in my life just this past weekend, and I was amazed by the beauty and number of public "jardins" as I looked down on the city from the Eiffel Tower. I was also struck by the camaraderie of the shop-owners and the customers as I ate breakfast in small bakeries in such a big city--it was the type of friendliness and "knowing your customers" that I typically associate with small, Midwestern American towns, not large European cities.
Other differences abound. The two young men who live on either side of me each joined a "sport" when they arrived at University--one badminton and the other juggling. Neither has any particular interest in the activity, and neither has any skill whatsoever. But the point in these sporting clubs is less the activity itself--something which I as an American would be likely to focus on, I think--but rather the opportunity to interact and to be part of a community. The "corridor" on which I live has become my family--a family of eight--in the few short weeks that I've been here. We share a hallway, two bathrooms, two showers, and a kitchen, where we cook our own meals rather than go to a cafeteria-style dining hall. We recently had a small outbreak of mumps on the campus (when I told my mom, a registered nurse, she said, interestingly, "I don't really know too much about mumps because we eliminated it a long time ago") and I was surprised to receive an e-mail from a university official thanking all the students who are caring for anyone who has come down with mumps on their corridor. It almost went without saying that students would be doing this, despite having known each other for less than two months.
Perhaps the most striking difference for me is in the way Europeans eat and drink. I was aghast when I first arrived at my British university to discover that there are eight…EIGHT bars on campus. My American sensibilities immediately reacted to this: "Oh no! How terrible that the University is making money from student drinking!" But in actuality, I've come to see that the "drinking" culture is much different than our own. Many of the bars, both on- and off-campus, do not have barstools on which to sit and stare at the taps and bottles of alcohol. Instead, they have tables, benches, and room to stand and talk. When I visited Munich, Germany, I was amazed at the great "beer halls" that had huge, long tables where you would sit with people you didn't even know and eat and drink. In Italy, meals lasted for hours (I was surprised by the idea of having two courses--it seemed "fattening" to me, but the courses were small, and by the nature of the food being spread out over multiple courses and therefore a longer time, it turned out that I could eat less, feel nourished, and talk more.) And although I hate to bring up a very misunderstood British custom that has become a stereotype in the U.S., "teatime" is much less a quick caffeine-infused-pick-me-up than an opportunity to take a break from the day's work, whatever that may be, and talk to fellow human beings. At my university, I've seen distinguished academics and construction workers having tea alike. But to return for a moment to the pubs, they serve not as a place for "alcoholics" and "losers," (as I've heard bars in the U.S. described) but rather as a central meeting place for members of the community to bond and to discuss, most frequently, the politics that affect them and the global community at large. Perhaps the most telling fact I've discovered about alcohol use here is that, despite the drinking age being 18, no one whom I've asked knows what "alcohol poisoning" is, a problem which continues to claim the lives of young college students in the U.S.
I miss some of the comforts of home, but for each convenience or comfort, there is a price to be paid. Sometimes I wish I could just hop in my car and drive to my destination instead of taking the train, which is inevitably slower and often delayed, but there is a cost to the environment when I use my car rather than public transportation, and my car insulates me from my fellow motorists on the Baltimore or Washington beltways, who sometimes tend to become my enemies rather than the travelling companions I've found sharing a table on a train. I had an hour-long conversation with a Swiss banker in rather broken French in a train compartment full of schoolchildren in Switzerland, and although I understood little of what we actually talked about, I distinctly remember the smiles and the connection we shared.
I miss being able to get great, inexpensive restaurant or take-out and then sitting at home and watching a movie on a decent home theatre system. But until I came to the U.K., I didn't know the enjoyment and satisfaction that can come from cooking oneself and others a nice meal, from turning basic ingredients into something delicious. I would also be missing out on the constant conversation and companionship of my corridor-mates, with whom I share the kitchen and its extremely compact fridge, freezer, and stove. (Ironically, I had a small refrigerator to myself in my dorm room at my university in the U.S. The refrigerator that we share amongst eight people here is only slightly larger. In the U.S., I only kept snacks and drinks in my fridge, as I had a meal plan and ate at the dining hall on campus. Considering that the food I was eating was being stored in the dining services refrigerators and freezers, I guess I was probably using more energy for myself than all eight of us living on my corridor. It puts things in perspective.)
So, needless to say, I have learned and experienced some of what Rifkin describes. One thing I know for sure is that I will continue to get my news from the BBC when I return to the U.S., and I will pay more attention to international issues and to my being part of the communities of which I am a part.
By Tom, at 8:37 AM
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