As I write this from Dublin, waiting to board my connecting flightâIâd nearly missed it in Newark, too absorbed in writing to hear the gate callâIâm struck by how a Euro sign or EU flag can alter oneâs sense of place. Technically, Iâm still in the British Isles. But culturallyâunmistakablyâIâm on the Continent. A sensation I never quite feel in England.
Itâs a strange feeling, this flicker of European belonging. In the early millennium, I was a passionate Brexiteerâyoung, angry, seeking change. By the time of the referendum, a decade later, I found myself morally conflicted. I knew the EU was not a good fit but as a BahĂĄâĂ, I knew I could never advocate for disunity, of any sort. I abstained. Ironically, Commonwealth citizens could vote, but EU nationals couldnâtâa bit of imperial gatekeeping that deeply irritated my liberal British-Irish friend. (âWhy can Indians vote, but not the French?â he asked.)
Today, standing in Europe, I feel the contrast sharply. The Continent is genteel, even decadent, locked into postwar consensus. Meanwhile, the English-speaking world feels like itâs on fireâpolitically, culturally, psychologically. Itâs not just the UK or the US. India, too, belongs to this hot zone of rhetoric and reinvention. Pakistan, by contrast, while elite-driven in English, remains emotionally and socially an Urdu republic. Continue reading The Elder Race and the English-Speaking Heat