Europe. To those outside, perhaps the word is synonymous with the cradle of Western civilization, learning, and culture. Perhaps to those in North America, it also conjures up images of Parisian avenues adorned with exquisite works of art; Roman ruins scattered throughout Italian cities; and quaint English villages and customs hundreds of years old.
Perhaps throughout much of Europe, the word carries the sense of a broader whole, a sense of meta identity beyond a national culture.
But in Britain, the word is heavily tainted. It positively hums with an ever-present political charge. Literally mention the word “Europe” and it conjures up no image of civilization, no charming Parisian suburb, and no sense of uber-identity. Instead it carries with it the convulsions of decades of internal political history, and the concepts and struggles of the European Union, European Parliament, and so on. Here, the word “Europe” has to many become indelibly stained with politics.
The question of Europe haunts many a U.K. politician with intractable difficulties, and is the fire that burns under many a columnist’s rant.
We Brits talk of our ‘relationship with Europe,’ as though Europe were something outside of us. Britain is an island nation. It sits next to mainland Europe, not within it. And it is this simple geography that reflects exactly the British attitude toward Europe and our arms-length relationship to it.
It is not until I travel outside of Europe that I become aware of the European characteristics that I share with my continental neighbors. But at the same time there is a deep reluctance to give much store to my European identity. It is the notion of Britishness that swells me with pride when I chat with American friends, not a sense continental Europeanness.
It has been the country’s paradoxical relationship with Europe that has been brought to light as the sovereign debt crisis has come to the fore once again with the Irish bailout.
As he justified the 7 billion pound (US$11 billion) bailout loan to Ireland, the chancellor (the post in charge of Britain’s purse strings) George Osbourne said, “'I told you so doesn’t make an economic policy,” referring to his party’s objections to the euro when the currency was first created.
The chancellor has argued, like many, that although Britain has distained from entering the eurozone, British national interest is also tied up in the economic stability of Europe as a whole, and with it Ireland. We might not share the same currency, but we share the same market.
I might moan about the ever-encroaching centralized politics of Europe from time to time, and I may shun the uber-identity of Europe in favor of my Britishness, but the truth is I cannot escape my Europeanness.
For just as I take pride in being British when I am among my North American or Australian friends, I am painfully aware also that my contrasting shyness, introversion, and love of understatement and overcomplication are shared with my fellow Europeans. I might share a common language with Americans, but my mindset is European.
I suspect that the decades of political wrangling over Europe has in many ways only detracted from the sense of European identity and pride. Perhaps it is time to reclaim our true European identity a little from the murky political notions that now overlay it and suffocate it.
Perhaps when we Brits walk the streets of Paris, Rome, and Prague, we might consider allowing our wonderment to give way to a little European pride.
Perhaps throughout much of Europe, the word carries the sense of a broader whole, a sense of meta identity beyond a national culture.
But in Britain, the word is heavily tainted. It positively hums with an ever-present political charge. Literally mention the word “Europe” and it conjures up no image of civilization, no charming Parisian suburb, and no sense of uber-identity. Instead it carries with it the convulsions of decades of internal political history, and the concepts and struggles of the European Union, European Parliament, and so on. Here, the word “Europe” has to many become indelibly stained with politics.
The question of Europe haunts many a U.K. politician with intractable difficulties, and is the fire that burns under many a columnist’s rant.
We Brits talk of our ‘relationship with Europe,’ as though Europe were something outside of us. Britain is an island nation. It sits next to mainland Europe, not within it. And it is this simple geography that reflects exactly the British attitude toward Europe and our arms-length relationship to it.
It is not until I travel outside of Europe that I become aware of the European characteristics that I share with my continental neighbors. But at the same time there is a deep reluctance to give much store to my European identity. It is the notion of Britishness that swells me with pride when I chat with American friends, not a sense continental Europeanness.
It has been the country’s paradoxical relationship with Europe that has been brought to light as the sovereign debt crisis has come to the fore once again with the Irish bailout.
As he justified the 7 billion pound (US$11 billion) bailout loan to Ireland, the chancellor (the post in charge of Britain’s purse strings) George Osbourne said, “'I told you so doesn’t make an economic policy,” referring to his party’s objections to the euro when the currency was first created.
The chancellor has argued, like many, that although Britain has distained from entering the eurozone, British national interest is also tied up in the economic stability of Europe as a whole, and with it Ireland. We might not share the same currency, but we share the same market.
I might moan about the ever-encroaching centralized politics of Europe from time to time, and I may shun the uber-identity of Europe in favor of my Britishness, but the truth is I cannot escape my Europeanness.
For just as I take pride in being British when I am among my North American or Australian friends, I am painfully aware also that my contrasting shyness, introversion, and love of understatement and overcomplication are shared with my fellow Europeans. I might share a common language with Americans, but my mindset is European.
I suspect that the decades of political wrangling over Europe has in many ways only detracted from the sense of European identity and pride. Perhaps it is time to reclaim our true European identity a little from the murky political notions that now overlay it and suffocate it.
Perhaps when we Brits walk the streets of Paris, Rome, and Prague, we might consider allowing our wonderment to give way to a little European pride.
