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Showing posts with label expatriates. Show all posts
Showing posts with label expatriates. Show all posts

Thursday, July 20, 2017

An Insignificant Short Timer

Himeji Castle
"You feel small, whether as a courtier or an artist or a historian, because you recognize your insignificance in an infinite universe.  You know you can never yourself rule a kingdom, or capture on canvas everything you see on a distant horizon, or recapture in your books and lectures everything that happened in the past.  The best you can do, whether with a prince or or a landscape or the past, is to represent reality:  to smooth over the details, to look for larger patterns, to consider how you can use what you see for your own purposes."

The Landscape of History: How Historians Map the Past
by John Lewis Gaddis


Over the past three years I have had a most excellent opportunity: my host versus home country paradigm became a triangle - US, France and Japan - and then a quadrangle with the addition of Belgium as a fourth point of reference  For someone who as a callow youth could hardly imagine a life outside the Pacific Northwest of the US, I can only look back as I pass the half-century mark and marvel at how I ended up here or there and how completely unprepared I was for each trip.  I was a green water vessel shoved out into blue water hoping to dock at a friendly port on the other side of a vast ocean.  So far, no shipwrecks.  Which, I assure you, was not at all due to my skills as a navigator.

A very small vessel, indeed.  Insignificant, in fact, in the larger scheme of things.  Every day millions of people set off on their own journeys to distant shores.  It has been both a pleasure and a relief to turn my attention to them and not spend my days pondering my own small part in the late 20th/early 21st century migration flows in this globalized world of ours.  Looking for the larger patterns allows one to return to the Self with a sense of connection, relieved of the burden of thinking that one is special or unique.

I have been an emigrant and an immigrant. I have also been an expatriate.  Twice, in fact.  Both times in Japan.  My first time here was spent in Tokyo where I worked for a French multinational.  This, my second time around, has been dramatically different.  I am what is referred to as a "trailing spouse" and a couple of years ago that term and the circumstances around our move to Osaka did not sit well with me. And I did not hesitate to say so (and other people did not hesitate to tell me that I was being something of  a pill and a killjoy which was hardly helpful.)  

There is some truth to that but looking back I have compassion for the woman I was.  At the time I was still recovering from treatment for cancer and I was considering how to get back into the French workforce.  I was nervous about being so far from my oncologist and I wondered what a few more years not working would do to my future job prospects.  All very legitimate concerns.  And I really have to wonder why they were not taken more seriously.  I suspect that they would have been if I had been a man.  Surely one of my spouse's co-workers would not have touted getting his nails done on a regular basis as one of the benefits of the expat life.

Once I got over "living in the wreckage of the future" I finally got the gumption to make something of my time here and there.  The most visible accomplishment of my time here was my research which led to me getting my MA in International Migration.  But there have been other less tangible benefits which I only became aware of when I realized that our time here was getting short.  

Top of the list would have to be enjoying Japan.  The first time I was here (in Tokyo) I was working long hours and traveling to Korea and China.  There was no time for much else because I had a project to run and deadlines to meet.  This time  around I have had all the time in the world to travel around Japan. I have been back to Tokyo but I also visited Okinawa, Miyajima, Hiroshima, Kyoto, Nara and numerous other places in the Kansai region.  I have hiked in the mountains, slept in a temple guesthouse, visited markets, wandered through many fine museums and fought my way through the crowds to see the magnificent floats at festivals.  And, of course, there are the gardens which make my heart sing.  At every one I took mental notes for my own little bit of earth back in Versailles.

Koko-en Garden

Tourism?  Absolutely.  And the very best kind to boot because there was no rush, no plane to catch in a week.  Unable to see everything in one trip?  No matter because there was always time to return.  I've been to Nara at least four times and each visit was a revelation though there was some continuity because I always stay at the Nara Hotel which is, hands down, the finest hotel I've ever stayed in.

Nara Hotel, Kyoto
But that's not all.  I realized at some point that I could relax and just enjoy the ride.  There was the complete absence of the kind of stress that I felt in France as an immigrant.  I have heard many Anglophone migrants here talk about their integration issues large and small and I completely understood where they were coming from (albeit in a different country).  But here I really am just a guest, a temporary visitor with no plans to stay and so I feel no pressure to integrate.  Only a subtle sense that I should do certain things a certain way (such as properly sorting the garbage) which is no hardship at all.  

No one ever asks if I work (or insinuates that I should be working), there are no tense interviews with the public administration, no struggles to fit in because I don't need to fit in here except in the most superficial way.  With only a few very rare exceptions people are civil and pleasant.  And if they are bothered by my inability to communicate in Japanese, the only sign that they care one whit is the real pleasure and surprise on their faces when the younger Frenchling steps up and starts translating.  

Integration where I actually live is something else.  It is indispensable because I have to meet certain expectations in order to get a job, have friends, be on good terms with my neighbors, go to mass and confession, enjoy a dinner party, read contracts, deal with civil servants and so many other things big and small. This is the pebble in my shoe and I am subtly reminded of it every hour of every day in France. 

Granted it's a very very small pebble these days because, well, time has ground it down to next to nothing.  And I would never have noticed, I think, that it was still there if I hadn't remarked on its complete absence here in Japan.   So it has been something of a relief to be in a place where expectations are low, low, low given my status as a short-timer.   Never has my own insignificance felt so good.

Just a few more months and this vessel will sail once again (Air France will do the navigating): one small unimportant craft in a sea of over 200 million migrants in the world today.  Looking forward to being back full-time in my first country, the country of my heart (that darn pebble be damned).   Japan has served its purpose and home is just over the horizon.  Vive la France!

My Garden in Versailles

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Another Look at "Expatriate"

I've written posts before on the Immigrant versus Migrant versus Expatriate debate (here and here). It's not a secret that I think these terms are used in some pretty nefarious, not to mention ignorant, ways.

Over the weekend I was part of a debate over these terms.  Nothing like an alcohol-fueled discussion in the shade of Osaka castle under the cherry blossoms.  Tell me how you really feel.  And they did.

In one corner was an individual living here in Japan (not an American) who agreed that the use of the word "expatriate" was racist.  I'm white, he/she said, and that means that I'm an "expat."  Not his/her fault, that's just the way it is, he/she said.

In another corner was an individual from Singapore who strongly disagreed.  He/she (also a Caucasian anglophone) said that race had nothing to do with it.  In Singapore, people from Asia, Africa and other places are  considered to be "expats."  It's not race that makes the difference between a migrant and an expatriate.  It's money, status, profession, skills.

My contribution to this was something I've been hearing a lot in Japan.  "Expat" is a derogatory term for someone who doesn't learn the local language and lives in a expatriate ghetto complete with segregated international schools for the kids. These are people who are not integrated and they may be richer but they are lower than those who live in the "real" Japan.

Well, well, well.  The intersections here between race, class and status are fascinating.   In France I would add history to the mix:  "expatriate" brings up a vision of the great creatives like Hemingway who lived in Paris in the 20th century. The more I look at it, I see how the context in which the word "expatriate" is used is everything. It's not a neutral term.  In one context it can be used against you. In another it's an expression of a certain status. In yet another it's just a word everyone uses without batting an eye and they are genuinely confused if you point out the connotations in other contexts..

Furthermore, I think that time changes things.  The world moves on.   Read Pauline Leonard for a look at how things have changed for the "expats" in Hong Kong.  As Asian countries became rich, as their citizens began to travel widely and work as professionals in North America and Europe, the relative position of the Western "expats" in societies changed.  The days of Charisma Man in Japan are not entirely over, but it's not what it was in the giddy days of the Japanese economic boom when Western foreigners were really exotic.  I have friends here who have a lot of  nostalgia for that era.   Those were good times.

So I'm learning to stop and think and listen to the locals before I use the word "expatriate."   Engage brain before opening mouth.  Come to think of it, that's not a bad idea anywhere, anytime, any place.

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Defining Terms: Migrants, Expatriates and Travelers

Contempt before investigation is a most perilous mindset and I was skirting the edges of it as I reluctantly picked up  Self-Initiated Expatriation: Individual, Organizational, and National Perspectives  by Maike Andresen, Akram Al Ariss , Matthias Walther (Editors).

Self-initiated expatriation?   The meaning was (I thought) clear but why invent a term when others already exist?  I feared that it was just another bit of academic nitpicking designed to glorify the "adventurers" of the First World to the detriment of other migrants.

To my surprise, the book is quite good and I'm glad I gave it a chance to surpass my low expectations.  I will discuss the difference between Self-Initiated and Assigned Expatriates in another post (in the book there is a good, if limited, study of both in Japan).

Today I'd like to talk about the very first chapter where the three editors  take a stab at defining terms.  What is the difference between migrants and expatriates?   And what distinguishes both from long or short-term travelers?

These are not easy questions to answer.  Sometimes migrant and expatriate are used in the same way citizenship and nationality are used:  as interchangeable and having more or less the same meaning.  Often they are used (especially when people label themselves) to make a distinction between someone from the developed world versus a "real" migrant or immigrant from the developing world.  This distancing reveals not just global hierarchies, but also says a great deal about the self-perceptions of  Europeans or North Americans.  (See this Flophouse post on Immigrants vs. Expatriates.)

 Even academics and researchers use these terms in different ways.  The editors looked at English-language journal articles and found 74 definitions for expatriate and 84 for migrant.  They concluded, "there is no consistency in the literature regarding how each of the three individual terms [migrant, expatriate, and self-initiated expatriate] is defined."  They then took it upon themselves to clear up the chaos.

Their model is a good one, I think, and worth using.  It is perfect but it is, I contend, more objective and deftly avoids the trap of trying to define migrants/expatriates by their countries of origin, socioeconomic class, and intentions.  They are defined instead by what they do when they hit that distant shore.

The first step in cleaning up these categories divides the "people who move around" into two groups based on the answer to this question:  Is there a geographic relocation across national borders and a change in the dominant place of residence?  If the answer is No then the person is not a migrant, but a traveler.  If the answer is Yes then the person is put in a big bucket called Migrant.

Under the category Migrant are subcategories and of them is Expatriate (others might be Entrepreneurs, Retirees, Education, Marriage or Family Reunification Migrants.)  But what is the one thing, say Andresen et al, that always puts someone in the Expat group?  An employment contract.

"Individuals," they argue, "who move to a foreign country without taking up employment cannot be categorized as expatriates."  This can be a contract with a home country organization or company, or one with a host country organization or company.

And that is the difference between the Assigned Expatriates (AEs) and the Self-Initiated Expatriates (SIEs):  the former is sent by a company in the home country (or country of residence) and the latter deals directly with an organization or company in the target country, signs a contract with them and relocates on his own dime.

I like it.  Under this model an engineer, professor, aid worker, programmer, teacher, hairdresser or agricultural worker with a work contract who hails from North or South America, Europe, Africa or Asia are all Expatriates.

"But, but, but..." (I can hear some of you sputtering.)

OK, I agree that this model is not perfect, so let's discuss.   Tell me what your objections are and, if you like, propose your own model.

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Telling Our Stories in Our Own Words

Mawuna Koutonin's article in The Guardian was the perfect catalyst for me to re-examine my own feelings about those words and my own life trajectory.  When I was a college student I had no intention of leaving Seattle.  I assumed I would travel because that's something my family does.  But I never anticipated packing up and moving to another country.  Not in my wildest childhood dreams did I think that the words migrant or expatriate would ever apply to me.  How did it happen?  It was just one damn thing after another that led to one move and then another, and now here I am in Osaka, Japan.  

Koutonin's words touched a nerve in me and thousands of other people.  The words we use to describe ourselves are a signal to the world about how we interpret our experience and what kind of person we think we are.  When someone uses a word we don't like to describe us, we get really bent out of shape.  We have this horror of being misunderstood or misinterpreted - of having someone pin a label on us and make assumptions about our motives and who we are.  

Putting aside the arguments over the precise meanings of expatriate, migrant and immigrant/emigrant, another way to approach it is for each of us to explain what we are trying to say when we apply these words to ourselves.  This is not about right or wrong - this is Allow Me to Show You What I Mean by Telling a Story.  So let me tell you the story of how I've used those words (which I realize has never been consistent).  And then I'd like to hear yours.

When I first left my home country, I was very young and scared.  I had just finished university in my hometown and the only trips out of the US I had ever made were to British Columbia, Canada.  The ideas that I had about France and the French were informed by the language classes I took, the one or two French citizens I'd met, and the many books I read.  The word I might have used at the time was adventurer - here I was going off to this exciting, exotic place to live with high (and as it turned out) unrealistic expectations.  I would not have used the word expatriate to describe myself.  

Expatriate, in my mind, meant famous people like Hemingway, and this young woman from Seattle could not even pretend to be in that class of individual.  I was simply off to have a fine adventure and I didn't want to think too much about what that meant at the time and would mean to me over years.  

Migrant or immigrant would not have worked either because that implied to me an intention to stay in that country and make it my home. Even after I landed in Paris, I simply was not ready to make a long-term commitment.to a place I knew so little about. I was young and in love, the family was more than welcoming and I thought the country was beautiful.  Good enough.


The differences between my vision of France and the reality became apparent quite quickly and the awareness of just how hard it was going to be to make a life there was almost overwhelming. I would describe my feelings at the time as alternating between anxious and angry.  Finding a job was difficult since my French was poor and my credentials frequently misinterpreted.  Obtaining my residency card meant going to a clinic that resembled a factory processing cattle for a medical exam - the sheer humiliation of being part of a human assembly line waiting to be x-rayed and being asked intrusive personal questions by the immigration officials.  I may not have called myself an immigrant but I was treated as one and that was that.

And then there was the sense that my entire world had turned upside down and I could no longer do anything right. Life seemed to be an endless series of encounters where I was corrected or admonished for using the wrong words, not doing the proper thing or simply not understanding fast enough for the people around me. In this sea of uncertainty I clung to what I was, an American abroad, with all the desperation of the survivor of a shipwreck clinging to a lifeboat.  

Things got better.  I learned to revel in being different and I finally started expressing some of my repressed anger.  If the French weren't going to allow me to integrate (and that was the impression I had) and I had no chance of becoming one of them, then I was going to give them exactly what they seemed to want.  The word I used at the time with a sort of perverse pleasure was Exotic Beast and even guest:  this was a statement of superiority and an in-your-face expression of difference. 

That didn't last because who wants to live forever separate from the people around her?  It takes a lot of energy to keep saying to everyone, "I'm not like you."  Feelings aren't facts and I admitted to myself that maybe I misinterpreted the native citizen's motives. The resentment washed away and in its place was a strong attachment to the country and its people. I started thinking about becoming a citizen and eventually made my way down to the prefecture to ask about it.  It was at that time that I began to call myself an immigrant or migrant.  This was me saying that I was ready to make the commitment I avoided so many years ago.  

It was also an expression of solidarity - an admission that I am no different from all the other people from Algeria or China or Canada that I meet in the prefecture   I am not special, my experience is not unique.  Talking with them as we wait for the wheels of the French bureaucracy to spin,  I've learned that we have a lot in common. 

Yes, that was a revelation to me and who the hell did I think I was to assume otherwise?  And it is this experience that made Mawuna Koutonin's article so meaningful to me.   Yes, I've done that - the distancing dance.  And I directed it both toward my fellow migrants in France and against the native French as well.   It came from a place of anger and insecurity.  It was driven entirely by fear.

Today I'm living in Osaka, Japan.  This was something of a surprise but here we are.  My spouse is an inter-company transfer and we will be going home (that means France) at some point.  This is temporary and that changes everything for me.  I don't feel angry or anxious.  I'm not worried about integrating.  I will learn as much of the language as I can but it's not a matter of survival because I can't work here.  

My expectations are low and I'm learning to just accept what the universe offers me every day.  The word I use to describe myself now is expatriate which to me means temporary resident for a limited purpose and on someone else's dime.  And I feel a sense of deep relief when I use that word because it means I can relax.  I have nothing to prove here and I can kick back and enjoy the ride.

Reading over what I have written, I can see that the way I use the words guest, expatriate and immigrant is always dependent on my personal context and whatever meaning I was trying to convey at the time.  I went from thinking of an expatriate as an Ernest Hemingway when I was a 24 year old college graduate, to using it to describe myself at 50. I won't even try to convince you that it makes any sense at all.

It's just my story and I'm sticking to it.

Monday, March 16, 2015

Immigrants versus Expatriates

“The gentle reader will never, never know what a consummate ass he can become until he goes abroad."

Mark Twain
The Innocents Abroad


One of the most asinine acts of those who go abroad from developed countries is this attempt to dodge terms. People who come from less exalted nations are immigrants; we are expatriates.

A recent article in The Guardian by an African journalist made that point in no uncertain terms, and it was about time, too. There is nothing neutral here; "immigrant" and "expatriate" are loaded with meaning.  Reflecting on why one would choose one or the other (or why we allow other people to use one or the other when referring to us) reveals not just global hierarchies that promote privilege for some, but also our relationships with both our home and host countries.

Distancing Starts at Home:  Mawuna Koutonin challenged developed countries and their migrants on how they use these terms as distancing tactics: "Africans are immigrants. Arabs are immigrants. Asians are immigrants. However, Europeans are expats because they can’t be at the same level as other ethnicities. They are superior. Immigrants is a term set aside for ‘inferior races’."

As hard as that it is to hear, he's right.  The starting point is the attitude toward immigrants in the country of origin;  the world in which they were the natives.  In developed countries there is always an archetype of The Immigrant - usually someone who comes from a developing country.  Talk about immigration in the US, and it's all about people from Central and South America  In France, it's the image of someone from North Africa.

The general perception is that immigrants are a problem to be solved and that is just as true of the citizens who are ostensibly pro-immigration as it is of those who are adamantly against letting them in in the first place.  This position of privilege is taken for granted and is justified by any number of questionable rationalizations of which the most common is simply the "we were here first" argument.

Signalling the Host Country:  When a first world person moves to another country, all the images and perception of immigrants informed by the home country debates travel with him.  On top of those come the host country attitudes toward immigrants which may be hauntingly familiar: debates about integration, the burden on the social service networks,  and competition for jobs.  What the developed country migrant is trying to convey toward host country citizens when he uses words like "expatriate" and "guest" is:   I am not a problem and your internal immigration debates have nothing to do with me.

It is one group of migrants agreeing with the native citizens that immigrants are a problem and then trying to get themselves put in a different category in order to get better treatment. Sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn't. Koutonin talks about certain groups enjoying "the privileges of a racist system" and he's right that this happens.  However, the granting of such privileges remains in the hands of the host country nationals and can be something of a crapshoot.  Strenuously insisting on superior difference can be a sign of insecurity - having left the relative safety of the home territory, all migrants are unsure how they will be treated in the destination country.

Signalling the Home Country:  There is another reason why someone from a developed country might prefer "expatriates" to "migrants" and this comes from the fact that the home country is developed and relatively powerful in the world.    Powerful enough to reach into another country and make demands of its nationals there.  Some of these countries are not happy at all with citizens who leave and they try to discern if these migrants/expatriates are just sojourning abroad for a time or if they really have immigrated and are living permanently in another country.  Home country government and citizens tend to react badly to the latter;  it calls into question their own superiority in the hierarchy of nations.

In this context "expat" sends a very different signal than "immigrant".  It implies that the migration is a temporary thing and that the individual has some intention of returning at some future time.  It has an open-endedness that is very different from the term "immigrant" which is used in a lot of countries (especially in countries of immigration like the United States)  to mean permanent settlement and the path to citizenship.  It is the rare developed country expatriate/migrant who wants to openly tell the home country, "I am migrating and I am not planning on coming back."  There is a hint of danger in that, and fear that a powerful country might decide to act against the emigrants in some way.

It's hard for citizens of developed countries to be stripped of citizenship but that does not mean that the home government cannot indirectly force the issue by making policies that encourage its emigrants to give it up or return home, more or less voluntarily.  And there are other repercussions that are entirely within the power of a powerful nation-state to inflict on people whose behaviour it doesn't like.  It is a delicate dance and it might surprise Koutonin to know that citizens of developed countries are very wary of their own governments and feel the need to hide their true intentions behind ambiguous language.

 Koutonin pulled no punches in his piece which generated over 2000 comments.  This is just the beginning of the conversation and let's hope that it continues. If those of us from developed countries living abroad started eschewing the term "expatriate"  and started using "migrant" instead, we could do a lot to challenge home and host country assumptions about immigrants and strike a powerful blow against racism wherever we live. The next time we hear someone claiming something about "those damn immigrants"  tell him or her that you are one and quietly ask him what his problem is.  Do not let him or her off the hook when he replies, "Well, I'm not talking about you."

Oh yes, sir, you are.

**********************************************
Flophouse post from July 2013 about this very topic  Expats, Exbrats and Guests.

Monday, March 9, 2015

The Shoes Fit

What's up with the list thing on the Internet?   "10 Things" this and "Top 20" that.  The format certainly catches our attention (and it's all about attention)  if for no other reason than these titles assure us that whatever the content, it will be limited to those 5, 10 or 20 items and not one more.  If it's good, it's easy to remember; and if it's dreadful, the pain and boredom is limited.  A futile attempt at time management in the time sink that is the on-line life?

A few days ago a reader posted a link to such a list entitled The 10 Gaijin You Meet in Japan.  Gaijin is a Japanese word for "foreigner" and it's not a nice word.  I used it once to refer to myself in a conversation and my Japanese drinking buddies reacted badly.  "Don't use that word," they said.  "Why not?" I replied. "You use it."

In the spirit of linguistic and cultural appropriation, we foreigners own that word now and use it freely when we talk to or about each other. And this list is all about one gaijin talking about other gaijins for general edification and amusement.

It is a diverting list in a Paul Fussell sort of way.  Fussell was a keen and cruel observer of  human grandiosity and he did the witty, cutting, ego-deflating smack down quite well.  The fact that he was a class-conscious snob (and an ass to boot) has never lessened my pleasure at his genuinely funny and erudite commentary.

The 10 Gaijin is not that funny or well-written.  But that doesn't mean it isn't worth reading.

How many of us approached this list hoping that we would be entertained by the folly and bad behaviour of other people?  Because, of course, none of us ever acts abroad in a way that might bring blushes to the cheeks of our compatriots or fellow foreigners.  Nor do we have anything in common with each other besides the visas in our passports.  We are original, authentic people having an original and authentic experience and our behaviour is just fine, always, and beyond even the gentlest mockery.  

My own sense of specialness took a blow when the mild amusement I was feeling reading the list was abruptly cut short by a flash of recognition at  #8, the "My-Japans".  Replace "Japan" with "France" and the shoes fit.  That's an uncomfortable admission to make and my first reaction was to take off those sexy black pumps and throw them at the author's head.

Not so fast. The author may own his own words on the Net but he's not responsible for my reaction to them. And why, pray tell,  am I reacting to them with such indignation?  Because I can see myself here and I don't care for the reflection.

There is a sense of pride that we long-term expats/migrants feel after spending years integrating into a new country and culture and by God, we want points for the effort (because we sure aren't getting much applause from the natives).  Nothing is more aggravating then the newly-arrived, puppy-dog earnest, inexperienced compatriot who doesn't give us the recognition that we think we are due. And so we shut them down or attempt to cut them down to size.

As recently as a few months ago I engaged in this kind of mindful malice at a party in Paris.  When a person with less time in France informed me that she loved her Parisian neighborhood because there were no Americans in it, I took a perverse pleasure in gleefully pointing out that I had American friends living right next door to her.  Fussell would have been proud.

Am I the only long-term expatriate/migrant in the whole wide world who ever did such a thoroughly obnoxious thing? No, and I know this because it was done to me when I first arrived in France and it made me feel small and stupid. And I really resented it at the time.   Fast forward about 20 years and here I was inflicting it on someone else.

That appalling bit of self-revelation made The 10 Gaijin worth the read for me. As an old lady trying to get into Heaven now (also known as trying to clean up her act in anticipation of the day she gets the definitive answer to the question Is There a God?) it's good to have one's bad behaviour exposed while one still has a bit of time to do better.  For this I thank the author.

I cannot speak to the other elements on his list but perhaps someone here would care to take them on?

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Trailing Spouses in the 21st Century

"I abhor the term trailing spouse. I think it derogatory in a million different ways. I assume it's the new politically correct way of referring to what used to be known as the "expat wife", changed to take into account the growing number of men moving overseas due to the work of their partners. But nonetheless, I hate it. It might be a little less evocative of the expat wife stereotype of doing lunch and drinking gin in the afternoon, but it's no less loaded."

Rachael Green
Don't You Dare Call Me a Trailing Spouse

Much ado about nothing? No, the terms we use to define other people or ourselves have power. Green is correct that "expat wife" and "trailing spouse" are not neutral - the stereotypes associated with them have been around for decades and are still tainted with sexist assumptions.

How tainted? Exhibit A is my own reaction to the news that we were being expatriated to Japan. I guess my Women's Studies classes at university didn't take because I was filled with self-contempt and fear at the idea of joining this particular club of women abroad. Or perhaps those classes (and the feminist culture I bathed in as a youngster) did have some influence because here I was trying to deal with what felt like a dissonance between my high-minded feminist principles and an act that seemed to contradict them.

What this reveals is my own collusion with a stereotype that denigrates women. By feeling that there was something deeply wrong with me becoming a trailing spouse, I was also passing judgement on those who have done it. That is, I think, a deeper betrayal of feminist principles. Crapping on other women and internalizing negative stereotypes is about as far from solidarité as one can get.

Stereotypes are the epitome of "contempt before investigation" - the complete antithesis of the Beginner's Mind. So let's clear our minds and take another look at the "trailing spouse" (a term that leaves much to be desired but is a decent descriptive term if we suspend judgment).

It's a category of expatriates who live in another country primarily because their partner has a job or position there. In the 21st century this group includes men as well as women, gay couples as well as straight (heterosexual) ones. And right there we see the stereotype start to unravel.

Yes, women are probably still the majority of trailing spouses (for now) but any assumption you make that starts with the premise that it's always a woman following her male spouse is likely to come back and bite you in the ass when you least expect it. Like when you meet the nice couple at a party in Tokyo and, after you have said to the wife how lovely she looks, you ask the man what company he is with and could you have his business card. And it turns out that she's the highly-placed executive at L'Oréal and he's taking a sabbatical to learn a foreign language and spend more time with the children.

Because the world has changed and the trailing spouse population has a different sort of diversity about it, we now have an opportunity to compare experiences across gender and see what shakes out. 

I found one small study that took a shot at it.  It's a dissertation called  Adaptation of Trailing Spouses: Does Gender Matter? by Anne Braseby.  There are surely others and please let me know of any you have come across.  This one is relatively recent (2010) and compared the experiences of two groups of American trailing spouses of company transfers, one in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia and the other in Brussels, Belgium.  There were 7 men out of just over 40 subjects.  It's an interesting read and I'll give you a few of her findings I found thought-provoking.
All of the male spouses who relocated with children were on their first posting and were stay-at-home fathers at least two years before they relocated.  Consequently none of the male trailing spouses had given up a career to relocate, they were either stay-at-home fathers or in non-career track jobs. In contrast only 40 percent of women who relocated with children were stay-at-home mothers before they relocated... The majority of women had given up what they considered a career to become trailing spouses.
Isn't that interesting?  The sample size is too small to be definitive but isn't it curious that she didn't find even one lawyer, finance director or executive who quit his job and put his career on hold to follow his wife abroad?  To be investigated further and let's not jump the gun and say that we know why.   Stop and consider other possibilities.  One I came up with was my realization that I have never seen a woman manager offered an expatriation contract where it was known by the company that her husband had a career and a position equal to or greater than hers.  Is there a sexist assumption here that a man in that position wouldn't give all that up for his wife and so he's not ever given the opportunity?  

And even more interesting finding had to do with seeing expatriation as permission to do something that the individual wanted to do anyway but found uncomfortable or difficult to do in the home country.  It has to do with the juggling act between paid employment and family and some of the expectations around them.    Oddly enough some of the career women and the stay-at-home fathers were in a similar place facing the low status Americans confer on people who take care of children.

For some (not all) of the women who gave up their careers to follow husbands abroad, it was a solution to a very common dilemma.  As much as they loved their jobs and careers, they also wanted to spend more time with their children and were exhausting themselves trying to do it all.
"Giving up work in the U.S. was something they would not do, but relocation gave them a reason or “permission” to become stay-at-home mothers without some of the social stigma they perceived they would feel in the U.S."  
As for the stay-at-home fathers, Braseby had this to say:
"What is interesting is that for them, following their wives to another country where the visa issues would not allow them to work, these trailing husbands were moving to a more
socially acceptable status than they were accorded in the U.S. They had a reason for why
they were not working, while in the U.S. there is the expectation that men go to work and
not to stay home with the children."
This meant, Braseby says:
"an enhancement in their self-esteem. Their role became not a role based on lifestyle choice (in which the male stay-at-home caregiver would easily be seen as avoiding the proper breadwinning role), but a role accorded to them by their circumstances. They had to stay at home because government policy did not permit them to work. They no longer had to justify their choice of parenting over work, reproductive over productive labor. After relocation they were afforded an excuse for their choices and, in fact, claimed a good deal of admiration from many of the women trailing spouses. Their self esteem increased because the community recognized them for the job they are doing (i.e. supporting their wives and in many cases looking after the children) rather than the job they are not doing."
I'll stop there knowing that some Flophouse readers will take exception to Braseby's conclusions and I hope to hear your objections, corrections and clarifications in the comments section.  

Again, this is a very small qualitative study but I found it a good place to start busting stereotypes around "trailing spouses".  Let's apply some  21st century reality to that 20th century thinking, folks, and see what happens.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Two Faces of American Emigration/Expatriation

I think it is fair to say that the face of American emigration/expatriation today is Eduardo Saverin.  That is the name that consistently comes up when I talk with homelanders about Americans abroad and our relationship to the U.S. tax system.    This is the face, the poster child if you will,  that supports the narrative that Americans abroad have all fled the US to escape taxes.  That's right, folks, American emigration is all about criminal behaviour unless we can prove otherwise to the satisfaction of our compatriots.

How powerful is this narrative in the homeland?  Powerful enough that two senators tried to get a law passed based on that one highly publicized case.  The bill, called the ex-Patriot act, was introduced in reaction to Saverin's renunciation and had a very clear objective:  it was mean to punish past, present, and future expatriation - to prevent (or at least strongly discourage) Americans from leaving the US for other lands and cutting their ties to the American political community.

The first goal seemed to resonate with the homelanders since they are still talking about how ungrateful Saverin was and how he got away with something. The millions he paid to expatriate (yes, Saverin paid the Exit Tax - the tax on emigration) seems to be either forgotten completely or dismissed as a mere token amount that did not sufficiently compensate the US (and US taxpayers) for the benefits he received as a US citizen.

It was the fact that the Exit Tax and all the other ugly aspects of US emigration policy like the Name and Shame list (1996 Reed Amendment) are not turning out to be a sufficient deterrent that three senators decided to up the ante with a law that would, in addition to the stiff Exit Tax,  banish these expatriates forever from American soil. Senators Robert Casey (D-Pennsylvania), Jack Reed (D-Rhode Island) and Charles Schumer (D-New York)  introduced the act in 2012 and in spite of all the headlines it generated, it didn't go anywhere.  That didn't stop them, however, it just slowed them down for a few months.  According to AngloInfo they reintroduced their proposal hidden inside a 2013 immigration bill which just goes to show that these fellows are deadly serious and if they can't get what they want openly, they are perfectly happy to do so by stealth.

With all the anger over emigration and expatriation in the US, why didn't this bill pass?  I don't think it had anything to do with the right to expatriate that is enshrined in international law since the US Congress has never shown that they give two hoots about that.  It was the possible impact on Americans living in the U.S. that I'm pretty sure was the deal-breaker.

Homelanders suffer from a two delusions relevant to our discussion.  One  is that every American is simply a "temporarily embarrassed millionaire."  The other is that Americans living abroad are all living the good life outside the US. "Good life" is a very nebulous concept but if you listen to the homelanders carefully you'll hear them place so many of their personal yearnings and desires into that term and it can be anything from security, opportunity and better health care to personal growth and adventure.  One way to look at it is that it is an expression of all the things that they think they can't find or can't have in the United States.

The vast majority of Americans may never ever leave (many Americans don't even have passports - the esseential document that makes leaving any country possible) but they still dream emigrant dreams.  How else to explain their eagerness to buy books about Americans restoring old stone farmhouses in Provence or life on the beach  "Down Under" or retirement in Belize/Mexico/Thailand any of the other autobiographical adventure tales that do very well back in the States?  And every American who lives vicariously through these stories feels the tug. "That could be me," he or she thinks before coming to his senses and listing all the reasons why it just isn't possible "right now."  But perhaps, once relieved of the "temporary embarrassment" of  limited means, it could happen. In any case, the idea that there might be impediments to leaving the United States (whether that means just taking a trip, settling permanently outside the US or renouncing) just doesn't sit well with Americans.  Is not the "freedom to leave" the very essence of freedom?  If Americans couldn't be mobile (and global) - if they could not become citizens of other countries and choose to attach themselves to other political communities elsewhere -  then they would join the captive citizens and subjects of other states who are, most agree, not free at all.

So how to explain the countervailing desires of homelanders to punish people like Saverin (and the unrelenting characterization of American emigrants as suspected tax evaders) while rejecting anything that would close the door (even partially) on their own right to emigrate or expatriate?

One answer, I believe, can be found if we look at the very different reactions to two well-known expatriations.  On one hand we have Saverin who is still being vilified for leaving the US and renouncing his citizenship.  In fact the anger was so high that Americans lawmakers are still trying to make political hay out of it.  On the other we have another very rich citizen who relocated to  Switzerland and gave up her citizenship, Tina Turner.  Ms. Turner is not as rich as Mr. Saverin but she's still up there with 200 million USD in assets (which meant that she most likely had to pay the Exit Tax).

Her renunciation was widely reported but did not generate anything even close to the outrage that followed the news of Saverins' renunciation.  The usual anti-expat suspects in the US Congress like Reed and Schumer were strangely silent about it and the US media bent over backward to say that Ms. Turner had very good reasons to expatriate (renounce) that had nothing whatsoever to do with the US tax system.  Nor have I seen (though perhaps I wasn't looking in the right places)  homeland Americans calling Tina Turner a traitorous, ungrateful tax dodger and calling for her permanent banishment from the United States.  In a nutshell, Eduardo Saverin was presumed guilty and Tina Turner is presumed innocent.  (Or at least that's the way it looks from where I sit.)

Why?

I will give you my take on it and then I would love to hear your thoughts.

I think Americans at home can more easily identify with Tina Turner.  Here is a self-made African-American woman who did not come from great wealth and who succeeded because she is smart, beautiful and talented.  She is admired and liked by millions of Americans who grew up (like me) enjoying her music.  Her migration to Switzerland is portrayed in the media as something that happened by pure chance (an "Accidental migrant") and for a wonderful purely positive reason (romance) -  both of which resonate with Americans dreaming emigrant dreams.   And now she intends to stay permanently and retire in her adopted country with the l'homme de sa vie.  All this explains her decision to the satisfaction of  homeland Americans.

This tale is more than just satisfying,  Tina Turner's migration story is, well, something Americans can actually identify with.  It says that even someone who began life disadvantaged and with modest means can have the American Dream + which consists of succeeding in the US and then  moving abroad to do whatever one fancies out there in the world beyond the borders of the US. (And what is even more interesting is that some Americans suspect these days that the only way they can succeed is by leaving America.)

There is just one problem with Turner's story: it explains her migration but not her renunciation.   Tina Turner could have done all of the above as a dual US/Swiss citizen.  If those are the  reasons Tina Turner emigrated then she could have had every single one of them and stayed a US citizen.  Clearly there were other considerations that caused her to consider cutting her ties to the US - a process that is not simple and is likely to cost her a great deal of money.

Lex parsimoniae - the downside to living abroad and being a dual US/Swiss citizen is that lifelong relationship to the US IRS that all Americans outside the US are subject to that would have affected not only her but her husband as well.  It is simply defies common sense to think that the US tax system didn't have any effect at all on her decision to renounce.

Homeland Americans seem to genuinely believe her (or her lawyers) when they insist that the US tax system wasn't a consideration but they don't find credible Eduardo Saverin when he said of his renunciation:  "The decision was strictly based on my interest of living and working in Singapore."

Two faces of American emigration/expatriation  and dare I say it?  Deux poids, deux mesures.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

A Little Context Around That Lost Generation

"Migration produces diasporas, and diasporas produce migration:  which is the chicken and which is the egg?"

Paul Collier
Exodus

Migration also produces myths.  There are the historical facts and then there are the narratives produced by the homeland, the host country and the diasporas themselves that are offered as explanations for why they left, why they came and why they stayed.

One of the most powerful narratives in the history of Americans emigration is the exodus of American writers from the United States to the city of Paris in the period between the two world wars of the 20th century. They were called "The Lost Generation" by Gertrude Stein and the name stuck.

It was the Lost Generation's autobiographies and the media attention around their activities, and not academic studies, that created the story around this migration which goes something like this:   In the 1920's and '30's Americans writers fleeing puritanism, industrialization,  and the lack of appreciation for their art in the U.S. found a home in Paris, a city of artists and intellectuals, where one could survive on very little thanks to a favorable exchange rate.  Better to be hungry in the Luxembourg Garden, said Henry Miller, than in Central Park, New York.

These are inspiring tales of starving artists and the bohemian life which, for the most part, have happy endings. Most of these writers returned to the U.S. and commercial success.  Their stories sold and sold well.   Still do.

But were they true tales or fairy tales?

In 2008 Daniel Gallagher, a graduate student at L'Université Sorbonne Nouvelle, Paris III, successfully defended his doctoral thesis:  Les écrivains américains à Paris entre les deux guerres : les conditions économiques et sociales de leur expatriation (American Writers in Paris between the Two Wars:  the Social and Economic Conditions of Their Expatriation) which became this book:


In his thesis and book Gallagher challenges some of the basic premises of the standard narrative about these American expatriates.  He asks the all-important (and, oh so obvious, question), "But are they true?"  Even better Gallagher puts these writers in context - the French context (what was going on in France at that time) and places them firmly in the middle of the American "colony" in Paris at that time - a community of which these writers and artists were a very small minority

Why They Came:  The Myth of Paris as a Cheap Place to Live:  Anyone who lives in the Paris region these days knows quite well that the cost of living is quite high and decent affordable apartments are hard to find in the city center.  Gallagher argues that 1920's Paris was not much different.  It was not cheap to live there even for those with dollars in their pockets and a favorable exchange rate.   Housing was scarce, rents were high and inflation ate away at every one's purchasing power (foreigners and French alike).  How scarce?  In 1924, the city of Paris prepared to rent 300 apartments they had built to relieve the housing shortage. For these apartments the city received 46,000 applications.

The paucity of housing and the high cost of living was, after the war, one of the primary preoccupations of residents in France after 1919.   So many tourists complained that the city of Paris in 1921 promised to intervene on their behalf.   

Gallagher shows that there were other  European destinations that were much less expensive for Americans  like Germany.  If economic considerations were one of the Old Continent's main attractions, then why didn't these Americans follow the money and go where they could get the most bang for their buck?  Gallagher argues that the cost of living argument was a pretext - a "bonne excuse" - and there were other, much more compelling (but far less romantic) reasons for Americans to come to the City of Light.

How They Were Perceived in France:  American writers of this period (notably Henry Miller and Ernest Hemingway) were free with their opinions about Paris, France and the French but how did the French themselves regard them?  As we saw above Paris was not particularly cheap for residents and American tourists were often surfacturé (over billed) because they were perceived as being rich.  Gallagher says that many French at the time had two reasons not to love the Americans in their midst.  The first is that they were seen as the root cause of the high cost of living:
On en a voulu aux Américains pour la hausse des prix en France, premièrement parce qu'ils étaient assez nombreux et que leur pouvoir d'achat par rapport aux autres expatriés - notamment les Italiens, les Russes et les Polonais - était très élevé.
(They blamed Americans for the rise in prices in France, first because there were many of them and because their purchasing power was high compared to other expatriates, notably the Italians, the Russians and the Poles.)
The second was the issue of the French debt incurred during the First World War.  The United States expected repayment of the money it loaned to European countries (around 180 billion in today's dollars).  The French did not agree and deeply resented American efforts to collect.   

As economic conditions worsened for the average French, this simmering resentment spilled over into action.  In 1926, Gallagher says, 6 American tour buses were emptied during a riot and the police had to step in to protect them.  The situation was so bad that it reached the top leaders in both countries:  the French president called in the Paris police chief to ask him to protect American tourists, and the American president sent a mild but public threat to the French saying that if Americans were not treated correctly in France, they could always return home and spend their money in the U.S.

So 1920's France was not always hospitable for Americans, a community that was very visible and occasionally vulnerable to host country hostility.  It is telling that the best the American lawmakers could do at the time to protect Americans in France was to make speeches against the "unjust and unjustified attacks."

The American Community in France:  Reading the autobiographies of Americans in Paris about this period one might have the impression that American artists and writers were everywhere and constituted the bulk of U.S. expatriates in that city.  Gallagher shows that there were actually two American communities in Paris:  there were the writers and artists who were the darling of the American media and there was another, much larger population, made up of American businessmen.  What was the connection between the two?  Gallagher argues that the infrastructure that was built to meet the needs of the latter made it possible for the former to live in Paris.

After the First World War the French government invited many American companies to start companies and invest in the Hexagon. There was nothing haphazard about their arrival - American companies benefited from the "encouragement" and sometimes outright assistance, of both the home and the host country governments. Along with the companies came their personnel and their families. How many?  According to Gallagher around 42,000 in 1924 - a figure that would drop precipitously in 1926 because, he argues, of French tax policy toward foreigners.  It was, he says, the largest American expatriate community in Europe at the time.

Of those 40,000+ U.S. citizens very few were writers or artists.  Gallagher quotes sources that indicate that they were perhaps a few hundred creatives in a sea of tens of thousands of businessmen, entrepreneurs and professionals who are very rarely mentioned in those autobiographies that purport to define the quintessential "American in Paris" experience at the time.

 The businessmen were there first, the Americans creatives came later and relied on, Gallagher contends, the infrastructure and networks that were built for those who came for commerce. Clubs, churches, hospitals, schools, the library (1921), American university associations, as well as:

"The Men's Get-Together Club; Troop One;  Paris Boy Scouts of America; National Councils of the YMCA of the US and Canada; Old Colony Club of France, Order of the Cincinnati-French Section;  Quartermaster's Association;  Sons of the American Revolution - Empire State Society;  The Association of American Volunteers with the French Army 1914-1917 et The Lafayette Escadrille....."

In the mid-1920's Gallagher finds 27 Americans dentists and 44 American lawyers practicing in Paris.  In 1920, he says, the American Chamber of Commerce in Paris had 550 members which dropped to 8 in 1941.  All this activity meant jobs for the less fortunate Americans in Paris:  jobs as secretaries, translators, teachers, professors, journalists and the like.  This work did not require that an American be integrated into French society since much of the work was in English and the workplace culture was American.  

In addition to providing a means of making a living, this infrastructure was also a safety net.  If an American fell ill in France, for example, there was the American Hospital (which in the beginning was exclusively for the American community).  Even Henry Miller preferred to be treated there as opposed to going to a French hospital or clinic.  

Gallagher's conclusions fly in the face of everything we think we know about Americans in Paris in the 1920's and '30's.  It wasn't about the cost of living or the exchange rate, says Gallagher, nor does he think that it had much to do with being misunderstood at home or Prohibition or any of the other standard reasons for the exodus of American creatives.

 A much more plausible explanation, he says, is that American writers of this period "sont allées à Paris parce que des Américains se trouvaient déjà dans la capitale, et que Paris ressemblait plus a l'Amérique qu'aucune autre ville en dehors des Etats-Unis" (went to Paris because there were already Americans in the capital and because Paris ressembled America more than any other city outside the United States) at that time.

If what Gallagher says is true then why hasn't someone before this debunked the myth of the "American in Paris"? I'd say because so many have an interest in perpetuating it.  For the French it promotes the idea of Paris as an intellectual and artistic center and it allows them contrast their society with that of the United States (to the latter's detriment).  The portrait many American emigrants past and present paint of France conforms beautifully to how many French want their country to be portrayed:  as something special, mysterious, less materialistic, less modern, more rural, more interested in the good life as opposed to the mere making of money, and fighting the good fight against mondialisation (wasn't that once called Americanization?) And it occurs to me as I write this that French conservatives need look no farther for agreement on certain fundamental ideas about France than the writing of American expatriates living here.

For Americans in the homeland, those who would emigrate or those who simply want to vicariously live the experience through the many books, blogs, and articles about life in France,  it is a narrative that does not in any way challenge the American way of life.  After all, once the Lost Generation had their fun, almost all returned home as did the American businessmen, their families, and the students.

Lastly, those who did leave the U.S. for France may have the most to gain from the myth.  It is still a means of making a living.  It still confers cultural capital that is good long after the adventure is over.  Vestiges of the infrastructure that served Americans in France so well in the early 20th century are still around:  The American Church, the American Library, Paris AA and many other institutions have made it into the 21st century and are still the core of this "colony" which has been estimated at between 50,000 and 75,000 residents today. 

Back in November Mike Manson wrote this thoroughly enjoyable post:   Why I’m Wrong About Everything (And So Are You) and he invited his reader to "Assume that you’re wrong — about everything. See where that takes you."  That is precisely what Daniel Gallagher did for his doctoral thesis - he questioned the premises behind this period of American emigration - everything that we presumed to know about the Lost Generation - and it led him to some very interesting places.  

I have to say that I enjoyed this book very much, though a twinge went through me as I read the final chapter - it wounded (if not outright killed) the romance of this era for me for all time.  I urge you to read it with an open mind - an "assume you're wrong" mentality - and let Gallagher repaint the picture for you.

And then, once you've read it, open your mind a little further and question what you think you know about Americans living in Paris today.  That, mes amis, just might make an even better book...