Before Christmas I was talking to an older woman I know from church. One of her daughter-in-laws is American (fancy that) and she is both puzzled and a bit irritated at her son's wife who is not taking to life in the Hexagon very well. She still doesn't speak French, she said, and she hardly leaves the house. She comes to family events and then refuses to sit and chat with everyone. She's not working, doesn't do much of anything and seems very unhappy.
This is not the first time I've encountered this kind of situation. Doesn't happen often but when it does, what I hear breaks my heart.
For every "American in Paris" book out there that says that integration was a breeze and claim they are now fluent in French, living in a fabulous apartment in Paris with their charming successful husbands and perfectly bi-lingual chères têtes blondes, there are many other untold stories of isolation, depression, problems learning the language, dealing with the extended French family or finding a decent paying job.
Hell, I read some of these books and feel like a failure.
If you are one of those living the fantasy, read no further. But if you are an American thinking about moving here or you are already here and feeling low, here are a few random thoughts I offer to you from my experience that might help:
Living the Shock: Yes, there are a zillion books out there about how hard it is to adjust to any foreign culture. Read away but understand that reading about it isn't the same as living it. If you think that you can arm yourself with enough knowledge to escape the worst of it, think again. As far as I can tell there is no correlation between the number of books about the target culture read and how you personally will be able to handle it. You may be in for a rough ride (or not). The only cure I know of is time. It just takes awhile to adjust. Never ever compare yourself to other American migrants who seem to be doing much better. You have no idea what is going on inside their heads. They may be suffering, too, but they just aren't letting you see it.
Dealing with Differences: People are people, right? Just treat the people around you the way you wish to be treated and you'll be fine. Yes and no. The first sentence is so general that it is useless. The second can get you in a lot of trouble. Think about it - you the American want the people in France to treat you the way you would expect to be treated back in the United States. That's not going to happen. They may behave differently toward you because you are a foreigner (and, if you are honest, don't many Americans do the same thing to the French in the US?) or they may treat you as they would another French person. Either way, it won't be what you expect and there is very little you can do about it because you can't control what other people say, do or feel.
This is the source of a lot of anxiety. Americans in general have a very high internal locus of control and are taught that they can direct or influence people, places and things if they just try hard enough. When that doesn't seem to work, there is a tendency for Americans (and I think American women in particular) to turn on themselves and start thinking it's all their fault.
Humility is good, beating yourself up is bad. It won't help. It can lead to severe depression and actually make it harder to integrate. How well does anyone learn anything if she's come to the conclusion that she's stupid or an incapable?
Being an Amateur Anthropologist: The obvious things like learning the language and table manners are actually not that hard to figure out because these things have explicit rules. It's the implicit that is tough because not even the French can necessarily explain to you why they act in a certain way or why something is right or wrong. I cannot count the number of times I did something that raised eyebrows and so I asked, OK, explain to me why and the answer was "Parce que c'est comme ça" (because that's the way it is). These people are not fooling with you (or me), they really don't know. It just never occurred to them to ask.
One way to deal with this (and to keep yourself from going crazy) is to think of yourself as an amateur anthropologist writing a thick description of another culture. Your job is not to make value judgements, nor is it to speculate why. You are just there to observe and you modify your behaviour to test your hypotheses. When I do X, I get a very strong negative reaction. When I do Y, no one notices. So if I want to fit in, I need to do Y.
Making Mistakes: What I described in the previous paragraph is a negative feedback system. Culture seems to operate that way. Do something right and no one notices. Do something wrong and suddenly it feels like someone just dropped a ton of bricks on your head. It's very hard on the ego.
My sense is that the French are very hard on foreigners and on each other when mistakes are made. They can be very critical and very sensitive to criticism. I have seen people I love turn around and leap with glee when they detect a spelling mistake in a note the concierge leaves for apartment residents. I was once walking my garden barefoot and the neighbor's daughter came out to tell me that I needed to put on some shoes. Her mother came out just after and yelled (and I mean yelled) at her for being disrespectful to an adult. I once tried to count the number of negative remarks my French spouse made to me in the course of a morning. I ran out of fingers in the first hour.
Sometimes this constant criticism is crushing. I don't know what it's like for American men married to French women but it comes up quite often in my conversations with American women married to French men and they take this behaviour very personally.
The conclusion that some come to is that France is not a safe place to make mistakes and that can be either an accelerator or an impediment to integration. There is no doubt in my mind that negative cultural feedback systems work. Fear can be a very powerful motivator but then so is encouragement and positive feedback. Lack of the latter can lead to an American migrant simply giving up.
Letting Time Take Care of It: Remember that no one has the power to change people, places or things. Il y a des cons partout (there are idiots everywhere) and every migrant who has a bad experience with someone in the host country needs to take a step back.
The longer you live somewhere, the more experiences you will accumulate, the more people you will know, and the better you will feel, until the exact opposite happens and you'll wake up one day and wonder how you could have changed so much. At that point you'll have a different fear: losing yourself. When you look in the mirror, have coffee with a friend or walk out of a government office with exactly what you came for, you'll have this flash of "Who in the hell is this person? Is it still me or is it some alien that's invaded my body?"
Dealing with Bad Situations: Sometimes the situation really is a bad one and would be bad regardless of where you are living and who you are married to. I've heard some true (and truly terrible) tales of that charming husband changing drastically once he arrived on his own turf: mental and physical abuse, controlling behaviour and the like. It happens but isn't it interesting that you don't find many autobiographies about that when you peruse Amazon for stories about Americans in France. (Or, for that matter, similar tales about French women in the U.S. married to Americans.)
Finding Your Way: Only you can determine whether it's just a question of culture shock or if you really are in a bad place. My best advice if you are struggling is to first give up the idea that going at it alone is always your best strategy. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't and asking for help does not make you a failure. Consider the possibility that those who did integrate and built lives here supposedly solo are not telling the whole truth when they write about their experiences. Maybe they just got lucky. Or perhaps they suffered a great deal but that sort of thing doesn't sell books or make for a very popular blog, does it?
Oddly enough, sometimes it is other Americans who are not helpful. Folks, this is not a race. It's not a competition. It's not about who has the best French accent or whether or not someone has a "real" job or who does or doesn't spend time with the American community in that area. There is no prize for "Most Integrated American Living the Most Authentic Foreign Experience." But sometimes we act as if there was such a thing. And when you think about it for two seconds, that's really dumb.
Getting Help: So once you've rid yourself of other people's expectations, where do you go for help? Personally, I think it's perfectly OK to go back to the source and by that I mean other Americans. Look, the French husband, colleagues, friends and so on may not get where you are coming from because they've never been a foreign woman in their own country. Not their fault and it's not yours either.
Find another American or an English-speaker who you trust, and perhaps has a situation similar to yours, and sit down for a long lunch where you can get what you are feeling off your chest. Or find an organization that can point you to people who can help.
Let me be crystal clear here, if you are having trouble adjusting to life here this can be the very best thing you can do for yourself and the people around you. Getting your head on straight will put you in a frame of mind that is much more conducive and open to integration. Another possibility is a cross-cultural counselor. I've never used one but I know they exist (and if anyone has links or one to propose, please do so). The American Church has a program for Americans called Bloom Where You're Planted which I've heard is quite good. In the past I was a member of AAWE (Association of American Wives of Europeans) and I thought they were very good folks. There is also a professional association for women called EPWN (European Professional Women's Network).
Temporary refuges or a place to live permanently? Does it really matter? When you die, do you really think the more integrated foreigners here will have a better shot at heaven? Or that someone will inscribe "Lived in France for 30 years and still couldn't use the subjunctive correctly" on the family crypt?
Just relax and do the best you can. Concentrate on being happy, not on complex verb tenses or whether or not you did or said something "wrong" at dinner last night. Take it one day at a time. If you are really struggling and in a very bad place, find help (and please feel free to send me an email if you like). Integration is a process, not a race. A journey, not a destination. And remember that nobody gets to be valedictorian of this class.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Monday, January 6, 2014
Robert Morris on FATCA
At last a book about the beast, FATCA.
I read Robert Morris' FATCA and the New Birth of American Empire in one sitting a few weeks ago and I just posted a review up on Amazon.
It's not long and it's not an expensive book but it is for you? The disclaimer at the beginning is very helpful because Morris clarifies that he is not speaking to Americans abroad in his essay. If you are one of these "US Persons" he has no advice to offer though he points out that what's happening to them (us) is a darn shame. I immediately disagreed with him on two points however in that introduction: he says Americans living outside the U.S. have power (which is nonsense) and that media outlets are willing to shine the spotlight on our stories (yes, but only very recently and after much effort by folks like Marvin, Peter and Lynne).
"This essay will focus on everyone else." So his words are meant for those not directly in the line of fire - all those who think they are safe and that this business does not concern them because they are not US citizens or don't have connections to the United States.
Morris begins by admitting that at first glimpse the law might seem to be quite a fine thing for those committed to the fight against tax evasion: "FATCA requires foreign businesses to provide information on any US accounts they manage to the United States Internal Revenue Service (IRS). If those foreign banks and investment companies do not do this, they are subject to a 30% withholding tax."
Good for them, some say. At last something that really goes after all those darn tax cheats - those who profit from America but who, when the time comes to pay the bill, illegally send their money offshore, leaving the poor fools at home to face higher taxes.
Ah, but the devil indeed is in the details and a closer reading of the law (and the 500+ pages of regulations AND all those intergovernmental agreements) is required to understand the full scope of this nasty little piece of extraterritorial legislation. If it were just Americans impacted then it would simply be an affair between Americans in the homeland, the America diaspora abroad and those Yanks who keep their precious persons at home but let their money do the migrating.
Morris argues that everyone in the world is impacted in ways that are hard to see from just a cursory reading. His claim is that FATCA is "imperialist, racist and protectionist" and his essay is the case for repeal on those grounds.
FATCA is U.S Imperialism: FATCA requires that foreign (that is, non-US) entities be strong-armed into acting as enforcers for the American government. Every US person (a US citizen, a Green Card holder or anyone with a connection to the United States) is a target and a potential source of revenue even if they don't live or work in the U.S. and the money earned was earned entirely outside of the United States. You wouldn't get more extra-territorial than that - we are talking about people, assets and bank accounts that do not live on U.S. soil. Up until FATCA these things were subject to the laws of the country where they were located. Getting a job, earning a living and opening a bank account in Country A meant obeying the laws of that country and paying taxes to that government. FATCA (and by extension citizenship-based taxation) turns that on its head: "The most important laws governing the economic activity of US citizens abroad are no longer the laws of the country that they live in."
Furthermore, in order to implement the law in the 190+ countries of the world, foreign countries are being asked to change their own laws, charters and constitutions to make them FATCA-friendly. Hard to see how anyone could argue that this is not imperialism. "The level of instrusiveness is staggering. If a given country has a confidentiality law that forbids their banks from sharing this kind of information, then the law has to be changed. Put simply, with FATCA the United States is asserting the right to tell other countries what their laws should be."
FATCA is Racist & Protectionist: 500+ pages of complex regulations in English. Small countries and emerging markets, Morris argues, are at a terrible disadvantage under FATCA. Developed countries already have experience with complex regulations but even they are groaning under the sheer cost of re-tooling their IT systems and modifying their procedures to comply. How are less-developed countries supposed to manage? This was, in fact, a point made at the European Parliament FATCA meeting last year (my report here) by Action Aid "who pointed out quite rightly that such systems and the information they contain must be made readily available to developing countries."
I see no sign whatsoever that the Europeans or the Americans are taking this aspect seriously. FATCA is an affair of les grands and the little people and the little countries will simply have to adjust to this brave new world.
But Morris makes the point quite well, I think:
"FATCA creates a catch-22. Banks from emerging markets can only become large modern financial institutions by competing in international markets. FATCA, however, requires these banks to be large modern financial institutions before they can compete in international markets...The developed countries did not have to put up with these burdens while they were developing, it is unjust to force others to take them."
"Now that the benefits of economic growth are finally spreading to non-white (or non-Japanese) areas of the world, the US government is ensuring that a vital part of every country's economy, the banking sector, is reserved for the already developing countries. This protectionist measure may not be racist in intention, but it certainly is in effect."
As for those intergovernmental agreements (IGA's) one could see them as special deals the US is making with its "friends" - the other developed nations. One has only to look at the French IGA to see how the burden has been lightened for this and other European countries. "The rich and established countries are being given a lighter, easier path to dealing with FATCA." Will African, South American or Asian banks get the same deal? We shall see.
FATCA begets GATCA (a term coined by Marvin van Horn). The idea of a worldwide information financial information system has been around for quite awhile. There are other systems in place or in progress that more or less do what FATCA does. The EU, in particular, has what it calls AEOI (automatic exchange of information) and they are expanding it. It is more mature than FATCA (which has yet to be implemented) and the Europeans have chosen a more step-by-step approach. The OECD has also been working on it and has this fine article about how they view the matter.
But they all have the same ultimate objective: to be a model for the rest of the world. I have speculated more than once that the Americans looked at all of this and greatly feared that they would be subject to a system made in the EU and so they decided to float their own system as a counter-offer (if not an outright attempt to do in these efforts in favor of something more favorable to the US). Is this a race to define the model? The story is just beginning and I think there will be much negotiation to come as these competing models bump up against each other and their merits and demerits become clearer. In any case, I would make the point that the idea behind FATCA was not something dreamed up by the United States, but rather something that has been around for awhile now.
Morris touches on the international nature of these efforts: "With FATCA we will set up an international tax regime that will be subject to the interests of those with the most power. For the next few decades, the United States will be the most powerful interest. As all systems do, it will consolidate, and get more powerful. As this process continues, the system created will look more and more like a worldwide empire. The evolution will outlast US dominance."
This is where I would part company with Morris. I am simply not convinced that the final system (and I believe there will be one) will be FATCA. It's not just that there are competing models out there but also the Americans have not exactly shined in their implementation efforts. They have struggled to produce the regulations to make the law a reality. The signing of IGA's has been at a snail's pace and each one is different depending on how well each country was able to negotiate. That doesn't look terribly efficient nor does it scream "model for the rest of the world."
There is also the uncertainty around reciprocity. Americans abroad may not be powerful but Americans banks in the United States are. That foreign banks are subject to FATCA is fine by them - in fact, it gives American banks a competitive advantage. But the suggestion that they might also be required to turn over information to other countries, well, that does not sit well and they have friends in Congress who will help.
Lastly, the agency that has been tasked with actually setting up the infrastructure and administration for FATCA on the US side is one that is not loved and has a very tight budget: the U.S. Internal Revenue Service. On top of last year's scandals, low morale and even further attempts to cut their budget, they have been handed Obamacare (the new US national healthcare system). Oh what a gift.... Reports from the US seem to say that it is not going well.
The Taxpayer Advocate Service (led by the remarkable Nina Olson) has already warned Congress that the IRS today is not funded sufficiently well to adequately serve taxpayers in the homeland, much less those abroad. And now they want to add the rest of the world into the mix, responsibility for a model international tax reporting scheme, while cutting their budget?
Ce n'est pas sérieux.
I read Robert Morris' FATCA and the New Birth of American Empire in one sitting a few weeks ago and I just posted a review up on Amazon.
It's not long and it's not an expensive book but it is for you? The disclaimer at the beginning is very helpful because Morris clarifies that he is not speaking to Americans abroad in his essay. If you are one of these "US Persons" he has no advice to offer though he points out that what's happening to them (us) is a darn shame. I immediately disagreed with him on two points however in that introduction: he says Americans living outside the U.S. have power (which is nonsense) and that media outlets are willing to shine the spotlight on our stories (yes, but only very recently and after much effort by folks like Marvin, Peter and Lynne).
"This essay will focus on everyone else." So his words are meant for those not directly in the line of fire - all those who think they are safe and that this business does not concern them because they are not US citizens or don't have connections to the United States.
Morris begins by admitting that at first glimpse the law might seem to be quite a fine thing for those committed to the fight against tax evasion: "FATCA requires foreign businesses to provide information on any US accounts they manage to the United States Internal Revenue Service (IRS). If those foreign banks and investment companies do not do this, they are subject to a 30% withholding tax."
Good for them, some say. At last something that really goes after all those darn tax cheats - those who profit from America but who, when the time comes to pay the bill, illegally send their money offshore, leaving the poor fools at home to face higher taxes.
Ah, but the devil indeed is in the details and a closer reading of the law (and the 500+ pages of regulations AND all those intergovernmental agreements) is required to understand the full scope of this nasty little piece of extraterritorial legislation. If it were just Americans impacted then it would simply be an affair between Americans in the homeland, the America diaspora abroad and those Yanks who keep their precious persons at home but let their money do the migrating.
Morris argues that everyone in the world is impacted in ways that are hard to see from just a cursory reading. His claim is that FATCA is "imperialist, racist and protectionist" and his essay is the case for repeal on those grounds.
FATCA is U.S Imperialism: FATCA requires that foreign (that is, non-US) entities be strong-armed into acting as enforcers for the American government. Every US person (a US citizen, a Green Card holder or anyone with a connection to the United States) is a target and a potential source of revenue even if they don't live or work in the U.S. and the money earned was earned entirely outside of the United States. You wouldn't get more extra-territorial than that - we are talking about people, assets and bank accounts that do not live on U.S. soil. Up until FATCA these things were subject to the laws of the country where they were located. Getting a job, earning a living and opening a bank account in Country A meant obeying the laws of that country and paying taxes to that government. FATCA (and by extension citizenship-based taxation) turns that on its head: "The most important laws governing the economic activity of US citizens abroad are no longer the laws of the country that they live in."
Furthermore, in order to implement the law in the 190+ countries of the world, foreign countries are being asked to change their own laws, charters and constitutions to make them FATCA-friendly. Hard to see how anyone could argue that this is not imperialism. "The level of instrusiveness is staggering. If a given country has a confidentiality law that forbids their banks from sharing this kind of information, then the law has to be changed. Put simply, with FATCA the United States is asserting the right to tell other countries what their laws should be."
FATCA is Racist & Protectionist: 500+ pages of complex regulations in English. Small countries and emerging markets, Morris argues, are at a terrible disadvantage under FATCA. Developed countries already have experience with complex regulations but even they are groaning under the sheer cost of re-tooling their IT systems and modifying their procedures to comply. How are less-developed countries supposed to manage? This was, in fact, a point made at the European Parliament FATCA meeting last year (my report here) by Action Aid "who pointed out quite rightly that such systems and the information they contain must be made readily available to developing countries."
I see no sign whatsoever that the Europeans or the Americans are taking this aspect seriously. FATCA is an affair of les grands and the little people and the little countries will simply have to adjust to this brave new world.
But Morris makes the point quite well, I think:
"FATCA creates a catch-22. Banks from emerging markets can only become large modern financial institutions by competing in international markets. FATCA, however, requires these banks to be large modern financial institutions before they can compete in international markets...The developed countries did not have to put up with these burdens while they were developing, it is unjust to force others to take them."
"Now that the benefits of economic growth are finally spreading to non-white (or non-Japanese) areas of the world, the US government is ensuring that a vital part of every country's economy, the banking sector, is reserved for the already developing countries. This protectionist measure may not be racist in intention, but it certainly is in effect."
As for those intergovernmental agreements (IGA's) one could see them as special deals the US is making with its "friends" - the other developed nations. One has only to look at the French IGA to see how the burden has been lightened for this and other European countries. "The rich and established countries are being given a lighter, easier path to dealing with FATCA." Will African, South American or Asian banks get the same deal? We shall see.
FATCA begets GATCA (a term coined by Marvin van Horn). The idea of a worldwide information financial information system has been around for quite awhile. There are other systems in place or in progress that more or less do what FATCA does. The EU, in particular, has what it calls AEOI (automatic exchange of information) and they are expanding it. It is more mature than FATCA (which has yet to be implemented) and the Europeans have chosen a more step-by-step approach. The OECD has also been working on it and has this fine article about how they view the matter.
But they all have the same ultimate objective: to be a model for the rest of the world. I have speculated more than once that the Americans looked at all of this and greatly feared that they would be subject to a system made in the EU and so they decided to float their own system as a counter-offer (if not an outright attempt to do in these efforts in favor of something more favorable to the US). Is this a race to define the model? The story is just beginning and I think there will be much negotiation to come as these competing models bump up against each other and their merits and demerits become clearer. In any case, I would make the point that the idea behind FATCA was not something dreamed up by the United States, but rather something that has been around for awhile now.
Morris touches on the international nature of these efforts: "With FATCA we will set up an international tax regime that will be subject to the interests of those with the most power. For the next few decades, the United States will be the most powerful interest. As all systems do, it will consolidate, and get more powerful. As this process continues, the system created will look more and more like a worldwide empire. The evolution will outlast US dominance."
This is where I would part company with Morris. I am simply not convinced that the final system (and I believe there will be one) will be FATCA. It's not just that there are competing models out there but also the Americans have not exactly shined in their implementation efforts. They have struggled to produce the regulations to make the law a reality. The signing of IGA's has been at a snail's pace and each one is different depending on how well each country was able to negotiate. That doesn't look terribly efficient nor does it scream "model for the rest of the world."
There is also the uncertainty around reciprocity. Americans abroad may not be powerful but Americans banks in the United States are. That foreign banks are subject to FATCA is fine by them - in fact, it gives American banks a competitive advantage. But the suggestion that they might also be required to turn over information to other countries, well, that does not sit well and they have friends in Congress who will help.
Lastly, the agency that has been tasked with actually setting up the infrastructure and administration for FATCA on the US side is one that is not loved and has a very tight budget: the U.S. Internal Revenue Service. On top of last year's scandals, low morale and even further attempts to cut their budget, they have been handed Obamacare (the new US national healthcare system). Oh what a gift.... Reports from the US seem to say that it is not going well.
The Taxpayer Advocate Service (led by the remarkable Nina Olson) has already warned Congress that the IRS today is not funded sufficiently well to adequately serve taxpayers in the homeland, much less those abroad. And now they want to add the rest of the world into the mix, responsibility for a model international tax reporting scheme, while cutting their budget?
Ce n'est pas sérieux.
For the American IRS to do all that they have been asked to do, they need more resources, something that, frankly, I don't see them getting. And how can the IRS possibly justify spending all that money for FATCA (and the foreign governments and institutions that have now become, in a sense, their customers) while American taxpayers (homeland voters) continue to suffer a decline in services? Something has to give here and I don't think it's going to be Congress that suddenly sees the light.
For all those reasons, I think we are not even close to settling on one model for information exchange. I see Morris' assumption that the US will indeed get its way and "dominate" now and in the foreseeable future as wishful thinking and an overestimation of the US government's capacity to efficiently implement their system. I speculate that as FATCA comes up against other contenders, it could very well be subsumed under other, more carefully thought out models - efforts that are better funded, easier to administer, cheaper to roll out, and where the scope has been more carefully defined so that only the truly useful information is captured.
But that is, I admit, pure speculation on my part. Today, no one know for sure where all this going and what GATCA will look like 5 or 10 years down the road. The fat lady has not sung. And that is the one serious bone I have to pick with Morris' otherwise excellent book. I do not agree that the final shape of AEOI as defined by the United States of America is a done deal and I prefer to keep an open mind and watch what unfolds as opposed to "living in the wreckage of the future."
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:
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.
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.
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.
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...
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...
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Flophouse Year in Review
Went to bed in 2013 and woke up in 2014. Not even the youngsters frolicking in the street outside my house last night could disturb my slumber. Rose this morning clear-headed and well-rested. Later today we'll be hosting my mother-in-law for lunch. On the menu is a huge leg of lamb, mashed potatoes and roasted root vegetables (turnips, parsnips, potatoes and carrots). Good wine for the drinkers and Champomy for the non-drinkers (the younger Frenchling and myself).
I thought carefully about my New Year resolutions. From experience, I know that it's unrealistic to aim too high or to have too many. Best to keep it modest and achievable. As I was expanding my vegetable bed last week, the perfect resolution came to me: Less grass. I resolve to remove about 1/3 of the grass in the back garden and replace it with ground-cover, vegetable and flower beds and a soaker system. More pretty, less water. (And after having seen the water bill for last summer, my spouse enthusiastically agreed.)
2013 was quite the year for writing: 219 posts here and several articles published elsewhere with the best writing partner ever, Lynne Swanson of The Maple Sandbox. Just for fun I put together a list of the posts that I enjoyed writing last year and that you seemed to enjoy reading. Here they are and may 2014 bring each and every one of you your heart's desire.
The Sovereign Citizen (January): A review of Patrick Weil's superb book about the making and un-making of American citizens.
Other Ways of Looking at Integration (February): A few thoughts from someone (me) who has lived through the process of integrating into a host country culture. Why it is not nearly as straightforward as the natives might think.
Global Labor Mobility and Taxation (March): "Globalization has forgotten the worker. Scholarship on the tax consequences of globalization emphasizes the movement of capital and corporations, neglecting labor."
(Ruth Mason)
Subservient Citizens and Anarchist Calisthenics (April) Some ideas from one of my favorite political science professors, James C. Scott.
A Day at the European Parliament in Brussels and Public Hearing on FATCA at the European Parliament (May): A post about our trip to Brussels, our lobbying efforts, and what went on at this public hearing.
Lapsed Agnostics and Exile from the 'Land of the Free' (June): The first is about my journey toward sobriety and faith. The second is about homeland efforts to permanently exile American emigrants.
On Being an American (July) "Love where you're from; but bloom where you're planted."
Tales from the Homeland: Seattle Tattoos (August) Got inked again while I was on vacation in Seattle. Extraordinary work from a very talented Seattle tattoo artist.
Portraits of American Women Abroad (September): An extraordinary book about some pretty extraordinary women.
Transplanted Women and the Transmission of Culture (October): Gabrielle Varro's research into American/French families in France and how language, religion and culture are (or are not) passed along to the next generation.
A Liberal Critique of the US, UK and French School Systems (November): My take on The Demands of Liberal Education (a very good read).
Cosmopolitans, Global Citizens and Internationals (December): Speculation about why some developed country migrants prefer these terms to "immigrant/emigrant".
I thought carefully about my New Year resolutions. From experience, I know that it's unrealistic to aim too high or to have too many. Best to keep it modest and achievable. As I was expanding my vegetable bed last week, the perfect resolution came to me: Less grass. I resolve to remove about 1/3 of the grass in the back garden and replace it with ground-cover, vegetable and flower beds and a soaker system. More pretty, less water. (And after having seen the water bill for last summer, my spouse enthusiastically agreed.)
2013 was quite the year for writing: 219 posts here and several articles published elsewhere with the best writing partner ever, Lynne Swanson of The Maple Sandbox. Just for fun I put together a list of the posts that I enjoyed writing last year and that you seemed to enjoy reading. Here they are and may 2014 bring each and every one of you your heart's desire.
The Sovereign Citizen (January): A review of Patrick Weil's superb book about the making and un-making of American citizens.
Other Ways of Looking at Integration (February): A few thoughts from someone (me) who has lived through the process of integrating into a host country culture. Why it is not nearly as straightforward as the natives might think.
Global Labor Mobility and Taxation (March): "Globalization has forgotten the worker. Scholarship on the tax consequences of globalization emphasizes the movement of capital and corporations, neglecting labor."
(Ruth Mason)
Subservient Citizens and Anarchist Calisthenics (April) Some ideas from one of my favorite political science professors, James C. Scott.
A Day at the European Parliament in Brussels and Public Hearing on FATCA at the European Parliament (May): A post about our trip to Brussels, our lobbying efforts, and what went on at this public hearing.
Lapsed Agnostics and Exile from the 'Land of the Free' (June): The first is about my journey toward sobriety and faith. The second is about homeland efforts to permanently exile American emigrants.
On Being an American (July) "Love where you're from; but bloom where you're planted."
Tales from the Homeland: Seattle Tattoos (August) Got inked again while I was on vacation in Seattle. Extraordinary work from a very talented Seattle tattoo artist.
Portraits of American Women Abroad (September): An extraordinary book about some pretty extraordinary women.
Transplanted Women and the Transmission of Culture (October): Gabrielle Varro's research into American/French families in France and how language, religion and culture are (or are not) passed along to the next generation.
A Liberal Critique of the US, UK and French School Systems (November): My take on The Demands of Liberal Education (a very good read).
Cosmopolitans, Global Citizens and Internationals (December): Speculation about why some developed country migrants prefer these terms to "immigrant/emigrant".
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
American Political Expatriates in Mexico
The 1950's were a particularly dark period in American history. Lives, careers, and families were destroyed in the search for the enemy within (Communists and fellow travelers). But not all Americans sat at home waiting to be denounced or for the subpoena or letter informing them that they had lost their livelihoods. Some fled and many went south to America's near abroad, Mexico.
Diana Anhalt has written a fascinating portrait of these political expatriates, a "small group of controversial Americans who found refuge in Mexico during the late 40's and throughout the '50's..." in her book A Gathering of Fugitives: American Political Expatriates in Mexico. She was well placed to write their history; she was a young girl living in New York when her parents, Mike and Belle Zykofsky, uprooted the family and slipped out of the United States in 1950.
The FBI (and it was the FBI not the CIA that kept them under surveillance in Mexico) called them the American Communist Group in Mexico (ACGM), "A loosely knit organization of a prominently social nature of persons who are present and/or past members of the Communist Party of the United States and their friends and associates who share a common sympathy for communism and the Soviet Union."
Anhalt is a bit more precise in her description. They were "former labor leaders, 'undesirable' U.S. resident aliens, the Abraham Lincoln vets, Party organizers, Hollywood activists, and the unfriendly witnesses at Congressional and State hearings. Some were members or former members of the Communist Party; others were not."
Why did they leave? The answer seems obvious and yet, as Anhalt points out, many left before they became subjects of interest (it took the FBI four years to discover that her parents had left the country) and in many of her interviews with American expatriates they declined to cite homeland politics as their reason for leaving the United States. Though the harassment was highly unpleasant and some went to jail or lost their jobs, the repression never turned deadly (there were no camps or executions). Resident aliens had the least amount of protection - the tool of choice used against them was the threat of jail and deportation (Alien Registration Act of 1940). There was a general climate of fear and anyone associated with the Party or leftist groups felt vulnerable and decided to get out while they could:
"Therefore, the opposition, people like my parents, afraid they might lose their jobs or be harassed or detained for having associated with suspect organizations or individuals, fled to Mexico because the deteriorating political climate at home, like the signal lights at a railroad crossing, was a sign of danger."
Some stayed for a short time and returned to the U.S., others used Mexico as a stepping stone to further migration and a third country. Others settled in and here Amhalt's book really shines because she recounts what happened to these sojourners in the years they spent just south of the U.S. border. Like many migrants most had no intention of living there permanently, "We didn't come down to stay. We came down to cool off." Their strategy was to wait out the witch hunts, watch the American political scene closely and to return when/if things got better. For some that day never came and they died in exile.
This attitude was not exactly conducive to integration but such is the power of host country culture that most learned to speak some Spanish and a few became quite fluent. For the most part these American migrants were not rich and had to seek employment or start business ventures in order to survive.
There was another American community in Mexico at that time; a business community for the most part whose politics were on the other side of the American political spectrum: "In time, we would discover we had run straight into the arms of the very people we were running away from: white, middle class, conservative Republicans." Anhalt says that there was a huge divide between the two groups and, in spite of a shared American identity, the only common neutral ground was that both sent their children to American schools.
In no place was this gap between the American business community and these political fugitives more flagrant than in how they were treated by the American authorities in Mexico. The ACGM discovered very quickly that the home country had a long reach. Not only were they under surveillance by the FBI but their access to basic consular services at the American embassy was compromised. Every political expatriate Anhalt talked to had "Embassy stories"or a "Passport/non-Passport story." In some cases their passports were simply revoked, in others the consulate withdrew protection or refused to register the births of their children. When Anhalt's parents tried to do the latter, the Embassy attempted to seize their passports and when they refused to turn them over, "the Embassy reached the conclusion that they could no longer afford the Zykofsky's official protection or registration facilities unless they surrendered their, by then, expired passports and prepared affidavits explaining their alleged Communist activities." The Embassy then informed the Mexican authorities of their decisions, an act that was essentially an invitation for the Mexicans to deport them.
It is not clear from Anhalt's book at which level these policies were decided but it was undoubtedly tied to the McCarran Internal Security Act of 1950 (passed over the objections and veto of President Harry Truman).
Nonetheless, there was still some protection afforded by the Mexican government since the local authorities frowned on direct attacks on their sovereignty. A very few Americans were apprehended (illegally) and sent back to the U.S. but in general, the American government "proceeded with extreme caution when engaged in unauthorized seizures of U.S. citizens on Mexican soil or 'unofficial extraditions,' as they were referred to in police jargon."
The period Anhalt writes about (and one she lived personally) is from 1948 to 1965. Ancient history, some might say, or just a bad period that Americans at home and abroad lived through and learned from. I'm not so sure. In a post-911 world were there Americans who left the country for political reasons but did so with such discretion that we will never know them or their motivations? In historical context, laws like the Patriot Act seem frighteningly familiar. Under every discussion Americans abroad have with the homeland is a request on their, or an offering up on our side, of the reasons why we chose to live outside the U.S. And we all know that there are things to say that will establish us as "legitimate" expatriates in their eyes, and there are things not to say lest we rouse their ire. The U.S. government's reach is still long and they hold both the keys to our ever being allowed to return, and control over the breeder documents that allow us to be legal residents elsewhere.
And lastly, it's worth noting that at that time Anhalt writes about, there was very little support or sympathy from the homeland public for these people. They were described as undesirable, un-American individuals - rich dissident creatives or former ungrateful troublesome immigrants living it up on the beaches of Mexico. Am I being too sensitive when I say that the rhetoric about America's emigrants has not exactly improved in the last 60 years? What we hear in the American media today about us would seem to confirm that analysis. There is still something very un-American about us and the only difference now is that they have a new reason for suspecting our motives (which are still assumed to be nefarious until proven otherwise).
Anhalt's words and her research deserve our attention because I believe there are lessons to be gleaned from them that are as relevant today as they were decades ago. And it's a damn fine read to boot.
Diana Anhalt has written a fascinating portrait of these political expatriates, a "small group of controversial Americans who found refuge in Mexico during the late 40's and throughout the '50's..." in her book A Gathering of Fugitives: American Political Expatriates in Mexico. She was well placed to write their history; she was a young girl living in New York when her parents, Mike and Belle Zykofsky, uprooted the family and slipped out of the United States in 1950.
The FBI (and it was the FBI not the CIA that kept them under surveillance in Mexico) called them the American Communist Group in Mexico (ACGM), "A loosely knit organization of a prominently social nature of persons who are present and/or past members of the Communist Party of the United States and their friends and associates who share a common sympathy for communism and the Soviet Union."
Anhalt is a bit more precise in her description. They were "former labor leaders, 'undesirable' U.S. resident aliens, the Abraham Lincoln vets, Party organizers, Hollywood activists, and the unfriendly witnesses at Congressional and State hearings. Some were members or former members of the Communist Party; others were not."
Why did they leave? The answer seems obvious and yet, as Anhalt points out, many left before they became subjects of interest (it took the FBI four years to discover that her parents had left the country) and in many of her interviews with American expatriates they declined to cite homeland politics as their reason for leaving the United States. Though the harassment was highly unpleasant and some went to jail or lost their jobs, the repression never turned deadly (there were no camps or executions). Resident aliens had the least amount of protection - the tool of choice used against them was the threat of jail and deportation (Alien Registration Act of 1940). There was a general climate of fear and anyone associated with the Party or leftist groups felt vulnerable and decided to get out while they could:
"Therefore, the opposition, people like my parents, afraid they might lose their jobs or be harassed or detained for having associated with suspect organizations or individuals, fled to Mexico because the deteriorating political climate at home, like the signal lights at a railroad crossing, was a sign of danger."
Some stayed for a short time and returned to the U.S., others used Mexico as a stepping stone to further migration and a third country. Others settled in and here Amhalt's book really shines because she recounts what happened to these sojourners in the years they spent just south of the U.S. border. Like many migrants most had no intention of living there permanently, "We didn't come down to stay. We came down to cool off." Their strategy was to wait out the witch hunts, watch the American political scene closely and to return when/if things got better. For some that day never came and they died in exile.
This attitude was not exactly conducive to integration but such is the power of host country culture that most learned to speak some Spanish and a few became quite fluent. For the most part these American migrants were not rich and had to seek employment or start business ventures in order to survive.
There was another American community in Mexico at that time; a business community for the most part whose politics were on the other side of the American political spectrum: "In time, we would discover we had run straight into the arms of the very people we were running away from: white, middle class, conservative Republicans." Anhalt says that there was a huge divide between the two groups and, in spite of a shared American identity, the only common neutral ground was that both sent their children to American schools.
In no place was this gap between the American business community and these political fugitives more flagrant than in how they were treated by the American authorities in Mexico. The ACGM discovered very quickly that the home country had a long reach. Not only were they under surveillance by the FBI but their access to basic consular services at the American embassy was compromised. Every political expatriate Anhalt talked to had "Embassy stories"or a "Passport/non-Passport story." In some cases their passports were simply revoked, in others the consulate withdrew protection or refused to register the births of their children. When Anhalt's parents tried to do the latter, the Embassy attempted to seize their passports and when they refused to turn them over, "the Embassy reached the conclusion that they could no longer afford the Zykofsky's official protection or registration facilities unless they surrendered their, by then, expired passports and prepared affidavits explaining their alleged Communist activities." The Embassy then informed the Mexican authorities of their decisions, an act that was essentially an invitation for the Mexicans to deport them.
It is not clear from Anhalt's book at which level these policies were decided but it was undoubtedly tied to the McCarran Internal Security Act of 1950 (passed over the objections and veto of President Harry Truman).
Nonetheless, there was still some protection afforded by the Mexican government since the local authorities frowned on direct attacks on their sovereignty. A very few Americans were apprehended (illegally) and sent back to the U.S. but in general, the American government "proceeded with extreme caution when engaged in unauthorized seizures of U.S. citizens on Mexican soil or 'unofficial extraditions,' as they were referred to in police jargon."
The period Anhalt writes about (and one she lived personally) is from 1948 to 1965. Ancient history, some might say, or just a bad period that Americans at home and abroad lived through and learned from. I'm not so sure. In a post-911 world were there Americans who left the country for political reasons but did so with such discretion that we will never know them or their motivations? In historical context, laws like the Patriot Act seem frighteningly familiar. Under every discussion Americans abroad have with the homeland is a request on their, or an offering up on our side, of the reasons why we chose to live outside the U.S. And we all know that there are things to say that will establish us as "legitimate" expatriates in their eyes, and there are things not to say lest we rouse their ire. The U.S. government's reach is still long and they hold both the keys to our ever being allowed to return, and control over the breeder documents that allow us to be legal residents elsewhere.
And lastly, it's worth noting that at that time Anhalt writes about, there was very little support or sympathy from the homeland public for these people. They were described as undesirable, un-American individuals - rich dissident creatives or former ungrateful troublesome immigrants living it up on the beaches of Mexico. Am I being too sensitive when I say that the rhetoric about America's emigrants has not exactly improved in the last 60 years? What we hear in the American media today about us would seem to confirm that analysis. There is still something very un-American about us and the only difference now is that they have a new reason for suspecting our motives (which are still assumed to be nefarious until proven otherwise).
Anhalt's words and her research deserve our attention because I believe there are lessons to be gleaned from them that are as relevant today as they were decades ago. And it's a damn fine read to boot.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Some Citizenship Trends
Peter Spiro, author of one of my favorite citizenship books, Beyond Citizenship: American Identity After Globalization has published this article in Opinio Juris: Citizenship Round-Up: Nine Trends from 2013.
Yes, he talks about the rising number of Americans turning in their U.S. passports, but that is not all that is going on in the world of citizenship. Some very interesting trends concerning dual nationality, denizens versus citizens, and the extension of jus sanguinas citizenship laws.
Yes, he talks about the rising number of Americans turning in their U.S. passports, but that is not all that is going on in the world of citizenship. Some very interesting trends concerning dual nationality, denizens versus citizens, and the extension of jus sanguinas citizenship laws.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
The Lost Generation
It is cold and clear here the day after Christmas. Sunny and dry enough, in fact, to finish the fall cleanup in the garden this afternoon. But waking up to a chill in the air (which aggravates the arthritis) and then realizing that if one wishes a warm house, there is work to be done - clearing out the old ashes, gathering kindling, bringing in enough wood to fill the basket, nursing the fire from small embers to a roaring blaze - is not always pleasant even for someone as matinale as myself.
As I get older the list of things necessary for a modicum of comfort in the morning grows ever longer. It used to be just coffee. Two cups of coffee and I could face anything. Now it's coffee, aspirin, breakfast, movement to loosen up and a warm fire. I'm struggling to find the optimal order of things in my new routine. Do I eat first so I can take my analgesics so I can make a fire without feeling like my hips are about to give out? Or do I make a fire first so that when I sit down for breakfast, the ambient temperature in the dining room is sufficiently warm so that I feel content and comfortable as I put enough food in my stomach to tolerate the painkillers?
In any case there is a lot of grumbling that goes along with my morning ritual. I used to jokingly tell people that my highest aspiration was to be "old, evil and rich." Now I know that old is inevitable, rich is over-rated and evil is too damn much work.
Speaking of work, last night I finished up a very good book called Writing the Lost Generation: Expatriate Biography and American Modernism by Craig Monk. All those late 20th century books that I have read about Americans in Paris (the ones that I refer to as "fairy tales") have a long pedigree. Americans have been coming to France and writing about it since the days of Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) and James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851). But the ghosts that haunt today's Americans abroad in France (and perhaps, by extension, all Americans living outside the U.S.) came in the period between the two World Wars (the 1920's and 30's).
They were called "The Lost Generation" - a term I think was coined by Gertrude Stein. These were the days of mass exodus from the United States by people we would refer to today as "creatives": poets, writers, artists, singers, actors, and the like. Their departure and behaviour in the French capital was controversial. They were admired by some homelanders, vilified by others. Some were wildly successful and became cultural icons like Ernest Hemingway or F. Scott Fitzgerald. Others returned home broke and broken. A few never came home at all like Stein who died in Neuilly-sur-Seine in 1946.
I read many of their works in high school and at university. A few I picked up later when I was no longer a captive of someone else's curriculum and the one I liked the best was Henry Miller who wrote The Tropic of Cancer and Under the Roofs of Paris which was pure pornography albeit well-written eroticism.
Writing the Lost Generation was the first book I ever read that put these writers side by side and tried to make sense of them as expatriate writers. What were they looking for when they left the U.S.? What happened to them? How did they relate to other Americans trying to live the same experience? Why did so many of them feel compelled to write autobiographies? From where came this "persistent desire of expatriate Americans to chronicle their experiences abroad"? And why is the "American in Paris/France" autobiography still so damn popular; this theme enjoys commercial success in the homeland even today. To follow in the footsteps of the "Lost Generation" still confers cultural capital.
One thing seems clear to me - the American writers of the early 20th century were pulled, not pushed, to Europe, though many claimed the latter and they sure succeeded in offending some homelanders with their criticisms of life in the U.S. and their behaviour once they arrived. Still, some tried to mitigate their words by assuring their audience that they were still Americans and would always be Americans wherever they lived and however long they stayed abroad. (Does that sound familiar?) Their goal was certainly not integration/assimilation. They lived in what I think is fair to call a colony, and few went outside Paris to visit other parts of France.
It was being in Paris that changed them, they seemed to be saying, not necessarily the French. The freedom of life in a big old city, contact with other creatives from the U.S. and other countries and, frankly, an escape from the tyranny of homeland expectations about reliable employment and "making a living" were all very attractive to them. There was (is) also, I contend, an environment here in France where an artist has honor even if he or she is struggling. "Why," one author complained at the time, "was there, in America, no satisfying career open to talent?"
For better or worse, the expatriates were noticed and named and much ink was spilt on both sides of the Atlantic to explain what they were doing "over here/there." Opinions varied. Were they daring avant-garde escapees from "oppression"? Or were they Americans who had "abandoned their 'moral bearings' once in Europe and estranged themselves from traditional principles"?
In all movements there is a struggle over definition and members past and present feel compelled to write the history, to capture what it all means, not just for themselves but for everyone else who had lived the same experience. Monk shows that there was this and more in the expatriate autobiographies that came out of that period. Some of it was clearly an attempt to define this thing called "The Lost Generation", the "American in Paris," the "Expatriate American." Taken together, the writers of this period paint a picture of an intellectually stimulating, cultured, hedonistic life in "Gay Paree" and many became famous in the American homeland and that led to commercial success. "With their vivid memories of life in Paris, a wide variety of expatriates received attention from publishers in England and the United States, providing an audience the size of which was unprecedented for many of them." No wonder that others tried to ride the wave. That provoked a reaction from the "oldtimers" who then wrote works in response to revise the record and protect the "brand."
Today their works are standard fare in classrooms all over the United States and every American emigrant has surely been influenced by their words long before he or she cast himself upon a distant shore. This is the path already taken though destinations have changed. Pew reports that the American communities in Europe have lost population while Asia and Latin America/Carribean have gained. In the individual's search for authenticity and experience, there may be more romance, and a different kind of cultural capital, to be had in Belize or Kyoto than in Paris or London.
But wherever Americans are landing these days the old self-conscious impulse to chronicle one's experience (conversion?) is still there. Autobiographies abound and even Paris still sells. I am reading more and more of them these days in my quest to produce a decent American Diaspora reading list.
As I read, however, I am more and more aware of the limitations of these personal accounts. Two things about them disturb me: They are all too often written as though the authors' lives and experiences were entirely unique (as though nothing came before they sat their precious selves down in that Paris apartment). There is so little in them that ties the past to the present or recognizes that a few million of their compatriots are on the very same train, seeking their own individual conversion experience.
The second is that each attempt (however the authors strenuously insist that this is simply their own distinctive and isolated experience) does shape our impressions of other Americans abroad and the homeland's view of us as a group. There are persistent negative and positive stereotypes of Americans living abroad, some of which I think can be traced back to the Lost Generation, that are confirmed by these popular self portraits. It is as if there was a record playing "Americans Abroad" on an antique gramophone back in the homeland and there are grooves worn down by the needle that sing: "escape", "freedom", "cosmopolitan," "unpatriotic," "selfish."
And from time to time some homeland interest picks the needle up and puts the last two on continuous replay.
It does not follow from this that we should stop writing about our experiences. Rather it is a call for some awareness of ourselves as part of something larger. There is a past here that most of us know very little about that makes the present. We did not arrive here entirely by chance. As long as we think of and write about ourselves as atomized individuals we can still be attacked as the community we deny that we are, and, as a result, we will have few effective means of defense. We need to know our own history and we need facts to counter some of the more egregious arguments and ugly stereotypes being used against us.
Above all, I think we need to acquire a loose sense of solidarity. This does not mean that we form a herd and give up our cherished individualism and independence. It just means a little more self-knowledge and a recognition that we have common experiences and, most importantly, a few common interests whether we live in Sao Paulo or Shanghai.
Or we can simply revive what Monk says was the original meaning of the word expatriate in 1920's American English: "someone who had permanently abandoned the United States."
As I get older the list of things necessary for a modicum of comfort in the morning grows ever longer. It used to be just coffee. Two cups of coffee and I could face anything. Now it's coffee, aspirin, breakfast, movement to loosen up and a warm fire. I'm struggling to find the optimal order of things in my new routine. Do I eat first so I can take my analgesics so I can make a fire without feeling like my hips are about to give out? Or do I make a fire first so that when I sit down for breakfast, the ambient temperature in the dining room is sufficiently warm so that I feel content and comfortable as I put enough food in my stomach to tolerate the painkillers?
In any case there is a lot of grumbling that goes along with my morning ritual. I used to jokingly tell people that my highest aspiration was to be "old, evil and rich." Now I know that old is inevitable, rich is over-rated and evil is too damn much work.
Speaking of work, last night I finished up a very good book called Writing the Lost Generation: Expatriate Biography and American Modernism by Craig Monk. All those late 20th century books that I have read about Americans in Paris (the ones that I refer to as "fairy tales") have a long pedigree. Americans have been coming to France and writing about it since the days of Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) and James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851). But the ghosts that haunt today's Americans abroad in France (and perhaps, by extension, all Americans living outside the U.S.) came in the period between the two World Wars (the 1920's and 30's).
They were called "The Lost Generation" - a term I think was coined by Gertrude Stein. These were the days of mass exodus from the United States by people we would refer to today as "creatives": poets, writers, artists, singers, actors, and the like. Their departure and behaviour in the French capital was controversial. They were admired by some homelanders, vilified by others. Some were wildly successful and became cultural icons like Ernest Hemingway or F. Scott Fitzgerald. Others returned home broke and broken. A few never came home at all like Stein who died in Neuilly-sur-Seine in 1946.
I read many of their works in high school and at university. A few I picked up later when I was no longer a captive of someone else's curriculum and the one I liked the best was Henry Miller who wrote The Tropic of Cancer and Under the Roofs of Paris which was pure pornography albeit well-written eroticism.
Writing the Lost Generation was the first book I ever read that put these writers side by side and tried to make sense of them as expatriate writers. What were they looking for when they left the U.S.? What happened to them? How did they relate to other Americans trying to live the same experience? Why did so many of them feel compelled to write autobiographies? From where came this "persistent desire of expatriate Americans to chronicle their experiences abroad"? And why is the "American in Paris/France" autobiography still so damn popular; this theme enjoys commercial success in the homeland even today. To follow in the footsteps of the "Lost Generation" still confers cultural capital.
One thing seems clear to me - the American writers of the early 20th century were pulled, not pushed, to Europe, though many claimed the latter and they sure succeeded in offending some homelanders with their criticisms of life in the U.S. and their behaviour once they arrived. Still, some tried to mitigate their words by assuring their audience that they were still Americans and would always be Americans wherever they lived and however long they stayed abroad. (Does that sound familiar?) Their goal was certainly not integration/assimilation. They lived in what I think is fair to call a colony, and few went outside Paris to visit other parts of France.
It was being in Paris that changed them, they seemed to be saying, not necessarily the French. The freedom of life in a big old city, contact with other creatives from the U.S. and other countries and, frankly, an escape from the tyranny of homeland expectations about reliable employment and "making a living" were all very attractive to them. There was (is) also, I contend, an environment here in France where an artist has honor even if he or she is struggling. "Why," one author complained at the time, "was there, in America, no satisfying career open to talent?"
For better or worse, the expatriates were noticed and named and much ink was spilt on both sides of the Atlantic to explain what they were doing "over here/there." Opinions varied. Were they daring avant-garde escapees from "oppression"? Or were they Americans who had "abandoned their 'moral bearings' once in Europe and estranged themselves from traditional principles"?
In all movements there is a struggle over definition and members past and present feel compelled to write the history, to capture what it all means, not just for themselves but for everyone else who had lived the same experience. Monk shows that there was this and more in the expatriate autobiographies that came out of that period. Some of it was clearly an attempt to define this thing called "The Lost Generation", the "American in Paris," the "Expatriate American." Taken together, the writers of this period paint a picture of an intellectually stimulating, cultured, hedonistic life in "Gay Paree" and many became famous in the American homeland and that led to commercial success. "With their vivid memories of life in Paris, a wide variety of expatriates received attention from publishers in England and the United States, providing an audience the size of which was unprecedented for many of them." No wonder that others tried to ride the wave. That provoked a reaction from the "oldtimers" who then wrote works in response to revise the record and protect the "brand."
Today their works are standard fare in classrooms all over the United States and every American emigrant has surely been influenced by their words long before he or she cast himself upon a distant shore. This is the path already taken though destinations have changed. Pew reports that the American communities in Europe have lost population while Asia and Latin America/Carribean have gained. In the individual's search for authenticity and experience, there may be more romance, and a different kind of cultural capital, to be had in Belize or Kyoto than in Paris or London.
But wherever Americans are landing these days the old self-conscious impulse to chronicle one's experience (conversion?) is still there. Autobiographies abound and even Paris still sells. I am reading more and more of them these days in my quest to produce a decent American Diaspora reading list.
As I read, however, I am more and more aware of the limitations of these personal accounts. Two things about them disturb me: They are all too often written as though the authors' lives and experiences were entirely unique (as though nothing came before they sat their precious selves down in that Paris apartment). There is so little in them that ties the past to the present or recognizes that a few million of their compatriots are on the very same train, seeking their own individual conversion experience.
The second is that each attempt (however the authors strenuously insist that this is simply their own distinctive and isolated experience) does shape our impressions of other Americans abroad and the homeland's view of us as a group. There are persistent negative and positive stereotypes of Americans living abroad, some of which I think can be traced back to the Lost Generation, that are confirmed by these popular self portraits. It is as if there was a record playing "Americans Abroad" on an antique gramophone back in the homeland and there are grooves worn down by the needle that sing: "escape", "freedom", "cosmopolitan," "unpatriotic," "selfish."
And from time to time some homeland interest picks the needle up and puts the last two on continuous replay.
It does not follow from this that we should stop writing about our experiences. Rather it is a call for some awareness of ourselves as part of something larger. There is a past here that most of us know very little about that makes the present. We did not arrive here entirely by chance. As long as we think of and write about ourselves as atomized individuals we can still be attacked as the community we deny that we are, and, as a result, we will have few effective means of defense. We need to know our own history and we need facts to counter some of the more egregious arguments and ugly stereotypes being used against us.
Above all, I think we need to acquire a loose sense of solidarity. This does not mean that we form a herd and give up our cherished individualism and independence. It just means a little more self-knowledge and a recognition that we have common experiences and, most importantly, a few common interests whether we live in Sao Paulo or Shanghai.
Or we can simply revive what Monk says was the original meaning of the word expatriate in 1920's American English: "someone who had permanently abandoned the United States."
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