zondag 3 juni 2012

An Advocate of the Devil

I live in a bit of a dilemma as an American in Belgium. On the one hand, I am supposed to somehow fit into a slotted role of the ex-patriate, a role that I have flat-out avoided and refused to embrace, and then on the other, I should be respectful of the culture in which I chose to be a part of, for better or worse. In some ways, I have failed at both horns of this dilemma in that I neither subscribe to being the American abroad, nor do I fully respect what I see here, though would rather offer an informed and somewhat scathing critique, something I have held back in doing, out of some outmoded form of gentlemanly respect. In other words, I chose to be here, and though at some level I am "stuck" here now because of life's choices and events, I am wearing thin of the veiled decency that we view other cultures with and with which they view us.

This is a problem for me.

Why? Why should I not just unleash vitriolic venom on what I see being "wrong" with Belgium, and consequently my cultural surrogacy that I have acquired being a father to a half-American, half-Belgian daughter, thus securing my ties to this country for the rest of my life?

There are many reasons why this is a problem, and I have been trying to sort through them of late, and I find myself wanting.

In the first place, my daughter is also part of this country, and with genetics, we all inherit, like it or not, certain characteristics of our ancestors. And, this can go back many generations, not just to the immediate one that I am American and her mother is Belgian (and some would correct me here and say: Flemish). But, even further, my own background goes back to German, Scottish, and perhaps English. My ex-wife's lineage is not entirely clear and my suspicions is possible somewhat southern mediterranean, even Greek. Though, that is speculation, but nonetheless, my daughter is a mixture of several cultures, and I feel that it is incumbent upon me to help her to see the best of all of the worlds that she is coming from, even if I don't agree with them.

This is the first level of the challenge, to go beyond my own issues and potentially negative responses and observations about living in Belgium, so I want to stay positive for her sake, and I will, but I will also remain realistic about the good and bad of both being American and Belgian (Flemish, European, Northern European).

However, a few years ago, I was also designated as a Fulbright visiting professor to the Universiteit Antwerpen. Part of my charge as a Fulbright is to both be an ambassador of my own culture as well as a conduit for the culture that I am in to help bridge any differences on a level of cultural, social and educational discrepancies. I have tried to fulfill this charge whenever I am in Belgium, back in America or even in a third location such as India or Italy, or wherever.

But, when we put our best foot forward, put on our best face, or dress up in the Easter-Sunday garb of being such an ambassador, I fear that there is a disjunct between reality and dress up.

What does it mean to be a representative of one's country? I don't envy my President, Mr. Obama, nor any of his predecessors because what does it really mean to represent an entire country, especially one on the level and magnitude of the USA?

I've reflected quite a bit on the details of whom I have been and what I have "represented" as being an American abroad here in Belgium, though also in Italy, India and the numerous other countries I have visited in my years alive on this planet, and I have done the best that I could, despite being che brutta figura at times, or merely a bumbling American. The flip side is that it is not always easy and definitely not a bad thing to be American, but it does bring out the devil's advocate at times on both sides of the equation. It's in the details.

To be continued....

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