On feeling stateless

By Fiona Czerniawska.

I never knew how much I loved my country till I became ashamed of it.

I cannot say I come from Great Britain anymore, because we have not been great-hearted. The vote to leave was just the latest example of a chronic failure to engage with the challenges of globalisation even while we benefited from it. We’ve enjoyed the advantages of peace and economic growth but shied away from the responsibility it brought.

I cannot say I come from the United Kingdom, because we are not united anymore. And I’m not talking here about whether Scotland and Northern Ireland stay or go, but of the deep divisions in values that the Brexit vote means we can no longer ignore. Yes, there was a correlation between those who voted to leave and age, poverty and low educational attainment, but "the facts tell a different story,” wrote the Fabian Society’s Eric Kauffman. “Culture and personality, not material circumstances, separate Leave and Remain voters. This is not a class conflict so much as a values divide that cuts across lines of age, income, education and even party.” Opinions about whether we should bring back the death penalty are better indicators of a Leave or Remain vote than income.

I cannot say I am from Europe, because Europe increasingly and understandably seems to be saying it does not want me. I represent a diseased limb, and the best strategy is to lop me off before the contagion spreads.

I will not say I am from England because that is to admit that my world, my son’s world, has shrunk so much. It would be to ally myself to people whose values – Brexit and capital punishment – are so decidedly not ones I share.

I am living on a small island that’s cut itself off the world, but I don’t have a home.