Post Brexit musings from a European Citizen
So I have survived Brexit. So far. I went to bed at 10.30 after too much wine and woke up the next morning when it was done. But of course it is not done, not by any stretch of the imagination. Nigel partied, Boris stayed at home but the faultlines will begin to show in the next few weeks.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I am Dutch, married to an Irishman and living in Scotland. The Freedom of Movement gave him the opportunity to stay in the Netherlands and gave me the opportunity to live and work here. Ours is truly a European Union.
We met at Manchester Airport when I brought over a party of Hungarian enterprise consultants. My office had obtained money from the European Union to assist people and organisations from the former Eastern Block to help the transition to a market economy. Our programme was a series of meetings with enterprise organisations in the Netherlands followed by a trip to Liverpool to do the same.
It was not an easy group of people. Not many spoke English so we had an interpreter with us. Many were still suspicious of authority - when at Schiphol Airport we had to check -in at a different desk they got very nervous - it was only because it was a group check-in but it gave me a unique insight.
On the other side, at Manchester Airport stood this man with a note. And that was it. He told me later that it was Love at First Sight but because I had been introduced as Mrs he couldn't entertain the thought. In my language we don't have a Ms form... I had spoken on the phone and was very taken by his voice. I didn't know then that it was the Irish accent, ever so softly coming through.
Anyway, we had visits and a Chinese Banquet - I nearly killed myself laughing when a drunk Liverpudlian attempted a conversation with a non- English speaking Hungarian- they got on surprisingly well. I had to leave before the visit was over but this man sent me one of the souvenirs he had bought for all the participants on the trip. I phoned him to thank him. That voice again...
The next time we met was on Sicily - of all places. It gave me a reason to hear that voice again. Sicily in the shoulder season was gorgeous. We stayed in a hotel with beautiful tiled floors and we worked hard and partied hard. It was only weeks after the attack on the Falcone, the anti-mafia judge. We could see the hole in the road. Also in the hotel was a squadron of policemen from the North. They couldn't trust those from the south as their families could have been put under pressure. These guys - big and bulky with interesting moustaches - were eyeing up the female participants of the conference. Nae chance, mate!
When the mayor of Palermo came to give his address it was a little scary to see my future husband (we didn't know it yet) and the mayor being flanked by a number of heavy-duty security guys with heavy-duty ironwork. Nothing happened fortunately. That evening a large group of us went to the nearest village and we drank wine and sang songs deep into the night. On occasions like that it never felt like we were from different countries. We were there for a common purpose and from a commom territory.
Anyway, the big day came when husband to be and I met each other in Bratislava for yet another European project. It became clear during that weekend that we would like see each other a little more often - which is not easy living in different countries. The solution - after a year of getting off the plane from Vienna to get on the plane to Manchester the next day - was that the two of us would be living and working in St. Petersburg. Which was an adventure and I will write more on this at a later date. After that, we lived in Amsterdam for a year and raised our son, before moving to Scotland to raise our son and our daughter. Freedom of Movement gave us the opportunity to do so, with minimal fuss and little effort.
That will now all be over in a year. Xenophobia and racism have won; the right - in particular the alt right - has become mainstream. All the optimism, friendship, easy going relationships between people of different countries will maybe not be over, but will certainly not happen as naturally anymore between a Brit and another European as it used to do. Europeans in the UK face an uncertain future. Many feel alienated, in limbo, have nightmares (like I did and do) and have mental health problems. We all have to get 'settled status' to stay living in the home we have lived in for years, sometimes all our lives.
I have had my own personal fight to be able to stay in my home of 20 years. After yet another night of nightmares and broken sleep I thought I would start the process - maybe the relative certainty of Settled Status would help me sleep. Crying all through the process - the uploading of my photo and the biometric data on my passport - it was actually surprisingly easy and smooth. Till the first rejection from the Home Office came in my inbox. 'Our automated checks did not confirm your residency in the UK'. What do you mean? I have had three jobs, did two degrees and have had a shop in this country for eight years. WTF do you mean you can't find any evidence? Incompetent idiots!
I got it in the end but only because I kept my wits and didn't panic. That is to say, I didn't panic to the extent of becoming paralysed. My son and his partner have had a fight with the Home Office as well. However, it is clear to me and to fellow Europeans that the words of the Prime Minister: 'You are our friends, our colleagues, our partners, we want you to stay' are utterly and totally hollow. Maybe, just maybe he means it - but the mechanisms to deal with foreign citizens are based on distrust and the will to keep those bloody foreigners out.
And that is what has become of the country that prides itself on being tolerant, outward-looking and modern. The xenophobes have won. For now.
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Thank you! Be your nose a pointer for your brain! (OED)