Is this what it feels like to be a Republican or a Democrat?
Brexit’s outcome is testing my resilience.
I’ve always found the divide between Republicans and Democrats in the USA absolutely fascinating. From a distance, it outstands me how political views can transcend into ways of life. That, choosing to be a Republican or a Democrat defines who you are, and who you might interact with. “Our family is Republican”, I might hear.
Pew Research Centre reports that discontent between party supporters has surged over the past two decades — “a deep seated dislike, bordering on Sense of Alarm”. Whilst I empathise with this kind of attitude, I’ve always taken a more easy-going approach. At the end of the day, everyone is trying to work towards what they feel is best.
Of course, the majority of people in USA aren’t so polar, and the phenomenon exists all around the world. What really amazes in general me is partisanship: when people compromise their own beliefs, political slant and principles in favour of a single-minded party. All this whilst disacknowledging anyone who doesn’t align with their own view.
For me on the other hand, despite ‘losing’ the last bunch of major elections, I got over it pretty fast. I take comfort in the fact that whilst my neighbour might have a different political opinion, at least we can agree that all the candidates are dicks. But this time, it’s different.
This time, I can’t shake that it was ‘logical’ vs ‘emotional’.
You’ve probably all heard by now the outcome of Brexit in the UK. Collectively, we have voted to leave Europe. I wish I had a great soundbite like “I woke up shocked” or “I awoke to a new world”, but the truth is I stayed up and agonisingly watched through the night, as the Sterling tumbled. I watched the shock of Sunderland, and held onto some deluded hope all the way into the morning.
But it’s over now. Democracy has spoken. And the people have ripped a part of my identity away from me. 52% of the population have changed the course of the rest of my life. I reflect over the time I spent studying in Germany, all the trips I’ve made around Europe, the international companies I’ve worked for and how nothing will be quite the same again. Not in the next few years as the economic uncertainly impacts jobs and our economy. Not for me, not for my children.
This wasn’t my choice.
It was the choice of the deluded. The xenophobic. The ignorant. The anti-intellectualists:
It’s us vs them. None of them seem to understand. Like the old fumbling on their iPads, ruining our generation like always. And then there’s my own generational peers, who don’t even bother turning up to vote and complain afterwards.
I read about the hypocrisy over Cornwall pleading to the government to match their EU funding. And another idea sparks into my head: I no longer want to support the the places that took away my identity. Fuck Cornwall, I’m never going there. Why should I support the people who’ve done this. In fact, I’m only going to visit Manchester, or Liverpool, or one of the rational cities.
While I’m at it, perhaps I should move to Scotland altogether. Or maybe further afield. I certainly don’t belong alongside the rest of England. Before you know it, they’ll be telling me to “go home”, wherever that is.
And so slowly, I find myself descending into the abyss of narcissism and elitism that only divides us further. How did it come to this?
I’ll find myself again. And realise there are deep-seated issues among class, generations, race and religion within the UK. People have had it much worse than I have in this austerity-ridden terror. The steel workers have their whole world in the balance right now. Half the population aren’t “stupid”. Painting broad brush strokes of the people who don’t agree with you is the easy way out. I hope I can pick myself up again and be the person I know myself to be. I just don’t know how many more bruises I can take.
