“The 21st Century is all about individualism and freedom”

“Freedom” is a term we hear and use profusely, and it has an a priori positive connotation. The term “individualism”, on the other hand, is more loaded. In Lech Wałęsa’s quote above, he refers to individualism in the positive sense, and in opposition to the harsh measures with which communist rulers suppressed all individual initiatives behind the iron curtain. But this quote reminded me of a recent discussion I had with friends about how isolated and disconnected we feel in most western societies. Even though the standards of living are decidedly higher in the West, we felt that in many ways, the quality of life is higher in the east or the south, and that this was mainly due to the element of community. Regardless of our individual personalities, we all need a community, and when it is absent, we seek it wherever we can find it – even if it is an unhealthy one (e.g. cults, a toxic workplace environment, fanatic religious or extreme political groups).

*Taken from the piece “She Painting” by Tijana Djapovic (c)*

In our supposedly more evolved societies, we rely on the System to take care of our sick, our poor, our elderly. This relatively well-functioning System has unburdened the individual, and has thus allowed us to focus on looking after ourselves – “Looking after Number One”. As I already mentioned in my previous post about the self-help industry, I have noticed a growing trend encouraging us to look within, rather than around us, for solutions to problems and for comfort. I am not entirely opposed to this, as I am introspective by nature and I believe in changing yourself to change a situation’s outcome – or at least your perception of it. But whereas I like the (somewhat overused) quote “Be the change you want to see in the world,” because it inspires taking action and responsibility, it seems to reflect too much of what we now strive for. It is solely focused on individual action and it lacks an addendum, such as the motto: “Unity is strength“.

We are no longer encouraged to unite, to take care of each other. There are countless articles about the mental health crisis, and we are looking to AI to solve this issue (as is explained in this article of the New Yorker), rather than dealing with the root cause of the problem. Instead of focusing on the role played by infoxication, by anxiety-inducing media, or by inequalities, we individualise the problem and isolate the persons suffering. A dismemberment of our communities, which came with industrialisation, also played a significant part in this. Our nuclear families struggle to provide the support system our kids would need to feel that they are not alone. Meanwhile, the parents are dealing with their mental health issues as they try to be the best version of themselves, both at work and at home. This is still especially the case for mothers, who are expected to be successful at work, while being caring and responsible moms, loving wives, and looking like they did in their twenties. Our family structure no longer teaches our young about all of life’s seasons, as they did when households were shared by multiple generations, as in the village I mentioned in my post about interconnectedness.

Going back to the title quote, what we have gained through the individualisation of our societies is indeed much freedom. But there are many kinds of freedom, and they all come at a price. In her short book “Freedom“, Margaret Atwood writes:

“We’re always talking about it, this ‘freedom’. But what do we mean by it? ‘There is more than one kind of freedom (…) Freedom to and freedom from. In the days of anarchy, it was freedom to. Now you are being given freedom from.’ (…) The robin redbreast is safer in the cage: it won’t get eaten by cats or smash into windows. It will have lots to eat. But it will also not be able to fly wherever it likes.”
“Freedom” by Margaret Atwood (Penguin Books, 2018)

Over the last century, we have gained the freedom to study and do the job we want, to live alone or with whomever we want, to dress and speak as we want, go where we want, do what we want. But as we well know, what we want is not always what we need or what is best for us. Living as part of a community requires compromise and limitations to our individual freedom. But in return, it gives us support and solidarity.

Isolation is on the rise, and for people who, like myself, need to communicate, we are more and more dependent on mobile devices to keep these connections alive. As Michael McIntyre reminds us in his stand-up comedy ‘Big Show’, “it wasn’t so long ago (…) we used to not have mobile phones.” He goes on to parody how it would have been if we had, then, been unwilling to leave our house without a phone, maps, photo albums, music records, encyclopaedia, boardgames, as is the case today.

Taken from Michael McIntyre’s “Big Show”

We are dependent on our mobile devices for everything, including communication. Thus, we each walk through life as in a bubble, constantly in touch with our online community, but away from the persons standing next to us. And though some might argue that this critical view of our new reality is generational, I have been hearing similar echoes from young people. The twenty-something British blogger Charly Cox wrote a collection of poetry exclusively on her phone, “Validate me: A life of code-dependency“. In it, she explores how a life lived online liberates us whilst messing us up. In it, she shares her experience of becoming estranged from others and even, at times, from herself. Cox writes about longing for old-fashioned encounters, as opposed to meeting via apps, and about about becoming so used to being identified as her online persona, that she feels like a fraud when looking at her own reflection in the mirror.

I am not against all aspects of the digitalisation of our world. I am grateful for all the apps that allow me to be in touch with family and friends abroad on a regular basis. This used to be extremely expensive, and therefore rare, in my childhood days of landlines. Having video chats allows my daughter and my nephew, growing up in different countries, to have a close relationship. But the great lie we tell ourselves is that this is good enough. Having friends and family around, socialising cross-generationally, being surrounded by people to rely on when facing big or small crises, is worth much more than we think. And our era of over-interconnectedness online does go with a growing sense of isolation offline.

*Even when together, we are each in a bubble (image taken from Canva)*

I remember the countless conversations I used to have with strangers in cafés or bars, because we weren’t glued to our mobile phones. Some were less interesting than others, but the feeling of loneliness described by young Charly Cox wasn’t there. And every once in a while, I would meet very interesting people that way, too. Today, when sitting by myself in a café, if I’m not writing in my notebook or reading a book, I, too, take out my phone to send messages to loved ones or read some article online. We convince ourselves that exchanged messages via Whatsapp make us feel like we’re with our friends and family. But the emotional component is not the same as a face-to-face conversation, even with a complete stranger. And although this tendency has spread to south-eastern regions of Europe, the sense of community is still stronger there than it is here, in the West.

In James Cameron’s “Titanic”, the first-class passengers were caricatured as cold and unemotional, in contrast to the spontaneous, fun-loving, warm-hearted third-class travellers. Our current reality reminds me of this, in that north-western wealthier countries appear to have traded in solidarity, community and warmth for financial stability, security and individual freedom. When weighing the pros and cons of potentially moving to a south-eastern European country, I cannot say with certainty that one of these two models is better than the other. I don’t know which of these I would rather raise my child in. There is much to be said for security (or even the illusion thereof), opportunities for a career, living in a functional system. But kids, who are still so closely connected to their emotions, dream of a big family and a community to be a part of, and I do believe that such a community can be an antidote for many a mental health issue, for children and adults alike.

“Titanic” party scene in the Third Class

For now, I remain where I am, because we have built a small community around us, made up of kids from my daughter’s school and their parents, who have become friends over time. We all manage to gather outside for ice cream and drinks on sunny Fridays, as our way to say “TGIF!”, while we chat and our kids play – and only rarely do we take out our phones. But for most of my friends, who are foreigners and live in other neighbourhoods, it has been hard to make and keep friends here. We are all busy in our homes, working (remotely), taking care of our kids, communicating with our loved ones abroad, exercising when we can, and then collapsing in front of a movie. And most of these activities involve screens which, by definition, are flat. Hence, we spend most of our time pretending that a flat surface can fulfil needs in a similar way to the three-dimensional universe we see on it. But our bodies and minds are slowly telling us otherwise, and so it is time to look for a new way forward, because going backwards is not an option.

(Title quote by Lech Wałęsa)

“Should I stay or should I go?”

People everywhere are slowly resurfacing, after the COVID whirlpool engulfed us all, in one way or another. Since then, several of my friends have been echoeing what I’ve been reading about, namely that now, whoever still has a job should be so grateful, that they are expected to sacrifice everything to keep it.

A dear friend of mine recently asked whether she should stay at her current job, stick it out and keep hoping for a positive change – or whether she should get out before becoming cynical. I’ve decided to share her recent journey and dilemma on my blog, because her experience is a reflection of a general tendency I have observed over the last few years.

Ida is a passionate film producer, who traded her longtime exciting career for a more stable job in a young, dynamic and prominent lobbying organisation. Since she only moved to Belgium a few years ago, and has young kids to provide for, advising her to “throw caution to the wind” might not be the best advice I could give her.

After all, it is true that in this day and age, good jobs are hard to come by. Especially as a forty-year-old foreigner and mother of two. Jobs in organisations that awaken your enthusiasm, working with skilled and kind people are a rarity. And yet, even with such a job, staying is not necessarily the best option either.

During her first year in the organisation, whenever Ida spoke of it, it seemed too good to be true. She could hardly believe it when they hired her, though she was visibly pregnant. And yet, she still feared being fired afterwards, and suffered from the much-talked-about “imposter syndrome”. She thought that being hired must surely have been a mistake on the organisation’s part, as all her colleagues were performing so well and fast. But as time went by, she learned the ropes and got to the same level of productivity and quick thinking as her teammates. As I’ve often observed, mental agility is something one can reacquire quite easily, when motivated. So why should she leave?

For one thing, even though she was promised a nine-to-five job, Ida regularly ends up working evenings and weekends. Even nights, since she had to take care of her kids after work.

Secondly, in spite of her initial impression that she was working in an organisation with a horizontal structure, the underlying hierarchy seems as present there as in any state administration. The day her manager told her, that he expected her to “make him shine” was the day she realised her chances of advancement were non-existent. Initially, she was led to believe that being ambitious was good, but this rule ended up only applying to management-level employees. Just as the old saying reminds us that “the fish stinks from the head”, one bad leader can ruin the experience of working in any organisation for the entire team.

Thirdly, as time went by, we all saw Ida’s enthusiasm crumbling, as she started seeing cracks in the structure and promoted ideals. For a while, she hadn’t seen them because, as an employee, she was made to feel that she was special. Like in any cult or totalitarian regime, she was repeatedly told how lucky she was to be working in such an organisation. All of us tried to warn her, that the friend we knew and loved was slowly disappearing. But the feedback she was getting at work was that she was “amazing” or “awesome”, which reinforced her perception of being in the best of organisations.

At first, Ida was thrilled to hear that her colleagues prompted her to “bring her authentic self” to work. But the definition of this authenticity, it turns out, needed to remain within the boundaries set by the organisation.

Like me, Ida has always been passionate about inclusion. So when she saw that this was a major point in their campaigns, she was overjoyed at the prospect of being part of the change she wanted to see in the world. Soon after, she realised that inclusion was only understood through the prism of narrow racial and gender issues. Members of countless underrepresenrted ethnic minorities targeted by systemic racism all over the world, were sorely missing across the board. As well as workers with disabilities, solo caregivers, employees over the age of 50 or talented and experienced individuals with no graduate degree.

I’ve often observed that the success of organisations or companies in today’s fast-paced world is built on hyper-dynamic, driven, young nonparents, ready to sacrifice their nights, weekends and mental health, because they are among the chosen few who are lucky enough to have a great job.

It is easy to buy into a shiny image and professed values, which echo your own. But when the honeymoon phase was over for Ida, and she discovered that the Great and Powerful Oz was an old man hiding behind a curtain, she had a hard time dedicating her energy and time to serving an illusion. In the end, our group of friends all gave Ida the same advice: in this instance, her mind should give right of way to her heart. And in her heart, she already knew that a steady paycheck and perks were lighter on her scale than daily abuse from a narcissistic boss.

Excerpt from “The Wizard of Oz” (MGM, 1939) when Dorothy, Toto and their three companions discover the Great and Powerful Oz.

Many of my friends are now in their forties. At that age, the prospect of climbing back up on the merry-go-round of job seeking isn’t thrilling. But it is the only right decision if you are truly unhappy at work, and still have the opportunity to regain your dignity and enjoy your time on earth.

I, too, have sometimes taken my time here for granted. But these two years of the COVID-19 pandemic partly isolated me from a broader and larger world, than that of productivity and practicality. Which is why I am following my own advice to Ida, and making time to reconnect with friends, family, my broader network of activists and artists – and myself. Both Ida and I have decided to go back to our own creative projects, and also make time for our kids.

And to document this post-COVID chapter, I am trading in my slick MacBook Pro for an old-fashioned paper notebook and pen. Back to the roots we go.

(Title: Song by the Clash)

“42 Up”

Some ten years ago, I watched a documentary film that had a deep impact on how I perceive life. It was entitled “42 Up”. It followed a number of Brits from different regions and social backgrounds every seven years, from the ages of seven to forty-two. I saw them go from being sparkly-eyed kids to awkward teenagers to responsible adults to middle-aged men and women. Some more ordinary than others, some happier, some more successful, some more fulfilled than others.

Seeing the result of this film, spanning over thirty-five years, left me feeling both amazed and sad. What I found in all of them was the inevitable loss of innocence that comes with age and experience. That also went with a loss of ideals in many. And loss of beauty as well. Today, at forty-two, I should watch it again and see how I feel about it. Or better still, I should watch the latest film in Michael Apted’s series that began with “Seven Up!” (1964), which is now “63 Up”. Somewhere along the line, the title lost its exclamation mark… which, incidentally, seems a perfect way to sum up the difference between the ages of seven and sixty-three.

In this COVID-19 crisis, I am fortunate to have a new job that I’m excited about, to have my wide-eyed child by my side, to live in a home and a neighbourhood I love, to be in regular touch with my loving family. But these times of relative isolation have also brought on a new wave of reflection which, combined with the Netflix content I’ve been watching (such as “Marriage Story” or “The Last Dance”) reminds me that life doesn’t turn out the way one expects. Ever. There are unexpected successes, joys, falls and pains. And while love and hope inspire and drive us, suffering and pain play a significant role in shaping us as well. I saw this in “42 Up”, too. There is so much we do – or avoid doing – for fear of being hurt.

Though I don’t believe that we are born as clean slates, I do see us as clay shapes that life hits, carves, moulds over time. Bit by bit, we evolve into complex beings, growing increasingly unique and different from each other, as life adds one texture after another to our initially smooth clay. At middle age, I perceive love and hope in my peers. But none has kept that initial innocence we all used to have. That faith that there will be a “happily ever after”. Because our lives have taught us otherwise. There is no “ever after” as such. There is only happy, then unhappy, then happy again, and so on and so forth. But over time, erosion makes us less affected or moved by unhappiness and happiness alike. Our skin gets thicker, we roll with the punches and we enjoy well-deserved rests after each round.

In this time of contemplation for the whole world, I do appreciate what I have. I also look forward to many more moments of happiness. Even though I know better than to expect what I imagine for myself to come true (in the positive or the negative sense), I do know that joy comes back to me after every struggle. But where am I right now? If I were to do my own “42 Up” recap of my life, it would probably go like this: At age seven, my world was enchanted, almost perfect. At fourteen, it was painful and filled with self-loathing. At twenty-one, it was hopeful and looking to the future. At twenty-eight, it was harsh but glorious. At thirty-five, it was awakened to what adult life is. At forty-two, it is unsettled and I am searching for steady ground.

For three years, I have been feeling like the earth under my feet has been shaking. And, like in a seismic zone, every time it stops, another earthquake rocks the ground I walk upon. And it isn’t easy to build on moving ground. But I have been fortunate enough to join a company built on the concept of constant transformation, flexibility and adaptability. And my travelling companion is a little girl who loves the circus so much, she now excels at finding her balance in any situation like a tightrope walker. What I must now learn from both is not to expect the ground to ever stand still, but rather to function and grow on moving ground. Perhaps by the next seven-year mark, my spirit will be as agile as my daughter’s nimble body.

(Title: Documentary Film directed by Michael Apted)