As a British ex-pat, who has resided in Belgium for a little over a year now, the thought that has taken up residence in the back of my mind for quite a while now is, ‘what will Brexit do?’
What will it do to my rights to remain in Europe? What will it do to my job prospects? What will it do to my way of life?
In my heart I’m European, but on my passport I’m British.
Growing up in London, I was exposed to the melting pot of cultures, that makes it such a beautiful, wonderful city. A diverse city of differing but shared ideas of multicultural acceptance, but following the Brexit referendum in 2016, I saw that melting pot image harden.
As seeds of hate planted through a campaign trail, born from fabrication and false promises, took root, watered by the demonisation of immigrants and the less fortunate to cover up the consequences of austerity, that had mined our public services, leaving them as husks of their former selves.
In March 2019, I braced myself for the worst, two years of back and forth bickering leading us off a cliff’s edge without a paddle, or so it seemed.
However, with each deadline extension, I started to gain new hope. I thought for a moment that perhaps we would stay as part of this union, which is far from perfect, but holds true in its missions and values in the shared interest of peace, defenders of them many not the few.
Although, now, almost nine months later, from the initial leave date, I began my morning abruptly woken by a 4:00 AM news alert from my BBC app. A declaration that hope was lost. A Conservative Party victory, that has now sealed our fate. Led by the demagogue figure of Boris Johnson, who will inevitably lead my home down the path of maximum destruction under the guise of freedom, and taking back control.
You may argue that in the name of democracy, that it is the will of the people and must be respected, and perhaps my thoughts and feelings exist in an echo chamber of like-mindedness. If my social media feed is anything to go by, this is definitely true.
Looking out over the grey and rain-filled streets of Brussels, I know that I live in and work in a bubble. However, my beginnings on a council-owned housing estate in Hackney, have remained with me, as I climbed the ladder of society, now comfortably existing amongst the middle classes, and I fear what is coming.
We’ve all read or seen the news stories of the victims of austerity, thousands of societies most vulnerable being forced into dire situations, as their basic human rights and needs are not met, many cases costing them their lives. The elderly will suffer. The disabled will suffer. The poor will suffer. The NHS will most likely be privatised. All in the name of control and the will of the people, have we forgotten our humanity?
In times like this, where I’m forced into questioning the reasoning of reality, I’m reminded of Book Six, of Plato’s The Republic, where he recalls Socrates’ conversation with Adeimantus, highlighting the flaws of democracy. As although kind in concept, the rise in reality star culture has made a mockery of the very word, with improper education available to the voting masses, rational has been lost, as single-issue politics takes flight fuelled by populist notions, of us vs them, without a second thought to consequences or repercussions.
As I watched the ticker flicking across the bottom of my television screen, interrupted by phone notifications from shocked friends and family, both in the UK and in my residing country, I watched as historically strong Labour and Liberal Democrat seats swung from red to blue.
Constituencies with strong union pasts, and integrated migrant communities, seemingly voting against their best interests, like turkeys voting for Christmas or slugs for salt, to be ruled under a mandate won by hate and fear. To get Brexit done, whatever the price may be.