It makes me shudder with excitement to think that I am actually rapidly rising from impressing my society to literally leaving the cosmos breathless.
My cosmopolitan dream is not wrong simply because it sounds slightly bombastic. However, let’s give it a chance to germinate and explain itself; perhaps it’s really less bombastic than rational.My cosmopolitan dream is not wrong because it’s mine. Not because it’s cosmopolitan. Nor because it’s a dream. It is wrong because it’s all these three things kneaded together. A glass of wine is usually positive. A cocktail may be explosive both by action and omission. A forced cocktail is often a time-bomb.
Exuberant cosmopolitanism sins by forgetting the importance of reinforcement of cultural identity of long-generation residents, dreamily invited not to be culturally introverted. It drowns in its dream some basic factors by galloping, open invitations to guests while addressing only by tiny initiatives massive problems such as leaking accommodation. This is far beyond imbalance. I see the application of minute, sporadic accommodation solutions as self-delusion in the slow-filling of the chasm of basic shelter which may conveniently be called an issue of perception rather than a reality. Perception drowns pain with my cosmopolitan dream. It is thus a defence mechanism.
Some people in administrative positions think that the positive results of cosmopolitanism may be obtained by picking up babies of immigrants and kissing them in front of cameras. Such puerility in the understanding of social psychology is incredible. Cultural cosmopolitanism is obtained by a comprehensive study of the reduction of cultural friction and encouragement of organised multiculturalism. Picking up immigrant babies and kissing them is a farcical pedagogical exercise. So is the obsession by some photographers of taking permanent pictures of immigrant children and pregnant women as a deluded exercise in objective journalism when in reality it is a tentative expression of emotional journalism – which does not even exist! An emotional photographer/journalist may be a successful poet. As to journalism, forget it!
When what is mine is also that of my close human environment, I am a participant in a social group; a pleasant experience as it draws me out of myself. When what is mine is pushed into being that of my village and town, I start being an amusing person. Very amusing and a little dangerous. When I start believing, and shaking in gesticulating song,that what is mine also requiresto become that of my country, I change to slightly amusing and very dangerous.
Man was not born with a destiny of being cosmopolitan – which is not a survival instinct. But man realised, over many generations, that cosmopolitanism is good when it brings about harmony and peace, when it becomes a feast of variety: linguistic, cultural, musical, theatrical, vestimentary – the works (if you’ll excuse my occasional Americanisms as a result of some wanderings in North America where you may avoid asking for yellow, red and brown ketchup and simply say ‘the works’ as recommended by the National Institute of North American Gastro-intestinal Tickling.)
Cosmpolitanism ponders on the outlandish and accepts it if one has nothing else to do. I was once talking to a cosmopolitan Home Minister who waxed lyrical about variety of choices in administration. At the same time, nine words out of his every ten were ‘procedure’ which, to him, determines society NOT the other way round. I was struck, almost physically, by such dull socio-politics, but understood that a Home Minister may be a person whose boring conservatism may actually encourage you to stay at home rather than meeting him.And this to avoid weeping at his contradictions.
Some universities, modern, revolutionary, progressive (the works) told me that they don’t accept internet web-sites as bibliography. I was struck by this progressism and tried to understand why yellowish pages, with some bookworm holes in smellbound book, are the only sources of knowledge acceptable to somefountains of research. Well, there you have it, what is bizarre to you may be very profound to others – thus the importance of bookworm deep holes in other people’s preferences of good sources of info.
Basic instincts and needs are common to all humans, obviously because they are basic. Differences between humans are not the result of choice, but the consequences of climate, geography and the type of terrain they happen to abide. Once I am in a restaurant, I tend to choose according to certain gastronomic preferences. It’s my right. However, it is also interesting to try out other dishes, for the sake of experimental joy – I correct that to satisfaction as joy inside a dish may be slightly bombastic. Same as a cosmopolitan dream.Enjoyable experimentation may be a gastronomic, positive experience if I am in charge of my decisions. Some persons sitting at our table may grab us by our throat to do us a favour of trying out what gives them pleasure. A person who thrusts a menu into my stomach is being thrustworthy,self-convinced that he is being cosmopolitan, that is gastronomically astronomical.
The cosmopolitan dream is also thwarted, ironically, by a democratic reality. I have lived in various countries for long periods. The first time I was abroad for a number of years, I was only eighteen; and now I am a few weeks older. Since then, for reasons of work and study, I spent one third of my life abroad. Which makes me now (and later) at least 25 years old. Not once, I repeat NOT ONCE, have I criticised a country which I visited ranging from a few days to several years. Even less did I write in the media, against a country that was hosting me. The reason is that once you are living in a country, and don’t like it and/or its people, what are you doing there?
President NicolasSarcozy, with his good and bad points, used to say: “La France, vousl’aimezouvous la quittez.” “If you don’t like France, you leave it.” Most foreigners living in a host country don’t care about Sarkozy’s opinion, which I share. This may be a radical opinion, maybe with democratic flaws. However, to me, a host country is a country I must love. If not, I stay there as little as possible and don’t go back. Many guests are different. They hate a country and its people but don’t want to leave. Is it masochism? Maybe not, but if one spends years in a country one hates, one gives the impression that one’s country of origin must be really, really bad.
Host country haters are contradictory and live a double-bind. Most of all, they definitely dash a cosmopolitan dream. They make a mess out of multiculturalism. They actually mix badly both with the local population, and other foreigners like themselves. They thrive on bad blood. Such phenomena must also be considered when one jumps gleefully about cosmopolitan idealism. In reality, however, I believe that a large percentage of foreigners like Malta and its people. Especially those who read these articles and consequently want to stay in Malta even more.
My cosmopolitan dream thrust into politics ceases to be a noisy euphoria. It may become socio-political hysteria. To avoid this, I must put a plan into practice. I retain the self-satisfaction of something being my idea, my feeling or both. I keep alive my love of cosmopolitanism as a source of entertaining variety.
I hold on to the fact that a dream is romantic, poetic, exciting. If I control my dream, I am a winner. If my dream controls me, I am a loser.
Dr Anthony Licari has an academic background of Human Sciences from various French universities.