The World Cup, Patriotism and Immigrants

Note: I wrote this post between the World Cup semifinals and the final.

I was saddened when England lost in last week’s World Cup semifinals. It reminded me that I’m still an English patriot, even though my family and I left our home country when I was thirteen and I’ve since lived many decades in the United States. The World Cup unfolding on these shores is an occasion to think about the participating countries and the Americans of today who originated from them.

I felt sure England would lose the game in the seventy-second minute when, to protect their one-goal lead, they substituted defenders for attackers. You can’t hold back your own offense against an Argentinian team with such marvelous skills and attacking spirit. Harry Kane, England’s outstanding goal scorer, was left up front all by himself.

So, what does it mean to be a US citizen and yet patriotic about another country? In this ICE age, it’s a pressing question.

When I’m here in New York, I miss England, but when I’m in England, I miss America. Both have claims on my affection and loyalty.

I owe a huge, unpayable debt to America. When we moved here, I was allowed to attend the local regular school, even though I’d just lost my sight. Had we not left England, I would have been dispatched to a residential school for blind children, a less-than-ideal preparation for university and mainstream society. For this and innumerable other reasons, America has earned my loyalty. But not exclusively.

My associations with England have become increasingly tenuous over the decades. The family members I knew best —grandparents, uncles and aunts—have all died, although I feel a connection with cousins that I believe would solidify were I to return. I still have a few treasured friends there. In America, as well as having equally valued friends, I am extraordinarily fortunate to have the support of my wife’s family.

In politics, I admire and yet worry about both nations. The claims to freedom that both make are valid for most of their populations. Both have done much to correct historical injustices, from ending slavery to aiding disadvantaged countries. However, both have also compromised their principles.

When it comes to immigrants, the two countries have mixed histories. At times, both have been welcoming; at others, both hostile. I am especially disturbed by Trump’s use of masked men to round up immigrants, most without criminal records and evidently based on race and ethnic origin. During the so-called “aughts,” the UK became hostile to Eastern European immigrants who took advantage of free movement within the EU, even though their practical impact on the economy was “small.” It was a driving force behind Brexit.

I’m hardly the only immigrant to have joint loyalties that go with joint citizenship. Even people who grew up in harsh circumstances can feel a quiet yearning for the country they left behind. It’s due to the distinctive ways people interact back there, their accents and word choices, the family stories, the national myths, the climate. I fondly recall a cricket game against the West Indies that Dad, Uncle Bill and I attended one Saturday; playing in the haystack on Uncle Mike’s dairy farm; riding my bike over Sheffield’s hills and in the wood at the end of our street; visits to our far-north hometown Darlington; seaside holidays in Bridlington and Littlehampton; my friend the class comedian whose theatrical facial expressions made me laugh when our teacher was speaking in deadly earnest. Childhood is when ordinary events turn into enduring, clinging memories.

Read memoirs by expatriates, and you comprehend why they still hold feelings of love even for the countries that ill-used them. It’s a common theme for Russians, not only Alexei Navalny, who fled their country and yet chose to return despite knowing they were likely to be persecuted. André Aciman had every reason to hate Egypt, the nation that expelled him, his family and his fellow Jews, and yet his description of his childhood in Out of Egypt is moving.

My parallel loyalties prove the wisdom of the US constitution’s authors for barring foreign-born citizens from becoming president. They were equally right to let people from all parts of the world settle here. Immigrants helped build our railroads and staffed our police forces. Today, they keep agriculture flourishing and restaurants afloat, care for our children and our elderly.

Throughout this year’s World Cup, I’ve been taken with the contests between developed nations and those they once colonized, such as France versus Morocco. I have a weakness for France, but I also hoped for Morocco to be somehow vindicated by defeating their former colonizer. Throughout the tournament, I found myself wanting one team to win but the other not to lose. What is it about us humans that we demand there be winners and, as a consequence, losers?

Argentina sees the 1982 Falkland Islands/Malvinas War as an example of British imperialism. Debatable. But on Sunday, they face their true colonizer: Spain. I’ve never been to either country, but I admire much about them both, such as Argentina for author Jorge Luis Borges and composer Astor Piazzolla, and Spain for Cervantes, Joaquín Rodrigo and the nation’s successful move from Franco’s dictatorship to democracy. I want Spain to win because its leaders stood up to Trump in the early stages of his rudderless war on Iran, while Argentina’s leader is in the Trump mold.

Isn’t that too much baggage for such an event? It’s only a game. The players aren’t responsible for what their leaders do and don’t do. Wrong. Each team represents its country, whatever individual players might wish.

So it is that England stands for my childhood. It isn’t the same country it was then. If I moved back, names of many famous people there, television programs, popular music and the other commonalities of daily life would be unfamiliar, making me an odd fit.

None of that matters. I am bound to my childhood, and that childhood took place in England.

Postscript

In the World Cup final, Spain defeated Argentina. At the beginning of the game I wanted Argentina to lose, but their skill and passionate determination made them another team I didn’t want to lose.