In this last reflection piece, I will attempt to put together some of the many parts of the program “Reenacting German and American Identities,” specifically touching upon historical narratives, identity labels, historical appropriation, and my own reflections on identity. This post will by no means synthesize every discussion that took place over the course of the program, or even the four day section in Jena: there is simply too much to discuss all at once. That said, I would like to start this post by examining the differing historical narratives between the United States and Germany.
I was fortunate to be able to participate in a discussion with students and professors from Friedrich-Schiller University and U.S. General Consul Scott Reidmann about German perceptions of America. Naturally, the NSA came up, as well as American’s openness when it comes to posting on the internet. Consul Reidmann suggested that Americans are much more individualistic when it comes to choosing what is appropriate to post online because we have a very individualistic history, having “thrown off the yoke of British rule.” Germany’s history, on the other hand, is a story of unification, a binding of different city-states and kingdoms into one nation. I wondered if this historical difference between the two nations could explain why Germans as a whole are much more supportive of a nationalized health system and heavily subsidized higher education. It appears that the strong “states’ right” movement in the US hinders such national consensus from forming, as it has in Germany.
Simplifying German and American identity into one idea is overly simplistic, of course. The definition of what being “German” or “American” means can vary greatly between individuals. Looking closer at the history of both nations, it is also clear that one historical narrative cannot accurately describe the formation of such identities. Germany’s East/West divide created a part of Germany that, to this day, tends to believe more firmly in socialist, community-oriented ideals. One only needs to look at the varying portrayals of Native Americans in the former GDR and West Germany: in the GDR, Native Americans were portrayed as the protagonists against an oppressive colonizer. This portrayal attempted to validate the idea that the GDR was being oppressed by the West. Similarly, varying interpretations of the Confederate flag in the US attest to the power of regional forces in determining identity. Many Southerners are still inclined to believe that the Confederate flag represents states’ rights and southern culture, as opposed to racism (the dominant narrative in non-Southern states).
How German and American identity is defined also has its roots in the appropriation of history through what is taught in the educational systems. In Jena, many of my fellow American students confessed that they did not learn much about Native Americans. Unlike Germany’s strong focus on the Holocaust (concentration camp visits are mandatory at many schools), few states in the US focus on the history of Native Americans. And few people have been on an Indian Reservation. Similarly, Japanese internment is something that is also shied away from. “Winners write history”—this appears to be true in some countries, like the US, but not in others (Germany—although in the case of WWII, arguably nobody won). The depiction of historical events, or other cultures, in textbooks and in classrooms, shapes an entire generation’s outlook on a particular event: where loyalties and sympathies lie, how the past is interpreted, and how this interpretation is incorporated into the future. For instance, it is generally taught that Union winning the Civil War was “good,” and that this “goodness” necessarily implies that the Confederate’s way of life (slavery) was “bad.” What is the dominant interpretation of the Union winning was that it was “bad’—would slavery have been re-instituted as the norm?
Identity is a term that is highly subjective, always shifting, and very elusive. Identity takes on many forms an can be influenced by many different factors—race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, language, religion, geographic location, socioeconomic status, immigrant status, education level, occupation, etc…This program allowed me to explore identity both through academic and non-academic lenses; I explored other people’s identities, as well as my own. Some of the strongest memories I have from this study abroad program involve my identity as an Arab-American. It seemed that everywhere I went in Berlin (and even Jena), I ran into Arabs who had their own falafel or doner stands. I even helped two women on vacation from Palestine navigate the U-Bahn once. A lot of the people I talked to (in Arabic) were surprised at how well I spoke Arabic, given that I have lived in the United States my entire life. I realized, through these discussions, that I had something in common with all of these Arabs: we were all products of diaspora. We were what happens when war ravages your country and the economy is in shambles: people relocate to faraway lands and build new lives. Germany, the United States, Canada, Argentina, Brazil, Denmark, Sweden, Iceland, Zambia, Nigeria…these are just a few places where I personally know Arabs have relocated to in order to build better lives. I had never really considered my identity as being a part of this great migration trend, as being a product of a diaspora, but I realized in Germany that just because I wasn’t the one who immigrated didn’t mean that I wasn’t a part of this whole movement. I am connected to these strangers by language and by distance from our ancestral roots.
I would like to conclude by saying that I don’t know what kind of impact this study abroad program will have on me quite yet, considering it ended just two days ago. What I do know is that I already feel more globally connected, especially given my newfound realizations about my own identity. The question truly becomes “now what?”—how will I apply what I have learned in Berlin and Jena to my life in the Seattle? Only time will answer these questions.
I was fortunate to be able to participate in a discussion with students and professors from Friedrich-Schiller University and U.S. General Consul Scott Reidmann about German perceptions of America. Naturally, the NSA came up, as well as American’s openness when it comes to posting on the internet. Consul Reidmann suggested that Americans are much more individualistic when it comes to choosing what is appropriate to post online because we have a very individualistic history, having “thrown off the yoke of British rule.” Germany’s history, on the other hand, is a story of unification, a binding of different city-states and kingdoms into one nation. I wondered if this historical difference between the two nations could explain why Germans as a whole are much more supportive of a nationalized health system and heavily subsidized higher education. It appears that the strong “states’ right” movement in the US hinders such national consensus from forming, as it has in Germany.
Simplifying German and American identity into one idea is overly simplistic, of course. The definition of what being “German” or “American” means can vary greatly between individuals. Looking closer at the history of both nations, it is also clear that one historical narrative cannot accurately describe the formation of such identities. Germany’s East/West divide created a part of Germany that, to this day, tends to believe more firmly in socialist, community-oriented ideals. One only needs to look at the varying portrayals of Native Americans in the former GDR and West Germany: in the GDR, Native Americans were portrayed as the protagonists against an oppressive colonizer. This portrayal attempted to validate the idea that the GDR was being oppressed by the West. Similarly, varying interpretations of the Confederate flag in the US attest to the power of regional forces in determining identity. Many Southerners are still inclined to believe that the Confederate flag represents states’ rights and southern culture, as opposed to racism (the dominant narrative in non-Southern states).
How German and American identity is defined also has its roots in the appropriation of history through what is taught in the educational systems. In Jena, many of my fellow American students confessed that they did not learn much about Native Americans. Unlike Germany’s strong focus on the Holocaust (concentration camp visits are mandatory at many schools), few states in the US focus on the history of Native Americans. And few people have been on an Indian Reservation. Similarly, Japanese internment is something that is also shied away from. “Winners write history”—this appears to be true in some countries, like the US, but not in others (Germany—although in the case of WWII, arguably nobody won). The depiction of historical events, or other cultures, in textbooks and in classrooms, shapes an entire generation’s outlook on a particular event: where loyalties and sympathies lie, how the past is interpreted, and how this interpretation is incorporated into the future. For instance, it is generally taught that Union winning the Civil War was “good,” and that this “goodness” necessarily implies that the Confederate’s way of life (slavery) was “bad.” What is the dominant interpretation of the Union winning was that it was “bad’—would slavery have been re-instituted as the norm?
Identity is a term that is highly subjective, always shifting, and very elusive. Identity takes on many forms an can be influenced by many different factors—race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, language, religion, geographic location, socioeconomic status, immigrant status, education level, occupation, etc…This program allowed me to explore identity both through academic and non-academic lenses; I explored other people’s identities, as well as my own. Some of the strongest memories I have from this study abroad program involve my identity as an Arab-American. It seemed that everywhere I went in Berlin (and even Jena), I ran into Arabs who had their own falafel or doner stands. I even helped two women on vacation from Palestine navigate the U-Bahn once. A lot of the people I talked to (in Arabic) were surprised at how well I spoke Arabic, given that I have lived in the United States my entire life. I realized, through these discussions, that I had something in common with all of these Arabs: we were all products of diaspora. We were what happens when war ravages your country and the economy is in shambles: people relocate to faraway lands and build new lives. Germany, the United States, Canada, Argentina, Brazil, Denmark, Sweden, Iceland, Zambia, Nigeria…these are just a few places where I personally know Arabs have relocated to in order to build better lives. I had never really considered my identity as being a part of this great migration trend, as being a product of a diaspora, but I realized in Germany that just because I wasn’t the one who immigrated didn’t mean that I wasn’t a part of this whole movement. I am connected to these strangers by language and by distance from our ancestral roots.
I would like to conclude by saying that I don’t know what kind of impact this study abroad program will have on me quite yet, considering it ended just two days ago. What I do know is that I already feel more globally connected, especially given my newfound realizations about my own identity. The question truly becomes “now what?”—how will I apply what I have learned in Berlin and Jena to my life in the Seattle? Only time will answer these questions.
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