Leaving Brexit Behind

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Its been nearly 6 months since I made the moved from London to the Far East, and I’m not yet regretting the decision.

I left my Photography Agency in London in order to detach myself from the creative quagmire which I had found myself in.

A combination of political and cultural circumstances had left me feeling incredibly dissatisfied with the state of the country, as well as my place in it.

This disillusionment was a sentiment shared by many of my colleagues and friends but this did not comfort me in any way. In fact, this shared sentiment made me feel even more frustrated with my social group.

I suppose the chief motivation for my exit from the country was guilt. 

The initial wave of righteous indignation that had flooded, what felt like, the entirety of London, had subsided. Now all that was left was the feeling that I could have done something more. Of course many of my colleagues, liberal leaning artists and photographers, felt that they had done their part.

They had posted and re-posted the relevant articles on social media. They had sat down at dinner parties and discussed the reasons why Britain would stay in. Then, when the day had come, they’d arrived at the polling stations promptly, before work, and voted. In their minds, the collective liberal consciousness that has long been the norm in London’s creative circles, they had done everything in their power to thwart the current situation. But it wasn’t enough.

After the results were announced, an irate sense of anger took hold of the men and women in my social circle. Good hearted people one and all, they nonetheless felt that they had been let down by their fellow Londoners and countrymen. They had wrongly assumed that their view of Britain’s place in Europe was not only the ‘right’ one but that it was shared by the majority of their fellow voters.

When the results came in, they felt that they had somehow been betrayed, duped even, into a false sense of security.

This, at least, was true. They had been living for the last year with blindfolds over their eyes. Only consuming and sharing information that conformed with their world view, they were completely unaware of the dissident population of Britain, both inside and outside of London, that was not only unhappy but felt isolated from the Government and the systems of control that were being forced upon them.

After a few weeks, I could no longer listen to the pompous righteousness of the people that I had once called friends. ‘Water-Cooler’ conversations had ceased to focus on anything about but Europe and the ‘idiots’ that had forced us to leave. No mention was made of the role that we had to play in the whole debacle. The mere idea that us good minded liberal people were in anyway to blame for the unfortunate turn of events was preposterous.

I felt different though. As much as I felt like shaking my friends and trying to make them understand the part they had to play in the result, I knew that to engage my contemporaries with this kind of argument would only lead to more anger and more hot air.

So I left, under the guise of revitalising my work…

and I’ve never been happier.