Robert L. Terrell

I have always been deeply attracted to living abroad. And I have taken good advantage of every opportunity to do so. Over the years, I have lived in several European nations. And I have traveled broadly in that territory, with long stays in Romania, Hungary, Germany, Holland and France. I lived in Nairobi, Kenya for a year. And on two separate occasions, I lived a year in Beijing, China. All that has been deeply rewarding. Most important, it has profoundly influenced my development and maturation as a human being.

In addition to taking full advantage of every good opportunity to live abroad, I have also spent many summers over the decades traveling abroad. This, too, has influenced my character, perspective and commitments. But during past half decade, I have begun to think about traveling and living abroad in a new and somewhat disturbing way. I don’t know exactly when it started, but every intuition suggests that it originated during the period immediately after 9-11. The attack itself was bad enough. But it has not bothered me nearly as much as my dawning recognition that the attack, and the largely unhinged response by the U.S. government, has engendered a fundamental transition in the character of life in this country.

As a result, I have come to believe it is prudent to begin the search for alternative digs. I don’t want to do so. But I feel compelled to identify specific alternative locations where I would be willing to live more or less permanently if and when I decide it is no longer possible for me to live here in the United States. I do not think I am alone. As a matter of fact, I sense that many others are also reluctantly engaged, in one way or another, in the same search.

It is not just the constant barrage of heavy propaganda associated with the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. But the psychological, financial, social, political, economic and horrific human suffering engendered by those brutal episodes are undeniably responsible in part for this new sense of physical and moral unease that I can’t shake. Moreover, something deep inside insists that I should not seek to sublimate and deny that unease. That same something deep inside also insists that responding to my emergent dilemma in an intelligent pro-active manner may well be the key to my health and survival. As a result, I spend more time these days thinking about living permanently abroad than I ever imagined I would…