What is your ideal place to live?

I grew up in Oxford, England, which has radically colored my view of what a home can look like. It’s hardly a city at all — one girlfriend derisively called it “a village” — but sits close enough to London that you can get there in under an hour. It’s surrounded by green space.

The city itself is home one of the oldest universities in the world, around which other prominent universities, learning institutions, NGOs, and businesses have sprung up. The result is that the place is filled with bookstores, music, theater, art and culture, but even more importantly, there is a constant influx of people from all over the world: not as tourists, but as temporary residents. This diverse population has brought new ideas, cultures, cuisines, and ways of living. Being from somewhere else is completely normal.

You don’t need a car to get around. There’s adequate public transit (even if it’s getting more expensive), but it’s also incredibly walkable. Bicycle paths are everywhere, and arguably bicycles are the easiest, fastest way to get around.

Being a university town, ideas are important. Assuming they are delivered in good faith and are well-considered, diverse ideas are considered seriously. There is little dogma beyond the idea of the university itself. There are certainly no established lines that you need to arrange yourself behind.

Most of these things are true in London, too, of course, and I’ve more recently found it in cities like New York and San Francisco. New York in particular has become one of my favorite places in the world: a space where all kinds of people literally live on top of each other. It’s a vibrant space where everything feels possible, while also being one of the safest, most walkable cities in the world (with a surprising amount of green space). I don’t think I’d risk cycling around it, but people certainly do.

There are a few things that make these spaces great: green spaces, walkability, public transit. But I think the most important is their diversity, and therefore their openness to immigration and different ways of being.

The inverse describes places I don’t want to live in: car-driven spaces where people generally have the same shared heritage and the same ideas, with little public transit and low connections to the outside world.

So you’re pro-immigration?

I am, but I think of immigration as a means to an end. I’m not as much pro-immigration as I am anti-monoculture. The goal isn’t to have lots of immigrants in itself; the goal is to have a broad, inclusive society, which implies a vibrancy, and in turn requires different cultures, ideas, and ways of living to present themselves.

There’s plenty of research that shows how beneficial this can be: it pushes up wages and economic activity, and particularly for populations that are becoming older on average (that’s us), provides younger workers.

Selfishly, it’s also more comfortable for me. I don’t like monocultures in part because I am never part of one: as a third culture kid with parents who have different nationalities and grew up in a third place, I can’t be by definition. As well as white American and Northern European, my heritage is Jewish and Indonesian. Monocultures necessarily exclude me, and I don’t feel safe in them; they make me feel like an Other.

While middle class residents see a net gain, there is a growing body of evidence which may show that immigration can harm working class populations in a host location by displacing them from work and affecting their wages. That can’t be overlooked, and questions need to be asked about how they can see a net gain too. I think the solution relates to funneling more of the net gains from increased economic activity into better social programs, free education, and better social infrastructure overall.

I don’t think the goal can be to preserve monocultures. Communities do gain overall if there is immigration. Those communities are qualitatively better places to live as well as statistically more prosperous. And it’s simply not where the world is headed: global transit and communications are cheaper and more available than ever. Even if we all decided we hated immigration and wanted to be inward-facing societies forever, the cat is out of the bag. Instead, then, we need to make sure everyone sees the benefit from it.

So you’re a socialist?

It depends on your definition! I think there’s a lot to be gained from social infrastructure: public healthcare, education, and transit, social programs like welfare, and ways to life people up who fall through the cracks.

Knowing that low-income people may not always see the benefit from immigration, I think we need to provide stronger structures to lift everyone up, which include universal healthcare, accessible, high-quality education, and reliable, frequent public transit. We can fund those through stronger taxes for the wealthiest in our society (many of whom are also in favor of this), by collecting taxes from people and businesses who already owe but don’t pay, as well as efficiency gains in how we provide existing services. There’s been plenty of work to show that the numbers do add up and these are perfectly possible things to provide.

But if you’re asking me if I believe in fully centrally-planned economies? No. Everyone should be able to start a business or work for themselves, and I don’t think government is best placed to innovate.

What about crime?

Most violent crime is caused by poverty, and migrants are statistically much less likely to commit it. The stereotype of immigrant populations coming in and ruining the place is a racist myth, and increasing the base quality of life for everyone through better social infrastructure will reduce crime. Take San Francisco: although crime in the city is generally overstated by the right-wing press, a radically widened divide between rich and poor has resulted in more car break-ins, shoplifting, and similar offenses. Those are not things that would happen in a city where everyone was able to live comfortably.

The most egregious crimes are white collar, where financial losses are significant. Preventing these and effectively collecting taxes from people who should be contributing will help provide for the people who are truly feeling the squeeze.

Clearly, in any given society, there need to be sensible laws and enforcement of them. The biggest gains, though, are not created through draconian policing. They come from stronger social infrastructure that genuinely protects people. If people cannot afford to live, they will do what they need to in order to survive. Where this has to do with immigration — potentially at low income levels — more help must be provided.

What about refugees?

Europe in particular has received an influx of refugees because of ongoing wars. That can’t be an externality: if you fund a war, taking on refugees from that war is a reasonable thing to expect. That’s not a comment on whether those wars are right or wrong; it’s simply an inevitability.

Meanwhile, countries like Britain that spent centuries invading the rest of the world, often oppressing them violently, are now complaining about immigration and refugees. All I’ll say about that is that the world is interconnected: actions have consequences.

And that interconnectedness goes further. Our actions and inaction with respect to global trade and the effects of the climate crisis are also creating refugees. We’re all implicated, and of course we should have a duty to deal with the human consequences. Not only that, but I would argue we have a fundamental duty to help other human beings — while accepting that not everyone agrees. Like so much else in this conversation, it comes down to our values and priorities.

What if I like living in a monoculture?

You do you! Monocultures will always available. I’m just not interested in living in one, and the evidence shows that they will always be poorer than open, inclusive societies. I think people who vote for them thinking that it will lead to a better life for them are unfortunately mistaken.

The country where I grew up voted to legally prevent me from living there again in a referendum in 2016. It has proven to be an economic and cultural shot in the foot: Brexit was a disaster, and only 31% of Britons now say they were right to leave the EU.

Also, seeing seas of Trump supporters at conventions holding up signs saying “mass deportations now” is pretty chilling. Qualitatively, that mindset — only people like us are allowed! — is something I truly fear, not least because that always means that people like me are never allowed. That’s taken us to some dark places in the past, but it’s also simply not a recipe for a nice place to live.

So you’re playing the Nazi card?

A lot of people call people Nazis these days. In itself it’s become a cliché that can be a barrier to further discussion. I do tend to agree with Mike Godwin, the author of Godwin’s Law, who said that it does not apply to describing Trump. But I get that people are easily triggered by it.

I think there’s always, by definition, a kind of fascism inherent in wanting to live in a monoculture. Fascism deals with in-groups and out-groups; similarly, monocultures, by definition, need to maintain conformity. It’s not that people in those places are goose-stepping in militaristic parades (generally speaking), but that’s also not what Nazism is actually about. The death camps came later; it started with narrowly defining who belongs and who doesn’t belong. To put it another way, Nazism started by enforcing a monoculture: while not every monoculture leads to fascism, fascism always begins with enforcing conformity.

I’ve written a lot in the past about how I’m uncomfortable with the ideas of patriotism and nationalism. Both seem arbitrary: the idea of being proud of the place you happened to be born in is random. I think it’s better to be proud of ideas and of values. But ultimately patriotism is fairly benign: if you want to be proud of your town, state, or country somewhere that you happened to be born in or have adopted as home, whatever. It’s not my thing, but please enjoy.

Nationalism, on the other hand, describes identification with your country of origin to the exclusion or detriment of that of people from other nations. It inherently implies harm. The question of who does and doesn’t belong is actually quite complicated (I have a British accent; I have British cultural touchpoints; my hometown is Oxford; I do not hold citizenship; am I British?). In itself the question leads to a toxicity that can poison a community: in considering who belongs and who doesn’t, we needfully set ourselves up for having conversations about how to exclude people.

Similarly, the question about who is and isn’t a Nazi isn’t actually very useful, and hangs the discourse on a very superficial question. It’s also more complicated than it appears: Hitler’s policies regarding Jewish people was in part based on American Jim Crow laws. The Nazis weren’t some aberration in history: they were a part of a continuum, very much in line with what was happening elsewhere, and we’ve learned that similar ideas can crop up anywhere if the conditions are right.

So I’d rather just ask: what is the society we want to create? What are the values that are important to us? I can tell you that mine are about inclusion, a broad definition of belonging, and vibrant diversity, where social structures are intentionally created that allow everyone to live a good life, where ideas and expression are open, where there is no state violence, and where anyone can innovate or create a business if they have a good enough idea.

I don’t want to live in a monoculture, and will vote and make decisions on that basis. If you do, you should vote and make decisions on that basis. If the overwhelming will of the people is that monocultures are good, I will march, rally, protest, and vote in opposition to that idea. And should the monoculture decide that it needs to label the businesses created by people like me — or people like anyone — or to label the people themselves as Other, if it decides to forcibly deport them, if mobs or police go looking for them like they did for my ancestors, if it decides that it must put people into camps like the one my father spent the first few years of his life in, if it decides to burn down communities as was done to my great grandfather’s village, then I will fight, and fight hard, and I promise you there are many, many others who feel the same way. None of this is new.

In the end this comes down to who gets to be a part of the future, and fundamentally, I believe the future should be for everyone.

And, to bring this conversation back to its initial question, that’s my ideal place to live: somewhere that’s for everyone, culturally and ideologically.