The long nineties

I feel personal about the long nineties. Like no other decade, they were an escapist dream, full of relief that we had actually survived the nuclear psychosis, that the world had been made “safe for democracy”, and that liberal institutionalism had prevailed.

Add to that avocado club sandwiches, steamy cappuccinos, and the export successes of the Czech brewing industry, and the nineties begin to appear almost on par with the “roaring twenties”. The moral outcry over saxophones and Lewinsky would probably have been far less unforgiving had we only known what was to come: 9/11, George W., and Guantánamo – each contributing to the slow erosion of American democracy.

But let me return to the personal experience. For me, the nineties bring to mind long mornings at Red Hot & Blues in Prague: mornings of imagined expatriate bliss with California omelettes, the International Herald Tribune, and warm rays of sunlight filtering through the glass roof of the winter-garden patio. And in that sense, the long nineties are, as a close friend of mine often insists, still here. As the outside world has once again grown more threatening, we continue to seek out these safe havens: Café Einstein in Berlin, L’Express in New York, or even our own Scandinavian euro-latte empire.

Of course, it is all fake, real ontological security does not come in the shape of bagels. But as I sit down, allowing me the indulgence of an Espresso House breakfast while reading about Rawls and our Duty to Posterity, I know that I am still living the dream.