The Wanderer Who Came Back: Milan's Journey Through Borders and Beliefs
Milan Babík grew up in Šumperk, a town in Moravia. In the mid-1990s, he packed his bags and headed to an American boarding school on a scholarship. That decision changed everything. He later studied at Colby College in Maine, then moved on to the London School of Economics and eventually the University of Oxford. Nearly three decades passed before he returned to Central Europe. These days, he teaches international relations at Prague's Anglo-American University. He also recently published his first novel, written in Czech.
People often ask him where he feels most at home. His answer surprises many. Milan says he feels comfortable in Midcoast Maine, in Oxford, in London, and now in Prague. He belongs wherever he happens to be living. At the same time, he admits that each move also left him feeling like he did not quite fit in. Being everywhere meant belonging nowhere in a special kind of way.
When it comes to education, Milan has strong opinions shaped by years of comparison. He watched students in Czech schools memorize facts without ever learning why those facts mattered. The system, he explains, follows a strict top-down approach. Rules and mandatory curricula leave little room for students to explore what genuinely interests them. In contrast, his American schooling asked one simple question first: what do you actually want to learn? He discovered that genuine curiosity makes for the most powerful learning tool imaginable. Czech schools are slowly changing, but Milan believes they still have a long way to go.
One chapter of his life still weighs on him. Milan briefly served as director of the Václav Havel Library. He took the job because he had spent years in the United States sharing Havel's ideas about democracy and freedom. He wanted to help protect that legacy. Instead, he encountered serious internal problems that he still does not fully understand. He left after a very short time. Milan describes the experience as sobering, sad, and deeply humbling in a painful way. He openly wonders whether everyone involved with the library truly cared about Havel's vision or whether other motives were at play.
Living through decades of American politics gave Milan a unique perspective on democracy today. He argues that current political turmoil feels fundamentally different from past periods of conflict. Why? Technology has completely reshaped how people receive and process information. It has become nearly impossible to distinguish what is真实 from what is manufactured. Milan also points out that Europe can no longer assume the United States will handle its security indefinitely. The continent needs to make its own arrangements for the future.
Despite discussing so many heavy topics, Milan ends with unexpected optimism. He does not look to politicians or institutions for hope. Instead, he points to something much closer and simpler: everyday connections with his children, his family, and his friends. He believes people should stop endless online arguments and start building stronger local communities. Working together on real problems matters far more than winning keyboard battles.