I don’t know much about political science, and I don’t know much about the formation of legislation or executive orders. I trust my ability to understand someone’s struggle more than my ability to derive sense from a multitude of facts in complex systems pulling everyone’s conceptions of values and ethics in different directions. Maybe I’ll have no answer for how to best grant thousands refugees asylum while protecting this country from fear of the threat of terror. Yet for the people looking for nothing more basic than a safe place to live and who have finally passed through what appears to be an already grueling vetting process (Links to an external site.), there is clearly an opportunity where support can be given that does not conflict with values, mine at least, as far as I can tell.
There are refugees and survivors here already. I hope that, despite the attention and suspicion backing the travel ban and immigration, these people, the majority of whom came to find safety, will continue to feel safe and be able to adjust to a new life given an impossible transition from their past.
Although not exclusively focused on refugees coming to the United State, a PBS documentary titled Exodus (Links to an external site.), released just this past December, tells the moving first-person stories of individuals fleeing Syria, Afghanistan, and Gambia, crossing sea and desert alone or with family, to reach what they hope will be a “promised land” in Europe. There is a daughter too young to watch for her family the way a mother would, who sheds tears remembering the death of young children too cold and waiting for too long at a checkpoint trying to gain entry to Turkey. “Put it out of your mind,” her father says to her, and perhaps this is the only thing she can do until it’s safe enough to remember again. There is a son, become father for his siblings after their father passed away, who sets out to leave in search of a better life for all of them. His siblings are crying but his eyes are wide open, lips pressed together, as he listens to the last advice his mother has for him: “Whatever you do, just have one intention. On land and sea, you must have the same goal. Respect people.”
My life is short, and there is only so much I can do. I don’t know about the future. I can act on what I see now, give aid or an ear to those who are struggling and need help right now. Maybe different people have different orientations toward how they choose to help. Some people look toward the crucial details, the caveats, and the consolidation of complexity to find resolution. Some people get the dialogues started, the conversation going, the expanding consciousness and the questioning and evolving development of values. Some people get their boots on the ground, pedal to the metal, hands in the thick of things. Some people give financially. Some people learn, try to understand, and simply embrace the challenge of just that. Some people do all of these. I don’t think any of these is greater than another.
I suppose the question is what do we do, as individuals, when we know how much we are given that we never asked for? What do I do with the responsibility of having the knowledge that, at the most basic level, right now, I am safe, and others are not? How will I choose to deal with ethics, anxiety, freedom, death, and love? While I ask myself these questions, there are thousands of people grappling with their own values and deciding that freedom and a safe place to live are worth risking their dignity, their homes, their livelihood, and their own peace of mind.
Anticipating a new executive order to be revealed next week concerning the travel ban, here are some more words of wisdom from Exodus. From a mother: “Always be in the middle of things, don’t be on the outside.” From a father: “The duty is on every human being to help each other in this crisis. Put religion to the side. Humanity is more important.”
Jasmine, I absolutely love the questions that you are asking.
“When we know how much we are given that we never asked for? What do I do with the responsibility of having the knowledge that, at the most basic level, right now, I am safe, and others are not? How will I choose to deal with ethics, anxiety, freedom, death, and love?”
I think that for me those questions are really real. I feel as if I have lived a lot of my life just watching, but also living from a very safe distance the violence in the Middle East. And I think maybe that spurred my ability to empathize with other people. But, to go back to your question I think that most people automatically feel guilty and I understand that thats a very normal reaction to have to situations of privilege, but I believe that we need to move past that. It’s not just about realizing that we are living in different situations, but for me, at least it has been trying to find our common humanity. At least thats how I approach dialogue with Afghans and Penn State students. It is one thing for us to feel pity for people, and a complete other thing for us to understand that we could be those people.
More and more I am seeing how the discussion of letting refugees in or not, is based almost entirely on the fact that they are muslim. What does Islam even mean? To what extent is the representation of Islam in the West serving to validate the way it already views people of another culture, ideology, and race? Thats to me what it seems to be, the Wests image of the Middle East and Islam are completely unfounded, at least in my experience as both Arab and Muslim. So what does that mean? How is this supposed deep cultural divide serving the political interests of people in power right now as we as a civil society continue to marginalize and repress people of color?
Hi Jasmine,
This one line, “…what do we do, as individuals, when we know how much we are given that we never asked for? What do I do with the responsibility of having the knowledge that, at the most basic level, right now, I am safe, and others are not?” really stuck with me after reading your post. I think we hold a lot of responsibility as individuals who are lucky enough to go to college in the United States, have families who (hopefully) support us, and to have our basic needs met. I know college students still struggle a lot, and it’s not fair to say that everyone who is at Penn State, or anywhere else, is privileged, but we are privileged, regardless of our situations, because we are at an institution that is going to give us an easy path towards a job and towards learning how to excel in the modern world.
I don’t have to worry every day about when the next time I’m going to eat is or if I’ll have a place to sleep tonight–I have all of that. My basic needs are met, but what is my responsibility towards those whose basic needs are not met? I wholly agree that it is our duty, as human beings, to help others. Privilege is a word that gets thrown around a lot but the fact that we were lucky enough to be born into a world where we do not struggle for food, water, shelter, or comfort, is a huge privilege and the only way we can thank the world for being so lucky is to help those who aren’t.
Great post!!
Hi Jasmine! Great post, and wonderfully empathetic thoughts. Something that I, and several of my peers have struggled with at different points in our college careers is how to deal with emotions when things need to get done.
I see an uncanny thought disproportionate parallel between the young Syrian girl having to “put the thoughts out of her mind” in order to continue pressing forth on her journey, and peers of mine who have lost loved ones and had to push it to the side to keep going with the pressures of school. When are we meant to weep then? Emotions are never convenient–they emerge in response to stimuli…yet we stifle them until we feel there is a convenient time to unpack them; sometimes, even forgetting to do so, and collapsing under the weight as they unpack themselves.
Thanks for your thoughts!
Hi Jasmine! I’m in the sophomore class and I really enjoyed reading this blog post. It reveals your careful inspection of this entire issue, forming a framework for the reader to follow and digest how you’ve processed the recent executive order, yet letting the reader form his/her own thoughts on the matter. The paragraph you included regarding different ways of giving and how one method doesn’t rule above the others really spoke to me. It truly is about whether or not we take action, not necessary which type of action we take. The entire refugee debate has grown nasty and I hope more people really take the time to delve into it, not to argue or take sides, but to see what can be done. Even if someone supports the travel ban on grounds of self-preservation (which isn’t necessarily a bad motive), they must wrestle with their own conscience on whether or not they can find a way to give help without conflicting with their stance. I look forward to reading more of your blogs in the future!