The pervasive sentiment of fear, culpability, and scarcity prevents us from appropriately addressing the issue of people who have been displaced. During the Republican National Convention in July, many delegates brandished signs advocating ‘Immediate Large-Scale Deportation.’ The Republican presidential nominee, Donald Trump, often included misinformation about immigrants as part of his campaign strategy. The following personal contemplation is a piece of a series titled ‘Turning Points,’ where authors delve into key events of the year and examine their potential implications for the upcoming one. A significant turning point: the distinct right-leaning shift on immigration matters by the voters of the United States in the recent presidential election.
‘Deport them all right away.’ This was the central message on numerous posters displayed at a sunny-day rally for the Republican presidential candidate, and the subsequent president-elect, Donald Trump. Not far behind, Britain was consumed with anti-immigrant uproar as right-wing extremists, incited by a belief that a Muslim immigrant caused child murders, instigated riots in multiple cities across the country (the suspected perpetrator was, in fact, a UK native and raised in Christian faith). For many, refugees and migrants represent a crisis, threatening their homes and way of life — but could the issue lie not with the newcomers hoping to make a new home, rather with us, the ones welcoming or denying them?
My usage of ‘us,’ brought with ambiguity. By technicality, I am part of ‘them.’ Once a refugee, I was born to refugee parents. Despite having a home of my own and holding American citizenship, I identify myself in spirit with ‘them’. Much like other displaced people, the memory of my own displacement, of being treated as someone worth less than a full human, is still fresh in my mind. However, it’s true, some refugees seek to wipe away that traumatic past, to the extent that they now oppose others striving to seek refuge across borders.
Ironically, some refugees, or their descendants, join the clamor of other nationals demanding restrictions on newcomers. The argument they provide is ‘We were the suitable refugees, while these contemporary newcomers are offenders and illegal. We migrated through legitimate channels.’ There’s a need to acknowledge that what’s considered legal can often be subjective, shaped by those who hold power to their own benefit.
Overstepping the intricate layers of immigration laws — number of admissions, provision of temporary permits or guest workers, potential amnesty or criminalization — there persists an enduring question that provokes the push towards constructing border walls and rejecting migrants and refugees. The central issue lies in the deep-seated psychology of fear, blame, and scarcity. It acts as a dark core within the phobia towards refugees and migrants, leading to the manipulation of just policy discussions, avoidance of accepting our own shortcomings, and the image that ‘they’, the strangers, pose a risk to ‘us’, reflecting what we might have inflicted on ‘them’.
Often, the debate surrounding immigration and displaced peoples is clouded by emotional reactions and lacks rationality. These visceral responses are often rooted in a deep-seated fear of the unknown combined with an instinctive need to blame ‘others.’ The extreme right-wing movements we’ve been witnessing in politics reveal how these fears and biases have been manipulated and exacerbated to induce mass hysteria.
The fear behind the phobia for refugees and migrants is grounded on worry of scarcity of resources, changing cultural norms, demographic shift, and threat to national identity and security. The truth is, policies surrounding these issues are complex, involving a variety of factors, from international relations to economic disparities. Straightforward solutions are rarely achievable, and it’s here that fear-based politics cause harm by fostering simplistic narratives around ‘them’ and ‘us.’
Perceived ‘illegality’ of immigrants often roots back to the confusing and ever-changing laws of immigration, designed and implemented by those in power. The notions of ‘legal’ and ‘illegal’ are closely tied to power dynamics, often serving as tools of maintaining control over minority groups. The system, as it stands, contributes to a simplistic dichotomy between ‘good’ immigrants who came through ‘proper’ channels, and ‘bad’ ones who sidestepped the law, without appreciating the nuanced reality behind why people move in the first place.
The fear experienced by many in receiving countries centers around the belief that their lives, their communities, their cultures, are under attack. The scarcity model has contributed to this feeling, where people perceive resources as finite and fear that newcomers might deplete what’s already there. This fear is a projection of their own insecurities, their concerns about their place in the world, onto others who are simply seeking to survive.
Talking about refugees and migrants also brings into perspective our own biases and prejudices. It is important to realize the role that our own personal and cultural history plays in contributing to refugee and migrant phobia. Perception towards ‘others’ are often more reflective of our own fears and insecurities than the realities of those we fear.
Fear is a powerful motivator, but it can be destructive when driven by misinformation or prejudice. It can create a significant divide between communities, cause irrational behaviors, and hinder progress in addressing crucial issues. In our world today, it is more important than ever to separate genuine security concerns from irrational fears grounded in xenophobia or misinformation.
What’s interesting to note is how some refugees, once settled, mirror the fear-driven sentiments of their host nations and join them in their rhetoric against newcomers. This may, in part, capture their desire to fit in or avoid standing out. Either way, it’s an uncomfortable echo of the very behavior that might have forced them to seek refuge originally.
This isn’t to deny the complexity or the challenges involved in accepting and integrating newcomers. However, falling prey to a fear-based narrative that portrays all foreigners as potential threats is not only harmful but also oversimplifies the issues at hand. We must acknowledge the complexity of these issues instead of subscribing to a us-versus-them mentality.
For true and effective change to occur, we must root our discussion around migration in empathy and facts, not hysteria and fear. Recognizing our role in the creation of the current crisis, accepting our past mistakes, and committing to address them with fairness and dignity would guide us towards a more hopeful, inclusive future.
The main focus of the immigration debate needs to be on establishing a fair, realistic and effective policy that addresses the heart of the issue – not by perpetuating fear and blame, but by acknowledging our shared responsibility towards our fellow humans. The complexity of the situation calls for sustainable and long-term solutions, not simple narratives that pit one group against another for political gain.