Privilege, justice and kindness

Later this week, on Friday June 20th, many institutions and organisations around the world that work on refugee related issues will commemorate the World Refugee Day. The idea of the World Refugee Day started in 2001 to mark the 50th anniversary of the 1951 Geneva Refugee Convention. This year we find ourselves in the midst of several challenges. On one end is seemingly endless conflict in many parts of the world. On the other, there is a greater concern about the future of institutions that focus on the issues facing refugees and migrants - including structures within the UN system. UN High Commission for Refugees is facing serious cuts, and some recent reports indicate that the entire office dedicated to health and migrants within the World Health Organization may disappear altogether.

Facing these headwinds, arguments by individuals and institutions are being put forward about why we should care about those who are forcibly displaced due to conflict, persecution, xenophobia and climate change. A common argument is that refugees are good for the economy. That they contribute to job creation, they work hard, and they do work in sectors that other 'locals' may not be interested in. These arguments are often backed up by economic data. I have never been a fan of this line of thinking. I worry that this argument reduces our humanity. If we only look at who is good for the economy, should a refugee who is an elderly person, or a child, or has some disability be crossed off our lists? Is our empathy tied exclusively to who is 'productive' and 'good for us'?

I was traveling in South Africa last week and have been thinking about the issue of privilege and justice. At a museum in Durban, I was reminded, again, about the injustice and horrors of apartheid. Alongside countless Blacks, Indians and coloured persons of South Africa who stood up against the evil system, there were also white citizens from all sectors of society who were privileged, not subjected to the racist laws, and in principle could have benefitted from the segregationist system. There were church goers, among the Dutch Reform Church in South Africa, who found the position of their church to be morally indefensible and stood up for justice and human dignity. These people, alongside their black, coloured and south Asian community members, paid a very heavy price for their moral compass. Their struggle, and their rejection of the privileged system that was ensuring their economic success, was not in vain. In a divided world of exclusion and injustice for many who suffer, but stable, enabling and fertile for those of us who are privileged, the museum reminded me once again to ask ourselves - what does justice and human dignity demand of us? Are we brave enough to stand up for a fairer world? Does our privilege deny others their basic humanity?

Perhaps there is a different way to think about forced displacement. Whether or not one has technically been a refugee or not (since the term has a specific legal connotation), we all have benefitted from the kindness of others in difficult times; others who owed us nothing, or did not ask if we would be good for their financial future. Many of us have had family members or loved ones who had to leave a home, a town or a country overnight. Think of the partition, 1971 or many other events of the past. These loved ones were helped not just by family, but by strangers - who did not have to help them, but they did anyway. Those who helped gave up something - their time, their money, part of their home or something else. But their sacrifice, small as it may have been, was not in vain. It saved an individual or a family from harm.

History reminds us that no one knows when one may have to flee their home and leave in the middle of the night. And should that happen to us, how would we want to be treated? What kind of a world would we want to live in? Maybe we should ask ourselves, what is stopping us from creating that world?