The young and the stateless

All my life I have been exposed to the rhetoric of the importance of being ‘loyal’ to the land I belong to. My NIC and passport are the instruments through which the world acknowledges my existence and identity. But what if adverse conditions force me to leave this ‘haven’? Who will I then be?

The terms ‘refugee’ or ‘stateless person’ are quite fascinating, primarily because they challenge the basis of the concept of nationalism, and yet reinforce it. Even if you have been living in a place for more than half your life, your place of origin will always be an integral part of your identity. Displacement, as a concept, is not a new one. The Rohingya community in Burma and Biharis in Bangladesh are just a few examples of the people who have faced persecution in their respective countries and have inevitably become ‘stateless’. The current crisis in Syria is no different.

The United Nations’ 70th General Assembly session went back and forth on the burgeoning issues in Syria. Allegations were hurled and promises to fight terrorism were made. Since April, when 400 migrants drowned in the Mediterranean, the European Union governments have held several emergency meetings in response to the atrocities faced by the refugees.

The crisis has caused a stir in European politics. There have been disagreements over the quota of refugees each country should be allocated and German Chancellor Angela Merkel has faced backlash over her stance on the crisis. However, what remains missing is the narrative of thousands of people who had to flee their country in search of ‘asylum’. In our obsession with numbers, we tend to overlook the fact that we are discussing real people.

Germany expects to receive 80,000 asylum requests this year. This is not merely a figure; it is the reality of 80,000 stateless people who will continue to carry the tag of ‘Syrian refugees’ all their lives. ‘Refugees are a burden on our economy’ is a manifestation of the deep-rooted xenophobia many people have developed over time.

How do we ensure the psychological and social well-being of people coming from a war-torn state? Will we even care about them once they move to other countries? True, those who are granted asylum will, at least, not be living in constant fear of being persecuted, bombed or attacked, and might have some semblance of normalcy in the new land. But what they can never get rid of is the sense of dislocation thrust upon them because no one will ever let them forget it.

Published in The Express Tribune, October 20^th, 2015.