Hate hurts, humanity helps
“I was in Lybia for 8 months. I worked for 4 months. The first month I was paid 200 dollars, the second month I was paid the same and the last two months I was no paid. Lybia is lawless. People carry weapons they can do whatever they like with them. I was not sure what to do. There was nothing for me. No school, no work, no money. I went to the white people, the ones for the boat. To come to Italy they asked 500Euro. I was taken to a house. It looked like one but was a very large walled courtyard. There were 1500 people or so. We were all squashed together. I was there for 5 months waiting for my turn. The heat was unbearable. Every two weeks you see someone die. Everyday, I asked when I could leave and the answer was tomorrow. I had nothing. I gave all my money to these people. So if I die, I die. I was 9 hours on the boat. Not everyone made it. The boat went down and we were rescued by the Italian navy.”- Abdul, Naples, Italy.
Photo Cinzia D’Ambrosi 2016
A couple of years ago, when it seemed that the “refugee crisis” in the Mediterranean was at its height, I was working for the international development department of a large UK-focused charity. Being a household name charity, concerned members of the public would often get in touch to offer practical support, like blankets, whenever a major story of disaster or tragedy or injustice peaked in the mainstream media. We had developed a response that more or less said:
“Thank you for your generous offer, we don’t have the facilities to deal with donations of goods, you could give your hand knitted blanket to one of our charity shops or we could put you in touch with a charity that does take donations of goods to give to people in need. If you would like to make a cash donation then that would mean we could support our colleagues working on the ground. I can take a donation now if you have your credit or debit card to hand . . . . “
This was the proper, professional response. It was truthful and we told ourselves we were being efficient and effective in our roles. We knew the importance of systems and accountability and transparency and financial probity. We couldn’t expect all of our supporters, or members of the public, to understand how the system works and that we had to make judgements about who to help and how to help them. This was our job.
At about this point I began to reflect on what could be the most appropriate response to people who were reaching out to us to help them help others. We were taking a professional stance but it seemed inadequate to the horror of the situation faced by people in the Mediterranean and deflected the key fundamental question that lies beneath all of the responses (legal, charitable, governmental, political) to desperate situations involving human migration — where is our humanity?
I attempted to engage colleagues in the organisation and within the NGO network in conversations about how best to respond to stories about the desperate situation refugees were in as they made their way from Afghanistan, Eritrea, Sudan and Syria to cross the Mediterranean in dangerous, unseaworthy vessels. How do we respond to stories of the violence meted out by traffickers, paramilitary groups, government bureaucrats and the occasional media journalist? What generates our sense of injustice?
Through the few conversations I had I came to realise that the nature and extent of the refugee situation as it was being played out in the Mediterranean posed a fundamental question about our common humanity. No great surprise there but it was generally assumed that we should respond as we would to a natural disaster like an earthquake, a hurricane or a volcano that threatened lives and livelihoods. But this was different. I wanted us to have a discussion that enhanced our collective consciousness. I wanted to have conversations with the ordinary members of the public who called in to say –“This is how I want to help because it is what I can do. This situation has touched my humanity and I want to give something that soothes their pain and mine.” So, a way of building solidarity around a consideration of a terrible situation. One that is quite easy to see could apply to any of us, regardless of where we live and what our circumstances are.
Can this extend beyond those who are perhaps predisposed to caring about humanity to the politicians and the bureaucrats who regulate the official response to the flow of refugees in to Europe?
Cinzia D’Ambrosi’s photo project — Hate Hurts — poses that question and asks us to consider the way that the EU’s failure to manage the refugee situation effectively, fairly and humanely has “increased violence, push-backs (the illegal practice of forcibly sending back asylum seekers once they cross a border) and abusive practise by organised criminals, those with links to the far right and institutional violence, most often carried out by European security forces.”
She points out in the text to accompany her crowdfunder for this work that governments have tapped into populations’ security, cultural identity and economic fears to gain support for nationalism, increased border controls and clampdowns on civil liberties. This much we know, but what can we do about it?
We need an informed, ongoing discussion about how to manage the influx of refugees that addresses the injustices they face throughout their journeys and when they confront the asylum system that is based on an acceptance of our common humanity.
Argi has escaped from Kobani in Syria with his family after he was tortured by the regime and feared for his life. Unable to cross the border at Idomeni, he and his wife have found a little space to shelter just outside the doors of what once was an operating lift in the disused airport Hellenikon. This is how I met them when I entered the building hiding from the security. Still walking in crutches, he shows me graphic pictures of the violence inflicted on him. Visibly traumatised with his wife pregnant and children, he has not received any assistance ever since they arrived in Hellenikon over two weeks earlier. — Hellenikon, Greece.
Photo Cinzia D’Ambrosi 2015
Cinzia is making a powerful contribution through her commitment to the Hate Hurts project. If the crowdfunder is successful she will be able to complete the work and produce a public exhibition to stimulate debate about the issues in Hungary, one of the countries where refugees face some of the greatest challenges and most egregious abuse.
Please make a donation to help her complete her project. I have.
