On White Charity in Lesvos: Part 1

Barber Bilal cutting his friend’s hair at the Better Days for Moria camp

Previously, in the launch of ‘On White Charity in Lesvos’, I spoke quite broadly of the prevalence and perpetuation of Western self-righteousness in charity work. This is seen in the way that we, as volunteers, work, interact, carry ourselves and portray ourselves. The launch piece linked above will provide context for this follow-up.

I want to try and offer a more practical narrative of how we, often subconsciously, fall into these damaging notions, and how we might challenge them. Specifically, in this piece, I want to look at how we work and thereby interact with those we come with the intention of helping: in this case, non-Westerners attempting to make their way to Europe in a world that consistently tells them that they are not worthy enough to walk on Western shores.

As volunteers working on the very front lines of these Western shores, we are in a position to reject the mindset that has infested the conditions of both refugees and us. More so than that, I believe we have a responsibility to do so because, as Westerners, this mindset of comparable worthiness directly benefits us.

Our mere presence as volunteers attempting to help alleviate this humanitarian crisis, having perhaps given up jobs or holidays, enables us to take steps towards challenging the conditioning to which we have all been exposed. Particularly, we bear witness to the true stories and the incredible resilience of these humans, all of which contradicts the ways in which they are largely portrayed throughout the West.

But I believe we must reach further. To be clear, that’s not to diminish the work that has been done by volunteers, which, particularly at a grassroots level, has been monumental in strengthening the processes of this mass migration, while holding the bigger NGOs, organisations, and authorities to account for their work. It is just that it is important to realise that it is not just our work that is important — it is the ways in which we carry out this work.

If we don’t challenge the very causes of these humanitarian crises in our responses to them, namely a perpetuation of white/Western supremacy and self-righteousness, then we will simply move from crisis to crisis. Never forget that the West makes these decisions, to criminalise refugees, in our name. On our behalf. As the people who realise that this perpetuation is fundamentally and morally wrong, who aren’t depraved by the power that it supposedly brings us, moving from crisis to crisis to help alleviate the consequences on a superficial level will simply exhaust us, and non-Westerners will continue to suffer both in mind and in body.

As I mentioned in my launch article: those that are fleeing to the West also suffer from this prevailing colonial mindset, a life-long conditioning of oppression for the sin of being born in the wrong place with the wrong skin colour, practicing the wrong religion and speaking the wrong language.

The lengths they have to go to just to reach Western shores ensure that they remain in this mindset, of feeling unworthy, even as they heroically reach the beaches of Lesvos and other European fronts. And that is why we must reach further, and focus also on how we work and interact: while our presence on the beaches and the islands and at other points along the migration trail help challenge our own mindsets of prejudice that the media and many other forces have weighed upon us, we must work harder to ensure that we create an environment where they too can challenge their own mindsets of forced oppression.

At all times during their journey, refugees, in fleeing to the West, are dehumanised and robbed of all dignity. They are bombed from their homes, blocked at borders, left with only that which they can carry on their backs. They are forced to buy fake lifejackets, cast away in overloaded boats, and beaten by Turkish coastguards on the way out. They are forcibly arrested, criminalised, denied their rights, and packed into camps serving mouldy food and with no services to speak of. All the while, they read news of Europe’s despicable bickering over this issue, hearing themselves being talked of as if they were chips on a poker table. They have suffered but largely endured traumatic situation after traumatic situation.

Our responsibility, then, through the ways in which we work, is to, as far as possible, restore human dignity to these people. Where we can, we have to return their control over their situations.

I think that this is the most vitally important point that I have discovered in my short two-and-a-half months here. We are not here to make other humans reliant on us — we are here to help them help themselves, to facilitate an environment where they may regain some semblance of control over their situation, where they may regain some semblance of dignity and choice; we are here to provide a space that fortifies their resilience so that they may remain steadfast when we inevitably have to say goodbye, given our privilege of being able to hop on a plane and fly home at any point while they struggle onwards. We are here to help them be in a position from which they can move forward.

The idea of returning control and restoring dignity is a central short-term coping strategy designed to alleviate the trauma that is consistently suffered at all parts of the refugee’s journey. As volunteers, we do not have the time nor the capacity to offer professional psychological help that is so desperately needed for many of these people; cautiously, it has been noted that “refugees in transit have emotional coping mechanisms that allow them to continue onwards.”

This is not to discount the serious lack of mental healthcare that can be and is offered in these transit places, which, as covered in the article linked above, is often ignored in amongst seemingly more pressing issues. It is just the reality of the place in which we operate: “working with refugees in such short timeframes meant that alleviating the symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder was often the best they could hope for.”

The provision of basic needs can help serve this purpose, while also empowering the refugees to regain control and dignity: we provide shelter, food, clothes, love, basic medical services, and the latest information available so that refugees are properly informed about routes and asylum processes and the chances of moving forward.

I have seen, for the most part, camps like Better Days for Moria embody this idea. Remaining fluid in its structure, adapting to constantly changing circumstances, providing an environment instead of forcing an agenda. It rose to fill a gap where the authorities so desperately failed, allowing refugees to decide for themselves what to make of it and what to take out of it before continuing on their journey. Better Days for Moria allowed them to choose control and dignity.

The minute we try to force our assistance, towards an agenda or a political standpoint for our own purposes, is the minute we subconsciously place ourselves above the refugees. We are saying: ‘we will decide what you need. You will do it our way.’ We are thereby exploiting our relationship as a helper. The minute we exaggerate our skills, make false promises or disseminate false information or rumours, is the minute we are doing a disservice to our presence in alleviating this crisis.

We are not here to show pity for them, on their behalf. Pity lacks respect and that further robs them of their dignity. It enforces our supposed superiority, in the mindsets of both the refugees and us.

Essentially, we must respect people’s right to make their own decisions. The worse we can do is assume that they are unable to. We have to be continually aware that we come with a pre-defined set of biases and prejudices, as a result of our own conditioning. This is not simply discounted because we have reached out to help alleviate this crisis — it takes more than that. We have to overcome our pre-conceived mindsets of superiority. It may be hard work, yes, though it is nothing compared to the challenge of overcoming mindsets of oppression.

To end, I have to admit that I don’t personally know exactly what ‘overcoming our pre-conceived mindsets of superiority’ looks like. I haven’t got there yet. I would struggle to believe many from the West have. What I do know is that this objective is absolutely imperative if we are to reach a point where crises such as this one no longer occur, from causation to consequence.