Tag: Borders

• Invisible Politics

  April 6, 2016 10:40 am Comments Off on Invisible Politics

  In 2015, an estimated 38 million people were internally displaced around the globe – 18 million people were refugees and 1.8 million were asylum seekers. And yet, one word can explain the horrific lack of action by international leaders that leaves far too many without the necessary assistance; that word is politics. Indeed, the invisible, but very real, force of politics continues to prevent effective action, and when effective action does somehow eventuate, politics is the force that brings it to a halt. It is undeniably chilling that what should be a social issue is now warped by the realm of politics, where the national interests of states contend with obvious moral duties to protect human rights, and more significantly, human lives.

  Since the outbreak of civil war in 2011, the devastation in Syria has provoked what the International Organization for Migration (IOM) has labelled as the “biggest movement of people since World War Two.” In May 2015, the United Nations estimated more than 4 million Syrian refugees had fled the country, and around 8 million were internally displaced. In March 2015, 12 million were considered in need of humanitarian assistance, including around 5.6 million children. By May, this had risen to 15 million. As UN action was, as has become all too typical, far too slow in dealing with the crisis on hand, many of these refugees were forced to put their lives in the hands of people smugglers crossing the Mediterranean, in the hope of reaching safety in Europe.

  It was in October 2013, when 366 migrants perished at sea, that the Italian Government responded by launching Operation Mare Nostrum. The fleet, consisting of an amphibious assault carrier (capable of landing rescue helicopters), two frigates and five patrol vessels at any one time, rescued 150,000 migrants and arrested 330 people smugglers in its one year of operation. However, opposition within Italy grew as opposition throughout Europe became vocalised. The British Government labelled the program as “an unintended pull factor,” believing it encouraged migrants to take the perilous journey. The Italian Government had also been neglecting to abide by the Dublin Regulations (obligations which EU members must adhere to in regards to the asylum seeker application process) in not fingerprinting and properly examining all rescued migrants. By October 2014, pressure from the European Union had mounted to the point where the Italian Government was forced to abandon the program.

  Instead, the EU established Operation Triton, presenting it as a superior alternative to Operation Mare Nostrum. However, Triton received far fewer resources and only one third of the budget. Most importantly, it did not include the active search and rescue component that was a crucial feature to the success of Mare Nostrum. Ultimately, the number of those crossing the Mediterranean has continued to increase, with the UN documenting 219,000 in 2014, which increased to more than 300,000 in 2015. This trend suggests that the removal of Mare Nostrum has not reduced the ‘pull factor’ at all.

  As the politics of the European Union left many refugees helpless, many in Syria were forced to flee to neighbouring countries. However, unlike European states, countries like Lebanon, Jordan and Turkey are not equipped to deal with such an enormous crisis, as they are lacking resources and funds to effectively host the flow of millions of refugees. As of 2016, more than a quarter of the Lebanese population is comprised of Syrian refugees, prompting the government to call on the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) to halt refugee registration. This achieved little, however, as thousands still flow into the country. In Jordan, more than one in thirteen people are now Syrian refugees. As of May 2015, Turkey had taken in 1.6 million refugees from Syria, the most of any state. Such mass movement of people to these countries have significantly burdened domestic economies, and for the refugees, they are left stranded in camps with limited food, water and necessary resources.

  Looking closer to home, it is since 1982 that ethnic Rohingyas, a Muslim minority, have been refused citizenship by the Buddhist Burmese government, which denies their existence altogether. Within the country, more than 140,000 are estimated to be internally displaced, and local authorities severely limit access to NGOs to provide aid. Decades of this social and institutional discrimination has forced many Rohingyas to flee Myanmar, a phenomenon which has escalated a great deal in the past few years. Between 2013 and 2015, the UN estimated more than 120,000 Rohingyas fled the country in what it dubbed as “floating coffins.” The rate of refugees fleeing is increasing. In May 2015, 8,000 refugees were stranded in the Andaman Sea, which finally prompted some response from the South Asian Pacific region.

  On the 29th of May, officials from various regional states, including Australia, attended the Special Meeting on Irregular Migration in the Indian Ocean, hosted in Bangkok, with the objective of attaining a multilateral solution to the crisis. The Burmese Government continued to reject all accusations that it was to blame for the crisis. When the then Prime Minister Tony Abbott was asked whether Australia would offer resettlement to some of the refugees, he replied “nope, nope, nope.” Both Malaysia and Indonesia, however, agreed to provide humanitarian assistance to 7,000 migrants. Ironically, Australia is one of the few states in the region to have signed the 1951 Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees and the 1967 Protocol, yet the government continues to forgo the obligations it has agreed to. Article 33 of the Convention establishes the principle of non-refoulement, where a state party may not return a refugee to a location where they may face persecution. Article 31 declares the right for refugees not to be punished for the illegal entry into the territory of a contracting state.

  Australia continues to violate these obligations with its ‘Stop the Boats’ policy, whereby the Navy has repeatedly and forcibly turned back boats, and with the functioning of offshore detention facilities. Amidst the talks in Bangkok, a spokesperson for the Indonesian Foreign Ministry called out the Australian government in stating those who sign treaties have an obligation to believe in what they sign. A final shocking twist in events was the Abbott Government’s decision to pledge $5 million (AUD) to the government of Myanmar.

  Australian migration policy since the beginning of the 21st Century has ceaselessly abandoned moral duties to refugees in a clear preference for border security. Still, this year, the migrant crisis in the South Pacific continues, and though initial aid from Malaysia and Indonesia was promising, 26 NGOs report that 70% of migrants in Malaysian refugee camps have no access to safe water.

  Can we be hopeful that states will begin to opt for moral obligations rather than political interests? Only months into 2016, it is yet to be seen whether countries capable of effective action will finally take initiative. The Italian Government proved that successful resolution is definitely in the realm of possibility. Indeed, even Germany, which had once favoured the establishment of offshore processing centres in Northern Africa, resembling Australian centres on Nauru and Manus Island, has now led the way in Europe for resettlement. In August 2015, the government agreed to suspend the ‘Dublin Regulations.’ A month later, Chancellor Merkel assigned €6 billion to emergency aid and promised an intake of 800,000 refugees by the end of the year. In November, German newspaper ‘Die Welt’ declared that more than 950,000 asylum seekers had entered the country in 2015.

  Other EU states, however, continue to act in the interest of border security. In September 2015, the Hungarian Government began erecting a 177 km long razor-wire fence along its Serbian border to prevent the flow of refugees. The horrifying popularity of Donald Trump in the ongoing US Presidential race suggests that an unfortunately significant percentage of the US population supports racist and hardline immigration policy. Perhaps most significant in the continuation of opposition to resolution is the rise of ISIS, which has allowed governments to employ the excuse of terrorism to justify border security over an obligation to refugees.

  In the meantime, whilst politics continues to interfere with resolution, refugees continue to flee persecution, continue to die at sea, and continue to live without hope.

• Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones but Words Inflict Lasting Pain

  10:29 am Comments Off on Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones but Words Inflict Lasting Pain

  Full Disclosure: I’m a straight white man. I grew up in country Australia, I went to high school in country Australia, and I now attend university in (arguably, somewhat) country Australia. Essentially, I’m the archetype of a person who needs to check their privilege; I basically embody the status quo.

  So when I tell you that – despite the above – I’ve been a victim of constant, sustained harassment and racial vilification, you’re probably harboring some serious doubts. Fair enough, let me explain.

  I graduated from my predominantly white, country-high-school-bubble life at the end of 2011 and immediately plunged myself into the vastly different environment of a Japanese high school as part of a year-long exchange student program. The goal of the exchange was lofty enough: to foster an understanding and appreciation of other cultures, customs and peoples. A sufficiently altruistic vision statement, if a little ironic to boot.

  Not given any choice about where it was I would be going, I found myself in a small country town in central Japan. There were few people who understood any English, and I met no other Caucasian people that lived nearby during the entire year. Given that Japan consists of a population that is around 99% Japanese born Japanese people this, of course, is unsurprising.

  In short, attending high school as not just the only foreigner in the school, but the only foreigner in the entire town, was a daunting challenge; but one I was confident I could be overcome.

  But then they began – the comments. The guy who sat next to me in Physics class just started out of nowhere. Not obviously aggressive, but somehow hurtful. He would constantly ask “Why are you here?” “Why did you come to Japan?” speaking in a mixture of broken English and Japanese. It wasn’t the words themselves, so much as the tone in which they were said, and the frequency with which he would them. “This is not your home” they seemed to say, “you don’t belong here, you’re not one of us”.

  While by themselves these words made me uncomfortable, I didn’t feel as though I could say anything to anyone. He wasn’t explicitly saying anything racist, so perhaps I was just imagining things. Justifications like these would surface as I would worry about the next time I had to see this guy, and I honestly started to believe myself. Maybe he just doesn’t understand? Maybe he’s never met a white person before, or heard an Australian accent? Maybe he’s just confused? I tried to ignore it, but something just seemed out of place. It kept bothering me, and it made me uncomfortable.

  And then the more aggressive stuff started. He would mutter things under his breath at me. The words were quiet and infrequent at first, but soon after they got louder, more imperative and commanding. “Go back to where you came from”. “Fuck off home”. “You don’t belong here”. “You’re a stupid foreigner”. These statements said in Japanese. Then; “You are our slave”. “You are dirty”. These statements said in English.

  This wasn’t a once off. This was an uninterrupted hour, three times a week. I started to feel ashamed of who I was, of what I was. I wished that I could be different, that I could have been born Japanese or something that this guy would approve of, or honestly anything else just so I could get him to stop. By this point, I had internalized so much of what he had said that I didn’t feel as though I could reach out to anyone. No teachers. No friends. No-one.

  Eventually, and after it escalated to him stabbing me with his pen, I went and told someone, got him admonished and the whole thing lessened. But it never fully stopped, and I never fully got over the fact that someone who had never met me decided that I was worthless based on the colour of my skin and the country of my upbringing.

  It made me think back to high school. While the school I attended was predominantly white, there was a large minority of Indigenous students, and a small minority of students from south and south-east Asia. Some of these students would experience similar things; being called FOBs (Fresh Off the Boat) and told, both jokingly and seriously, to go back to where they came from. I had never really thought much of it, sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me – that’s what my parents used to say.

  But the idea that “words will never hurt me” is bullshit. Words don’t just hurt, words inflict lasting pain onto a person. I don’t know if this guy was joking. At this point, I don’t care. I found out the hard way that words, said often enough, can be internalised and catastrophically damaging to person.

  Don’t get me wrong, on the whole I absolutely loved my year abroad, and I would absolutely go over again in a heartbeat. And of course, the vast majority of people there were not rude or racist in any way. But that doesn’t matter when all you can hear is the one voice among the many.

  The things we say to another person about their heritage, culture, skin colour, or ethnicity have a lot of unintentional power – power that increases exponentially with the societal privilege held by the person saying them. I fully and deeply appreciate and understand this now.
  It just shouldn’t have taken a first-hand experience of racial vilification for me to change my actions.

• Stop Making Me Choose Between My Nationalities: Confessions of a Third Culture Kid

  10:27 am Comments Off on Stop Making Me Choose Between My Nationalities: Confessions of a Third Culture Kid

  Whenever a World Cup rolls around and the inevitable France v Australia game comes up, I find myself getting asked the same question over and over again: “Who are you gonna go for?”

  Most of the time I avoid the question, and reply that I’m backing whoever wins, but the truth is much more complicated.

  Do I support the country where I took my first breath, the country that is the source of my mother tongue and the culture my parents raised me in as well as the receiving end of countless international calls to close and distant relatives since the age of 4?

  Or do I back the country I have grown up in, home to some of my best and worst memories, the source of opportunity after opportunity, the ground I’m standing on right now?

  I’m a Third Culture Kid (TCK). Coined by American sociologist Ruth Van Reken, the term refers to someone who was raised in a culture outside of their parents’ for a significant part of their development years, building relationships with both their original and host culture without having any real ownership of either.

  The resulting third culture, an undefined amalgamation of experiences between two worlds, is one that is becoming increasingly relevant and relatable to young people everywhere due to the onset of globalisation and transnational migration. According to researchers Paradis, Genesee and Crago, there are currently just as many bilingual children in the world as there are monolingual, and I’m sure that among the readers of this very article a significant amount are in the same boat.

  This TCK boat is one that is filled with confused loyalties from both sides; loyalties to family and politics as well as to patriotism and pop culture, clashing and coinciding in different ways.

  For TCKs with appearances that visibly contrast with the visual expectations of their identified nationality, this is a boat that is equally affected by racism and stereotypes, the question of “Where are you really from” or “Oh I thought you were ______” as well as the occasional surprised exclamation “But you speak such good English for someone from ______!”

  It makes you wonder whether national and cultural identity is really a matter of personal choice, or something outside of your control. Where is the line that separates living in France and being French, or the border between being from Australia and Australian?

  That said, lacking a clear and collective cultural identity doesn’t make TCKs global nomads or culturally homeless. Every single one will have their own unique story.

  In my case, I will always feel nostalgic for my native country, France, but I will equally always crave acceptance and seek to give back to my adopted one, Australia. And sometimes that will mean that I will resent my parents’ decision to move my sister and I out here because it means I have missed out on things like seeing my grandparents more before it was too late, or celebrating Halloween with my friends at school. But it will also mean that I will feel extremely grateful for the experience and opportunity, which has brought me a lot more than meets the eye.

  For me, and other TCKs, it has meant becoming more adaptable and open-minded. Being culturally sensitive, and aware of how to navigate the different perspectives and values of others. It has meant not falling into the traps of stereotypes and cultural expectations, because we have no set ones to reference.

  And even though I can’t name a single recent French pop hit, and I don’t think I will ever feel comfortable kissing strangers on the cheek instead of shaking their hands, I know that the rush of pride I feel whenever La Marseillaise is played is real. Likewise maybe I will never develop the tastebuds for vegemite or appreciate the Australian delicacy that is fairy bread, but I don’t think I will ever find a place where I am happier than when I am on the sunburnt side of tan and barefoot on a beach.

  So please, stop making me choose between my nationalities.
  I couldn’t even if I wanted to, and that’s really not the point.

• My Experience with Racism

  10:24 am Comments Off on My Experience with Racism

  In my life, I can say with much relief that most forms of bigotry that worm their way into our society are foreign to me. I am not a woman, nor a member of the Queer community, so the prejudice felt against them is not one I have experienced. Even in regards to racism as a white-Anglo Australian (born in the UK), I will never know what it means to be a person of colour in this country. So in that context you may ask, what would a white, English guy know about racism?

  Well, I was born into a family of deep Jewish roots and the heritage and virtue of such has made apparent to me the casual racism forever prevalent in Australia. While my immediate family are non-practicing, the religion has played an incredibly important role in defining me as a part of the culture I am from, and connecting me with the people I share it with. Like many Australians I know who can proudly trace back their ancestry to those who fought as ANZACs, or through the many cultures that now make up this multicultural nation, I too am proud to be defined by the history of my ancestors.

  For me, it is the festivals we celebrate, whether it be Passover or Hanukkah, and the family gatherings that come with them that I value. It is reconnecting with cousins, uncles and grandparents, while listening to Hebrew prayers. It is also the time we spend learning about our ancestors, like my own – four brothers who travelled from Poland to the UK at the turn of the 20th century to seek a better life. But more than this, these actions and traditions are a part of me. Acknowledging where my family has come from, and the faith they kept for all that time, to be passed down from parent to child for generations.

  It is hard, as I am sure it is for anyone, to hear something so powerful used as an insult, or treated with contempt – even more so when it is done in a carefree, casual manner. During my high school years, to be Jewish was to be considered ‘greedy’, ‘stingy’ or ‘possessive’. My friends would refer to someone as Jewish, in an attempt to insult or degrade them, after some decision involving money had been made. These statements were not some deliberate ruse to crush people of the faith from being considered equal, they were simply part of the vocabulary that had developed in high schools around Australia. Likely from the same sources that sought to make the term ‘gay’ an insult.

  Now, to say that this is the same victimisation suffered by Indigenous Australians, or those of a non-Anglo background would be a misconstruction of the truth. I have never faced institutionalised racism, nor do I ever expect I have been judged unfit based on the colour of my skin. But to say I have not experienced racism would, I feel, be an unfair characterisation. When my friends in full knowledge of the ancestor I lost in Treblinka (a Nazi concentration camp) decide it is appropriate to make Nazi salutes, and sing the national anthem of Hitler’s Germany in order to elicit a reaction from me, it is clear that casual racism is still alive and well in Australia!

  We live in a time where the Israel-Palestine conflict has claimed the lives of so many people that the causal element of the ongoing violence has been lost behind the blatant attacks of Jewish people. It is easy to understand why someone like me can see the still existent prejudice when adult men can walk onto school buses filled with Jewish children and scream at them, telling them they are going to suffer because of what happens on the other side of the world, as did just a few years ago. Or when the Socialist Alternative Group on the ANU campus receives a ban from campus for threatening the Jewish Students society with assault. Or even when a friend tells you, ‘you should apologise on behalf of all Jews to Palestine’.

  My experience of racism is not grandiose, nor is it inhibiting to my ability to live my life as I wish. Still, racism is insidious – it is not a single large gesture but the collection of tiny attacks that grind us down. This is my collection, it is what I have seen, felt, heard and lived. We all draw borders; around what we consider ourselves, what we consider important to us and what we want to protect. For me that is my Jewish heritage, my family history and the freedom to live with it and not in spite of it.

• Do I Deserve To Be Australian?

  10:21 am Comments Off on Do I Deserve To Be Australian?

  “Why aren’t you white?” she asked.

  I sat stiff-backed as the German woman casually sipped her coffee.

  It was a good question – why wasn’t I white like the last Australian exchange student she’d met?

  My conception of what it means to be Australian as an Asian is ever evolving. There’s something that messes you up a bit by being told to ‘go back to your country’ in primary school. It makes you feel like you don’t belong in Australia and are not Australian.

  Second generation Asian Australians, as good at math as the average person, have a fairly difficult time reconciling the Asian and Western parts of our identities. Australia is not simply a multicultural place where everyone exists peacefully as The ANU Marketing Department would like us to think. It’s a very personal, internal, perpetual clashing of cultures – in my case that of the East and West.

  There is a dichotomy of expectations between the Asian and Western part of the Asian-Australian experience. The Asian household expects self-sacrifice for the greater good of the family unit. You forgo personal relationships, opportunities and pleasures to uphold the instruction of your elders. Yet the everyday Australian experience celebrates individualism, passion and doing what you feel is best for you. Finding the balance between these two spheres is unique for every Asian-Australian.

  When I was younger, I always had trouble associating with those who weren’t Asian. I had grown up speaking Mandarin before English, lived in an Asian-centric suburb, 95% of my family friends were Chinese, I played the piano and violin and went to a selective school. I ticked just about every box of the Asian stereotype.

  I think it’s quite clear why I felt alienated around non-Asians. I had grown up in a microculture that made anyone but Asians foreign. I had been socialised in an environment that, ironically, wasn’t multicultural. This, in conjunction with a sprinkling of racist comments, created a murky perception of ‘how Australian’ I was.

  So, returning back to the coffee sipping German woman. I explained to her that my parents had migrated to Australia, that I was born in Australia and was Australian. That went down a treat. Who would’ve thought that is was that easy?! The construct in my mind that I was somehow different as an Asian-Australian was not so cement as I had thought.

  This was a defining moment for me. Bigoted racists exist, but their sentiments do not represent the majority of those around me, including foreigners. Racists didn’t need to affect my self-perception as an Australian. I didn’t have be the stereotyped sun-kissed-surfing-stunning-beautiful-blonde-babe in order to be Australian. My tumultuous relationship with Eastern and Western cultures did not exclude me from being Australian. What it means to be Australian is different for everyone. It’s an ever-changing perception, I know that now, and I know that I need my own declaration, and that alone, to be Australian.