Ali is my cousin. He’s also a refugee from Syria, and I
consider him a hero. Like millions of
Syrians, Ali saw war and violence overrun his village and threaten the
livelihood of every living thing. The
social and political situation had declined to such depths that the conflict
left him with only the options to kill, be killed, or flee. Ali fled, and as he made his escape from
Syria he saved lives in the process by driving a pickup truck carrying over a
dozen women and children through a warzone and delivering them safely to
Lebanon. His account of the perilous flight-by-night is the stuff of Hollywood
films. By God’s grace, and Ali’s courage
and steely nerves, lives were preserved when they should have been lost. That’s heroic.
Ali is also is a hero because of a decision he recently
made. Ali, his wife and their four
children officially became refugees shortly after arriving in Lebanon. He and many other members of my extended
family have “settled” in the Bekaa Valley where they live in tent settlements
and work menial jobs to make ends meet.
They have lost a great deal; the war robbed Ali of his home, occupation,
a brother, two uncles, many friends and acquaintances, and the opportunity for
his children to receive an official education.
And, like all refugees, he has lost his country and now finds himself a
foreigner in a land that would prefer he and all other refugees pick up and
leave (as I suspect any country would if 25% of its population consisted of
displaced people). Even so, Ali hasn’t
lost everything. He still has a family
network of support, a little patch of earth (for the time being) to raise his
family and, thanks to international organizational mechanisms, a chance to
forge new life in a safe, secure country.
When Ali’s family registered with the UN as refugees they
requested to be candidates for resettlement in a third country. It’s a long, complicated procedure for a
refugee to be resettled, and despite what may appear to be large refugee intake
quotas in Canada, America, European states and other developed nations, the
reality is that less than one percent of refugees are resettled. More than 99% remain in the legal, psychological
and effective limbo of unsettled displacement.
Like millions of others, Ali took a roll the dice to see if he could end
up in the 1%.
After initial interviews with the UN Ali’s case was picked
up by the Swiss government. The family
interviewed with the embassy and received details about resettlement. They would travel to Switzerland free of
charge and receive temporary accommodation until being assigned a permanent
residency somewhere in the country. The
government would financially support them and help Ali secure employment. The children would receive a free, top-notch
education. They would enjoy the
privileges of legally belonging to one of the world’s wealthiest countries that
boasts one of the highest quality of life standards. Upon establishing official residency they would
be able to travel internationally; however, they would not be allowed to visit
Lebanon for the foreseeable future (the logic being that if refugees require
resettlement it is because they cannot remain in their country of displacement
and, if this is the case, then returning to that very country is clearly
problematic). After the interview Ali
was told that he would be contacted about the outcome within a few weeks.
Ali and I discussed the possibility of resettlement
throughout the application process. He
shared his thinking, if it was just him he wouldn’t feel the need to start anew
somewhere else but when he thinks about his children he despairs that they are
missing out on a formal education. The
interests of his children are the weightiest variable in his decision
making. He asked me frequently about my
personal thoughts. Though I’ve never
spent time in Switzerland, I’ve lived outside of the Middle East and he wanted
to pick my mind for whatever insight I could offer. I shared my thoughts, let him know that
Switzerland is a top-notch country that offers tremendous value. At the same time I tried to shed light on
some of the challenges that I think would come with such a dramatic
change. Ali knew all along that the
chances of emigrating were slim and he never got his hopes too high, but at the
same time he never wanted to close the door to such an opportunity. He had enough weighing on his mind just
trying to get by; no need to fret over something that most likely won’t
materialize. He had peace with whatever unfolded.
The question remained for Ali, “What will I do if the Swiss
government accepts my family for resettlement?” For the vast majority of
refugees- and a large percentage of people in Middle East in general- the
decision is a no-brainer: Go to Switzerland!
Europe is a destination that millions have risked their lives journeying
over water and land to reach, and millions more are waiting to be delivered
from displacement and resettled in a new land.
Boarding a one-way flight is saying goodbye to the insecurities,
instability and abuses they have endured. Such a one-in-a-hundred opportunity is a
chance to give the next generation a future of safety, education and life. To look at it another way, saying “Yes” to
resettlement is trading one scene for the other.
What would you
choose?
I have become a rather serious student of displacement for a
number of primary reasons. Firstly, our
world is experiencing historic rates of displacement, and if I want to be a
responsible citizen of the world then I should be concerned and knowledgeable
about one of the greatest crisis of our times.
Secondly, dozens of my loved ones, like Ali, are enduring the nightmare
that is the Syrian Refugee Crisis, and their experience has made displacement
painfully real and personal to me.
Thirdly, Kids Alive Lebanon serves at-risk children and has historically
catered to the needs of displaced children (even decades before it became en vogue in the field of missions and
humanitarian aid). A number of our programs
were established to specifically serve children of displacement. Finally, I do not want to be so foolish as to
think that displacement will always be “someone else’s” problem nor so naïve as
to think that the sting will not strike my own life. Displacement attacks people and places anywhere,
and I want to prepare myself for the time if/when it undercuts my life in the
same way it is undercutting the lives of millions worldwide.
Ali’s opportunity for resettlement presented me with a new dimension
of displacement. Just as I had seen his
family become refugees, I was now seeing them face the possibility of being
settled in a third country. I
anticipated that I would possibility seem them board a flight to Switzerland
and then one day see them settled in a new life far away from Syria and
Lebanon. There was intriguing insight to
gain into the refugee’s journey, but more than anything I simply wanted to be in
a position to bless my loved ones in any way possible.
I eagerly sought out Ali on a recent trip to relatives in the
Bekaa Valley. Some weeks had passed
since the interview with the Swiss Embassy and I knew they should have been notified
them about being accepted for resettlement or not. I went to their tent and quickly asked for
the latest update. Ali told me that a
Swiss official had called the previous day and informed him that they had been
accepted for resettlement. Ali doesn’t
have a passport (most of their identification documentation were lost when they
fled) but the Swiss government would provide travel documents for the family. Plane tickets had already been booked for the
middle of November. My heart stirred when
he told me this news. It was going to
happen! A way had been made for other
Hamouds to leave a bad situation in the Middle East and settle in the West just
as it had for my father over 45 years ago.
This family was going to be changed forever. Then Ali he told me something that stirred my
heart even more. He told me that he had
replied to the Swiss official, “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Ali realizes Switzerland’s offerings. He has an idea about the opportunities that exist
in one of the most developed, secure and peaceful countries in the world. But
Ali knows other things as well. He knows
what it is like to be removed from a place and a community dear to him. He knows what it is like to have family
scattered across countries, to be blocked by boundary and distance from rushing
to a loved one in a time of need. He knows
what it is like to lose a brother and find himself a father figure to three
nephews and a niece. He knows what it
was like to see his parents grieve the loss and separation of their family. But one thing Ali has never known is what it
was like to be alone and disconnected from a community that shared a common
blood, tradition and embrace of one another.
Displacement robbed him of his home but it did not rob him of his
community, but resettlement would. Ali knows that for all Switzerland offers, it
does not offer parents, brothers and sisters, or a community where he belongs. He also knows some who had journeyed to
Europe at great risk and expense only to find themselves isolated, out of place
and frustrated (leading some even to return to refugee life in Lebanon).
Ali’s decision ultimately came down to an assessment of
values. One of the problems with our
modern world is that as we increase our estimation of the material (basic
needs, human rights, economic and environmental justice, etc..) we oftentimes decrease
our estimation of the immaterial. Ali
knows that life doesn’t boil down to being free from fear or being able to enjoy
universally endowed rights and privileges.
Life boils down to sharing the ups and downs of the journey with
meaningful people. Life is about being
in a place and among a people where the sense of belonging is greater than any
sense of want. Ali’s decision confirmed
what I have been learning to be true: the greatest need of the human heart is
to experience belonging. I believe this
is exactly why God’s greatest gift is His invitation to belong to a heavenly
kingdom that exists in this world and yet goes beyond everything in this
world. Of all the good things God
promises, the greatest promise to belong with Him forever through Christ.
My conversation with Ali was a revelation. It shed light on what it means to be displaced,
what it means to be “implaced,” and what it means to be human. It showed that while resettlement can be a
rescue that brings immeasurable good to refugees, it can also be a double
displacement that compounds suffering and isolation. Refugee resettlement is a solution that should
be both highly pursued and appropriately resisted. Like so many things, it is more complex than
straightforward. We should never reduce
the human experience to material quality nor assume that the most comfortable
situation is the best situation; the bulk of our human needs begin where our
practical needs end. In every instance
(whether we are dealing with the displaced, the poor, or anyone) we must beg
the question, “How am I helping others belong.”
My conversation with Ali quickly took on a new dimension
that neither one of us ever could have expected. Within a half an hour of our talk we received
word that a terrible accident had occurred.
A number of our family members were walking home after a trip to the
market when a car hit them. Ali’s nephew
was killed on the scene and his sister was put in critical condition with
life-threatening internal injuries. In
an instant this family and community had their world rocked. A new light was shed on everything, including
Ali’s decision. Ali had chosen to forego
resettlement partly so he could help raise his deceased brother’s children, and
within a day of that decision one of them was taken away. He also stayed so he coul be a faithful son
when his parents face a time of need, and they will need him now like never
before. In the long, painful fallout of
a split-second crash there is total confirmation that Ali had chosen
rightly. He chose to continue the
nightmare of displacement because he realized that a family can be resettled
but loved ones cannot be replaced. To
me, this is heroic.
