War changes lives overnight. Homes turn into ruins, schools into shelters and familiar places become terror-filled.
Families who once thought about homework, family occasions and shopping suddenly start thinking: Survival. When people flee war, they rarely choose to leave. They leave because staying is too dangerous.
For those of us who live in peace, the unfamiliar sight of foreign refugees can bring up all kinds of fears of strangers from other cultures, languages and traditions. Despite all the obvious differences, we are all human beings and we all long for the same things: peace, stability, love, education, shelter, friendship, medical care, respect, hope and dignity etc. We all want to provide safety for our kids. Kids don’t care about politics or borders; they all deserve a chance to grow up in peace without injuries or enemies or seeing people blown to pieces by distant governments.
Last month, I met a man called Ibrahim, who had recently arrived in Kilkenny with his wife and two small children. His English is perfect and I discovered that in Gaza, he was a journalist and worked for the BBC. He is here because his little daughter badly needs medical attention. She is attending specialist care in a Dublin hospital.
That same day, I met a little boy of about 8 years old. He was zooming about on a bicycle and it took me a while to register that one of his arms had been amputated, the result of an incident in Gaza. Suffice to say, I was shocked.
Over the years I have met and worked with many asylum seekers and refugees, all of whom had a story to tell of fractured families and broken dreams.
I am acutely aware that one day the boot could be on the other foot. If circumstances forced our own families to flee, we would hope that another country would open its doors with compassion rather than suspicion. We would want our children to be welcomed into schools instead of being treated as outsiders and we would hope for kind neighbours to help us rebuild our shattered hearts and lives rather than judging us by events we could not control.
Welcoming families fleeing war should not just be an act of charity, but an affirmation of values that many of us espouse: respect for human dignity, compassion for the vulnerable and belief in the worth of every individual. These humanist principles become meaningful not simply when they are spoken, but when they are put into practice. Actions speak louder than words.
Understandably, welcoming refugees also brings practical challenges, e.g. housing, healthcare, education and employment. Communities naturally worry about overloaded public services and integration. Successful resettlement depends upon cooperation between governments, local authorities, charities, businesses, communities and families themselves. Integration isn’t always immediate; given opportunity and support, many refugee families become valued, active members of the communities that first offered them sanctuary.
Good planning can solve problems. Our current accommodation crisis is mostly due to a lack of new housing developments in the past, not immigration. It’s too simplistic to blame lack of foresight on refugees. Refugees are people, not statistics. They are doctors who cannot practise until their qualifications are recognised; teachers needing to learn a new language; engineers, dentists, shopkeepers, artists, mechanics, students and grandparents. Ordinary people whose lives were interrupted by circumstances beyond their control. People like me and you.
Compassion is not a limited resource. Empathy for those fleeing conflict does not reduce our concern for people already here. A compassionate society can meet local needs while also helping those facing exceptional hardship; we can, and should, aim to do both.
The strongest argument for welcoming those fleeing conflict shouldn’t be economic or political but moral. Fear builds walls, compassion builds trust. Suspicion isolates; kindness creates the possibility of belonging.
Welcoming families fleeing war acknowledges that their hopes are not so different from ours. They seek safety and a future for their children. If fate were reversed, wouldn’t we wish for generosity from others? Extending generosity isn’t just an act of kindness towards strangers. It’s an expression of our common humanity; an investment in a world where, should the boot ever be on the other foot, someone might choose to welcome us too. Our response will be our legacy and example for the young. What kind of society do we wish to be?
The truth is: Every generation has been tested by unchosen events. Life and history are uncertain. Change can happen suddenly. This truth should invite empathy.
