Penguins And Refugees

Until we see that the ambitions of a Syrian child are very much the same as our own children – we will not overcome the deficit in political capital that is required to overcome an issue of this size.

Along with a substantial fraction of the population, I have been engrossed by David Attenborough’s Planet Earth 2. The majesty of nature, the struggle for survival and the loving bonds on display have been moving. One of the most emotive sequences thus far has been the plight of the 1.5 million chinstrap penguins on the island of Zavadovski.

The lilt of Attenborough’s voice clearly displays emotion as he describes the immense risk undertaken by both mother and father to provide for their offspring. 50ft waves, freezing water, tempestuous weather and most ominously the looming threat of leopard seals are not enough to prevent the penguins from providing nourishment for their children.

It is hard not to be stirred by such a raw display of love and duty.

It is also not difficult to find parallels of this love and duty within our species.

10,000 human lives have been lost in 2016 as they fought their way across the Mediterranean from their devastated homeland. Were their aspirations so different from those of chinstrap penguins that seem to command the emotion of so many of us?

Unpredictable weather, wholly unsuitable equipment and a sliver of hope. That’s all these men,women and children had as they pushed away from the shores of their home in search of a future that has been stolen from them.

Are we so discerning that we can somehow find the humanity on the island of Zavadovski, yet cannot see the robust and fierce injustice on our own shores?

In fact, portions of our population are adamant on playing the role of leopard seal. Katie Hopkins described this disenfranchised and unrepresented group of people as “cockroaches.” For anyone who is the least bit versed in demagogic history, it is evident this dehumanisation is a mandate for genocide. Observers will now point to the 200,000 people signing a petition which strongly condemned these comments – I will conversely point to the outpouring of support that she received on social media.

So what is the cause of this lack of empathy? What is the reason that our former Prime Minister can, with all seriousness, rise to the dispatch box and say that Great Britain’s contribution to the greatest humanitarian crisis of our age is to accept 20,000 refugees in the next 4 years?

The reason is simple. Many of us have been conditioned to find it impossible to place ourselves in the position of the refugees in question. Parts of the media have so successfully painted these most abandoned groups as threats to the common good that it is understandable why certain politicians have translated this suspicion into palpable fear. This in turn bears results such as Trump and Brexit.

It was curious that in the wake of the Brexit vote, individuals were glad that we could now focus on “looking after our own” (as per a Channel 4 interview.) I am really intrigued by this statement that a gentleman from a small Northern coal town espoused hours after the result. What does this sentiment mean? Who constitutes “our own?”

I will leave this judgement to the reader.

However isn’t it interesting that in the wake of the Brexit vote, Polish migrants were told to “go back home” and there has been a 326% increase in Islamophobic attacks? Both the Polish and Muslim communities of Britain have many “born and bred” Brits, are they lucky enough to fall into the grouping of “our own?”

I will leave this judgement to the reader.

Cecil Rhodes, the controversial Victorian figure famously exclaimed, “remember that you are an Englishman, and have consequently won first prize in the lottery of life.” He was of course right in that life is a lottery. A lottery has winners and losers - and to be born in England means that you have definitely won some sort of advantage over other members of our species.

However, does this mean that the English deserve more as a divine right? Does this mean that there is something inherently different about an Englishman than someone from Syria, or Afghanistan or the Philippines?

Critics will now chastise this argument by saying that there is no shame in patriotism. I agree, to be proud of your heritage is to be human. However, once that heritage becomes exclusionary or believes itself superior to alternate cultures you have the groundwork for the evils of fascism, colonialism and imperialism.

Empathy. If there was a subject I could introduce to the curriculum it would be empathy. Perhaps the GCSE classes on “To Kill a Mockingbird” haven’t done the trick. The most important lesson of the novel is that to truly understand someone’s situation, try and “walk a mile in their shoes.”

I am the first to admit, that were I a teenager in Aleppo I would do everything in my power to salvage a future that I could not have in my home country. If I were a parent, I would do all that it took to provide a childhood to my children. I would be adamant not to die in a refugee camp. I would strive for more and probably would be willing to sacrifice a great deal in pursuit of stability.

As those born into privilege, it is our role to empathise and facilitate the ambitions of humans in distress. Not to view them with suspicion and certainly not reduce them to mere quota targets that need to be met.

Yet I fear there is a severe dearth of empathy across the West at the moment. There is so much of an “otherness” shrouding the image of a refugee that we are unable to recall lessons from history that we promised we wouldn’t forget.

Donald Trump’s campaign slogan of “America First” is a direct echo of the US’s ugliest flirtation with fascism and recent calls for a Muslim register were justified through the precedent of Roosevelt’s internment camps. In a time of increased interconnectedness, tribalism is rife and a sense that if you are not one of us, you must be against us is oozing from every crevasse of political rhetoric.

So until we are able to see the situation unobscured by the lens of xenophobia and suspicion. Until we see that the ambitions of a Syrian boy are very much the same as our own children – we will not overcome the deficit in political capital that is required to overcome an issue of this size.