The idea of the shrinking "humanitarian space" for refugees is a common theme in international discussions about refugee issues. I prefer to call the condition our shrinking humanitarian heart. Like other heart diseases it sneaks up on us without notice until one day it hits us hard. Our humanitarian heart has been in a sad condition for a while, but after Sept. 11, 2001, we got a real picture of its shrinkage.
Humanitarian space refers to the symbolic amount of room we have for people in need. It is influenced by the laws and practices of states that provide a safe place to rebuild lives for those who have fled persecution, war, human rights abuses and natural disasters. Compassionate, humanitarian hearts beat in people who encourage their governments to provide safe havens. Canada has long been recognized for its generosity towards refugees and Canadians like to think we are good at welcoming the stranger. The reality is somewhat different.
Terrorist attacks and subsequent rhetoric that often equate refugees with terrorists have provided the perfect backdrop for growing xenophobia and racism. Fear mongering has incited governments, including Canada, to reinforce borders and limit civil liberties in the name of security. In Fortress Europe, boats are turned back onto the high seas to capsize their human cargo. At airports abroad, Canadian personnel refuse entry to people seeking refuge in Canada. We are building perimeter fences around compassionate responses to our brothers and sisters who are living and dying in fear and pain.
Two million have fled Iraq, millions are suffering unspeakable horror in Darfur, a million more Afghan refugees languish in insecurity and poverty in Pakistan and Iran. The list goes on. But let's remember Mother Teresa spoke about how we can change lives one person at a time. She was right.
Canada has an agreement with the United States that allows us to refuse entry to people coming via the States to seek protection as refugees in Canada. Every day desperate, frightened families are turned back at our Canada-U.S. border crossings. The American authorities pick them up and many are put in detention. Not only is this against our international agreements on refugee protection, it also places women, children and men in real danger of being returned from the States to torture and persecution in the countries from which they have fled. Can we really allow Canada to support the United States in this rendition?
War has a nasty habit of fragmenting families. Most of us have trouble imagining what it must be like to run for your life. I cannot conceive of any reason for leaving my children behind. But I know mothers and fathers who have been forced to do just that. The pain on their faces reflects the agony they wake up to everyday that they are separated from their children. Canada takes many months to process the applications for these children. Sometimes, through no fault of their own, the children are refused by Canada and can never be reunited with their parents. Some die waiting. Surely, we can change this situation by demanding a humanitarian response from our government and refusing to allow bureaucratic red tape to excuse us? Reuniting children with their parents who are separated by war and terror is changing lives one family at a time.
Presbyterians are changing the lives of refugees through the private sponsorship program with Presbyterian World Service & Development, and also by supporting the advocacy work of the Canadian Council for Refugees. We may never be able to help the millions of people suffering around the world, but as Mother Teresa said best, "I never look at the masses as my responsibility; I look at the individual. I can only love one person at a time – just one, one, one. So you begin."
So we, too, can begin.
Humanitarian hearts can change laws and policies too. With one voice at a time, we can speak out against the fear and xenophobia that closes borders, reduces aid and silences diplomatic peace building. Humanitarian hearts enlarge humanitarian space.
