Reflections on the 'Jungle' & our response to the refugee crisis

Originally posted on The Justice Gap

Words by Hannah Leach, Photography by James Fisher

British media buzz around the “European” refugee crisis has recently taken a dark turn. Following the tragic events in Paris a couple of weeks ago, the press has been abound with accusations and cynicism towards refugee channels and extremism. But let us cast our minds away from these tactics and back to before this fearmongering began, to a period of solidarity amongst the British public. Now, more than ever, it is time we took a step back and examined ourselves, lest we forget, Syrians are running away from Daesh (ISIS) too. How has our behaviour been disrupted by this sheer influx of humans? Let’s take a closer look at the outpouring of grassroots humanity that it’s galvanised within the confines of our British bubble.

Over the past months, grassroots groups in the UK, and further afield, have witnessed an explosive growth of volunteers throwing themselves into the fray. For this fledgling movement of collective humanitarian action towards an otherwise politically abandoned wasteland, you have to admit, it’s not bad. Hundreds of individuals with partners, kids, professions and ongoing lives, yet seldom-little experience of large-scale charitable operations such as this have committed their spare hours to mucking in and just doing what they can. Whether through painstakingly sorting and labelling strangers’ sneakers, dragging overladen sacks of toiletries through warehouse alleyways, or lending a penny to keep the logistical wheels greased, many a Brit has made their mark.

So how has this process affected the British psyche? Have we, in turn, been imbued with a sense of solidarity by Syrians (refusing lifts from volunteers to valiantly march together for days on end through Hungary to Austria)? Or affected by the tales we hear of how “Jungle” dwellers are banding together to restore normality to their meagre existence through church services, art groups and the gritty scrap construction of make-shift classrooms and hospitals? Here we stand, faced with the sweet irony of the fact that we, with so much, have learned some of the most important lessons about human wealth from the fortitude of those who have lost everything.

Having taken the time to further investigate some of these niggling theses at a CalAid collection drop in Slough, here’s a sample of volunteers’ realisations, reactions, hopes and fears. It’s important to acknowledge that these voices belong to an altruistic bunch, yet this piece goes some way to understanding the larger divisive puzzle of British sentiment vis-à-vis immigration, as it stands.

Lesson #1: Fighting hostility with hospitality

First and foremost, let’s look at the driving forces behind the desire to give. What is it that unites people in these times of strife, or more to the point,

Why this crisis?

The world has witnessed its share of humanitarian catastrophes of late, to list but a few, the Indonesian Tsunamis of 2004, the earthquake in Haiti 2010, and again in Nepal earlier this year. At each of these junctures, the public have leaped into action with aid in much the same format as we are witnessing now. Yet, this particular episode of relief is comparatively marred by the politicised posturing of western giants with their fingers clenched firmly around the purse strings on both sides of the channel (I’m referring specifically to Britain and France).

“It’s very affecting, but a lot of the crisis we can’t even touch with our help. There are a lot of walls, a lot of barriers and a lot of slow, bureaucratic pacing: this is the next best thing.” (Donna, activist & volunteer)

This pig-headed (no pun intended) preference of fear over benevolent leadership has not, however, stopped people like Donna and countless others challenging their “leaders” through positive community action. Another bag-slinging volunteer, Mike De Roeck, described how the government have been “shown up by the electorate, regardless of their politics”. Could it be that this divisive rhetoric at a state level has, despite metaphorically high-fiving the UKIPS and the Tommy Robinsons amongst us, served to unify Brits of a broader political leaning? Or has it just spurred on those who see through the xenophobic nature of Teresa May’s “economic migrant” vs. “refugee” categorisations, and feel compelled to give more generously than ever before in an effort to combat this lack of humanity as a result? The point is, this language is just another in a long list of tools wielded to dehumanise those migrating in search of a situation that’s more favourable, but most importantly less oppressive, dangerous, unpredictable, unstable and unliveable than their last.

What’s more, it deserves underlining, and underlining again, that although this humanitarian giving is much-needed and highly valued, it is but a temporary solution to a broader global crisis of displaced persons. Brendan Waterman, a long-standing CalAid aficionado took a break from sifting through toothpaste and soap to describe the success of the movement’s collections as a “double-edged sword”, given that the ultimate goal for those uprooted is to return Home. But until that becomes possible, one could (and should) argue that we have no choice but to do all we can to accommodate because, as Brendan so aptly puts it,

“We were lucky enough to be born on this land here”.

Lesson #2: Remembering how to connect

On the flip side, maybe we should be thanking those fleeing for instilling in us a sense of community…One common theme that could be heard echoing around the stacks of boxes that day was Connection. Connecting the powerful resources of volunteer networks to a central hub, connecting refugees to the amenities of which they are deprived, connecting with strangers through a space created by a shared desire to support other complete strangers in need.

One of the most staggering truths about this public refugee aid movement across the UK is that the lion’s share of volunteers stepping up have next to no previous experience of humanitarian work. Whether this reflects badly on us as a society is another question, yet over the hum of activity, Henrietta Nettlefold of youth and elderly support charity, Age Unlimited, reassured me that

“England has always had a tradition of charity. You grew up thinking that you had to give something back, instinctively.”

So could it be that, while those already well entrenched in activism and charity work continue with their commitments, we are in fact witnessing a conversion of the dormant masses (in favour of immigration) towards a more regular form of philanthropy, and re-forging connections not only across borders but equally within our own, within communities at home? Rebecca Austin, a mother and community collection coordinator explained from the back of a loaded van that this experience would spur her on to do more in the future. Lee Match, also a parent, described, whilst taking five against a wall in the storage car park, how he had been struck with an epiphany about the importance of removing one’s own vanity from the situation, and turning away from saviour complex tendencies:

“I’m happy to be a small cog in this big machine that’s dedicated to doing the right thing. It’s not about getting what I can out of it, it’s about putting what I can into it.”

It’s not far-fetched to suggest that such realisations could translate into more widespread community action at home too, as our focus shifts ever so slightly more from inward to beyond ourselves. One observation is sure: that this common purpose has drawn people together that felt community work was beyond their realm previously. One CalAid recruit painted to me the story of an elderly couple that had turned up that day to donate, surprised and thrilled to be invited into the heart of the operation floor mid-sorting, having clearly already removed themselves from the equation.

“Once you reveal how well coordinated and networked the process is, and how friendly people are, they (new volunteers) are very enchanted by it: they connect with people and then they want to keep connecting.”

Finally, let’s not overlook the power of regenerating lines of information between the oft-dehumanised “swarms of migrants” on the move across great swathes of global borders, not only from Syria. This sentiment goes straight to the heart of such operations, as we collectively strive to awaken Europe to our human responsibility and duty to respond to others not unlike ourselves, but burdened with the ills of war and violence (not responsible for them!). As so valiantly demonstrated by each and every jumper donated, box heaved, and link shared we can’t deny our role to play in this mess. We are responsible for our failure to provide adequate safe channels to internally displaced persons (IDPs) in dire need of an exit strategy, and for continually ignoring the reality of a destitute nation on the move.

Transmitting this message of collective ownership and forging these bonds is one of the first hurdles in trying to recover a so far disastrous response to a staggering crisis. It is via the endeavours of digital natives coupled with our modern insatiable appetite for information that have made virtual storytelling so effective in portraying the individual plight of those displayed in fleeting news bulletin taglines as little more than an anonymous figure. Efforts that combat the naysaying media narrative with personality and human visibility are a testament to this. Keep fighting the misconceptions.

So it’s fair to say, the values of our social fabric have been somewhat challenged, tried, and found lacking by this protracted crisis and the nomadic nature of its impact on regions both near and far from the conflict zone. Whether this will have a lasting effect on the more open segments of our society will become clearer over the coming months, as the factors pushing people out of their home turf rage on and EU leaders dither around the consolidation of a Europe-wide solution. But until then,

“Hopefully, if we put enough noise out there…people will start to relate to it” (Brendan Waterman, volunteer),

and to each other, meaning that it will be harder to deny our neighbours support in this way because, really, that drenched figure clinging to the inflatable life-raft is every single one of us.