Do not dismiss human rights crises for coffee and comics
January 30, 2015
It’s a familiar narrative: protests against an oppressive regime, the subsequent crackdown of said regime on protestors and particularly brutal treatment against the rival religious sect.
Place this scenario in the already war-torn and disputed Middle East, drag it out for years and add the displacement of millions of people from their homes.
Time-old tale. Sad story. You keep drinking your coffee and turn to the sports section.
9.5 million Syrians have been displaced in the civil war since it began in 2011, and we turn the page.
What does that say about our humanity? Maybe it simply reveals that we can’t relate to a number.
When faced with a number as massive as 9.5 million, it’s hard to view each one as an individual life. But here’s the thing — governments have to try.
At the beginning of this year, the Lebanese government began requiring that all Syrian refugees — political or otherwise — present one of six available entry permits in order to cross over into the previously lenient border. The government is allowing current refugees already registered with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees to stay if they routinely renew their visas every six months.
Lebanon is about the size of Delaware, and the UNHCR reported in 2014 that Syrian refugees now make up one-fourth of the Lebanese population. That’s a rough equivalent to the United States receiving an influx of 70 million immigrants in less than four years.
The wave of immigration is slaughtering their economy — rent prices are going up, wages are going down and jobs are nowhere to be found — for both the Syrians and the Lebanese. And because the various Lebanese political factions have been embarrassingly unsuccessful at coming to a consensus regarding the establishment of formal camps for the refugees, the majority of Syrians have been forced to live in overcrowded makeshift camp areas.
With all this in mind, it’s hard to blame the Lebanese government for wanting to have some restrictions.
But let’s look at it from the perspective of a Syrian immigrant; you’ve fled your home after years of trying to avoid the violence. You’ve finally managed to trek the 190 miles to Lebanon, and you are denied entry because you do not have the proper documents.
What now? Half of the entire Syrian population has been displaced from their homes, with the UNHCR reporting that as many as one in eight have fled the country. Where can they go?
The UN has stated that this is the worst humanitarian crisis the world has seen in decades. But the Lebanese government is dealing with internal crises, too. It’s not the responsibility of one tiny country to house millions of terrified and exhausted people seeking asylum.
But how can one turn them away? How can one say no?
The Lebanese government has to find a balance. It’s a balance between the unfortunate reality that there are millions of people suffering worldwide and the optimistic empathy that comes with trying to do something about it. It’s a balance that may not satisfy everyone all the time.
It’s a balance humanity must come to, as whole. And it is a balance you can’t achieve by turning the page every time you come across a sad story.