Bono: Time to Think Bigger About the Refugee Crisis
I’VE
recently returned from the Middle East and East Africa, where I visited
a number of refugee camps — car parks of humanity. I went as an
activist and as a European. Because Europeans have come to realize —
quite painfully in the past year or two — that the mass exodus from
collapsed countries like Syria is not just a Middle Eastern or African
problem, it’s a European problem. It’s an American one, too. It affects
us all.
My countryman Peter Sutherland, a senior United Nations
official for international migration, has made clear that we’re living
through the worst crisis of forced displacement since World War II. In
2010, some 10,000 people worldwide fled their homes every day, on
average. Which sounds like a lot — until you consider that four years
later, that number had quadrupled. And when people are driven out of
their homes by violence, poverty and instability, they take themselves
and their despair elsewhere. And “elsewhere” can be anywhere.
But
with their despair some of them also have hope. It seems insane or
naïve to speak of hope in this context, and I may be both of these
things. But in most of the places where refugees live, hope has not left
the building: hope to go home someday, hope to find work and a better
life. I left Kenya, Jordan and Turkey feeling a little hopeful myself.
For as hard as it is to truly imagine what life as a refugee is like, we
have a chance to reimagine that reality — and reinvent our relationship
with the people and countries consumed now by conflict, or hosting
those who have fled it.
That
needs to start, as it has for me, by parting with a couple of wrong
ideas about the refugee crisis. One is that the Syrian refugees are
concentrated in camps. They aren’t. These arid encampments are so huge
that it’s hard to fathom that only a small percentage of those refugees
actually live in one; in many places, a majority live in the communities
of their host countries. In Jordan and Lebanon, for example, most
refugees are in urban centers rather than in camps. This is a problem
that knows no perimeter.
Another
fallacy is that the crisis is temporary. I guess it depends on your
definition of “temporary,” but I didn’t meet many refugees, some of whom
have been displaced for decades, who felt that they were just passing
through. Some families have spent two generations — and some young
people their entire lives — as refugees. They have been exiled by their
home countries only to face a second exile in the countries that have
accepted their presence but not their right to move or to work. You hear
the term “permanent temporary solution” thrown around by officials, but
not with the irony you’d think it deserves.
Those
understandings should shape our response. The United States and other
developed nations have a chance to act smarter, think bigger and move
faster in addressing this crisis and preventing the next one. Having
talked with refugees, and having talked to countless officials and
representatives of civil society along the way, I see three areas where
the world should act.
First,
the refugees, and the countries where they’re living, need more
humanitarian support. You see this most vividly in a place like the
Dadaab complex in Kenya, near the border of Somalia, a place patched
together (or not) with sticks and plastic sheets. The Office of the
United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees is doing noble and
exceedingly hard work. But it can’t do everything it needs to do when it
is chronically underfunded by the very governments that expect it to
handle this global problem.
Second,
we can help host countries see refugees not just as a burden, but as a
benefit. The international community could be doing much more, through
development assistance and trade deals, to encourage businesses and
states hosting refugees to see the upside of people’s hands being
occupied and not idle (the World Bank and the Scriptures [Holy Bible] agree on this).
The refugees want to work. They were shopkeepers, teachers and
musicians at home, and want to be these things again, or maybe become
new things — if they can get education, training and access to the labor
market.
Third,
the world needs to shore up the development assistance it gives to
those countries that have not collapsed but are racked by conflict,
corruption and weak governance. These countries may yet spiral into
anarchy. Lately some Western governments have been cutting overseas aid
to spend money instead on asylum-seekers within their borders. But it is
less expensive to invest in stability than to confront instability.
Transparency, respect for rule of law, and a free and independent media
are also crucial to the survival of countries on the periphery of chaos.
Because chaos, as we know all too well, is contagious.
What
we don’t want and can’t afford is to have important countries in the
Sahel, the band of countries just south of the Sahara, going the same
way as Syria. If Nigeria, a country many times larger than Syria, were
to fracture as a result of groups like Boko Haram, we are going to wish
we had been thinking bigger before the storm.
Actually,
some people are thinking bigger. I keep hearing calls from a real
gathering of forces — Africans and Europeans, army generals and World
Bank and International Monetary Fund officials — to emulate that most
genius of American ideas, the Marshall Plan. That plan delivered trade
and development in service of security — in places where institutions
were broken and hope had been lost. Well, hope is not lost in the Middle
East and North Africa, not yet, not even where it’s held together by
string. But hope is getting impatient. We should be, too.
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