The First Essay

The article “Afghan Who Agreed to Trade His Daughter to End a Debt Says It Was Paid” by Alissa J. Rubin, published in the New York Times on April 1, 2013, dictates the story of an Afghan refugee whom is faced with the decision to commit his 6-year old daughter to marriage in order to settle an over-due debt with another man in the refugee camp. The desperate situation portrayed in this article aptly illuminates how “immigrants survive always in the ghostly shadow of their former selves” by displaying the devastating psychological and emotional toll seeking refuge can ensure (Hron 39). However, while the natural events of the story covered by the Times provide an intimate look into life as a refugee, the article’s presentation of this event was inadequate and blindly supportive of unhindered Western institutionalization. The article aims to make the case that humanitarian support from developed societies, like the United States and the European Union, is necessary to consolidate inter-refugee conflicts- a misleading and narrow argument unsupported by the raw vulnerability of a refugee’s point of view.

The selection of detail incorporated by Rubin focuses extensively on the role of institutions in solving the dispute between the Afghan debtor and the Afghan lender. Rubin introduces the need for outside intervention by discussing the fragility of the refugee camp’s legal system, stating: “Potentially complicating matters was that the payment was made through a jirga, Afghanistan’s unofficial justice system, which … does not have the force of a formal proceeding in the courts” (Rubin).  With this statement, the author effectively discredits the validity of any local, grass-roots judicial system and underlies the belief that sustainable judicial measures can only be achieved with a very Western institutional entity- the court. Pro-Western sentiment continues in Rubin’s selection of detail as she notes that Kimberly Motley, an American lawyer, “was present when Mr. Mohammad gave the money to the lender” (Rubin). Therefore, this statement works to portray Motley as a true humanitarian hero and discredits Mr. Mohammad’s ability to successfully approach conflict himself. By only including the failures of Mr. Mohammad (i.e. his inability to pay his debt and his willingness to sacrifice his daughter’s hand in marriage) while celebrating the actions of the humanitarian efforts, such as Motley’s judicial intervention, Rubin works to portray the humanitarians as effective change-initiators and Mr. Mohammad as part of a “universal ‘suffering form’” (Fadlalla 80).
In addition to having extensive focus on the role of institutions in this conflict, Rubin also fails to include cultural and historical context. To exemplify, Rubin introduces the conflict with the following statement: ‘Involving elders in the refugee camp, [Mr. Mohammad] agreed that if he could not pay the money back in a year, he would give his daughter in marriage to the lender’s son” (Rubin). The statement is written in a direct and pointed fashion typical of newspaper journalism. However, Rubin provides no insight into Afghani culture; thus, the deal between Mr. Mohammad and the lender is interpreted as a complete blasphemy to Western readers and moreover, these readers have no opportunity to view the event through the relevant cultural lens. Readers are forced to view the refugees in Kabul as a sub-species group, or an ‘uncivilized group’ in need of Western enlightenment, because the readers do not have access to the cultural details of Afghanistan’s history that may have inspired a better understanding of the complexity of the issue at hand. In other terms, “the generic immigrant narrative neutralize[d] immigrant suffering as a necessary part of the immigrant process” (Hron 43).

The perspectives included in this article are limited. There are no direct quotes from Mr. Mohammad or anyone native to the refugee camp. Thus, all the information provided in the story has been filtered through a Western, humanitarian lens, producing an “easy-to-consume image and narrative form” (Fadlalla 81).  The article later reveals that an anonymous donor from the United States paid for Mr. Mohammad’s debt after first reading about the situation in the New York Times a few weeks ago. While “such individual efforts to alter realities of poverty and suffering should be celebrated”, they should not be displayed as “the only viable solution for ending poverty and mitigating the effects of war” (Fadlalla 110). Rubin focuses her piece on the work of the humanitarian advocate, the anonymous donor, and other women’s rights activist organizations in the regions. She fails to incorporate any direct language or accounts from members of the refugee camp. As a result, this article would be more accurately described as ‘news account’ than a refugee story because it does not include the voice of a refugee.

In essence, the story of Mr. Mohammad’s difficult circumstance is fairly reminiscent of the life of Haileab Asgedom: “He arrived at his job one day as … the working man supporting his family. He returned home that same day as … the unemployed beetle” (Asgedom 96). While Mr. Mohammad did not face unemployment in this news article, he did experience a loss of dignity like Haileab. The journey to life as a ‘beetle’ is a delicate and vulnerable story- one that should be preserved through the voices of those who directly experienced it. A story, not just the stories of refugees, has transformative qualities; it can inspire a shared sentiment and change from the center of the soul. Unfortunately, the content and perspectives included in Alissa J. Rubin’s “Afghan Who Agreed to Trade His Daughter to End a Debt Says It Was Paid” failed to adhere to this need for intimacy. It warped the purpose of a story into a political tool, celebrating acts of “rescue and compassion … rather than … claims of entitlement and socio-economic rights” (Fadlalla 79). In total, the news article failed to be anything more than the story of a powerful superhero coming in to save the ever-endangered damsel in distress.

The Analysis of Suffering

            The “universal suffering” phenomenon is a key aspect of both the American dream and humanitarian culture. As Fadlalla revealed, Western humanitarian efforts establish a “universal ‘suffering form’ in order to attract and push their own agenda” (80). In other terms, a group’s pain becomes the crucial catalyst of affirmative action and ‘do-gooder’ behavior. In relation to the American dream, suffering is not only rewarded, but expected in US society. I think back to my college applications and interviews; nearly every format asked about my biggest challenge, portraying an innate hope that I had somehow suffered in my life while pushing to determine the nature of my character by how successfully I overcame that suffering. The social expectation of suffering isn’t entirely a bad thing. It prescribes a reverence of perseverance and persistent hard work.  The social demand for suffering has helped to build the very framework of the American dream. The American dream, or the belief that anyone can be successful if they just work hard enough, is perfectly embodied by Mawi in Of Beetles and Angels. Of Beetles and Angels tells the story of how a naturally born Ethiopian refugee comes to reside in an affluent suburb in the United States, concluding the journey with an acceptance to Harvard University on a full-tuition scholarship. Mawi came with little monetary and social power, and reached a pivotal level of success. His story can be exploited by the US dominant culture, displaying “the sufferings of immigration [as] normalized so as to propagate the ideals of the multicultural nation” (Hron 37) and using “the generic immigrant narrative [to neutralize] immigrant suffering as a necessary part of the immigration process” (Hron 43). In essence, suffering is shed in a positive light as the mechanism by which people become worthy of success. According to Hron, self-sacrifice is an ideal kind of beauty in US culture (56). Even Mawi admits in Of Beetles and Angels, “Of course no worthy endeavor is without risks and pitfalls” (Asgedom 138). I have already mentioned previously that an expectation of suffering is not entirely destructive; however, the universality and grouping of all suffering beings builds a social tendency to “slow the move toward an accountable public sphere” (Fadlalla 81). It poses the dangerous question: if all beings are expected to suffer, why should humans take action to prevent suffering? Thus, just as suffering can “attract and push [the] own agenda” of humanitarians, it can also perpetuate a social condition that incubates a continued cycle of human pain and suffering, which in turn allows humanitarians to keep their jobs. 

The Story

A refugee story is a complex account because it is a fusion of multiple identities. Refugees, as I mentioned in my previous definitions, often exist in a state of limbo- straddling the pressures and expectations of competing and partial identities. Refugees, forced from their native homes due to tragic external factors, have an innate connection to their first identity, yet they must also compensate for they changes they undergo in their new cultures (both the culture of the camp and of their final location). Thus, refugee stories are more complex than other narratives because the voice is not rooted in a single identity. Rather, the voice is submerged in an atmosphere of competition. The competition of identities present in a refugee’s voice has many profound effects of the direction of the narrative. It allows the author to express many feelings of lust- lust for their homes and families and lust for the potential benefits of a future life. For example, Selamawi struggles with maintaining his  Ethiopian roots and his new education in Chicago. The voice of a refugee is unique because it comes from the place of an unknown, and potentially unachievable, single identity; other stories are rooted in the faith that a final identity will be attained. Refugees may not have the luxury to adhere to this faith.

A refugee’s story helps to highlight the principles of the Fadlalla piece. Fadlalla warns against the universalization of refugees, or the West’s tendency to reduce refugees to an undistinguishable accumulation of sufferers. This portrayal leads to the dehumanization of refugees as wealthy humanitarians gain the power to assume refugees are warlike and animalistic by nature. A refugee’s story disrupts these Western assumptions because it highlights the complexity of an individual voice. A refugee’s story accentuates specific details about his or her life and connects them to the themes and hardships many refugees experience (i.e. forced displacement, disconnection from culture etc.). In other terms, a refugee’s story acts as a bridge between the varied representations of refugee culture present in humanitarian work today. 

The Review

In the documentary God Grew Tired of Us the Lost Boys of Sudan are portrayed in a humorous light. While the subject matter of the film is naturally somber, the directors of the film consistently shine light onto the small conversations and actions of the Lost Boys that highlight an omnipresent spirit of hope and humility. For example, a long scene is dedicated to explaining the origins of the so-called “White House” that was established in the refugee camp- a small detail that displayed the inner-spirits of the refugees of South Sudan. The humorous take allowed viewers to move from a state of pity to a state of appreciation. Humor is an intrinsically human emotion; thus, actively working to incorporate moments of humor helped to evolve the refugees’ image from that of a suffering fool to that of an optimistic opportunity-seeker.

Overall, the film failed to incorporate key elements of a refugee’s journey. The film, in essence, depicts a refugee’s journey to asylum as fun and exciting, using humor to highlight a positive enthusiasm. So far, the film does an adequate job of not painting Western humanitarian efforts as the “ultimate hero”, which is the tone Fadlalla warned against. In his Urban Anthropology, Fadlalla notes that many Western humanitarian efforts work to prove the neoliberal belief that safety and success can only be attained by “[being] brought back to civility” (Fadlalla 106). In other terms, many Western, neoliberal humanitarian organizations acquaint success with Western developed societies and savagery with the underdeveloped bush lands of Africa. This association is dangerous because it fuels the ego of the powerful Western hegemon dominant in the international system today. The film does a decent job of avoiding this ego-fueling formula by allowing refugees to speak directly for themselves and by showing the happy energy of the refugees (which works to disrupt the humanitarian assumption that all people fleeing from tragedy are innately suffering beings).

However, one prominent fault of the movie is that it does contribute to Western society’s tendency to “[produce] simplistic understanding[s] of the conflict, which obscure[s Africa’s] complexity and embeddedness in both national and international politics” (Fadlalla 105). In the beginning of the film, the conflict between North and South Sudan is merely described as a religious contention between Muslims and Christians. The simplification of the conflict contributes to the refugees’ helpless and simple image, which in turn, allows Western humanitarians to dehumanize the refugees into small objects in distress. In this way, the film fuels the egotistical mindset of the Western hegemon.  

The New Refugee

After interpreting a comprehensive definition of the term “refugee” from the UNHCR, it is clear that the term describes something more than the individual emotional or physical state of a displaced person. The state of "refugee" must be a recognized entity outside of the mind of an individual; it is a label that is determined by greater powers in the international system. It is a term that prescribes a two-way relationship between the outside international community that houses the refugees and the refugees themselves. Before reading the UNHCR account, I did not consider the effect of refugees on the international system, only taking into account the uncontrollable circumstances that have created the heartbreaking desperation driving the actions of refugees. While reading the article, I was actually surprised that a formal, application process determined the right of a person to adhere to the label of “refugee”. In some ways, the demand for an application process is nothing more than another way to isolate and weaken vulnerable populations. It is understandable that the international community does not want stable persons taking advantage of the protections and resources specifically available for refugees in need, yet the international organizations, distinctively removed from all crisis situations that produce refugees, do not have the direct experiential knowledge that enables them to properly determine which populations deserve special protections. No matter how proper the UNHCR’s motives are, their authority to determine “refugee status” will always come from a safe office space away from the emotional turmoil that is driving people out of their homes.

One aspect of the UNHCR’s definition that I would like to incorporate into my original (possibly too poetic) statement, “in essence, a refugee is a wandering soul” is the idea that a refugee is both a person with little power and a person with great power in numbers. The UNHCR noted that foreign governments and systems could collapse if they receive an influx of refugees in a small period of time. It is interesting to think that a group of disparaged, displaced persons could have a profound impact on the powerful members of the international system; recognizing this impact is an essential part of analyzing the definition of “refugee” because it evolves a refugee from something to pity into a relevant and incremental aspect of the international system at large.

Questions:

What are ways in which the volunteers can disrupt educational/racial/religious/socio-economic privilege while communicating with refugees? How can we replace feelings of guilt/pity with a sense of equal commodity? Is help always appreciated or can it (or perhaps, should it) be resisted? 

Refugee (noun):

Refugee (noun):

And Webster's dictionary would define the term refugee as something technical, general, and devoid of a human connection, I'm sure. However, a refugee, in essence, is a staggering corner of humanity. To be a refugee is to be stranded outside one's home; it is to be lost in a place you have never been before, driven there by a certain set of demons against your will. It is to be a personification of cognitive dissonance- physically bound to one location but emotionally attached to another. A refugee, if I am defining it simply, is a soul controlled by outside, unfair circumstances.

It is one thing to describe a refugee from the sanctuary of a private university hall in Denver, CO. I imagine (justifiably or perhaps arrogantly) that to be a refugee is to straddle two spheres of emotion. One is an astounding courage, the courage to continue moving forward even when past events may have proven the reality of your worst nightmares. The other, a dark shadow,  is an omnipresent fear. Fear of both the past and the unknown future- a constant uncomfortableness in one's state of living.