Charissa Isidro
borderline-europe
Berlin, Germany
Don’t we all wish we could change the world? We all know that we can’t, and yet we try.
Last week I was dealt the first real blow to my research project. We visited a camp inside a small basketball gym, hidden in a wealthier suburb on the outskirts of Berlin. As we entered, we were greeted by a man and escorted into another room. Security looked over my documents and research questions. The survey is quick, we said, and it’s been approved by an ethics committee in New York. He nodded his head slowly and gave us an apologetic smile. The questionnaire was fine but they would not allow us to conduct the research inside. We would have to be outside, and they would ask people to come out and talk to us. “Ok,” we said, disappointed.
“I’m really sick of this research,” said a voice suddenly. “Really, just sick of it and you people coming in with your surveys and statistics,” she said. A local woman from management stared at us coldly and scolded us from her chair. I stood there almost in disbelief. “What you are doing is passive, it is selfish. You are not helping these people, but yourselves. You are not giving them benefits, just disrupting their lives. Come back and do something useful for these people.”
I cannot even describe the feeling that was in my heart at that moment. Yes I know the realities of research. Yes I know that there will not be any direct benefits to these people. Yes I know all these arguments – I have heard them all before. Honestly, I felt so small in that moment. I felt so demeaned to have an older white German woman imply that I was being elitist, disruptive, passive, and exploitative. As if I do not care for these refugees, or what has happened, what is happening and what will happen to them. As if the violations of their human rights are not worthy of being recorded and analyzed and exposed by those of us who have the means to do so?
I know what it’s like to have privilege and to have none. And this specific privilege I have, to have the opportunity to come to Germany from the United States to conduct this kind of research is a unique one. I’m doing this research because I want to live in a world where a home, education, and political engagement are not privileges, but givens of life.
The lady told me that it would be better if I came back and just talked to the refugees (as if this is not what we were doing already). At first I was convinced. Perhaps I had not been doing enough to help refugees, to donate money, to spend time volunteering. But is that it? Is this how we quell the humanitarian crisis? With care packages and smiles?
How do we expect to change policy without the facts? How do we expect to change public opinion without the voices of Syrian refugees? How do we expect to increase the number of Syrian refugees being taken by the United States government? How do we expect Syrian refugees to integrate into our communities if we have deliberately excluded them from our political conversations and the policies which decide their futures?
Though I would love to just sit around and talk to refugees, I don’t have the resources or abilities to do that. Mere intimate conversation doesn’t bring about massive change. I know that it’s important to think small, to do what we can to help those around us. But there’s an idealist in me that knows it’s also important to think big. Our aim here is to collect evidence to create a larger conversation, one that is derived from the responses of real refugees and encompasses their experiences. Again I find myself confronted by these clashing views of human rights – relative or universal, the individual or the collective?
As much as anyone else, I know that, yes, stories are important. For that we should allow the journalists to do their jobs, to highlight the experiences of individuals. But numbers are important in our data-driven world too. I felt disheartened because that woman had been disillusioned by the benefits of research. To an extent I understand this – it’s true this research may not have any immediate impacts, but that shouldn’t discount the need for research, especially concerning groups as vulnerable as refugees. Legislation and policy are passed on the reliance of data, evidence, statistics, numbers. We cannot ignore this. And because in the United States, we have not progressed from these absurdly humiliating numbers – 10,000 Syrian refugees, and less than 3,000 taken in so far – I will continue to do this research… because Americans need to see the big picture. They need to know what kind of situation is at hand.
After 2 hours at this camp, we were only able to collect three responses. But one man in particular was very eager to complete the survey. In fact, he spoke to my translator about his experiences for more than 30 minutes. Despite the general feeling of hostility we felt there, that man treated me with the utmost kindness. He took some chairs and asked us to sit, and feel welcome. He greeted me in English. He thanked us, and told us how important he thought our research was. Life had been so cruel to him but it had not yet made him bitter.
I don’t know your name, Sir, but I’m doing this for you. I know I won’t change the world but in those few minutes, you really made me believe, that maybe, in my own little way, I can.