In this opinion piece, Mary Coogan highlights the contradictions and dehumanising affects of the language used when talking about the refugee crisis.

What if Cecil the lion had been a human? What if he had drowned in the Mediterranean instead of being shot just outside the bounds of a national park? Would his face still have been projected onto the Empire State building? Would thousands have mobilised on social media and on the streets calling for justice in his name? Would his beauty, dignity and life have been celebrated and his death mourned across the world or would he have become just another nameless, faceless statistic?

It took Cecil 40 hours to die. In that same amount of time hundreds of people will have been crammed onto unseaworthy vessels, abandoned to their fate. Thousands of people will have set off from Sudan, Eritrea, Syria and other conflict-afflicted countries in the hope of a better life. They will have left with little or nothing, hoping that what lies ahead for them must surely be better than what they have left behind.

Harsh reality

Many people over the coming weeks will join the more than 2,000 people who have already lost their lives in the Mediterranean this year. Just last week, an estimated 300 people drowned when a vessel, suitable for only 50 people capsized carrying 700 people on board. The fear, panic and horror of their last few hours on earth became another statistic. Their stories were not told, while Cecil’s was.

“This language encourages us to ignore their stories, their humanity and to view their deaths in terms of inconvenience for holidaymakers and truck drivers”

Language of human suffering

Cecil the lion was described and grieved for in very human terms; he was described as ‘beautiful’, ‘iconic’ while his death was a ‘tragedy’. At the same time the world’s media took the stories of the people in Calais and in the Mediterranean and wrapped them up neatly in negative-neutral terms like
‘migrant’ and ‘illegal’.

The uniqueness of each of those people, their traumas and heartaches and hopes were obliterated as they were described by David Cameron as a ‘swarm’ and by Katie Hopkins of the Sun, Britain’s most read newspapers, as ‘cockroaches’.

The use of such dehumanising language in the migrant crisis is significant. It reinforces the idea that  these people are inherently different to us. They are portrayed as a threat and a danger. This language encourages us to ignore their stories, their humanity and to view their deaths in terms of inconvenience for holidaymakers and truck drivers.

The majority of people in ‘the new jungle’ (a problematic term itself) in Calais and as well as those rescued in the Mediterranean, are from countries such as Eritrea, Sudan, Afghanistan and Syria and therefore, under international law, most likely have a sound asylum claim. Yet they are continually referred to as ‘migrants’, a term that generally refers to someone who travels to another country to work for a short period of time.

“Avoiding the more specific terms, refugees and asylum seekers, and referring to people as illegal, enables us to turn our backs on them…”

Avoiding the more specific terms, refugees and asylum seekers, and referring to people as illegal, enables us to turn our backs on them, to ignore our international obligations, to infer a criminality and a threat on people who are no different to you or me other than where they happened to be born.

In refusing to use these legitimate terms, the ‘push factors’ are also swept away and given little attention. The worsening situation in Syria, conscription in Eritrea, and ongoing conflict in South Sudan become irrelevant because the people themselves are, somehow, ‘illegal’. Politicians talk about building fences and increasing police presence rather than looking at the root causes of the circumstances which push people to risk their lives.

Immigrants or expats?

When I overhear people complaining about ‘immigrants’ I often wonder who exactly they are talking about. Is it everyone who was born outside Ireland or only people whom they perceive to be some type of threat or burden? Are they talking about Indian doctors, Nigerian consultants, Bangladeshi software engineers and Filipino nurses? Are they talking about someone waiting patiently in a direct provision centre to get the papers that will finally enable them to earn a living?  Are they talking about the delivery driver who brings them their favourite chicken szechaun every weekend?

“An Irish person who overstays their visa in America is ‘undocumented’ but an Indian student who overstays their visa in Ireland is ‘illegal’”

The term immigrant has become laced with so much negativity, yet this negativity seems to be reserved for certain groups; for example, does the media tend to label the sizable British and American communities in Ireland as immigrants? Not in my experience.

When it comes to our own role in this globalised world, our language changes again. When an Irish person goes to live and work in, say, South Africa or China, they become an ‘ex-pat’.  But when a South African or Chinese person comes to live and work in Ireland, they become an ‘immigrant’.  An Irish person who overstays their visa in America is ‘undocumented’ but an Indian student who overstays their visa in Ireland is ‘illegal’.

Counter movements

Anti-immigration movements are on the rise across Europe, however, there are counter movements where ordinary citizens come together in the spirit of our shared humanity to do what they can for newly arrived asylum seekers and migrants. There is a movement calling for justice and dignity; it’s just a bit quieter than the movement against Walter Palmer.

The language we use matters. Language reinforces barriers, emphasises differences, dehumanises and hurts. In an increasingly globalised world with an increasing level of complex conflict, people will continue to leave their countries of origin in search of something better. Underneath the labels of migrant, immigrant, ex-pat, undocumented, refugee, citizen; we are all human beings. No one life is worth any more or less than another and especially not less than that of a lion.

Author: Mary Coogan

Mary is originally from Co Wicklow and holds an MSC in International Development from UCD. She previously volunteered in Ghana and South Africa. Mary worked in overseas volunteering roles with Suas and VSO before joining the Trócaire team this year.

Photo credit: A boy from Iraq stands with his family at the gate of the registration centre in Kos, August 2015. International Federation of the Red Cross and Red Crescent, Creative Commons License

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