|
|
---|
Monday, April 25, 2011
Monday, October 5, 2009
Homeless in New Haven
On the way home from basketball practice Sunnie met Will, a New Haven homeless man who frequents Temple Street. Will urged her to share this Youtube interview of him (embedded below) with her friends. Sunnie is at a loss as to how a man becomes homeless merely by losing his job. The only people Sunnie spots on the street in her hometown of Zurich, Switzerland are people who have "...really messed up- drug addicts, criminals. In Switzerland there are too many safety nets, too many social programs that prevent you from losing your home as soon as you lose your job."
Has America failed Will? Or has Will failed himself?
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Shooting Up in Athens

Pierson College, Yale 2009
I’d like to think of myself as a relatively worldly individual. I will admit I am pathetically mono- linguistic (and still working on English), have one passport, and have lived outside of the United States only once - and very briefly. Regardless, I have spent a good amount of time traveling, have family living in four countries, read the international dailies, and am currently looking for work in Asia. I’d like to think that this global view in some ways contributes to an international understanding and a thick skin when it comes to things that fall out of my realm of experience. This past summer, however, I saw something which absolutely thrust me out of my comfort zone.
I was travelling on the cheap and staying in hostels, generally not located in the most upscale neighborhoods, so I wasn’t expecting my small hotel in Omonia Square, Athens to be the Mandarin Oriental. But what I was unaware of until arriving is that Omonia has a much more popular name for native Athenians: Heroin Square. I first noticed the clumps of prostitutes encircling the group of teenagers and young adults in the middle of the small park. Their numbers were only dwarfed in comparison to the population with needles in their bodies. In the early evening, in the middle of a busy public square, under city lights, scores of people were shooting heroin into feet, hands and arms. I counted to 45 before giving up and paying attention to the ground to make sure I didn’t step on rouge hypodermics.
Perhaps the only thing more shocking were the police, stationed no more than two blocks in every direction, aware of the flood of synthetic opiates down the street but entirely uninterested in doing anything about it. I assume their purview extends only so far as to ensure no junkies wander into the nicer parts of town.
Coming face- to- face with passed out heroin addicts, their bodies sprawled so that their heads rolled into the middle of the street, made me reconsider my position on victimless crime. Before the summer I would unflinchingly support the legalization not only of marijuana but of all drugs. Similarly, prostitution was merely a contractual obligation between two adults in which the government had no business injecting moralizing puritanical legislation.
But as I stood on the street surrounded by a mix of Somali immigrants and junkies looking for a fix, I wondered if the Greek government had some obligation to that 17-year- old with a needle in his arm; an obligation to keep him from throwing away his future. At the very least it is a good investment: by keeping that kid off of heroin Greece has one more productive worker and one less social pariah and fiscal drag.
Wouldn’t those nonchalant police officers better spend their time attempting to drag those addicts out of brutal heroin addiction, rather than allowing the situation to escalate? At the very least, minors deemed too young to vote or serve in the army should not be given the opportunity to be hooked on opiates. However, were police to target minors (or anyone for that matter) the tacit agreement between Athens’ finest and its “victimless” criminals would be violated.
I’ll let you know if I end up reconciling a disagreement with a moralizing government and the importance of a state to protect it’s people- even from themselves.
And here is the rest of it.
*A pseudo-name has been used to protect the identity of this author.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Article 25
Sunday, August 16, 2009
British Badmouth Lily Allen
One for Chechnya

This past week, an Internet blog reader, Mark S, emailed in to The Yale Journal of Human Rights with these comments - -
Why not one blog post on the murder of human rights defender Natasha Estemirova in July? Are you on top of the human rights topic or just padding your resumes? Try subscribing to HRW’s blog or reading The Economist. We need more voices speaking out for the truth and justice in repressive and dangerous places.
In a report from April 2009, the human rights organization Amnesty International discovered that,
“… only one person has been convicted in relation to a case of enforced disappearance – and the fate of his victim remains unknown. …Victims of human rights abuses fear reprisals if they turn to the authorities, while those submitting cases to the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) have faced reprisals ranging from threats and intimidation to disappearances.” (April 2009, Amnesty International)
The same reported highlighted the “threats to human rights activists” in the region. This threat often materializes into actual killings, with activists reporting that an ambience of wariness has settled among them, and no conversation fails to meditate on the unsettling question, “Who will be next?” In an article from the British newspaper, ‘The Times,’ a Death List summarized the most recent spawn of killings, not including last week’s murder of Zarema Sadulyeva and her husband, Alik Dzhabrailov, in Grozny where she was director of the children’s charity, Save the Generation:
Anna Politkovskaya 48, journalist and author. She had exposed human rights abuses in the North Caucasus. Shot dead in her apartment building on October 7, 2006
Stanislav Markelov 34, human rights lawyer. Was appealing against early release of a Russian military officer convicted of killing a young Chechen woman. Shot dead leaving a press conference in Moscow on January 15, 2009
Anastasia Baburova 25, journalist. Had investigated neo-Nazi groups and taken part in environmental protests. Shot dead with Markelov on January 15, 2009
Natalia Estemirova, 50, human rights activist with Memorial. She had called for Russian officials, including Vladimir Putin, to be called to account over Chechen crimes. Abducted and shot dead on July 15, 2009
At least six political opponents of the Chechnyan President Ramzan Kadyrov have also been shot dead in the past two years, in locations ranging from Vienna to Dubai. (The Times, Online)
Natasha Estemirova drew international attention to herself working tirelessly to establish accountability and cement a culture of justice in Chechnya by seeking out human rights perpetrators. Her most recent efforts concerning a series of kidnappings that lead her back to the Kremlin- backed, Chechnyan president, Ramzan A. Kadyrov. Unfortunately, the law enforcement is the both the party in power and the guilty party, as confirmed by the same Amnesty report mentioned above,
“To date the European Court of Human Rights has made rulings in about 100 cases concerning human rights violations committed in the course of the conflict in Chechnya. In most of these cases, the Court found Russia responsible for the death, torture, or enforced disappearances of people in Chechnya or for the failure to investigate such crimes.” (April 2009, Amnesty International)
Natasha was accustomed to death threats and, like many human rights activists in the region, seemed to know it was only a matter of time. Indeed, after her death, Kadyrov described Natasha as without “honor, dignity or conscience.” Taken from her front doorstep back in July, Natasha shouted her last known words, “I’m being kidnapped!” Then, she disappeared. Her body resurfaced, a gunshot in her head and chest, indicating the brutality with which she had been treated. Her killers were merciless in sending the international community a clear message.
Even Natasha’s funeral in Grozny was not without incident: as mourners followed her body through the capital, they travelled barely 200 yards before being stopped by police in camouflage who informed them that they needed a permit to march. One mourner argued back, but the officer insisted: funeral processions can turn into protests.
It seems that President Ramzan Kadyrov’s boastful statement that Chechnya would soon be “the safest place in the world,” needs revising. Soon after Natasha’s death, news that Zarema Sadulayeva, the director of Save the Generation, an organization in Grozny that works to rehabilitate and provide a safe haven for children traumatized by war was found dead in the boot of a car with her husband. There is speculation that the killings were motivated by her husband’s alleged ties to an illegal separatist group. Regardless, the organization’s apolitical work makes the killings all the more chilling and human rights defenders even more reluctant to work in the region. As Lyudmila Alexeyeva of the Moscow Helsinki rights groups put it, “She headed an NGO that saved a generation of children. They just helped disabled children and children from poor families… It just shows that anyone whose position allows them a gun can kill whoever they like.” Amazingly, Sadulayeva had been hired at Save the Generation, after the previous director Murad Muradov was arrested and killed by security services in 2005 who apparently suspected him of being an insurgent. (Murad was later cleared of these charges, a little too late.)
Natasha’s friend, Tatyana Lokshina, the deputy director of Human Rights Watch in Moscow remembered her in a piece called, 'Another Voice Silenced in Russia' that included this segment,
“Natasha was dedicated to exposing the gross misrule of Chechnya today. Among the most recent cases she publicized was that of Madina Yunusova, 20, who married a suspected Chechen militant last month. Yunusova’s husband was killed in early July. Two days later, security forces came to her house, locked her mother, father and two sisters in the adjacent shed, and used gasoline to set the house on fire. The armed men unlocked the shed as they left, and Yunusova’s family managed to put out the fire. The next day, the forces returned – this time bringing Yunusova’s body wrapped in a shroud, along with instructions to bury her ‘without noise.’
As Natasha knew, ‘noise’ is the only weapon against the grotesque abuses that civilians in Chechnya continue to suffer. She was a meticulous researcher, but she was also fierce in her determination not to submit to the fiction, so ardently purveyed by Russian Prime Minister Vladmir Putin and his circle, that Chechnya is quiet and that the problem there has been solved. It has not.
Natasha is not the first Russian human rights defender murdered this year. In January, a friend of ours, Stanislav Markelov, a prominent human rights lawyer who helped many victims of abuse in Chechnya, was shot in central Moscow. Natasha came to town for his funeral. We sat at my kitchen table talking into the wee hours… speculating about who would be next.
Now I know.
The killers… are still at large, and the Russian government has shown little political will to seriously the Russian government has shown little political will to seriously investigate the murders of rights defenders. Natasha’s death must be the moment this changes. That’s where Western governments come in. We Russians have a saying, ‘The dogs bark, and the caravan moves on.’ Europe and the United states have foundn it convenient to let Chechnya slip off the agenda in their meetings with Russian policymakers. The dogs are barking.” (Human Rights Watch, Online)
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Yezidi, Gesellschaft für bedrohte Völker, Kurd, Mother, Father, Sister, Brother- HUMAN
The demonstration held on July 15, 2009 by the Council of Yezidis in Germany and co-sponsored by my employer, the Society for Threatened Peoples (Gesellschaft für bedrohte Völker), outside of Oldenburg in Lower Saxony, was part of a last minute effort to rally support for a Yezidi family threatened with deportation, as well as to raise awareness on the issue in general. Yezidi is a Kurdish religion of Indo-European roots, and most of its followers are Kurdish- speaking originally from northern Iraq. The family of 4 had moved to Germany over ten years ago to escape the oppression and lack of opportunities they face as an ethnic and religious minority in Syria. The 2 children, the oldest having been 3 when the family left Syria and the younger having been born in Germany, speak German, attend German schools and call Germany their homeland. Now that their 10 year visa is up, they are faced with deportation back to Syria, and thus to routine discrimination by a state notorious for its use of torture and mistreatment of minorities.
The demonstration brought together the Yezidi community, their friends and supporters, and human rights activists in the area. Little children, teenagers, parents and grandparents were all present, clad in everything ranging from traditional headscarves to Chucks and low riding jeans. For me, the rally emphasized the "human" in human rights. It served as a reminder that, in the end, we are not merely fighting for some intangible ideals, but for real people: for our brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers...
To see more of Pruittiporn's photos of the protest, check out the album by clicking here!
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Some people are gay. Get over it!

LONDON, UK - At the National Portrait Gallery in London, 10 famous homosexuals were each asked to choose 6 ‘Gay Icons’ who were inspirational to them in their struggle for dignity, respect, and equal rights regardless of their sexual orientation.
The result?
Some of what you would expect. Homosexual icons: Ian Roberts, a professional Australian rugby player; W.H. Auden, the British poet; Harvey Milk, the assassinated San Francisco mayor; and Virginia Woolf, who is known to have had a lesbian lover despite being married.
One man, Peter Tatchell, is depicted with his mug shot from a police station, underneath which the police officers in charge have stuck on the label “QUEER TERRORIST,” in big white letters, as part of Tatchell's criminal description. He was arrested for holding up a banner that said, “Charles can marry twice! Gays can’t marry once,” at the wedding procession in Windsor, England for the newlyweds, Prince Charles and Camilla Parker.
Colonel Margarethe Cammermeyer of the United States army, a Vietnam war-veteran and a Bronze Star recipient, is one of the less well-known yet highly respectable and indisputably heroic gay icons in the exhibition. After being discharged from the army for admitting she was a lesbian, she filed a lawsuit in a civil court, which ruled both her discharge and the ban on homosexuals unconstitutional. The colonel then returned to the National Guard until her retirement in 1997. She was one of the only accepted openly homosexual officials in the United States army, before the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy.
But other ‘Gay Icons’ include straight people: CNN reporter, Christiane Amanpour; South- African president, Nelson Mandela; English rose, Princess Diana; and renowned Pulitzer Prize winning author, Maya Angelou.
You don’t have to be gay to be a gay icon. In the fight for LGBT rights, two groups have lost the dignity that makes one human: the homosexuals because of their sexual orientation, and the heterosexuals who have allowed their fellow man to be judged so arbitrarily – not by the content of his character, but by the gender of his partner. The ‘Gay Icon’ exhibition highlights the “human” in human rights: the fight for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Rights (LGBT) does not only concern the LGBT community itself, but also those who are not judged by their sexuality and discriminated against accordingly – those with the most power to change the status quo.
Click here to visit the website for the exhibition 'Gay Icons.' The exhibition is on at the National Portrait Gallery in London until October 18, with reduced admission for students.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Human Rights Go Corporate
This summer, I am working in the human rights and business section of a human rights organization in Denmark. The department works directly with companies, providing them with tools to evaluate how well they adhere to human rights standards, research about the laws and practices of different countries where they may want to operate, and advice about how to uphold human rights in countries where violations are common. Beyond that, it is up to the companies to incorporate what they've learned, to change their practices, to follow through with our advice. We don't monitor companies. Instead, we give them the resources to monitor themselves.
My work this summer has made me think deeply about the role of businesses in human rights. Corporations now operate in countries around the world, from Nigeria to Vietnam, Iran to Guatemala. Oftentimes, the countries are plagued by unstable governments, corruption, and violence. It is common knowledge that the leaders of some of these countries consistently abuse the human rights of their people. The question, then, is what role companies should play- both legally and morally- in such situations. Does working in a country with an oppressive regime legitimize the government, even empower it? Or does the company's presence open the country up, provide jobs to its people, and allow the government to be somewhat monitored? Or, if the company itself is not violating any human rights standards, does its presence even have a significant effect- positive or negative- on the country?
I honestly don't know the answers to these questions, and I'm not so sure that there's one clear answer that fits every context and situation. But the more I work here, the more I see the potential benefit of having responsible, human rights-upholding companies operating in troubled countries. A company can extend its influence throughout a particular region, perhaps even throughout a country, and its presence keeps the line of communication with the government, and with the people, open. After all, the practice of operating in countries with less than ideal human rights records is already so entrenched in the corporate world it would be difficult to completely eliminate it. I'm far from convinced by either side, but I strongly believe that the conversation
is one well worth having.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Palestinians on the Plane?
As I enter the gate area in order to board, I am welcomed by the El Al Airlines’ lady standing in front of the entrance. She looks at my boarding pass and Israeli passport and tells me to go towards another lady standing in front of a different line. “It’s for standard security check” she says politely. “I already went through airport security” I respond.
She laughs and says: “This is Israeli security, it’s much better!”. I laugh along and proceed to hand the other lady my papers. The lady smiles and asks: “Where did you fly from?” I reply: “New York. It’s written on the plane ticket you’re holding” “And your final destination is Tel Aviv” “Yes.” She pauses, smiles again, and asks: “Where do you live in Israel?” “I live in Jerusalem”. She pauses again, continues “Where in Jerusalem?” I respond “Beit Hanina, in East Jerusalem”. She flips through my passport, asks me to wait on the side, takes my papers and walks to an area sealed off from the main sitting lounge with movable dividers.
The gate area fills up as more and more people check in and sit around in the waiting area. The lady comes back with my passport and asks me to follow her into the small room. She tells me that they are going to quickly scan my bags. I sit on a chair awkwardly positioned between a table and one of the dividing walls, start reading the wallpaper* magazine I had just bought, waiting for them to finish up. Three El Al staff come towards me and state that they will take my bags and jacket for a security check while one of them will give me a body search. No one had mentioned a body search when I was first told to proceed to the backroom but I play along regardless, and move into a tiny cubicle. The security man starts searching me, my arms, back, legs. He then asks me to take my shirt, shoes and belt off. He runs the cold plastic beeper around my waste and pants. The fake metallic buttons on my jeans make his machine beep. The security man gives it another try but the beeping persists. He tells me to wait, goes outside and comes back with his supervisor: “His trousers are causing a beeping, I think it’s ok”. The supervisor’s dark piercing eyes glare at me and says:
“Well, if it’s beeping, make him take his jeans off!”
The supervisor exits. The security man hesitates, but says: “I am sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to take your pants off.”
I recall friends going through similar experiences in the Tel Aviv airport but I never imagined myself in such a situation and not even in Israel or the Occupied Territories… I was still in Heathrow Airport, London! I stood still not really knowing how to respond to such a command. Should I accept the situation and comply? Is ‘please, take your pants off’ equivalent to ‘can I have your boarding pass please’ in the context of an airport security check? I start unbuttoning my pants and stop at the first button. Tense, light headed and realizing the absurdness of the situation, I look at the security man and say “This is unbelievable, are you seriously asking me to pull my pants down?” He responds very calmly: “This is just my job.” I reply: “But of course this is your job, I don’t see you asking every passenger to do the same.” He doesn’t respond. I bring myself together and think of the flight I have to catch in 30 minutes now. I focus on the systematic physical movement of unbuttoning my jeans; pulling them down for a few seconds and then pulling them back up. The operation goes by in no time. I collect my cloths and proceed into the room where my bags were being scanned. First glimpse towards my bags I realize that they had also gone through a similar experience. When I was told ‘a quick scan’ I expected someone to put my bags through an x-ray machine but instead, a lady was going through every compartment of my bag, taking out clothes, books, drawing pencils, electronics, and what have you, and dumping them into a large container. She had emptied my bag completely while I was being strip-searched.
As I approach to ask what the purpose of this procedure was, I notice the other security lady playing with my Ipod. She sees me and quickly places it down on the pile of things. The supervisor appears again with my coat and informs me that I cannot carry it with me on the plane. He says I have to leave it in my suitcase that I check in New York when I first departed. Curious about why one was not allowed to take a jacket onto an airplane I ask for an explanation. He stares at me, turns around and leaves. After a minute he comes back with my laptop stating that I also have to leave my laptop, camera and cellphone in the checked-in suitcase. I fly internationally very often and am usually aware of the typical procedures, but for a moment I wondered if there was a new law preventing me from taking anything but my clothes? Surely not. There was no way I was going to leave my laptop behind!
“I am sorry but I will not leave my laptop here. My suitecase isn’t even in the terminal yet because of the delay.”
“I’m sorry that’s how it works.”
I try to stay patient knowing that nothing I say will change the stubborn Israeli security supervisor.
“I don’t see you asking any other passenger to leave their electronics or coats behind. I don’t understand why I am going through this procedure and why I can’t keep my computer with me.”
“These are the laws, either you leave it with us and we put it in your suitcase when it arrives or you don’t get on the plane.”Several arguments later, (with the supervisor, the person who turned my bag upside down, and the person who stripped me) we do not reach an argument and the lady sitting at the entrance to the gate calls on the last passengers to board.
My flight leaves in 2 minutes. Do I do what feels right, which is to question the legality of their actions, whether this is just or ethical? Do I confront them individually? Do I ask to see a higher supervisor? Do I leave my belongings in Heathrow airport and board the plane?
I decide to end the humiliation and tell them that I would rather stay behind and catch a later flight with another airline than accept their unjust conditions and leave my belongings with them. With this decision, the questioning ends, they grab my belongings, dump them into my bag, hand it to me and send me off to the terminal. As the supervisor walks me to the exit I decide to give him a piece of my mind: “This system is unbelievably unjust. I am an Israeli citizen going back home! Out of all the Israelis going on that plane, you pick the only Arab one and make him miss his flight!” He doesn’t reply and escorts me to the exit.
I find myself walking away from the gate, towards the terminal, the ‘Departures’ screens with “Tel Aviv Flight Closing” shinning in bright red.
I walk slowly but steadily, no destination in mind. Walking as far away from the El Al staff as possible was the only thing on my mind. As I approach the main terminal, a bitter taste in my mouth, I try to assess what had just happened and realize that I put myself off that plane; that out of basic principle I had decided to end the nightmare and walk away. I had succeeded in that I was able to make a decision for my own and there was nothing they could do about it. Why did they pick me out of the line of people? Are the three staff seeing sense in what they had done? Do they truly think that pulling down my pants, checking the songs on my Ipod and asking me to leave my coat behind contribute to the ‘security’ of the airplane? I decide to keep the thinking for later and to try to catch the next flight.The British Airways staff tell me the ‘misunderstanding with El Al Airways’ was not their fault but mine because I had chosen not to depart and that there’s not much they can do but put me on stand-by for the next British Airways flight to Tel Aviv, in 12 hours!
I felt humiliated and terribly alone. There was no one I could turn to and nothing I could do in order to deal with the situation. What was I supposed to tell the British lady sitting at the counter: “I decided to get off the plane because I’d rather keep the little dignity that was left in me” “I can’t afford to leave half of my belonging behind”. “They wouldn’t let me on the plane because I am Palestinian?”
Sunday, June 28, 2009
The Danish Touch
I’ve been in Copenhagen for a few weeks now, and the thing that strikes me most is that it's a city that makes sense. Everything about it is considered and planned, designed with its citizens' best interest in mind. It seems engineered to keep people healthy and safe and the environment clean. Beautiful and well-kept public parks encourage people to go outside, and a well-run public transportation system makes the whole city easily accessible. Not only is it physically convenient to bike- there are paths and lanes everywhere- but also financially convenient: cars here are taxed at nearly 200% of their value. Grocery stores here simply do not provide bags; you are forced to bring your own.
The longer I’m here, the more I think about what human rights means in developed countries. It’s easy to focus on blatant abuses in war-torn and destabilized countries, but what about the more subtle abuses in Europe or the United States?
In my opinion, Denmark has excelled at upholding some of the rights from The Universal Declaration of Human Rights that are often overlooked or deemed less important than others. The Declaration guarantees the right to rest and leisure, the right to an adequate standard of living, and to just and favorable conditions of work. In this vein, Danish law states that no employer can expect anyone to work more than 37 hours a week. Working more certainly happens, but there cannot be a base assumption that it will. The Danes clearly respect life outside of work; in fact, they are required to take 6 weeks vacation. What’s more, fathers get 2 weeks off immediately after their child is born, and mothers can get up to a year off for maternity leave, which they can divide with the father: 6 months and 6 months, 7 and 5, etc. Of course, taxes are extremely high here (sometimes over 60% of one's income) but as a result, the gap between rich and poor is much less obvious here than it is in the United States. I have yet to see a truly rundown part of Copenhagen.
While the Danish system is far from perfect, I can't help thinking that the United States could learn from its example.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Banning the Burqa?

by Oscar Pocasangre
Today, while checking out the New York Times before starting my work, I stumbled upon an article that gave me a hard case of cognitive dissonance that I'm still trying to resolve. The article discussed how French President Nicolas Sarkozy is leading a campaign to ban the Muslim burqa in France on the grounds that it is demeaning and oppressive for women. Sarkozy argued that France cannot allow for women to continue being prisoners in these garments.
I wholeheartedly agree that women should not be oppressed or kept at the margin of social life. Indeed, women are entitled to be active citizens and nothing should bar them from the day to day happenings of society. But I don't know how I feel about banning a clothing garment that is intimately associated with a religion.
Isn't this - telling people what they can and cannot wear - being too invasive of personal life? Is the French government going too far? Back in 2004, it even banned conspicuous religious symbols from schools. Doesn't this go against Article 18 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights which states that "everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to manifest his religion or belief in teaching, practice, worship and observance"?
Personally, if the government of my country were to prohibit wearing crucifixes I would feel like my right to manifest and observe my religious beliefs is being violated. I know that a crucifix does not marginalize me, but wearing it is a religious tradition in Catholicism just like wearing the burqa is in Islam. While, I don't know enough about Islam and its practices to say that women who adhere to its religious traditions should wear them, I do feel that if a woman wants to wear it and feels comfortable wearing it, she should be able to.
I do not believe that it is the garment, per se, what is oppressing women. A culture of domineering males who don't allow their wives, daugthers, or sisters to express themselves freely and limit their life opportunities in many different domains is the problem that should be addressed if any change is to be made. Moreover - and I know this sounds idealistic and might border on cliché - we should all make an effort to understand the values of other cultures and religions and recognize that many times they will differ from ours.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Ka'aba
I have been in Copenhagen for almost three weeks now. While you may be asking what human rights violations, or what touching stories about poverty and pain happen in the world's happiest welfare state, the past few weeks have taken me deep into the darkness of political refuge seekers. Denmark has accepted almost 15,000 Iraqi refugees, most of them on basis of political asylum, but it is also home for many Palestinians, Somalis and former Yugoslavians. To keep this short, while they enjoy free education and welfare and live a relatively high quality of life, being a refugee in Denmark is anything but gentle.
Researching the psycho-social conditions of these Iraqi refugees, I've spent many hours listening to their courageous stories. They come from diverse backgrounds (Baghdad, Karbala, Mosul) and have been affected by Saddam's regime for different reasons, some were involved in communist or democratic parties, some are simply Shia'a, and with others you never find out. This heterogenous community, suffering at once from both cultural isolation and internal tensions, shares the word Ka'aba, pain, in common. Ka'aba is such a common word to hear in interviews, it has become trivial to me that integration is failing for the older generations, especially when it comes to psychological distress. Complaints of racism and unemployment are anything but irregular, and when asked about three wishes, 'returning to Iraq' has so far scored my entire interviewed population. Ironically, these people only wish for an Iraq like in Saddam's era, and hopes of return after the fall of Baghdad are now slowly disappearing.
In any case, it is safe to say that Denmark has closed its gates of immigration since the loss of the Social Democratic Party in 2001, and all Iraqi refugees who sought asylum after the war were actually former translators for the Danish forces.
In any case, it is safe to say that Denmark has closed its gates of immigration since the loss of the Social Democratic Party in 2001, and all Iraqi refugees who sought asylum after the war were actually former translators for the Danish forces.In Norrebro, inner Copenhagen, the so-called immigrant ghetto where Danske and immigrant gangs lead drug wars, where Shia'a and Sunni families are described to repeat religious bloodiness, 60 Iraqi asylum seekers sit and wait in Borsons church. They have reached focal point in both local and international media as them and 250 other Iraqis are facing forced repatriation. I quote Andreas Kamm, head of the Danish Refugee Council,
"Many of the Iraqi asylum-seekers here have been in the country for five to ten years. For most of that time the situation in their country has been so unstable that the UN High Commissioner for Refugees has recommended that countries like Denmark give them protection. Denmark has ignored this. The politicians have instead insisted that people go back to a country so clearly aflame."I guess you could read more about this online, but I found a really touching article by a Danish volunteer, remembering Oskar Schindler and how history will not repeat itself again.
Happy World Refugee Day.