Power games in Migration

The madness I was working in has finally surfaced. My thoughts are that this, in itself, is a blessing. For once, after so many months, I can sit down and write a blog entry. It is not easy to think straight when the environment around you is warped, your own sense of self becomes distorted, while your humanity is reduced to ashes.

Seven years ago I decided to take as my B.A. dissertation in anthropology the topic of asylum seekers in Malta, more specifically in relation to identity studies which at the time were gaining momentum in the discipline. Anthropology is a vast subject – but the market is limited. After all, who is interested in stories when nowadays policy-makers rely more on numbers than the human experience? Myself, I am no sociologist. Statistics are useful, but only up to a point. I believe that even the best-conducted survey methods are, at the end of the day, merely scratching the surface. Words and experiences draw a more complex picture of the dynamics that the people go through.

I chose migration studies because that is where EU funds seem to be invested; I was studying for a career, so I took a line that seemed fertile. At the same time I also wanted to be with Africans (the type of migrants I have specialized on) because I am, in effect, a sensitive person; I feel for the underdog, and whenever possible I try to stand up for him.

What I did not take into consideration is the kind of man I am vis-à-vis the sector I was aiming at. The first variable is covered above; the second one is more complex, but can be summarised thus: in a sphere where there is a lot of power and money involved, it (now, in retrospection) stands to reason that the stakes are high; individuals will take profit from (initial) slight discrepancies and loop-holes. These variances then gather their own momentum. Like a snowball, they start growing bigger as more time elapses and more people join the game. Situate all of this in a small island like Malta, with its 300 square kilometres and circa 1500 inhabitants per square kilometre – and the ripples become waves. Those who are already at the top want to keep their status (and pay-cheques), while new players have to pass their criteria. What are these? Simple: the ability to turn a blind eye on what really matters – what can in effect create a better situation for those for which the system has been (purportedly) been set up – while focusing on what I simply call navel gazing. Conferences, talks, meetings and ethnic events are set up. NGOs talk ad nauseam about rights and obligations of the government to the vulnerable people in question – but the fact still remains that all discourse goes round and round in circles. There are good people within these micro-movements, and they do try their best to take act, for they sincerely do believe that something can be changed for the better. Yet from afar it is like screaming underwater: nothing comes out of it, simply because they are placed into definite pigeon-holes, those where the mileage gained in where matters is kept to a minimum. Even if a street protest is staged (and this has been done before), the powers that be already know that this will be simply a fickle news, of transient interest, talked about publicly in that day’s tabloids, only to end as an ‘interesting topic of discussion’ in the coffee shops where these ‘hippies’ hang out (“and how dare they say that there is no democracy in the country when we let them clown about!”, goes the common man’s thinking).

Before CGI took over in the cinema industry, Greek-Roman movies would involve a lot of people for casting. Of particular interest to the present blog is the 1981 movie, Clash of the Titans. I remember watching the bit where miniature figures were placed in their niches by the gods, and thinking in awe, ‘how could there be so much power in someone’s hands?’; the question remains with me, more ardent than ever: how can anyone be allowed to manipulate truth and even a person’s own individuality – and life – only for egoistic, self-centred motives? The game outlined above is exactly that: people, playing gods, toying around with countless lives. It is not only the Africans or the people who try to stand up for their rights that are silenced; it is also for those who are in the system, and are being denied the opportunities to do what they are good at, in the sector they are working in.

I have spoken with many people, from police officers to engineers. This dynamic is endemic in little Malta.

So many opt to remain silent. They joke about it. Others simply quit, and find something else, something less than their capacities, reasoning out that if you cannot beat them, nor join them, then quit and be at least peaceful.

I knew, from since working in the Open Centre for asylum seekers, that my fate was sealed. Have I applied with other organizations? I have. Did I fare well in the interviews? I have, where I was given the opportunity. But, why should someone, relatively anonymous in the public eye, be preferred over someone with more contacts with those who really count – i.e. the stakeholders? All the knowledge in the world counts for nothing, if you are no one in the public eye. And by this I do not mean being prominent in the rights for asylum seekers; no – to be someone that counts, you have to know how to manipulate people and events to suit your needs and the lush comforts of those who wield the sceptre.

Alas, I am not like that.

So I get the worst treatment. I get beaten to a pulp, in a very subtle psychological manner. I am devaluated until I started to believe the fiction that was being forced on me.

Until, by some grace, I happened to do my duty, as always, and suddenly the tables were reversed. Suddenly I could see beyond the cell that I was segregated into. And this time, I had also other people to see for themselves that I was worth something good – and through their eyes, I finally awoke from the manipulative game that, like a sedative, I was falling into; a small voice was still calling out for me to wake up, but I was becoming too numb to listen to it any longer. All I wanted to get enough money, and leave everything behind me.

Upon waking up, we are all hazy for the first few seconds. But imagine a day when you are still stuck in between dreaming and your daily affairs, when reality just becomes one big mess. The reaction is to go on the defensive. Luckily I read enough warfare strategy by the masters of the old to realise what was happening – and I reacted according to the events’ flow.

Now, the stakes are up, and each side has set up its own barricades. I can say that so far I have played a good game. It is a game, for in light of death, nothing really matters, all is evanescent. But the game has high implications nevertheless.

Now it’s a matter of seeing what the next move is. I have not run away. I decided to stand my ground. In so doing, I have lost much. I have lost a job, and my career opportunities in migration are totally over. I have stood up against people who have too much to loose. A man like me is an inconvenience that is better to segregate in the doldrums.

So now I wait for the next move.

And, yet, deep down, I am at peace. I know that I have not bent to the corruption that pervades the migration sector in Malta. In the meanwhile, I write, read, and look for another job, be whatever it is, to get by with the Malamute whose life I rescued, and whose happiness is all I really need.

 

The secret to true happiness

Friends. Prayer. Love.

Forget about money. On its’ own, sex sounds hollow. Food brings satisfaction, but a lone plate on the table gives carviar the equivalence of stale bread.  The best restaurant food did not even compare to the moments when I have shared a humble plate of addis (cooked lentils) with Africans, all dipping from the same plate.

As part of my research, I spent a good deal with Africans. These were people whose life is dotted with stories of loss and suffering: they have left families and friends, crossed the desert, some more than once. Many have spent years in Libya, scraping what money they could save in order to take a boat, and try their luck in the Mediterranean. One would think these people – men and women – to be hardened by life. Nothing could be further from the truth. Although still suffering, because their present conditions are far from ideal, a meal is still shared, tea is still offered, a smile is always present.

Make no mistake. The three pillars of true happiness is no discovery of mine. I owe this insight to the Africans I have spoken with throughout all these years.

 

 

What’s the catch?

Familiar situation: a generous offer, or an unexpected (‘too-good-to-be-true’) situation knocks on the door. Perhaps it comes even at a time when a good pick-me-up is needed.

And we become suspicious.

Thinking that there will be a ‘catch’, a payment of some sort in return for a generous favour, often times we either refuse it, or otherwise spend a considerable amount of time ‘weighing the pros and cons’. In the meanwhile, even if we accept, the object of our attention no longer has the initial appeal.

It doesn’t have to be that way.

The real issue is not the offer, regardless of quality or quantity. The real cause for concern is our perception: in whatever we do, there is always a giving and a taking. It’s inevitable. As ordinary human beings, we are concerned about the self. It’s a survival tool, without it we would simply wither away, seeing no reason for our existence. The issue at heart is that we center ourselves in a negative space: life being a give-and-take, the assumed impression is that the ratio between being taken from vis-a-vis being given to us is low.

A call for a fresher perspective is needed: all our actions will lead to some loss. When we breathe, we are sustaining ourselves – but we are also allowing old age to creep onto us. Paramount to us is then to understand that life, and us all in it, are tied in circles of reciprocities and exchange. It is the way we grow and mature as individuals within a community. There is no other way.

 

Persistence

It’s the easiest thing in the world: seeing ourselves as too small for a task, and shy away in hiding. I am no better than the rest of the world – like everyone else, I am human, fallible to mistakes and guilty of procrastination.

Drifting off is the mind’s natural coping mechanism against a reality sometimes too harsh to face. The trick is to accept this reality without fighting. Rather than tormenting ourselves over the ‘ought’, it would be more beneficial to look into the causes that led to whatever state of affairs we would be loathing at. Prepare for changes. It is in these moments that we are open to new forms of learning at times even handle undertakings which we would not even have dreamed about in the ‘normal’ routine.

To back off is easy. But to hold on, despite all appearances, notwithstanding all the adversities – that is where a person shows true value.

 

Chaos leads to growth

To excel is not necessarily a matter of wanting it, not of working hard at it, all the time. To excel in what we do, in today’s information society, demands of us innovation: thinking pro-actively about the task at hand therefore necessitates we actually give up – for some time – on the perfection we set our eyes on.

When we allow ourselves to go adrift, we are then in a better position to look at our work from outside the box we cocoon ourselves in, and to see possibilities of expansion we were previously blind to. Sometimes, what we thought as important might turn out to be quite irrelevant under this new light.

 

The greatest gift…

How often do we listen to what the others have to say? Many times, especially as we grow older, we don’t really listen, but rather hear what is being said. The difference is a crucial one: listening to a person is an act of love. Hearing is the opposite – the speaker is rarely acknowledged existence in the first place. All we do is to merely glance at the words’ outline through the thick shades we wear, layer upon layer, in order to protect our eyes.

Perhaps, for Valentine’s Day, the perfect gift would be to simply sit down, and rediscovering each other, once more. To pause, suspend the world ‘out there’, and simply – to listen.