Talking about the Syrian refugee crisis is a tough topic that most people really don't want to discuss. Bringing it up pushes most people back into reservation, as though political opinions would surface and a quiet awkwardness would follow. People get quiet; maybe because they have nothing to say or simply just don’t know enough. And part of me gets it—the big statistics are scary. The UN is calling this the biggest humanitarian crisis of our generation, millions of refugees are living in poverty in the places that they escape to if they even survive the journey there, and 12.8 million people still in Syria are currently in “urgent need of humanitarian assistance.”
As George Clooney said after speaking with three Syrian refugee families, it’s almost easy to dismiss these big numbers. Maybe this is out of intimidation, or from the difficulty to see the relevance between the crisis and our own lives. But to challenge our minds to understand and accept the facts about this international, critical situation is now necessary to be a citizen of the world, not just of the city you’re in.
Last week, I decided to go to Lebanon for six days to see my family and friends there during my spring break. I’d been back in my country of origin multiple times in the last few years, but driving down the streets of Beirut this trip and seeing so many more people on the streets than usual was disheartening. The refugee crisis, despite my 3/4 Lebanese and 1/4 Syrian ethnicity, had still been something that I had a hard time keeping in perspective. But seeing so many homeless families and children on the streets of a city that I had done so much growing up in, feeling the physical effect it had on the city itself, and seeing the visible pain in their eyes up close— it all did so much more than just adding perspective.
But you don’t have to be Lebanese or Syrian to feel the way I did when I started to understand this tragedy. Examples are Clooney himself, and Angelina Jolie, who was also in Lebanon last week visiting the Syrian refugee camps in Bekaa Valley.
I really believe that there are too many common misconceptions about the Syrian refugees. They’re not numbers, or people who left their country with the intention of coming to new countries “expecting” people to make room for them. The fact is, the resistance they are facing is concerning, and the help they are receiving is inadequate. It’s easy to think that someone in power, somewhere out there is taking care of this for us. But there isn’t. These people are families, they are kids, they’re human just like us. They’re not thinking politically, and neither should we.
The truth is, this problem is not political or regional. It’s not “normal” just because it stems from the Middle East. What’s hard to think about, and really process, is that these refugees are not necessarily people accustomed and familiar with war just because they have lived in the Middle East. It doesn’t make it any less terrifying to physically be surrounded by total war; to see bullets fired and bombs exploding around you; just because you’ve seen it before. And, to clarify, living in Syria does not mean that you even have experienced war before this current one.
They’re not prone to violence just because of racial or religious stereotypes. On the contrary, these millions of refugees are comprised of people who had been living normal lives in Syria. They had homes, families, jobs; they went to the schools and universities and were happy and comfortable with their lives at one point like most of you reading this are. To have to get up and leave your home and your stable life in a state of emergency, and for this to happen to millions of people, is almost unimaginable. To physically see the results of it in Lebanon last week phased me.
It’s easier to listen to these conversations when they involve George Clooney and Angelina Jolie— people who I have immense respect for shining their spotlight in this direction. It’s not necessarily relatable, but that shouldn’t repel people from learning about what’s happening. Turning a blind eye as a person is one thing, but when you notice it essentially be the reaction in organizations and even countries around the world, it’s definitely more of a concern.
When I tell people about Lebanon, my instinct has always been to start with the Beirut nightlife and move into the beautiful beach resorts about thirty minutes outside the city. I always get defensive, trying to get people to see the allure of such a country that was once referred to as the Paris of the Middle East. But now, after this trip, I can’t help but wince at the shallow, incomplete image I was painting. Lebanon, a country whose entire perimeter is smaller than that of Los Angeles County, is hosting 1.2 million refugees right now. It’s more than visible. It’s almost a fifth of the country’s entire population.
There’s so much more to respect about Lebanon and its people right now. But there’s so much such a small country can do. Hundreds of thousands of people are residing in the refugee camps, and Lebanese municipalities have actually been announcing that they are running out of room to bury the deceased refugees.
I understand that there are tragedies all over the world, ones that by circumstance are just not always relevant to our lives while we attend college here in the United States. But being more informed about the humanitarian global crisis that’s going on in our lifetime can only broaden our perspectives and ground us. Learning more can’t hurt. Our perception of the problem needs to start coming closer to match reality. This is the part of it that we can control, and I’m confident it would help us more than we know.
You don’t have to be Syrian, Lebanese, Middle Eastern, religious, European, political or a philanthropist to care about what’s going on right now. And to see the horror of the situation, you truly just have to be human.
