Walled In
Anarchic and anarchist writings about migration
Monday, 5 January 2015
Sacred Spaces in the Jungle
For posterity, some writing on the awesome structures of the jungle, before they get razed by the cops*.
I've just got back from Christmas and New Year in Calais, which for anyone searching for the ultimate multi-cultural party, is perhaps the best place on Earth (picture 500 or so people and one sound-system, everyone sharing their musical traditions and dancing styles, with a huge dose of Euro-pop thrown in for good measure: hands in the air and wave it like ya just don't care yo).
During my stay I ended up spending a surprising amount of time in church. As an atheist and an anarchist this was somewhat surprising and not too little disconcerting. But this church was special, largely because of its location: the jungle.
The biggest jungle currently in Calais is known as Tioxide, after the factory that it has built up alongside. Tioxide is currently home to something like 800 people (my estimate), roughly organised into four camps along nationality lines. There is an Eritrean, Sudanese, Afghan and Ethiopian part. In the 9 or so months since this jungle started it has grown from a small collection of dwellings largely hidden in the trees to a sprawling tent city. It's been there long enough that people have started to build less temporary spaces, to diversify spacial use beyond just accommodation, and to find better ways of organising resources.
There are spaces of trade: a barbershop, a tobacconist, and a sheesha lounge, 2 restaurants / cafés and a few general stores. There are spaces of religious worship: numerous mosques and recently, a church. I come from the west and perhaps there seems like some reason why I would be drawn to the church and not the mosque (there are many mosques, but one is huge and as impressive as the church for sure), but it kinda felt like an accident. The congregation requested a microphone for their Sunday service and no borders provided it. Delivering it was my access to the space.
The church has been in Tioxide around 3 months. It was built and is used, mainly by the Eritrean Catholic community. On the outside it is nothing more than a large tent with a cross on top. Step inside and you enter another world. The space is doused in candlelight and incense. It is kept warm and intimate-feeling with rugs and wall hangings. It is made beautiful with religious icons. It is a gentle, peaceful and deeply sacred-feeling space. It is made that way by the effort of making it, using it and caring for it under such adverse conditions. Being there takes you away from the jungle completely, and yet it is so of that space (the artificial factory sounds, and smells of burning rubbish and wood smoke remind you where you are). To be inside is to feel humbled.
It makes me feel that the role religion plays and the meaning it carries can vary dramatically depending on the space you are in. Back in the UK, religion plays no role in my life (Jewish family gatherings an exception). I see religion as a domination: something that stifles freedom and creativity and leaves us scared of the world. But that doesn't really translate to Calais where there is a much more obvious, pervasive and powerful structure of domination in the form of sovereignty and its border control.
To have faith in Calais is a weapon when one is forced to live so precariously. In such a place, religion and the ability to worship together feels like a subversive force as well as a way that individuals stay strong. It is subversive because it represents making your life regardless of how forbidden you are from doing so. That church is a centre for a community, and it is – unintentionally, but that doesn't really matter – a big FUCK YOU to the authorities. It is that which is subversive by being normal in the wrong place.
It is a minor miracle because it represents thirst for life and humanity and community and care and all the things that people forced to live in the jungles are denied or presented as incapable of being or having. The church (and the mosques and all the other sacred spaces in the jungle) scream of humanity. To be a witness to the faith of others in a place like this feels like such a privilege. To be a witness is also to be a participant, and that feels amazing too, because you are a part of creating something deeply meaningful there: a collective strength.
* All the jungles and the big squat "Galloo" have now been served with eviction notices, but no fixed date has been given for this.
Monday, 17 November 2014
Citizenship, sovereignty and doing citizenship differently
This
week David Cameron announced the possible creation of powers to
cancel the passports for up to two years of UK nationals who travel
abroad to fight for the Islamic State. The measures are designed to
counter the 'existential threat' posed to Britain by 'extremists'.
Civil liberties campaigners have accused the Government of 'dumping
suspect citizens like toxic waste', because the plans would
effectively make people stateless by stripping them of their
citizenship.
If
you're interested in freedom and equality then there are plenty of
arguments against this proposal. For me, what's most sickening about
it is it's such a blatant wielding of sovereign power over people,
and in a way that completely ignores issues of race and class among
other factors.
But
the notion of citizenship is not one that sits easily within an
anarchist perspective. Theoretically at least, to criticise this
proposal – and effectively argue in favour of citizenship - can
also feel problematic.
Citizenship
is
conventionally thought of as membership of a political community -
the nation - contained within a political territory - the
state. The
'benefits' of
membership exist as
rights and responsibilities conferred upon us
by a political authority. Hence,
citizenship
is fundamental to state sovereignty and vice versa, so
being pro-citizenship
is a problem if you are anti-state.
But
what about thinking of citizenship without a state?
If
we strip it back to basics, citizenship can be thought of as a set
common of agreements between people on what we see as our rights and
responsibilities to each other. I could say that it is a system that
seeks to instil and guarantee care and equality between people. In
doing this it is a part of making a community and therefore a part of
making a political – power-full – space. Citizenship adds up to a
set of agreements that make us recognise each other as political
subjects.
The
problem is that citizenship within a state is something so far
removed from the idea of agreements between consenting people. Within
a racist, patriarchal capitalist system that has a long history,
citizenship is distorted beyond recognition as an agreement that we
ever consented to.
Furthermore,
within the framework of the state, citizenship has become thought of
only as a legal status that is given to people by the state;
something that is static and unchanging. From this perspective it is
rarely approaches as a process that is enacted by people, and
re-created all the time in the way that people behave as citizens or
not. It is a legal status too, but it is also defined by the way we
behave, and in that sense is beyond the views of the government as to
who or what is a good citizen. We enact citizenships and in doing
that, change it. In that sense citizenship is dynamic. Through our
action we reinforce, as well as contest and hence change what
citizenship is and means.
Some
say it is this very distinction that is the problem; that if we need
to tell each other we are equal, then there's some kind of inequality
already present for that to be necessary. But I think this
unnecessarily presents social organisation as inherently negative or
authoritarian. Whereas wherever people live in common, having ways to
make visible hierarchies can be an incredibly positive way of
nurturing equality that would be extremely difficult without them.
Citizenship can enable equality.
Coming
up with ways that people can enshrine care, well-being and equality
into their relationships with each other is very much a concern of
anarchism. So I don't think its citizenship per se that's the
problem, but how it's used within the state system.
Thinking
of citizenship in terms of agreements of care that politicise its
subjects enables us to separate citizenship from the state, because
it enables recognition that we enact or create citizenships all the
time, in many different spaces and communities beyond the state. Acts
of citizenship are acts where people recognise each other as valuable
in and of themselves. In that sense they happen between people who
might already be excluded from citizenship / denied certain rights.
People without papers coming together to discus how to organise their
camps in Calais is an act of citizenship even if it is not generally
recognised as anything political at all. Whenever a group comes
together and discusses how they want to be together, that is a little
act of citizenship.
I
am against Cameron's proposal because I am against the dominant
conceptualisation of citizenship that is implied in it; that sees
citizenship only as a web of rights conferred by the state. So the
issue for me is not about how to be anti this proposal and also anti
citizenship, but rather that we talk about citizenship in a different
way, and continue to focus and explore the citizenships that we
create and enact in our localities.
Monday, 13 October 2014
What does listening to BBC radio news on repeat do to you?
It sends you to bed, mad with rage, yet exhausted, having spent all your energy shouting expletives at the radio all day. So, this article is coming to you live, from bed.
I work in a little shop, and often have the radio on. Yay for music. Boo for totally shit news coverage. Two of the major news stories, repeated on the hour were the following:
News item number 1: NHS workers staged their first walk out strike in 32 years, demanding a 1% pay increase (although the term 'increase' should be used loosely since earnings have been cut by 15% in real terms under the coalition, claim staff). Cue interviews with strikers and statements from the Tory's, which went something like this: 'we can't give these guys what they're asking for because if we did, we would have to cut more NHS jobs'. Put another way: 'If we gave you what you wanted, we might have to sack you'.
But why is that the only option? Why why why why why can't we increase expenditure to the NHS and, I don't know, stop funding Trident quite, for example?
News item number 2: In the run up to the general election the major TV channels are going to host a series of 3 live debates among the front runners for parliament. One of these debates will feature Nigel Farage (and none of them will feature the Greens).
Why does the BBC keep treating Farage as if he is the latest thing that everybody wants for Christmas? All this fluffing of Farage makes the BBC's undertone sound too much like its a when rather than an if UKIP will enter government. What a loada vile biased bullshit.
Friday, 13 June 2014
Statement from those on hunger strike in Calais - 11th June 2014
Taken from Calais Migrant Solidarity
"As agreed, the exiles occupying the place of food distribution took breakfast together this morning. They formed two groups, those who will continue to eat and those who are fasting. Those fasting had slightly bigger portions. They sat in the middle of the courtyard. Yesterday they had a list of 53 people willing to get involved. By late morning they were a large thirty or so, and were waiting for those to join them who have tried to cross that night – which they will no longer be able to do during the fast. We should know more in the afternoon how many are on hunger strike.
Their spokesperson can be reached at 07 53 93 21 53 (he speaks English).
Here is the text of the call out on which they agreed:
'FROM THE MIGRANTS OF CALAIS TO THE FRENCH AND BRITISH AUTHORITIES
After the destruction of our camps and our occupation of the food distribution place, French authorities came two times to meet us. They announced us they will come again to meet us Thursday June 3. Nobody came and we are without any news from them.
Today Wednesday June 11, a part us, with the support of all of us, begins a hunger strike. We ask the French and British authorities to to resume the interrupted dialogue and meet with us without delay.
We remind them our demands :
- Houses in Calais for all the migrants who wish to go to England and the asylum seekers forced to live in the street;
- Houses with proper hygienic conditions : toilets, showers, garbage collection;
- Houses where we can come and go at any time to be able to keep trying to cross to England;
- Houses safe from the police controls and mistreatments and from evictions;
- To have access to three meals a day;
- To open negotiations between France and the United Kingdom in order that people can access the British territory.'”
Tuesday, 10 June 2014
A Different Calais Narrative
This article is not about the crisis of the sans papiers in Calais. Its not
about the regular evictions and camp destructions; the deaths, the
losses and the urgent needs. It's not about the multitude of
repeating ways that people are denied dignity in that dead-end
gateway. It's not about how or why this makes Calais a constant and
desperate crisis-scape.
Its
about another shade of the story we tell about the struggle of the
sans papiers and those who show solidarity with them. It's a
reflection on an experience I had in Calais.
Lorries
are banned from driving on roads in France on a Sunday. Because of
this, Saturday night is a time when people who are trying to cross
from Calais to the UK can rest. On this particular Saturday
night some Calais
Migrant Solidarity folks
decided to hold a party, and
a handful of us turned
up to food distribution (the
place where charities give out a nightly meal) with
a sound system. It was raining hard. We
had a level of
enthusiasm among us that
was more suitable to
having some cocoa and an early night.
But the rain cleared and
things started to change.
Our
crew joined a small
group of people
huddled round a fire on the edge of a camp of tents where around 150
people lived (it's gone now. Its got razed to the ground a couple of
weeks ago). The
tinny music that
whispered out of our
sound system was easy to miss, but
people started to gather around the fire anyway. Instruments
appeared from peoples' tents. People from different musical
traditions, singing in different languages, took it in turns to
perform to the growing crowd. There was music from Pakistan, Iran,
Afghanistan, Syria... People danced and performed to each other.
Bottles of wine were passed around. In the camp, among its rubbish
and puddles and dubious smells, in the mist and cold and silence of
the port, there was so much laughter. We partied into the night and
it was so good!
To
have a party like this in a place like Calais is something of a minor
miracle. It is joyful and creative and essentially normal, yet it is
this normality that also makes an event such as this transformative.
It points to the possibility of another world and another way of
being. There are two things about the party that illustrate this.
The
first thing is how the party represented a dynamic based on equality.
Us 'CMS crew' came with a sound system and the desire to make
something happen. But the party wasn't of our making. Something
emerged that was beyond us; an essential critical mass of energy
created by all of us who gathered there. It was owned by no-one,
created by everyone. The party re-affirmed dignity in this communal
creativity and at that moment everybody was equal. For me, this
equality is one of the things that gave this event such power. It's
the cornerstone of a radical solidarity, and is what distinguishes it
from say, aid work, because it seeks to change the balance of power
between people that is often fixed through differences in race,
class, nationality and so on. This isn't the only example in Calais.
When we have made and maintained social centres together, and lived
together in squats or camps, again we have created moments of
equality across our differences. The squat Victor Hugo is a beautiful
example of this.
The
second thing is the wider effect created by a moment of being
together in equality. What is created is fundamentally different from
and a challenge to the logic of hierarchy that is foundational to the
dominant structures that make up our social world (here I am talking
about 'structures' such as capitalism, racism, patriarchy and statism
that make certain kinds of dominating
behaviour seem 'normal'). The party represented an alternative (if
temporary) reality now that doesn't fit within a social reality based
on hierarchy and domination. In not fitting – in other words in
being 'uncodified' - dominant social reality cannot stamp it out. The
police for example, are largely impotent to do anything about these
parties. These moments of 'everyday subversive activity' are what the
authorities cannot stand, because they point to a persistent dignity
without permission, and a wilful disregard for any 'right to exist'
that the authorities seem to claim as their own.
I
think this party forms part of a different narrative of the struggle
of the sans papiers, one that is intimately connected to, yet very
different from the one of chaos. It is a narrative of joy, dignity
and equality. This other narrative is important because it
signals a different way of being that rejects hierarchy and
domination. This narrative is often left unsaid I think, because
amongst all the chaos, violence and sadness of Calais it can seem
crass to focus on moments of joy. Yet I think there is subversive
power in this joyful narrative, and I also have the feeling that
should we pay more attention to the joy, dignity and equality we are
sometimes a part of in Calais, what we
achieve together may be much more powerful, as well as more joyful.
Tuesday, 27 May 2014
The UK Immigration Act 2014 - Legislating for a loss of dignity
A
couple of weeks ago (May 14thm to be precise) the new UK Immigration Bill passed into law. The Immigration Act 2014 brings in an array of new measures that, in the
words of Theresa May, focus on 'making it harder for people who are
here illegally to stay here". The act – along with this
statement - could have come straight out of a UKIP election manifesto (if they had one).
The
range of measures is vast and comprehensive. They include extensions
in the use of force in immigration matters (including deportation),
new healthcare charges for people without permanent residency, and
greater restrictions on bail for those in immigration detention. They
extend powers to enter and search homes and workplaces, and add new
powers to search people. This means that in a range of ordinary and
every day encounters, from renting a property to opening a bank
account or attending a place of learning or worship, people will be
required to identify and account for themselves. Opportunities to
appeal immigration decisions that label people as illegal in the
first place have been further limited through cutbacks in legal aid.
Presumably this measure has been taken instead of moves at improving
immigration decisions (and it is worth mentioning that last year 32%
of deportation decisions and 49% of entry clearance applications were
successfully appealed)?
The
trend of British Governments' demonising immigrants and using this
image as justification to further marginalise, oppress and
criminalise them is sadly nothing new, but this act sets a new
watermark. In removing access to fundamental public services, the
effects are likely to include poorer health, more homelessness, more
destitution, and more occurrences of mental illness for the people
these measures are aimed at. Removing access to healthcare does not
remove people's need for healthcare or remove those people who need
it. Making it illegal to rent out homes does not remove peoples' need
for housing or remove those who need to be housed. Denying access to
places of learning or worship does not remove those people who need
to learn or pray. It just marginalises, demoralises and scares
people. It weakens their support networks and makes them more
vulnerable. They will create greater insecurity, isolation and social
exclusion. But that's the point. 'Punish them them till they leave'
is the subtext. These measures effectively legislate for a loss of
dignity.
The
issue as to why we allow for people to be treated like this is
justified on the grounds that they are here illegally. Yet why is it
that certain people are labelled as illegal in the first place?
Illegality doesn't convey some kind of passive 'state of nature' but
is a label created by the state. And when Theresa May talks about
"making it harder for people who are here illegally to stay
here" she brushes over a fundamental flaw in the logic of the
state's approach to immigration.
In
recent years the grounds on which a person from outside the EEA can
qualify to live in the UK have shrunk. At the same time the powers to
enforce the exclusion and criminalisation of anyone classified as
'illegal' have grown. The need to 'get tougher' becomes
self-fulfilling: we need more measures to catch 'illegal people',
because the nets of who it is we define as illegal are being cast
wider and wider. This backward logic effectively leads to the
continuous expansion of who it is that can be considered illegal and
hence legitimately excluded. And this logic of exclusion does not
only apply to immigrants. From the stripping back of the NHS that
excludes people from accessing healthcare to cuts in welfare that
excludes people from social security, we see this trend in other
areas of all our lives. I don't want to live in a country where
people are denied the right to live in dignity.
When
this attack has presented itself in the past, people have resisted.
Some of the most inspiring forms of resistance have been those where
people have supported those under attack in their efforts to continue
to carry out everyday normal activities. For example, since the mid
2000's groups have formed to resist the dawn raids carried out by
the (then) UK
Border Agency
by being present with
potential deportees when such raids have taken place.
Around the same time,
when the government started issuing vouchers rather than cash
to asylum seekers (that could only be used in certain shops), some
people started schemes whereby people could exchange their vouchers
for cash. In response to this new act, we also need to start thinking
about Like these acts of solidarity, we need to start showing our
resistance to this new act, and to the tide of hatred that it
represents.
Thursday, 20 March 2014
This Community is Grieving
This community is grieving
This story was originally posted at calaismigrantsolidarity.wordpress.comA fourth person was killed on Friday night whilst in a truck trying to cross to England.
Three people were in the truck and realised it was going in the wrong direction, so they made noise for the truck to stop. It braked suddenly and a person from Ethiopia hit his head. Paramedics were called but he was dead on arrival.
People from different camps gathered for a ceremony before the Sunday football.
It is four people now killed in one week.
This community is grieving.
http://calaismigrantsolidarity.wordpress.com/2014/03/17/this-community-is-grieving/
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