Immigration: What if it were you?

Immigration:  What if it were you?

The current refugee crisis in the Middle East and by extension, Europe, is troubling on so many levels. When coupled with the disturbing anti-immigration rhetoric in the U.S., it causes me to think about this: If you thought it could be you, would you be kinder? 

We in the west have become so accustomed to peace, stability, and the rule of law.  I sometimes think we’re victims of our own comfort to the point where we can’t even begin to relate to the risks of an unstable and unjust world.  We worry about having enough money to afford our next vacation, college tuition, or that long-anticipated kitchen renovation.  We don’t think about whether or not we’ll be able to provide basic food, clothing, or shelter.  We worry about sexual assaults on campuses and in bars, but when we lay down in our beds to sleep, we don’t worry about whether we’ll survive the night.  When our children travel, we worry about whether they’re wearing their seat belts.  We don’t worry about whether they’re being packed in an airless shipping container, or upended in a small boat in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.  Our problems are first world problems.  And if you’re not living the nightmare of forced migration, it’s tough to relate.

But only a couple of generations ago, more than 60 million refugees were crisscrossing Western Europe desperately looking for food and shelter and trying to escape the violence wrought by a world war.   Here in the United States, during the American civil war, there were more than 200,000 refugees in my home state of Virginia alone.  During the great depression, more than 2.5 million economic refugees were forced to flee the plains states of the mid-west.   History teaches us that no place is safe forever.  It can happen here.

Why then are we so unsympathetic?  Why are we so eager to espouse the hard line?  Yes, there are myriad good reasons to ensure that the laws governing migration are strictly enforced, but how about compassionate enforcement as well?  Take Syria, for example (please).  During the past year, I’ve had the privilege of working with Syrian civil society leaders that are desperately attempting to maintain some semblance of governance in areas the Assad regime no longer controls.  As varying militias and armed factions move in and out of their home cities, these brave, talented, committed individuals and groups have done everything in their power to protect and preserve if not their way of life, at least the ability to restore it once peace is (finally) achieved.  And what has been our national response?  Mostly to try to train and equip various under-vetted armed factions and power brokers that we hope will support our political agenda when the fighting is over.  Meanwhile, the ability of those who want to stay and stabilize has degenerated precipitously.    Working with them from a Turkish safe haven, I couldn’t help but think, “but for the grace of God, this could be me.”  So as little regard as I had for current western policy toward the Middle East, it was still a personal call to action.

So what can you do?  A lot.  Contribute to organizations like Physicians for Peace, Doctors Without Borders, the International Organization for Migration, and others who are striving to provide basic humanitarian services, advocacy, and protection.  Pressure politicians for more coherent, fair, and humane paths to citizenship within the rule of law.  Support local law enforcement efforts to combat human trafficking and protect under-served migrant and homeless populations.  Ensure that the immigrants who clean your house, work in your yard, and renovate your home actually receive the minimum wage.  Volunteer your time; contribute your tithe; sponsor a family; raise your voice to those who can do something about it.  

If you really thought it could be you, would you care more?  I hope so, because it can be you. We live in a privileged world today, but it’s a fragile one.  Tomorrow it could be any one of us.  Think about that, and act accordingly.  

#LikeAGirl (part 1) -- This morning, I said goodbye to my oldest daughter as she set out to begin her new career as a US Army Field Artillery Officer.  She is one of the first women allowed to serve at a tactical level, leading troops in howitzer batteries, performing as a fire support officer, and doing everything that men have been allowed to do over the 240-year history of the Artillery Corps.  Her opportunity represents a tremendous milestone for a society that claims to believe in equal rights for women, but has not always practiced what it has preached.  Her entry on active duty also coincides with the 68th anniversary of the day that Florence Blanchfield became the first female @USArmy officer, so I thought it was worthwhile to step back and look at women’s rights, and what it means to act #LikeAGirl.

First Female Army Officer, 1947

US Army Captain Michelle Hughes, being honored by President Reagan for her achievements as a paratrooper, 1985

As women, we are told, from the moment we're old enough to dream, that we’re different.  Our differences are rarely described as possibilities.  Instead, they’re expressed as limitations.  When I was commissioned as a Military Intelligence Officer in 1979, the first thing I was told was that I was being held to a lower standard than the guys, that Congress had chosen to limit my assignment options, and that my leadership opportunities would be constrained as a result.  How’s that for an encouraging way to start a new career!

I then had to fight to get special training that was automatically given to male officers.  Airborne School, where soldiers learn how to jump out of perfectly good airplanes, fully loaded for combat, was one of such opportunity.  Once I finally got to the school at Ft. Benning, GA, I was told day in and day out that I had only been allowed in so that I could “get the badge;”  I would never receive an airborne (Paratrooper) assignment; and I would never actually practice what I was being trained to do. 

After calling in every connection I had, I then managed to get myself posted to Ft. Bragg, NC, the “Home of the Airborne,” but the privilege came with caveats.  I was informed that I could only serve in certain units, that the usual junior officer leadership positions would not be open to me, and I would just have to be satisfied with what I was “given” – that I was lucky to be there at all.  Never mind that I was one of the strongest runners in my unit, had passed the men’s standards on the physical fitness qualification tests, and was academically near the top of my class in intelligence training. 

In my performance evaluations during those first few years, I was told I was too pretty to be successful; that I looked too young; that my troops would never fully accept a women leader; that I was just going to eventually get married and have children, so the Army was not going to make an investment in my future by ranking me against my peers according to my performance; and that I was only there because leadership needed a few token women to show off to visiting Congressmen.  None of these things had anything to do with how I well was doing my job or accomplishing my military mission.  Regardless, everyone who rated me based on these factors thought they were completely justified in doing so.  Incidentally, my roommate, who was also a top performer, was told that SHE was too unattractive and looked too old to ever gain the respect of her troops – our Battalion Commander thought that was a perfectly legitimate basis for evaluation as well.  When I was selected as one of the first cohort of women to be assigned to the elite, 82^nd Airborne Division, male junior officers in the Division actively and openly conspired to do everything possible to ensure that I and the dozen or so women officers who were selected along with me would fail.  It may seem crazy now, but back then, (in the pre-Tailhook days -- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tailhook_scandal) no one in my unit indicated they thought this was wrong.

More than 30 years later, as a Senior U.S. Government civilian in Afghanistan, I found myself working for one of those guys, who was by then a three-star general in charge of training the Afghan National Security Forces.  When he realized I had been one of that first cohort of women in the 82^nd that he had so actively opposed, he apologized.   Since that time, he told me, he had come to realize the contributions that women make to our Armed Forces.  He mentioned the skilled military women he had relied on throughout the course of his career, the personality traits they brought to the command environment, the different perspectives they brought to strategic and operational planning, their grit, their drive, and their moral and physical courage, which he had seen firsthand in Afghanistan and Iraq.  He told me this was why, in one of the most challenging environments in the world for gender equality, he had made integration of women into the Afghan National Army and Police one of his top priorities. (His actions, during my time working for him, bore this out – it wasn’t just talk; he was living it.)  After our discussion, whenever we met with senior Afghan security officials, he would introduce me to his counterparts as one of the women who had taught him how wrong he had been.  In succinct operational terms, he would explain to them why, if Afghanistan's security forces were to succeed, they had to leverage the talent and dedication of Afghan women.  

When I was growing up, no one ever encouraged me to do the things that made me a trailblazer.  There was no Title IX – when I was preparing to take the West Point physical qualification test, I had to join the boys’ cross-country team in order to train, but I wasn’t allowed to compete.  Cheerleading was almost my only opportunity to earn a varsity letter, essential if I was to be competitive for the Military Academy or an ROTC scholarship.  Cheerleading was also one of the few activities where I could build the confidence I needed to perform in front of a crowd.  No one encouraged my goal of becoming a military leader and a national security professional.  I was seen as a bit odd.  "Why would a girl would want to do such a thing?" I was asked.  (Over and over again)  Was I some kind of "women’s libber?”  The question was NOT meant as a compliment.

That was then.  This is now.  In the U.S. at least, the legal impediments to women's equality have mostly been stripped away, although cultural impediments remain.  We have a leading Presidential candidate who is a woman.  We have women generals and admirals at all levels in our armed services.  We’ve had so many women cabinet secretaries by now that their selection barely merits notice.  The Secretary of the Air Force is a woman.  Women have served honorably in our modern wars; two have earned Silver Stars for valor.

But I want to say this: we are still not there.  Real parity doesn’t yet exist.  On a personal level, I often  find myself, even now, the only woman in the room for national security discussions who has any real operational experience.  I'm usually the only woman who has a seat at the table and a speaking role.  My daughters, one of whom is an enlisted Marine, continue to be belittled and harassed by their colleagues.  Their presence – their right to be wearing the same uniform and the same rank – continues to be questioned by guys whose asses they regularly kick in physical, academic, and leadership tests.  As the brilliant ad campaign #LikeAGirl by “Always” so beautifully points out, girls today are continually reminded of their limitations.  Almost from the day they are born.  Despite my own best efforts, my girls -- a soldier and a Marine -- are no exception.

Enough already.  We need to set a better example for the rest of the world – it’s time to get with the program, and halt the inequality.

Remembering Auschwitz

St. Maximilian Kolbe's Cell at Auschwitz -- this was the only photo I could bring myself to take

Remembering Auschwitz – Today is the 70^th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz by Soviet military forces in 1945, so I thought it appropriate to take a few moments to reflect on genocide, history, human cost, and moral obligation. 

Auschwitz was the physical manifestation of the Third Reich’s so-called final solution, and it wasn't just one installation.  It was actually a network of concentration and extermination camps, established in Poland in 1940, that the Nazis kept building almost until the end of the war.  It’s pretty incredible when you think about it.  With everything else that was going on in the Reich, the Germans continued to pour their own blood and treasure into improving Auschwitz’s efficiency and expanding its reach.  The level of deliberation, calculation, and commitment to the horrific mission of the camps by so many otherwise rational, cultured, educated people is mind-boggling -- and a frightening testimony to the power of evil over the human heart.

I visited Auschwitz in 2003, not really knowing what to expect.  I knew its history.  But when you visit a concentration camp, or any other location where unspeakable horror has been perpetrated by or upon other human beings, you find yourself wondering what’s appropriate.  For example, I pulled my camera out to take a picture in front of the notorious “Arbeit Macht Frei” sign at the entrance to the camp.  Then I hastily put the camera back.  There were tours taking group photos and I was offended.  It just seemed disrespectful, even if it was intended to memorialize respectfully, so I ended up taking only two pictures during my entire visit.  Both were of the cell where the German Priest, Maximilian Kolbe starved to death in order to save a fellow prisoner.  I took the pictures because my church in Germany where I was living at the time, was the Parish of Saint Maximilian Kolbe.  It had been a bold move to name a German church after a modern saint who had died as a result of German atrocities.  My fellow parishioners (all German) wanted to see, from a pilgrim's perspective, the place where he died.      

The second thing that struck me was that Auschwitz was not just a crime against the Jews.  Yes, more than 1.1 million Jews are estimated to have died there.  But lost in that catastrophic quantity is that fact that tens of thousands of Slavs, Gypsies, homosexuals, Communists, Russian POW’s, and other Nazi-perceived sub-humans and enemies of the state perished there as well.  Their tragedy, however, is often reduced to a footnote.  I guess it’s a matter of scope and scale, but how is it that we get to the point where we process the murder of tens of thousands of people as being less significant?   

And then there were the shoes.  They really got to me, those buildings full of shoes.  The hair, teeth, and personal effects were moving too, but I couldn't tear myself away from the shoes.  In photos, it’s the high heels and baby shoes that stand out – familiar artifacts from “civilized” lives interrupted.  In real life, however, what I noticed was that the piles of shoes were full of rough-hewn wooden clogs, tattered scraps of old leather, and felt slippers designed to be tied on with pieces of rope and string.  These were not the footwear of city dwellers, shopkeepers, doctors, schoolteachers, housewives, and their children.  They were the shoes of the most poor and the most vulnerable.  The people who left clogs and foot-rags behind were not the ones who kept journals, wrote memoirs (if they survived) or had portraits and certificates to memorialize lives and accomplishments.  Instead, they were likely illiterate, anonymous, and without resources or champions.  I remember thinking, as I looked at the shoes, about the stories that hadn't been written.  How many holocaust accounts are out there that document the experience of peasant farmers, beggars, and gypsies?  I couldn't recall any, and it saddened me that while we maintain that all human life has equal value, the narrative of genocide is still influenced by caste and education. 

These are only a few of my reflections, but what it all comes down to is this: We tell ourselves that we will never forget and that those of us in "civilized" nations will not allow it to happen again.  Yet it does, all the time.  Evil manifests itself in atrocities and we turn a blind eye.  We try to find ways to justify non-intervention.  We question sources.  We over-analyze.  We over-think.  We get distracted.  We get busy.  We become numb.  But for today at least, on the 70^th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, I ask you to take a moment and reflect on man’s inhumanity to man and our moral obligation to counter the same.  At least 1.1 million individuals were murdered on the outskirts of a small Polish town.  We owe it to them to remember; we owe it to them to protect.

A Few Odds and Ends: Rule of Law Stories that Matter, but No One is Talking About – Almost every day I cache a story or incident that makes me ponder the significance of the rule of law, but since I am not one of those full time bloggers, it’s tough to write about them all.  Today of course, everyone wants to comment on the Paris massacre and the significance of the Charlie Hebdo attacks, and I do too – but as part of a larger conversation about how important journalism is to restoring, strengthening, and maintaining the rule of law.  I’m going to hold that thought for a series of posts in the very near future.  For now, I want to mention a few stories that I’m following because I think are more important than the attention they’re getting.

1.  The so-called “Silk Road Trial”:  This is a federal criminal case currently underway in New York against a man who is accused of using a web-page called “Mastermind,” to create an anonymous, online drug market.  He’s accused of running a narcotics, hacking and money laundering conspiracy, as well as a “kingpin” charge usually reserved for mafia dons and drug lords.  What’s interesting to me about the case is that it challenges state authority to regulate these emerging electronic black and gray markets, as well as government authority to use the same tools that hackers and criminals use to circumvent the law in the government’s own efforts to detect, deter, and investigate possible criminal activity.  The case is a cause célèbre for online libertarians who want to restrict the power of the state over the internet.  Ironically, it comes at a time when western governments are increasingly trying to strengthen their ability to control illicit networks and curtail terrorist financing that is empowered by the internet.  Read more here: http://www.wired.com/2015/01/why-silk-road-trial-matters/

2.  The ongoing tragedy of Ukrainian military pilot Nadia Savchenko:  If you recall, Savchenko, Ukraine’s first female fighter pilot and a celebrity in her native country, was kidnapped by the Russians in Eastern Ukraine and spirited across the border into a Russian prison.  She has been charged with the murder of two Russian journalists who were allegedly killed during bombing raids in separatist-controlled parts of Ukraine.  Savchenko is a Ukrainian citizen, and was executing lawful orders in the performance of her military mission at the time.  Let’s just call this what it is:  A show trial by the Russians that is a blatant violation of the Law of Armed Conflict; a clear violation of Ukrainian sovereignty and Savchenko’s rights as Ukrainian citizen; and a crime (kidnapping, in case you forgot that part).  You can read the latest here:  http://www.rferl.org/content/ukraine-russia-savchenko-solitary/26784896.html

3.  The conviction of Raif Badawi, a Saudi Arabian blogger:  Against the backdrop of the Charlie Hebdo massacre which was a stated attack on freedom of speech and freedom of the press by radical Islamic extremists, the Saudi government calmly began carrying out a sentence of 1,000 lashes and 10 years in jail against Badawi, the co-founder of a now-banned website called the Liberal Saudi Network.  The website was designed to create political dialogue and debate.  Badawi was convicted of cybercrime and insulting Islam.  His defense attorney didn't come out of the process unscathed either.  He himself was sentenced to 15 years in prison after being found guilty of a range of offenses in an anti-terrorism court that included “inciting public opinion,” “insulting the judiciary,” and “undermining the regime and officials.”  There are so many issues wrapped up in this case that it’s difficult to know where to begin, which is precisely why it should grab and hold our attention.  http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/jan/08/saudi-arabia-blogger-raif-badawi-public-flogging

4.  Finally, let’s not forget the ongoing Ebola crisis in West Africa.  The world’s attention is elsewhere, but thousands have died and more than 500 health care workers have contracted the terrible disease;  the governments of Sierra Leone and Liberia have yet to demonstrate the capacity to manage the situation; and international capacity building efforts predominately consist of sending in western advisers to substitute their capacity for that of the affected nations.   Is this a medical and humanitarian crisis?  Yes.  However, there is a long term health care governance development effort that is needed, and as the immediate catastrophe subsides, it’s important that we take the long view in our plans for future foreign assistance.