Sarah Wayne Callies: Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness

 

ATLANTA, Georgia - Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Most days I take these things for granted. When I consider them, it’s in reference to the refugees I work with and it’s life and liberty that I think about—the drama of fleeing one’s home for fear of torture, the injustice of being silenced for one’s political beliefs or ethnic affiliation. These are the flashy stories that make their way into magazines: the stuff they make movies about. They also make refugees seem really different from the rest of us. 

 

But this week I’ve been reading essays written by people living in the refugee camps on the Thailand/Burma border, and even though some of them have been there for 20 years, it’s the pursuit of happiness that everyone seems to be writing about. The writers articulate, over and over, the desire to get an education and a job: “If I resettle in the U.S.A., I need to look for a part-time job…and I will save any extra money for my education.… I will go to a teachers college and I will learn about the psychology of children. When I get a degree I will apply for a preschool or primary school.” Another refugee writes, “In the U.S.A., I will attend a technical college and finish my degree…. At the same time, I will work in a factory or a company as a temp. After I have gotten a certificate, I am going to work at a full-time job for three years to save money. After that I’m thinking about attending a business university until I get an MBA. If I get an MBA, I’ll apply to a company as a manager. If they do not take me, then I will do my own business.” I’ve been struck time and again by how driven the writers are by the simple desire for schooling and work: the pursuit of happiness. 

 

These refugee writers sound like the American middle class that politicians are constantly sounding off about, the people I see at my local swimming pool every week—the fathers who take their kids in the middle of the day because they’re out of work, the mothers who bring a bag lunch because they can’t afford a treat of burgers and fries at the concession stand. Times are hard in the United States right now, as Clint Eastwood so eloquently pointed out during the Super Bowl. A lot of people are looking for jobs, going back to school, desperate for the opportunity to make a decent wage doing meaningful work. Is it possible that despite all of the differences between refugees and the rest of us, we’re all after the same things? 

 

And if we are after the same things, is it asking too much to help others when we can hardly help ourselves?  When we have so little—so little money, so little time, so little energy at the end of the day—why expend any of it on the desperately poor thousands of miles away? Why offer them refuge in our country when jobs for Americans are already scarce? 

 

These are scary questions. If we’re not careful, our answers will be selfish and self-serving: that by extending ourselves to others we will have less for our own. But in my opinion, I think these questions are worth asking in scary times; and perhaps we all must find our own answers according to the dictates of our own consciences.  

 

For what it’s worth, here are my answers: First, we give because we have received. Almost all Americans have ancestors who arrived on U.S. shores from somewhere else. Most of our ancestors were seeking a better life, plain and simple: a chance for an education, a chance to work and raise a family in peace. 

 

My own grandfather came to the U.S. when he was a boy, fleeing persecution in Eastern Europe. I owe a great debt to this country that took him in and gave all of his descendents the opportunity to lead the lives we now enjoy. The best way I can think to repay this debt is to help others in a similar predicament. 

 

My second answer to these questions—the why should we help questions—is that America offers asylum to refugees because that’s what a great nation does. I understand that patriotism is not fashionable in all circles. But providing solace to the persecuted strengthens both givers and receivers. Isn’t searching our souls for what Abraham Lincoln called “the better angels of our natures” a part of what defines us as Americans? It’s who we have always been, and it’s who I hope to be as a person and as a citizen. The more difficult the times, the more disciplined our efforts must be to reach beyond the shadows of our own fears and extend ourselves to those less fortunate. 

 

The refugees’ essays tell me that the people in the camps want what the people at the pool want: an education, a job, a family. They want the chance to strengthen our country through participation in our economy, our democracy, and our largesse. Perhaps the best way forward is to help each other get to where we are going…together.