Europe is complicated right now. Thousands walk through its borders seeking asylum. Governments scramble for cohesion.
But something simple has emerged — the compassionate impulse of European people.
Borders are being built and defended all around the globe. These demarcations have one law inside the line, and another outside.
When borders are pierced, like has happened this summer in Europe, communities on either side have a chance to view each other without the intermediaries of authorities, media, states, concrete and barbed wire. A veil drops. People suddenly see what asylum seekers look like.
This summer, many Europeans realised that asylum seekers look just like them. A spontaneous outpouring of compassion followed.
Asylum seekers set up camps outside railway stations, arrived on tourist islands, sailed into lethal seas and walked across borders in their thousands. Equally, thousands marched in support of good refugee policy, turned up to welcome asylum seekers, opened their homes. A tsunami of goods were donated.
The police in Hungary tweeted a request for donations. The response overwhelmed them. They begged people to stop donating. Facebook groups popped up: someone offered a truck, someone else took time off work to drive it to the jungle, Lesbos island or Serbia.
Interpreters and lawyers are being dispatched to the Hungarian border. New coalitions of volunteer doctors, teachers, carpenters and transport workers emerged, ready to pull up their sleeves. Following the Pope's call, churches across the continent had emergency meetings on how to house families.
When refugees walked into Europe, away from distant distress sites, their presence made the global issue visceral for Europeans. Asylum seekers became proximate and real by appearing within familiar territory and cohabiting space.
Hannah Arendt, reflecting on Jewish refugees during World War II, said, 'We cannot choose who we cohabit the earth with.' Europe's relatively recent memory of refugee movement within its borders, when people fled Nazis, makes a difference. The fear of repeating Nazi practises has been very present in media coverage here, and stopped many practises that might otherwise have occurred.
Australia doesn't have asylum seekers walking en masse through ordinary streets. Our border is one of established hatred. Asylum seekers are corralled into concentration camps offshore where suicide, riots, abuse, and human rights and international law violations occur under government mandated secrecy.
'Stop the boats' policy denies ordinary Australians their compassionate impulse. It pushes asylum seekers out of sight and makes it impossible to pierce the veil. It creates a history that our children will face