Since the first Australian churches offered sanctuary to the 267 refugees facing deportation to Nauru last week, a steady stream of voices have joined the call for compassion. Among them now are over 44 churches, five cathedrals, 21 mosques, and the premiers of five states.
The initiative seems to have sparked a nation-wide awakening. On Monday night, for a second time, thousands of people rallied around the country under the banner of #LetThemStay — the hashtag launching a heartfelt campaign from our screens to the streets.
Seas of protesters stood in public spaces holding banners, placards and candles, pleading for a show of humanity.
On the same night, human rights abuses in offshore processing centres continued, reiterating the necessity of the campaign. Australian friends of asylum seekers on Nauru reported that detainees had been physically assaulted by guards for taking extra fruit to eat from the centre.
Such allegations that do not exist in isolation. A senate inquiry into the detention centre on Nauru last year found that there had been 30 official reports of child abuse by staff, 24 of those involving physical contact, and an additional case of excessive force by the end of 2015.
Yet in light of the protests, the cry 'the tide is turning' can be heard from refugee advocates and activists across the nation. And though the currency of compassion we have seen blossoming in recent weeks seems a new development, the seeds have been sown for quite some time.
From the First Home Project in Perth that houses resettled refugees, to the Asylum Seeker Resource Centre that serves hundreds daily, to persistent calls from Gosford Anglican Church to hold onto common decency in the wake of Islamophobic unrest, many have been at work suturing the wounds left on vulnerable people by an emotionally stunted nation-state that has closed its border and its heart.
The levels of psychological damage caused by mandatory detention have been well-documented in adults and children alike. Even the chief medical officer of the Australian Border Force has spoken out on this, and rightly so. The foundations of medical ethics lay in beneficence, a notion that must be revived and universalised to overcome the neglect asylum seekers are forced to endure.
Several of the refugees facing a possible return to Nauru suffer from severe physical ailments, including cancer and terminal illness. For any other patient, the immorality of causing them further harm would be seen as unequivocal; here, our dehumanisation of asylum seekers serves as a twisted justification.
Conservative discourse around granting asylum is framed in the language of loss — refugees are spoken of as a threat to everything from job security to 'our way of life'. Our deterrence policies are founded on a brittle idea of national security as a dire necessity — an attempt to show strength in a time of fear.
We conflate perpetrators of violence overseas with its victims who come to seek asylum, merging them into the same racialised threat. The clearest example of this could be the 2013 name change of the Department of Immigration and Citizenship to the Department of Immigration and Border Protection.
In our quest for national security, however, we have only served to increase our fragility.
Compassion is one avenue to change. As a political language, compassion is itself a reclamation of power. Extending safety, resources, or even a mere welcome to people in need proves that we have something to give. Strength is embodied by a capacity to aid and assist, rather than in cruelty.
The show of concern by Victorian premier Daniel Andrews rippled through the populace as a reminder that for too long, politics has ignored the affective. Empathy, care and compassion are traits that facilitate human connection, appealing to us on a level of emotion that runs deeper than mere rhetoric. A nation that had abandoned its moral compass is being guided back to it, slowly and instinctively.
From pastors to politicians, doctors and lawyers to comedians, #LetThemStay has united people in a cohesive call for change. As two protesters unfurl a banner from the Yarra Bridge today, a week on from the beginning of the campaign, it's evident that a resurgence of compassion is here to stay.
The collective humanity of the Australian nation hinges now, more than ever, on the undoing of apathy and indifference to ensure a pursuit of justice. While the momentum continues to build, it's crucial that our hearts do not harden once the dust has settled.
Somayra Ismailjee is the recipient of Eureka Street's inaugural Margaret Dooley Young Writers Fellowship.
Somayra is a 17-year-old writer from Perth, of Indian and Burmese heritage. She has an interest in current affairs, ethics and social justice, particularly the intersections of racism, Islamophobia, misogyny and classism. Her work has appeared in New Matilda and Right Now Inc among other publications.
Follow her on Twitter @somayra_
Main image: Andrew Hill, Flickr CC