To Suffer, to Dream, to Leave... 

And Sometimes to Die Along the Way 

Migrants have become a socially and politically divisive issue in the West. In some countries, including France, people have begun speaking of "migratory submersion," or even the "Great Replacement." We will not enter into a polemic here; this is not about being either pro- or anti-migrant.

The fact remains that hundreds of thousands of human beings flee the sometimes unbearable reality of the country where they were born, in the hope of finding a better life in the West.

How can any one of us be happy if everyone else is sad? 

These countries, once referred to as the "Third World," then as "developing countries," and now encompassed by the newer category of the "Global South," have indeed been sources of emigration to Europe, where immigration was long encouraged when economic needs made it desirable. Today, it is officially being fought, yet the flows have by no means dried up, while the settlement of newcomers is still being imposed even in the most remote rural areas, as is the case in France, for example. Migration continues to provide a source of cheap labor, while these human beings remain dependent on public authorities, which may grant or withdraw their right to reside and work according to shifting criteria that change with each new law. Thus, many migrants, after enduring an arduous journey, find themselves being pursued through harmful procedures designed to obstruct the regularization of their status, as is the case in France, joining the uncountable ranks of the "undocumented." They may even be placed in a "detention center," a euphemism for the word prison, before being deported to their country of origin. At that point, only humanitarian organizations come to their defense. 

We know this, and all too well. For two or three decades now, we have learned that thousands of human beings die along the path of exile, in the Mediterranean, for example; that children disappear and may fall victim to heinous trafficking. We see migrant camps never truly disappear, and we hear calls for deportations, demanded by some and condemned by others. We are alarmed by growing insecurity, which they are sometimes blamed for, rightly or wrongly.

Who, in fact, are these migrants? They are mostly young men, but also women and children—human beings born in poor countries in Africa, South America, or Asia; countries under economic, social, and cultural domination, some of them torn apart by deadly guerrilla conflicts fomented by powerful interests. Their journeys are varied and often perilous. For decades, they have been extensively documented by the media. And it is through the media that the majority of Westerners become aware of their plight.

For those who have come into contact with them in the makeshift camps that spring up and disappear in major cities such as Paris, for those who have grasped the depth of the distress of these human beings who, through no fault of their own, have become homeless, mistreated by the authorities and able to rely only on the support of charitable organizations, indifference is no longer an option.

Most of these human beings have suffered enormously. They fled a completely hopeless future in their countries of origin, took enormous risks, and endured chaotic journeys, driven by the firm hope of finding better living conditions and a future in these supposedly wealthy countries, where the majority of Westerners are, in reality, under the yoke of financial powers and puppet, pseudo-democratic governments.

Once they are settled and admitted, with "papers" for those who obtain them, they form a new proletariat and have no means of subsistence except by taking on the most difficult jobs. And the general indifference of the native population, itself dominated, only continues to grow.

So what, for example, can one say to these young Africans who suffer, dream, and plan to leave, perhaps without fully knowing what they are getting themselves into, determined to face a thousand dangers and pay a smuggler to arrange a potentially deadly crossing of the Mediterranean, only to arrive yet again in Europe, where they will wait for those "magical papers" granting them the right to survive by working hard and slowly but surely exhausting their vital potential, as happens to all those who are dominated—including, of course, the mass of poor and exploited Westerners.

What "advice" should we give them? What should we tell them? Should they stay, suffer, and despair, or, on the contrary, see whether it is truly possible to build a future where they live? In any case, not in a country at war, ravaged by guerrilla conflicts of murky origins, or in a country whose economy has been brought to its knees and which is prey to the plundering of mafias or corrupt elites manipulated by a predatory West. And we will not dwell on the hypocritical "development aid" whose benevolence on the part of the West is highly questionable.

And what about all those human beings who have crossed that threshold, overcome the perils of migration, embraced permanent exile, and are now living among Western populations? What future are we actually offering them? The same ruthless exploitation reserved for the majority of those who are dominated?

And yet, they are here, with their cultures and their differences. And in doing so, they question us and challenge us, simply by their presence, to reflect on our own humanity. However, we are beginning to hear talk of "remigration," that is, mass deportations... Conversely, those whose sensitivity to others remains alive, those who retain their empathy and simply wish to acknowledge these differences and draw social enrichment from them while striving to break the shackles of domination, those who have not erased the word solidarity from their vocabulary, even if they are labeled with some kind of "-ism," may simply be upholding what has been regarded since Antiquity as an inviolable duty, a virtue deliberately trampled upon today: hospitality.