As this year’s celebration of the International Day of Peace comes to an end, we continue our work towards justice – work that is often behind the scenes, in silence, policed, and often unsupported – throughout the rest of the year. Of course, those of us doing this work don’t do it for grand celebrations, as we rarely see reason to celebrate and, when there is, those few and far between celebrations are very often small or individual wins. It’s those individual interactions, stories, experiences, and struggles that continue to show us that peace work which does not seek collective justice is not proactive, inclusive, or feminist. Working towards true justice means following the leadership of those who have been historically excluded while intentionally challenging oppressive systems daily, including their impact on our own perspectives. Man-made borders have long been a literal line in the sand for these systems in determining what is tolerated and accepted when it comes to human rights and dignity. In observation of this year’s theme of “End Racism. Build Peace.,” I challenge us to deconstruct our understandings of peace as we decolonize what we deem as war.
War, in all its forms, is a lucrative business with profits falling along all political party lines. Globally, the push for nationalist agendas may present itself differently, but the narrative of putting one’s country first has long been a successful war cry. This inherent exceptionalism unreasonably negates any justification for violence and fatalities with the false narrative that someone’s way of life needs to be protected and it is “better them than us.” It’s this othering that needs to be explored at its root causes daily in the unjust micro settings as we work towards peace at the macro level. War and violence cannot be addressed without acknowledging and challenging historic and systemic racism, classism, sexism, ableism, and privilege – systems which have served as the foundation for many nations who consider themselves exemplary world leaders. These systems feed the war machine and the consequential militarized responses to humanitarian crises.
The United Nations’ Development Programme (UNDP) has consistently ranked Latin America as the most violent region in the world. The ranking is based on UNDP’s observations on criminal, political and social/domestic violence as several countries in the region struggle with political violence at the hands of both the state and paramilitary factions, including violent repression against human rights defenders, activists, and journalists. Home to 9% of the global population, the region accounts for one-third of the world’s homicides. Research increasingly shows us that violence has strong correlations and causal relationships to declines in mental health, increase in chronic health issues, decreased participation in education, labor, and political opportunities, as well as targeted human rights and deterioration of civil liberties. Yet the region is not considered to be at war or qualified for either peacekeeping operations or resettlement processes. Without such options, irregular migration has continued to increase in the last 15 years, with the vast majority headed north to the United States. These precarious journeys are also a highly profitable business for smugglers, traffickers, and kidnappers preying off of the vulnerabilities and risks of others. Thousands are fleeing violence at home only to face it on their journey in seeking safety in the U.S. Proactive, culturally responsive, and trauma-informed peace work is in great need in these high-tension communities, especially at borders. Peace in times of war must include justice for those disproportionately impacted by the insecurity of violence and conflict.
The U.S./Mexico border is one of the most militarized in the world even though the two countries are not at war with each other. So, then, what is being combatted here if not people, or, more specifically, immigrants? Over the last decade, U.S. federal and state responses to the humanitarian crisis at the border has included deporting immigrants without assessment or due process, deploying the military to guard private land on migratory routes, using military bases and personnel to detain migrant children, recruiting police for making arrests or detaining outside of their jurisdiction, and diverting emergency funds to build walls. Funding for U.S. militarization continues to grow regardless of party leadership at the suffering of public welfare programs including education, healthcare, nutrition, and emergency response while the nationalist rhetoric blames immigrants for “taking” these resources from citizen taxpayers. What we see doing this work is the opposite – immigrants sharing what they have with others, giving back to their communities, working jobs that provide for everyone’s daily needs (childcare, construction, hospitality, agriculture), and, yes, paying taxes. Some of the most marginalized communities along both sides of the border have developed and crowdsourced their own relief and care efforts for the hundreds to thousands displaced at the border or making their way to loved ones throughout the U.S. Individual stories of triumph and despair along with the inherent racism and classism of systemic xenophobia are part of our daily experience in working with those who are fleeing violence in Latin America. Understanding the intersecting factors and systemic oppression across the experience of instability, violence, and peacekeeping is vital in responding in a way that meets individuals where they are while aiming towards justice for the community. For me, the most disheartening part of this work is knowing the violence and fears they flee while seeing them experience even more violence and fear once they arrive in the land they thought would grant them safety.
Migration is a human right and leaving everything you know for an opportunity at safety and security is an act of courage and sign of resiliency. In closing this year’s recognition and hope for peace, I challenge us all to breakdown and unlearn what we deem as war and violence and who is worthy of seeking refuge. It’s not our responsibility to save anyone, but to stand alongside our neighbours: Listen to those who experience violence in all its forms, follow their lead in determining what justice looks like, question borders and nations, and act upon restoration, including reparations and shifting power. War is the most violent form of oppression, but it’s the culmination of the other systems of oppression which we either struggle with or benefit from daily. This is why peace may be our goal, but justice needs to be our objective.
