ON MONDAY, DUBLIN was rioting against migrants and refugees, again. While rioters were vandalising the streets of our capital city, social media platforms were bursting with blame game statements.
It seems that alongside a pattern of anti-migrant violence, Ireland is also developing a habit of marginalising the issue.
People distanced themselves from those perpetrating acts of violence, saying, ‘not in our name’. Others blamed foreign social media influence or the housing crisis.
Politicians were calling for those responsible to be brought to justice. Those who would stoke division online blamed the presence of migrants for rioters’ hate. A handful of people were arrested and released on bail and no one, absolutely no one is willing to accept accountability.
Of course, the perpetrators of those acts of social sabotage are responsible for the violence and damage to property. However, the accountability is much broader. Accountability rests with anyone who contributed to creating the environment that brewed this socio-economic mixture bubbling with hate.
Following the November Dublin riots, I was invited to join a panel on a radio programme to talk about the impact the riots had on migrant communities. What I didn’t get to talk about was the frequent state of alert that migrants have to live with. Being a migrant means expecting to be challenged for who we are while going about our daily lives. I didn’t get to discuss the fear of speaking our mother tongues in public. I didn’t talk much about the impact organised violence has on migrant communities because the panel was more interested in arguing over words.
The journalists and politicians sitting around the table couldn’t agree if the word ‘thug’ was appropriate to call the rioting people. I didn’t care much for that conversation. What I cared to talk about was accountability. A word that was missing from the vocabulary in November and is still missing from a public discourse now.
Dublin may have removed all the physical marks of the November riots from the city’s map, but emotional barriers still exist and force migrants to reorganise their lives. In the spring, I ran a series of creative workshops for asylum seekers. The workshop venue was within walking distance from their accommodation centre. No one however felt it would have been safe for a group of Black and brown men and women to walk the streets of Dublin in broad daylight. The organisers had to rent a bus to ensure the safety of people wishing to learn how to write poetry.
In the summer, I ran a peer support network for election candidates of a migrant background. Some candidates confessed that the November expression of anti-migrant hate affected their sense of safety. They limited canvassing and posters out of fear that the anti-migrant violence may catch up with them on their election campaign trail.
Not much was done since the November riots to avoid it happening again. The responses to this ongoing crisis of values and trust marked by violent outbursts are repeatedly the same. The marginalisation of the issue by focusing on the responsibility of those directly involved and denying accountability to those with decision-making powers.
It’s easy to marginalise anti-migrant violence to the so-called ‘small sections of our society’. By marginalising anti-migrant violence, we marginalise the solution.
We also marginalise the experiences of migrants and refugees, who live with the threat of harassment and violence every day. The ‘small section of society’ narrative doesn’t give any reassurance to migrant and refugee communities. We are scared.
After the November radio interview, I returned home feeling guilty for not challenging that pointless discussion. I wished I turned to my co-panellists and asked them to accept accountability. I wish I asked the politicians at the table to reflect on how the policies they created disenfranchised people to the point where disappearing hope for the future was replaced by fear.
I wish I asked the journalists to reflect on how the choice of migration stories they published contributed to negative stereotypes and stigmatisation, resulting in anger.
I believe there is more love in Ireland than hate. Ireland has strong values of inclusion upon which we can build. However, to move forward, we need to shift from focusing on responsibility to accountability.
Teresa Buczkowska is a Polish-Irish migrant rights campaigner. She spent 10 years working at the Immigrant Council of Ireland.
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