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Introduction

In the summer and fall of 2021, the world was watching the humanitarian crisis at the Polish–Belarus border, where thousands of refugees from far-flung countries were trying to enter Poland. Brought to Belarus by “travel agents” and transported to the Polish border (Onet News, 2021), the refugees hoped that Poland would be their gateway into Europe. They hoped for safe haven, but found hostility and push-back.

The Polish government did not see the unfolding and rapidly changing situation at the border as a humanitarian emergency. Instead, they saw the asylum seekers as a security threat. Citing danger to Polish citizens living in the borderlands, on September 2, 2021, the President of Poland declared a state of emergency in 15 localities in the Podlasie Province and 68 localities in the Lublin Province. The state of emergency severely curtailed civil liberties in the country. Journalists, representatives of non-governmental organizations, and Good Samaritans who were not living or working in the affected areas were not allowed to travel to the border (Journal of Laws, item 1612).

Long at odds with the European Union, Poland did not request assistance from the EU in resolving the humanitarian crisis. Luckily, the government did not approach Frontex, the European Border and Coast Guard Agency, either. “Frontex has repeatedly failed to take effective action when allegations of human rights violations are brought to its attention,” said Eva Cossé, a researcher at Human Rights Watch, commenting on the 2015 “refugee crisis” (Human Rights Watch, 2015).

Some commentators concluded that the situation at the border was advantageous for the Polish government. Inciting fear of the Other served the Polish government well during the 2015–2016 refugee crisis” (Cywiński et al., 2019), when right-wing politicians orchestrated anti-refugee and anti-Muslim campaigns (Goździak and Márton, 2018; Main, 2020). Currently, the government wants to divert people’s attention from political and economic problems in the country, such as inflation, rising fuel prices, the coronavirus epidemic, and the recurring questions about the condition of democracy in Poland.

Meanwhile, the refugees at the border are suffering from hunger, thirst, and cold. Violating the principle of non-refoulement, the Polish border guards have forced refugees back into Belarus, making it impossible to launch their asylum claims. Activists and volunteers provide humanitarian, legal, and medical assistance to people outside the state-of-emergency zone, while local residents provide help within the zone. As of November 10, 2021, 11 refugees died on the Polish side of the border, though activists assume that the number is much larger.In this essay, I want to take a closer look at the response (or lack thereof) to the humanitarian emergency at the border through a Christian lens. Members of the predominantly Roman Catholic Polish government claim that they promote Christian values in all of their actions. My essay is rooted in both my volunteer efforts at the border and my research about the people helping refugees in Cieszyn, a small border town in southern Poland on the east bank of the Olza river (Durajska, 2020). I am an engaged anthropologist (Kirsch, 2018) active in a local initiative called “Granica dla granicy” [Border for Border]. Since 2016, I have taken part in activities supporting refugees, including fact-finding missions, protests, and information campaigns. These activities have given me unprecedented access to the developments at the border. I apply anthropological, ethical, and theological perspectives in both my actions of solidarity with refugees and in my empirical research, including “netnography,” online research originating in ethnography and used to understand social interactions in contemporary digital communications contexts (Jemielniak, 2013; Kozinets, 2010).

Shreds of Information

It is difficult to analyze the current situation at the border. The crisis is on-going. Each day, the media present new information about the operations of the army and the border guards. The weather is changing rapidly; the crisis started at the end of the summer, while winter is now approaching and death from hypothermia is becoming a serious threat to the refugees. I have heard stories of people trapped at the border. It is difficult to estimate the number of people camping in the forests. The European Union has accused President Alexander Lukashenko of orchestrating the influx of migrants to pressure the EU to back down over sanctions placed on his government. Poland and Lithuania claim that at least one state-owned Belarusian travel company made it easy for refugees to visit, while a state carrier more than doubled flights on a route that is popular with asylum seekers. Lukashenko denies facilitating the crisis, although he has said he would no longer hold back refugees due to the penalties imposed by the EU after a disputed presidential election last year and the subsequent crackdown on protesters.

Observers and solidarians at the border receive an incessant flow of news and an endless stream of comments. While the information is plentiful, we all live in filter bubbles (Pariser, 2011): any given person receives only selected information. This happens not only because we choose the media we want to follow and the company of like-minded people, but also because that is how the online media operate. The algorithms of search engines such as Google and social media sites such as Facebook filter available information to suit the users’ views and interests. Filter bubbles and resulting echo chambers polarize society and impede dialogue.

Members of communities located within the state-of-emergency zone have limited access to unbiased national information. Journalists and representatives of human rights non-governmental organizations are barred from the zone. The stories shared on social media are created by activists and people living in the zone. These are short, emotional, and very personal reports—slices of the daily reality of the people who have been affected by the humanitarian crisis.

On her Facebook page, Eliza Kowalczyk, who lives in the state-of-emergency zone, wrote a post entitled “Without a Trace” that recounts one of her encounters with a refugee family begging to not be returned to Belarus. Here are excerpts from her post:

I dreamt that I was holding a refugee child in my arms.

I hadn’t finished my breakfast yet when, in front of my window, with a view onto the church, I noticed a commotion in the parking lot. The border guards! I grabbed my backpack, put some food in it and ran. Three people were sitting at the curb, surrounded by border guards. I went over (messaging my friends to let them know that help is needed) and asked the refugees if I could offer them food and water. One of the guards told me to wait, but a woman sprang up and ran towards me, crying, hugging me, and begging “No Belarus.”

And then, horror! One of the men opened a travel bag and there was an infant inside. I started crying. I knelt beside them and opened my backpack with food. … I stroked the little child, turned my head and saw four children, a man, and a pregnant woman. They showed me a yellow liquid they were given by Belarusians and asked for milk. They wanted to exchange euros to buy something at the local store. I ran to get the milk at the store, on credit, because I had no money on me. … The refugees wanted international protection. One of the guards told them that they have no right to request it.

A little later, down the street, I see four boys in the back of a truck. They are eating chocolate and say “No Belarus.” The women weep; the mother takes the infant out of the travel bag to board a bus the refugees are being forced onto. I take the child in my arms, he cries, I pat him and rock him just as I did my own kids when they were little. My nightmare has come true.

One of the border guards says: “They could have just stayed at home!” The guards return to the border post. In just a few minutes, the refugee family will disappear without a trace.

The general public will never know their story. The absence of independent journalists at the border leads to false narratives manufactured by politicians and state-run television. These narratives dehumanize asylum seekers, presenting them as “illegal immigrants” akin to the ruthless protagonists of the Swedish Netflix series, Snabba Cash. Government officials also promote a false image of the refugees at the border. The Minister of the Interior accused them of having connections with terrorist organizations and presented them as criminals, pedophiles, and zoophiles (Ministry of the Interior and Administration, 2021).

The Crisis at the Border as a Response to the Other

Human rights and NGO activists have urged Polish authorities to allow refugees access to humanitarian, medical, and legal assistance; to permit independent media and agencies that serve refugees to enter the state-of-emergency zone; and to allow refugees to launch their asylum claims instead of transporting them back to Belarus. Advocates have called for upholding the rights of asylum-seekers and complying with international law while ensuring the safety of local residents and protecting the security of Polish borders. Poland is a signatory of both the 1951 Refugee Convention and the 1967 Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees. Poland ratified both in 1991 and should live up to the promises made.

Since the very beginning of the humanitarian crisis at the border, the public debate spearheaded by civil society has invoked Christian values. One of the slogans used in the protests is “Jesus was also a refugee.” As part of a social campaign, Fundacja Ocalenie [Rescue Foundation] created a video showing people walking through a forest at night. Somebody blocks their path and it turns out they are Mary and Joseph. The video ends with a quote from the Gospel of Matthew (25:35): “I was a stranger and you invited me in” (Agencja K2, 2021).

Local communities also get involved in providing assistance to refugees. In the words of the mayor of Michałowo, Marek Nazarko, the commune is a great “symbol of humanity and humanitarianism,” not a contemporary Jewabne, where Poles slaughtered their Jewish neighbors during World War II (Nazarko, 2021). Michałowo resembles Lampedusa, the southernmost Italian island in the Mediterranean Sea, where local residents chose to help refugees from Africa trying to reach Europe. One of the island residents remarked that.

these people come from Africa to tell us how they perceive us, who we are for them. And also, for us to find out whether we have the grace to act, whether we can rise up to the challenge of that grace. … In general, we think of ourselves as people who have low salaries, who are unappreciated, unrecognized, overworked, subject to violence. In order to face the arriving refugees, we must answer the question John the Baptist posed to Jesus: Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else? … I tell believers that waiting for the right opportunity to tell the truth and show courage means stagnation. We need to act (Mikołajewski, 2015, pp. 99–100).

As evidenced by the quotes from the mayor of Michałowo and the parson from Lampedusa, the encounter with the Other is a confrontation of two images: our self-image and others’ image of us. “The Other is a mirror in which I look at myself or in which I am looked at; it is a mirror which exposes and unmasks me, which is something we would rather avoid” (Kapuściński, 2004).

Pope Francis chose Lampedusa for his first pilgrimage. In his homily, the Pope spoke of the ethical dilemma related to the arrival of the Others, the refuges:

“Adam, where are you?” “Where is your brother?” These are the two questions which God asks at the dawn of human history, and which he also asks us. But I would like to ask different questions: Has any one of us wept because of this situation and others like it? Has any one of us grieved for the death of these brothers and sisters? Has any one of us wept for these persons who were on the boat? For the young mothers carrying their babies? For these men who were looking for a means of supporting their families? We are a society which has forgotten how to weep, how to experience compassion – “suffering with” others: the globalization of indifference has taken from us the ability to weep! … Let us ask … the Lord for the grace to weep over our indifference, to weep over the cruelty of our world, of our own hearts, and of all those who in anonymity make social and economic decisions which open the door to tragic situations like this (Pope Francis, 2013).

Being open to the Other is not only a Christian duty, but also a value in every human life. In his Encyclical “Fratelli Tutti,” Pope Francis defined the encounter with the Other as spiritual and cultural enrichment, as an exchange of gifts:

The arrival of those who are different, coming from other ways of life and cultures, can be a gift, for the stories of migrants are always stories of an encounter between individuals and between cultures. For the communities and societies to which they come, migrants bring an opportunity for enrichment and the integral human development of all. … I especially urge young people not to play into the hands of those who would set them against other young people, newly arrived in their countries, and who would encourage them to view the latter as a threat, and not possessed of the same inalienable dignity (Pope Francis, 2020, pp. 115–116).

Despite the mostly hostile political climate in Poland, where Catholics constitute the majority of the population, some Catholic clergy voiced their support for refugees (Goździak et al., 2020). On August 25, 2020, Polish bishops issued a statement directed at the national and local governments, in which Archbishop Wojciech Polak, the Primate of Poland, called for respect and access to humanitarian and medical assistance at the border (Polak, 2021). Caritas Poland also took part in providing assistance at the border (Caritas, 2021).

Ordinary people became engaged as well. The nationwide initiative called “Rodziny bez granic” [Families without Borders] organized collections, protests, and meals for refugees. One of the initiatives included contacting parish priests to pray for refugees, but also to obtain permission to host information campaigns in the vicarages.

The response to the situation at the border ought to have an ecumenical character: responding to the call of the Other is at the core of Christian ethics. It is also part of other religions. Unfortunately, much of the Polish population was hostile towards the refugees. This is very disappointing for those who provide help to refugees. A wife of an Adventist Bishop wrote on her Facebook page:

Today, I will light a candle on the grave of Polish hospitality and I will place chrysanthemums on the tomb of Christian values. Let this be our pang of guilt, a denial of pro-life postulates. Do we mean that we only care about life in the woman’s womb, but not life that is born, especially if it is not Christian life? Let our religious sensitivity be offended; it is extremely selective and shamefully subjective! … Today my religious feelings are deeply offended, because in the Christian religion LOVE IS THE GREATEST EMOTION (Wasilewska-Kamińska, 2021).

Violence Towards Activists

A large part of the Polish society is hostile towards refugees. Many transfer this hostility onto fellow compatriots who provide assistance at the border, collect food and clothing, and organize protests. The problem here is not lack of openness to dialogue, but downright attacks. In my work, I have noticed the hatred and verbal abuse: hostile messages, vulgar comments, and insults during protests. I have also been a victim of such behavior. I have met many people involved in helping refugees and most of them have experienced hate or violence. However, I have not yet met a person who has stopped their activist work due to such attacks. Violence is always a cognitive challenge. There have been attempts to explain the mechanisms of violence in philosophy, theology, biology, and social psychology. However, such actions seem impossible to understand at the emotional or spiritual level. They leave one with a sense of emptiness and harm. It is often impossible to answer questions about the source of violence:

These are simply questions to which we have no answers. And perhaps that is the essence and the greatness of the humanities that it acknowledges the existence of questions which we will never answer. (Benedyktowicz & Czaja, 2003)

Barbara Skarga (2004) writes about two preconditions that lead to violence. The first is the need to prove that one is more powerful. The second is the fear of the Other, the resistance to otherness. The fear of otherness results from a sense of threat emanating from the encounter with the Other, a sense of threat to one’s own world-view, system of values, and lifestyle. The encounter with the Other requires openness and acceptance of the fact that our perspective is only one among many. It requires us to make an effort, confront our own convictions, and most of all, step out of our comfort zone, though the consequences cannot be predicted. We never know where the encounter with the Other will lead us.

The Other attacks my eyes so that they can see the world through the Other’s eyes; the Other attacks my ears so that they can hear what the Other hears; the Other undermines the sovereignty of the point of view which is my point of view. The Other does not promise anything in return; the Other demands becoming the Other’s food (Tischner, 2017, p. 8).

“Empathizers” and “Utopian Humanitarianism”

Apart from open hostility toward Polish solidarians, a patronizing narrative has also emerged that depicts them as idealists who are out of touch with reality. What is interesting and at the same time disturbing is that words such as empathy or humanitarianism gain negative meanings in this narrative. It is a language full of fear, but shrouded in rationalization and a sense of superiority. Two Facebook posts illustrate this narrative:

Are you proposing to open the borders and forget about the safety of Poles who live near the border? They will be forced to face various difficult humanitarian and moral situations. Can you just ignore the safety of Polish citizens? Can you ignore the law? Can you put a politically correct, utopian humanitarianism above the rules of law and common sense?

… maybe you will finally answer me, because none of the leftists and empathizers know how to respond. HOW MANY are we going to let in? If they drop off a million people at the border, should we take them all in, because they are hungry and cold? The countries from which they legally travel to Belarus have populations several times larger than Poland. So, I ask again – how many are we going to let in?

The pro-refugee activists are called “empathizers,” which in this context suggests that empathy is a dangerous feeling that leads people to be irrational or “useful idiots.” Empathy is perceived not only as an ability to sympathize with others, but also as a leftist ideology. Whereas empathy is presented as dangerous, one’s own fear is rationalized. One’s own feelings are justified and harmless, while the feelings of the opposite side are perceived as a threat. The concept of “common sense” is also used to rationalize one’s fears.

Dehumanizing Refugees

Often, it is only the imagined Other, because the majority of Polish people have never met a refugee; they only know the image presented in the media. On the Internet, refugees are referred to as biomass, human shields, or cattle. This type of language dehumanizes them and deprives them of dignity. Dehumanization is a process in which victims are not perceived as humans, a process which weakens the restraint of aggressive actions and makes further aggression easier and more probable (Aronson, 2003).

Why do so many people in a predominantly Catholic country dehumanize the Other? Isn’t it against Christian teaching? What does religion mean for contemporary Poles? “Catholicism in Poland has become a political idea, while Christianity means loyalty to beautiful, utopian, but—God willing—strong values” (Barbaro et al., 2021, p. 14). In Poland, Christianity is perceived in terms of national identity, but it is also a lifestyle which ensures safety, relieves worries, and alleviates hardships without requiring radical actions or difficult decisions. In the words of Jan Kajfosz,

Christianity without the New Testament ethics would be like coffee without caffeine, cream without fat, or beer without alcohol. Just like these products can be consumed without limits and without any danger, Christianity without its risky, though constitutive element, would allow its believers to bask limitlessly in the experiences of the sacrum … without the danger of existential dilemmas, without carrying others’ burdens …, without leaving one’s comfort zone. (Kajfosz, 2020, p. 1086)

The figurines in the nativity scenes seem to be mere decorations with no meaning or values. Looking at a nativity scene, we do not reflect on the fact that the story of Jesus’ birth is also a story about exclusion (no place at the inn), violence (the massacre of the innocents), and escape (to Egypt).

Simply Be Human

Perhaps instead of asking about the source of evil, we should be asking about the sources of goodness, kindness, and openness to the Other? When I conducted my research in the border town of Cieszyn, many of the people helping refugees (regardless of the color of their skin or their place of origin) told me that volunteering to assist refugees was part of their Christian identity and their humanity:

If you were to finish the sentence, “I am helping foreigners because…,” what would you say?

Vaclav (names are changed): We were taught not be deaf to others in need. Because of our work, because of Christian values.

Sylvie: I agree. It is a mission, a life attitude. If I have the opportunity to help, I help. (Durajska, 2020, p. 30)

Pavel: I don’t think you must be a Christian or a believer. You just have to be human. We are here in Central Europe and we have no direct contact with the conflict; we are kind of protected. But what about such countries as Greece, with large numbers of refugees? And then you find out that young families with many children live on some islands – they have no homes, they stay in tents, without education, in very poor conditions. If it was someone from your own family, you would try to find a way to help, but because they are somewhere far away, we are adopting a distanced approach. Are we doing what is right? (Durajska, 2020, p. 35).