What
a time we are all living through. Like so many people, I have been
watching the awful events happening in the Middle East over the last
year and trying to determine how to react. I have been seeing the brazen
antisemitic incidents in my own city and feeling a mix of anger, fear,
and astonishment that we are at this place in our country. Saying
nothing at this point feels like I am betraying my own conscience. But
what do you say? How does one express the complicated and very real
feelings in this scary world of social media, where it seems any
sentiment opens you to online vitriol from one side or another? The
issues we are dealing with are so nuanced and complicated that short
statements cannot in any way express fully what I want to say from my
heart. As a public advocate for refugees, I’ve been struggling to
reconcile my silence with that work. Please bear with me as I explain.
And to be clear, what I say here is my personal view, not that of any
organization–it’s just how I feel.
I
was given the opportunity in 2016 to work with UNHCR, the UN Refugee
Agency, a global organization dedicated to saving lives, protecting
rights, and building a better future for people forced to flee their
homes because of conflict and persecution. The agency was created to
help the millions who fled the Second World War and leads international
action to protect refugees, forcibly displaced communities, and
stateless people, ensuring that everyone has the right to seek asylum
and find safe refuge from violence, persecution, or war at home.
With
UNHCR I have visited refugees and those impacted by war and violence in
Lebanon, Guatemala, Jordan, Poland, and Ukraine. I visited Lebanon just
before the eighth anniversary of the Syrian conflict and met refugee
families struggling to survive, among the millions living on the razor’s
edge. I went to Kyiv after the full-scale Russian invasion and talked
to people whose lives have been upended by this senseless war. I’ve
advocated for refugees at the UN and in front of the Senate Foreign
Relations Committee, imploring the U.S. government not to look away from
this global humanitarian crisis. I say this not to toot my own horn,
but to explain that for me, if I am to speak out about these issues in
these places, I can’t ignore the crisis that is front and center in the
world right now.
I
am Jewish. I’m also half Irish. My father’s mother came to the United
States as a refugee from Poland. His father’s grandfather came from
Ukraine, where over 100,000 Jewish people lost their lives in the ethnic
pogroms that preceded the great horror of the Holocaust by just two
decades. My mother’s grandparents came from Ireland seeking a better
life. They arrived in New York with a surplus of hope and not much else.
My
dad served in the U.S. Army at the end of World War II. He met my mom
and they got married–he was Jewish, she was Catholic. At the time that
was an issue. They dealt with judgment from both sides of their families
and the outside world. They turned that tension into humor and based
their stand-up comedy act on their ethnic differences, which brought
them together – and brought them success.
My
mom converted to Judaism when they married. Ours was not a religious
household, but we learned the traditions of inclusion and tolerance.
After my Bar Mitzvah, I didn’t really go back to synagogue too often.
But I always felt connected to my heritage, both Irish and Jewish, and
valued the bonds I saw formed by both sides of my family. Eventually
they came together through my parents’ love for each other. It was a
palpable and beautiful thing I experienced as a child. As a kid growing
up surrounded by that love, in New York City in the ‘70s, I never really
experienced antisemitism. Where we find ourselves now is a place I
never thought I would be.
Like so many Jews I grieve for those who suffered in the barbaric Hamas attack on October 7 and for those who have suffered as a result of those atrocities. My heart aches for the families who lost loved ones to this heinous act of terrorism and for those anxiously waiting these long months
for the return of the hostages still in captivity. It’s a nightmare. I
also grieve for the innocent people in Gaza who have lost their lives in
this conflict and those suffering through that awful reality now.
I
detest war, but what Hamas did was unconscionable and reprehensible.
The hostages have to be freed. Terrorism must be named and fought by all
people of conscience on the planet. There is no excuse for it under any
circumstances.
I
stand with the Israeli people and their right to live in peace and
safety. At the same time, I don’t agree with all of the Israeli
government’s choices on how they are conducting the war. I want the
violence to end, and the innocent Palestinian people affected by the humanitarian crisis that has resulted to receive the lifesaving aid they need. And I know that many in Israel share this sentiment.
I
believe, as many people in Israel and around the world do, in the need
for a two-state solution, one that ensures that the Israeli people can
live in peace and safety alongside a homeland for the Palestinian people
that provides them the same benefits.
I
also see a troubling conflation in criticism of the actions of the
Israeli government with denunciations of all Israelis and Jewish people.
And as a result, we are seeing an undeniable rise in global
antisemitism. I am seeing it myself, on the streets of the city I grew
up in. It isn’t right and must be denounced.
Antisemitism
must be condemned whenever it happens and wherever it exists. As should
Islamophobia and bigotry of all kinds. There is a frightening amnesia
for history in the air. We must remind ourselves that we can only
manifest a more hopeful, just, and peaceful future by learning from the
past.
Obviously
I am no politician or diplomat. I have no solutions for these world
conflicts and claim to offer none. I think I, like so many people, am
struggling with how to process this all. But as an advocate for
displaced people, I do believe this war must end. As I write this, there
are about 120 million people all over the world who have been displaced
by conflicts. In the Middle East, in Ukraine, Sudan, and many other
countries. They all deserve to live in safety and peace. The human
suffering must end. We must demand this of our leaders. Peace is the
only path.
Actor Ben Stiller has been supporting UNHCR since early 2016. He has
travelled with us to meet refugees in
Germany,
Jordan,
Guatemala, and most recently to learn about UNHCR’s work in Lebanon, where he called
for urgent attention and funds to support Syrian refugees ahead of the
eighth anniversary of the start of the Syria conflict.
Ben Stiller was appointed as a Goodwill Ambassador in July 2018.
In Jordan
Ben spent time with Syrian refugees
living in camps and urban settings. He met families benefiting from UNHCR’s
innovative cash assistance program and refugees going through the
resettlement process. Ben was particularly moved by the resilience of the
people he encountered, the incredible spirit and energy of the children, and
the deep longing to return home of many of the refugees with whom he spoke.
He wrote about his experiences for TIME, and also
posted videos of the refugees he met
– along with some memorable moments -
on his social feeds
following the trip.
Ben has played a key role in UNHCR projects, including our #WithRefugees
campaign. To mark World Refugee Day 2018
he appeared in a special edition Buzzfeed Tasty film, joined by writer and former Iraqi refugee Ahmed Badr, to make chicken
shawarma, a traditional dish from Ahmed’s homeland. Ben has also featured in
an advocacy film alongside fellow high profile supporters, refugees and
UNHCR field staff, encouraging the public to sign a petition expressing
solidarity with millions of people across the world driven from their homes
by conflict and persecution.
Ben spoke in the UN General Assembly Hall at the handing in of the
#WithRefugees campaign petition
to the UN Secretary General ahead of the historic UN Summit on Refugees
& Migrants in September 2016.
In January 2019 Ben supported the launch of
1 Billion Miles to Safety, a new campaign calling on people all over the world to cover the distance
travelled by refugees each year.
***
Article by Ben Stiller
Mar 15, 2019
Actor Ben Stiller: "I met Syrian refugees living on a knife's edge, and
there are millions more".
Five minutes after I was introduced to Yazan, I already thought he might be
the coolest eight-year-old I have ever met. He has great hair. It’s black and
shiny, with some sort of purple mousse he’s put in especially for the
occasion. He’s incredibly friendly and has a smile that makes it impossible
not to smile back.
We are in the Bekaa Valley in eastern Lebanon where Yazan lives with his twin
sister Razan, who is as equally personable and cute; his brother, Salah; and
baby sister, Rajaa. We’re in their home, a two-room concrete shelter we found
at the end of a muddy alleyway off the main road to Syria, which is only about
an hour from here.
His parents fled Syria in the middle of the night when the shooting and
killing became too intense outside their home in Damascus. They bribed a
border guard and crossed into Lebanon. They thought they would return home in
three days. It’s been eight years.
UNHCR Goodwill Ambassador Ben Stiller visiting an informal
settlement in the Bekaa Valley, Lebanon, standing with a Syrian
refugee. UNHCR/Michael Muller
Millions displaced, struggling to survive
Their story is not a unique one. I went to Lebanon last week with the UN
Refugee Agency, to meet refugees who have fled the Syrian conflict which has
gone on since Yazan was four months old. The conflict is complicated and while
a small number of people are starting to return home, the vast majority feel
it is not yet safe to do so. In Lebanon alone there are believed to be more
than a million displaced Syrians. In a country of only four million locals,
the issue is overwhelming. On a basic subsistence level, the refugees are
living on a knife’s edge.
Read more commentary:
As a Syrian refugee in America, I watched my country collapse. But there is
a path to hope.
I search for my Honduran students in the migrant caravan, scared of the
welcome we offer.
Trump is right to withdraw US troops from Syria. We've done our job by
defeating ISIS.
For Yazan’s father, Raed, who worked as a taxi driver back home, providing for
his family in Lebanon is incredibly hard. As a refugee he’s limited as to what
he can do for work. So, in addition to being deep in debt, they have been
constantly on the move.
The family’s three-day trip that has stretched to almost a decade, has been
harrowing. Binnana, Yazan’s 23-year-old mother, told me that there was a time
they lived in a stable when the twins were infants. They lived in a stall with
rats and other animals, where everything was dirty. It’s where she gave birth
to Salah. While the biblical imagery is hard to avoid, there is nothing divine
about this reality. They had gotten to the point where Raed considered selling
a kidney. A friend suggested selling their infant. Binana couldn’t do that.
When the children were hungry at night, she would tell them to imagine their
favorite meal and go to sleep dreaming about it, together. This shared
illusionary family meal would still leave them waking up hungry. In the end,
they found they could make a little money buying vegetables at a wholesale
market and giving them to eight-year-old Yazan to sell on a cart by the road.
They regretted having to do that, but thought it was better than having their
child beg. UNHCR Goodwill Ambassador Ben Stiller visiting an informal
settlement in the Bekaa Valley, Lebanon, standing with a Syrian refugee.
I turned to Yazan, who was doodling a picture of an airplane with some
markers, and asked him if he was a good salesman. He smiled that winning smile
and the answer was obvious.
We walked out to his vegetable cart by the road. And, as he showed me where he
worked, the reality of an eight-year-old having to provide for his family sunk
in. Even crossing the road was an ordeal, which would be enough to concern a
parent, yet here he was showing me how he actually supported his family.
For refugees, childhood is cut short
While physically surviving this crisis is challenging, the psychological
effects on these kids and parents is just as concerning.
I remembered talking to a 13-year-old boy I met a couple of years ago in
Jordan. His family had fled Aleppo in 2013. He worked in a garage in Amman,
the capital, for 12 to 14 hours a day to support his brothers and sisters.
When I told him he was a hard-working kid, he told me proudly that he isn't a
kid, he's a man. When I look in Yazan’s eyes, I still see a kid, but I wonder
how long that will be. The war has lasted his whole life. It’s all he knows.
Ben with children at Zouq Bhannine informal settlement in Lebanon in March
2019.
Ben with children at Zouq Bhannine informal settlement in Lebanon
in March 2019.
The United Nations Human Rights Council/Michael Muller
In northern Lebanon I met a troupe of puppeteers who go from settlement to
settlement performing shows for refugee children about the different towns and
landmarks in their home country of Syria. While the show is entertaining for
these children who are living in a bleak environment, its main purpose is to
connect the kids with a place they don’t remember or, for most, have never
been. The man who performs the show told me his concern as a Syrian is that
these kids are the future of his country. They are the ones who will have to
rebuild Syria. How can they do that if they don’t know anything about their
homeland?
So, what can we do? In the face of complicated international conflicts that
are the root cause of these problems, we need to put a face to the numbers of
innocent people affected. Humanize it. We need to cut through the political
malaise, especially as it fades from the headlines, to remind the world this
is a humanitarian crisis of epic proportions. There are more than 68 million
displaced people in the world. There are more than 5.6 million Syrian
refugees. Within Syria itself, there are 6.6 million more internally
displaced.
We need to support organizations like UNHCR, the UN Refugee Agency, so they
can reach these people in need and provide them with life-saving support like
shelter, medical assistance, access to education and psychosocial services to
help them cope. On a broader level, we need to support the countries that are
overwhelmed on an infrastructure level.
And, most importantly, we need to stand with these people. We must remember a
refugee is a person, not a statistic. A refugee is a parent trying to protect
their child from rats in a stable. A refugee is a boy doodling a picture of an
airplane, who wants to someday be a pilot, but right now is selling vegetables
on a busy road in a place that isn’t home.
Ben Stiller UNHCR Goodwill Ambassador Published 10:15 AM EDT Mar 15, 2019 on
USA TODAY
***
Article by Ben Stiller
January 25, 2017
One percent. That is the surprising percentage of the world’s 21 million
refugees who will resettle in another country after fleeing their war-torn
homes. I had to ask the United Nations worker twice. “Just one percent of all
refugees?” “Yes, and the number is shrinking.”
Ben Stiller meets Syrian refugee children in Jordan's Azraq refugee
camp, where more than half of the 54,000 refugees registered there are
children. Photo Jordi Matas/UNHCR.
I was talking with a UNHCR Field Officer as he was verifying the biometric
data of a Syrian family being interviewed for resettlement at the UN’s refugee
registration center in Amman, Jordan. The fact that such a small fraction of
those displaced people are even identified for resettlement to the United
States or other countries — after undergoing a rigorous vetting process —
seems to fly in the face of the politics and news about refugees.
This was one of many things I learned on a recent trip with UNHCR, the UN
Refugee Agency, to visit camps set up with the Jordanian government and a
number of international NGOs, to deal with the influx of over 655,000 fleeing
to Jordan from the civil war there since 2011.
Like a lot of us, I am trying to reconcile how to be open-hearted and
empathetic to the plight of our fellow human beings while also being concerned
about our national security. The problem is complicated, and sometimes the
easiest way to deal with it, which I have personally been guilty of, is to
ignore it. We become anesthetized to the constant news of suffering children
in Aleppo and horrific violence and destruction in the region. How do we help
those in need in a way that makes a difference and doesn’t compromise our
safety here and abroad?
I, Ben Stiller, star of Dodgeball, do not have the answer. But by meeting with
refugees and those assisting them, I was able to get a better sense of some of
the realities.
Nobody wants to be a refugee.
This was the running theme at Azraq Camp, which sits in the middle of the
Jordanian desert. Approximately 54,000 of the 655,000 registered refugees in
Jordan from Syria are here. Over half are children. They live in small,
anonymous shelters with no electricity (though the solar grid comes online
soon), no running water and dirt floors.
This is where I talked to Mohamed and Alaa Salah and their two children.
Mohamed is a veterinarian; Alaa, an agricultural engineer. They are both young
and vivacious. They fled the carnage when bombs hit their neighborhood in Homs
and the trauma damaged their 4-year-old son Hussain’s vision. They are
grateful for safety, but stunned by their plight. “I miss my family so much,”
Alaa said. “But right now I can’t take my children back to death.”
These people want to go home.
Azraq’s makeshift marketplace has shops run by an equal number of Syrians and
local Jordanians. I asked one storekeeper, from Aleppo, who sold everything
from soap to soccer balls, if he wanted to go back. He looked at me as if I
was asking him whether he liked to breathe. After a moment, with a deep-eyed
smile, he said, “even the word ‘Syria’ gives me chills, because I so want to
go home.”
These children need a chance, for the world’s sake.
In the lower-income neighborhoods of Amman, one in five refugees are living
with the help of UNHCR cash-assistance programs that use iris scanners to
prevent fraud. One couple I met there, Haitham and his wife Um Khalil, fled
Aleppo three years ago with their eight children. While they are safe in
Amman, the danger they escaped continues for their family members remaining in
Syria. Um Khalil’s sister was killed just three months ago when she stepped on
a mine going to pick up clothes for her five children…
Haitham’s son, Khalil, is thirteen, with a cherubic face and round green eyes
that look like they have seen too much. His hands were stained with engine
grease. His father explained the boy worked as a mechanic, the previous day
from 7 am to 11 pm, to support his family. His family needs his income to
survive. Taking that in, I turned to Khalil and said that was quite a
responsibility for a boy. He listened to the translator then quickly and
proudly replied, “I’m a man, not a boy.”
While Khalil works, his twin sisters, like many refugee children, don’t have
access to education. I had an opportunity to meet with Jordanian King Abdullah
II and Queen Rania, who explained that due to the crushing load on
under-supported host countries like Jordan, which already has 170,000 Syrian
children in their free public schools, they can’t accommodate them all. Young
girls like Khalil’s sisters can help around the house but as they get older
they run the risk of being targeted by terrorist groups who indoctrinate
at-risk youths.
How we can help?
Every family I met shared a pride for their home country and the hope to live
a normal life. While a few were ready to move on to wherever the resettlement
process might take them, all professed a profound desire to eventually return
home. These are sentiments we — the public — can all connect with. UNHCR’s
#WithRefugees campaign is one way in which communities can reflect their
compassion.
I hope the new Trump Administration will conclude that compassion and security
are not mutually exclusive. On the contrary, they are mutually reinforcing.
The roots of the Syria refugee problems are complicated, and so are the
solutions. While a resolution of the conflict should be a priority, we must
support the humanitarian programs of UNHCR. We need to support our allies like
Jordan, who, with an astonishing 20 percent of their population made up of
fleeing Syrians, cannot carry the burden alone. What countries like Jordan do
profoundly affects us.
In this time of unrest in the Middle East and change in our country, when
frustration and xenophobia seem to dominate our news cycle and social media, I
hope we can all look at the faces of those we fear and see what is sometimes
hardest of all to recognize: ourselves.
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