LONGING FOR A HOME THAT'S NO LONGER THERE

Political stability has never been a characteristic of human societies - we have been prone to creating and living under all kinds of crisis for as long as we can remember. Immigration, the movement of humans from one side of the globe to another, is also as old as time. Taking these two statements into account, one shouldn’t be bothered much with the amount of people currently missing a home that is no longer there. But, nonetheless, we are. I am.

The pain of detachment is also as old as time. Poets, authors and intellectuals have always written about longing for a home far away, a person out of reach, and the difficulties of dealing with an environment in which you do not fit in seamlessly.

Albeit an immigrant myself, I never found myself giving much thought on the matter. I of course sometimes miss the gloomy skies of Antwerp, or certain foods and smells, but I left Belgium by choice and with no qualms. It was never a matter of necessity or survival. It was part of my growth.

And yet, I cannot help but think of the ones who are forced to fee but also about the ones who choose to leave their homes, not out of pure necessity or danger, but as a result of a breaking point between them and the place they call home. Those who look at their governments with disbelief and disappointment, those who can no longer recognise the place they once called home, and those who watch as their fellow members of society are drawn to extremism at an alarming pace.

I personally started to better understand the pain of forced exile through a personal experience when my daughter and I helped an Afghan feminist lawyer flee Afghanistan when the Taliban took over power after the withdrawal of the U.S. in August 2021.

I have further developed more specific thoughts on the matter after reading several interviews by actress Golshifteh Farahani, an actress I admire.

Born and raised in Iran, she found herself unable to return following a film performance that the Iranian government deemed a violation of Islamic law. Golshifteh has been residing in Paris since 2009. On every opportunity, she expresses her love for her country and people, and the agony of having to live in exile, disconnected from her roots, no matter how comfortable she lives in France.

Today, everywhere we look, the world is in crisis. Political instability is high, and it seems to only get worse; the pendulum effect is in full force in Europe and the US, with voters turning to both extreme ends of the political scale. Uprisings and coup attempts are occurring in South America and Africa. Eastern Europe and the Middle East are deeply involved in terrible wars, with no end in sight. East Asia has been on the cusp of military conflict for quite some time.

As a matter of fact, in the first six months of 2023 (by the end of June 2023) 110 million people were forcibly displaced worldwide, as a result of persecution, con?ict, violence, human rights violations or events seriously disturbing public order.

Just to name one group of professionals that are constantly threatened - journalists. Hundreds left their home countries in 2023 and go into exile every year.

Over 70% of the world’s population lives under authoritarian regimes. Most of the time, the first thing these regimes do is suppress freedom of the press.?

Many countries are battling between two extremes that would affect two significant groups - one side is accused of Anti-Semitism, and the other with Islamophobia. In any way the pendulum turns, people belonging to one of the aforementioned groups will have to ask themselves some hard questions: do we stay, or do we leave? And if we do leave, where to? Where can we possibly be safe?

I am left to wonder - what world are we slowly marching towards? How many future refugees are there? How many people will see no other option but to leave their home, after no longer recognising it? How many people will have to carry the burden of being detached from their roots and their culture, of longing for a connection, a link, that is far away and perhaps out of reach?

Further than that, and perhaps in closer relation to my own professional field, what kinds of effects would such a global crisis bring to our physical and mental health? I have talked about the connection between the physical and the psychological many times in my newsletter, and my opinion shouldn’t be new to my readers. What kinds of autoimmune diseases, cancers, and other illnesses could possibly grow in number, in accordance with a rise in cases of depression and anxiety, all linked to the experience of exile?

A mind without a home and a feeling of belonging is a restless mind. And a restless mind often leads to an unhealthy body.

What would be the solution to this? Do we continue the never-ending cycle of immigration, or do we stay and fight?