Gods, homelands and families

Since time immemorial, war has been one of the tragic drivers of human mobility. Where there is conflict, there is flight; where there is violence, there is the disintegration of families and the dispersion of people. The continuous flow of those who leave without wanting to leave moves between the gods to whom we pray and who create insurmountable religious schisms, the homelands traced in blood and the families simply trying to survive.

The wars of the 21st century are not just made up of conflicts like those in Syria, Ukraine, Sudan and, more recently, those in the Middle East. There are climate wars, economic wars, silent in the media, that spread quickly and kill as many people as missiles or drones.

These seismic waves of displaced people that we call “migration crises” prevent us from seeing that, in most cases, these are not migrants, but refugees: people who did not leave their countries by choice, but for survival.

Families fleeing any of these wars bring not only baggage, but also shattered memories, broken relationships and an urgent need to start over in a place where they are not seen as a threat.

However, their acceptance is conditioned by their passport, ethnic origin, faith or the economic interest of the host country.

Most of the time these escapes are made in waves.

We know them well. We experienced them in the 1960s and 1970s, walking along the paths opened by “smugglers” towards France and Germany, fleeing the colonial war, the war of dictatorship, the war for bread that was hard to come by…

The mobility formula was very similar to what happens today, safeguarding the temporal and physical distances that carry with them contingencies that did not exist at the time. But the scheme was identical in every way: first the men went, leaving behind villages of old people, women and children. Then, after saving a few pennies, they “sent” the women on their way.

It was a time when they established independent housing in the dormitories they shared with their fellow countrymen. Tin houses and the remains of other houses, but they were a roof, a small seed that had become a root. The children gradually joined their parents. Some after finishing “Portuguese” school, others when they were already capable of some autonomy.

Family reunification has always been and will continue to be the basis for any integration. Without family there is no stability, no prospects for the future, no sense of building a life.

The Government's decision to limit family reunification to those already in national territory resolves the problem of regularizing those who, in one way or another, managed to accompany the person who now holds this right.

But it does not solve the problem of integration at all. I would even go so far as to say that, since there is no prospect of reuniting the family still in their country of origin, the regularization now being carried out for the thousands of applicants for Expressions of Interest who have been working (mostly precariously, it is true) and paying taxes for almost a decade, many of whom have been separated from their families for the same number of years, could contaminate the entire integration process and even create social instability with hints of violence.

It is commendable that there is no intention to create (more) shanty towns in Portugal like our emigrants did in the past, as well as every effort to create a more dignified life for our immigrants. This is a horizon that everyone wants, starting with them.

But it is also true that the Law (23/2007, which is now in its 17th version) is, in my opinion, quite permissive regarding reunification, extending it to ascendants of the migrant or his/her spouse, as well as to minor siblings of the holder of the right, provided that he/she is in his/her care: art. 99 of the aforementioned Law, which defines what is understood as family members for the purposes of family reunification.

Given this legislative panorama in force, it is understood that the Government should take into account the number of new migrants who, as a result of the regularization of one, could arrive.

However, we cannot go against the Charter of Human Rights, which enshrines the right to family reunification.

However, the process must in fact be rewritten, limiting it to the nuclear family, namely spouses and children (and/or stepchildren and/or adopted children) who are dependent on their parents, either physically or economically. Setting a maximum age limit for this does not seem wrong to me either, although I believe it would be appropriate to extend the bar to 21 years of age, at which point the young person may eventually finish their education.

The exception to this rule, and one that I have not heard a single word about so far, although global instability leads us to predict a new wave, will be refugees. What is the Government's position on family aggregation in the case of refugees and asylum seekers? In these cases, the moral and human imperative is not in line with the economic perspective of migratory movements, however humanistic it may be.

Now, what does not make sense is that these limitations do not apply to two groups of immigrants: the highly qualified and those holding ARIs (also known as Golden Visas). In the latter case, there has always been special treatment, as regrouping was immediate and will continue to be so. The mere distinction immediately leads us to envisage the existence of first-class migrants and second-class migrants.

There is a clear danger in the absence of a time horizon for those who now see their status regularized to be able to have their nuclear family with them. Integration will be more difficult, if not impossible, and social divisions will be felt in a more aggravated and even violent way.

All migration is more than a demographic or economic phenomenon. It reflects our humanity, or lack thereof.

Between the “gods” of security and geopolitics, who legitimize interventions and close borders, the “homelands” that defend themselves with selective nationalisms and the “families” that flee from hunger, indignity, fear and bombings, the profound asymmetry of the contemporary world is clear to anyone who wants to see.

And perhaps it is at this meeting point — between the ruins of the lives left behind and the hope of a new beginning — that we should listen, with humility, to the stories of those who left their homeland, but never gave up, nor want to give up, on their family.

The texts in this section reflect the personal opinions of the authors. They do not represent VISÃO nor do they reflect its editorial position.