On the evening of November 12th, I was in a taxi in heading to dinner with colleagues in Beirut when I heard the news. A suicide bomber had detonated in a southern suburb. The number of deaths, injuries and damages unknown. By the time I arrived at my destination, an outdoor restaurant in well-known Zaitunay Bay, a second bombing had occurred and the news had spread across the city. At least 40 dead and 200 injured, the most deadly attack since the end of the Lebanese civil war in the early 90’s. Looking around me it was impossible to tell that anything out of the ordinary had happened. Waiters patiently took orders, customers perused the menu and chattered on. No formal announcements were made or extra security in sight. Life continued uninterrupted. Normally I hear about such tragedies from the safety and security of my home in Canada. This time, even though the bombings were less than 2 kilometers from my hotel, I still felt like I was in another country. As a Lebanese friend put it to me that evening, “We have become immune”.
What she really meant is that they have become used to this. Attacks in Lebanon and across the Middle East are ‘normal’, and, many now fear, will become the new normal in Western countries.
The next day my colleague and I were again horrified at the news—this time coming from France. We worried for our colleagues and friends back at UNESCO headquarters in Paris. Her husband had been watching the game in the Stade de France, and updated her every few minutes on his safety and journey back home. Suddenly we were on the other side of tragedy again—I was asking about the safety of my friends, instead of reassuring my own, and hearing the news from the safety and security of another country. Thankfully friends and colleagues were shaken but unharmed. Relief quickly gave way to sadness and grief, however.
I wondered—what is next? Where is next?
Above all, I wondered why. Why are these atrocities happening, around the world and at an accelerated pace? Why are young people, some as young as 20 in the case of Paris, driven to these ends? And what can I do, as an education in emergencies specialist working internationally, and as a Canadian citizen living in Toronto, in the face of such tragedy?
Over my next few days in the Middle East, I saw what might begin to provide some answers. In my conversations with Ministry of Education officials, aid agency staff, refugee camp coordinators, country donors, local NGO workers and teachers, Syrian refugee parents, children and young people, across Lebanon, Jordan and Iraq—the common message was that a person with viable alternatives rarely chooses terrorism. A child or young person with access to quality education and meaningful livelihood opportunities is rarely drawn to radicalism. When all other life-saving supports are assured, such as food, water, shelter and protection, quality education can deliver hope for the future, build individual resilience and restore meaning to life. School can provide a sense of belonging to combat feelings of bitterness or alienation, and a commitment to live for oneself and one’s family.
Unfortunately, the international community, including Canada, has fallen far short on its commitments to fund education as a key intervention in humanitarian crises. The Regional Refugee and Resilience Plan (or 3RP) is the international community’s overall costed strategy for the region—Egypt, Iraq, Jordan, Lebanon and Turkey—to assist with the integration of Syrian refugees, as well as provide support for the impacted communities and help to alleviate the additional burden on the national systems of these host countries. As of July, the 3RP had received only 37% of the funding needed for 2015. Ministry of Education staff I spoke with claim this number represents only committed funds, and actual funds delivered barely reach 17%. Education is still one of the poorest sectors in humanitarian responses. So far this year, of the $455 million requested, the Sector has received a commitment of only $129 million to support educational opportunities for 2.3 million refugees and community members[1]. The massive gaps in donor financing to the Syrian crisis response and to education specifically, should concern us all.
As Canadians, we should also be aware of issues with our government’s commitment to domestic refugee resettlement and education. Dramatic funding cuts to education settlement services in 2010, capacity support for teachers and administrators to welcome newcomer students and a more welcoming policy environment related to access to schooling are just some of the concerns to be addressed here at home. A summary of the issues was posted here last month as well as a template for a letter to your MP to ensure these issues are being discussed as part of the wider national discussions to #WelcomeRefugees.
We are using this blog as a way to highlight the integral role of education in the response to the global refugee crisis—in the countries of origin, in the countries of first asylum and here in Canada. Over the last few months we have seen citizens across the country inspired to support Syrian refugee children including in our schools and in our communities. In next week’s blog post, we’ll focus on the impact of the crisis on Syrian children’s education, including the long-term implications and what can be done both here in Canada and abroad.
-Andrea Diaz Varela
Check back next week to follow the discussion on Canada’s role in preventing a lost generation of Syrian children.
Education in Emergencies 