In these days of ‘crisis’, ‘floods’ of migrants ‘swarming’ at borders, ‘security ever at risk’ and the danger of Europe being ‘overwhelmed’, words take on added significance.

We search for a language that matches our feelings, informed or otherwise. 

How we describe the situation, how we construct its meaning, how we build its current and future geography, the signals, and messages we choose and how we contribute to public dialogue are all extremely important. 

Pope Francis reminded us forcefully of this during his recent visit, but for very many these were just (naïve or unfair) words from an out of touch cleric.  Certainly, our government didn’t even hear them.

Words evoke emotions, emotions generate responses, responses imply (in)action and all create consequences.  This we know from recent experiences here in Malta (and especially on our seas) and indeed elsewhere across Europe, most immediately in Britain. 

But what is now happening does not happen in a vacuum; it is but the latest verse in a long story of history and geography. It is a verse that excavates the very meaning of the word ‘Europe’ and what it means to be European today. 

I go back to an important mentor, the brilliant British essayist and commentator John Berger who, in 1990 commented on the link between words and stories:

‘When we read a story, we inhabit it. The covers of the book are like a roof and four walls. What is to happen next will take place within the four walls of the story. And this is possible because the story's voice makes everything its own.’

We are continually rewriting the European story and the ‘guts’ of that story; it will partly define us and the legacy we pass on to those immediately behind (for me, my grandchildren Dylan, Ruby, Donny and Maud).  For all of us, this is an intensely personal story and for those currently the ‘villains’ or ‘victims’ of that story, it could not be more personal.

That constantly repeated mantra, ‘illegal’: it points and accuses, simultaneously revealing and concealing so much. The term ‘illegal’ is itself legally incorrect when applied to migration contexts. Being undocumented is not a crime but an administrative category - it is not an offence against persons, property or even ‘security. ‘Illegal’ makes little sense, as children are deemed ‘illegal’. ‘Illegal’ denies international law, which is designed precisely to prevent states designating anyone as less than a legal person.  

And it violates. It violates a fundamental right – that of due process, without which we are all ‘guilty’.  Fleeing is not in itself an offence, either. Waiting for ‘permission’ or ‘legal documentation’ a smug fiction for the safe and the secure.

‘Illegal’ dehumanises, degrades and denies human dignity; it justifies punitive responses; it stimulates ‘policing’, ‘detention’ and ‘restrictions’; it criminalises (even those who help) and thus separates out (‘they’).  It echoes evil chapters of Europe’s history. 

‘Illegal’ stifles debate, undermines truth, prejudices judgements, outcomes, and basic humanity – ‘theirs’ and ours.  And, of course, it avoids reality – the realities that create and mould the context - poverty, oppression, rape, killing, discrimination as against safety, protection, life and hope. 

‘Illegal’ denies human solidarity, encourages self-centredness, and assumed superiority; it opts for exclusion over inclusion; it eats away at any deeper sense of a shared common future at immense cost to all.  ‘Illegal’ fosters suspicion, mistrust, hostility and eventually violence (witness Lassana Cisse).  It erodes a fundamental value all need in creating a meaningful future – that of community and social cohesion.

‘Illegal’ is inappropriate, discriminatory, oppressive and harmful for all of us; if we do not challenge it, we are threatened with re-living a European history we vowed to leave behind.  As someone who believes strongly in a European Project, ‘illegal’ shames me. In the context of Syria, Libya, the Mediterranean ….it should shame us all.

To finish, John Berger again:

‘Everything in life, is a question of drawing a line, John, and you have to decide for yourself where to draw it. You can’t draw it for others. You can try, of course, but it doesn't work. People obeying rules laid down my somebody else is not the same thing as respecting life. And if you want to respect life, you have to draw a line.’