The flag is up: the Good Samaritan versus Lazarus – by Jonathan Thomas

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Immigration to the UK continues to be a big story, with many sub-plots. The most recent episodes involving asylum hotels, local protests and flags.  

‘France is not war’

The asylum system leaves the public confused. They tend to be most sympathetic to those fleeing from war. But those people are not considered refugees. International law provides refugee protection to those being persecuted by their own government, not those being attacked by another government.

And while wars are visible, many types of persecution are less so. Polling consistently shows that while most people are generally welcoming of refugees they are also sceptical that most of those claiming asylum are in fact being persecuted.

The Channel crossings have further confused the story over asylum. Sudanese men in the Calais camps say they are trying to reach the UK because ‘Sudan is war’ and the UK isn’t. But when it is put to them that ‘France is not war’ either, so why are they trying to escape France, they display a clear belief they will get more generous assistance in the UK than they will in France.

A hotel break

Part of this assistance is being put up in hotels. Some see this as dehumanising and isolating for the asylum seeker. But others regard it as luxury treatment. 

The Daily Mail’s list of asylum seeker ‘perks’ might be exaggerated, but the fact is that locals are allowed to be homeless, whereas asylum seekers must be accommodated by the state. Locals struggling under the cost of living crisis watch asylum seekers being put up at the state’s expense. YouTube videos foment their anger with stories of asylum seekers getting four meals a day and trips out.

Flying the flag

Some people get riled. They start flying the Union Jack or the Cross of St George, or painting them on the road. Other people then get riled by this, imputing the worst possible motives to those engaged in it. The rinse and repeat cycle of mutual distrust and misunderstanding intensifies.

Of course, protests and flag waving can be instigated, hijacked or exploited by dark forces. But just as with concerns about immigration more broadly, not all flag flying necessarily springs from a dark well, or indeed from the same well at all.

An unlikely trigger

The main ‘incident’ which initially triggered the flag flying in the UK this summer on the face of it had no connection with tensions around immigration, asylum or hotels. It happened at the end of term culture celebration day at Bilton Secondary School in Rugby.

The pupils were encouraged to come to school wearing clothing that represented their nationality or heritage, and to speak about what in their culture was important to them. A 12-year old girl came to school in a union jack dress planning to give a speech about why British culture was important to her, which – after the predictable stuff about kings, queens, fish and chips and sense of humour – ended with:

“sometimes at school we only hear about other cultures – which is great because learning about different countries is interesting and important. But it can feel like being British doesn’t count as a culture, just because it’s the majority. I think culture should be for everyone – not just for people from other countries or backgrounds. Being British is still a culture, and it matters too. It’s part of who I am. So let’s celebrate all cultures – whether they come from far away ro right here at home.”

But she was prevented by the school from giving her speech, was made to feel uncomfortable about her outfit, and went home very upset. The school apologised, but this incident went viral, publicised by her equally upset father.  This was how the BBC reported it:

Galvanised

For reasons not entirely clear it particularly galvanised a group of men in a Birmingham suburb over 40 miles away, who have since raised over £20,000 online promising to use “all funds for flags, poles and cable ties”, and taking requests from donors as to which roads the flags should be put up on, one lamp post at a time. 

Their motivation, they say is:

“a common goal to show Birmingham and the rest of the country of how proud we are of our history, freedoms and achievements. Giving hope to local communities that all isn’t lost and they are not alone.”

Do they mean it? Who knows. But it seems perfectly plausible that some might feel moved to donate who would never have considered flying a flag, or daubing the St George’s Cross on a mini roundabout outside a migrant hotel. And it has proven an inspiration for others all around the country to start putting up flags.

Retro empire fantasists?

Some respected journalistic voices are now reflecting that flag flying motivations may be more complex than the cartoonish depiction of it as the preserve of racist little Englanders or retro exploitative empire fantasists.

And liberal commentators are concerned that the fact that England is alone among countries in feeling this way about flying its own flag is only playing into the hands of the political right:

“When councils, schools or public buildings raise Ukrainian flags, it is a gesture of solidarity. When some fly Palestinian flags, it is a sign of compassion or protest. Yet if someone dares to hang the Union flag or the Cross of St George from their window, they are branded jingoistic or reactionary. That double standard breeds resentment. It leaves ordinary people asking “Why are other nations’ flags welcomed on our streets, but not our own?”

Good Samaritan v Lazarus

And there are also deeper moral, and indeed theological, issues at stake here as well as political ones, as Michael Merrick explores in ‘Who today is our Lazarus at the gates?’.

For him, Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan gives a clear basis to welcome the stranger and offer immediate care to those in need. But what happens if this ‘welcoming of the stranger’ extends to the Church dismissing, lecturing and despising those in local communities who are less welcoming?

Unmoored from communities

Merrick argues that in this process the Church has become unmoored from the very communities it used to be rooted in and from the people that sustained it:

“We no longer share their experiences. We no longer speak to their concerns. Worse, it can feel that we, like everyone else who despises them, not only dismiss their concerns but work hard to tell them why they’re wrong. We have made a space for all in our churches – and all to the good – but have we made a space for these? Have we shared their tears, their tragedies, have we called attention to their plight? These are the social outcasts of today. And we have become respectable …

Someone known

And this is where the implications of Jesus’ story of how the rich man treated the impoverished Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31 ) is relevant:

“Perhaps we could do with reminding ourselves of the story of the rich man and Lazarus. The point of Lazarus at the gates was not that he was a stranger, but that he was known. Not that he was a one-off encounter at the roadside, but that he was stepped over, day after day, by people in his own place…

Lazarus challenges us not because he is a call for an out-of-the-ordinary act of caritas for someone we don’t know, but because he demands an ongoing act of love for someone we do. He demands that we hear him, that we see him, in all his suffering, there at our gates, that we care and that we act…”

Stepped over and ignored

Merrick wonders, has the Church been so seduced by the conceptual simplicity of ‘welcoming the stranger’ that it has neglected a more challenging task?

“I propose that they are there, in a great many communities, wracked with anxiety and fear and anger, and feeling increasingly mutinous. I propose that they feel abandoned, and despised, stepped over, and ignored. I propose that our call to social action has too often glossed over the hurt and wounded in these communities. I propose that we have been guilty partners in that abandonment. And that our flight has been a disaster for those people.”

Indeed. Helping the stranger is after all so much easier, and obviously rewarding, for those doing the helping, than the damnedly difficult and conflicted task of helping Lazarus.

So Lazarus is having to help himself. And this summer we have seen that he is doing so by investing in some flags.

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Jonathan Thomas is a Senior Fellow responsible for immigration policy at the Social Market Foundation think tank.

Read Michael Merrick’s Together for the Common Good article: Who today is our Lazarus at the gates?