Tag Archives: South Africa

We Revolt Because You Are: In Solidarity with Ahed Tamimi


The I Am Ahed Exhibition will run until the 21st of March at the Constitution Hill Women’s Jail [Graphic: Brigitte Cavé]

On Wednesday, the 31st of January 2018, the I Am Ahed exhibition was launched at the old Women’s Jail at Constitution Hill in Johannesburg. The exhibition features a series of photographs taken by Haim Schwarczenberg, who documented the Friday protests in the Occupied West Bank village of Nabi Saleh. The launch of the exhibition coincided with the 17th birthday of Ahed Tamimi, who is being detained and trialled by an Israeli military court for resisting the Occupation and slapping an Israeli soldier. Transcribed below is the speech that I gave, in my capacity as Chairperson of Amnesty International Wits, at the exhibition launch. It has been lightly edited for clarity.

Who is Ahed Tamimi? If you were to ask Israeli media outlets, they would tell you that she is a provocateur, a trouble-maker, even a terrorist. If you were to ask Michael Oren, Israel’s former ambassador to the US, he would tell you that she is a fabrication, created by a Palestinian effort to discredit the IDF as they aid the ‘noble’ work of colonising Palestine. The truth, however, is immediately apparent to anyone who looks upon her case without the distortions of Hasbara propaganda.

Ahed Tamimi is a child, whose only crime is refusing to bow to an illegal Occupation. She is being put on trial by a kangaroo court for the same reason women were once held in this jail – because they were not passive in the face of Apartheid. Ahed Tamimi is a hero, who is being shackled by a state which seeks to subjugate her.

The extent of this subjugation is difficult to overstate. As the chairperson of an Amnesty International chapter, I have been asked which human rights have been violated in Ahed’s case. Indeed, the easier and more apt question is: Which of Ahed’s fundamental human rights have not been trampled upon by Israeli Apartheid? Israel has entirely disregarded all of Ahed’s rights – from her right to a fair trial, to her free movement, free assembly and free expression, to the right to education, healthcare and even water. Put simply, Israel has robbed Ahed of her right to live out her childhood unhindered by the suffocation of Occupation.

This is neither incidental nor accidental. Ahed’s trial is worthy of our attention not because it is out of the ordinary, but precisely because this is what passes as normal under an Apartheid regime. Ahed is one of more than 350 Palestinian children currently being detained by Israel. She is one of more than 8000 Palestinian children detained since the turn of the century. When Palestinian children are not considered children at all – when they are seen as ‘terrorists in training’ – it speaks volumes about Israel’s attempt to dehumanise them. It exposes the reality that we must recognise – Israel systematically desecrates the rights of Palestinians precisely because Israel sees the Palestinians as less than human.

As South Africans, we are not unfamiliar with the unjust realities of institutionalised racism. As a nation, we have confronted the tactics of banning orders and administrative detention before. It is the reason that these halls remained barred – as a reminder and a promise to never forget. If we are to honour this memory, we must vocalise our support for the liberation of Palestine, as others vocalised their support for the liberation of our country from the subjugation of Apartheid.

Now is the time for us to extend beyond our borders an ethic of radical Ubuntu: “We struggle because you are struggling. We revolt because you are. And we will resist anyone who denies your right to live freely on your land.”

That is why we are here today – to celebrate the resistance of Ahed Tamimi, and to reaffirm our solidarity with all children being detained by Israel. To them we say: We see your struggle, we adopt it as our own, and we will continue to call for your immediate and unconditional release. We are also here to send a message to the State of Israel: The world is watching. We will not look away. We will not lower our voices. The noise of resistance will not dissipate. From here, it will only grow louder.


Red Flags, Red Berets and the Ballot Coup: Free Education and the Wits SRC Election


(Photo: Delwyn Verasamy, Mail and Guardian)

Wits is alive with the tumultuous energy of struggle song, while political regalia dots the campus with patches of yellow, and patches of red. With the SRC election less than a week away, the campus which birthed Fees Must Fall last October is set to elect its next set of student representatives. At this crucial juncture in South African student history, this year’s SRC election is far more significant than a mere exercise in political posturing. Its outcome will shape the future of the student movement and the strategy that will be implemented in the battle for free education. This year’s election, therefore, demands the undivided attention of us all.

Three parties are set to face off next week. The incumbent party, holding thirteen out of fifteen seats in the current SRC, is the Progressive Youth Alliance (PYA) – a coalition of the ANC Youth League, SASCO, the Young Communists League and the Muslim Students Association. They are being challenged by the Wits EFF Students’ Command and Project W. No party in the field is perfect. However, this should not render them equally ineffectual in the eyes of the student body. Some are better, some are worse, and others are, if we are to be honest, an embarrassment.

To get the embarrassment out of the way, let’s deal with Project W. Project W is a cynical experiment in solipsism, built upon the fallacious notion that a university’s SRC can be apolitical in a political world. Their stunning refusal to engage the complexities of the socio-political space is matched only by their masochistic impulse to lead with this idea of an apolitical campus when publicly squaring off with their opponents. The party patronises students by assuming that we are equally incapable and unwilling to tackle political complexity. Given the role of politics on campus – and indeed, the role of campuses in politics – over the decades, Project W is as ahistorical as they are apolitical. Their neutrality in political situations of moral urgency serves to bolster oppressive power structures and inflate the confidence of the ruling class. Engaging the country’s socio-politics is crucial, extraordinarily so in the context of the movement for free education. Project W is hence extraordinarily irrelevant, even by their own standards. Their conspicuous absence during Fees Must Fall is a sobering reminder that, were they to win this election, their line will jeopardise the future of the student movement. Project W is a galaxy of fallacies that aggregated from a cloud of delusion and apathy. They are a non-option.

The choice is hence between the PYA and the Wits EFF. The EFFSC has abandoned its distaste for the official political space (a distaste that one may argue is justified, given that their party was collectively punished last year and barred from running) and is now a serious contender. The campaign they have implemented balances Bikoist ideology with the consideration of basic issues that directly impact students. (It is noteworthy that this exposes another flaw in the Project W line, for one needn’t be apolitical to aid students in graduating). Echoing the process which drafted the Freedom Charter – amongst the most radical leftist documents in our nation’s history – the EFF has crowd-sourced their election manifesto, compiling it from the suggestions of the students whom they wish to represent. The party’s propensity for political disruption, a core tenet of effective protest, is indubitable – something indispensible in a battle against a system that stifles momentum through bureaucracy and delay. The EFF has therefore built a base from which they hope to claim the majority of the SRC from the PYA. Come next week, the Fighters’ Student Command is hoping to execute a Ballot Coup.

What, then, justifies the urgency of ousting the old guard? The incumbent PYA is aligned with the ANC, and hence a contradiction lies at the core of their organisational identity. Luthuli House provides the party with funding, support, and the occasional order to pacify student populations and halt protests. At times, it seems the PYA has inherited the arrogance of its parent organisation. When the Wits council debated the overhaul of IT infrastructure on campus, a project that will cost over half a billion rand, this SRC supported the move without consulting the student body, failing to account for the fact that it’s absurd to spend a nine-digit figure on improving wifi access on a campus where students don’t have accommodation or food. Moreover, red flags must be raised over the PYA’s decision to halt the university shut down last year before an insourcing commitment had been won. When a party intends to exploit the pain of exploited workers, only to dispose of them afterwards, students must respond in kind and dispose of that party. The workers are not a periphery concern – betraying them is inexcusable.

All of that said, I do not wish to discredit everything the Alliance has achieved. Nor am I implying that there aren’t committed comrades within the PYA who are invaluable to the student movement. It is possible to be more nuanced.  Yes, the PYA-led SRC played a crucial role in halting this year’s fee increase, galvanising students and driving free education to the top of the agenda. However, the PYA-led SRC was also crucial in the dissolution of student unity and the obstruction of that very agenda. The breakdown of trust between a university’s SRC and its students crippled last year’s movement for free education and squandered the momentum that we had gathered. We cannot allow for this to be repeated.

The SRC is the sole body with an official popular mandate. Tremendous legitimacy is lent to the movement if its leadership is elected by students, for students. However, we cannot have an SRC led by a PYA that can prioritise its partisan alliances over workers and the cry for free education. We should not accept an SRC that implores students to celebrate a non-increase within a broken status quo, while refusing to address the core of the problem because it involves confronting their superiors at Luthuli House. To allow the ANC to speak through a PYA SRC is to allow the establishment to dictate the terms of a movement that was forged in opposition to its failures. 

Soon, it will become necessary to indict the ANC government and hold it accountable in a concrete way. At the moment, it seems the PYA would rather pander to xenophobia and punish innocent immigrant shopkeepers than do so.  We cannot allow the SRC to be turned into a fundraising office while the structural inequality is left unaddressed. Last year’s failures are proof that we cannot trust the ANC to march on itself. Moving forward, we need a student leadership that is not tied to the agenda of the ruling party. What is needed now is student unity – a unity that is difficult to forge while this conflict of interest is alive within our elected structures. The PYA can be part of the new SRC, but if it’s unity we want, it is best if they do not lead it. If they do, we need to disabuse them of their loyalty to their parent party, or organise beyond the official. However, achieving either of these will be no easy task. Ideally, we need an alternative.

At this election, therefore, I will cast my vote in favour of the party with the largest base among workers, a party that didn’t evaporate after the marginal concession of a 0% increase was won. It is also the party whose iconoclasm has animated our national politics and that is unafraid to articulate the rage of the black child against an ANC that is corrupt and failing to redress inequality. When I walk into that voting booth, I shall strike my pen across the boxes next to the red berets.

The reason for doing so is simple: if the EFF wins a majority in the SRC, effectively counterbalanced by a smaller contingent of PYA members, we will place ourselves within a dispensation wherein student unity can be rebuilt without the risk of the ruling party completely derailing it. The ANC is not the only threat to the forging of a united student front, but it is quite possibly the greatest one we face. If we overcome it, we can prompt a surge in momentum that will once again transform us into a formidable force – a force that must prise open the doors of higher education, with urgency.

Suspension has Ended: Revolution is Returning

wits protest

The fierce urgency of now. This was the phrase, coined by Martin Luther King Jr., that I scribbled onto a piece of paper on Friday afternoon, while camped in solidarity inside an occupied Senate House. Surrounding me were scores of students – sisters, brothers, comrades, the dispossessed and their allies – sitting in the nucleus of a movement that was in its third day of a successful shut down of Wits University. A few meters before me was the student leadership, donning the shirts of parties accustomed to rivalry between themselves, negotiating with Vice-Chancellor Adam Habib. Habib had suggested he leave Senate House to convene with council and was met with thunderous objection from the crowd gathered. Eventually, the people decreed that they would not wait – council would meet that day, in Senate House, in full view of the students whose lives were impacted by their decisions. No closed doors. No secrets. Direct accountability. Habib agreed. At that moment, Dr King’s declaration echoed in my mind: “We are now faced with the fact that tomorrow is today”. We were indeed confronted with the fierce urgency of now – and it was glorious.

This departure from the lethargic politics of bureaucracy and delay was invigorating. Inside the dimly lit, vast chamber of Senate House, we were a revolutionary collective. Although student leaders (crucially, female leaders who were pushed out of the spotlight too often) spearheaded the movement, they were aware of their role as a proxy for the people. They stood on the shoulders of the students, and weren’t allowed to forget that without popular support, they could not stand up to the powers that be. Every decision, down to the organisation of food, was ratified by popular consensus. The spirit of democracy danced among us. A healthy suspicion of authority sat in our ranks. Hierarchy slowly dissolved in the acid of persistent mockery, directed towards power structures and their petty manifestations. Inside our contingent collective, the vice-chancellor wasn’t afforded his title. Civility remained, but decorum was discarded. We refused to engage in the fruitless spectacle of ceremonial flattery and political theatre. In contrast to the town hall meetings hosted by political representatives, where citizens queue for the opportunity to ask a question of an aggrandised figurehead, the engagement with Habib did not give him much leeway to engage in tactics of diversion and duplicity. Although he was not being held against his will, he was under pressure to engage with students possessed by an uncompromising political will. The ordinary, impotent mode of discourse had been turned on its head.

The Senate House I sat in was radically different from the one I’ve walked into countless times before. Of course, it was materially indiscernible – the same brown and blue university banners hanging from beams spanning the high ceilings, the same concrete pillars climbing to the skies, the same set of converging stairs rising like a peculiar altar from the polished floor and descending into a crypt below. However, the first time I walked into that foyer of the executive, the fumes that clung to the walls of my nostrils were those of polish from the gleaming floors. On Friday evening, it was the choking stench of pepper spray. The space had changed.

It was not just the halls of Senate House that had transformed. During the three day peaceful occupation of the university, it was all too apparent that business as usual had ceased. Some areas of campus were left almost eerily deserted; others were filled with the vibrant energy of rhythmic protest. Seeing the university in this radically different light is, if I may be so bold, a variation of Camus’s Absurd, spawning a peculiarly pleasant kind of Sartrean Nausea. The buildings on campus ordinarily wear the garment of the Institution. The occupation disrobed it. It divorced the space from the veneer of authority and the presumptions of power which usually pervade it. It illuminated our agency to radically redefine it. The realisation of radical freedom may be existentially unsettling, but it is politically liberating. Looking upon an institution that has departed starkly from its usual character, an aura of anarchism meets the eye: the university is not inherently imbued with any indomitable hierarchy, nor is the society which surrounds it structured in a manner that is unchangeable. Its people have no concrete, pre-ordained telos. We are the agents who define the essence that existence precedes. This movement is the product of a generation’s realisation of its own power. And, when we stand together, worker and student hand-in-hand, powerful we are indeed.

Later on Friday evening, while the pepper spray dissipated in the packed halls of Senate House, key members of the council convened. Feverish negotiation followed, stretching deep into the night.  As the sun was only just beginning to peer out from beyond the horizon the next morning, an interim agreement was signed: the decision to raise fees will be suspended, no students or workers who participated in the protests will face punitive measures and crucially, the university will not be at liberty to revert to its original position if negotiations break down. In a vindication of protest tactics, the students had emerged with a clear path towards victory. Those perched atop their privilege, who spent much of last week trying to justify their inaction or opposition by cynically criticising the occupation, were forced to face the concrete results those tactics had produced. In our hands, we held a declaration of our own power – a testament to the strength of our political will.

The Student Awakening is spreading. As sparks from the fire raging at Wits find kindling at UCT, Rhodes University, and the others that will most certainly follow, it’s clear that our generation is shedding its image as the one born outside of Apartheid and inside of Apathy. As we move forward today to hear from council, we are mindful of the fact that our struggle will not end here. The decision to raise fees was not taken in a vacuum, but rather in a climate of marginalisation, commercialisation and dispossession that has excluded the poor for too long. It was the flashpoint, the prelude to a paradigm shift that must occur. Reasons to resist have not evaporated: from the exploitation of outsourced workers, to wealth inequality that is staggeringly high; from dwindling government subsidies, to the fact that even without increases, fees remain too high for too many. Struggle, therefore, should not cease. No longer can we allow our universities to perpetuate a status quo they ought to challenge. If we conserve this momentum, we can become the custodians of a force Victor Hugo deemed indomitable: an idea whose time has come. South Africa’s students have awoken, and we’re ending the suspension of its revolution.

No Brotherhood with Bloodlust: A Poem of Protest against Xenophobia in South Africa


No Brotherhood with Bloodlust

You, South African

You, filled with cancerous hate

Merciless sealer of innocent fate

You, persecutor of the ‘other’

You are not my brother


You, South African

You, filled with fatal fear

Who kills with conscience all too clear

You, beating until hands blister

You are not my sister


You, South Africa

You, country of my birth

Fierce fire of freedom’s hearth

You, stubborn hope in my heart

You stand not from Africa apart


You, find humanity, children of stardust

Speak louder and declare:

No brotherhood with bloodlust


Raees Noorbhai

A Personal Polling Station: Internet Voting and The Future of the Electoral System

Google's Doodle on May 7, the date of South Africa's general election

Google’s Doodle on May 7, the date of South Africa’s general election

At the dawn of South African democracy in 1994, millions of liberated citizens left their homes, unhindered by the shackles of segregation, to assume their position at the country’s helm on April 27th of that year. South Africa’s first free election-a culmination of decades of struggle-was a victory for democracy and saw invigorated voters display remarkable patience as they stood in seemingly endless queues, oblivious to the brutality of the African sun above, to make their mark and steer the country into a new future. On May 7th of this year, South Africans are once again given that opportunity to oust the establishment-in a country with a political landscape that has tremendously transformed over the past two decades. Regardless of this altered national dialogue however, the voting mechanism has not evolved and millions of ballots will be cast this year as they were 20 years ago-by making a mark on a piece of paper in a designated voting station.

In a world where the internet permeates ever facet of life, this method seems increasingly anachronistic. For years, the possibility of utilizing the technology of the net to conduct a national election was considered an inevitability by scores of internet users. This dream materialized in 2007, when the Baltic Republic of Estonia offered voters the opportunity to remotely cast their ballots from behind the screen of their nearest computer. Four years later, candidates were propelled to the Riigikogu, Estonia’s parliament, by an election in which 24.3% of voters indicated their choice online, with some even exploiting newly mandated chipped mobile phones. Less than a decade after it began by nudging municipal polling stations into the cyber world, the great Estonian Experiment was a resounding success. However, few nations have followed into the realm of internet democracy-for Estonia is far from typical.

With a mere 1.3 million citizens, the small Northern European state’s population is dwarfed by those of larger nations, such as the world’s populous democracy-India-which houses more than one billion people within its borders. Therefore, the logistical challenges surrounding the deployment of a remote e-voting system to accommodate Estonian voters are barely comparable to those which will be faced when deploying it within a country with a far larger populace. Sites attempting to cope with the traffic created by millions of voters may find themselves struggling to drink from what is effectively a fire hydrant. Moreover, unlike the prevailing attitude in most other countries, internet access is deemed to be a human right in Estonia and the net penetration rate in the Baltic state, widely considered one of the most wired countries in Europe, is among the highest in the world. Put simply: Estonia is the perfect candidate for the deployment of digital democracy.

Consequently, few states have only partially repeated Estonia’s success and those that have done so are exclusively developed, first world nations like Australia, Canada and Austria. For third world countries, where basic infrastructure in sectors like healthcare and education are inadequate, the notion of an internet-based voting system is considered to be but a pipe dream. Even countries like Brazil, Venezuela and India, which have implemented e-voting systems at polling stations, are far from the levels of internet penetration needed to accommodate a viable remote voting system. However, the obstacles which face a web-based democracy exceed infrastructural inadequacy.

For every 100 citizens in either the United States or the United Kingdom, more than 80 had access to the internet in 2012, according to statistics compiled by the World Bank-yet neither of these countries have embraced remote internet voting with the same fervor seen in Northern Europe. This can easily be attributed to the possibility of voter fraud and the fear of malicious hacking (when Estonia held their first virtual election in 2007, a bot-scanner was unsuccessfully deployed by a hacker to identify possible vulnerabilities in the system before it was deflected by CERT-the Computer Emergency Response Team). Furthermore, in a geopolitical climate wherein cyber-warfare has become commonplace, virtual elections would create a new front for potential exploitation by a rival nation. Politicians often reflect the concerns of their electorate when addressing the possibility of ceding a key component of their democracy to a realm which is still seen by many as dark, duplicitous and arcane.

Perhaps it is this fundamental public distrust of the internet, no doubt exacerbated by Edward Snowden’s revelation of its abuse by an intrusive spying apparatus, as well as missteps such as the botched roll-out of the Obamacare website, which is primarily to blame for the lack of definitive action towards establishing comprehensive internet voting in countries which are theoretically capable of making that leap. It is therefore imperative that the public reclaims that trust, by reducing government control over the net (which may allow incumbents to rig polls) as well as by devoting a portion of their time to learning the ostensibly foreign language of the net. Only then will citizens realize that while cyber-voting methods have vulnerabilities, the problems they face are not new (election fraud was not invented by malicious hackers) and like their real world equivalents, they can be equipped with mechanisms which can reliably detect, reduce or eliminate breaches in the system. After all, an educated public is indispensable to the proper functioning of a democracy and if a democracy is to adopt the platform of the net, then the public must understand it-if government is to remain accountable to the people.

As more aspects of our lives, from our social interactions to our banking transactions, are integrated into a web-based environment, it is not a far cry to imagine that our electoral process may follow. However, if South Africa (as well as other nations) are to recreate Estonia’s success, we must first remedy many of the issues which have shaped the debate in this year’s elections-primarily the provision of basic infrastructure-as the voting system will predictably remain anachronistic if widespread suffering endures as a remnant of centuries of oppressive colonial and racist rule in a comparable anachronism. Expanding the reach of the net is a cause which has been adopted by tech giants like Mark Zuckerberg (through Internet.org) and if coupled with a greater understanding of the nature, potential and limitations of the internet, may well create a culture conducive to an internet-mediated democracy.

We cannot definitively know whether the polarizing political debate surrounding this issue will keep it from becoming a reality-but I wouldn’t write off the idea that one day in the not-so-distant future, citizens will have the opportunity to, in a matter of minutes, exercise the basic right of democracy from behind a PC within the comfort of their homes-if they so desire. The question is now what it always has been: what do we truly desire?

Freedom Fighter, Founding Father: A Poem in Honour of Nelson Mandela


Into An African Eternity


Ingrained within human hearts,

It seems only the mourning of dead

has secured the guarantee of perpetual life.


Yet, there is a difference in greatness

for an idea is but invincible:

No shackles too heavy,

No bars can contain its boundless hope

Mortality is but an illusion

For the body which houses

the immortal ideal.


He is not gone

but rather lingers on

In the rebellious mind,

in the revolutionary spirit, 

in the forgiving heart.

Burning down barriers,

then building bridges.

Raising clenched fists,

then embracing with open arms.


He now watches over a nation proud


united and empowered

forever grateful-

to our troublemaker,

our freedom fighter,

our founding father:

Nelson Mandela


Changing Our Attitude Towards Immigration

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” Emblazoned upon the plaque which sits at the foot of Lady Liberty, this extract from a sonnet by Emma Lazarus was an invitation to the world, embodying the beating heart of a self-identifying nation of immigrants. Fast-forward more than a century and Nina Davuluri, a woman born in the city housing the world-famous statue is crowned Miss America, leading to racist backlash from the more geographically and factually-challenged members of the social network community. Framed against the backdrop of the ongoing Immigration reform debate in both chambers of Congress, the bigoted response highlights a more disturbing trend which transcends American politics-an animosity towards immigrants which periodically emerges on our news-feeds.

Within the borders of my South African homeland, xenophobic attacks are not uncommon, coming into the national spotlight as foreign-owned shops are burnt and looted. Impregnated deep within the psyche of many, seems to be the tendency to find a scapegoat-simply because it is easier than confronting the often complex causality or difficult truths behind importunate problems. This same phenomenon is one we see too often, as the blame is shifted to immigrants on issues ranging from inflated crime rates to deflated employment prospects. The attackers house a mentality devoid of empathy, failing to see the reality that immigrants from the rest of the African continent seek refuge here not because they have nefarious plans to harm our country through criminal syndicates, but because the conditions in their own countries have often become unbearable. They look to their adopted country as a burning, undying flame of hope and we betray who we are as human beings, beyond our national identities, if we suffocate that flame.

Irrational scapegoating, in order to be effective, is coupled with a fear-mongering campaign to carve out perceived differences, portraying the immigrant as dangerous and often inferior to the local population. This campaign culminates, in extreme cases, in the establishment of viciously racist far-right parties, such as the Golden Dawn party infamous for their Neo-Nazi presence in Greek politics. By dehumanizing the immigrant, they attempt to convince the populace that their violence and mistreatment is somehow excusable. As problems compound domestically, this idea that the ‘inferior foreigners’ are at the root of problems becomes incredibly dangerous, potentially leading to tragic displays of inhumanity.

Ideologically, there is a certain irony present in anti-immigrant sentiment, especially from those within the United States, stemming from a convoluted understanding of the concept of immigration and its presence in the history of most. Almost all Americans, even the most ardent anti-immigrant members of the Tea Party, are not ancestrally indigenous to the land that is now the United States. They can live and prosper within the US often because their forefathers were given the chance to build a better life there. In reality, most of the human population, if they trace their lineage back far enough, will stumble upon an ancestor who was indeed an immigrant to the land their kindred now occupies. The opportunity they were given is the opportunity we must give to those who house those common hopes and dreams for prosperity.

Furthermore, a distorted perception of privilege exists around the immigrant population. In most instances, immigrants from under-developed countries do not step into executive corporate positions (surprise surprise) or sit dormant waiting for government benefits. They are often willing to do the menial work the local population is not and make considerable contributions to the economy in other sectors as well. By giving these workers citizenship, they can become tax-paying members of the national community and enrich the economy. Moreover, the influx brings an ethnic and cultural diversity, yet a willingness to come together around the ideals upon which a country is built (after all, they must agree with something the country is doing if they are willing to pin their hopes on migrating there).This idea, that immigrants can be an asset to a nation, is one which is seemingly unfathomable to those who contend that their presence does nothing but weigh the rest of the country down.

Therefore, the next time you find yourself on the side of anti-immigrant rhetoric, remember: If the United States had closed their borders to even the most volatile Middle East, a certain Syrian-born man wouldn’t have fallen in love with Joanne Carole Schieble on the field of a Wisconsin Campus and Schieble wouldn’t have subsequently given birth to their son-Steven Paul Jobs.