The flickering glow of news reports casts a familiar, chilling tableau: a silent, huddled fear within the anodyne walls of a hotel, juxtaposed against the visceral, guttural roars of a crowd outside. Asylum seekers, innocent and vulnerable, ghosts in their own temporary lodging, watch as the public eye, through the unforgiving lens of a camera, captures the aggressive polemic directed at them. The chants are loud, the placards accusatory, the message unambiguous: they are not welcome. The stated grievances are plain, projected through shouted slogans and angry denunciations: these newcomers, these strangers, will be a drain on the public purse, a usurper of state benefits, an undeserving recipient of state-funded housing.
Yet, in their very act of stated indignation, in their fervent claimed protection of a collective resource they say is theirs, these protestors inadvertently turn the spotlight on themselves. It is a curious spectacle of self-indictment, a performance where the accusers unwittingly reveal their own questionable credentials. The cameras, dispassionate and relentless, do not just capture the fear of the hidden, but linger on the faces of the hostile. And there, a different narrative begins to unfold.
Observe the peripatetic nature of these protests. They are not confined to lunch breaks or evening hours, but span the entire diurnal cycle, a testament to a striking abundance of ‘spare time’. One cannot help but wonder about the wellspring of such leisure. While a number of ‘professional connoisseurs,’ their physical profiles eloquently speaking of sustained dedication to certain forms of public house patronage, might be readily identifiable, a significant portion of the crowd defies easy categorisation. Many seem not to be gainfully employed, their endless hours of protest standing in stark contrast to the work ethic they implicitly demand of others.
It is this group, in particular, whose status comes into sharp, uncomfortable focus. The loutish behaviour, the inarticulate rage, the blatant lack of self-control, the flashes of nascent violence – these are not the hallmarks of a citizenry diligently contributing to the public coffers they claim to defend. Indeed, questions about their own employability abound, as one is left to ponder the profound dissonance between the protestors’ stated aim of protecting public funds and the visible evidence of their own potential reliance upon them.
Perhaps, if the sincerity of their fiscal concerns is indeed paramount, a period of introspective reflection might serve them well. If the protection of the public purse is truly their sincere aim, then perhaps those who are in receipt of public funds – whether through unemployment benefits, housing assistance, or other forms of state support – might consider a revision of their protest schedule. Limiting their demonstrations to non-‘office hours’ would free up valuable time during which to seek gainful employment, thereby transitioning from potential recipients to active contributors to the very public purse they claim to safeguard. And, most pointedly, perhaps those whose own accommodation is paid for by housing benefits should cease their hostility towards others seeking the same fundamental human dignity of shelter.
The irony, sharp and undeniable, cuts deep. The venom directed at those seeking refuge, at those who possess nothing but hope and fear, recoils upon its senders. What begins as a polemic against perceived freeloaders ends as a disconcerting examination of the accusers themselves. In their loud demands for accountability, they inadvertently expose their own vulnerabilities, their own potential hypocrisy, and thereby reveal a truth far more complex and uncomfortable than any placard could convey. The spotlight, once aimed outwards, has been inadvertently, brutally, turned back on them.
Worldwide Temple of Aurora 