it was a sunday night
by Fernand Melgar, director, March 2007.
"On the 24th of September 2006, the results were clear: a large majority of the Swiss population had said yes to « lex blocher » and voted for a tightening of immigration laws. The local news caster summed-up the main changes to come: beneficiaries of political asylum would be deprived of social aid, those who wished to stay would face up to two years in prison as of the age of 15. More over, anyone asking for political asylum without the proper identification would be turned away within 48 hours; searches without warrants, even in private homes; anyone aiding or abetting asylum seekers would risk up to one year in prison; no more C permits ( establishment permits) which had until now been automatic for foreigners having lived in Switzerland for more than ten years; restrictions on family reunification (guaranteed by the European human rights convention) and on marriages between Swiss nationals and foreigners.
The outcome of this vote was not surprising. However, the number of voters that said yes (68%) and the territorial unanimity deeply shocked me. Especially in a country where one out of five people is a foreigner and where requests for asylum had not been as low in 20 years. The right savoured its victory after having led a xenophobic campaign where incidences were blown out proportion, fuelling fear of foreigners from outside the European union which Switzerland still has not adhered to and which a portion of the Swiss population still view with scepticism. The voice for the right Christophe Blocher, declared: “The number of problems created by foreigners are far from being resolved. We now have to put an end to the constant violation of our cultural and social rules as well as our fundamental democratic and Christian values by foreigners who refuse to integrate.” Also to reveal his party’s future plans : forced integration, citizenship with a mandatory trial period, expulsion of entire families when one member commits a crime, marginalization of Islam, questioning of the new anti racism law as a breach of freedom of expression, etc.
I felt sick to my stomach that night. I felt anxious and worried, a painful childhood memory came back to me. It was at the beginning of the 70’s, a Sunday night I must have been about ten years old, we were watching the nightly news anxiously. We were a family of Spanish immigrants living in the working class suburb of Lausanne. My father first came to Switzerland as a seasonal worker in 1962. He was one of the many cheap labourers from southern Europe that were in such high demand in Switzerland after the war. Tens of thousands of workers lived crammed into poor housing facilities. These workers were giving the worst jobs for the worst pay. They were at the mercy of their employers who could renew their contracts or not and of the police in charge of foreigners that terrorised them.
My father could not bear being without his family. One day, about a year after his arrival he smuggled us into the country. My mother soon found work while my sister and I were hold-up at home all day like many seasonal workers’ children. Each time the doorbell rang we would hide under the bed. In the end things worked out: my parents obtained a permit and we were allowed to go to school.
That Sunday the Swiss population voted. An initiative “against foreign influence” launched by the national councillor James Schwarzenbach aimed at reducing the number of foreign workers. Passionate debates took place throughout the country. The left had protested and especially the liberal right who judged this to be economic suicide: these cheap labours were still necessary in too many fields such as the hotel industry, construction and agriculture. My parents were sure that we would be expelled. Neighbours had put a cardboard suitcase behind our door. In the school yard my Swiss classmates made fun of me: “Finally all you foreigners are going back where you belong, home!”
The people had rejected the Schwarzenbach initiative by a small margin but my father said: “One day, they will vote yes. There is no future for us here.” This initiative left a deep scar for a whole generation of immigrants. Like many of their peers, my parents lived from that moment on with the fear of being thrown out one day. In 1989 after 27 years spent in Switzerland, my parents returned to Spain. My sister and I stayed.
When my children were born, I started a complicated naturalization procedure that lasted three years. My father felt betrayed when I showed him my new passport emblazoned with the white cross. I found his reaction silly: I spent the majority of my life in Switzerland and I started my family here. I wanted to be a full citizen, give my children the possibility of establishing roots and finally be able to vote.
On the night of September 26th 2006, I understood that what my father had said was true: the Swiss had finally voted yes. I had an enormous sense of deception and shame towards my country of adoption. Having been recently naturalized, I couldn’t identify with this decision. I thought about what my parents had been through and what I had been through as a foreigner. That night, a piece of me was denied. What does this reaction and rejection of anything foreign that we cultivate in this country mean? Are the Swiss a xenophobic people? Or is this rejection due to the lack of national identity, a unifying force in a Switzerland that might collapse, at the heart of a threatening Europe and a threatening world?
Stemming from Switzerland’s neutrality, the right to seek asylum is a key factor in Switzerland’s humanitarian tradition. This country of human rights and great humanitarian institutions has always been a privileged destination for refugees of all origins, religions and political views. The Geneva Convention is at the heart of Switzerland’s asylum policy. It states that no one can be turned away when their life or their freedom is threatened and if they risk torture or humiliation in their home country.
The recent adoption by the Swiss people of one of the most restrictive legislations seems to have put an end to this long humanitarian tradition. This new law is used as a reference by the European extreme right: Le Pen stated that “The new Swiss laws are close to what the Front National would like to see in France.” And the Austrian extreme right integrated this in its campaign before the legislative elections. We have regressed from being a humanitarian Noah’s Ark to the darker days of World War 2 when the federal councillor Eduard Von Steiger justified the explosion of Jews by stating: “ Das Boot ist voll” (The boat is full).
In this version of the asylum laws and the laws on foreigners, the migrant is seen first as a threat, a trouble maker and a profiteer that one should be weary of. We put up barriers that ban all forms of immigration that does not come from the European Union (This excludes almost 95% of the planet’s population!) by making access to asylum elusive. If by chance a foreigner does make it through our borders, no matter his or her status, we make them feel like second class citizens.
I wanted to understand what fuels this fear and pushes us to lock our doors and turn this land of asylum into an impenetrable fortress. I decided to focus on a highly strategic place: A centre for the registration of foreigners (Centre d’enregistrement et procédures, CEP). This is where the refuges future plays itself out. This is where the decision on who stays and who has to go is taken. After two interviews the future of the asylum seeker is determined. Among the five CEP’s in Switzerland, I chose the one in the French speaking part, in Vallorbe, a small city of 3000 inhabitants in the Jura."
