When the Russian Revolution broke out in 1917, my great-grandfather had to leave.
At the time, he lived in Odessa and oversaw an Imperial orchard. He was part of the Black Sea German community that left their German homelands in the 18th and 19th centuries and settled along the Black Sea Coast, in what is now Ukraine. As a German, and someone who worked for the Czar, my great-grandfather had to find a safe home for his family when fighting began.
My grandfather, who was a child at the time, never spoke much about life in the Russian Empire when the revolution started. His family packed everything they could and fled, first to the U.S. eventually travelling by train to the Dakotas. There, they made a decision to go on to Canada. My great-grandfather travelled north, arriving at the train station at Bow Island, west of Medicine Hat, and walked to what would become his homestead. Meanwhile, the rest of the family stayed behind waiting for him to come back so they could join him. I don’t know all the specifics, but they were fleeced of all their money and when my great-grandfather returned, he took his family, now virtually penniless, to their new home: a farm on barren prairie in the deep south of Alberta.
The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines a refugee as “a person who flees to a foreign country or power to escape danger or persecution.”
No one in my family ever referred to my grandfather or his family as refugees, like so many others they were immigrants. I never considered whether they were anything more, refugees, until very recently. My grandfather’s family story is the same as so many others, who came to Canada searching for a better life.
It makes me think about the current international refugee crisis.
According to the United Nations, there are 65.3 million forcibly displaced people in the world, including 21.3 million refugees. 4.9 million are from Syria.
I am immensely proud of Canada’s commitment to Syrian refugees. They are fleeing a horrendous civil war and a brutal dictator. It is our duty to give refuge to people looking for safe harbour for themselves and their families.
It wasn’t always this way. The SS St. Louis, filled with 937 Jewish refugees fleeing the Nazis, was turned away from Canada’s shores in 1939. It was refused entry to Canada, the U.S. and Cuba. The ship, and those on it, returned to Antwerp. Historians estimate as many as one quarter ended up being killed. It’s an infamous moment in Canadian history. A senior official asked at the time, how many Jewish refugees Canada should take, responded with the words: “none is too many.”
We need to remember this as U.S. President Donald Trump recently signed an executive order stopping all refugees – all refugees – for 120 days. He also imposed a 90-day ban on immigration from Iran, Iraq, Somalia, Sudan, Libya, Yemen and Syria. His administration has been citing security to ensure terrorists don’t enter the U.S.
It is possible to have security while maintaining our basic humanity. We can’t let fear prevent us from doing what should be our responsibility: to help others in need.
The U.S. and Canada opened their borders to my grandfather and his family. They, like so many others seeking a home to live in peace, were welcomed by The Statue of Liberty as he arrived on America’s shores on his way to Canada. We should always honour and remember the spirit and immortal words emblazoned on and embodied by Lady Liberty: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”
