To Dream Beyond the Barbed Wire

Building a City of Hope

The daily news cycle is full of the stories of migrants crossing our southern border. We’re constantly reminded of their struggles as they seek a better future. From the comfort of our homes, we watch on our TV screens the scenes of despair—migrants trapped behind barbed wire, their faces etched with hope for a new future and the suffering from which they emerged. It’s impossible to look at these images and not feel a deep desire to act compassionately, a sentiment rooted in both religious teachings and the innate human yearning for kindness.

As expressed in Matthew 25:35-40:

For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me. Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you as a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?' And the Lord answered them, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.'

Not that I’m a religious person, but I get the symbolism. The Lord dwells within each of us, and to feed, clothe and house a stranger is the same as providing for the Lord Himself.

Yet, we struggle. Amidst our own financial uncertainties, a sense of self-preservation hardens our hearts. This conflict between compassion and self-interest is a natural human response, especially in a society where resources are increasingly scarce and competition is fierce.

Our current strategy, it seems, is to bus these desperate souls to distant cities, perhaps to give someone else an opportunity to practice the writings of Matthew. But alas, those people in distant cities struggle with their own financial uncertainties, and their hearts quickly harden.

This strategy fails on two levels. Not only do those folks in distant cities harden their hearts, but the migrants themselves are never presented with an honest opportunity to earn their way in our society. They came here seeking the American dream, and instead they were bussed to the American nightmare. Opportunities are lost everywhere. It becomes a colossal waste of taxpayer money and does little but make the problem worse. Most recently, we hear of school children in New York City being unable to attend their schools and having to fall back on remote learning, because the schools are occupied by migrants in need of shelter.

It’s clear that our federal government is unprepared for this sustained influx of migration, and instead of offering help from the federal level, they kick the can down the road, leaving it to cities and states to figure out their own solutions.

So, what is the answer? How should a compassionate nation respond?

One obvious solution is to forsake compassion altogether by turning away migrants who attempt to cross the border. Erect an impenetrable wall, locking out the desperate families seeking a better life. I am certain, however, that this solution is not sustainable. It not only challenges our moral beliefs, but it becomes impractical to enforce. A $99 ladder from a local hardware store can easily breach a billion dollar wall. Already, some migrants have cut holes in the current border wall with Mexico and stepped through with impunity. I can’t say I blame them; if I were fighting for my family, a simple border wall is not going to stop me.

Thinking outside the box and sticking my neck out more than just a little bit, I propose a solution that may be fraught with complexities, but in the long run, it will solve many of the problems with illegal migration. It will solve the problem on both moral and logistical planes, costing us far less in the long run. It relies on working with the issue not as a burden but as a potential.

We allow the migrants and refugees to build their own city.

Imagine a city created by its own inhabitants. A city built in on government land that functions autonomously. A city that becomes a model for other similar cities that can be built around the world, each of which houses migrants and refugees, where each resident contributes to the well-being of its society.

In this city, skilled doctors, once tending wounds in war-torn fields, take up scalpels in clinics built to the best medical standards, healing not just bodies but hope. Architects and engineers, their blueprints weathered by exile, design and build apartment buildings, not cages, but homes echoing with love and a true sense of belonging for its inhabitants. Bricklayers, calloused hands once laying the foundations of shattered lives, now raising walls of hope, brick by brick.

The residents of this city would not necessarily be permanent; as their children attend school and they work on their careers, they can apply for asylum in other countries. When asylum is granted, they will enter the country of their choice already prosperous in mind and spirit, and ready to meet the expectations of their adopted country.

Such a city functions on a social contract documented in a charter sanctioned by the UN or other international governing body. It would be a contract of human dignity. Employment, healthcare, housing - not entitlements, but cornerstones of a self-sufficient society. Schools would be erected to educate the young and retrain the adults, staffed with teachers drawn from the pool of incoming migrants and refugees. Police, firemen and other essential services of any city would be drawn from that incoming pool.

It’s true that outside aid will be needed to start such an ambitious project. Money could be found from a pool of cooperating countries who seek to solve their own migrant crises in a way that doesn’t threaten the fabric of their communities while still granting dignity and respect to the migrants and refugees seeking a better life. Essentially, the raw materials to construct such a city is all that the world needs to provide, and leave it to the incoming refugees and migrants to organize themselves and build their own city.

Yes, there will also be a need for city planners who may be drawn from people outside the pool of incoming migrants and refugees. City planning would also require an outside source of water and power as well as a way to handle trash and sewage. These are familiar services that every city in the world is familiar with, so the expertise for constructing such projects is plentiful. Eventually the city would be able to take over many of these services and act with increasing autonomy. Essentially, the world would provide a bridge of support until the city finds its own feet. Like seedlings reaching for sunlight, these communities will blossom with international cooperation, a consortium of like-minded nations recognizing the universality of this human journey. Perhaps not a global chorus, but a potent quartet, weaving harmony from their combined resources and vision.

This city won't be a Utopian ideal, but a crucible of human potential. Mistakes will be made, challenges faced, but within its walls will echo the indomitable spirit of those who refused to let circumstance dictate their destiny. They will build, they will heal, they will create, not just for themselves, but for the desperate souls that enter the city after them, looking for a second chance in life.

I’m also mindful of the fact that building a city is not a trivial process. Even though virtually all the labor will be provided by the residents themselves, the initial cost would be enormous. Consider, however, that the cost burden would not fall exclusively on one nation. A border town with Mexico, for example, would draw upon resources from both countries. The United Nations could also get involved by helping to recruit other nations to “chip in” and help fund the experiment. The payoff would be a great reduction - if not total elimination - of migrant crises worldwide. The city would be able to absorb migrants and refugees over a long period of time, amortizing the cost over many years instead of months. Additionally, if the city proves viable, the rest of the world could follow the example, realizing an economy of scale as more such cities are constructed.

Think not of this as a radical experiment, but a return to our shared humanity. As I pointed out, migration is not a recent plague, but a constant in our history, an endless story of displacement. From the nomads seeking greener pastures to the refugees fleeing war-torn lands, mankind has always grappled with the ebb and flow of humanity.

It's time we stopped building walls and started raising homes. It's time we saw not burdens, but potential partners in this great human experience. Let us, together, not just manage migration, but harness its energy, create not temporary shelters, but cities of hope, testaments to the enduring spirit that whispers, "Beyond barbed wire, a city awaits."

This is a call to action, not just for politicians and policymakers, but for all of us. Let us embrace the vision of a self-sufficient migrant city, not as a distant utopia, but as a potential seed we can all help plant. Share this story, ignite the conversation, and who knows, somewhere beyond the razor-wire fences, a city of hope might just blossom.