Crossing Borders

Global citizenship is a difficult topic to unpack without stepping on a few toes. Any discussion of citizenship, even a hypothetical status such as this, needs to consider that the conference of the title necessarily sets the recipient apart from others. Being a citizen of Denmark, for instance, elevates your rights in the Danish state above those who are also resident in the nation but are not afforded the same status. In this way, citizenship can be read as a process of exclusion, preferential treatment, or privilege more generally. Usually when we talk about global citizenship, especially in the context of organisations like Crossing Borders, we are advancing the idea that we are more than just individuals on islands and that instead we have connections across the world. The idea of global citizenship is meant to reinforce ideas of mutual responsibilities to people across all the Earth’s nations, and to stress the importance of being mindful of the globe as a dynamic and interrelating system rather than as a bundle of strictly delimited parts and portions. However, as is the case with much cosmopolitan thinking, global citizenship is necessarily couched in the extent to which we are privileged enough to enjoy and engage with the topic. I was on the train recently and I started to reflect that over the last year I have spent a good deal of time flitting between various global cities: London, Edinburgh, Copenhagen, New York, and Boston. I am able to skip over borders with ease and without much real concern for the implications of being part of such a broad community. One of my good friends just took up work near Toronto. At the beginning of next month I will be in London to see a friend who has moved from Houston to Madrid, and then I will be on my way home to see my mother who moved all around the world in her childhood. We all share ideas of global citizenship, and we are able to have these ideas because we have been fortunate enough to have experiences which help us to structure and develop these feelings. For many of us, we are able to think of ourselves as global citizens because from our position of good luck and great resources the idea of national borders is often little more than an inconvenience or an extended plane ride. In all of our talk of global citizenship we need to reflect on the fact that there are so many people who are left disconnected from these networks that we take for granted. Most of the time citizenship is an accident, you appear in this world and as you start crying in the hospital a peculiar legal process confers on you a status that you will likely carry for life. Global citizenship, whilst a set of conscious practices and beliefs, can similarly, at the most basic level, be understood as a happy accident. For other people it is an aspiration which requires much more effort, and might even prove impossible. There are still so many people whose lives are harshly delimited by walls and barbed wire that no amount of positive-thinking and cosmopolitan attitude will overcome. This is not meant to be a criticism of global citizenship, the idea of community and solidarity across the globe is beautiful and should be treasured. Instead, I only worry that sometimes we can get so caught up in all this talk of oneness that we forget the people who are so frequently left out through no fault of their own. by Simon Fern

Silence before the storm? Every day we are bombarded with videos of floods, forest fires, and hurricanes. The newest IPCC Report (2018) warns us about the devastating impact of global warming of only 1.5°C on the weather, ecosystems, arctic ice, food production, human health, tourism, etc. (1). And even during our “Netflix and Chill”-Sessions on the sofa documentaries like A Plastic Ocean and Before the Flood hit you. While every possible alarm bell around us seems to be ringing, life around us appears strangely silent. Apart from a very un-Danish, though admittedly enjoyable warm summer for most people nothing is interrupting the business as usual. In other words: while scientific evidence documenting the urgent need to mitigate anthropogenic climate change is clear (1), social science data is also clear: around the world, the concern about climate change is not proportional to the pending risks we are facing (2). But not in Denmark, right? After all, this is considered to be one of the most eco-friendly countries in the world with its high reliance on renewable energy and cycling. Also, when asked  “How much do you know about global warming or climate change?”, 90% of Danes claim to know “a great deal” about global warming (3). So why is it then that Danes have one of the highest ecological footprints in the world according to WWF’s Living Planet Report (4)? These contradictions reveal that the transition from knowledge to action is far from straight-forward. Social scientists are only beginning to understand the fundamental role of human cognition and emotions in initiating climate action. Yet, many educational approaches continue to be based on the information deficit theory of risk communication, which posits that providing people with facts about the reality, causes, and risks of climate change should motivate them to take appropriate action (5). In this article, we present you with an alternative approach that we take at Crossing Borders. Crossing Borders collaborating with local schools at the Peoples Meeting in Bornholm 2018. The speaker is from a partner organization in Uganda, Open Spaces. Wakibu Bunya talks to local Danish students on “broadening the space and opportunities for young people to unlock their full potential through debate and local action.” Why we need an alternative approach – a practical example             Imagine for a moment that you are traveling back in time and you find yourself to be a student again. It is 11 am, you are discussing the threats of deforestation of the Amazon for endangered species and indigenous peoples in your biology class. After class, you go for lunch with your classmates. You are just about to pay for your ham and cheese sandwich when one of your best friends asks the cashier whether they are also offering vegetarian options. Surprised, you ask him what that was about. He invites you for a vegetarian dinner at his place in the evening to talk about it. Let’s assume you decide to become vegetarian, what motivated you more: your biology class or your friend? From a teacher’s perspective, one may argue that this is an unfair comparison. But there may be some takeaways for teaching about Climate Change in general if we look at the underlying reasons why your friend is more likely to change your behavior: Even the most educated and intelligent humans have difficulties to grasp complex realities such as our impact on the “far-away” Amazon rainforest. Information often needs to be coupled with an emotional response in order to motivate behavioral change. Humans are social beings: we are more likely to act if we feel that this is the norm among people around us or, more importantly, people we can identify with. These insights are the ones Crossing Borders builds on in the design of the workshops we offer to Danish high schools. The “Crossing Borders” Approach A typical Crossing Borders workshop is facilitated by 4-5 young facilitators from around the globe. This reflects our first core value: Diversity. We do not only aim to create a world where diversity is celebrated but also believe that our inner set-up is the first place to put this into practice. This is why our staff come from different backgrounds, ages, academic and countries of origin. All our workshops are given in English to train young people in being able to communicate and interact with others around the globe. Our second core value is Inclusion. Before diving into substantial information we do our best to break down borders between us and the participants. While icebreakers are still often misjudged as childish games they are gaining increasing recognition in organizational settings and adult education (6). These interactive methods encourage participation by all, a sense of unity with common goal. Further, they serve to maintain the learners’ interest and foster a safe learning environment. These outcomes are important in achieving a socially inclusive learning and working environment that allows everyone to learn and develop on their own terms. Every workshop is started with a short introduction to our team as well as the topic of the day. With authenticity as our third core value, Crossing Borders doesn’t tell the story of a person. Rather, our aim is to create the space for one person’s voice to be heard and for a story to become a dialogue. Following the motto “Don’t be the voice for the voiceless, pass the mic”, this means involving people who are passionate about the topic of climate change themselves instead of merely giving a presentation about climate change. Our experience has shown that enthusiastic facilitators easily spark curiosity, engage participation and kickstart the students’ motivation to learn. However, authenticity also means being honest. Although each of us is, in their own ways, setting important steps towards sustainability, none of us is perfect. So rather than preaching what we cannot practice ourselves, we share our knowledge on good practices but also on our struggles. By facilitating personal identification we aim to make broad and abstract topics graspable for students. Insert

Today I’d like to discuss a topic close to my heart. To be a truly quintessential ‘Maya’ topic, its gotta be cross-cultural, it’s gonna involve the US and Denmark, and its gotta have something to do with urban space. I’m currently finishing up my Bachelor’s degree in International Studies, but from the very beginning, I’ve always been fascinated by the nexus of space and society. How do people use space? What does space mean to us, culturally speaking? How can transformations and changes to urban environments do harm or good to neighborhoods and communities? Today I’d like to look at the notion of difference in public spaces across two places: Copenhagen, Denmark, and West Palm Beach, South Florida, USA. Bonds between community members exist in Denmark, and so does trust in the welfare system being effective and productive in taking care of its citizens. If I leave my bag in a cafe, I am certain that I will find it there again. If I am walking home alone at 4am in Copenhagen, I continuously feel safe. I am alert and aware, but I am not inherently skeptical of every passer-by. In Florida on the other hand, the context it different. Trust is fewer and far between in many different aspects. This is true (in my experiences) on a meta-societal level, as well as a day-to-day level. The country is divided. This state of political turmoil is not new, but since the last election, the things we have previously been able to sit comfortably on have been brought to the surface of our discourse, and it’s been quite ugly. People don’t trust the current administration (justifiably). People don’t trust the system in general. Why would we pay higher taxes and invest in a social system when we don’t know for certain that the government will invest that money back into the people? Trust simply isn’t there. This also goes for the way in which we use space. As mentioned earlier, consumption spaces often function as social spaces. The urban environment has been engineered in a way that revolves around a consumer-oriented society. Malls are frequent hang-out spots for people of all ages. In downtown West Palm Beach, the number one thing to do is go to the beach or head to CityPlace, which is a projection of affluent (white) liberal conceptualizations of a new urban downtown. It promotes an upscale lifestyle; it is a post-modern construction of a Southern European architectural style dawned with tanned-brick and palm-tree clad corridors aligned with boutiques and consumption spaces. While not inherently ‘evil’, the problem with this, is that it promotes the notion that social bonding and consumption go hand in hand. It is hard to find activities to do in that part of South Florida that are truly public, social activities engineered for the people. Spaces like CityPlace are privatized. As users of space, we are also consumers. If we don’t fit into the perceived idea of who a consumer is, then we are loiterers. We are rejected from these spaces and subsequently from that micro-society. This only further divides us. In order to mend these smaller divides, and thus larger divides, we need to start with cities and spaces that are built for all peoples, and not for profit. By Maya Schwartz

One of the Denmark team’s participant Yuki Yasumiba shares her experience about “Do it Online”- Erasmus+ Youth Exchange Project in Samobor, Croatia In the beginning of this month, I participated Erasmus Youth Exchange program in Samobor, Croatia. It was a 9-days program with a lot of diverse people from UK, Lithuania, Czech Republic and Turkey. The theme this time was “Do it Online”, aiming to develop digital citizenship among youth.Through the project, we discussed about active citizenship, what is “civic engagement” and “civic participation” and how could we utilize digital tools to promote that. Once each national team shared each country’s cases of digital civic participation and engagement and it was quite interesting for me to learn about it. Each country had a different case but especially the case in Turkey was a bit shocking for me because when it comes to “freedom of speech”, it is completely different from our situation. Besides serious stuffs, we also had “culture night”, a night each national team introduce their culture. We learnt some cultural dance from Turkey, curious tradition in Czech and more! We, Danish team also hosted one night and we danced boogie-woogie and read one famous fairytale writer, Hans Christian Andersen’s short story. Of course, we ate some cultural snacks and drinks (woo-hoo). On the last day, we held open-dancing event in the middle of Samobor as a culmination! Our idea was sharing “happiness” through dancing because we sometimes focuses on cyber world too much and forget to live in our moments. To host the event, we also used some digital tools. We created event-page on Facebook, shared information through Instagram, Twitter and so on. I tried video-making for the first time and it was great experience for me to try something new. At the event, everyone danced on the stage in the town center and some tourists or local people joined dancing, We also distributed heart shaped paper with some quotes about happiness. It was very pleasant to see people smiling through dancing and papers. At last, the best thing I got through projects was “friends” from all over the world. You know, if you have someone you want to cherish around the world then, the world becomes more peaceful and beautiful. I am so convinced that we will see each other again. Thank you so much everyone who I met through this project and see you again. By Yuki Yasumiba For more information on Erasmus+ visit: https://www.erasmusplus.org.uk/ And keep an eye out for future opportunities to participate through Erasmus+ with Crossing Borders!

Over the past two months I have been visiting communities that are providing support to people who are facing difficulties because of their immigration status. Most of the time this has meant sheltering people from being located or detained by the federal police, and at other times this has meant providing material assistance to people who might need support in terms of resources or finances because of situations directly related to their immigration status. Some communities have been very open about their actions whilst others have decided to avoid publicity and go about their work quietly. Some communities engage directly with politics on either a local or national level, but other groups have decided to move away from traditional political involvement. Likewise, some people who are facing persecution, criminalisation, or deportation have decided to be ‘out’ about their immigration status to call attention to the issue, whilst others have decided they would prefer to keep to themselves. On one hand, there is an argument that being visible means being able to offer a platform on which change can be built. This has meant that some communities decide to come forward with their difficulties and attempt to gain visibility in the hope that being ‘out’ might mean better opportunities to receive assistance or further the cause. On the other hand, some communities prefer to remain less visible about their situation because they feel that being noticed is very much related to being targeted and being put in a position of unsafety. They might also question whether visibility has any realistic benefits beyond rhetoric. Similar situations play out across communities that have a history of persecution – in LGBT+ circles there remains a huge debate over the idea of being ‘out’ about one’s sexuality or gender identity. Some people argue that being visible is a way to instigate social change and promote pride, but others might feel uncomfortable sharing something that might attract negative attention. There is no one ‘right’ answer to these questions, and it is important to recognise that intersecting contexts, personal decisions, and beliefs characterise and inform the decisions that surround visibility in any circumstance. On the topic of political engagement, it needs to be recognised that being involved in traditional democratic processes is exhausting, overwhelming, and at times entirely dangerous for certain groups. There is a presumptuous and privileged idea that changing the world is as simple as walking to the polling station and casting a vote, when the very attempt to participate can bring all manner of difficulties. This does not mean that people who choose to participate are any better than those who decide not to, or who might be unable to participate altogether. Whilst crossing borders is important, it is a decision that people must be able to make freely and as a reflection of their position in life and their personal experiences. Any movement which focuses on preaching a single ‘right’ way of being risks alienating and excluding huge numbers of people. By Simon Fern Image: JMW Turner, Bell Rock Lighthouse

I’m sitting in the Crossing Borders’ empty office on a foggy November morning, thinking about what to write the next blog post about. My mind is blank, the bleary greyness is seemingly all-consuming, I’ve exhausted all my ideas. Then I go to put some music on. I remember that around this time last year I began to listen to Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker. I can’t bring myself to listen to actually Christmas music as I did grow up in a fairly Jewish environment and Christmas music just doesn’t do the same thing for me as it might for my fellow Christians. The Nutcracker, however, represents a universal, secular, bridge to cheerful holiday music. Perfect for this bleak November Morning. I begin to play the composition titled ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy’. It starts slow, with a faint dinging of bells that creeps louder and louder at the music begins to take off. I’m suddenly reminded of something as the bells resonate louder, I remember the choreography that is synonymous with those dings. I was a dancer. I was serious about it and I almost wanted to go professional for a while. In a ballet class nearly 6 or 7 years ago, around Christmas time, my ballet teacher taught us a variation from the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy just for fun. We were preparing for our own production of the Nutcracker, I was cast as a flower in ‘Waltz of the Flowers’ and a snowflake in ‘Waltz of the Snowflakes’. But just for fun, our teacher taught us the choreography to the solo number that would be performed by whoever was cast as the Sugar Plum Fairy. The thing about ballet is that it really is much more complex than people seem to think. I think people are generally aware that a ballerina’s feet are compromised for the beauty of the spectacle, bleeding blisters and calluses are an everyday occurrence. But it is more than the physical features of a dancer that need to be hardened. Ballet represents a crossing of mental borders. It will change you if you work hard enough. It teaches you discipline, control, balance, perseverance, how to take criticism, to let your actions speak for themselves (be humble; there’s always room for improvement), that hard work should be embraced with a smile (dealing with pain makes you stronger), and that no individual is greater than the team. I carry these lessons with me, even as I am no longer dancing. I still remember the graceful piqué (see the photo above with the green tutu) that one does as the opening move to the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, just as I still remember that the feeling of sore muscles the day after a tough practice was a good thing, as it meant you were getting stronger. These lessons were slowly drilled into my head and all of the heads of my fellow students, making us more mature, reflective, and conscious of our actions both in and outside the dance studio. These lessons allowed us to cross the border from adolescence to adulthood with both strength and grace. By Maya Schwartz

Exhaustion, stiff muscles, stuffy air, too many people, bumbling bags, harsh fluorescent lighting, and lines. So many lines. These elements are not necessarily unexpected when partaking on a transatlantic flight, but they certainly don’t make the process of getting through customs and border control easier. In Fort Lauderdale, we were taken off the plane and placed directly into shuttle buses. The airport is huge, apparently too large to let us disembark directly to the immigration area. So, we are shuttled to that section. Every person accounted for, cramped onto these busses, surrounded by tall sand-colored walls that promote a superficial sense of welcoming with engraved smiling lizards and sea turtles, which supposedly represent Florida. In Helsinki, I was told, “when in Rome, do as the Romans do”. This was in reference to me being in the wrong line. I looked steadily at the two options. ‘EU Passport Holders’ here, and ‘All Passports’ there. I was traveling to the US, and I was concerned that if I showed my EU passport, then they’d wonder where my visa to the US was, and if I showed my US passport then they would wonder where my entry stamp into the EU was. Typically, I go in the shortest line and explain my situation to the officer, but there were no lines here, so I had to choose. I chose wrong, apparently. The Finnish customs agent looked at the American passport I handed to him, then glanced over to the matte red book in my hand. He turned to me and told me to do as the Romans do. As I was still in the EU, I didn’t even need to show my American passport until I had crossed that border. He let me through after nonchalantly flipping through my Danish passport, barely even glancing at its contents. He essentially encouraged me to use my dual citizenship to its fullest extent, embracing the utter privilege I had access to. In New York, we were separated. I was traveling with a friend, a non-US citizen. I wanted to wait in the same line as her, but that apparently was not allowed. I was instructed to head over to the US citizens line, which was in fact much shorter and easier than the other line. But the fact remains that we couldn’t wait together. Breezing through customs and border control is a privilege. It’s often not even available to those who hold the right passport in their given destination. But when the right conditions align: short lines, straightforward facilities, well-designed airport layout, often only those with the right passport can access that privilege. In the age of increased commodification and the globalization of experiences, it is passports that grant you access to free movement and the privilege of feeling welcomed in a place you do not call home. Passports are the new nobility. They serve as determinants of access; one is born into a role which identifies where they can go and what places they can enjoy. It is a new world order constituted of borders. By Maya Schwartz