When you walk down a street in a regional town, the odds are that many of the people you pass are descendants of people who, at some point in the distant or near past, have come from abroad in search of a better life. It’s easy to lose sight of where we have come from and the contributions made by newcomers that have helped the community get to where it is today. Local identity is also shaped by indigenous populations who should be recognised and included in community planning.
Towns that keep sight of where they have come from and value the contributions of past migrants find it easier to welcome other newcomers.
In 2016, when the town of Missoula, USA first started thinking about resettling African refugees some locals were apprehensive about how they would fit in. It seemed a radical idea for the town. Located in central Montana, most newcomers in recent years were students from other parts of the USA. There was also some concern within the indigenous community. The region’s history of dispossession, dislocation and removal of land from Native American people meant that there was resistance to allowing outsiders into their community. Community leaders were vital in responding to these concerns and appealing to Missoulians’ shared identity as a tolerant and unified place.
Some Native American community leaders spoke out vocally in support of bringing the refugees, encouraging others to think about their shared human values. Mayor John Engen took every opportunity to remind locals that it was only 40 years ago that over 350 Hmong refugees were resettled in Missoula from Laos. “There will come a time when Missoulians won’t remember when Congolese tradition wasn’t part of the Missoula tradition in the same way today that we really don’t remember when Lao tradition wasn’t part of who we are. The grandchildren of those refugees are now represented at the Missoula Farmers Markets, where their produce is renowned, and their contribution to the community is widely recognised and celebrated.” Mayor John Engen.
Any newcomer attraction strategy needs to start with recognition and acceptance of the need for change and engage all levels of government, community leaders, business and civil society to make it work.
In this video, locals from Nordland County, north of the arctic circle in Norway, discuss what it takes to plan a newcomer attraction strategy.
It’s been four months since I returned from my Churchill Fellowship research and I’m excited to have already had several opportunities to share my learnings with regional Australian towns and government policy makers.
Last week I made a submission to the Australian Government Joint Standing Committee on Migration’s inquiry into migration in regional Australia. With mounting interest in regional population planning across government and community, this is a timely inquiry which will hopefully result in a more coordinated approach to newcomer attraction and retention. My submission makes 7 policy recommendations based on my findings:
Involve people from migrant and refugee backgrounds in all elements of attraction and retention initiatives and policy making.
Implement place-based approaches which involve all levels of government, community and business. Doing so could break down information and program silos, thereby enhancing efficiency and potential resource and knowledge sharing.
Invest in social capital building and creating connections between newcomers and community members.
Build the capacity of mainstream services and programs to meet the specific needs of people from migrant and refugee backgrounds.
Develop a more strategic approach to engaging with migrants and refugees in cities to actively market regional employment and lifestyle opportunities.
Help regional employers to recruit, develop and retain a culturally diverse workforce.
Demonstrate leadership by communicating the benefits of immigration and contribution migrants and refugees make to society. Investing in community consensus building and preparedness is a key determinant of newcomer retention.
Regional Australia has critical skills shortages and positions that cannot be filled locally. It needs migrants to build the local workforce, support entrepreneurship and contribute to local communities. However, over the past five years only 15% of refugees in Australia have settled in regional areas. At the same time, moved by media images of the global humanitarian crisis, more and more Australians in regional areas have put their hand up to bring refugees to their town. Recent policy decisions in Australia and overseas have emphasised visa incentives which force migrants to remain in regional towns for fixed periods of time only to see them move away when the time is up. Regional communities need to focus on how they can make themselves attractive to migrants and refugees so that people come and then choose to stay. At the heart of this is building a welcoming community where people feel valued and like they belong.
My research explored the role that secondary migration can play in reinvigorating towns. Secondary migration is when migrants or refugees choose to relocate from their initial destination to a new location. It involves challenging misconceptions amongst refugees in cities of what it’s like to live in a regional town. It takes careful planning and coordination to find the right match between the skills, characteristics and motivations of refugees and the social and economic objectives of the town.
In places I visited, I saw how important it is to take the time to build community consensus on the need for migration. Reframing the image of refugees as people in need of help, to people who can contribute the skills, workforce and qualities that are desperately needed by the town, helps build support.
There is no quick and easy solution to attracting and retaining newcomers. However, finding ways to engage and coordinate all levels of government, community leaders, business and civil society is important to maximise efforts and develop new approaches.
These findings will be illustrated in more detail in my report which is due to be launched in November. It will be available for download on this website.
Each of these photos represents a person with skills, talents, obstacles and dreams just like everyone else. That’s the way Åre municipality views refugees coming to their region. “We refer to everyone as newcomers. These people have been through so much as refugees before they get here so once they arrive, they are no longer a refugee and their next chapter begins”, Mattias Sjölundh the head of Åre Kommun’s Newcomer Service told me.
Åre Kommun (Municipal Government),
in charge of providing on arrival settlement services, uses this board to track
each person’s journey for the first couple of years after arriving in the
region. People move between different categories which include the orientation
program, Swedish classes, education and training courses, and employment in
different companies. Vacant jobs are listed in the right column as they arise to
help match potential employees.
It’s a simple yet effective technique which allows staff to retain an individual focus and make sure no-one slips through the cracks. That’s the benefit of coming to a small municipality like Åre as a refugee. “Last year we went through the 400 faces and there were only a handful of people we weren’t sure what they were doing”, Mattias told me.
The friendly team at Åre Kommun takes every opportunity to get to know their new neighbours. Monthly outdoor recreational activities such as cross-country skiing are not only a way to teach newcomers to enjoy (and stay warm!) in Åre’s magnificent nature, but also a way for staff and newcomers get to know one another in a relaxed setting. This is important when it comes to finding the right match for a job.
The team also spends a lot of time working with employers to
identify vacancies and understand exactly what kind of employee they are
looking for. Knowing the newcomers’ characters and personalities helps place
the best person for the job. Thanks to the region’s reputation as a world-renowned
ski destination and the growing crowd of mountain bike enthusiasts in the summer,
there is no shortage of jobs. While the seasonal nature of work makes it
difficult to find year-round employment with one company, the board system
helps to coordinate different jobs for people at different times of the year.
“We want them to feel
like we’ve been waiting for them, and that we want them here”, Mattias Sjölundh.
The whole system of support for newcomers in Åre is geared toward making an individual welcome
which builds on strengths. ‘Former refugees’ aren’t people to be ‘helped’, but
a vital part of the region’s growth and prosperity. In 2010 Åre’s population was steadily declining with 10,300
residents, but now thanks to the newcomers it has grown to over 11,200 people.
In Åre, welcoming people means valuing
what each and every individual has to offer and finding ways to put this into
practice. It’s intensive work, but you can now find a newcomer working within
almost every business across the region. And the relationships formed between newcomers,
their employers and colleagues pay dividends at a social level and boosts the
community’s overall acceptance of newcomers.
Of the many newcomers that have arrived in Åre over the past couple of years, 8 out of 10 people are in employment and 90% have stayed in the town.
When I visited an Intensive Swedish for Immigrants class in Järpen I asked how many people had a Swedish neighbour they are friends with. I was surprised to see 2/3 of the class raise their hands! A ‘welcoming community’ is a concept that’s difficult to measure but if the students’ response is any indication, Åre’s got something pretty special going on.
Lofoten depends on its fisheries for its livelihood. Ever since the Viking Age, the chain of islands has played an important role in fishing for Norwegian Arctic cod which spawn in their millions during the Winter months. Even today, the industry follows an ancient preservation technique which involves gutting, heading and cleaning the fish, tying them together in pairs by the tail and hanging them up to dry naturally on wooden racks for about 3 months.
The historical significance of the cod extends far beyond Lofoten. Since the 11th Century it was the cod that gave Norway the power and money necessary to establish the church, an administration, monarchy and government, and eventually their own parliament. It is said that the most important weapon of the Vikings was the cod, which not only served as a commodity but also a nutritious food with no expiry date that made it possible to survive on long voyages.
The picturesque,
rural municipality of Flakstad was built on fishing and it continues to be the
main employer. The region is also rapidly becoming a popular destination for
tourists attracted to the northern aurora lights, outdoor activities and
spectacular scenery.
The trouble is there’s not enough people to do the jobs. Most of the work available is lower level factory or trade-related work. But as society has developed, Norwegian people are no longer interested in these jobs. It’s a vicious circle – with few professional jobs available, educated young people see no alternative but to move to the mainland. This stops new jobs from being created and also leads to a declining population. In the year 2000, Flakstad had around 1500 inhabitants spread across 20 villages, but now there’s only 1292.
Bringing in seasonal workers from Eastern Europe has offered a short-term fix. Temporary workers, mostly from Poland and Lithuania, are flown in by recruitment agencies for 3-4 months at a time. But the local community wants them to stay. With only 90 children in the primary and secondary school they are struggling to stay afloat. The shrinking tax base is compromising the local economy. And the employers need a reliable workforce that they can depend upon.
Part of the challenge is the
seasonality of the work, which means employers can only guarantee employment
for a short part of the year. So some of the companies came up with the
idea that the fishery and tourism-related businesses could get together
alongside other businesses to map out a year’s worth of work which could be
offered to workers who are interested to stay.
And this turned into the immigrant
retention project “From Seasonal Worker to Flakstad Inhabitants”. They
started by speaking with the seasonal workers to understand their
experiences. Seasonal workers who start at a company involved with
the project in Flakstad now complete a questionnaire with detailed
information about their prior work experience, skills and personal motivations.
Ultimately, the goal is to offer each person – and their spouse – meaningful
work year-long.
This confirmed there was interest to stay, but that it wasn’t just jobs that was stopping people. “The society has a bigger problem recruiting people than the industry does”, Hilde Rødås Johnsen told me. She works for SALT, a consultancy working with the municipal government on the project. “We found out that an important factor for people to want to make a life in Flakstad and bring their family to join them is feeling part of the community”. And at the moment they are very much on the outside. As a seasonal worker there is little opportunity to learn the Norwegian language or join any social and community activities.
The findings have been incorporated as a key part of Flakstad Municipality’s 2019-2031 Community Plan. While the need started with stable employment, the focus is now just as much on how to make sure people feel included in the community. This has spurred on a number of smaller projects such as ‘The Meeting Place’, initiated by the municipality. A new space where amongst other activities, locals and immigrants can meet to get to know each other. It’s a smart idea. Start with the newcomers already in the community and focus on keeping them. And what better way to do this than by asking the newcomers themselves.
While the project is in its early days, if early progress is any indication, immigrants might just be the answer to keeping Norway’s treasured cod fishing industry alive.
If you’re Somali in St. Cloud Minnesota, some media outlets would have you believe that it’s the worst place in the USA to be. But my time there showed me otherwise.
Somalis have been singled out as a ‘dangerous’ group through a government-imposed travel ban which prevents new refugees (including family of those already in the country) from entering the USA. However, in spite of increasingly negative rhetoric, Somali Americans in St. Cloud are thriving and revitalizing the economic and social fabric of the community.
“Instead of
(the public) hearing from the media, now we’re telling our own narrative. That
helps the Somali communities and the communities that lived here before get to
know each other better and accept each other”, local Abdi Daisane told me.
So what’s it really like to live as a Somali in St. Cloud? Are the insular days of ‘White Cloud’, as St. Cloud used to be known, gone?
Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. What you held in your hand, what you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the regions of kindness. How you ride and ride thinking the bus will never stop, the passengers eating maize and chicken will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho lies dead by the side of the road. You must see how this could be you, how he too was someone who journeyed through the night with plans and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you see the size of the cloth. Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, only kindness that ties your shoes and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread, only kindness that raises its head from the crowd of the world to say It is I you have been looking for, and then goes with you everywhere like a shadow or a friend.
In 2015 when thousands of desperate refugees starting streaming into Germany from Syria and Iraq, the country just had to respond. There was no time to prepare the community. There was no time to put the services in place. There was no time to setup orderly procedures.
People were
there. And they needed help.
In the peaceful Oberallgäu region of Southern Bavaria, the refugee crisis seemed like a problem for cities like Munich – only 2 hours away by train but far enough to be out of mind. The tightknit, largely Catholic community had gone relatively unchanged for a long period of time. Only small numbers of foreigners came into the region (mostly for work) and this went mostly unnoticed.
That is until
the German Government announced their policy of dispersal. Suddenly the refugee
crisis became a nation-wide shared problem, or shared solution you could say. It was thought that the distribution of
refugees across the country would help to avoid issues with concentration in
particular cities. The Oberallgäu District Government were quickly requested
to advise how many they could accept.
They looked at their county of 150,000 people, spread across 28 towns with populations ranging from 200 – 20,000 people. Each town was directed to accept 1% of their population of refugees. As the number of refugees continued to rise, this grew to about 2% (where it remains). This of course was met with mixed responses. But peer pressure between towns helped urge less supportive ones along. It was a shared problem so it was only fair that every town played their part. Very soon around 1,700 refugees were in Oberallgäu.
Most locals
I’ve spoken to describe the years of 2015 and 2016 as ‘chaos’.
But one thing I have experienced on this Fellowship is that out of crisis; compassion, resourcefulness and creativity flourish.
Today I visited one of the region’s 43 refugee accommodation facilities, a converted army barracks in Sonthofen, Oberallgäu’s largest town. At its peak, it accommodated around 280 refugees. Now it’s home to almost 70 people, with many living there for around 3-4 years.
The central government was overwhelmed, so it was up to each region to figure it out themselves. “We agreed to take 1,700 people, but then it was up to us to find somewhere to house them”, a District employee told me. With few vacant private rental properties on the market they had to get creative.
Shipping containers were fitted out as basic accommodation. Vacant restaurants were converted into living spaces.
“We had never done this before, so we just had to use what we had in the community and get on with it”. What they had were villages of people who when called upon, didn’t think twice about volunteering to do whatever they could.
During my visit today I was struck by the enormity of this kindness. These images will stay with me as a moving reminder of our humanity.
Most of the volunteers had no prior knowledge of refugee issues. They responded to human need with compassion and pragmatism.
And through the process, they learned about what it means to be a refugee and heard the individual stories of trauma, loss and survival. The community realised that refugees were people just like them. A form of education and awareness-raising on the go – far more powerful than any news story or training seminar could ever be.
Oberallgäu continues to support its new residents as they build a future for themselves in the region. While their needs have evolved to be more about German language learning, employment and social participation, volunteers stand ready to scale up efforts and reinstate on-arrival emergency supports at a moment’s notice.
“We know that the situation in Syria and Iraq could worsen, or that a new conflict could escalate at any time, meaning more people who need our protection” a volunteer tells me. “Next time we will be more ready”.
Legend has it that the population explosion which took Brooks, Alberta by surprise in the 1990s was all predicted by one man who was chased out of town!
When the
owners of the town’s meat processing plant sold to a multinational company in
1994, a University Professor from the US who had heard about the sale arrived
in town. He went to talk with locals, the Chamber of Commerce – really anyone
who would listen – and ended up in a meeting with City Council.
The man gave
a cautionary message. He told them that he had been studying meat processing plants
for the last 30 years of his life and warned them of the significant change about
to happen within their community. He advised that it was impossible to predict
exactly what this would look like but that the population was likely to double
in size, and that there would be many people arriving who look different, talk
different and come from different backgrounds. “One thing is clear”, he said,
“you will have to adapt and change”. City Council quickly dismissed the man’s
message as fear mongering and chased him out of town.
St Cloud, Minnesota shares a similar past. When PM Beef processing plant in the nearby town of Marshall closed down in 2015, over 250 employees found themselves suddenly without work. Many of these were Somali refugees who, in urgent need of a job, moved to St Cloud which was the closest major town. Since then the population of Somalis in St Cloud has boomed and is at just over 10,000 in a city of 100,000 people. Locals credit this to the initial critical mass of Somalis that moved there following PM Beef’s closure, which then sparked others to relocate from different parts of the US. St Cloud is doing well in terms of settling its new residents but there is still a real sense of concern amongst some people about the rapid pace of change. And this has caused divisions within the community.
You will
see this trend no matter where you go in the world, Australia included. Meat
processing companies are a major employer of low or semi-skilled workers, jobs often
filled by migrants or refugees. The companies are usually pretty switched on at
how to recruit and retain refugee employees. Working in an abattoir is not the
most appealing job, so offering incentives like accommodation, transport
to-and-from work and English language classes in the workplace can help sweeten
the deal.
This impacts on communities. And when business can be the trigger for large scale demographic changes, how can community members be brought along as key stakeholders to plan and prepare? Trends like those associated with the meat processing industry are well documented, so the worst thing we can do is stick our head in the sand and ignore possible impacts. Surprises for any community will lead to conflict, so careful planning and community involvement is key.
Rural towns are full of rednecks and racists. Owen Sound is shattering this stereotype one community sponsor at a time.
For a town of 20,000 people, it has experienced a lot of change over the past few years. The catalyst was the Canadian Government’s policy to allow community groups to sponsor refugees. So far 25 refugee families have arrived, with others now also choosing to relocate to Owen Sound from different parts of Canada.
It started with a couple of key leaders, including a church minister who organised a community meeting at the local church in September 2015. 75 curious and compassionate locals showed up, many of whom had been touched by the image of 3 year old Alan Kurdi’s body washed up on a beach in Europe.
Out of this meeting, a small number of church members put their hand up to form the first sponsorship group. They brought out an Eritrean refugee family of seven. Other locals
watched keenly from the sidelines. The Eritrean family were well-liked by the
community and settling well. You can do it too – was the message filtering out
through the town.
Monthly meetings were organized at the church to encourage others to get involved. This turned into the Grey Bruce Newcomer Network which harnessed the groundswell of support as other sponsorship groups quickly began to form. The volunteer network became a way for the community to self-organise, support one another and share insights and challenges. With the nearest funded settlement service more than 150km away there were no existing services close by and this made it even more important for the community to educate themselves to ensure that refugees were provided with the highest possible level of care and welcome.
Now it’s Thursday night in Owen Sound and I’m participating in a lively open night event at the Arden Language Centre. Diversity seems the norm here. Adult English students from all different backgrounds are proudly showcasing their culture and the building is alive with colour and vibrancy.
Responding
to a lack of English language services in the region, the school was started by
husband and wife-team Andy and Dave after the first refugee families started to
arrive. “Here we do more than just teach English” Dave tells me, “we build
human connections”. The school relies on over 50 volunteers to teach just over 40
students. On top of the incredible language and literacy outcomes the school
has enabled for students, the personal relationships formed between volunteers
and students have been powerful in influencing broader community acceptance for
refugees and newcomers. And importantly, this has helped newcomers feel welcome
and like they belong.
Owen Sound didn’t need everything to be perfectly in place to become an inclusive new home for refugees – the community responded as the need emerged. But it started with leadership and a seed of compassion.
With the church minister, who brought ordinary community members into a conversation around diversity and social justice. And the first pioneering sponsorship group, whose endorsement and encouragement paved the way for other locals to become sponsors. And Dave and Andy, who not only responded to a gap in services but recognised the importance of getting locals involved.
What Owen Sound teaches us is how big social change can often start with the leadership of one or two trusted and respected community champions. It also shows us the power of personal connections in sustaining positive change.
“Of course
racism still exists here”, a local tells me, “But the difference now is that
when one guy makes a racist remark in the pub, there’s 2 or 3 other guys around
him to tell him to shut the ** up. And he shuts up pretty quickly!”