The following essay was originally compiled for the Mixed Migration Review 2024 and has been reproduced here for wider access through this website’s readership.
The essay’s author, Mallika Goel, is a young professional with a background in history and international affairs, and with experience in communication, security and humanitarian work. A passionate writer, she enjoys using the written word to explore complex issues across diverse fields.
“Today, too many foreigners are arriving, and not the right ones.” As Switzerland gears up for a referendum to curb immigration, these words by Marcel Dettling, the leader of the hard-right party currently in power, prompted me to reflect on my own journey as a former international student and young professional in Geneva. Was I considered one of the ‘right ones’?
The allure of working for an international organisation brought me to the self-avowedly international city of Geneva in the midst of a pandemic, to pursue a master’s degree at an institute which prides itself on being a gateway to the United Nations. Admittedly, my lofty motivations to create a positive social impact were sprinkled with a fair amount of self-interest. I wanted access to top-quality education and better economic opportunities for myself. Having witnessed first-hand the notoriously gruelling work culture in India, I believed that, should I move to Europe, I could have a healthier work-life balance. As I had never lived outside of my home country before, I was anxious about whether I would be accepted in a foreign environment. I felt slightly reassured by the fact that almost half of Geneva’s inhabitants are foreign, and thought this cosmopolitanism would translate to a culture of embracing diversity.
Upon my arrival, I saw that the ground realities were not exactly what I had envisioned. More immigrants did not necessarily mean more societal acceptance. At university, I felt at home amongst students from all over the world who, like myself, were trying to find their place in society. However, I soon realised that outside this bubble of well-educated and well-travelled young people, there was a pervasive sentiment that Switzerland is pristine, and the arrival of any foreign element might endanger this precarious perfection. I remember an incident that took place on my first morning in Geneva. Having woken up to rashes all over my body, I complained to my landlady, a retired American who had moved to Switzerland over 30 years earlier, of bedbugs. She responded, with total conviction, that Switzerland does not have any bedbugs, and that I had probably brought them myself. Cognisant of the difficulty of finding affordable housing as a foreign student, I ignored her while hastening my search for alternative accommodation.
More often, such hostility was not directed at me personally. Once, a middle-aged English colleague jokingly lamented having to wait with immigrants and refugees, whom she referred to as “the real dregs of society”, during an appointment for her residency permit. I smiled awkwardly as she spoke, realising that, in her mind, she and I were different from other immigrants. My education, interests, choice of clothing and manner of speaking made me more acceptable to my Western counterparts than many other immigrants. Looking back, while a part of me was offended by her statement, another part felt an unsettling sense of validation, as though I had been granted entry into an exclusive club.
In my opinion, the desire to be accepted in a foreign land and integrate into the host community is very natural. However, the need to fit into an environment which is increasingly averse to immigrants incentivises people to distinguish themselves from the broader mass of foreigners by propagating anti-immigrant sentiments. This is especially true for people who have settled in the country for decades and have seemingly forgotten that they, too, were once fresh off the boat.
The inherent inequalities within the system perpetuate in-group competition among immigrants. After I graduated, as I was from outside the European Union, I had three months to find a job or else be deported. The refusal of private companies to sponsor work authorisations for foreigners severely limited options for people like me. We had to compete for very few open positions at international organisations like the UN.
I was completely unprepared for the vast discrepancy between international organisations’ theoretical commitment to diversity and the actual practices that they follow. Despite their substantial funding, most international organisations do not pay their interns a living wage, effectively limiting opportunities to those who can afford to live in one of the world’s most expensive cities without a sufficient income and with no promise of future employment. I was fortunate to be able to undertake a six-month internship at a prestigious organisation, thanks to financial support from my parents. However, many of my friends had to return to their home countries, either because they could not find an internship or because they could not afford it.
Resentment against the system is often channelled against vulnerable communities. Within the context of the Indian diaspora, it is not uncommon to hear people complain about the influx of refugees. A major reason is the perceived unfairness of the situation. While Indians have had to work very hard to establish a place for themselves abroad, undergoing stringent residency procedures, refugees are often seen as benefitting from more lenient entry requirements and immediate access to social support systems. While this resentment may stem from competition for resources and recognition, it also reflects a deeper struggle for acceptance and belonging in a society that continues to place immigrants in hierarchical categories of worth.
Closely intertwined with this phenomenon is the ‘model minority’ stereotype, which suggests that certain immigrant groups, like Indians, achieve success through exceptionally hard work and dedication. My own family often reminded me to capitalise on the positive reputation that Indians have abroad, encouraging me to always go above and beyond in my efforts, as that is the only way to stand out from others. This mindset was so ingrained in me that, when my manager called me after work hours, I felt an obligation to respond immediately, believing that maintaining this image of diligence was crucial for my acceptance and success in a foreign land.
After the internship, I secured a job within the same organisation. However, a few months later, budget cuts left me without a job, legally requiring me to wrap up the past several years of my life and move back to India within two weeks. Just as I was beginning to get comfortable with the life that I had built for myself in Geneva, it was snatched away from me due to circumstances that were beyond my control. Not only was it a logistical nightmare, but it was an intensely emotional upheaval, which felt like a personal failure.
My experience in Geneva was not unique, but rather a microcosm of the broader immigrant experience across the globe. The pressures to conform, excel and differentiate oneself from other immigrants often come at the cost of one’s mental wellbeing and sense of identity. The challenges I faced, from navigating cultural misunderstandings to confronting systemic barriers in the job market, taught me resilience, adaptability and the importance of perseverance in the face of adversity. More importantly, they deepened my empathy towards others facing similar struggles, regardless of their background.
To conclude, I don’t know whether I fit Mr Dettling’s notion of the ‘right’ foreigner, nor do I care. My own experience defies such simplistic categorisations. Such reductive labels strip individuals of their complexity, reducing them to arbitrary traits deemed acceptable by prevailing norms. In truth, every immigrant brings a unique story and valuable contributions to their host country. The conversation needs to be more empathetic and, instead of framing migration as a problem to be solved, should focus on promoting inclusive policies and nurturing a culture that recognises and celebrates the inherent worth and potential of each person. This, I firmly believe, paves the way for a more compassionate and equitable society for all.
