America, the lantern in the dark

For centuries, America has been a beacon of hope and opportunity to the refugees of the world. From the pilgrims who fled religious persecution in England to Irish families displaced by famine to Cubans, the Vietnamese and Eastern Europeans — including myself — hoping to escape the tyranny of communism, the United States has always been the “shining city upon a hill,” where people facing hardship could forge a fresh start.

Now, as 4 million Syrians, made homeless by a devastating civil war, look for sanctuary, we must live up to our sacred responsibility and open our doors to those in need. Thus far, we have not met our historic commitment to displaced families.

{mosads}As The New York Times recently noted, 318,000 Vietnamese refugees found homes here in 1979-1980, and during the Mariel boatlift, we took in 80,000 Cuban exiles in one month. But since 2011, across four years of destruction and bloodshed, we have allowed only 1,500 Syrian refugees to relocate to the United States. That is shamefully inadequate.

The Obama administration recently announced that 10,000 more Syrians would be allowed here next year, and that the worldwide cap on refugees to the U.S. would be raised from 70,000 to 100,000 by 2017. A better start, but why not more? Germany, a nation with one-fourth our population, will soon take in 800,000 new citizens. Helping these Syrian families could literally mean the difference between life and death.

I myself am one of the many Americans who came here as a refugee. I will never forget the experience. After defecting from communist Yugoslavia in 1955, I was relocated to a transit camp near Nuremberg to wait for an entry visa. Everyone there was suspended in limbo. We had forfeited everything — our jobs, our possessions, our past lives — and were now alone and friendless in a foreign country. I remember being ashamed at the feeling of helplessness, my complete reliance on strangers for handouts.

Many years later, as prime minister of Yugoslavia, I saw those same feelings reflected in the faces of cowed children and ailing old men at a transit camp for Bosnian refugees at Lake Palić, near the Hungarian border. As I walked from tent to tent, everyone I met was clearly terrified and traumatized by the terrible things they had seen.

Today’s refugees are undergoing similar trials. Each day brings tragedy — boats sinking in the Mediterranean, trucks overloaded with the dead, tear gas along the Macedonian border. These families are risking everything to survive. They are not the hardened terrorists of xenophobes’ nightmares. Almost 40 percent of these refugees are under the age of 11 — these are frightened children.

This is all the more reason why we should help. As long as I can remember, I have been inspired by America and the freedom it represents. When my visa came, I moved here with less than $20 in my pocket, relocated to California, started a pharmaceuticals business and, ultimately, achieved the American dream. I have enjoyed great success and lived a full and joyous life. But had this country not opened its doors to me, my path might have been very different.

In fact, my story is not unique. As AOL founder Steve Case pointed out, new arrivals to America are almost twice as likely to start a company, and 40 percent of Fortune 500 companies were started by immigrants or their children.

And it’s not just business. Among the many laudable refugees to these shores are artists like Mikhail Baryshnikov and Salvador Dali, diplomats such as Madeleine Albright and Henry Kissinger, and great minds like Hannah Arendt and Albert Einstein. Allowing more Syrians to live here is not an act of charity — it would be an act of national renewal, one that has already played out countless times in the American story.

Above all else, opening our door is the right thing to do, and we know it. It is the parable of the Good Samaritan. It is the poetry of Emma Lazarus, inscribed on the Statue of Liberty: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore.”

It is the call of Pope Francis to Congress last week, that in the face of a great refugee crisis, we “seek for others the same possibilities which we seek for ourselves.” It is in the words of John F. Kennedy. “This country has always served as a lantern in the dark for those who love freedom but are persecuted, in misery, or in need,” he wrote in 1961. “We must [do] our share in the compassionate task of helping those who are refugees today, as were so many of our forefathers in the years past.”

This is not just rhetoric. This is a vision of America that continues to inspire people all over the world, and the source of the strength that makes us the greatest nation on the planet. Let us not dishonor our sacred creed. Let us take these families in.= 

Panic, a California businessman and the former prime minister of Yugoslavia, is the author of “Prime Minister for Peace: My Struggle for Serbian Democracy.”