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But we’re trash, you and me

We’re the litter on the breeze

Brett Anderson & Richard Oakes.

I’d like to believe that the writer Rockne S. O'Bannon ​high-fived himself when he came up with the title, ​‘Alien Nation’, for the 1988 science fiction film ​directed by Graham Baker. Playing on a phrase that ​both describes the arrival on Earth of an alien race, ​the so-called ‘Newcomers’, and the phrase (as a ​single word) that means the opposite of ‘belonging’, ​the film missed an opportunity to explore the ​complexity of human and humanoid, inter-species ​integration, choosing instead to opt for a ​straightforward police murder revenge flick. A ​damning criticism was made by Robert Ebert of the ​Chicago Sun Times when he wrote “Alien Nation ​feels like a movie made by people who have seen a ​lot of movies, but don't think the audience has.” ​Although the theme of alienation was explored more ​convincingly in Neill Blomkamp’s 2009 film, District ​Nine, with its less humanoid-looking aliens, ​derogatorily called ‘prawns’, its more overt satirical ​nature (the film is set in post-apartheid South Africa) ​still left more questions unanswered than answered, ​as it chased a standard action fantasy narrative ​rather than getting drawn into any messy socio-​political analyses. As such, to quote the same Robert ​Ebert, “the movie remains space opera and avoids ​the higher realms of science-fiction.” Great CGI ​though!

“We’re spending so much money to keep ​them here when we could be spending it on ​other things” District Nine

In a similar story, a group of some 300 persecuted refugees ​are driven from their homeland and risk their lives to make ​their way to a small town in a different country where a ​devastating plague had decimated the local population. ​These ‘strangers’ are much needed but, predictably, they are ​not welcomed by all, being accused of ‘sucking the living ​away from the locals’; a fear that leads to violent clashes and ​punitive restrictions being imposed. However, with time, as ​the new skills they bring to the community improves the local ​economy and brings prosperity to the region, the restrictions ​are gradually relaxed, and the strangers begin to settle into ​their new lives. Soon they comprise around a quarter of the ​city’s population adding to the cultural variety and vibrancy ​of the community. Strong personal links begin to form ​between the two communities, with the more influential ​members of each group marrying, forming business relations, ​and sending their children to the same schools where they ​grow up together. Although integrating well with the locals ​and not deliberately ‘ghettoised’, many of the strangers ​choose to live together as a recognisable community in one ​part of the city to maintain their own identity and culture. ​However, at the State level, the country’s rulers remain ​largely uncertain of the strangers’ loyalty to their new, ​adopted country, and their response wavers between control ​and welcome, as they seek to find the right balance between ​restrictive policies to appease the indigenous population ​whilst still benefitting from the needed skills and ​technologies brought by the increasing influx of strangers.

Not a film you recognise? That’s not surprising as it’s not fiction, but a description of the arrival of the so-​called ‘Elizabethan Strangers’; a group of 30 Dutch, Calvanist families who fled to the city of Norwich in ​Norfolk from the Low Countries of Northern Europe, in the 16th Century, to escape persecution by their ​Spanish Catholic rulers. In addition to their, readily monetised, and much needed weaving skills (and ​indeed their love of canary breeding that has left an indelible mark on their adopted city), they also ​brought with them the word that we still use today to signify otherness.

The experience of the Elizabethan strangers could ​describe the influx of any minority into an established ​community and the ‘Arrivals: Celebrating Migration to ​Suffolk’ exhibition at The Hold in Ipswich reveals many ​of these parallels as it documents the historical and ​contemporary impact of newcomers moving into ​Suffolk since the end of World War II. The exhibition ​presents stories of arrival, community, and different ​cultures with use of personal loans and archival ​materials to document the experiences of generations ​of migrants – defined as being born outside the UK - ​who have made their home in Suffolk but could ​equally be told in many other parts of the world where ​immigration has played a crucial role in economic ​development and filling labour shortages. The Arrivals ​exhibition has been curated with an overall positive ​feeling and, unlike the fictions described previously, ​has its primary focus on the favourable aspects of ​migration, from the cultural to the culinary. It does ​not, however, consider the national response to ​migration where an influx of strangers might bring ​disorganised challenge to the order often imposed ​and sought by a nation-state, which is then faced with ​the challenge of assimilating the stranger, expelling ​them, or destroying them, but often only produces a ​response that is a muddled confusion of all three. This ​inconsistent messaging strengthens the strangers’ ​desire to maintain their own communities, so ​preventing a more complete integration into the wider ​society, thus breeding more distrust and fuelling a ​cycle of uncertainty and fear.

However, the truth of ‘otherness’ lies somewhere between the dystopian views of Alien Nation and District 9 and ​the more progressive aspects of the Arrivals exhibition and is much more nuanced and individual. Coming much ​closer to the viewpoint of an outsider, is Andrew Haigh’s beautiful, romantic film adaptation, ‘All of Us Strangers’ ​of the 1987 Tokyo-set novel, Strangers, by Yamada Taichi. Within its supernatural storyline, it uses the queerness ​of Andrew Scott’s moving portrayal of Adam, to describe, more realistically, the feelings of isolation and ​loneliness that often accompany being an individual within a minority as Adam attempts to come to terms with ​structural homophobia and his parents’ sudden and premature death. We begin to see hope of healing through a ​burgeoning, loving relationship that develops with Harry (Paul Mescal) as Adam’s feelings of being a stranger ​within his own family and wider society begin to dissipate through being given the miraculous chance to speak ​with his dead parents, as an adult, about his life, being gay and being on the verge of a relationship. With the ​lifting of the burden he has carried all of his adult life, Adam says to Harry, “I want to go out. You and me, ​together, into the world”. But where do they go? Where can they go? To the safe space of a queer club where ​they can be exactly who they are. In public, but within their community. In other words, ‘home’.

Can this explain why newcomers select to build communities together? In simple terms, it begins as a ​reaction to the sense of ‘otherness’ created by the dominant in-group (‘Us’) who are often quick to identify ​and stigmatize a difference – real or imagined – in the out-group (‘them’) which can then be used as a motive ​for potential discrimination; at least until the identity and character of the newcomer can be ascertained. ​This naturally leads to a need in the out-group to protect its own physical safety and well-being through the ​forging of personal connections with similar social groups, physical places, and individual and collective ​experiences to create that fundamental human need – a ‘sense of belonging’. Indeed, Alan et al (Aust J ​Psychol., 2021) go as far as to postulate that a sense of belonging “may be just as important as food, shelter, ​and physical safety for promoting health and survival in the long run” and as such “predicts numerous ​mental, physical, social, economic, and behavioural outcomes”.

They proposed a conceptual framework for belonging that consisted of four components:

· competencies for belonging (skills and abilities);

· opportunities to belong (enablers, removal/ reduction of barriers);

· motivations to belong (inner drive); and

· perceptions of belonging (cognitions, attributions, and feedback mechanisms — positive or negative ​experiences when connecting)

and commented that it is the dynamic interaction and reinforcement of these components over time, and ​within the prevailing social context, that gives rise to ‘high belonging levels’.

Us (us, us, us, us) and them (them, them, them, them)

And after all we're only ordinary men

Waters and Wright

Much progress has been made since the 1960s and 70s, ​when integration measures were barely present, as towns ​and cities began to recognise the specific housing, labour ​and language needs of the migrants in their communities ​This recognition has also gradually evolved from ​specifically targeted approaches towards the newcomers ​to a greater appreciation of the benefits of focussing on ​challenges faced by all communities, both migrant and ​native-born, through adoption of general policies that ​avoid the development of, unhelpful, parallel systems. ​However, income inequality still has a clear spatial ​dimension and the concentration of migrants’ in certain ​neighbourhoods has been increasing in recent decades. ​Whilst this can bring quick advantage to migrant ​communities in terms of job opportunities, resilience and ​social networks (which, in part explains the readiness of ​newcomers to join these existing communities), living in ​poor neighbourhoods can have a negative effect on ​individual outcomes in terms of health, income, education ​and general well-being. Such segregation can also prevent ​migrants from accessing many of the opportunities and ​services that could help them participate more fully in ​wider decision-making processes through which they might, ​for example, be able to break the intergenerational ​transmission of racial inequality that could reduce the ​chances for their children to receive the quality education ​that could enhance future career opportunities.

In a somewhat coincidental parallel to the story of the Elizabethan Strangers arrival into Norwich in 1565, in ​Ipswich, today, we find the greatest diversity in communities along its Norwich Road, located in the Whitton ​ward/electoral division, in the constituency of Central Suffolk and North Ipswich, which, according to the 2021 ​census, has a 51% higher-than-average level of social housing compared to the national average of just over ​17%. The area also has 70% household deprivation as measured in terms of falling behind in at least one of the ​four dimensions of employment, education, health/disability, and/or overcrowding. A walk down the road, ​however, shows a vibrant space with a mix of colours, sounds and flavours as international restaurants, ​supermarkets, cafes, hairdressers, barbers and fabric shops all jostle for space and customers along both sides ​of a road that leads into Ipswich from the A14 and all points North – including Norwich (at least if you’d turned ​off from the older A140).

For some native-born residents, however, this change has been unsettling, and the road has been used as a ​focus, at times, for expressing fears about these ‘strangers’, in particular, and immigration more generally. ​Mark Straw, of Community Praxis, part of the Destination Norwich Road project states: “Norwich Road is ​unfortunately tarnished with a range of reputations of people’s pathologies,” as he and the other project ​workers aim to spread a more hopeful message across the wider community, by breaking down barriers and ​dispelling misinformation. Mr Straw continues: “There’s a beauty and majesty about how people coexist and ​are tolerant of each other and that’s something that needs to be sung about.” In addition, the ​entrepreneurial flair exhibited along the Norwich Road has been highlighted as something to be celebrated ​and showcased for how success can be grown through ‘passion and heart’ rather than professional ​qualifications.

“When you look at police statistics and ​what’s actually happening, what we’ve ​noticed so far, is that it’s more about ​fear of crime than crime itself.”

Phanuel Mutumburi, of the Ipswich and ​Suffolk Council for Racial Equality.

The canary, originating from the Macaronesian Islands (the ​Azores, Madeira and the Canary Islands) was once itself a ​migrant, a ‘stranger’ to the city of Norwich, having been brought ​there to sing to their owners, the Dutch and Walloon weavers, ​whilst they worked. But this bright yellow bird has now ​influenced not only the nickname of their football club, but also ​the kit colours and badge; the latter, a canary standing on a ball, ​inspiring the (allegedly) oldest, modern day, football chant. ​Whilst it’s not believed that any animal companions of the ​residents of Norwich Road inspired the Suffolk Punch horse now ​adorning the club crest of Ipswich Town FC, it can only be hoped ​that, with time and understanding, a similar mutual respect and ​understanding can be obtained in all communities whereby – to ​quote William Butler Yeats -

There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven't yet met.

Prem Kumar

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A love song for strangers.

In this collection of photoessays, I aim to capture certain ​aspects of modern culture as seen through a lens shaped ​either by Apple, Fujifilm and/or my own perspective.