The present article examines the reception of migrants upon reaching European shores, with particular attention to how they are welcomed or otherwise accommodated within the broader context of hospitality practices. This analysis focuses on select passages from Omar El Akkad's novel What Strange Paradise (2021), which portrays migrants as spectral figures, challenging our perceptions of reality and forcing us to confront what is often ignored or suppressed.

In literary works depicting the experiences of migrants crossing the Mediterranean or arriving in Europe, the figure of the ghost frequently symbolizes the necessity for accountability. By disrupting the status quo and prompting an examination of one's own positions and behaviors, the ghost serves as a powerful metaphor for the urgent need to address the complex issues surrounding the hospitality crisis. The novel is structured in "Before" and "After" chapters, concluding with a "Now" chapter.

The narrative follows the experiences of Amir, a nine-year-old boy who attempts the Mediterranean crossing, eventually reaching shore (depending on readings) and encountering the difficulties and controversies of the European hospitality system. Through Amir's journey, the novel explores the difficulties and controversies of the European hospitality system. Without intending to provide a comprehensive analysis of the novel, I will focus on how migrants are portrayed either as ghosts or as characters who evade the gaze, a trope that is prevalent throughout the novel.

The ghost metaphor in migrant narratives

The figure of the ghost has long been a common metaphor for people whose marginalization renders them less than "fully real" or substantial. Scholar Esther Peeren1 refers to clandestine migrants as "living ghosts": individuals whose lack of legal status makes them effectively invisible, "ignored and considered expendable" (Peeren 2014: 14) and "avoided, exploited, and abjected" (ibid.: 17). The image of the migrant's body, ready to disappear and be absorbed by the boundless sea, is often used in novels that deal with the migrant's experience of crossing. El Akkad's What Strange Paradise is no exception, describing one character's plunge into the sea as a rite of passage between life and death:

With ease and without pain, he flew past the surface, past the depths, past the places where light and life surrendered and the domain of stillness began […] past the crust of a million interlocking bodies who'd braved this passage before him and come to rest at the bottom, sick with the secrets of their own unallowed mourning” (223).

Nevertheless, the figure of the ghost is not solely defined by its tendency to vanish; it also manifests itself and is traditionally associated with a demand for justice. This manifestation gives rise to feelings of uncertainty regarding the precise form and intentions of the ghost. Indeed, the spectral figure occupies a liminal space between the realms of the living and the dead. It exists in a state of suspended animation, neither fully embodied in the physical world nor fully disembodied in the spiritual realm. Furthermore, it confounds the boundaries between visibility and invisibility, materiality and immateriality, life and death, presence and absence, and reality and imagination.

Derrida2 (1994: xix) posits that the concern for justice lies at the core of the inclination to speak in terms of ghosts. In this context, the ghost serves as a metaphor for unresolved issues, unacknowledged histories, and the persistent influence of the past in the present. It represents those who are marginalized, forgotten, or rendered invisible by dominant narratives and structures of power. Portraying migrants as ghosts in the narrative is not inherently negative, as it demands recognition, remembrance, and responsibility.

Living ghosts: the invisibility of migrants

The author's decision to include the term "paradise" in the title raises questions about its intended meaning. Historically, "paradise" depicts an idyllic, utopian locale characterized by security, prosperity, and happiness. However, by coupling "paradise" with the adjective "strange," the author prompts readers to challenge their assumptions and recognize the dissonance between the promise of a better life and the lived experiences of migrants. This serves as an illustrative commentary on the illusions of sanctuary and the harsh realities beneath the surface. Indeed, the novel subverts the notion of an idyllic paradise by juxtaposing it with the rejecting hospitality that migrants receive upon arrival.

They are brought to refugee camps, described as "hell, a nowhere place" (94). These camps are not sanctuaries; rather, they are liminal spaces where individuals are trapped in a state of perpetual uncertainty. Migrants are confined to transitional and temporary spaces, rendered as spectral figures, nearly invisible to external society, existing solely within their (in)visible existence between the known and the unknown world. In such liminal spaces as refugee centers, migrants' lives are effectively placed on hold, awaiting either the granting of asylum or deportation. Their existence is typified by a state of existential limbo, suspended between hope and despair.

Upon reaching European shores, migrants are apprehended by coast guards, led by a colonel who claims to have been reduced to "chasing ghosts" (229). The spectral metaphor highlights the marginality, insubstantiality, and potential for disappearance and reappearance of the migrant.

The colonel's remark introduces an additional layer of complexity, underscoring the invisibility of migrants. These individuals are regarded as spectral figures, present yet not fully acknowledged, their humanity overshadowed by their status as refugees. Additionally, the spectral scene and the figure of the ghost—things out of place and out of time—are associated with signs of disturbance and deviation in the present. The sense of a disturbing presence that can never be erased counters the invisibility of contemporary migrants, the "unmissed" persons that sociologist Alessandro dal Lago defined as "non-persone" [non-people] in his book of the same name.

Dal Lago reflects on how the hypervisibility of today's migrants in the EU contributes to a desire for their exclusion, an intentional invisibility suggesting that deaths at sea are ignored and thus not mourned. He describes the process of denial: "Thanks to strategies of repression, the drowned are deprived of the possibility of being remembered. If while alive they were mere nuisances, bodily burdens, once dead they are simply corpses, without history, without identity, without biography" (dal Lago 2009: 225)3. The colonel's experience of “chasing ghosts” encapsulates this societal denial, as he is left to grapple with the haunting presence of those who are systemaically rendered invisible.

Performative empathy: the hypocrisy of societal outrage

Prior to asserting that he has been pursuing ghosts, the colonel makes a statement to the young child: "Hate me all you want, but at least to me you exist [...] To me you've never stopped existing." His assertion serves to highlight his internal conflict and his awareness of the migrants' existence, which stands in stark contrast to the pervasive societal tendency to render them invisible. He is himself haunted by the spirits of the numerous migrants who have perished at sea. This overwhelming sentiment has resulted in a depletion of his strength and courage. Despite his initial commitment to apprehend the refugee and "take him back to the camp, where he'll be fingerprinted and entered into the system" (231), the colonel ultimately relinquishes his efforts, recognizing the futility of his pursuit. Physically and morally defeated, he is rendered unconscious after being beaten on the head by another shadow.

The colonel's internal conflict is further highlighted by his cynical observation of societal attitudes towards migrants:

You are the temporary object of their fraudulent outrage, their fraudulent grief. They will march streets on your behalf, they will write to politicians on your behalf, they will cry on your behalf, but you are to them in the end nothing but a hook on which to hang the best possible image of themselves. Today you are the only boy in the world, and tomorrow it will be as though you never existed. (230-1)

This quote demonstrates the colonel's recognition of the performative aspect of societal empathy, which contrasts with his genuine concern for the migrants. While society may outwardly express outrage and grief, the colonel is aware that these sentiments are ultimately transient and self-serving. His acknowledgment of this hypocrisy underscores his deeper, more personal connection to the migrants' plight, further complicating his role as both enforcer and empathetic observer. Furthermore, it is a compelling assertion that resonates with the insights of the scholar Fassin4 (2012), who investigated French asylum policies and the evolving nature of migrants' fundamental rights to life.

As posited by the French scholar, such rights are undergoing a transition from the political to the compassionate domain. There is a growing inclination to confer rights upon migrants out of empathy, while simultaneously limiting access to the same rights for those who do not meet the same humanitarian criteria. Similarly, it could be argued that the human dimension of migrants is acknowledged only when it is most threatened.

Fassin suggests, the exercise of humanitarian compassion is “always directed from above to below, from the more powerful to the weaker, the more fragile, the more vulnerable (2012: 4). Thus, in its focus on the saving of lives, humanitarianism at sea creates a hierarchy of life. The colonel's assertion suggests the necessity of a change of frame. Rather than implementing a humanitarian rescue system that reduces migrants to shipwrecked individuals, it would be more beneficial to examine the circumstances of migrants before and after being rescued by military-humanitarian actors. A shift in perspective that goes beyond the conventional border-centric approach to maritime rescue entails underscoring the fundamental principles of freedom of movement and the right to choose one's place of residence. Therefore, it is crucial to highlight the necessity of legalized ways of mobility, rather than focusing on the rhetoric of salvation and other discourses surrounding clandestine migration.

In conclusion, Omar El Akkad's What Strange Paradise offers a poignant exploration of the migrant experience, employing the metaphor of the ghost to elucidate the marginalization and invisibility faced by migrants. The novel presents a compelling challenge to readers, urging them to confront the harsh realities of European migration policies and hospitality practices, and the often performative nature of societal empathy. Through the character of the colonel, El Akkad illuminates the internal conflicts faced by those who enforce these policies, underscoring a profound awareness of the migrants' humanity that starkly contrasts with the indifference of the broader society.

The spectral metaphor offers a compelling means of elucidating the liminal existence of migrants, situated between the realms of life and death, visibility and invisibility. This analysis underscores the necessity for a paradigm shift, moving beyond a border-centric approach to one that recognizes the fundamental rights and humanity of migrants. By advocating for the legalization of mobility and the right to choose one's place of residence, one can promote a more compassionate and just approach to immigration. Ultimately, What Strange Paradise challenges us to acknowledge and address the systemic issues that render migrants invisible and marginalized. It is a call to action, urging us to move beyond superficial expressions of empathy and towards meaningful change that respects and upholds the dignity and rights of all individuals.

References

1 Peeren, Esther (2014). The Spectal Metaphor: Living Ghost and the Agency of Invisibility. Palgrave Macmillan.
2 Derrida, Jacques (1994). Specters of Marx: the state of the dept, the work of mourning, and the new international. New York: Routledge.
3 Dal Lago, Alessandro (2009). Non-persone: L'esclusione dei migranti in una società globale. Milan: Feltrinelli.The translation is mine. The original version is the following: “per effetto di queste strategie di rimozione, agli annegati è tolta la chance di essere ricordati. Se da vivi erano dei meri fastidi, degli ingombri corporei, da morti sono solo cadaveri privi di storia, di identità e di biografia” (2009: 225).
4 Fassin, Didier (2012). Humanitarian Reason. Berkley: University of California Press.