Aspects of migration

Stephen Vasciannie

IF YOU live in an "island paradise", the concept of emigration is almost paradoxical: the push factors in such an environment are severely limited, as residents enjoy the pleasures of home, and encourage visitors to come to their shores, through the inevitable tourist industry or otherwise.

The reality of Jamaica today, however, highlights a different paradox, namely, that although the country still relies heavily on tourism, there continues to be a steady flow of nationals to other places. Teachers at the secondary level anxiously hold on to offers from North American institutions, nurses barely out of training head straight for the migration line, professionals in business, the social sciences, medicine, in disproportionate numbers, are now embracing migration opportunities in the strong hope of personal development. The magnitude of the flow is reflected in recent statistics issued in the Economic and Social Survey, Jamaica 2000. For the period 1996 to 2000, the main migration figures from Jamaica were as follows:

YEAR USA CANADA UK TOTAL

1997	17840	2396	260	20496
1998	15146	2217	325	17688
1999	23300	2331	307	25938
2000	18320	2447	353	21120

Thus, in the last four years 85,242 nationals of Jamaica have departed for the three major destinations, with some 74,606 heading directly to the United States of America, a country with which we have a rather peculiar love-hate relationship.

This migration pattern ­ which, in large measure is a continuation of historical trends ­ has certain well-known consequences for Jamaica. On the positive side, remittances from metropolitan centres help to bolster the country's balance of payments figures, and assist thousands of Jamaicans to cope with economic hardships. (For these reasons more needs to be said about remittances in the Economic and Social Survey).

Still on the positive side, the prospect of migration allows many Jamaicans to live in hope. For years, we have witnessed the benefits of international 'exposure' among our contemporaries; some migrants accumulate refinement and sophistication; and some, in the process of what the Americans like to call 'self-actualisation', also gather the rose-buds of financial success. It is not accidental that Jamaicans in Florida are counted among the most successful migrants: the Jamaican who fails to succeed in North America is still wont to believe that (s)he is letting down the relatives and friends at home.

The opportunity

But, of course, the opportunity to migrate also carries numerous disadvantages. To note the most obvious: migration normally involves, at least in the initial stages, a breakdown in the family bond, in a society which already treats the concept of family as a peculiar abstraction in some respects. For many children then, migration has meant a rapid transmutation from my mother who fathered me, through my grandmother who guided me, on to the barrel which fed me.

In this environment, migration has meant the evaporation of adolescent years, and limited exposure to gentle aspects of life, for many children left behind. Given, too, that the migration pattern recorded above is essentially driven by economic forces, migration has also helped to foster the concept of the Almighty Dollar. Here, the point is not that persons who migrate are necessarily placing money above other features of life; for many who travel have no viable alternative, or are, in fact, making the most rational decision available.

At the same time, however, their departure for perceived 'greener pastures' helps to engender a cultural context in which access to money is given much greater importance than other aspects of life. As noted above, our broad pattern of migration has long-standing roots. One factor that has been open to discussion (at least since the 1970s) concerns the proportion of professional and highly skilled persons among the population of migrants. This is a somewhat invidious consideration; it allows us to examine migrants largely by reference to class factors, but it may be misleading because one's level of contribution to the national economy is a function of numerous elements, including class.

Nonetheless, the distinctions may be helpful from the point of view of planning. For example, if an increasing number of university graduates is migrating, this may well say something about the lack of co-ordination between specialist educational opportunities, on the one hand, and the needs of the economy, on the other.

Unemployment

And, in this regard, other figures published in the Economic and Social Survey, Jamaica 2000 should give rise to special concern. More specifically, according to this publication, almost 20 per cent of the first-degree graduates from 1998 are unemployed, while 11 or 12 per cent from 1999 are suffering the same fate. These figures hardly do justice to the nature and magnitude of the problem: in essence, the statistics mean that hundreds, if not thousands of university graduates now face frustration, anger and feelings of inadequacy on a daily basis. They have obeyed the rules about succeeding in life, but those rules have changed, leaving them stranded in mid-stream, with qualifications that count for little in an economy where growth is still elusive.

In this context, many graduates must now consider migration; and, unless they undertake further studies in the metropole, they are apt to find that the average American employer will treat them, initially at least, with scant regard. After all these years, Jamaican first degrees are still not given equal status by most Americans even as against degrees from Sidestreet University, Smallville, USA.

All of this is a potent mixture for confusion. People migrate to survive, but they leave their children behind often without adequate supervision. Others migrate to avoid unemployment, but end up taking jobs that do not fully reflect their educational and professional attainments. But, we are a resilient people; we struggle with snow, racism, cultural alienation, and we save enough to buy a home, back home, in Jamaica. We come home, ready to relax in our later years, with the fruits of our labour. Then, one hour after arrival, some mad murderer turns a gun upon us.

Stephen Vasciannie, an attorney-at-law, teaches at the University of the West Indies.

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