“The worst thing that could happen to us but unfortunately they have nowhere to go”: Colombian students’ contradictory views on Venezuelan migration, democratic crisis, and xenophobia
Venezuelan students crossing the Puente Internacional Internacional Simón Bolívar (bridge) to access schools in Colombia. Taken by Marcela Ortiz.
by Michelle J. Bellino and Marcela Ortiz Guerrero
11 february 2024
The ongoing political and socioeconomic crisis in Venezuela has led to one of the largest movements of refugees and migrants across Latin America and the Caribbean. Recent figures estimate that 7.7 million Venezuelans have left their country of origin. Colombia, which shares a 2,000 km long border with Venezuela, has received the highest number of Venezuelan migrants, hosting an estimated 2.9 million people. For the most part, this group of migrants are not classified as refugees. Only a small number of Venezuelans have filed asylum claims to seek international protection, yet the magnitude of the crisis led UNHCR to create a separate category to identify “Venezuelans displaced abroad.” (In 2022, UNHCR introduced the category “other people in need of international protection,” which now includes Venezuelans.)
In a recent study, we explore the views of more than 3,000 Colombian secondary students across 45 public schools located in Bogotá. We ask, what do young people attending school in Colombia understand about the Venezuelan crisis driving migration, and how do they feel about how their country has responded? We find that Colombian students understand Venezuelan migration in divergent ways. Some displayed empathy as they imagined the conditions that Venezuelans were fleeing, recognizing that this was a forced migration, as “they have had to come to Colombia, not because they want to.” Others placed blame on Venezuelans for “fleeing the country rather than staying to fight” or for not taking responsibility for their political decisions, emphasizing, “they destroyed their country, it’s their problem, not ours.” However, on its own, understanding the nature of Venezuelans’ transborder movement as involuntary was not sufficient to support inclusive views. Students at both extremes—those who perpetuate xenophobic racism, as well as those who resist these narratives—remind us of the urgent need for open dialogue about global migration and the critical role that schools can play in bringing diverse people and ideas together.
Colombia’s welcome
Colombia has taken steps to expand and strengthen their protection system. By November 2020, in an effort to prevent statelessness, the government had issued 47,000 birth certificates to children of Venezuelan parents born in Colombia. In 2021, it launched a ten-year Temporary Protection Statute for Venezuelan Migrants. Recently, it adjusted its normative frameworks and education management and information systems in order to uphold the right to education for children on the move. Though critical integration gaps remain, authorized status and documentation for refugees and migrants have facilitated increased access to basic services such as education. This favorable environment towards migration is valued by young people in this study. Approximately 12% of student responses included appreciation for, or pride in, Colombia’s welcoming response to Venezuelan migrants. Students reported positive sentiments such as, “Colombia has acted in a good way,” and “I feel very strongly that the Colombian government lends its support to Venezuelan immigrants.” Others applauded Colombia’s welcome, while adding conditions such as limitations on population size or their duration of stay, such as, “it seems good to me that Colombia helps Venezuela, but when their country is fixed, they should also return.”
Perceptions of threat
Yet admonitions that Colombia needed to welcome Venezuelans because it was “what is right” were readily expressed alongside fears and worries that migration was “destroying our country.” Perceived threats related to economic stability were the most frequently mentioned concerns relating to migration (~18%), followed by worries that migration increased insecurity and crime (~13%). A number of responses emphasized the “bad intentions” of Venezuelan migrants, characterizing their arrival as an “invasion.” A mere five (of more than 3,000 total responses) pointed to the positive potential or beneficial impact of migration on Colombia. Even these few recognitions that migrants bring cultural, linguistic, and economic resources were often couched within concerns about the overall negative impacts on the quality of life for Colombians, stressing the contradictions of integration.
Nationalism and state abandonment
Intense feelings of state abandonment arose in tandem with anti-migrant sentiments. Students juxtaposed the state’s neglect of Colombian citizens with what they perceived as rights and privileges offered to Venezuelan migrants. As one student explained, “the Colombian government has helped [migrants], but it has exceeded itself to the point of caring more about the citizens of another country than its own, leaving adrift all the problems that Colombia has.” Feelings that the state had not adequately dealt with domestic inequalities, including those rooted in and exacerbated by violent conflict, added to perceptions that Colombia was insufficiently stable to host such large numbers of migrants, and that migrants were destabilizing an already fragile environment and peace process. Several contrasted the government’s treatment of victims of the armed conflict to Venezuelans, “I think that the Colombian government has been quite unfair to the Colombian people... foreigners have been helped more in their crises than Colombians who have been affected by wars for years and have been cruelly displaced and exiled from their lands.” One student asked, “it is good to help, but who helps us?”
Rising xenophobia
Despite some recognition of the devastating nature of the Venezuelan crisis and the obligations engendered in human rights frameworks, there were references to Colombia having reached the threshold with the number of Venezuelans it could host. Students referenced Colombia as becoming “Venezuela 2.0,” insisting, “we have reached the limit.” Some drew on stereotypes of oversexualized Venezuelan women and girls, suggesting that pregnancies were strategic, to anchor connections to the Colombian state. In all capital letters, one student wrote, “I DON’T AGREE WITH GIVING IT [Colombian nationality] TO BABIES OR CHILDREN.” Across student responses, we classified 77 as expressions of open disdain for Venezuelans, casting migrants as “lazy,” “ignorant,” and “dirty.” More than a dozen students likened Venezuelans to “animals,” “dogs,” and “worms,” drew on persistent stereotypes that migrants carry disease, or resorted to extremely harmful language. These responses often co-occurred with calls for widespread deportation and expulsion.
Resisting xenophobia
Though some responses were laced with hatred, most students demonstrated complex, at times contradictory feelings. Some shared that they were working to make sense of their own internalized biases, while actively resisting negative discourse in the media and “opinions that I hear around me.” Several reflected on how they have changed their views on Venezuelans over time. As one student explained, “I have felt some xenophobia. But I try to keep in mind that they are human beings, that they have dreams, ideas, that they are like me and that they are not at all to blame for their situation.”
Relatedly, young people exhibited concerns about harmful xenophobic discourse and practices in Colombia, reflecting, “It is sad to see how people are suffering… but the intolerance that exists in Colombia towards them is even sadder.” Another worried, “Every day xenophobia increases in the country and this is an issue that has to be controlled at all costs.” Discrimination and xenophobia have worsened over the years, suggesting that Colombians’ initial welcoming response became more negative over time. In the midst of rising xenophobia, students wrestled with complicated feelings and their own internal contradictions as they held together feelings of compassion, worry, fear, and frustration.
Implications for education
Given these findings, it seems likely that Venezuelan students are navigating high levels of discrimination daily, and that xenophobic discourses and actions may manifest in school spaces. In surveys with Venezuelan migrant families in Colombia, experiences with, and fears of, discrimination and xenophobia are among the reasons why children do not attend school. Left uninterrupted, these views amongst Colombian students could contribute to school environments that are overtly hostile to Venezuelan migrants, resulting in further exclusions from educational and other community-building opportunities.
But it’s not all negative. These responses also show the efforts that young people make to resist harmful narratives about migrants, including from those in positions of power. They call on individuals and institutions to support the inclusion of Venezuelan migrants, and they add contextual, historical, and human complexity to the circumstances that have driven massive dislocation and which challenge migrants in Colombian host communities. Together, these responses suggest critical openings for curricular inquiry and dialogue in classrooms as opportunities to engage more directly with Colombian young people’s understandings, questions, and concerns about migration and changes taking place in their communities. These openings can build on empirical insights from studies demonstrating that language, classifications, and a deeper understanding of the drivers of displacement can influence attitudes towards migrants. Transnational identities and cross-border experiences can offer powerful entry points into collective learning and poignant critiques of democratic citizenship.
Too often, research on refugee and migrant students centers on the experiences of displaced peoples without sufficient acknowledgement of the contexts in which they are situated, including relationships to national citizens, with whom they learn and interact. Supporting displaced students’ experiences with integration and inclusion in national schools means we need to attend to the attitudes and discourses that circulate within schools and wider communities. It is also key to shaping citizens who are understanding, empathic, and who work to create inclusive societies in a context where transborder mobility will continue to add to diversity in and beyond schools.
Disclaimer: The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in this publication belong solely to the author(s) and do not necessarily represent those of REACH or the Harvard Graduate School of Education.
This blog is based on an article published by the Journal of Immigrant and Refugee Studies, DOI: 10.1080/15562948.2023.2228243.
For additional findings emerging from the full study, please see https://mjbellino.com/research/teaching-peace/ and https://deepblue.lib.umich.edu/handle/2027.42/175965.
About the Authors
Michelle Bellino is an Associate Professor at the University of Michigan Marsal FamilySchool of Education. Her research centers on youth civic development in contexts impacted by armed conflict and forced displacement. Across diverse settings, she explores how experiences with violence, asylum, and peace and justice processes influence young people’s participation in schools and society, future aspirations, as well as educational access and inclusion. You can read more about her research at https://mjbellino.com/
Marcela Ortiz is a doctoral candidate in Educational Studies at the University of Michigan. She is interested in the educational experiences of forcibly displaced children. Marcela's research seeks to understand what educational integration entails for immigrant and refugee children. She focuses on the role of policy, the perceptions of students and local communities, and the complexities of belonging. Marcela has worked as an education consultant for government agencies and international organizations, including UNESCO and the Inter-American Development Bank.