From Scottsbluff to South Sioux City, thousands of Nebraskans are living in fear of being forced back to the countries they once escaped. These aren’t strangers. They’re our business owners, educators, medical professionals, children’s classmates and friends.
Throughout human history, people have moved when violence erupts, when persecution threatens, when staying means death. After witnessing the deadly consequences of turning away those fleeing for their lives, nations came together after World War II to establish asylum as a fundamental human right.
Years earlier, several countries including the United States, refused to accept over 900 Jewish refugees. Forced to return to Europe, nearly a third of them died in the Holocaust. We made asylum part of our law because we vowed “never again.” This wasn’t a partisan choice — it was a moral imperative.
Nebraska heeded the call. In 1948, our state created the Committee on Resettlement of Displaced Persons, leading the country in refugee resettlement. While Congress debated whether to even accept refugees, we were already preparing to welcome them.
Our state’s story is a refugee story, written neighborhood by neighborhood. In the 19th Century, German Russians fled persecution to farm our plains. In South Omaha, Lithuanian refugees established vibrant communities after WWII. Following the Vietnam War, Vietnamese families revitalized our main streets. Each wave of refugees has strengthened Nebraska.
Today, we continue to lead the nation in refugee arrivals per capita. Meanwhile, the moral imperative hasn’t changed.
What has seemed to change is our country’s willingness to see the humanity in those seeking safety. While the U.S. once led the world in welcoming refugees — accepting more than all other nations combined — our resolve to this commitment is being tested.
Every day at The Center for Immigrant and Refugee Advancement (CIRA), we help refugees and asylum seekers fleeing violence and persecution. They are among the estimated 140,000 immigrants living in Nebraska, many who have spent decades building lives in our communities.
They didn’t want to leave their homes. They had to.
Refugees and asylum seekers share dreams we all recognize: staking a future on a solid education, building a business that they can pass down, watching children grow up with more opportunity than they had, in a community they can call home. These are the hopes that connect us in Nebraska — hopes that can be shattered overnight.
While the refugee program itself is under attack, a larger threat looms: plans for mass deportation that would immediately reshape our communities. It could separate an estimated 27,700 Nebraska children — U.S. citizens — from a family member. These children shouldn’t have to wonder if tonight is the last one they spend with a parent, grandparent or sibling.
Some might say, “They should come legally.” But for many asylum seekers, there is no line to wait in, no form to fill out, no “right way” to come. When your child is in danger, when your family is threatened, when staying means death, you run.
This is what our asylum laws recognize: Sometimes, human beings must flee to survive. CIRA remains focused on what matters most: protecting human dignity. That means protecting people’s fundamental right to seek safety.
Behind every polarizing debate involving immigration and refugees are human beings who fled for their life. How we treat our neighbors today will define who we are as Nebraskans tomorrow.
That’s not politics. That’s our legacy.