By Nuno da Silva Gonçalves SJ and Gianni Augello
Michael Schöpf was born in Germany and entered the Society of Jesus in 1989. He is a Jesuit brother. In 1993 he graduated from the Hochschule für Philosophie München.
Between 1993 and 1997 he worked in Africa on refugee projects in Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda and Rwanda. He worked with Misereor, the German Bishops’ Conference Migration Commission and Jesuiten Weltweit, the German Jesuit body for international solidarity.
In 2005 he joined the Jesuit Refugee Service (JRS) – Europe, in the Brussels office, where he served as deputy regional director until 2008, and then as regional director until 2014. In 2021 he began working in the JRS International Office in Rome, focusing on strategic planning, organizational development and global advocacy. Since Sep 1, 2023, he has been the international director of JRS.
In this interview with us, he reviews the origins of JRS and its current work in a particularly difficult context where, despite everything, we are called to be witnesses of hope.
He concludes with a poignant and highly topical question: “Do we want to live in a society marked by an inability to recognize human dignity and a refusal to accept the bonds that unite us to others?”
We thank Brother Schöpf and are pleased to share our conversation with readers.
Brother Michael Schöpf, after two years as deputy director, you became the international director of the Jesuit Refugee Service in the summer of 2023. Will you share with us your journey in the years leading up to these assignments in Rome?
I am a Jesuit brother from Germany, from the Central European Province. I first started working with JRS in 1993. My first assignments were all in Africa, but I knew nothing about Africa or refugees. It was a typical assignment given by a provincial for an initial training period.
So I began working in Nairobi on a program to promote economic independence for refugees escaping civil war in neighboring countries. We had about 30 small projects scattered throughout the poorest areas of Nairobi and one store. When I arrived, I was very curious and I must say I felt at home right away. I discovered that it was really easy to make a difference. I remember, for example, a Rwandan woman in her 40s. She had fled violence in her country and was a very good baker, but in Nairobi she didn’t have the equipment to open a bakery. She had a good potential market because no one was actually baking Rwandan bread in the city, and so it was really easy to help her get back on her feet and allow her to determine her own future. With very little you can make a big difference, if you begin to recognize not only the needs but also the hopes and aspirations of people.
Later I received other assignments. I had the opportunity to work in refugee camps in eastern Tanzania after the genocide in Rwanda. I returned to Rwanda and, for a short time, also to northern Uganda, on the border with Sudan. After that I had a break and then a “second life” with JRS, working for 10 years, from 2005 to 2014, in the European regional office. Four years ago, I started working here in Rome at the international office. Obviously, from the beginning, it involved much greater responsibility, because we are dealing with a much wider variety of situations.
JRS was created in 1980 by Father Pedro Arrupe, then Superior General of the Society of Jesus. What circumstances led him to take this initiative and how has JRS developed as an apostolic work of the Society of Jesus? Almost 45 years after the birth of JRS, are Father Arrupe’s intuitions still valid?
Father Pedro Arrupe’s intuitions are more relevant today than ever before. In 1980 he asked Jesuits to respond to the crisis of Vietnamese boat people, who were fleeing from Vietnam to the Philippines and elsewhere across the ocean, exposing themselves to grave danger. He knew that, in that crisis, our humanity was at stake. Regarding that situation, he declared: “We can’t just stand by and watch.” He added that it was not just about providing emergency relief or food aid in the Philippines. “We can do all that,” he said, “but what we really have to do is live together with the people.” On this basis, Father Arrupe wrote a letter to the entire Society of Jesus. He could have simply addressed it, for example, to the German Province, asking, “Send your money,” or to the U.S. Provinces, saying, “Send your English teachers, since many refugees are being relocated to the United States.” But he felt that this was not enough.
Father Arrupe involved the whole Society of Jesus because he felt deeply that this was not simply the problem of a few thousand Vietnamese, but an issue that concerned us as members of the human race. It was in fact an appeal to humanity. So it was not just a local problem. I think this is a really important lesson for us today as well. Pope Francis has recalled these themes often, making numerous references and comments on this fundamental challenge in today’s crises, both trying to engage global political support and saying that this situation cannot be understood without responding to the call to solidarity, to global solidarity.
Today we are working in 58 countries, where every day we are called to accompany people on a stage of their journey and to recognize how our humanity and global politics are being challenged by this experience.
If we consider such a complex international geopolitical situation, where are the protracted refugee situations today seemingly without predictable solutions, or the forgotten ones?
Those who want to consider a protracted situation can look at one of the oldest refugee camps in northern Kenya, called “Kakuma.” It was started in a semi-arid area, which means there are very few opportunities to earn a living. For example, it is almost impossible to cultivate land or plant a garden, and at this stage we are already talking about the second or third generation of children born and raised inside the camp, while their legal status remains suspended. Those people have no legal right to move to other parts of Kenya. The situation lingers on because there are no obvious solutions. The camp, meanwhile, has grown into a large city, with all the elements one would expect to encounter in an urban center, but also with all the limitations associated with a refugee camp.
If I think instead of a forgotten situation, I think the most revealing case is Myanmar. We are present in several places in that country, where we have accompanied communities that have been bombed, often several times, by their own government through military action. One image I will never forget involves one of our schools. Children, together with their teachers, had been displaced by the bombing. Classes were held in a trench covered with simple plastic sheeting. To make it a little more cozy for the children, paper drawings had been hung on the walls. That had become their classroom. The pupils sat on the floor, intent on their work as if they were in a normal classroom, as if everything was normal. In these situations, it is very important to be present and engage with the community.
Who are the people who work for JRS? How do they prepare, and to what extent are Jesuits present?
Today we have a global budget of about $100 million; about 10,000 people cooperate with us. Among them, 3,500 are refugees who work with us like any other staff members. There is also a large group of 4,000-4,500 volunteers, a group of about 100 religious – including 78 Jesuits – and a group of 3,000-3,500 people with various regular employment contracts.
I believe that the presence of Jesuits, although numerically minimal compared to the rest, is very important because of the vital link it maintains with the Society of Jesus. Jesuits who experience this path of accompaniment are then able to pass on its spiritual fruits, incorporating them into the reflection of the apostolic body of the Society, and vice versa. The inspiration we receive, of course, comes from Ignatian spirituality, through the Jesuits and lay collaborators of JRS.
JRS is also present in large decision-making centers, engaging in advocacy. What role do you play in these contexts? Is your voice and testimony being heard by institutions?
We are a recognized organization at the United Nations. We have representation in Geneva and offices in Washington, Brussels, Nairobi and other strategic places. The goal of our advocacy work is actually very simple: to give voice to refugees in the places where decisions affecting their lives are made. Too often, in fact, decision-making mechanisms are far removed from direct experiences and what happens in people’s everyday lives. Transmission work is therefore needed. The goal is to change political or social conditions so that people can obtain protection, participate in the societies in which they live, and make decisions about their lives.
Most of the advocacy work is done at the local level. If conditions in the Kakuma camp are to be changed, there is a need for dialogue with the Kenyan government. On the other hand, there are also issues that need to be addressed at the regional level – as in the case of the European Union, where legislation is drafted on a supranational level – or at the global level, where the way education and emergency situations are handled is decided by a United Nations body. Therefore, it is essential that we have a presence in such forums.
In recent years, we have witnessed a sharp tightening of policies, with a series of measures that have made migration increasingly restricted. However you want to read it, this is the current trend. Traditionally, it was possible to have a discussion, based on facts, about what might be the best solution. Perhaps there were different opinions, but discussion was possible. Today that space for dialogue is shrinking rapidly. If you look at the most recent debates, one argument being made by many countries is, “We no longer accept asylum seekers at our borders, as a matter of principle. If we want to be generous, we can provide a humanitarian quota. But let’s abolish the individual right to asylum.” That is why I expect that in the coming years the political environment and the very basis of our advocacy work will undergo a radical change. Who can provide protection when the law alone is no longer sufficient?
Since 2015, more than 2.7 million people have crossed the Mediterranean Sea, fleeing war, violence and poverty in the hope of a better life in Europe. Since then, at least 31,087 migrants have lost their lives trying to cross the Mediterranean. How do you see the situation?
In Europe, migration perhaps sometimes appears less violent than what is happening in other parts of the world today, but it is going in exactly the same direction. We have come to an impasse where, for example, we have ended up accepting people dying in the Mediterranean because it is easier to turn and look the other way.
Pope Francis has been very clear in stressing the importance of human love, which is not “a concentric expansion of interests,” as he wrote in his letter to the U.S. bishops, but a universal love, which cannot be delimited by one’s own interests. Solidarity does not follow the path of self or group interest. The question before us today is: Do we want to live in a society marked by an inability to recognize human dignity and a refusal to accept the bonds that unite us to others? This, in my opinion, is the challenge before us.
Does it seem to you that the current policy proposals correspond to the desires of peoples?
Current policy proposals seem to lead us to believe that this is what the population desires. In our direct experience, however, we often see the opposite. A significant example comes to us from France. Many years ago, we were confronted in this nation with a situation in which asylum seekers were living on the streets, despite being entitled to public housing. We wondered what to do. The typical response of an NGO would have been, “Let’s open a shelter for the most vulnerable, to at least help some.” But we realized that that was not the best solution, because it would help only a few. So we decided to suggest something different: to ask Parisians – and then French citizens in general – to host a refugee in their homes for three months. At first it was very difficult. We received answers like: “I’m sorry, with all the good will I can’t do it. I can’t even imagine it. What if I put my children in danger?”
Thus many practical questions arose, dictated by concerns and, of course, lack of experience and knowledge. We realized that it was necessary to accompany both families and refugees to enter this space, and we discovered that the work of JRS is not so much about providing a solution directly, but about contributing to it by making it possible for others to offer it. A year later we had a meeting with the families and refugees involved, and we heard testimonies like this: “We never thought we would succeed, but it was a very enriching experience. We found out that the person sitting on our couch next to our children was not a poor vagrant, but was an excellent and well-known Iranian photographer, who very kindly taught our children how to use a camera during those three months.”
In my opinion, this example shows not only the value of accompaniment in the spirit of JRS, but also the fact that many people are willing to engage in hospitality and support. They do not want to live in a world where human rights and solidarity are erased, because they know that, sooner or later, they too would become victims. Today, in France, there are many groups, whether or not linked to JRS, that continue to promote this form of hospitality, which has spread to many cities across the country. We ask ourselves: What is the next step we can take as an organization? I am thinking in particular of one question: How can we take this experience from the private to the political sphere? Why couldn’t a person who had a positive experience become an effective city councillor or a person capable of guiding and giving direction to the community? We experienced the same thing, for example, with Syrian refugees who came to Germany after 2015. There are so many possible positive experiences. In our work, we always find people who do not want to live in a society set on the road to destruction. In Europe today, our challenge is to make the alternative visible, to create spaces that foster solidarity. We must help overcome fear and seize opportunities even in contexts that face scarcer resources. Human dignity does not depend on the availability of euros or dollars.
Did the cut in funding to USAID have any impact on JRS projects?
We, at JRS, have never received funds from USAID, but we have had a lot of funding from the Bureau of Population, Refugees, and Migrants of the State Department, i.e., the U.S. Department of Foreign Affairs, to support refugee projects. The system was the same. We had nine projects underway in as many countries, with a total annual budget of $18 million, which were cancelled overnight. On January 24, we received a letter from the U.S. government saying, “You must stop your projects as of today. They are suspended as of this date , and you must confirm to us by Monday that you will comply with this injunction; in any case, no expenditure will be considered eligible for continued funding.”
What did this mean in practice? For example, in eastern Chad we run schools for tens of thousands of students. This meant that on Fridays the children would go home to their families, and the following Monday we would have to inform them that the school no longer existed. Or, another example: we were working in Iraq with the Yazidi community, which suffered genocide with every single one of its families being touched by that tragedy. We were working with them, offering mental health services, psychosocial support and, to some extent, psychiatric services. Even there, people would leave the activities on Friday, and the following Monday we would have to communicate to the whole community that “We can’t talk to you anymore.” The same thing happened to many other service organizations in various areas. These are the direct consequences of the suspension of funding.
Of course, we had to send the suspension confirmation for those nine projects by the following Monday. To date, seven of them are not only suspended but closed outright. In the case of the other two – in Colombia and South Sudan – we have been told to resume some activities under a new contract that is being finalized.
When we received that letter on January 24, we immediately responded that obviously we could not close a school overnight. How would that have been possible? There are first of all legal issues: people who work with us are entitled to a notice period. Then there are moral issues: how can you do this when you have provided an opportunity for education, care and community development? Above all, there was the main issue: the breakdown of the relationship. How can we claim to be there to accompany refugees, and then disappear overnight? This is simply impossible. So we launched a global appeal to all the Provinces of the Society of Jesus, some foundations and our most loyal benefactors. Within two months we managed to raise about four million dollars, which enabled us to maintain some basic services. This is a great success, for which we are extremely grateful, but at the same time private funding cannot make up the shortfall.
I predict that in 2026 JRS will be able to offer services with a total value of about $70 million, instead of the usual $100 million. So we have a decrease of at least 30 percent. The main consequence does not affect the organization, although we have been forced to lay off hundreds of staff. The most serious fallout is on the refugees, on those we will see die, on those who will lose fundamental protection opportunities, on those who can no longer build a future for themselves. In recent months we have experienced cuts by the U.S. government, but we are observing similar developments in some European governments, which are reducing the grants earmarked for global solidarity.
The current situation calls for the search for new partners. In what directions is JRS moving? What efforts are underway?
Last year, when we drew up our new global strategic plan, we were aware that a situation like the current one might occur. In the final phase, in September 2024, we carried out foresight planning and scenario-based planning. The key question we were asking in this regard was, “What will refugee protection look like in 2050? What possible scenarios are looming?” This was not a prediction exercise, but a reflection to identify the dominant factors. The first task we posed to the participants – a group of 35 people, half from JRS and half from donor agencies, NGOs, academia, and other sectors – was: “Identify the two most important factors that will influence the issue of protection.” By “most important” we meant those factors that will carry the most weight and result in the greatest uncertainty. Of the six parallel working groups we had formed, five identified these two factors: the development of public opinion and the changing political landscape. We then asked them to construct a scenario that we thought could be realized within a few years. We were amazed to find that all the major elements we had identified did indeed play a crucial role in the political changes that took place between January and February.
However, we also reflected on possible responses. In a scenario where the state no longer protects people, the second best form of protection is community. We already see this in many of the places where we operate. It is not an ideal situation, because you cannot legally claim your rights. But a community has many strengths that, even in a situation of extreme fragility, while not guaranteeing you a right, can offer you a space to continue living and building your future. The second answer is: even in a world like this, we must never give up claiming individual rights, because we do not want to live in a society that is no longer based on respect for rights. Finally, we must do everything we can to strengthen the ability of refugees and migrants to take the initiative.
In this scenario, states become the cause of disorder and are no longer the guarantors of order and, as we have already seen, limit the ability for humanitarian action based on human dignity, fraternity and solidarity to a minimum level. It is clear that we need to create new coalitions, much broader than the ones we have today, since the current partnerships will become ineffective. In my opinion, the Church has an important role to play in creating such alliances between nongovernmental organizations, academia, religious communities and other civil society bodies. This is a partnership founded on trust, based on the conviction that we do not want to live in a destructive world and that we wish to offer an alternative future.
We are in the Jubilee Year, with the theme of hope at the center. In this scenario, are there reasons to hope?
This is a very simple question. One can make oneself a victim of an agenda of despair in many ways, either because one has the feeling that it is all too much, that it is overwhelming, and we all experience this feeling, myself included. There are days when I think it would be better to live in a different reality. I understand people in our societies who say, “I want to get rid of this problem because it’s too big. Let’s make refugees invisible; let’s make it illegal to apply for protection.” But this is only a temptation, for reality does not change. You can also claim that you yourself are struggling, struggling every day, living a life full of deprivation, and therefore you cannot share your resources. How could you also take on the needs of others? One could give in to the counsel of despair for another reason as well: because one perceives that not only the dominant narrative, but also the scenario that fuels hatred and destruction is so powerful that it seems unstoppable. One may come to think, “I have no ability to oppose this. I wish it were different, but I can’t do anything about it.” Then there is a third possibility: to do what the Gospel calls us to. The Gospel does not tell us, “Create hope.” It does not tell us, “Believe in a different future that will come one day.” It does tell us: “Be witnesses of hope.” This is possible today, with the people who are generous, with the families who have taken in a refugee for three months, even amidst fear and uncertainty, and who have had a positive experience during that time; with the entrepreneur who says, “I don’t just need a workforce, I have a person in front of me, and I want to offer this person a new home, a new community.” We are different because we are witnesses of hope. We have to make this the focus of our action.
DOI: https://doi.org/10.32009/22072446.0625.4
. Cf. Unicef, Rifugiati e migranti in Europa (www.unicef.it/emergenze/rifugiati-migranti-europa).
. Cf. Francis, Letter to the Bishops of the United States of America, February 10, 2025 (https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/letters/2025/documents/20250210-lettera-vescovi-usa).
