Strangers Among Us: What Our Cultures Reveal About How We See Others

There’s no single way to view a foreigner. Instead, there are countless filters — shaped by history, language, geography, and social narratives — through which societies interpret the presence of someone from elsewhere. But most of all, our perception depends on who that foreigner is. A tourist from Europe, a migrant worker, an international student, a refugee — they do not all carry the same symbolic weight. In many cultures, foreigners are silently sorted into categories, with each group met with varying degrees of hospitality, curiosity, suspicion, or indifference.

In some countries, a foreigner is first and foremost a guest. Take Senegal, where teranga — the ethic of hospitality — is a core social value. But even in such settings, how one is received can depend on origin. A European visitor may be seen as a bearer of prestige or opportunity, while a migrant from a neighboring West African country may be welcomed as kin, or viewed as silent competition in a strained economy.

In Lebanon, the idea of the foreigner is deeply familiar. This small country has long been a crossroads of cultures and diasporas. And yet, distinctions persist. A French-speaking expatriate might enjoy a form of social capital, while a domestic worker from South Asia or sub-Saharan Africa often faces a much harsher reality — sometimes reflected in law, more often in daily life. The same label — “foreigner” — can signify privilege in one case, and marginalization in another.

In other places, such as Japan, the difference is less about treatment and more about symbolic boundaries. Regardless of how long someone has lived there, or how fluent they are in Japanese, the gaijin remains outside the circle. Foreigners are treated with politeness, but not always seen as fully assimilable. Once again, nationality matters — some are linked to innovation or prestige, others to more ambiguous or wary stereotypes.

In France, the very word “étranger” carries historical weight. It evokes both the universalist ideals of the Republic and the nation’s deepest identity debates. A Swiss or Canadian foreigner rarely raises eyebrows — but a North African immigrant or Syrian refugee might trigger far more complex reactions. These unspoken distinctions shape access to housing, employment, and even the simple right to belong. There, being a foreigner is as much about origin and accent as it is about class and cultural legibility.

This hierarchy of foreignness isn’t exclusive to the West. It exists across the globe — in Asia, Latin America, and North Africa — rooted in colonial legacies, diplomatic ties, social constructs, and longstanding biases. Some foreigners symbolize promise. Others, threat. And in between lies a whole spectrum of fluid perceptions, where a passport, a skin tone, a name, or an accent can shift everything.

In the end, how a society views outsiders reveals less about them, and more about itself. Who is admired, who is feared, who is kept at arm’s length — these are mirrors. They reflect our fractures, our aspirations, our blind spots. And sometimes, if we look closely, our hopes for something different.