An Englishman's Home is his Castle: The Syrian Refugee Crisis

The refugee crisis that's been brewing over the past few years/months/weeks (depending on which media one's been following) has seemingly exploded into the wider public consciousness this week. Though this included the images of thousands of refugees leaving Hungary on a march to Austria, the crisis has largely become unignorable due to the press coverage of Aylan Kurdi, a Syrian toddler found drowned on a beach. The coverage of the tragedy is one of those incredibly rare moments where a single photograph can seemingly shift the entire public discourse.

Of course, it shouldn't have come to this. It shouldn't have taken a dead toddler washing up on a beach for the British public to find their sense of compassion. Such was the scale of the swing in public opinion, even David Cameron U-turned on his previous position (the 'why should we care?' approach) and announced the Britian would be accepting thousands more refugees.

And yet, we're still in a position where many are vocally opposed to any greater increase. We've seen a rehashing of the same tired arguments against immigration; though we'd love to help, services/infrastructure are already stretched beyond breaking point, and there simply isn't any room for these refugees here.

The argument is as fatuous as it is popular. Are our public services currently stretched? Absolutely. But the reason our public services are struggling to cope because they've been summarily decimated by unnecessary spending cuts pursued for entirely ideological gains. The Conservative administration slashes budgets to the point where public organisations can barely cope, and then point and say "Look how ineffective these public bodies are! This is proof that we need privatisation!"

Anyway, that is a different argument. The fact that we often appear unwilling to overlook the trivial impact on funding when faced with the urgent need to save human life is an embarrassment, and demonstrates a complete abdication of moral responsibility. We are not on our knees as a country. We have the fifth largest economy in the world. We have not been threatened with war for more than 70 years. We ourselves codified many of the international laws on asylum and refugees. The fact that we would proclaim our country unable to help is a lie; we could, easily- but we don't want to.

The trouble is, our status as an island nation has imbued us with a false sense of exceptionalism. The English Channel might only be 16 miles wide, but it's far enough so that we can look across at Europe (literally, on a good day) and say that what transpires across the water is not our problem. We believe that we can raise the drawbridge to our castle and ignore whatever may transpire beyond our walls.

If nothing else, it's a missed opportunity. If we cannot operate out of the shame of letting people die whilst we sit idle during the trials of those less fortunate, then we should at least do something to demonstrate our compassion, pride, and tolerance as a nation. Compare our response with other countries, where nations far less privileged than us are taking in many times the number of displaced refugees that we are. Look at Germany, where many people have embraced the refugees with food, shelter, and open arms.

Regardless of other countries, we should be doing more. If we ever did live in a castle, that time is long gone. We need to accept that in the 21st Century, we live in a global village where boundaries are broken, and people and ideas are more connected than they have ever been before. We cannot simply  turn our backs on those at our door who come seeking refuge.