Latest news with #AlanKurdi
National Post
11-07-2025
- Politics
- National Post
Terry Glavin: Time for Canada to step up again to help the Syrian people
It's been nearly a full decade since the photograph of a dead refugee child on a Turkish beach caused the world to stop in its tracks and focus its fleeting attention on the 21st century's most obscene humanitarian catastrophe. In that one picture, in an instant, the dismemberment of Syria, which by then had been underway for four years, became suddenly comprehensible. Article content Article content Barely two years old, little Alan Kurdi had drowned along with his mother, Rihan, and his brother, Galib, when the overcrowded boat they were travelling in capsized en route to the Greek island of Kos on Sept. 2, 2015. Before the year was over another million refugees had boarded makeshift boats to make the journey to Europe to escape Bashar Assad's barrel bombs, Vladimir Putin's air force and Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi's throat-slitting jihadists. Article content Article content Article content As things quickly turned out, the Kurdis had been making their way to Canada. Owing to the efforts of Alan's aunt, a Coquitlam hairdresser, the plight of the Kurdi family had already been brought to the attention of the authorities in Ottawa, so the tragedy of the boy on the beach became something of a Canadian scandal. Auntie Teema was hoping to sponsor the family but they'd been stuck in Turkey, which isn't a signatory to the UN Convention on Refugees. The approved version of events was that Ottawa's hands were tied, so that's why the Kurdis ended up in a rickety boat. Article content It was a complicated story, but because a federal election was underway the tragedy tended to be rendered as a simple moral tale. Although the refugee policies of all three federal parties were practically indistinguishable by the time voters went to the polls on Oct. 19 that year, Justin Trudeau's Liberals had most loudly championed the cause of Syrian refugees, which was enthusiastically taken up by Canadians. Refugee resettlement became central to the Liberal brand. Article content Article content Even though only slightly more than half of the 100,000 Syrian refugees who eventually settled in Canada were government-sponsored, it's still all to the good. Ottawa has spent more than $4.7 billion on humanitarian assistance for Syrians over the past decade, and $100 million more recently. Canada also spearheaded the dramatic clandestine rescue of more than 400 first responders of the 'White Helmets' organization from Southern Syria, with the assistance of the Israel Defence Forces, in 2018.
CBC
26-06-2025
- General
- CBC
I didn't know what it meant to be Canadian until I saw a photograph that opened my eyes
This First Person column is written by Clare Currie, who lives in Cape Breton, N.S., and is part of a Canada Day series exploring what Canada means to people across this country. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ. Growing up in Cape Breton, I had a narrow idea of what "Canada" meant. Simple images came to mind — maple syrup, Peter Mansbridge and beavers. Who knew that a child born nearly 8,000 kilometres away would shift my understanding of my own country? I'd been watching the television one evening in September 2015 when the newscast showed a picture of Alan Kurdi, a Syrian refugee child whose body had washed up on a beach near Greece, lying face down in the sand and water. It was the most painful and unnatural thing I'd ever seen. My heart went out to that little boy as a mother. Until that moment, I'd been busy raising two sons, working as a nurse and living a comfortable, privileged life. Seeing that picture was the first time I felt real discomfort or guilt for having so much. I had taken my Canadian freedoms for granted. I'd never considered what it would be like for someone to take my home, my family, my treasured belongings and my world as I knew it. I remember telling my husband we needed to do something, but we had no idea where to start. I didn't know anything about Syria, so I started reading everything I could about Syrian culture and food, Islam, and what refugees from Syria might need. Cape Breton Island was a predominantly white community for most of my childhood and even in my adult years, so I had little experience to draw on. I only knew that a local community group would be helping to sponsor a Syrian family that planned to settle in Cape Breton, and more would come later. My mother had helped to resettle Vietnamese refugees to this country in the late 1970s, and she told me that was "the happiest time" of her life. When I told her I wanted to be part of the Syrian refugee crisis work, but didn't know where to turn, she said, "Don't worry about where it will come from. It will come." One strong island Cape Breton Island, for all its beauty, is remote and underresourced. People here have a history of economic struggle. But we're fiercely proud of our strength, our culture of friendliness and our desire to help each other out. I started collecting goods in my home with help from friends and family. They brought every single thing you could imagine a family might need — from bed frames to clothing to pots and blankets. My niece changed her university's Secret Santa party to invite everyone to donate personal items for the family, while my son's company also collected goods and money. Our local furniture store stepped in with tables, chairs, dressers and more. We all couldn't believe how it was coming together; everyone was doing something. I'll never forget driving down to the school where the two older children in the refugee family would eventually attend and seeing a huge "welcome" sign written in Arabic hung above the entrance. Knowing that the family would have left their family keepsakes behind, our town's photographer offered to take new family photos for them. Somehow, once empty apartments were turned into welcoming, cosy homes, ready for the families to make a new beginning. The day after the first family from Syria arrived, my husband Joe and I went to their apartment door, and nervously knocked. I carried with me a Post-it note with the word "Marhaban," which meant welcome or hello written on it. A beautiful yet timid young woman opened the door, and I handed the Post-it to her. She smiled and welcomed us in. Neither of us understood each other's languages, but with the use of Google Translate and lots of gesturing, we quickly began to communicate. The family included the mother, father, two daughters in elementary school and a toddler son. The father's brother, who is paraplegic and in a wheelchair, came with them too. I kissed and hugged each one of the family members, immediately feeling that they were my own. Later in the visit, the mother and I sneaked away to a quiet corner. I typed her a message to share with her own mother in Syria: "Tell your mother I can be your mother here if you want". She sent that to her mother, who responded, "Yes, that's a good idea." We cried together for a while, holding hands and kissing each other's cheeks like old friends. My husband, being the practical and quiet guy he is, hooked up the TV and found an episode of Mr. Bean. We all piled onto the bed and the floor and watched it together, laughing our heads off. We were family. I was never so happy in my life. The word "mom" has taken on a new meaning for me. Now I'm called mom not just by my own children, but I also feel like a mom to the children of other families we've helped resettle in this new country. They call me Clare, but wish me every Mother's Day. There's plenty of love to go around. A few years later, the first family we'd helped resettle in our area left for Ontario for work. The friends I made in Cape Breton as part of the refugee sponsor group were also there on the day they left. We all cried our hearts out as we waved goodbye, wishing them good luck on the next step of their journey here. In 2025, being a Canadian woman to me means looking out for our neighbours, leaning into differences in culture, religious practices and learning how to help others in need. Because we are not different at all. We are all just looking for safety and peace. It's our Canadian values of equality, respect and freedom in action. It is the singular privilege of my life to walk alongside these families from Cape Breton and those who are newcomers to Canada. It's changed how I live, and I intend to do this work as long as I am able. I learn from them grace, service, faith and hope. They taught me how to be a Canadian.
Japan Times
24-06-2025
- Politics
- Japan Times
Hard EU line on migration rose from the ashes of compassion
A decade ago, the image of a 3-year-old Syrian boy washed up dead on a Turkish beach prompted an outpouring of emotion and renewed commitments from European governments to take in refugees fleeing Syria's brutal civil war. Alan Kurdi drowned alongside his mother and brother when a rubber dinghy headed for Greece sank off the coast of Turkey in September 2015. A decade later, thousands of people escaping hardship, conflict and climate disasters still risk their lives on similarly perilous boat journeys to Europe. But the reception they might get has changed. Ten years ago, the European Union vowed as one to prevent further loss of life at sea. Now, keeping migrants out is the key goal, as governments play to right-leaning voters. Rights groups and policy experts say the future for these people is becoming even more precarious as the EU looks set to further harden its restrictions on migration. "All of this started in 2015, and measures are getting even stricter," said Josephine Liebl, head of advocacy at the European Council on Refugees and Exiles (ECRE), an alliance of nongovernmental organizations. Last year, the EU overhauled its rules with a new Pact on Asylum and Migration that aims to limit irregular entry to the bloc and speed the asylum process. "For people arriving in Europe, it will become more difficult to access an asylum procedure in the first place and for that procedure to actually assess their claim fairly," Liebl said. The arrival of an unprecedented 1 million refugees in 2015 sparked a crisis in the EU, which over the last decade has attempted to reform its asylum system to ease the burden on front line states such as Greece and Italy. A member of the European Border and Coast Guard Agency points as his colleague uses binoculars during a patrol near the Albania-Greece border, in Kapshtica near Korce, Albania, in July 2019. | reuters At the same time, anti-immigrant feeling has gained momentum, encouraged by the rise of the far right. The bloc has also increasingly sought to push the problem beyond its borders, making deals with third countries and reinforcing its physical and legal entry points. 'Golden age of solidarity' Even before Kurdi died, his image galvanizing the bloc, a shipwreck that claimed the lives of over 600 people in April 2015 had driven migration to the top of the EU's policy agenda. Then, the bloc's main aims were not far off what they are today: fighting people traffickers, preventing illegal migration and reinforcing solidarity across the bloc. But the EU also pledged emergency aid to front line states receiving the most refugees and tripled its funding of naval missions to strengthen rescue operations in the Mediterranean. In 2020, when the EU reaffirmed its support to border countries, it emphasized bolstering border guard capabilities — not humanitarian aid. Berna Turam, a researcher at Northeastern University in Boston, said there was "a golden age of solidarity" pre-2019, when compassion outweighed anti-immigrant, populist forces. Europeans felt sympathy for refugees camping in their public squares and strong grassroots movements tempered the xenophobic narratives, her research found. "The main change between then and now is the perception of (migrants) as criminals, potential terrorists and people who are going to destroy order and stability," said Turam. "The mood changed because of EU policies criminalizing people at the borders." Turning point In 2016, the EU pledged €3 billion ($3.45 billion) to support Syrians — then also poured money into strengthening surveillance tech and support for its border agency Frontex. Under a deal that year, Turkey agreed to take back migrants and refugees who cross irregularly into Greece from its shores. The islands effectively became a holding pen for refugees and migrants, barred from advancing their EU asylum claims and restricted to a camp life lived in limbo. "Because these people got confined it suggested they were criminals," said Turam. As the EU continued to enlist the help of non-EU countries, plying North African nations with kit and training to keep migrants out, fear spread — and with it, support for political parties that talked tougher on migration. The far-right vote Across Europe, voters have steadily shifted right. Far-right and populist parties have made gains in Italy, Finland, Croatia, Czech Republic, Sweden, Germany and Austria, as well as in the European Parliament. In Germany, the most popular country for asylum seekers since 2015, the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) won a record share of seats in February, becoming the biggest opposition party, and the new coalition government has pledged to crack down on migration. "It is normal for people to believe that the far right is doing well because of people's immigration positions, but the far-right vote is about economic insecurity and austerity," said Claire Kumar, who researches public attitudes toward migration at think tank ODI Europe. ODI's analysis of the European Social Survey, carried out every two years to measure beliefs across Europe, found attitudes toward migration as a whole were more negative after the 2008 financial crisis than after the 2015 migration crisis. Nonetheless, the far right's anti-immigrant rhetoric has kept the issue in the limelight, said Kumar. "[The EU] has adopted a narrative based on far-right discourse, and they've amplified it and allowed it to shape their policies and spending," said Kumar. Lawmakers are already proposing harsher policies and considering how to send people back, said Martha Roussou of the International Rescue Committee, a humanitarian aid organization. "Things will change for the worse," said Roussou.
New Straits Times
22-06-2025
- Politics
- New Straits Times
Hard EU line on migration rose from the ashes of compassion
A DECADE ago, the image of a 3-year-old Syrian boy washed up dead on a Turkish beach prompted an outpouring of emotion and renewed commitments from European governments to take in refugees fleeing Syria's civil war. Alan Kurdi drowned alongside his mother and brother when a rubber dinghy headed for Greece sank off the coast of Turkiye in September 2015. A decade later, thousands of people escaping hardship, conflict and climate disasters still risk their lives on similarly perilous boat journeys to Europe. But the reception they might get has changed. Ten years ago, the European Union vowed to prevent further loss of life at sea. Now, keeping migrants out is the key goal, as governments play to right-leaning voters. Rights groups and experts say the future for these people is becoming even more precarious as the EU looks set to harden restrictions on migration. "For people arriving in Europe, it will become more difficult to access an asylum procedure in the first place and for that procedure to actually assess their claim fairly," Josephine Liebl, head of advocacy at the European Council on Refugees and Exiles, an alliance of non-governmental organisations, said. The arrival of an unprecedented one million refugees in 2015 sparked a crisis in the EU, which over the last decade has attempted to reform its asylum system to ease the burden on frontline states such as Greece and Italy. At the same time, anti-immigrant feeling has gained momentum, encouraged by the rise of the far right. The bloc has also sought to push the problem beyond its borders, making deals with third countries and reinforcing its physical and legal entry points. Even before Kurdi died, a shipwreck that claimed the lives of over 600 people in April 2015 had driven migration to the top of the EU's policy agenda. Then, the bloc's main aims were not far off what they are today: fighting people traffickers, preventing illegal migration and reinforcing solidarity in the bloc. But the EU also pledged emergency aid to frontline states receiving the most refugees and tripled its funding of naval missions to strengthen rescue operations in the Mediterranean. In 2020, when the EU reaffirmed its support to border countries, it emphasised bolstering border guard capabilities — not humanitarian aid. Berna Turam, a researcher at Northeastern University in Boston, said there was "a golden age of solidarity" pre-2019, when compassion outweighed anti-immigrant, populist forces. "The mood changed because of EU policies criminalising people at the borders." In 2016, the EU pledged €3 billion to support Syrians. Then it also poured money into strengthening surveillance tech and support for border agency Frontex. Under a deal that year, Turkiye agreed to take back migrants and refugees who cross irregularly into Greece from its shores. The islands effectively became a holding pen for migrants, barred from advancing their EU asylum claims and restricted to a camp life lived in limbo. "Because these people got confined it suggested they were criminals," said Turam. As the EU continued to enlist the help of non-EU countries, plying North African nations with kit and training to keep migrants out, fear spread — and with it, support for political parties that talked tougher on migration. Across Europe, voters have steadily shifted right. Far-right and populist parties have made gains in Italy, Finland, Croatia, Czech Republic, Sweden, Germany and Austria, as well as in the European Parliament. "It is normal for people to believe that the far right is doing well because of people's immigration positions, but the far-right vote is about economic insecurity and austerity," said Claire Kumar, who researches public attitudes towards migration at think tank ODI Europe. ODI's analysis of the European Social Survey, carried out every two years to measure beliefs across Europe, found attitudes towards migration as a whole were more negative after the 2008 financial crisis than after the 2015 migration crisis. Lawmakers are already proposing harsher policies and considering how to send people back, said Martha Roussou of the International Rescue Committee, a humanitarian aid organisation. "Things will change for the worse," said Roussou.
Gulf Today
22-06-2025
- Politics
- Gulf Today
Compassion led to hard EU line on migration
A decade ago, the image of a three-year-old Syrian boy washed up dead on a Turkish beach prompted an outpouring of emotion and renewed commitments from European governments to take in refugees fleeing Syria's civil war. Alan Kurdi drowned alongside his mother and brother when a rubber dinghy headed for Greece sank off the coast of Turkey in September 2015, reported Reuters. A decade later, thousands of people escaping hardship, conflict and climate disasters still risk their lives on similarly perilous boat journeys to Europe. But the reception they might get has changed. Ten years ago, the European Union (EU) vowed as one to prevent further loss of life at sea. Now, keeping migrants out is the key goal, as governments play to right-leaning voters. Rights groups and policy experts say the future for these people is becoming even more precarious as the EU looks set to further harden its restrictions on migration, Reuters informed. 'All of this started in 2015, and measures are getting even stricter,' said Josephine Liebl, head of advocacy at the European Council on Refugees and Exiles (ECRE), an alliance of non-governmental organisations. Last year, the EU overhauled its rules with a new Pact on Asylum and Migration that aims to limit irregular entry to the bloc and speed the asylum process. 'For people arriving in Europe, it will become more difficult to access an asylum procedure in the first place and for that procedure to actually assess their claim fairly,' Liebl said. The arrival of an unprecedented 1 million refugees in 2015 sparked a crisis in the EU, which over the last decade has attempted to reform its asylum system to ease the burden on frontline states such as Greece and Italy, observed Reuters. At the same time, anti-immigrant feeling has gained momentum, encouraged by the rise of the far right. The bloc has also increasingly sought to push the problem beyond its borders, making deals with third countries and reinforcing its physical and legal entry points. Even before Kurdi died, his image galvanising the bloc, a shipwreck that claimed the lives of over 600 people in April 2015 had driven migration to the top of the EU's policy agenda. Then, the bloc's main aims were not far off what they are today: fighting people traffickers, preventing illegal migration and reinforcing solidarity across the bloc. But the EU also pledged emergency aid to frontline states receiving the most refugees and tripled its funding of naval missions to strengthen rescue operations in the Mediterranean. In 2020, when the EU reaffirmed its support to border countries, it emphasised bolstering border guard capabilities - not humanitarian aid. Berna Turam, a researcher at Northeastern University in Boston, said there was 'a golden age of solidarity' pre-2019, when compassion outweighed anti-immigrant, populist forces. Europeans felt sympathy for refugees camping in their public squares and strong grassroots movements tempered the xenophobic narratives, her research found. 'The main change between then and now is the perception of (migrants) as criminals, potential terrorists and people who are going to destroy order and stability,' said Turam. 'The mood changed because of EU policies criminalising people at the borders.' In 2016, the EU pledged 3 billion euros ($3.45 billion) to support Syrians - then also poured money into strengthening surveillance tech and support for its border agency Frontex. Under a deal that year, Turkey agreed to take back migrants and refugees who cross irregularly into Greece from its shores. The islands effectively became a holding pen for refugees and migrants, barred from advancing their EU asylum claims and restricted to a camp life lived in limbo.
