A Hell of Our Making

There is really very little to say. The images shown on the news these nights of people escaping war and certain death make me ashamed. Ashamed of being a European in a country whose leaders, along with the leaders of other European countries, do nothing more than say something must be done. But nothing is done, except the erection of more fences, and more hot air expended in meetings that bring about nothing while thousands are searching for a dream of an existence they once had but have lost. 

They have lost comfortable lives because of the intervention of the West in their countries. Because of our habits of colonialization. If not by taking over their countries, then by ignoring their customs and beliefs and insisting that our social systems become theirs. Because, of course, our systems are superior. Especially when those countries have resources vital to our systems. At all costs, our way of life must continue and we must have those resources to maintain it. And so we destroy their systems. And in doing so, destroy their comfortable lives and expect them to accept it. Because, of course, they must be liberated from an inferior way of life. 

And then, when they expend the energies and monies they have left in an effort to come to our lands that are in peace, where they can live under a system that was exalted and glorified as being the example to follow, we don't want them. We tell them we can't take them in; we have no way of helping them. Some of us tell them to go back to their own countries because they don't belong here. Others are scared of them because their belief system and customs are different. We condemn them to die in the ruins and wars that our interventions have brought about. All in name of making their lives better by installing our social systems in their countries. But their petroleum has always been welcome here. 

One dead child's photo, repeated in newspapers and news services, made leaders sit down and talk about accepting some refugees. But that's all that has been done. Talk. Meanwhile, thousands are still venturing onto the sea, trying to beat the winter that is upon us. But they will never beat the winter that is in men's hearts. Since that dead child appeared on the sands of a Turkish beach, over seventy more have died. There but for the grace of God go we. Because, except for the accident of birth, these children could be ours. These dead could be our brothers, our daughters, our wives, our fathers. They are our problem that we have made, they are our dead and our survivors. And if we had the temerity to cause the reasons for their running from hell, we have the obligation to take them in. Because we created this hell.