His Name Was Aylan

Back in September 2015, I was filled with horror and grief at the pictures in the news media of a little Syrian boy, dead on a beach in Greece. I immediately thought of my precious grandson, around the same age as the dead boy, and tried to imagine the grief I would feel if it were he on that beach. Although months have gone by, I have not forgotten the photograph of the toddler wearing a red shirt and shorts, lying face down in the sand. His name was Aylan Kurdi, and he was fleeing with his family (father, mother, older brother) from war-torn Syria, when their boat capsized near Bodrum, a Turkish resort town (Smith, 2015). Only his father, Abdullah, survived. News of other refugee deaths at sea followed. We were bombarded daily throughout the fall by news reports about hordes of asylum-seekers trying to get to safety in Europe or America. But the “face” of the refugee crisis for me is still the face of Aylan, although his little face was actually buried in the sand.

According to Gostin and Roberts (2015), 60 million people (half of them children) have fled Syria, Afghanistan, Somalia, and other countries where war, famine, and the destruction of communities left them no other option. The refugee crisis quickly overwhelmed the resources of countries in Europe, with some erecting police barricades and beating back those who tried to enter. At this writing, millions of people remain in overcrowded and unsanitary refugee camps prone to epidemics of disease, such as tuberculosis and dysentery. Countries vary considerably in their response to refugees, with few adhering to the 1951 Refugee Convention or the Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement that urge attention to basic human needs (food, water, shelter, medical/psychological services). There are no consequences for countries ignoring these international guidelines (Gostin & Roberts, 2015).

Amidst this already bleak picture, and despite the pleas of Pope Francis for humanitarian aid to refugees (Baker & Yardley, 2015), the situation has worsened since the terrorist attacks in Paris in November. Anti-refugee sentiment is high, particularly against Syrians, because a Syrian passport was found among the debris of the carnage in Paris. Political opposition to admitting more migrants is mounting in the United States and Canada. As I write today, Aylan's aunt, Tima Kurdi, who lives in Canada, has just spoken out about the anti-refugee statements she is hearing from Canadians:

People have no idea. They never live in those kind of situations. They don't know how desperate those refugees are. Not every Syrian refugee is bad. They flee … from ISIS, they are coming for help. All of a sudden everybody is going to shut the door again for them. (Tima Kurdi, cited in Kohut, 2015, p. 1)

By the time this issue of the journal reaches you, additional children like Aylan undoubtedly will have died, either during a perilous journey from a war-torn country or after failing to find asylum in a place that might welcome them and give them clean water, food, and medical care. Even if they survive and they are eventually granted admission to a European or North American country, too many refugees will see that they are unwanted. Said Aylan's aunt: “People are fleeing to country [where] they know they're not welcome. I know how the refugees feel. They know they're not welcome. But they have no choice” (Kohut, 2015, p. 1).

Can you imagine the emotional scars carried by the refugee children and their parents? The consequences for mental health care systems are great. Few countries in the world will be spared the need to provide care to these severely traumatized individuals. Please consider sharing your compassionate and creative solutions in an article for this journal. That is one way you can honor Aylan.

Declaration of Interest: The author reports no conflicts of interest. The author alone is responsible for the content and writing of the article.