Madness in the Med
For years desperate people have been trying to reach Europe by sea. Many of them never made it.
When I was a little boy my godfather, who had a typical Maltese “luzzu“(a small fishing boat), would take me out with his small crew to pick up the nets for the seasonal catch of mahi-mahi or lampuki as we call them on the island. The nets were laid far out at sea so that we could not see the island when we arrived. My excitement used to be great as we set off in the morning with the intention of bringing tons of fish (in my child’s eyes) to land. At dusk, when the boat would head home, the smell of fish and diesel combined with the swell of the waves would make me feel so nauseous that I often felt sick and would throw up into the sea before we reached the island again.
This is no comparison but probably the closest I have ever come to experience some of the misery most of these refugees feel out there on an overcrowded, inflatable dinghy in the middle of the Mediterranean. I do not know what smugglers promise these poor people to make them take such risks for themselves, their wives and children but, like me as a youngster, they are probably excited at the beginning of their adventure as they rush across the Libyan beaches to reach their boat. I can imagine them smiling and thinking that the hardest part is over as they jostle for space on board. Some of them might never have seen such a large body of water and might think they are just crossing a river. One sure thing is that most of them cannot swim. They may be fleeing war or the sub-human conditions of the Libyan camps, they may be looking for safety, a better life, a job, a steady income. Whatever the case, their dream must be so vivid that they are prepared to risk everything, even their lives, to make it come true.
The contrast between the north and the south shores of the Med in summer could not be more surreal. As these desperate people head out in search of a better life, we Europeans head south to swim and sunbathe on Greek, Italian and Spanish beaches. On one side life and death, on the other side leisure and relaxation. Caught in the middle is my home island of Malta. This proportionately most densely populated EU country (1,325 inhabitants per km) has accepted more than its fair share of immigrants in the past. The current government has successfully used diplomacy to urge some other European countries to share these immigrants every time a crisis develops. Malta is unwilling to face this problem alone and rightly so. The size of the country and the strained resources (water, infrastructure etc.) cannot deal with a yearly influx of such proportion. Italy’s decision to close its ports to such ships as the Alan Kurdi has made the situation even more difficult.
What is needed is a European solution and a new perspective. We need to look at Africa as an investment opportunity and to create jobs there so that people have the stability they so desperately seek elsewhere. Secondly, Europe is aging fast. If our social systems are going to survive, we need these people to come and fill in the job vacancies which Austrians are not willing to take up. For the Austrian tourism sector every young man or woman, who can be trained as a waiter/waitress or to work in a kitchen, is a godsend. While we are dallying, debating and refusing to deal with immigration properly, China has stepped in and is making heavy inroads in Africa.
One thing for sure: we cannot keep letting children drown in the Mediterranean. It is inhuman, barbaric and diminishes us as Europeans. That little boy on that luzzu was glad when land came in sight and his mother was waiting for him with open arms. All children deserve that.