In early July, over 2,500 asylum‑seekers reached Crete—an unmistakable rebuke to the idea that detention threats or deterrence policies on European soil can stop people fleeing war or destitution. In keeping with its mandate to alleviate suffering and preserve dignity, Médecins Sans Frontières mobilised teams on the island, offering medical consultations and hygiene kits. Yet such temporary relief merely underscores a decade of unfinished policy in Greece and the EU: Athens was unprepared once more, suspending asylum applications for three months and claiming it sent a “clear message.” But the only message communicated is that deterrence is easier to promise than deliver.

To those risking their lives in search of better lives, such rhetoric is empty. It is legally dubious, strategically bankrupt and morally hazardous in any democratic society. Today one in every 67 people worldwide is forcibly displaced—an estimated 123.2 million individuals. Efforts to deter sea‑crossings have merely entrenched risk; routes have become deadlier and conditions on the islands more dire.

Meanwhile, European leaders trade on a toxic narrative of an “invasion” and demographic “replacement,” stoking a siege mindset that casts displaced persons fleeing violence and poverty as a “security threat.” Civil society organisations and individuals aiding those on the move face increasing criminalisation. The real question: do containment policies deter journeys? The lived reality is clear—they do not.

Consider Sudan. After more than two years of conflict, the violence continues unrelenting: children starve under blockades, bombs strike civilian areas, hospitals are attacked. Eastern Chad now hosts over one million Sudanese refugees. I have heard stories—mothers disguise their boys as girls to shield them from slaughter. Do Greek or European detention laws genuinely deter desperate families fleeing such horror?

Even more strikingly, Europeans seem to have forgotten their own history. Greeks themselves fled civil war and dictatorship until 1974; more recently, European states, including Greece, welcomed thousands of Ukrainians as refugees. And yet today, healthy men arriving from countries not experiencing wars on the scale of Sudan’s are routinely dismissed as economic migrants with criminal intent. This overlooks a fundamental principle: asylum is an individual right. Every person arriving in Europe has the right to apply—and to have their case fairly adjudicated.

At a time when atrocity unfolds a few hours’ flight from Athens, one must ask: what engagement have Greek or EU governments shown in ending violence in Sudan? Would it not make more sense to prevent conflict rather than simply contain its victims? Encouraging policymakers to focus on conflict resolution rather than containment could save lives and honour legal obligations.

Societal apathy is costly. The vast sums spent attempting to stem migration across the Mediterranean—largely unsuccessfully—constitute not just policy failure, but a moral stain. As respect for international law erodes—laws once honoured by our forebears—it becomes a moral imperative to show solidarity to those enduring similar human rights violations today.

As medical professionals, we know words and first aid cannot resolve structural drivers of migration. But values such as solidarity and humanity are not rhetorical ornaments. They are foundational to the global order and our shared future—values others may one day extend to us. Our world is interconnected. Conflict is real, starvation is real, climate disruption is real—and no place is safe unless we build a future together.

In the face of relentless physical and psychological strain, let us be unequivocal: would-be refugees are neither threat nor burden. They seek safety, dignity, and the simple right to exist. And they can only truly exist—together.