The Courage to Welcome: solidarity in a divided world

Good evening, dear friends, and thank you, Mr. Dean, for this warm introduction. And thank you all for coming. What a privilege to deliver an oration in such a truly magnificent and historic setting.

Thank you, most sincerely, for this honour.

I come from a country which is familiar with churches - for bad and (mostly) for good, this is inscribed in our history, almost in our genes. All this to say, as different as Westminster Abbey might be from Italian churches, there is a comforting familiarity to being here. Perhaps the familiarity inspired by all houses of God.

And in this familiarity lies a simple, yet powerful idea. That across geographies, across language and culture, across borders, we can find the familiar in the foreign.

The courage to find the familiar in the foreign. That is the idea that I would like to reflect on tonight, because to work with refugees - which is what my organization does, and what I have done for many years - is to welcome the stranger. It is to accept - and it does take some effort, some courage indeed - that some part of ourselves is reflected in others, and that others will see part of themselves in us. Not easy, and of course not a truth for humanitarians only, but a reminder to all of us. Pope Francis spoke of a common fraternity - fratelli tutti. A former Dean of Westminster, Edward Carpenter, referred to one people - the origin of the title of this oration. And we saw a beautiful example of that spirit when His Majesty King Charles and Pope Leo prayed side by side in the Sistine Chapel a few weeks ago. A solemn moment that showed that, despite divisions - in this case very old ones! - people can still be one.

Obviously, not all contexts will present the same level of goodwill, nor generate the same level of attention. My colleagues and I work in some such contexts - where the commitment to solidarity and to unity is more tested, let's say. Where it is sometimes cruelly tested.

Refugees cross an international border, so immediately we are in a situation where there are two countries - and two distinct populations - involved, and sometimes several. On one side, there are refugees - people who have been forced to flee war, violence and persecution - and on the other, there are the countries and the communities where these refugees seek safety. Our commitment to solidarity dictates that people fleeing danger must not be turned back or left to die.

The principle of welcoming and protecting the stranger in need is as old as civilization itself. It is a key element in cultures and sacred texts around the world. It is prominent in the monotheistic tradition - think of the Exodus, of the Flight to Egypt, of the Hijrah. Or think of the role that places of worship like this one have played throughout the centuries in giving sanctuary to those fleeing persecution. Providing asylum is a gesture steeped in all cultures, and in the human soul.

History however has shown that it has not always been respected - for example many refugees, and especially Jewish people fleeing extermination, were turned back or left to die during the second World War. That is partly why it was felt necessary to create a formal asylum regime following the war.

After 1945, States agreed to codify this principle into law. Building on previous efforts, including those of the League of Nations, they eventually created UNHCR - my organization - and adopted the 1951 Refugee Convention, which sets out a number of rights and responsibilities towards refugees. This includes, in article 33, the prohibition against the forcible return of refugees to their country of origin, where they could suffer harm - a principle known as non-refoulement.

Over time, guided by the Convention, many States have translated these international obligations into their national laws. In parallel, since the 1950s, the international legal framework governing asylum has continued to evolve. In 1967 a Protocol to the Convention was adopted, removing some of its time and geographic constraints. Regional legal instruments were developed to account for various geographic specificities. These include the 1969 OAU Refugee Convention in Africa, the 1984 Cartagena Declaration in the Americas, or the European Pact on Asylum and Migration, which was adopted just last year. For all these instruments, the 1951 Refugee Convention remains the foundation.

The fundamental principles on which the institution of asylum rests have therefore not changed - they are as valid today as they were in 1951 - but the ways in which they have been applied have evolved. And have had to, considering not only the geopolitical changes of the past 75 years - decolonization, the fall of the Soviet Union, the worsening effects of climate change, and so on - but also in response to the growing complexity of forced displacement.

Indeed, the reality is that - with the creation of more countries, with the changes in global and regional power dynamics - the scale and nature of forced displacement have also changed. The number of forcibly displaced people around the world has doubled in the last decade - they are 117 million at the latest count. To be clear, this figure includes both people who fled their homes but stayed in their countries - what we call internally displaced - as well as refugees, who fled both home and country. But it gives you a sense of the size of the challenge. It also speaks to the difficult, even scary times in which we live - we, here, in the relative stability of this part of the world, look at them with concern and apprehension; but for millions, the daily reality is one of terrifying fear.

Forced displacement occurs in all regions, because war and violence affect all regions. According to the International Committee of the Red Cross, there are 130 active conflicts around the world today. In some ways, they represent a "decentralized" world war, one conducted in many pieces around the world. Many of them are familiar to all - Ukraine or Gaza for example, which dominate the news, and for good reasons, given the horrifying impact of war on Ukrainians and Palestinians. But there are others that do not get as much attention - in Sudan, in Myanmar, in the Sahel, in Yemen and elsewhere - but which also drive people relentlessly from their homes.

And not only have we become incapable of preventing and stopping conflict - look at the dismaying performance of the UN Security Council - we have also allowed wars to be defined by indiscriminate violence against civilians, by the complete disregard for international humanitarian law, which is meant to regulate how wars are conducted. Think of Gaza, just last month. Of El Fasher, last week. Or Ukraine, last night. Hospitals, schools, ambulances, people queuing for food, humanitarian convoys, bakeries, sanitation plants - you name it - there are no more red lines.

This abandonment of norms fits into (and, in turn, feeds) a broader dynamic: the disenchantment with institutions and what they have come to symbolize. The sense that the systems and structures built over decades have grown distant, more interested in perpetuating themselves and entrenching power than in meeting the challenges of the modern world, and the needs of the people they claim to represent.

Whether you agree with this sentiment or not, we must take this general loss of trust in institutions very seriously. And I would include multilateral institutions - and the UN - into this discussion, which raises a number of important questions. Is this an evolution toward a new paradigm, or a return to a previous state of affairs? One where cooperation and compromise between States take even more of a back seat to realpolitik and to the exercise of power - sometimes military power - in the spirit of "my country first"?

Of course, the United Nations was built precisely to save this and future generations from the scourge of war, and to reaffirm the inherent dignity in each one of us. But can we sustain our commitment to universal values - or at least those we once proclaimed to be - if we weaken the institutions created to uphold and defend them?

As the memory of the horrors of the last century fades from historical consciousness, do we want to go back to 1939?

And - without wanting to complicate the picture too much - I haven't even mentioned the compounding effect of the fragmented information landscape, and the increasingly corrosive role of misinformation and unregulated technology. People don't know what is real anymore. How can societies begin to address some of the challenges they face if they cannot agree what those challenges are? If they do not see or hear or believe the same things?

There are no easy answers to these questions, I am sorry. And I would be presumptuous if I broadened the analysis further - but there is one issue, central to my work, which represents, somehow, a microcosm of those larger questions: the issue of refugee asylum. A matter which both unites and divides, provokes and inspires - the challenges of which reflect those bigger questions; but the solutions to which may provide some direction on how to respond.

To recap: more wars and violence, leading to more displacement, affecting every part of the world, in a context where people have lost trust in institutions, yet cannot agree on what problems they actually need to address. It is not difficult to understand, given all this, the appeal of the easy solution. The natural need to try and impose some order on a world that feels dangerous and chaotic.

Refugees are at the centre of today's collective existential crisis; of our sense of global malaise. And that need to feel in control is at the heart of the debate on asylum and migration. Yes, it is a debate that has become politicized, manipulated for electoral gains, and where arguments are not always made in good faith. And yes, sadly, there is often more than a hint of xenophobia - if not outright racism - in the language used to describe refugees and asylum-seekers. But - if we are to find solutions that are both effective and legal - it is important to avoid the temptation of the easy solution and acknowledge the complexity of the issue, and the real challenges that countries face in responding to forced displacement.

Anybody would be forgiven - based on what we hear and read in the news - for thinking that most of the countries that receive refugees are in Europe, or in North America. The reality is that over 70% of all refugees in the world are hosted in low and middle-income countries. Countries such as Colombia, Uganda or Iran.

Let me illustrate this point. According to the Home Office here in the UK, a total of 111,084 people claimed asylum in the United Kingdom in a one-year period, between July 2024 and June 2025. This includes 43,600 arrivals on the infamous small boats that dominate much of the coverage on this issue.

During exactly the same period, as one example, over 250,000 Sudanese refugees crossed the border to neighbouring Chad. More than twice as many - to a country already hosting more than 1.5 million refugees.

Chad's GDP is $20.6 billion. The United Kingdom's is $3.6 trillion. The UK is a land surrounded by water, across which lies, mostly, the European Union. Chad is a landlocked country in the midst of an unstable region. It is also located in one of the hottest regions on earth, making it one of the most climate-vulnerable countries on the planet.

To be sure, international responsibility toward refugees is a complex issue and other factors weigh into the equation. And I am not for one moment underestimating the challenges faced even by richer countries in receiving asylum seekers - particularly as the UK has been for a long time a generous donor to many countries on the frontline of displacement, including Chad. We do not forget that, nor do we take it for granted.

So, in this complex context, the question is: what is our responsibility toward refugees?

Let me be a little more specific: what do we owe the people of Sudan? To stay with my example. They are in a faraway country. They are strangers - though we have seen their blood spilled in quantities large enough to stain the earth. Does that make them less unknown? Do we first need to hear their stories before deciding if we have any responsibility toward them?

And I can tell you: they are not easy stories. I saw Sudanese refugees fleeing by the thousands. I heard from mothers who were violated in front of their children. From families who had to leave loved ones to die alone because they were too weak to keep moving. From parents who had to make decisions none of us should ever have to make.

These are the stories of the refugees. And this is why asylum continues to be - as it was for centuries, and in 1951 - a moral and legal obligation that we must uphold; the translation of one of humanity's most ancient and shared acts of compassion.

Sudanese refugees - like so many other refugees - flee ethnic cleansing. They flee starvation. Disease. Sexual violence. Forced conscription. Mutilation. If that is the worst that humanity can muster - and it is - on the other side, asylum is among the finest gestures that humanity has to offer. And it happens. Asylum is the story of destitute communities in Chad that welcome those Sudanese refugees and share whatever they can afford to share, in addition to saving their lives! I have seen it so often: ordinary Bangladeshis pushing carts full of food and blankets for the Rohingya refugees fleeing atrocities at the hands of Myanmar's military; the mountains of toys and sweets brought by the people of Poland to the centres set up to receive Ukrainian refugees after the Russian brutal invasion; these and many other such images will forever stay etched in my mind.

That is asylum, beyond the politics. And asylum is also -- of course - a story which has deep roots in the tradition and history of the United Kingdom: think of the Huguenots fleeing religious persecution in France; of the Belgians escaping the German invasion in 1914; of the Poles, Hungarians and many others seeking refuge from Communist rule; of the Chileans breaking free from Pinochet's dictatorship; of the Vietnamese resettled during the Indochinese wars; of the Asians expelled by Idi Amin in Uganda and welcomed here; and most recently of the 250,000 Ukrainians currently hosted in this country. The United Kingdom, Europe and the world would be much worse places if these - and countless other - acts of giving asylum had not been carried out.

But as we celebrate - yes, celebrate - asylum, we should not forget an important truth: most refugees want to return home. That is what they tell us and what they show us - look at refugee returns to Syria at this very moment. One million Syrians have returned to their country after the fall of the Assad regime. Almost two million people displaced inside Syria have returned to their homes. Of course, these returns are happening progressively - as they should - to a country still recovering from long years of division and violence, and not yet safe everywhere and for everyone, though moving in the right direction.

But the point stands: when safe, return is the preferred option of most refugees, contrary to the propaganda of some politicians who describe them all as simply eager to reach "our" shores. But indeed, as is the case with the Sudanese, some refugees keep going beyond their regions, including to Europe, because they cannot sustain themselves in those countries.

This is an example of how a global challenge, seen as almost impossible to face, can be addressed if we are more strategic in our responses: because the more (and better targeted) assistance which front-line refugee-hosting countries receive from donors, the better they are able to host refugees, reducing the likelihood of dangerous onward movements. Sadly, we are seeing exactly the opposite: foreign aid budgets are being cut drastically - including here in the United Kingdom - worsening the precarity of refugees and of host countries. We cannot then pretend to be surprised when secondary refugee movements increase!

And when refugees are compelled to move on, they find that legal channels to do so are blocked - either in a real, physical sense, or behind insurmountable administrative hurdles, or both. That is when they resort to desperate measures, risking their lives - or entrusting them to criminals - to cross the Sahara, the Mediterranean, or the Channel. Many suffer horrifying abuse during their journeys, or simply never make it to their intended destination.

Refugees are not the only ones moving. They often find themselves travelling alongside migrants - people who are not forced to flee their countries, but who move to find jobs, to escape poverty, to study, or for any number of other reasons not related to seeking asylum.

This phenomenon that we call mixed movements - meaning of refugees and migrants moving alongside each other on the same routes - has proven to be particularly challenging for States to address effectively. While different legal frameworks apply to each group - refugees are entitled to international protection; migrants are not - it is not uncommon for migrants to lodge asylum claims in the absence of alternative legal pathways for migration. And then judicial systems quickly become overloaded. Asylum backlogs (and the related costs) grow along with the perception that the system is being abused. This results in negative outcomes for everyone, and especially for refugees who find themselves vilified and yet for whom asylum remains a matter of life and death.

By this stage, politicians are under immense pressure. Rhetoric and policies harden, along with borders. The first reflex is to deter. To mark the separation between us and them. To build walls and to stop boats. To boil all policy options down to a false choice between chaos or control.

On this point, I am of course well aware of today's announcement by the UK government to make changes to the asylum system. And while this is not the place to comment on the new asylum proposal, let me just say that one of UNHCR's responsibilities is to work with States to help them uphold their obligations. So, we will review the proposals in detail, and share our views, as we always have done, even when we have disagreed.

That said, it is clear that the proposal goes in the direction of making it more difficult, not less, to be a refugee in Britain. We will continue to advocate for more stability for refugees and their families, so they can contribute, integrate and belong. But it is also worth being clear on another point: asylum is not a migration loophole, nor some sort of implicit call for open borders. States in fact have the right to control their borders. More than that, it is their duty - you will not hear me say otherwise.

The entire architecture of asylum is premised on States exercising their sovereignty, not denying it. Asylum seekers go from the territory of one State to the territory of another. From one jurisdiction to another - but always protected by the principles enshrined in the Refugee Convention.

Where you will hear us voice concern, therefore, is when countries consider or implement measures that deny refugees that protection, in breach of international law. Or when politicians start calling for the Refugee Convention itself to be replaced, arguing that it is outdated, or no longer suited to today's reality. We hear this today, even in some European countries.

You can appreciate how such arguments are received in countries like Uganda or Bangladesh - and countless others - that shelter millions of refugees year after year, sometimes decade after decade. Those countries, by upholding asylum and living up to their obligations, save lives every day. Those countries too have borders. They too must contend with the same pressures - economic, social, political - which countries in Europe grapple with.

The challenge all countries face is in working together to find solutions that meet both the needs of their citizens - which are legitimate of course - and their obligations to refugees in a manner that does not undermine international solidarity. A moral, legal, and political challenge.

But it is a challenge that we can address.

Without suddenly turning this evening into a policy presentation - do not worry! - allow me to outline briefly some innovative approaches that point us in the right direction - approaches drawn from successful recent State practice, and from UNHCR's own experience.

The first entails zooming out and looking at entire displacement routes to find opportunities to stabilize population flows along those routes. In other words, do not wait until refugees and migrants reach your borders to act. When refugees find protection and opportunity, the incentives to move on decrease - as happened to hundreds of thousands of displaced Venezuelans, for example, when Colombia granted them Temporary Protection Status in 2021. In parallel, much better and broader regulated migration pathways - including labour mobility and education pathways - can be orderly off-ramps for migrants and decrease pressure on the asylum channel.

These measures do not mean that control-based responses suddenly become unnecessary. Both sets of measures are complementary. Returns can still be pursued for people who do not need international protection - those who are not refugees. The use of third safe countries - when done in line with international standards - can also be considered. The 'one in one out' deal between the United Kingdom and France is proof that when States cooperate, they can devise new responses that lawfully address the challenge of mixed movements.

At the same time, it is critical that States hosting large refugee populations continue to receive support. I mentioned recent reductions in foreign aid budgets. What I did not mention is the devastating impact these cuts have already had - and I do not mean on UNHCR (even though we have lost roughly a quarter of our budget and had to lay off thousands of our employees).

No, it is refugees - those who can afford the least - who have paid the heaviest price. Malnutrition rates have soared, clinics and schools have closed, there is less money for counselling, less for survivors of sexual violence, less for separated children, less for shelter - the list is long and grim. Millions of lives affected as budgets are redirected to defence and security spending. The cuts in foreign refugee assistance are part of a broader strategic error that will only aggravate instability and worsen the problem we are all trying to address, which is all the more damaging as we have made enormous strides in recent years in transforming how we respond to refugee emergencies.

Traditionally, when we had to respond to the outbreak of war somewhere, and to forced displacement, parallel structures were quickly set up - schools, clinics, boreholes, food distribution points - to provide life-saving assistance to refugees. And that model did save lives.

But it relied on dedicated funding that invariably shrank as time went on, making the response unsustainable. It also segregated people living in the same communities based on their status. Instead, in recent years, we have prioritized more sustainable solutions to displacement, that aim to break down these parallel structures by promoting the inclusion of refugees into existing systems along those routes So instead of building a new school funding is directed to rehabilitating or expanding existing schools that would welcome all children.

To get there, host government policies frequently have to be changed, to remove restrictions previously imposed on refugees - on freedom of movement, on accessing services and the labour market, and so on. This in turn enables refugees to become more self-reliant - and less dependent on aid - and to contribute more fully to their communities, such as teachers in those same schools.

In the last decade, we worked side by side with many development actors - including FCDO - to accelerate this change. We enlisted the help of international financial institutions like the World Bank, or of the private sector, and mobilized billions of dollars that went directly to countries that host refugees - not to UNHCR - to help them move to this more sustainable model. Progress has been tangible in many countries.

And then these funding cuts struck, weakening a good strategy to address the global challenge.

But it is not too late. It is never too late to invest and reinvest in aid. In peace and stability - because ultimately, that is what aid money is buying. Yes, it can be a risky investment and is not a business - the returns are not always immediate. But I would argue that the possibility of peace - even distant peace - is always a better bet than the certainty of war.

Mr. Dean, dear friends,

Forgive me if I have strayed - somehow - into technical issues. I thought it was important to be specific in order to prove the point that to find the familiar in the foreign - to build the courage to welcome - we must roll up our sleeves, unpack complex issues like forced displacement and population flows, and develop practical solutions to ensure that we safeguard everybody: those fleeing in fear, who need international protection; and those hosting them, like the citizens of this country. My message is that if we avoid the temptation of simplistic responses - barriers, pushbacks, constraints - we can find the needed balance and uphold a fundamental value of all civilizations. It is possible!

The debate on asylum is a mirror of our world. If we want to address its more difficult aspects - its misuse by some; the fears that it can generate; the social and economic challenges it triggers - we must not exacerbate those aspects, as many politicians do in order to win the next election; but work diligently on the narrow, more complex but real space between pragmatism and principles: and from there create responses in which asylum's essential, life-saving purpose can flourish.

Don't say that I am idealistic. Or rather, yes, say it, because I am, and proudly so - but I have also worked in crises for over four decades, all over the world, from being a volunteer at the border between Cambodia and Thailand towards the end of the Indochina wars, to where I am now, about to conclude ten years at the helm of a great organization. I have seen up close more war, violence, injustice and abuse - up close - than I care to remember. But I have also seen how powerful human empathy with those who suffer can be. I know that knowledge, patience, creativity and compassion can form an invincible blend when trying to find solutions to intractable problems. Welcoming those who flee has become one of them, but there is a way forward.

A few steps from here one of the greatest poets of the 20^th century, one whom I have long cherished, has a memorial stone - in his poem Refugee Blues, W.H. Auden wrote the following, beautiful verses, summarizing the refugee experience:

"A thousand windows and a thousand doors

Not one of them was ours"

Can we still find one door to open?

I believe we can.

All it takes is the courage to welcome.

Thank you.