“The measure is lives.” I quote Xandru Cassar. If his name is not well known yet, then it deserves to be. Xandru is the courageous young man who picketed outside Castille in a bid to get the government to do the right thing and to open its ports to refugees in trouble at sea.

The government failed to do so with horrific consequences: five refugees found dead on one of the stranded boats, seven more presumed dead, and the remaining 51 passengers returned to Libya where they were detained. 

The refusal of the government to rescue migrant boats adrift in the Maltese search-and-rescue zone is deeply disturbing and its justification for occupying the moral low ground unconvincing. Is absorption with the coronavirus truly a compelling enough reason to shelve Malta’s international obligation to save lives?

The dedication to saving lives by committing all possible resources to combating the virus is nothing less than admirable but since when are some lives worth less than others? Do we have more right to live because we are Maltese citizens or because we happen to be on the island?

Something does not add up, not if the measure is lives, that is. Some might say the state has the duty to protect its own, but this cannot be at the cost of abdicating its legal and moral responsibility to help others in desperate need. In fact, the state is duty-bound to protect all those within its jurisdiction.

The distinction between lives that matter, and those that do not, can be felt around the world. The universality of the trend does not make it right. The pandemic is showing us up for who we are, threatening compassion towards the others in need, and urging survival of the fittest and of those whom we perceive to be somehow part of us. And yet those of us who profess to be Christians have just celebrated Easter and the promise of new life for all, not just the fortunate few.

There are countless reports about the horrific torture, extortion, and slavery suffered by refugees across Libya

Apart from what the coronavirus implies in terms of solidarity, the government’s willingness to consider Libya safe for refugees is deeply disturbing. When interviewed, Prime Minister Robert Abela was quoted as saying that the Armed Forces of Malta stop tens of migrant boats from entering the country’s search-and-rescue zone, but that one had “slipped through.” He added that while Malta understood the reality of Libya's situation, people needed to understand the reality of our country.

I doubt Malta understands the reality of Libya’s situation. If Malta really knew and understood what happens to refugees in Libya, then its inhuman approach would be very hard to justify, going as it does against international human rights norms and common decency.

Then again, pleading ignorance would hardly hold water. There are countless reports from United Nations agencies, non-governmental organisations, and reputable journalists about the horrific torture, extortion, and slavery suffered by refugees in official and unofficial detention centres across Libya.

Abandoning refugees to be returned to Libya means nothing less than acquiescing in the horrific treatment they will almost certainly face on their return. Also, they have no realistic chance of applying for asylum in Libya, which is the reason that most left their country in the first place.

The decision to go on their journey is something we should never dare to judge because we have no idea what they have lived and seen, and would most likely be horrified if we found out.

Refugees will continue to do their utmost to escape from Libya. They are dying to leave – literally, sometimes – because they are desperate and they resort to smugglers because no other means are open to them. The coronavirus has taught us to fear death. Let it also be an opportunity to have more compassion for those who face death every day in their bid to find life.   

Danielle Vella, Director of reconciliation, Jesuit Refugee Service