Aylan Kurdi.
This is the image that has shocked the world.
The sight of a boy, not old enough to understand why he had to flee, washed up on the beach in Greece. He has become the face and name of Syria's human suffering.
This isn't the first time that the world has been spurred into action by the sight of a suffering child. One of the most famous examples is that of the 'burning girl' in Vietnam.
However, dying children have influenced policy for the past several decades.
This child led the United States to commit troops into Somalia in order to overthrow the local warlords and deliver food to the people.
This child, an Afghan refugee in Pakistan, forced the Soviets to concede that there was a human cost to their war in the Central Asian country.
What is it about suffering children that can motivate the world to open their eyes to a crisis? In many cases, it's exactly the reasons you can think of. Children are the epitome of innocence. They bear absolutely no responsibility for what has happened to them and their only crime was being born in that part of the world. Many parents are able to imagine their own kin in the place of refugees or victims. They are able to sympathize and empathize with full knowledge that, had they ever been placed in a similar situation, they too would have fled to save their flesh and blood. No parent could look at the lifeless body of Aylan and not imagine their own child on that washed up beach.
Every day we see ISIS atrocities, Syrian barrel bombings, Libyan soldiers shooting civilians and countless massacres in every corner of the globe. We contextualize it into a global framework of politics and international relations. We debate whether or not we should bomb ISIS or perhaps we should stick to an isolationist policy. We wonder just what's happening with the diplomatic talks in Iran to curb their nuclear ambition. We see the Taliban regaining their former strength in Afghanistan but feel that the devil we know is better than the devil we don't.
At least that's what we should be doing. More often than not, we worry about ourselves. We fear the coming cell phone bill or mortgage payment. We wonder just how we're going to get through the rest of the day with that annoying coworker. We excitedly snuggle up with our spouse while watching Last Week Tonight.
We sit in our comfy couches, we see the images of nameless refugees in hard to pronounce towns and we feel genuine sorrow and heartbreak. We are moved by the sights and sounds of war, but secretly happy that it is not us who is being covered on the international news. This is the reality of our lives. We don't want to be the parent who has just lost their child to the wild ocean winds. But, we can't look away.
We will mourn for Aylan. Tears will be shed. Candles will be lit. Refugee quotas will be lifted, incrementally, until we fear that too many foreigners are taking our jobs and livelihoods.
Then, we will go back to worrying about ourselves and the problems at hand.
Until the next child. Until the next picture.
