As 'Small Boat' Channel Crossings Rise, a Sea‑Level View Shows the Peril and Personal Dramas Behind the Statistics
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The trend of migrants crossing the English Channel in small boats, which has risen to the highest level in three years, continues to roil British politics and Anglo‑Franco relations. Over several months this year, Getty Images photographers made a series of trips to the French coast to show the human experience behind the numbers.
Photography by Carl Court and Dan Kitwood, Staff Photographers
More than 40,000 migrants have attempted to cross the English Channel via small boats this year, with nearly all of them seeking asylum in the UK. Although this represents less than half of annual asylum applications in the country in 2025, small‑boat arrivals remain the most common way that irregular arrivals are detected by UK Border Force. The relative visibility of the trend has helped make it a political lightning rod and frequent subject of media coverage. The UK government posts weekly statistics on the number of arrivals, while newspapers generate near daily headlines.
Despite the attention on the issue, there is little media coverage of the migrant experience that underlies the statistics. There is virtually no press access to UK border force operations in the Channel, the arrivals at the port of Dover, asylum processing centers, or the hotels where many asylum seekers are housed while they wait for decisions on their claims. Much of that opacity is by the government's design, but the migrants, too, are wary of attention, worried about harassment by anti‑immigration activists or press coverage that could complicate an asylum claim.
Where the migrants are most visible is on the shores of northern France, where they attempt to board inflatable dinghies that arrive stealthily from farther up the coast. At the beach in Gravelines, for example, groups of men, women and children will gather on the dunes before dawn, before wading out to claim their spot on small boats that are already packed with other passengers.
These are chaotic scenes. To avoid French police, whose policy prevents them from intervening with the boats while at sea, the dinghies do not fully approach the shore. Migrants must wade out into chest‑deep water before trying to squeeze onto a boat that already appears full. Adults are knocked over by waves; children slip from their parents' shoulders; smugglers conduct crowd‑control by lashing people with sticks; new passengers tumble head over heels as they're hoisted aboard. And, invariably, many people do not make it aboard at all ‑ the boat is too full, or there is confusion about which boat they were entitled to board ‑ and walk soggy and distraught back to the dunes.
Amid this daily chaos, the response of French police has been a focal point in the political debate, both among the public and between British and French politicians. Over recent years, as the trend of small‑boat migration has surged, French police have insisted that intercepting boats at sea, when they are not in distress, will imperil both officers and passengers. Meanwhile, the aspiring migrants on the beach are typically not committing any crime for which they can be arrested. Not to mention that, on most days, the migrants (plus the untold number of smugglers in their midst) significantly outnumber law enforcement. In this context, French authorities have assumed a largely passive role, recording the migrants, making notes, and sometimes distributing life vests.
There have been notable exceptions to this practice. Over the summer, as scrutiny of French law enforcement intensified, there were several instances when police assumed a more aggressive posture. In the series of pictures below, from June, officers wielding batons and riot shields waded into the surf to physically obstruct a group of migrants attempting to walk to a boat. On land, other officers fired off smoke bombs to deter another group.
In July, there were further reports of French police taking a more aggressive stance on these so‑called "taxi boats," announced to coincide with a summit between UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer and French President Emmanuel Macron. But, as summer turned to autumn, the enforcement strategy seemed largely unchanged, and British officials were grumbling in the press about the French government backtracking on commitments.
Departures of small boats continued almost daily through early November. And with them, the daily scenes of desperation, determination and distress, as people succeeded or failed in scrambling aboard a teeming dinghy bound for British waters, in one of the world's busiest shipping lanes.
For more than two dozen migrants this year, the journey would turn deadly. In September, a boat carrying 100 people got into trouble after setting off from France overnight, leading to the drowning deaths of two Somali women. By the end of September, at least 27 people had died trying to cross the Channel.
In November, amid continued pressure by the UK government, there were renewed commitments from French officials to provide a greater deterrent to migrants attempting the crossing. French police promised to change tack and start intercepting boats at sea, but only before they're packed with civilian passengers. The tussle over enforcement strategies has highlighted the challenge for both British and French governments about how to address irregular migration in a way that's humane and effective. A Home Office spokesperson told the BBC: "France is a critical partner in tackling illegal migration and we continue to work closely together as they review their maritime doctrine."