Why do so many from around the world try to cross the English Channel?

While the politicians talk, so many people come from around the world to try to get across the Channel on small boats. But why?

Why make such a perilous crossing to try to get to a country that seems to be getting increasingly hostile to asylum seekers?

As the British and French leaders meet, with small boats at the forefront of their agenda, we came to northern France to get some answers.

It is not a new question, but it is peppered with fresh relevance.

Over the course of a morning spent around a migrant camp in Dunkirk, we meet migrants from Gaza, Iraq, Eritrea, South Sudan, Sri Lanka and beyond.

Some are fearful, waving us away; some are happy to talk. Very few are comfortable to be filmed.

All but one man – who says he’s come to the wrong place and actually wants to claim asylum in Paris – are intent on reaching Britain.

They see the calm seas, feel the light winds – perfect conditions for small boat crossings.

John has come here from South Sudan. He tells me he’s now 18 years old. He left his war-torn home nation just before his 16th birthday. He feels that reaching Britain is his destiny.

“England is my dream country,” he says. “It has been my dream since I was at school. It’s the country that colonised us and when I get there, I will feel like I am home.

“In England, they can give me an opportunity to succeed or to do whatever I need to do in my life. I feel like I am an English child, who was born in Africa.”

He says he would like to make a career in England, either as a journalist or in human resources, and, like many others we meet, is at pains to insist he will work hard.

The boat crossing is waved away as little more than an inconvenience – a trifle compared with the previous hardships of his journey towards Britain.

We meet a group of men who have all travelled from Gaza, intent on starting new lives in Britain and then bringing their families over to join them.

One man, who left Gaza two years ago, tells me that his son has since been shot in the leg “but there is no hospital for him to go to”.

Next to him, a man called Abdullah says he entered Europe through Greece and stayed there for months on end, but was told the Greek authorities would never allow him to bring over his family.

Britain, he thinks, will be more accommodating. “Gaza is being destroyed – we need help,” he says.

A man from Eritrea tells us he is escaping a failing country and has friends in Britain – he plans to become a bicycle courier in either London or Manchester.

He can’t stay in France, he says, because he doesn’t speak French. The English language is presented as a huge draw for many of the people we talk to, just as it had been during similar conversations over the course of many years.

I ask many of these people why they don’t want to stay in France, or another safe European country.

Some repeat that they cannot speak the language and feel ostracised. Another says that he tried, and failed, to get a residency permit in both France and Belgium.

But this is also, clearly, a flawed survey. Last year, five times as many people sought asylum in France as in Britain.

And French critics have long insisted that Britain, a country without a European-style ID card system, makes itself attractive to migrants who can “disappear”.

A young man from Iraq, with absolutely perfect English, comes for a chat. He oozes confidence and a certain amount of mischief.

It has taken him only seven days to get from Iraq to Dunkirk; when I ask how he has made the trip so quickly, he shrugs. “Money talks”.

He looks around him. “Let me tell you – all of these people you see around you will be getting to Britain and the first job they get will be in the black market, so they won’t be paying any tax.

“Back in the day in Britain, they used to welcome immigrants very well, but these days I don’t think they want to, because there’s too many of them coming by boat. Every day it’s about seven or 800 people. That’s too many people.”

“But,” I ask, “if those people are a problem – then what makes you different? Aren’t you a problem too?”

He shakes his head emphatically. “I know that I’m a very good guy. And I won’t be a problem. I’ll only stay in Britain for a few years and then I’ll leave again.”

A man from Sri Lanka says he “will feel safe” when he gets to Britain; a tall, smiling man from Ethiopia echoes the sentiment: “We are not safe in our home country so we have come all this way,” he says. “We want to work, to be part of Britain.”

Emmanuel is another from South Sudan – thoughtful and eloquent. He left his country five years ago – “at the start of COVID” – and has not seen his children in all that time. His aim is to start a new life in Britain, and then to bring his family to join him.

He is a trained electrical engineer, but says he could also work as a lorry driver. He is adamant that Britain has a responsibility to the people of its former colony.

“The British came to my country – colonising, killing, raping,” he said. “And we didn’t complain. We let it happen.

“I am not the problem. I won’t fight anyone; I want to work. And if I break the laws – if any immigrant breaks the laws – then fine, deport them.

“I know it won’t be easy – some people won’t like me, some people will. But England is my dream.”