Theo James is dedicated to telling the stories of refugees, as a legacy of his grandfather.In 1941, as the Nazis swept through Greece and took Athens, my grandfather, Nicolas Taptiklis, fled for his life.In the middle of the night, he boarded a tiny boat with twelve others and crossed the dangerous waters of the Aegean Sea to Turkey. Under Nazi occupation, his service with the British Navy made staying in Greece a risk he could not take. Greeks who helped the Allies risked arrest, imprisonment, or execution, and the punishment could reach their families and communities too. From Turkey, he made his way with thousands of others to Syria, where he finally found safety in Damascus.That journey never left him. When the war ended, Europe was filled with people who had also lost their homes, their families and, in many cases, nearly their lives. Around 11 million people were displaced in Germany: Holocaust survivors, former prisoners of war, forced laborers, and others left in camps, waiting for the world to decide what came next.My grandfather returned to Europe and put his medical training to work for people whose own lives had been broken by the same war he had fled. He joined the UN Relief and Rehabilitation Administration, one of the first humanitarian agencies and a precursor to UNHCR, the UN Refugee Agency. In a camp in Göttingen, Germany, he treated tuberculosis, typhoid, and people whose bodies had survived the war but still bore its scars.The world had learned, at unbearable human cost, what happens when people fleeing war have nowhere safe to go. Through WWII, Families were turned away from protection, people returned to countries where they feared for their lives, and millions were left in camps because home was no longer safe or even existed at all. From that devastation came a simple lesson; people escaping war and conflict should be able to find safety. They should not be forced back to a place where they could be killed or tortured. When people flee for their lives, they need somewhere safe to go.That principle became the heart of the 1951 Refugee Convention, adopted in the aftermath of the Second World War as countries tried to create a framework to prevent the atrocities of the war from ever occurring again. The Convention defined who is a refugee, set out the basic rights for refugees, and established the responsibilities of states toward people seeking protection. But more than a legal document, it was a promise of safety. A promise that, for the past 75 years, has saved millions of lives and stands as proof that even in our darkest hours, we can choose to protect one another. Even the clearest lessons of history can fade. A world of indifference, even cruelty, is creeping back. Xenophobia is rising. Humanitarian aid is shrinking. International solidarity is weakening. And once again, the promise of safety is under strain.As world leaders gather in New York for the United Nations General Assembly, we must reaffirm that promise. In times like these, we must hold fast to our promise and advocate for the continued need and lifesaving work of humanitarian agencies, like UNHCR, around the world. This is not only the morally right thing to do; it is also the practical one. When refugees are protected, communities are stronger, instability is reduced, and fewer people are forced to flee. A world that protects people in their greatest moment of need is a safer and more humane world for everyone.My grandfather experienced the generosity and compassion of the Syrians who sheltered him, but he also knew what a world of chaos and violence was like, and what its consequences were if there was no safety net of international protection. If my grandfather were alive today, he would be sounding a warning. He would be speaking up in defense of the Convention, of humanitarian action, of compassion. He knew all too well what it was like to flee in fear for your life. He saw how lives could be lost or shattered if there was no one to step in and protect them. I think of my grandfather on that boat, making that journey. I sound the warning on his behalf. To remind people that becoming a refugee can happen to any of us at any time. The right to seek safety was a promise made for us all, and that promise needs protecting and defending.