So many refugees going to this small place. At least there are volunteers to help them.
Lesvos: where humanity confronts borders
Henriette Johansen
Monday, 15 February 2016 17:49
Burst rubber dinghies are seen washed up on the beaches of Lesvos
Depending on the situation at the border with Macedonia, there could soon be thousands of people stranded on the Greek island of Lesvos. It was chaos in August and September last year, but now it has become manageable with strong organisation, diligence and volunteers. Over the past six months, volunteers and tens of thousands of refugees have arrived on the island. Humanity has showed up on this island in spite of the authorities, European border regulations and other mechanisms meant to prevent it happening. Today, Lesvos has navy vessels from various states in Europe, including Spain and Portugal; it has staff from the EU’s Frontex border agency, police forces and coast guards, and NATO is expected soon, to ship people back to Turkey. The authorities are falling over each other in their muscle-flexing, whilst refugees and volunteers reach out in humanity as boats land on the island. The welcome is warm from people who have travelled across Europe and the US to go to the border and receive people reaching out for help. Their hands meet in Lesvos, and I went there to join them.
The EU has given Greece three months to “strengthen its borders” and fix “deficiencies” in controlling the influx of people or face suspension from the Schengen Area passport-free zone. According to Lesvos Mayor Spyros Galinos, the Greeks have been “upholding the ideals of Europe” in their support for thousands of refugees. “For seven years the Greeks have been accused of not being able to put forward their own policy,” he explained, “ but the same people who were brought to their knees by the economic crisis still found the strength to stand up and take it upon themselves to deal with a European problem.”
For Turkey and its smugglers, the flow of people is big business. Each dinghy crammed full of desperate people is estimated to generate €50,000. Hence, at night, when busses fill up far away from the coast in Turkey, the smugglers are let through depending on the fluctuating regulations, to make good business sense. The government cracks down on certain crossings, changing the flow of refugees to Lesvos; at the moment the refugees arrive on the north coast of the island. The Turkish government had a crackdown on smugglers from Izmir aiming for the south of Lesvos, an hour-long, lethal journey with faulty lifejackets and dinghies in choppy waters, so they find themselves capitalising instead on the five times longer and thus five times more dangerous route to arrive on the north coast. People have to pay €1,500 to risk their lives crossing the Aegean on a good day (many times more expensive than an official, and safe, ferry); when it is windy the charge is €500 or €700 at night, when the chance of survival decreases. This is how the smugglers capitalise on the status of extremely vulnerable people fleeing from war.
People get confused and scared when volunteers try to help them to get out of the boats, thinking that they could be officials ready to beat or repatriate them. The beaches in Lesvos do not have barbed wire. Volunteers have to communicate that they are there to help, stretching out their hands. It is difficult to gain trust as all official policies are intended to push them back, showing them violence and that they are not welcome.
Continue reading at
Lesvos: where humanity confronts borders?
Lesvos: where humanity confronts borders
Henriette Johansen
Monday, 15 February 2016 17:49
Burst rubber dinghies are seen washed up on the beaches of Lesvos
Depending on the situation at the border with Macedonia, there could soon be thousands of people stranded on the Greek island of Lesvos. It was chaos in August and September last year, but now it has become manageable with strong organisation, diligence and volunteers. Over the past six months, volunteers and tens of thousands of refugees have arrived on the island. Humanity has showed up on this island in spite of the authorities, European border regulations and other mechanisms meant to prevent it happening. Today, Lesvos has navy vessels from various states in Europe, including Spain and Portugal; it has staff from the EU’s Frontex border agency, police forces and coast guards, and NATO is expected soon, to ship people back to Turkey. The authorities are falling over each other in their muscle-flexing, whilst refugees and volunteers reach out in humanity as boats land on the island. The welcome is warm from people who have travelled across Europe and the US to go to the border and receive people reaching out for help. Their hands meet in Lesvos, and I went there to join them.
The EU has given Greece three months to “strengthen its borders” and fix “deficiencies” in controlling the influx of people or face suspension from the Schengen Area passport-free zone. According to Lesvos Mayor Spyros Galinos, the Greeks have been “upholding the ideals of Europe” in their support for thousands of refugees. “For seven years the Greeks have been accused of not being able to put forward their own policy,” he explained, “ but the same people who were brought to their knees by the economic crisis still found the strength to stand up and take it upon themselves to deal with a European problem.”
For Turkey and its smugglers, the flow of people is big business. Each dinghy crammed full of desperate people is estimated to generate €50,000. Hence, at night, when busses fill up far away from the coast in Turkey, the smugglers are let through depending on the fluctuating regulations, to make good business sense. The government cracks down on certain crossings, changing the flow of refugees to Lesvos; at the moment the refugees arrive on the north coast of the island. The Turkish government had a crackdown on smugglers from Izmir aiming for the south of Lesvos, an hour-long, lethal journey with faulty lifejackets and dinghies in choppy waters, so they find themselves capitalising instead on the five times longer and thus five times more dangerous route to arrive on the north coast. People have to pay €1,500 to risk their lives crossing the Aegean on a good day (many times more expensive than an official, and safe, ferry); when it is windy the charge is €500 or €700 at night, when the chance of survival decreases. This is how the smugglers capitalise on the status of extremely vulnerable people fleeing from war.
People get confused and scared when volunteers try to help them to get out of the boats, thinking that they could be officials ready to beat or repatriate them. The beaches in Lesvos do not have barbed wire. Volunteers have to communicate that they are there to help, stretching out their hands. It is difficult to gain trust as all official policies are intended to push them back, showing them violence and that they are not welcome.
Continue reading at
Lesvos: where humanity confronts borders?
