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Category Archives: Economics

même pas peur

17 Tuesday Nov 2015

Posted by Kate Brooks in Economics, Politics, Refugees, Religion, Travel

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

asylum, australia, crisis, discrimination, EU, europe, fear, followtherefugees, France, FYROM, greece, human rights, humanitarianism, immigration, lesbos, macedonia, middle east, openeuborders, Paris, parisattacks, prayforparis, prayforpeace, prayfortheworld, refugees, refugeeswelcome, safepassage, syria, united nations, USA, war

It seemed like no one on my bus to Belgrade spoke English, but I picked up that the word refugee is not used much by the Serbians, ‘they’ are all ‘immigrants’,*said in an angry voice*, showing the power of language in labeling someone as undeserving. And it’s clear that as in Australia, many Europeans don’t believe refugees have a right to be here.

IMG_2355I am an immigrant. I left my wealthy, stable, safe country to live and work in another because I wanted to experience something different. I had no well-founded fear of persecution, I could have found a better paid and more secure job in Australia than I found here. But no one in Europe has ever questioned my right to be here. No one has ever accused me of taking someone else’s job. And as far as I know, no one has ever worried that I might be a threat to national security.

Every single refugee I spoke to loved their home. Every single one of them spoke of the beauty of their country and said they would go back if they had a future there. We are wired to want to return to where we are from. Every Christmas I go home, because it gets to November and I’m itching to be where I’m from again. For these people, going home is not an option.

I was sitting in my hotel in Belgrade when news of the terrorist attacks in Paris came through, and like everyone who calls that city home I felt sick to my stomach, and wracked with nerves until one by one everyone there who I loved turned out to be ok. There’s really nothing more terrifying than the thought of not feeling safe where you live, and the French have had a taste of that in the last few days. The difference is that for the majority of refugees, they do not have a government who will act to protect them, who will do whatever it takes to ensure their future safety. For some of them, it is the government targeting them. They are not running from an attack on a stadium, or a nightclub, or a restaurant, or a bar. Their villages, cities, and in some cases their countries, are on fire.

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We all empathise with the images coming out of France that show people terrified and fleeing. We can all understand that when you hear gun shots and comprehend the threat, you grab the people you love and you run. You run away from the danger, and you keep running until you find protection and feel secure. Refugees don’t get to just run out of the restaurant; they have to run further and faster and for longer until they feel safe. Why is it that we don’t look at the images of people running from war and make that correlation? There was not one story of someone slamming their door in the face of Parisians who ran on Friday. Why can we not #PorteOuverte now?

While I’ll acknowledge that I met some who weren’t running from obvious persecution, the idea that these people are to be feared is something that I understand less now than I did two weeks ago. That the man or woman who comes from a different background is someone you are justified in being afraid of because they are different to you makes no sense. We make these people the other because it allows us to feel safe in our bigotry and more comfortable in our ignorance. Obviously I didn’t talk to every refugee, but these people don’t want to blow up your homes and change your way of life. They don’t want to convert Europe or threaten your children. They don’t want to impose some deranged form of Sharia law. What they want is the same things you do. They want to send their kids to school, finish their own education, get a job, and be able to feed their families. They want to be free and to live without fear.

IMG_2356Almost immediately following the attacks in Paris, Poland announced that it would no longer be adhering to its commitment to accept a mediocre number of Syrian refugees under a previously negotiated EU deal. Hungary is likely to follow. Calls in the US and Australia to halt any intake were loud. As if the two issues were automatically linked. Despite the fact that the vast majority of these perpetrators were European citizens, born and bred here, in our schools, our suburbs and our communities.

What I’m afraid of now is what’s to come. How we will react as a community. If Paris will permanently feel like a city under military protection. If France will feel like a country at war. I’m afraid that people will become more racist. I’m afraid that Marine Le Pen will win the next election. I’m afraid Muslims will no longer feel safe on the streets. I’m afraid that hate speech will become something we accept, stand by and allow to happen.

But when it comes to the refugees, I am not afraid of them. I’ve helped these people out of leaky boats. I’ve comforted them while they’ve howled violently. I’ve walked to border crossings with them in the pitch black. I’ve sat in the dirt and talked with them in their camps. I’ve travelled across a country with them. I’ve shaken their hands and heard their stories and shared their food. I’ve been alone with them in the dark.

And if I’m not afraid of them after that than you don’t get to be either.

paris-peace

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I could not stay just sitting any longer

13 Friday Nov 2015

Posted by Kate Brooks in Economics, Politics, Refugees, Travel

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

asylum, discrimination, EU, followtherefugees, FYROM, human rights, immigration, middle east, morocco, openeuborders, palestine, refugees, refugeeswelcome, safepassage, war

IMG_2304I ignored the policeman’s advice about buses for normal people and tried to find a car full of refugees who spoke perfect English. When that failed I settled on one where between two of the four we could manage a pretty decent conversation. When refugees cross into Macedonia they are given the option of a taxi or a train to the Serbian border, for the same price per person. Problems arise because children under seven ride for free so no taxi driver wants to take more than one kid per car. A very large Afghan family will have to wait until the next train which is 10 hours away. In my car are four guys in their twenties who insist that I sit in the front despite the fact that I’m smaller than any of them. They are curious about what I’m doing, but find it less strange than most of the non-refugees I’ve spoken to. We each pay 25 euro, no one asks me to put in more. Before we leave I ask the driver if I have time to buy some water, and three of the four thrust unopened bottles at me.

Mahmoud, 27 and his brother Annas, 25 are from Palestine, Nasa, 29 and Nabin, 20 are from Morocco. For the next two hours we skirt across Macedonia to Tabanovtse. Nasa speaks French perfectly and English well enough so between the two we get by. I point out to him that Morocco is not at war, and he openly agrees and says he had no fear there, but no life. He left three years ago and has been floating around the Middle East ever since. Finally he decided to try his luck and wants to get to Norway because he likes the cold. ‘I could not stay just sitting any longer, I want to change my life. No war, but no future.’ A qualified mechanic, he could not get a job anywhere and wants to start a family. For a year and a half he’s had a Russian girlfriend he met in Egypt, ‘I was not like this when we met’ he assures me, ‘I was clean and had fresh dressing and nice face’. His girlfriend, who he has just left in Dubai, wants to live in Russia. He tells me they’ve just had an argument, ‘I love her, but she drive me so crazy- I had to delete what’s ap.’ The idea from what I can gather is that once he’s established himself as a millionaire mechanic in Oslo the girlfriend will forget about St Petersburg and follow. She paid for his flight to Istanbul and this is a source of great shame for him. He averts my eyes as he says it, and you can tell this man is crippled by how powerless he feels to control his own future. ‘I don’t have anything, sometimes this country, sometimes that country.  All I do is food, sleep, smoke.’  He is also very upset by having to accept charity in general. He had two large packs but they were stolen in Turkey and his belongings have been reduced to a plastic bag. ‘For 9 days now I have no shower, no wash. These clothes, they are not mine. I had to take them’

His friend Nabin is sporting an injury he sustained days ago on the boat journey to Greece. But they have not stopped to see a doctor. The 20 year old is incredibly pale and I tell them that once we get to the camp they should speak to a medic. But they are determined not to waste time and want to keep moving. ‘We cannot sleep, we need to move, we don’t like sitting’. The taxi driver later tells me that 10 000 people crossed over yesterday and in reality they will have to sit for a while on the Serbian side to be processed.

Mahmoud is 27 but easily looks ten years older than me. He speaks Hebrew, Swedish, Arabic and some English. He shows me the scars on his head and arms from where the Israeli soldiers shot at him in Hebron. He intervened to help a relative they were trying to take after an argument, and they turned on him. He tells me the situation has become so bad you cannot leave your home without being harassed. ‘We go to sleep, and the next morning there are new houses on our land.’ He feels that there is no hope for him in Palestine and things are getting worse, he acts out how soldiers in Gaza point guns at children. Mahmoud left the occupied West Bank a month ago and travelled to Turkey before crossing the Med. He made the decision to leave his wife and child behind and bring them over later rather than risk putting them on a boat. He shows me photos of his little girl who is 2 and has a huge bow on her head. The next photo is of him clutching someone else’s baby on a boat, less than 6 months old. He tells me the Turkish smugglers were even rough with the children. ‘The babies were very scared on the trip, we all had to help.’

photo 5

I ask them if they would ever go back to their countries. Nasa says maybe in ten years, to show his children. Mahmoud shakes his head, thinks about it, and then says ‘maybe in twenty’. He then shows me photos of the Al-Aqsa mosque and starts raving about its beauty. When I tell him I’ve been there he grows very excited. I tell Nasa I have also been to Casablanca and travelled in Morocco. Mahmoud’s face clouds over and he says, ‘international travel, that is so nice for you’ and I wish I had kept my mouth shut. While Moroccans can visit 56 countries visa free, it’s harder for Palestinians, and Mahmoud snuck out on a false passport. None of them have any papers, the Palestinians to start with and the Moroccans since Turkey where the smugglers put a gun to their head and took their documentation, claiming they would be turned back otherwise. They are all amazed by how nice people in Europe are, and I am too much of a coward to tell them this will not always be the case.

I mention ISIS. The Palestinians don’t know much about it, but rage visibly flashes through Nasa. ‘These people have no religion’ he tells me, ‘they are not Muslim, they are not human’. He goes on to explain how what they do is harem, and Islam forbids it. As a way of making me understand, he talks about how to be a Muslim it is very important to be clean, inside and out, and no one from ISIS can be clean. When I ask why he thinks people are going to fight with them, his explanation is surprisingly economic. ‘C’est fou, but they think it’s the only way to get a house and money… People like me, who want a better life, but they are crazy.’ He is not worried about any of them coming to Europe this way and laughs when I ask, ‘they take the planes… It is the people running from them who take the boats’.

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They ask me about my plans once we get to the camp, and I explain I can’t cross with them but will return to visit that night with a contact in Skopje. Mahmoud immediately grows concerned and tells me this is not a good idea and I need to be careful. ‘I am afraid for you’. After a couple of hours in the car this man is sincerely concerned for my well being and starts quizzing me on how I know this person. His almost brotherly worry is so genuine I’m taken aback.

When we get to the crossing I’m suddenly overcome with I don’t know what. I’ve heard many people describe the situation here as a form of apartheid, and every time I’ve dismissed such a label as excessive and exaggerated. But now that I’m here and I’m living it, now that I go one way and they go another, that’s exactly what it feels like. While I will walk across a border and flash my passport, these kind, generous, funny and smart men who I’ve spent the last two hours talking and joking with, who have shared with me, have to spend hours in a dirty camp being pushed from here to there not knowing what’s going on. These are my friends now and it just doesn’t seem fair. Before I even realise what’s happening I’m blubbering, and the poor, hungry refugees who haven’t slept in days and have been walking for hours try to comfort the privileged, well fed Australian girl who will sleep in a hotel room tonight and can’t keep her shit together. It would have been hilarious in its ludicrousness, but I am so ashamed by my own good fortune that I can’t see the humour in it at all.

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This is why we survive; this is why humanity will endure whatever evil has to throw at it.

11 Wednesday Nov 2015

Posted by Kate Brooks in Economics, Politics, Refugees

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

asylum, australia, discrimination, EU, followtherefugees, greece, human rights, humanitarianism, immigration, middle east, openeuborders, refugees, refugeesgr, refugeeswelcome, safepassage, syria, united nations, war

Nationality is not something you think about that much when you have a ‘good one’. The whole concept of being a refugee revolves around a lack of protection from the state, something that people in the west generally don’t have to worry about. Nationality can be a source of pride and a source of shame, for me it has definitely been both. The only other Australian I met on Lesbos was a woman who emigrated there twenty years ago. And volunteers and aid workers alike were all very surprised to learn where I was from. We really do have the most atrocious international reputation concerning this issue, and I would like to see Dutton or Turnbull try and justify it to the mayor of Sykemia or Molyvos, or the mayor of Lesbos who has consistently reiterated that it makes no difference where these people come from, we are all human. These people haven’t done anything wrong, and one day, that could be us.

IMG_2134Nationality also plays a role amongst the refugees. I was ignorant of the tension between Syrians and those who come from further east. Because they are more likely to be wealthy, the Syrians can pay for private taxis and buses rather than wait for the state supplied transport, thus they reach the processing centres and eventually their final destination more quickly. The Afghans have capitalised on this and sell Syrians who arrive after them their fingerprint documentation. I was surprised to learn of such entrepreneurship. Being in less of a rush allows people from Afghanistan the time to go through the processing, and after they no longer need the paper work (to board ferries), they sell it to Syrians who want to speed up crossing the orders. This gives the Afghans money and buys the Syrians time. The Afghans then have to line up at the next border while the Syrians pass through. Every time the authorities think they have come up with a full proof way to control the situation, within days the refugees have outsmarted them and found a way around it. You just can’t control population movements on this scale.

I speak to an aid worker from Swiss organisation Medecine du Monde who tells me about his PHD in post-2011 migration from Libya. When the conflict began tens of thousands of Bangladeshi, Sri Lankan and Pakistani workers, mostly domestic and labour, were left stranded with no help from their governments. On the contrary, China hired a Greek ferry, a Malta airport and evacuated 32 000 of its citizens within a week. The difference between a government that cares and a government that doesn’t is a matter of life and death.

From the Greek Islands and Athens the refugees head north by bus to the border with the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM). The camp on the Greek side where I am now is north of Thessaloniki and called Idomeni. Depending on numbers refugees can spend anywhere from 20 minutes to 6 hours waiting to cross. It is a separate border to the official crossing, and I have been told I won’t be allowed to cross over with them tomorrow but will have to travel further along to the regulated border. So determined are the authorities to distinguish between ‘us’ and ‘them’ that we can’t even cross the same frontier in the same place. Police ensure that people cross in groups of 50, and the refugees walk along the rail line into FYROM. Here the authorities are pragmatic and everything is very regulated. As far as FYROM is concerned, these people do not really exist and it is just about creating a corridor to get them out as quickly as possible. After crossing they are charged 25 EU for a train to the Serbian border. There is one train every 3 hours and the largest holds 1500 people. As long as the borders further north stay open everything is calm. But aid workers fear what will happen if Austria, Slovenia, Croatia or Serbia decide to close their borders. Earlier this year Hungary made just that decision and panic made the system unmanageable. Another factor out of everyone’s control is the weather. The last week has seen temperatures above 20C and sunny days, but when it rains and the temperature drops people get sick. They may have to walk in the cold for hours and will often present with hypothermia and other health problems that make an otherwise composed situation tense.

IMG_2135The overall atmosphere is always one of onward movement. Stopping is not an option- these people do not want to stop, and nobody wants them to stop ‘here’. Its fine if they decide to stop in Serbia or Germany or Sweden, or if they had stopped in Turkey. But no one wants them to be their problem. My Medecine du Monde guide is another open border advocate; I’ve been surprised by how many I’ve met. He makes a lot of sense. Whenever there is an announcement about one of the countries along the route closing the borders, panic is rampant and there is a spike in numbers. It is this sense of urgency induced by governments flexing their muscles that potentially renders the situation out of control. He maintains that this is not a humanitarian crisis, it’s a political crisis. A statement validated by EU paralysis in coming to an agreement on how to deal with the situation. The humanitarian disaster could be solved by very quick decisions; more permanent infrastructure, better facilities, correct information on processing and procedures. But governments don’t want that. Governments want to maintain the allure and facade of border protection and a temporary problem, which is rubbish given the fact that many of these people are running from protracted situations. Above all people here advocate for a ‘ferry first’ approach. A large boat crosses from Turkey to Lesbos every day, but the refugees cannot get on it despite the fact that it is almost empty. There is no understanding such a prohibition when people then chose to get on rickety boats and risk their lives anyway. Until the government and the EU do something about that it is hard to imagine anyone taking their attempts at compassionate rhetoric seriously.

This idea of thinking beyond the nation state challenges usual perceptions of refugees vs economic migrants, though the line between these two is often so blurred it is hard to make judgments that one is more deserving than the other. Economic migrants by definition have something to offer our societies. Although they may be seen as less worthy, in practice they are less of a drain on countries’ economies, particularly countries within the EU, Australia, Japan, Korea, which all have aging populations and will depend upon migration for their future survival. The 1951 Convention that determines status and who is entitled to refugee protection was drafted in response to a very particular context after WW2, that resembles nothing like the current global situation. The drafters had in mind Jewish elite academics forced to flee the holocaust, not Syrian families running from war. But valid fears exist that any attempts at redrafting the Convention will result in more rather than less restrictions on who is offered protection. Categorising people who need to flee just seems so pointless. The world is shaking just as much as it was in 1945, it’s just that it’s not shaking in our backyard anymore.

IMG_2117While nationality may divide us still, it is heart-warming to see the number of refugees who have formed groups in their travels, showing the natural human desire to always be part of a collective. No man is an island, and none of us want to journey alone. And the biggest collective of all is humanity. Jamal, the man who quit his job to live a life of volunteering told me how he was walking up to a camp one day when he was called into the bushes by three cheeky young unaccompanied Afghan boys who were eating food distributed by emergency staff around a fire they had lit to keep warm. They motioned for him to join them and shared their sandwiches, without knowing when their next meal would be. They also then tried to give him their lighter as a present. The gift of food and the gift of warmth, from three boys who had consistently not had access to either. I’m going to use Jamal’s words because I can’t put it any better. “This is why we survive; this is why humanity will endure whatever evil has to throw at it. It’s because of our capacity to share in the most extreme of circumstances.” Regardless of what symbol we have on the front of our passports.

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I don’t want to have to tell them that it’s because they are Syrian

10 Tuesday Nov 2015

Posted by Kate Brooks in Economics, Politics, Refugees

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

asylum, EU, followtherefugees, greece, human rights, immigration, lesbos, middle east, openeuborders, refugees, refugeesgr, refugeeswelcome, safepassage, syria, war

IMG_2149Being on Lesbos without a car makes life interesting, but with so many volunteers running all over the place hitch hiking has been pretty easy. This morning though I was picked up by two locals who didn’t speak a word of English. That didn’t stop them however from conveying their anger about how life jackets have just been left everywhere. As we drive along the dirt road there are bulldozers collecting the brightly coloured vests, and the elderly Greek men look genuinely pained as they wave their arms about and gesture widely. I do understand their irritation, this is a gorgeous island and it has been turned into a dump, but at the same time I didn’t think about where I tossed vests as I peeled them off screaming wet children yesterday. And I don’t think one could be expected to.

beachburnA story that stirs up more empathy is one of a policeman losing it at a group of refugees who broke branches off olive trees to burn. Olives mean more to the Greeks than just economics, and I get the policeman’s fury. But his claims that they are savages miss the point, what would you do if you were walking through a foreign country and it was dark and cold and you had nothing to keep you warm? Certain businesses have capitalised on the situation and charge refugees as much as $30 for a thin blanket. UNHCR is handing out one blanket per three children. It’s not surprising that left out in the open they reach for the nearest branch. Do you question what is growing on the tree when your body is at risk of hypothermia? Do you freeze to death in a ditch or do you light a fire?

IMG_2222-0After the refugees arrive they are sent to one of two ‘bus stops’ depending on which part of the coast they land. Although these are supposed to be transit points, in reality there are not enough buses to the main camps and people end up spending the night. Emmanuel is 23 and through Euro Relief runs the stage 2 bus stop outside of Skala. At its maximum occupancy it had 2500 people at once, 1200 overnight. It’s tidy and controlled, and I’m told nothing like the two main processing camps near the capital. ‘Oxy’, the other bus stop, is the opposite. There are no functioning toilets or clean running water, so refugees relieve themselves in the hills and when it rains human waste runs down into the makeshift camp. There is no order and there doesn’t seem to be any control. One person tells me it’s a biological nightmare waiting to happen and it’s only a matter of time before disease is rampant.

12189897_10156320495615691_4323813710355367176_nThe Greek government doesn’t want to do anything to give the situation an element of permanency, and as a result infrastructure is severely lacking. A representative of Samaritans Purse, a US organisation that deals with water management and hygiene, tells me he has a trailer with four sparkling toilets waiting to be brought in, and they can’t get government approval. The authorities are essentially unnecessarily keeping people in this squalor. Denying that this situation is not at the least going to be prolonged is absolute madness. An outbreak of cholera or dysentery is going to leave a much bigger stain on the community than a couple of portaloos.

In complete contrast to this chaos is the Lighthouse Refugee Relief camp that has popped up off the main road. A Swedish-run organisation, you would be forgiven for thinking you were in a camping ground. If you want to give money directly to people working on Lesbos, without question- give it to them. To avoid tension with the community, Lighthouse have had the sense to rent the land and buy all supplies from local businesses. It seems so obvious and logical, but as far as I’ve seen no one else is doing it as well. I’m very attracted to the anarchists who have set up shop next door on public land with their anti-capitalist slogans, but the reality is that they’re not as effective or organised. Sometimes you just want Scandinavians to come in and do a job well.

Anna from Lighthouse tells me some of the stories of people who have passed though. One man’s wife jumped off the boat as it was leaving Turkey, so terrified she became of the sea, and the boat wouldn’t go back to pick her up. He arrived with their two children, terrified about what the smugglers may have done to her, and waited until she thankfully arrived a few days later. Lighthouse asks the people who stay with them to help with maintaining the camp, and two young Syrian guys actually stuck around for several days to help with cleaning and translating. Literally, fresh off the boat volunteer refugees. I don’t think I’ll ever have a good excuse not to do anything ever again. I ask Anna if she’s ever felt uncomfortable, a pretty blonde girl often surrounded by young, single Afghan and Arab men. She tells me she feels more comfortable here than back home. There was one incident where a man hit his wife, and she very loudly scolded him, but other than that the thousands of people passing through has been incident free. Like the emergency centre on Athens, the camp is full of charging iphones and other electronics. Nothing has ever gone missing.

IMG_2224-1I ask her how she feels about recent anti-immigrant sentiment in Sweden and she says that she’d rather be here. It is so tough going home and hearing people who have so much complain about so little. Her respect for the people that she’s met is clear, some get off the boats and rather than wait for the buses will start walking the two day hike to the capital. She is resolute that they should all be helped, ‘if they make this journey, they have a reason’. Often they arrive and the first thing they ask is how they can get a taxi or where can they book a hotel room. Imagine going somewhere and upon arrival finding out that there’s no room in any inn because of your nationality? As Anna said, no matter how much she tries, she will never really understand, she has a Swedish passport and can go anywhere. I agree. Though I consistently bitch and moan about my lack of an EU passport, the first thing I did when I got here was check into my hotel. I didn’t have to prove anything. ‘That is really difficult’ she admits, ‘saying that they can’t get in that car or stay in that room… I don’t want to have to tell them that it’s because they are Syrian’.

IMG_2226-1A common story I’m hearing is of the lies told by the smugglers on the other side of the water. There are wild stories around ‘what they tell them’. People show up in Greece expecting that once they get to Germany or Sweden they’ll be given a house. Some people believe that after the boat journey everything else on out will be smooth sailing. Others are acutely aware they have weeks of travel in front of them, often on foot. None of them seemed to realise just how dangerous the boat trip could be. Smugglers tell the refugees to knife the inflated dingys once they are close to shore or else they may be turned around. But people who have never known the sea don’t know what a safe distance is, and many end up in the water.

IMG_2237On Oct 28 a boat sank and despite the best efforts of Frontex and the Proactiva Spanish lifeguards several people drowned. Lack of coordination meant that the rescue ship was swamped and for some time couldn’t move to assist. The captain and crew saw children drown from the deck and couldn’t do anything. It is not only the refugees here who are traumatised, and there is definitely some resentment towards parents for getting on these boats with such young children. I hear words like selfish and irresponsible. Pregnant women arrive daily and a 2 day old baby has been on a boat in the last week. Rescuers are here to patrol the waters and help boats in distress, they are not supposed to have a political opinion, but there doesn’t seem to be a great understanding that choosing not to leave could be as irresponsible a decision for their children as risking the short boat journey. Most do make it in without incident. If you’ve lived for years without being able to take your children to school or leave the house, maybe at some point waiting for your luck to change becomes more unbearable than taking fate into your own hands.

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How do you choose who gets to stay warm?

07 Saturday Nov 2015

Posted by Kate Brooks in Economics, Politics, Refugees

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

asylum, greece, lesbos, refugees, refugeesgr, refugeeswelcome

IMG_2114Before you even touch down at Mytilene airport evidence of the catastrophe on the Greek Island of Lesbos can be seen from the air. Thousands of orange and red life vests of all sizes litter the beaches. On the taxi ride into town groups of refugees line the streets with backpacks, some are still wet and have evidently just arrived. By law local taxis are forbidden from driving the refugees, but in reality many bend the rules. I share one with a Greek contractor, and after guiltily checking left and right our taxi driver ushers an Afghan man into the back seat.

The generosity of the Greek people has floored me. While they are clearly angry at a lack of European solidarity, not one has shown a hint of animosity towards the refugees themselves. They are frustrated by the economic situation and by the lack of response from authorities, but no one has uttered anything even remotely close to a call to turn people back. Instead what I consistently hear is a call for safe passage.

IMG_2142The travel agent at Mytilini bus station tells me that this is because Greeks are all too familiar with having to leave their homes. Many of them were displaced themselves during the civil war. “We have lived the same thing” she says. A fisherman points out that a child drowning looks the same whether he is Greek or Syrian. It is only distance that allows people to dehumanise. Australians are able to advocate sending people back to where they came from because these people are kept far away from them, on remote pacific islands, and only exist so far as they are part of a mass. When you see a sodden family walking through your town, carrying all their belongings on their back, no one considers physically turning them around and pushing them back out to the ocean. But in effect this is what we do. People need to realise that in practice the result is the same, geography just allows you to look away more easily.

The travel agent expresses annoyance at how the refugees treat the environment, and admits certain parts of the island no longer feel like her home. But she is quick to say that there have not been any problems between them and the local population. Lesbos has not seen an increase in crime, despite the thousands who have passed through. Her frustrations are practical; the economic situation, long term prospects for the tourism industry, and how Greece is going to cope with accommodating the thousands more who are inevitably going to continue arriving. In response to demand the agency has started selling package tickets that include the ferry ride, assistance on the mainland and then a bus directly to the Macedonian border. She acknowledges that for now the refugees and influx of volunteers and journalists are keeping the economy going. But she is fearful that the tourism industry has suffered irreparable damage and the island will never regain its reputation. 4 cruise ships diverted to different islands this summer.

IMG_2126Instead of holiday makers the port is cluttered with refugees, and I admit that it felt uncomfortable. But it wasn’t so much that I felt threatened as that I felt spooked, as if it were a ghost town. These weren’t people so much as they were bodies. Empty vessels of shell shocked individuals who had breath in them but no life. They lay everywhere, some had tents and sleeping bags and napped, but none of them were present, they were just waiting.

The difference in how certain groups of refugees are perceived is astonishing. From the moment the boats wash ashore people are categorised based on their nationality. Syrians are immediately distinguished from other groups and sent to their own camp. And local empathy towards them seems greater. From what I can gather this is because they tend to have more money, which in turn gets put back into the economy and means they can move on more quickly. While the Afghans are poor and will wait around for a week until they receive Western Union transfers, I see several Syrians withdrawing cash from ATMs and eating in restaurants. Some will even pay for hotels if they can find an owner who will break the rules. They are also better educated and speak more English so can communicate with the Greeks.

The bus to the north of the island where I am now was full of volunteers, and there are accents from every corner of the globe. It is the volunteers who spot the boats coming and rescue people in distress. Other than the Greek coastguard, there does not appear to be government help. NGO workers line the beach at night with lights and binoculars and are the only look outs that may pick up a boat before it crashes into rocks. The entire island has two ambulances responding to the crisis, so volunteers end up driving pregnant women and injured children to hospitals. A few days ago Tsipras was here and I’m told that almost overnight the island was spotless for his arrival. The locals want to know why such effort can’t be directed towards saving lives and organising the situation more effectively.

Unlike the emergency centre I was in yesterday, these camps are not well resourced. There are not enough of them and they have nowhere near enough essential supplies. Other than categorising refugees based on where they are coming from and issuing documentation, there seems to be zero organisation. On a busy day this results in absolute chaos as aid workers are inundated with more people than they can handle. A Canadian volunteer paints a dire picture, ‘Last week we had 600 blankets and 3000 people in one day, how do you choose who gets to stay warm?’

IMG_2139Everyone advocates for opening the land border. The sea is clearly not deterring anyone and hundreds of lives are being lost as a result. These people know where they are going, I hear a story of a little Afghan girl who was plucked out of the ocean and tried speaking to her rescuer in broken German. The Greeks are angry with Germany for imposing austerity measures on them over the summer, and there is a keen sense that Germany owes them and is not paying its own debt. But the government and the EU are determined to maintain the appearance of Fortress Europe, despite the fact that its walls are crumbling all around.

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It’s all Greek to Me

22 Wednesday Aug 2012

Posted by Kate Brooks in All, Economics, Politics, Travel

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

athens, crisis, economics, EU, euro, greece, poverty

IMG_0565Stepping off the plane onto the tarmac at Thira Airport on the idyllic landscape of Santorini, one would be forgiven for doubting the seriousness of Greece’s current economic situation. Indeed, here the people smile, the streets are full of tourists with well lined pockets, hotels are bustling, and the price of a sandwich is exuberant even by European standards. However, the tropical paradise remains one of the few places still boasting robust commerce in this economically flailing nation. The fact that you are more likely to hear English in a variety of accents over the native tongue, is sign enough that the islands are not an accurate indication of what is going on in the country at large.

A few hours ferry ride to Athens paints an entirely different picture altogether. In a city that boasts the birth of democracy and a plethora of archaeological testaments to mankind’s wisdom, it is clear that the Greek capital is struggling to keep its head above water. Shops and businesses all over Athens have closed as a result of the crisis. Buildings remain derelict and empty, if not filled with squatters who live amongst a stench that can only be described as putrid. Unemployment is at an all time high, and Greek youth have little hope of employment within their borders after graduating from University.

So far the crisis in Greece has managed to destroy the economy and annihilate a government, as well as threaten the future of the Euro and potentially the European Union. But alongside these economic outcomes, Greece has seen an increase in youth unemployment (now at approximately 50%), crime and suicide rates. While much has been written and published about the Greek economy and the failure of politicians to find a solution, the human side of this crisis too often seems to be forgotten. When a country’s economy has failed, there are inevitably people behind it suffering grossly. This is a quick look at the plight of the Greek individual behind the statistics.

Greek youth are generally well informed, educated and worldly. More than twenty percent of the population in Greece is under 35 and financial difficulties are presenting huge problems for young people. An average of more than 1000 people have lost their jobs every week since 2009. Greeks are known for a willingness to converse with anyone and help people out wherever they can, but increases in suicides, attempted suicides, the use of anti-depressant medication and the need for psychiatric care are causing great concern in a country not used to such issues. For a country that had one of the lowest suicide rates in the world, experts estimate that Greece’s suicide rates have doubled in the past two years.

In the wake of the ongoing financial crisis, public fears over vandalism and violent crime appear to have risen dramatically, often in conjunction with increased concerns over illegal immigration and drug abuse. One government report estimated that drug use in Athens jumped from 7,400 in 2008 to 12,000 in 2009, coinciding with the first wave of the global financial crisis. Murders in Greece have more than doubled since 2006, with the annual figure rising from 83 to 175 in 2010.

On an average 40C day in summer, the streets of Athens are filled with homeless youth. One young man who looks like he hasn’t eaten in weeks lies on a doorstep, his head tilted back and mouth wide open while flies buzz around him in the scorching heat. The scene is more reminiscent of a malnourished beggar in an Ethiopian town than a busy street in this once thriving metropolis. Awakened from his drug induced comatose state, the young man looks at an offered bottle of water as though it is a foreign substance, mutters incoherently and collapses again. Not long after, a slightly healthier looking man grabs the water left at the beggar’s side and strolls away. This is what it has come to, one unfortunate man stealing from an even less fortunate soul; because in the struggle to survive there is no room for a code of ethics.

When the author attempted to find help, two local business people smiled sadly, shrugged and lamented that it was now a common occurrence in Athens. People die on the street because they are hungry, because they have nowhere else to go, and no one to help them. A girl working in a nearby cafe promises to keep an eye on him and call for help if he gets worse, but worse is hard to contemplate. The authorities it seems have larger problems to deal with then a young man at death’s door on a sidewalk.

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Forever intrepid gypsy at heart. Lover of pasta, the ocean, yoga and red wine. Believer in human rights, international law and justice. Can't sing, spell or cook. Terrified of snakes and diets. Views are my own.
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