The Refugee Industry in Turkey

IZMIR, Turkey — In one of the poorest neighborhoods in Izmir, Syrian refugees cluster in decrepit buildings and cheap hotels, counting the days until they can leave Turkey and head for Greece or other European countries.

Often referred to by locals as “little Syria” due to the influx of Syrian refugees, Basmane, a district located in the center of Izmir — Turkey’s third largest city — has changed dramatically since Syria’s brutal, relentless civil war caused the city’s population to surge. Everywhere in Basmane, Arabic banners and signs dot the streets. Syrian refugees offer Turkey a new and growing market, and sellers are eager to take advantage of it. Money exchanges, cafés, barber shops, hotels, and jewelry stalls all advertise in Arabic.

According to estimates, there are currently over 70,000 registered Syrians in Izmir. The actual number of unregistered refugees is likely much higher, bringing the total to 100,000 Syrian refugees. In a survey conducted by Uluslararası Mülteci Hakları Derneği, a Turkish association for international refugee rights, the majority of Syrian refugees arriving in Turkey are between the ages of nineteen and sixty-five, making them of working age. Nevertheless, many are unable to find either a job or a stable home life in Turkey.

According to Turkey’s law on foreigners and international protection, which came into effect in April 2014, Syrian asylum seekers are entitled to protection and can obtain one-year residence permits, as long as they have valid Syrian passports or travel documents. Those without the residence permits can only legally stay in Turkey for ninety days.

This seemingly simple requirement is a daunting obstacle for many Syrians in Turkey. Most refugees fled their homes quickly, without much preparation and certainly without gathering their legal documents. Even when refugees have the requisite papers, they may still encounter various obstacles to settling down in Turkey. The language barrier is the greatest challenge, followed by work restrictions, which limit the positions available to refugees. The lack of services offered in Arabic also hinders the refugees’ ability to gain access to basic public facilities, such as hospitals or healthcare.

While many Syrians still choose to remain in Turkey, most leave the refugee camps for other cities, such as Izmir, Istanbul, or Ankara. Others try and migrate to Europe despite the dangers and risks associated with that journey. This has in turn created profitable opportunities for human traffickers.

From the Basmane bus terminal, or the Üçkuyular terminal in another part of Izmir, refugees can catch a bus to Çeşme (a coastal town dominated by tourists and located just fifty miles from Basmane) that has become a crossing point for refugees hoping to reach the Greek island of Chios.

Though far removed from Izmir’s urban setting, Çeşme is twice as expensive, making it more difficult for refugees to meet their basic needs. Because of these circumstances, most refugees prefer to stay in Izmir province until they receive a call from traffickers, ready to take them from Çeşme to Greece.

In Çeşme, remnants of these frequent journeys across the sea can be found in various forms: a half-finished milk bottle, a life vest, a baby shoe, a pack of cigarettes, a bandage with a label in Arabic, articles of women’s clothing. These items have been discarded in haste, willingly sacrificed by their owners in order to make the journey easier. Surveying the scene, one cannot help but wonder how long these possessions have lingered on the beach. Were they left yesterday? Today?

These abandoned items reflect the contradictions at play in their surroundings. On one side of the beach are five-star hotels and resorts, the nexus of the coastal town’s revenue sources. On the other side, on slivers of sandy beach and green areas, refugees can be found gathering together before their journeys.

During my trip to Çeşme, I met several refugees who had been living in an area outside Çeşme’s city center. Their temporary tents and makeshift garment racks were neatly placed out of sight in the backwoods. Nearby, a black raft, floating in the water, was carefully hidden.

Sea journeys from Çeşme usually take place at night, in order to avoid detection by the Turkish coast guard. Even after departing, many boats can still be prevented from continuing onward by the Turkish coast guard. According to Farid, an Iraqi refugee I met in Çeşme, refugees can only afford to be spotted once. If it is their first time being caught, police will typically let them go. If caught a second time, the refugees risk being imprisoned.

Of course, these journeys depend on human traffickers. Transactions between refugees and traffickers are rarely made in person. Generally, they occur either via phone call or phone applications, like Whatsapp, which are secure and in Arabic. Many refugees cannot afford to pay the exorbitant costs most traffickers demand for their services. As a result, they often remain in Turkey temporarily, where they continue to struggle financially. The lucky ones are able to secure short-term employment, which may allow them to earn enough money to cross into Europe.

Until they can attempt the journey, whether to Europe or elsewhere, refugees remain here, stranded in Izmir. In Basmane, out and about in the neighborhood’s little cafés, refugees stand ready to leave at any second, their bags packed as a precaution.

The shops of Basmane, meanwhile, are ready to profit from the desperation of the refugees. At night, sellers offering life vests and other waterproof items open their stores and stalls, eager to serve customers preparing themselves for an imminent sea journey. The evening is the busiest part of the day for these merchants and stranded Syrians. Some refugees casually light cigarettes and sip on coffee, waiting to find their way across the Mediterranean. Others purchase items quickly and depart.

For those leaving, the day begins at night, and the night is only just beginning.