Refugee Crisis
Giving a voice to the voiceless
The refugee crisis continues apace amidst the COVID-19 pandemic.
Simply: there’s no way to cover war properly without risk. Covering a war means going into places torn by chaos, destruction, death and pain, and trying to bear witness to that. I care about the experience of those most directly affected by war, those asked to fight and those who are just trying to survive. Going to these places, finding out what is happening, is the only way to get the truth. Despite all the videos you see on television, what’s on the ground has remained remarkably similar for the past 100 years. Craters. Burnt houses. Women weeping for sons and daughters. Suffering. In my profession, there is no chance of unemployment. The real difficulty is having enough faith in humanity to believe that someone will care.
Marie Colvin. The Sunday Times, 21 October 2001.
What did you do when you woke up this morning? You probably had your morning tea, coffee, or smoothie. You probably did your yoga or your morning workout and then you probably had your breakfast. You jumped into Zoom meetings for the rest of the morning, which were peppered with intermittent breaks for chocolate. Then, perhaps you ventured outside for your daily dose of exercise. You maintained a two-metre distance from everyone. You followed social distancing rules. And you did it all in silence. Only the inane sound of your back-to-back Zoom meetings, or the dulcet sounds from that Spotify playlist which you created, break the monotony of deafening silence. Life in lockdown means silence. A serendipitous, blissful, silent solitude interspersed with your voice and the voices of countless others commenting on the uncanny and unprecedented conditions. Talk of bewilderment and disorientation are frequent. Everything that should be “happening normally” isn’t “happening” at all. How could a seemingly innocent bat or pangolin from a wet market in the previously unheard of city of Wuhan, go on to unleash a virus of untold death and destruction? It’s simply bizarre. We voice our frustration and tell ourselves that this sort of thing is not supposed to happen to us.
Yet, whilst we voice our frustrations in relative peace and comfort, there are countries whose inhabitants are voiceless. They don’t experience the comfort of silence. They experience a thunderous cacophony of terrifying noise. For them, the ravages of war have continued and their worlds haven’t stopped because of COVID-19. In a world where nearly 1 person is forcibly displaced every two seconds as a result of conflict or persecution, the idea that the world has become a fairer, more equal society is unequivocally exposed as false. According to the latest data provided by the UNHCR, an unprecedented 70.8 million people are forcibly displaced worldwide. Among them are nearly 25.9 million refugees, over half of whom are under the age of 18. There are also millions of stateless people — around 3.9 million, but there are thought to be millions more — who have been denied a nationality and access to basic rights such as education, healthcare, employment and freedom of movement.
A closer look at the data reveals that 57% of UNHCR refugees come from three countries: Syria, Afghanistan and South Sudan. These three countries in particular have been destroyed by the ravages of war. In more than a decade of conflict, 6.7m refugees have poured out from Syria, 2.7m from Afghanistan and 2.3m from South Sudan. Tellingly around 80% of refugees live in countries neighbouring their countries of origin. Therefore it’s entirely unsurprising that Turkey, Pakistan and Uganda bear the brunt of the displacement, with Uganda clocking in at 1.2m, Pakistan 1.4m and Turkey with a staggering 3.7m. However, interned across Europe are thousands of migrants who have decided to forgo Turkey, Uganda and Pakistan for regions further afield. Denied freedom of movement, they live their lives in lockdown-limbo everyday. Cobbled together in overcrowded, squalid camps, these deadly conditions are the perfect breeding ground for the spread of any and all viruses, let alone COVID-19. Maintaining a two-metre distance is unheard of. Social distancing is nigh-on impossible. Yet, numbers, data and statistics only tell half the story.
Many of the migrants who journey further afield, end up in the bustling French port of Calais. Over 8000 refugees were once interned at Camp de la Lande, more commonly known as the ‘Calais Jungle’. Migrants stayed at the camp while they attempted to enter the UK, or while they awaited their French asylum claims to be processed. In October 2016, following numerous assaults on migrants and increasing hostility, the UK and French governments decided to evict the migrants and break-up the makeshift campsite. NGOs including Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International, Help Refugees and Save The Children condemned both governments for not respecting the rights of the many hundreds of children interned in the camp. Over 200 unaccompanied children aged 14–17 were lured out of the camp on the promise of transportation to asylum centres, yet were left abandoned on the streets of Calais. The final stages of the eviction saw over 1500 people sleeping in shipping containers whilst they waited to be moved to asylum centres in undisclosed locations across France. However many aid groups reported that many former jungle migrants had been moved to the cold, dreary streets of Paris.
Calais still hosts thousands of undoucmented families and children, with Human Rights Watch reporting that up to 3000 migrants, mostly unaccompanied children, were living rough on its streets in 2020. The United Nations along with a variety of NGOs and volunteers have repeatedly spoken out about the horrendous conditions for migrants in the area. Help Refugees have reported that since the closure of the “jungle” in October 2016, there were 1,301 recorded evictions in Calais, plus 173 evictions in the neighbouring camps in Grande-Synthe. Even now, the French police reportedly arrive at the makeshift camps, which are often just a few tents gathered together, and form large and ominous perimeters. They hold tear gas canisters and batons, intent on removing people from where they’re sleeping.
For one volunteer in particular, the harrowing scenes profoundly challenged her and sparked the need for change. Mathilda Della Torre, 23, is a French and Italian graphic designer currently studying for an MA in Graphic Communications Design at Central Saint Martins London. In 2018 alongside her Mother, she volunteered at the Calais Refugee Camps. What she bore witness to distressed and appalled her. Speaking to Wild Electric, she recalls, “I was so shocked that this was happening and that I hadn’t been aware of it. I thought everything had ended”, Della Torre says. “I felt embarrassed and naive to be French and not know about this. This wasn’t being reported on in the country of my birth. I was extremely shocked and disappointed at the media around me. The news was extremely racist and discriminatory”.
Noticing the negativity and overall lack of media coverage of the situation in Calais, Della Torre travelled to Dover with one objective in mind: shift the narrative and the overall media perspective. Throughout her time volunteering, she carefully noted all of her conversations with asylum seekers, refugees and displaced peoples. Now, armed with wheat pasting — a liquid adhesive created using wheat flour or starch mixed with water — and posters of the conversations, she started placing them on walls all over Dover.
Following that, she began the Instagram account called Conversations from Calais and in January 2020 she created the website. Initially starting with just her conversations on the posters, the project has now grown to include the stories of other volunteers too. “All the conversations start with you”, Della Torre says. “They’re always from the perspective of the volunteer. The “I” is the volunteer and the “You” is the displaced person. The importance of starting with “You” is putting the migrants voice at the start of everything we do”.
With nationalism, xenophobia and racism on the rise once more throughout Europe, projects like Conversations from Calais bring a much needed perspective and an urgently needed reality check. “These stories and these voices [of refugees] are there. It’s just that we’re not listening. It’s our responsibility for us to listen and to share these stories”, Della Torre says. With the posters translated into 10 different languages and availability in 5 continents and 50 cities, the impact of the project is being felt worldwide.
Traditional narratives around refugees have for decades focused on their helpless plight. The voiceless faces so often seen on posters and adverts by charities such as the UNHCR are now synonymous with the tragic conflicts in Syria, Yemen, Libya and others. Della Torre mentions that with Conversations from Calais the objectives differ from those of charities. “Charities have to show a very specific portrayal which is usually that we need to help them, and that we need to save them or that they’re heroes and we should treasure them in our society”, Della Torre says. “We want to break away from that traditional portrayal. A refugee is a person like you and me. They’re not a hero or a villain, or someone we need to save”.
Further afield on the islands of Samos and Lesvos, photojournalists such as Jerome Fourcade are documenting the everyday lives of the migrants and inhabitants of these once tranquil islands. His project ‘Diary of a European Bunker’, is an intimate and emotionally charged photo-documentary capturing the diversity of experiences for the thousands stuck in the Greek islands. One particular diary entry, ‘Diary of a European — 4’, recalls the thankless and seemingly hopeless work undertaken by Jerome on a daily basis:
This morning, I was arrested for taking pictures at a protest organized by refugee and asylum seekers being processed by the European Asylum Support Office and the Greek Asylum Services on the Island of Samos. They were protesting the unbearable living conditions of the Reception and Identification Center that the United Nations and Greek State is providing during this transition. The protest started at 7:15am. At 7:20am the police arrived. They arrested myself, as well as several local NGO volunteers and held us at the police station until 10:30am. They released us with a document that verified that we had been arrested, but no charges would be held against us. The reason for the arrest they left blank. When I returned to the scene, I was informed that the police fired tear gas to break up the protest, even though none of those involved had used violence.
This is not the first time the police in Samos have acted in this manner, with total impunity claiming false accusations, limiting freedom of expression, intimidating the press, NGOs and asylum seekers. The Greek state does not want to show the true face of these islands, located on the borders of Europe, transformed since the agreements with Turkey in 2016, into real open air prisons. Especially here on the island of Samos, which has become one of the worst places for refugees in Europe. A denial assumed and accentuated by the municipal and European elections that will take place tomorrow in Greece.
No, it’s not over. Work continues.
Similarly, Help Refugees volunteers Lorna Ellwood and Felix Lempriere have written about their experiences of working in Moria and added further weight to the fact that the situation there is unprecedented in Europe:
Personally, to find people subjected to the conditions here and within the bounds of modern day Europe ashamed me. The sheer scale of the camp is staggering and it seems unimaginable this crisis could be so little known. Life in Moria is an existence none should suffer, certainly not those who have endured such incredible hardship before reaching the gates of this hellish place.
Closer to home, Della Torre highlights the need for giving a voice to the voiceless especially during the time of COVID-19:
During these times of COVID-19 there are people suffering as much as everyone else. Sometimes I feel a bit guilty for reminding people, “Oh yeah, this is still happening in Calais”. At the beginning, I felt a little guilty, but actually I thought “no”. These lives are still being lived in. It’s not because we’re talking about one issue that we shouldn’t be talking about another. At the end of the day, they’re related. These people are affected by COVID-19 like everyone else.
Conversations from Calais, Everyday Refugees, Help Refugees, Jerome Fourcade’s ‘Diary of a European Bunker’ along with countless others all have one objective: to capture conversations that would otherwise go unheard. They’re removing the need to create polarising images of refugees as either heroes or hopeless. As Della Torre says, “We’re forgetting that we’re all humans and we should all have the same rights and opportunities. No one’s story should not be heard or not be listened to. Everyone has a story and it’s always worth listening”.
The voiceless have found their voice.
To find out more about the Conversations from Calais project visit the website here: https://www.conversationsfromcalais.com
To see all the Conversations from Calais stories check out their Instagram account here: https://www.instagram.com/conversationsfromcalais/
To find out more about the work of Choose Love | Help Refugees visit their website here: https://helprefugees.org/
Read the full blog about Moria refugee camp by Lorna Ellwood and Felix Lempriere here: https://helprefugees.org/volunteer-blog/moria-february-2020/
To find out more about Jerome Fourcade’s ‘Diary of a European Bunker’ visit the website here: https://www.jeromefourcade.com/blog
Some of the many NGOs working to provide better care, conditions and education for refugees around the world:
Still I Rise: https://www.stillirisengo.org/
Everyday Refugees Foundation: https://everydayrefugees.org/
Better Days: https://www.betterdays.ngo/
The Worldwide Tribe: https://theworldwidetribe.com/
Refugee4Refugees: https://refugee4refugees.gr/
Movement On The Ground: https://movementontheground.com/
