Escaping from Iran, Amena Namjoyan, accompanied by her spouse and young child, landed on the stony shores of Lesbos, a Greek island situated in the eastern part of the country. Their arrival marked one amongst hundreds of thousands that swamped the island for months. Local fishermen heroically staged rescue operations as boats disintegrated, and compassion brimmed as island grandmothers fed newly-arrived infants. Namjoyan found herself embroiled in crowded accommodations for several months.
In spite of adversity, including grappling with serious health issues, depression, and a crumbling marriage, she persisted in learning Greek. While she made an unsuccessful attempt to start afresh in Germany, she inevitably returned to the island of Lesbos that first opened its arms to her. Today, she cooks Iranian cuisine in a local restaurant, her dishes are local favourites, although locals may stumble over their names. She swells with pride when her second child identifies as Greek.
Namjoyan speaks fondly of Greece, ‘It resonates with my cultural roots and I feel a sense of belonging here.’ In 2015, a staggering total of over one million refugees and immigrants arrived in Europe, with Lesbos being the main landing site due to its proximity to Turkey. The sudden surge of individuals fleeing violence and destitution triggered a severe humanitarian crisis. A decade on, the impact remains perceptible on Lesbos and further afield.
For a significant number of these refugees, Greece was merely a temporary stopover. Their journeys continued towards the northern and western regions of Europe. Once their asylum applications were accepted, many were bestowed international protection; some even became European citizens. Conversely, countless were rejected, drowning in a seemingly interminable waiting period in refugee camps or living with uncertainties on the street.
Some detected no option but to return to their countries of origin, while others faced expulsion from the European Union. Despite this, Lesbos holds a special place for Namjoyan. It serves as a haven of acceptance for her, owing to the islanders’ shared history of refugeehood, and her proficiency in the Greek language makes it all the more welcoming.
Over the past decade, however, the migrant policy in Greece, reflective of that in much of Europe, has leaned more towards deterrence. Government officials and political leaders insist on the necessity for fortified borders. Critics argue that such a strict law enforcement approach infringes upon fundamental EU rights and values, cautioning against a concerning political drift to the right. They lament the fact that the topic of migration has ascended to the pinnacle of political discourse.
In Lesbos, at the apex of the migration crisis from 2015 to 2016, a small tavern stood on the precipice of a beach, bearing witness to their plight. It served as a refuge for boatloads of migrants as they landed on the island’s shores. The tavern’s owner provided sustenance and essential provisions as well as meals for humanitarian aid organizations.
The arrival of over a million people through Greece essentially morphed a humanitarian issue into a political crisis. Greece was grappling with a crippling economic crisis, and the increased influx ignited resentment towards the incumbent political parties, giving rise to populist forces. European Union countries disputed over the allocation of responsibility for asylum seekers, leading to fractures in unity.
Recently, irregular international migration has decreased across Europe and especially towards Greece. This is according to data from the International Organization for Migration. Smugglers have, however, leveraged increased surveillance to establish riskier routes. Despite the drop in numbers, politicians continue to zoom in on the issue of migration, sometimes stirring fear in public discourse.
In proximate distance to where Namjoyan currently resides, a large, EU-funded migrant facility lies nestled within a forest teeming with pine and olive trees. Capable of accommodating up to 5,000 individuals, the remote location of the facility has sparked criticism from locals, prompting them to question whether it was placed there deliberately, as a way to keep migrants out of sight and out of mind.
Last year, the EU approved a migration and asylum pact which places common rules for screening, asylum, detention, and deporation of those attempting unauthorized entry amongst other issues. The deal, sanctioned by the UN refugee agency, is set to take effect next year. Critics argue that it leans too far in favor of hardliners and that it jeopardizes the fundamental right to seek asylum.
One striking criticism of EU’s current migration policy is the alleged ‘externalization’ of border management. This scheme involves striking deals with countries across the Mediterranean, which agree to intensify patrols on their shores and house migrants in return for financial aid. These arrangements have broadened to include countries from the Middle East to Africa.
Today, the island’s residents reflect on the crisis of 2015 with mixed emotions. Fisherman Stratos Valamios contributed to rescue efforts, saving children from capsized boats. He also witnessed heartbreaking losses, like children slipping past his grasp only to wash ashore moments later. He expressed anger and sadness at the continued plight of refugees.
When observing the enduring legacy of the crisis, one can’t help but notice the cemeteries on Lesbos where unknown migrants lay at rest or the remnants of the journey that still litter its shores. Despite such reminders of the past, the residents of Lesbos remain hopeful. Individuals committed to helping migrants learn the local language and find employment believe that Lesbos’ tradition of aiding those in need can outlast restrictive national policies.