Samir Dathi & Marienna Pope-Weidemann report from the Greek-Turkish border and the deadly fence forcing
refugees to cross the perilous Aegean sea
December 2015
Photography by Marienna Pope-Weidemann
'The Monument for Refugees?' the bar woman frowned. 'Sorry, I do not know this
place.' Apparently none of the locals did, and it wasn’t on the town
map. We had just crossed the border from Turkey and arrived in Orestiada,
a small Greek border town founded by Turkish refugees in 1923. The
Monument for Refugees commemorates those families who left Turkey for
Greece—often under duress—as part of the population exchange between the two
countries.
Greece and Turkey are divided by the mighty Evros river, a fierce natural
barrier for those seeking to cross the border. But northeast of
Orestiada, where the Evros bends, 12.5km of that border is dry land. Since time
immemorial, this ‘gap’ in the river has provided safe passage for refugees
through Turkey into Europe.
In recent years it’s been trodden by 100,000s refugees, mostly from
Afghanistan, Syria and Iraq. They pass through in search of asylum from
countries wrecked by war, poverty and climate change. But that’s all over
now. Greece has raised the drawbridge and Orestiada has become a bastion of Fortress Europe.
The Evros fence
The fence was built by the right-wing Samaras administration in 2012. 12.5km of
13ft tall razor wire fencing complete with heat sensors now block this entry
point, and over a thousand special police officers have been deployed to guard
the Evros border. Clearly the austerity regime spares no expense when the
threat of immigration is concerned. The land on both sides is designated a
‘controlled military zone’ and when we visited we were under constant scrutiny
by our police escort and two stern-faced soldiers.
Whilst the militarisation of the border has achieved a sharp reduction in
‘irregular crossings’ here, it has forced more refugees to cross the perilous
Aegean Sea, where soaring numbers of people are drowning in their quest for
asylum. As one young Kurdish refugee told us, 'no one endangers their
children’s lives unless they have to. We have to. To stay is death or slavery.'
Boats have been going down in the Aegean and claiming double-figure casualties
since 2012. From September of this year there has been an astronomical surge
in sea crossings and the death toll is rising sharply. 20 October set a
new record, with over 10,000 arrivals in a single day. The following week, as
over 50,000 people attempted the crossing, at least 50 people drowned in just 72 hours. 17
were infants. Another 6 infants drowned along with five
others when their boat sank on Sunday 1 November. Many more have
drowned since.
We put this to Orestiada’s police chief, Pashalis Syritoudis. He has played a
leading role in border control in the Evros region. He is an officious looking
man, impeccably smart, with neat grey hair and a humourless face. 'This
operation has had very impressive results' he told us proudly. He went through
the stats: 28,000 were arrested in 2011, and 23,000 in 2012. But with the
fence, 2013 saw just 492 arrests. To him this was a clear barometer of success:
fewer arrests mean fewer refugees attempting to cross his border.
We pointed out that following his operations, drownings have increased in the
Aegean. Syritoudis was un-phased: 'We are obligated to protect the borders of
the EU. So this is what we do.' He then added as an afterthought, 'Of course we
don't like what’s going on in the islands and we hope for a political
solution.' When we asked him what that solution might look like, he became
irritated: 'I cannot answer a political matter. I do whatever the headquarters
tell me.'
We then questioned him on the widespread reports of illegal pushbacks in the Evros. Tales of
the pushbacks are commonplace in the camps, which might have something to do
with why journalists are forbidden to interview refugees there. Human Rights Watch and Amnesty
International recently published reports of refugees who managed to cross the
Evros being robbed, beaten and forced back into Turkey by unidentified men in
violation of international law.
Syritoudis was dismissive at first. 'The Greek police doesn't approve and
doesn't use these methods… these claims about push backs are part of a general
plan to unfairly accuse the police.' When we asked if anyone else might be
responsible for these abuses, he was categorical: No. If that were happening in
his jurisdiction, he’d know about it.
The First Reception Centre
Despite these operations, some refugees do manage to cross the Evros river into
Greece where they are arrested and detained at the First Reception Centre on
the outskirts of a nearby village, Fylakio. The centre was established in 2013
to hold people during their asylum applications. It was supposed to get the
refugees out of prison and into a more humane facility providing medical, legal
and psychosocial support.
We visited the Frist Reception Centre and interviewed its Director, Christos
Christakoudis. We had read damning reports from 2014 that
criticised its inhumane and degrading conditions. And for a reception centre
designed to eliminate the need for prisons, it looks an awful lot like the
detention centre next door. The perimeter bristles with razor wire,
studded with armed guards and angry dogs.
Christos greeted us warmly, dressed casually in jeans and T-shirt. We
immediately asked if we could see where the refugees live, but their huts were
fenced off in a separate section of the facility. They were unable to leave
their caged area, and we were not allowed in. All we could do was observe them
on the other side of the fence. As the refugees saw us approach, they
excitedly huddled to the fence to talk to us, clearly not used to visitors.
'Reporter? BBC?' asked one man, eager to tell us his story. We mimed to him
that we were not allowed to speak. Another inmate beseeched us repeatedly: 'It
is no good here. Like a prison' and 'Police bad! Where is UN?' One young boy
told us quietly 'I want to run away.'
We later learnt these particular refugees were Yazidi, a group that has
suffered extreme brutality at the hands of ISIS in northern Iraq. Now they find
themselves imprisoned in the place where democracy was born.
December 2015
Refugees at the
First Reception Centre near the village of Fylakio
We asked Christos why the refugees had to be locked up. Was this appropriate
for victims of war and torture, for women and children? Christos explained it
was in their best interests. 'Where will those people stay? Who will manage
their food if you have an open place? ... If those people are in the open air,
you cannot provide for them.'
We were unconvinced and pressed the matter; Greek law demands detention be a
last resort. His next argument was lack of resources: 'If we were well
organised as a state, as a country, if we had the funding to support open
reception centres, of course. But according to my experience, I don’t think it
is something that can happen.'
