Apologies for the long silence- I have been biking for five days now, and time for writing has been sparse. By the time I finish my 60 miles or so, there is a pyramid of needs: food, shower and coordinating my next stop. Thus, progress on analytical posts has been slow, but steady. But worry not, I had fruitful discussions with experts in both Berlin and Dresden, and there will be two posts on the nuances of Germany’s approach to migration forthcoming – I promise In the meantime, I wanted to give you an overview of the biking in Germany. Experienced as I am, this tour humbled me a little. Turns out, I don’t know the biking routes in Germany as well, and had a few bike fit mishaps, which caused pain and delay. But all in all, it has been well worth it: once I reached the Elbe river, the closer to the Czech border I got, the more stunning the views became. The area is known as the Little Switzerland of Sachsen. First, a little on the challenge of getting to the Elbe river. Once on the river, I knew I would be able to follow a well traversed and well demarcated bike path, which follows the river. So the challenge was how to get there. I chose to bike to Torgau, a beautiful medieval town that was the most direct path to the river. Having biked from Amsterdam to Berlin two years ago, I was confident, I knew cycling in Germany: In the north, it’s cycling heaven: all streets are lined with bike paths, which are separated by a green strip, and every intersection has two directional signs, one for cars and one for bikes. The bike ones help cyclists find less traffic heavy, more scenic routes to the same destination. So, I presumed, one country, one biking standard. I had maps and a general sense that with the proper villages and cities lined up, I will find the bike paths with ease. I happily left Berlin, snapping pictures of all the beautiful street art, and pedaling on towards the Mauerweg. The Mauerweg is the bike path that lines the path of the former wall- you can bike or walk the entire length of it. I make a point of biking part of it every time I am in Berlin. It never fails to move me. Along the way, there are memorials of those, who died, trying to cross East to West. I stop at each one and read their life story. From the Mauerweg, I quickly got to the crossing demarcating the former border of the East and West Germany. :From then on, I happily pedaled through fields of corns and grains and into forests- just to have quite a surprise. Turns out, the south’s bike infrastructure is not quite as developed. There are still separated bike lanes along most routes, but they can also disappear. So it happened quite easily that I ended up on traffic heavy streets. In the attempt of getting off a narrow well traversed route with no shoulder, I turned to google cycling directions and ended up on a dirt path: Turns out that google and I disagree on the standards of a bike path. Thus ensued one hour through roads that I swear only hunting folks use. Well, who says that you can’t ride a carbon road bike off-road? (Apart from any mechanic tending to my bike, and my unhappy seat bones, of course). But those surprises aside, I finally did make it to Torgau. The ride there took me through beautiful corn fields, forests, and fields of sunflowers. Torgau itself is endearing: The charm of medieval towns never fails to move me, and I had the luck of staying in an ancient house too. Below some pictures of medieval buildings along the way. Once on the Elbe river, it was a joy to make my way towards Dresden- the path is mostly well paved with occasional cobble stone around ancient towns. The ride would have been perfect, besides thunderstorms: At least half of my day was spend pedaling through the rain. Despite rain gear, my speed and my excitement markedly declined with the constant drizzle and spontaneous downpour. But at least there were sunflower fields to make me happy. And even that misery was temporary: after a long lunch break at a German Inn right at the river (the Matjes fillets, potatoes, and German strudel hit the spot), finally the sun! That made pedaling to Dresden past many beautiful sights and adorable animals. Dresden was a welcome stop- I ended up staying longer than planned because of two reasons: an unfortunate stomach bug, and very sore seat bones. The latter was a cause of panic: experienced as I was, I never had that problem, and knew that the new saddle was to blame. But what to do? Buying a new saddle mid-tour is a risk, continuing was impossible. A conundrum. So who to ask, when in need of expert opinion? Bike messengers! Luckily, I passed a bike messenger company, and they immediately send me to the right bike store in town. With much luck, I found Meissner Raeder. They listened to my touchy situation with care, and immediately brought out a plastic statue of the pelvic to show me exactly which pain can be caused by what saddle misfit. I would love to nerd out about what I learned through this lecture, but I presume bike design is not the interest of my readers. Suffice to say, for now, my tour and seat bones were temporarily saved by a new saddle designed by German doctors - German science and engineering combined. The upside of an extra day resting meant, I got to see Dresden by night. It is truly the most beautiful town I visited at night. I ate dinner near the Frauenkirche, where two opera singing street artists brought tears to my eyes with the beauty of their voice. Everything happens for a reason, even the pains and delays. The next day cycling brought me through gorgeous German little towns, like Pirna, and others, and the joy of taking little ferries across the river to see the towns and different views. Approaching the Czech border was just breathtakingly beautiful. Mountains lining the river, ancient stone walls, dense forests and air smelling both crisp of the river and of pines. I highly recommend anyone to visit this area. Word of mouth is that it is hiking and rock climbing heaven. To date, this was the most picturesque part of the tour, and arriving to the Czech Republic only brought smiles.
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The day has come: I am finally getting ready to start my journey. With recent events in Nice, France, and the long-term fallout from Turkey’s attempted coup unsettled, I am embarking with an uneasy feeling: Europe appears to be under attack from multiple fronts. The aftershocks of Brexit are still reverberating across the continent, challenging European unity, which is already under strain due to the largest refugee crisis since WWII arriving on Europe’s shores. The Nice attack comes with previous Paris and Brussels terrorist attacks still fresh in people’s minds. A Pew Opinion poll, which shortly predates these recent events, revealed that for a substantial portion of Europeans, the question of refugees is increasingly mixed with fears of terrorism: in 8 out of 10 European countries surveyed, the majority of people indicated that they fear that more refugees will increase terrorism. Thhis increases the likelihood that these people won't welcome more refugee assistance: humans facing existential threats rarely extend empathy to the bearers of perceived danger. Now political instability in Turkey, a NATO member, and a key partner for Europe, will threaten a sense of stability further. It remains to be seen how it will affect the EU-Turkey refugee agreement. With this agreement, the EU arranged to repatriate refugees back to Turkey, in exchange for granting Turkey greater access to the EU. Turkey hosts nearly 3 million Syrian refugees, many of whom hope to reach Europe. The deal is already under strain: to what degree Europe can ship refugees out without violating their own human rights law standards is questionable. Additionally, this would involve the build-up of a considerable bureaucracy, which would take time. Turkey’s gained perks, such as visa-free travel, require Turkey’s respect for democratic rights. Now, concerned observers fear that the coup will further Erdogan’s authoritarian tendencies. Without the promised benefits, Turkey is unlikely to acquiesce to the terms of the arrangement. Despite the uncertainty, for now Angela Markel insists the deal is still on. As I get ready to pedal across parts of Europe, I am worried about how the sense of insecurity will affect the mood, and especially how that will translate into Europe’s reaction to the thousands of desperate people arriving in hopes of safe harbor. Within this heavy context, I also wanted to take a moment, and reflect on the journey I am about to take. This will be the most ambitious personal research project yet. Per consequence, worries and insecurities often rear their heads. This will be the longest journey I have cycled alone, and the first through countries, with which I am not familiar. Operating frequently within the framework of large institutions, I am embarking on a personal research project with much fewer resources: I was nervous about approaching experts and advocates and requesting their precious time for a mere blogger. Most difficult for me was asking for the support of strangers and friends to fund this endeavor: a humble person at the core, for me, asking for people’s attention and support feels deeply uncomfortable. The combination of risks and discomfort made for many a sleepless night. My only remedy has been my resolve is to do my very best and remain as nuanced and curious as possible in my exploration. So why do this journey then? Why push my personal, physical and professional boundaries in one project? I feel tremendous empathy for the refugees, who are fleeing Syria and wars we appear to think less off: Iraq, Afghanistan, Somalia, South Sudan, and Nigeria (a country, where I visited camps of displaced people.) But how the debate about the migrants will play out on Europe’s shores also feels personal: Growing up as a child of Polish migrants in Germany, I was impacted by the attitudes people held of migrants and diversity. As a child I internalized some of the negative attitudes towards non-Germans. Only with time, I disentangled the messiness, and fully embraced both the parts of German culture I loved together and parts of Polish culture, of which I am proud. Perhaps my own status as a child of two cultures made me more sensitive to those of similar fates: in the years since, living in 5 European countries, and the U.S., much of my working life has focused on minority rights and institutional protections of human rights and social inclusion. I grew to value the commitment I saw across many European countries to the welfare state, human dignity, and democracy- including restraint and oversight of institutions such as the police. I grew to love the burgeoning multi-culturalism I did witness. The Brexit may have been inspired in part by animosity towards the Poles. Yet, now, in Germany, hardly anyone thinks of me as a migrant anymore. In a paradox, in my living memory, Europe by force of globalization has grown simultaneously more accustomed to diversity and witnessed the rise of right-wing groups and mainstream xenophobia. Now, under strain, both appear more acute: “the refugee crisis has brought into sharp relief deep ideological divides over views of minorities and diversity.” Through this journey, I hope to assess, how and to what extent this manifests across the various countries, As I get ready to embark on this journey, I am deeply grateful for the support I have received to date! I have encountered wonderful feedback, and constructive and engaging criticism. People have volunteered their time and funds to help me do this. The list of people, to whom I feel indebted, is long. I want to personally mention at least a few: I am incredibly grateful to Chuck Harney and the wonderful mechanics at The Bike Rack, who made sure my bike is in the best shape it could be as a gift of good will: it’s with pride I will wear the beautiful jersey on my travels. Thank you to Kip Radt and the fabulous Kip Radt photograhy for the fantastic video, which tells the story of this project better than my writing could. I am deeply grateful to Alyssum Pohl from Paddle On, blogger and conscientious explorer herself, who has been an incredible resource for courage and planning. Finally, I want to thank the many members of the wonderful Humanity in Action network, which has opened doors to experts and advocates in the many cities. As I embark, I will try to the degree possible write at least short updates. Stay tuned!
Syrian Refugees Have Made Me Cry the Tears I Never Shed for MyselfWatching and listening to my Syrian brothers and sisters on the news, I cried the tears I should have shed many years ago on the Guinean border. Like my late father, I wake up every morning to BBC news, and the headline for the past couple of weeks have been about the Syrians running away from their country and seeking refuge in Europe. Every morning I listen to the interviews, the pain in their voices, and the hopelessness of their situation. Behind these people is war and in front of them are other human beings who look at their supplicating faces and reject their pleads for refuge, a place to lay their heads away from the war at home. In my personal experience as a child who many years ago left his father standing in the jungle across the Makona river in Liberia, between refuge in Guinean and advancing rebels, because Guineans refused to let refugees into their country, I know the pain one feels getting stuck in the middle of war and refuge. As neighbors, we never imagined Guineans would close their border at a time when Sierra Leoneans and Liberians needed safety, but that is exactly how it happened in 1994 as thousands of Liberians escaped rebels. The Guineans eventually allowed the women and children who could make their way across the Makona river to enter their country, but our fathers were abandoned to tropical diseases and possible slaughter by rebels until the UNHCR asserted pressure on the Guinean government to accept the men. My father made it across, but he died soon afterwards from unknown causes. I live my life believing that the immediate cause of his death was the days of exposure in the jungle along the Makona river. I have never told this story, but I cannot resist the urge to reveal my feelings as I hear the voices of stranded Syrian children and look in their eyes on my television. In the sufferings of the mothers I see my own mother as my siblings and I clung to her shoulders to get across the river, each of us constantly looking back to take one last glimpse of our father who, even in that misery, seemed happy to see his loved ones swimming to safety. That sight of us may have been the only joy that kept my father resilient at the time. All I want Europe to know is that under normal circumstances most people do not want to leave their country, the familiar safety of community, and the convenience of routine, to knock at the door of others who do not want them there. My father was a man confident in his ability to take care of his family until lunatics both in Liberia and Sierra Leone forced us to flee in search of refuge. We never expected that our neighbors would abandon us to bloodthirsty rebels. In those days, quite like many Syrian children now, I knew nothing about the 1951 Refugee Convention that should have protected us and should protect Syrians now. But if nothing else, how could humanity look in the eyes of other members of their species running away from catastrophe and insist that there is no room for them. Many of the desperate people we see would have never left their homes if not for the fact that those homes are no longer inhabitable for peace-loving people. I commend all ordinary Europeans who have opened their doors and offered relief to the refugees. Blessed are you, for you are the guardians of the earth! Who are the migrants and how do they arrive in Europe? I wanted to write at least one post that gives outsiders an overview of the current migration trends, which are affecting Europe. Many of us are moved by the pictures of the migrants risking their lives off Italy’s coast, arriving in small dingy boats across the Aegean Sea and crossing the Morocco border into Spain. As Europe is building more and more fences, and battling over a response, I wanted to take a moment to outline, who is arriving, and what arduous routes are these migrants taking. Clarity on this matter is important because it gives context to the European policies and responses, which I hope to explore in this blog. The majority of Europe’s migrants are refugees The vast majority of migrants arriving in Europe are fleeing war torn areas, and can thus be described as forcible displaced people or refugees. Over 80% of the migrants arriving in Europe are fleeing countries, which are plagued by conflict, general violence and insecurity, or repressive regimes, which violate the human rights of its citizens. Syrians, Afghans and Iraqis make up the largest groups. The next biggest group arriving on Europe's shores are migrants fleeing war-affected Somalia, Sudan, South Sudan, Libya, and Nigeria and repressive Eritrea The arrival of these people forced from their home in Europe is part of sad global trends: In fact, to give some perspective, one in every 122 people in the world is currently either a refugee, internally displaced or seeking asylum. I highlight these statistics, because often the term migrant refers to various situation: economic migration, referring to migrants in search for better job prospects; mixed migration, referring to those, who may be fleeing a combination of violence and nonviable livelihoods, and finally, forced displacement, referring to those fleeing violence. All of the above are arriving in Europe, and the vast majority arriving are indeed refugees. In a future post, I will explore how this distinction matters in terms of legal status. Europe is the closest wealthy, stable and accessible region to the aforementioned conflicts. Currently, around 75 million international migrants are thought to live in Europe, and the movement towards the continent is unlikely to abate any time soon: in addition to the protracted conflicts, growing global inequalities and unpredictable weather pattern are undermining livelihoods in many areas. 2015 was a momentous year in this movement of people towards Europe: Frontex, Europe’s border agency, recorded a record 1.8 million unauthorized border crossings and 1 million asylum seekers. This was six-fold increase from the prior year. Sadly, 2015 was also the deadliest year for migrants: according to the International Organization for Migration, 3,700 migrants died crossing the Mediterranean in attempts to reach Europe last year alone. Africa and the Middle East, not Europe host the majority of migrants As I will dive into the European crisis, I want to underline that Africa and the Middle East still host most of the displaced people: in fact, Europe hosts only about 6% of the world’s forcibly displaced people. In contrast, much more resource-constraint Africa and the Middle East host 29% and 39% of people displaced by horrific events. With much of the news focusing on migrants off Europe’s shore, this fact is often forgotten. To exemplify this further, I want to highlight the small country of Lebanon: according to 2015 UNHCR figures, Lebanon hosts the most refugees in the world per capital at 232, which accounts for more than a fifth of its population. Next up are Jordan, Nauru, Chad, Djibouti, South Sudan and only then Turkey, bordering Europe. It is worth noting that most of these countries do not have the resources that would match the current refugee crisis.
The majority of Europe’s migrants arrive through three sea routes To arrive in Europe, nearly 60 percent of migrants take three sea routes, with the rest opting for various land routes through the Balkans. Just so far this year, over two hundred thousand desperate migrants have risked their lives to reach Europe by sea. The three sea routes are the Central Mediterranean route, which runs from North Africa to Italy or Malta; the Eastern Mediterranean route, which goes through Turkey to Eastern Greece, southern Bulgaria, or Cyprus; and to a lesser degree the Western Mediterranean route to Spain. The Migration Policy Institute wrote a detailed blog post, on the trends along each route, and determined that a “complex web of often interconnected factors including border control and immigration policies; changes in the origins of the flows; weather patterns; evolving conditions in origin, transit, and destination countries; and adaptations to any or all of the above by smuggling networks” affects the popularity of each route. The Italy Route – the most dangerous route The central Mediterranean route has the longest stretch of sea, which means it is the most dangerous way for migrants to arrive in Europe: the images of the migrants at risk of, and too often, drowning at sea off the coast of Italy showcase the dangers inherent to this route. The Central route was the most popular in 2013 and 2014- in 2014, more than 80 percent of the asylum seekers and migrants detected in Europe chose this route. Most of the migrants on this route come from sub-Saharan Africa, with a growing number of Syrians and North Africans joining them. Libya is the prime departure country, though Egypt and Tunisia are also departure ports. Around 3,000 migrants died in these seas both in 2013 and 2014. Due to complex interplay of factors, the Eastern Mediterranean route overtook the central one in mid-2015- perhaps a minor relief in the sense that the Eastern route is slightly safer. Unfortunately, likely inspired by the EU- Turkey agreement, as of spring 2016, the use of the dangerous Central route spiked again. Once in Italy, many migrants try to make their way into Europe- passing through the Alpine Brenner pass at the Italy-Austria border. This prompted the Austrian government’s plans to build a fence at the Austria – Italy border. Those plans sparked violent protests in Italy, and Austria and Italy are due to meet for diplomatic talks on the fate of the border. The Greek Route The Eastern route requires migrants to travel through Turkey to eastern Greece, southern Bulgaria, or Cyprus. This way (except for the Bulgaria route) entails a short sea crossing through the Aegean Sea. In 2015, Frontex detected more than 885,000 crossings along this route, propelling it to most traveled route by migrants. In the first half of 2015, more than 85 percent of migrants on this route came from war-torn countries, prime among them Syria, Afghanistan, Somalia, and Iraq. Additionally, an increasing number from sub-Saharan Africa are also arriving via this route. Once in Greece, most of the migrants continue their journeys north, leaving Greece through its border with Macedonia, and then on towards the Balkans and Hungary. It is those images of masses of Syrian refugees crossing the various borders into Europe, which the Brexit campaign utilized in fomenting xenophobia. The Eastern Mediterranean has been an important route for migrants for a significant time. In 2008-2009, Frontex notes, more than 40 000 people used this route to gain access to Europe, accounting for some 40% of all migrants arriving in the European Union. Turkey now sports an important people-smuggling industry in Turkey. The Spanish Route This route is proportionally less popular, but has seen migrants’ arrival for a decade now. Originally a route for economic migrants, recently, refugees from Sub-Saharan Africa’s wars are choosing this route: people fleeing northwards from conflicts in Mali, Sudan, South Sudan, Cameroon, Nigeria, Chad and the Central African Republic. In 2015, Syrians accounted for the biggest share of detections on this route. In order to get to Spain, Africans travel towards Morocco or Algeria via two land routes. One follows the West African coastline, preferred by migrants closer to Senegal and Mauritania; the shorter one crosses the Sahara, often traveled by nationals of countries further afield. Crossing the Sahara is dangerous: just last month, 34 migrants died trying to cross the Niger dessert, 20 of them children. Once the migrants arrive in Europe, they encounter patchwork of laws governing immigration and rescue, which I hope to explore in the next post.
For now, in 2016, the sad trends regarding the dangers of traveling to Europe continue: to date this year, 231,153 refugees arrived in Europe via the sea route, and nearly 3000 are dead or missing. 74% of those arriving in 2016 were from the world’s top ten refugee producing countries. As I keep on writing about the migrants and the European policy responses, I think grappling with the refugee reality is key: the majority of people affected by these policies are fleeing war and violence, risk their lives in the journey, and arrive exhausted and traumatized. The conflicts, which they are fleeing, are protracted, and political resolutions remains uncertain. As I dive into the journey of exploring European responses, at the policy and at the local level, I hope to keep this context central. |
AuthorThe thoughts of a passionate biker, migrant, humanist and human rights expert on the current migration waves in Europe. Archives
July 2017
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