Europe’s Gates Close: Greece as a Testing Ground for a New Migration Policy

Europe’s Gates Close: Greece as a Testing Ground for a New Migration Policy

From Solidarity to Surveillance

Ten years have passed since the refugee crisis of 2015, and the island of Lesbos has been and continues to be a symbol of this social and humanitarian situation. From the early years of discussions about solidarity with the war in Syria, to today, with Europe changing its stance and shifting to a strategy of deterrence.

Amina Namjogian, a woman who arrived on the island fleeing Iran with her child in her arms, remembers the grandmothers who fed foreign babies with bottles and the fishermen who saved lives at the risk of their own. Her arrival in Greece was followed by her stay at the Reception and Identification Center (RIC); she learned Greek and then emigrated to Germany, eventually returning to the island, where she now cooks Iranian dishes in a small restaurant, while her child, who is growing up with her, declares himself to be ‘Greek.’ The Lesbos that welcomed her back then bears little resemblance to today. The camps of that time, unorganised, dirt-floored and with tents, now resemble an Orwellian landscape where the camps are made of metal containers with cameras, barbed wire and guards. Europe no longer invites, it controls. And Greece, with its new legislation and threats of detention for rejected asylum seekers, is paving the way for a future of migration that is more punitive than protective (1);(5);(4).

The Mirror Island of Europe

In recent years, the European Union’s migration policy has shifted significantly from a fragmented, humanitarian approach to a strictly security-based and deterrent model. This change accelerated after the 2015 crisis, which exposed the weaknesses of the Common European Asylum System and fuelled the rise of xenophobic and far-right narratives. With increasing pressure from nationalist movements, even centrist governments adopted tougher rhetoric, leading to the adoption of the new Pact on Migration and Asylum in 2024. This pact aims to speed up border procedures, expand the use of closed structures, and impose a ‘solidarity’ mechanism, either through the relocation of asylum seekers or through financial compensation. However, critics argue that the emphasis on border control undermines the rights of refugees and may exacerbate human rights violations without effectively curbing migration flows (8), (9), (10).

At the same time, the EU has strengthened its strategy of externalising migration control to third countries of transit, offering financial and diplomatic incentives to prevent migrants from crossing before they reach European territory. Agreements with Libya, Turkey, Tunisia and other countries have effectively delegated the interception, detention and deportation of migrants to regimes or armed groups with a questionable human rights record. This externalisation has reinforced the creation of detention camps, the development of surveillance technologies and the militarisation of borders, increasingly involving private security and defence technology companies. Despite these investments, migration has not been substantially reduced, while the risks for migrants themselves have increased, reinforcing authoritarian practices in ‘partner’ countries. The overall shift in policy indicates a Europe that views human mobility as a threat rather than a complex challenge requiring a structural and long-term response (8), (9), (10).

During 2015–2016, more than one million refugees and migrants passed through Greece, half of them via Lesbos. Images of boats filled with people wearing orange life jackets covering the beach and residents distributing food and water marked the collective memory and were seen around the world. People such as Stratos Valamios, a fisherman by profession, became symbols when they rescued drowning children, while at the same time holding in their arms the bodies of people who could not be saved. The walls of taverns are still covered with thank-you cards, but something has changed (1).

The spirit of the residents now oscillates between disappointment and open opposition to whatever may come. Of course, this change did not come suddenly. The Moria Reception and Identification Centre, known for its overcrowding, lack of basic infrastructure and constant fires, was completely destroyed by fire in 2020. This was followed by the temporary camp at Kara Tepe, which was also characterised by shortcomings, although it was clearly more organised. Replacing these is now the “final solution”, which envisages a strategically isolated, fully controlled, EU-funded centre that seeks not to welcome, but to manage, monitor and discourage (1); (2); (6).

In a deserted area with pine and olive trees, one of the largest European reception centres is being set up: the Closed Controlled Access Centre of Vastra. This new camp, capable of accommodating up to 5,000 people, is more reminiscent of a prison than a reception centre. The project is almost complete, but remains closed pending a decision by the Council of State, following appeals by residents, environmental organisations and local authorities, who allege violations of legislation and a high risk of fire. Lesbos is becoming the testing ground for new European policies (1); (2);(7).

During 2015–2016, more than one million refugees and migrants passed through Greece, half of them via Lesbos. Images of boats filled with people wearing orange life jackets covering the beach and residents distributing food and water marked the collective memory and were seen around the world. People such as Stratos Valamios, a fisherman by profession, became symbols when they rescued drowning children, while at the same time holding in their arms the bodies of people who could not be saved. The walls of taverns are still covered with thank-you cards, but something has changed (1).

The spirit of the residents now oscillates between disappointment and open opposition to whatever may come. Of course, this change did not come suddenly. The Moria Reception and Identification Centre, known for its overcrowding, lack of basic infrastructure and constant fires, was completely destroyed by fire in 2020. This was followed by the temporary camp at Kara Tepe, which was also characterised by shortcomings, although it was clearly more organised. Replacing these is now the “final solution”, which envisages a strategically isolated, fully controlled, EU-funded centre that seeks not to welcome, but to manage, monitor and discourage (1); (2); (6).

In a deserted area with pine and olive trees, one of the largest European reception centres is being set up: the Closed Controlled Access Centre of Vastra. This new camp, capable of accommodating up to 5,000 people, is more reminiscent of a prison than a reception centre. The project is almost complete, but remains closed pending a decision by the Council of State, following appeals by residents, environmental organisations and local authorities, who allege violations of legislation and a high risk of fire. Lesbos is becoming the testing ground for new European policies (1); (2);(7).

Samos as a Warning

On Samos, a few nautical miles from the Turkish coast, the European Union has invested in a new generation of structures that promise “dignified reception conditions” but result in rights violations. The Closed Controlled Access Centre (CCAC) in Zervou operates with restrictive measures of liberty (ROFs) that lead to systematic and arbitrary detention of people, without individual assessment. New arrivals, including children, elderly people, pregnant women and people with medical problems, are detained in predetermined ‘quarantine zones’ –  often without a formal detention order or with orders issued retroactively (6).

In July 2024, an Amnesty International report described the conditions at the CCAC as prolonged arbitrary detention that violates EU and international law. The facilities are overcrowded: 500 unaccompanied minors live in a space designed for 200. Many sleep on the floor, on cardboard or without blankets. The bathrooms are broken, the pipes are exposed, and access to hygiene, clothing or medical care is severely lacking. Although the European Commission has expressed ‘concerns’ about the compatibility of ROFs with European law, it has not proceeded with the infringement proceedings it initiated in 2023 (6).

The European Ombudsman herself emphasised in 2022 that the Commission has a ‘responsibility to ensure that EU funding does not contribute to human rights violations’. But today, Samos functions as a simulation of the Migration and Asylum Pact: mass detention, restriction of freedom and systemic impoverishment behind a European facade. The example of Samos is not isolated – it is an early warning sign of where European policy is heading when security takes precedence over dignity (6); (3).

When the Gate Becomes a Mirror

Lesbos, Samos, Crete – these are not just geographical points of first entry. They are political borders, moral boundaries, and mirrors of Europe in 2025. Ten years after the “crisis of 2015,” the initial sense of urgent solidarity has been replaced by a technocratic and repressive approach: closed structures, restrictive decrees, mass detentions, severe penalties for the very act of moving. The new Pact on Migration and Asylum, which will come into force in 2026, risks cementing this model — which we are already seeing in operation in Greece (1); (5); (6)

By funding projects such as the CCACs on Samos and Lesbos, and tolerating practices such as the systematic criminalisation of refugees in Crete, the European Union is shaping a new framework: a deterrence mechanism that resembles less a protection policy and more an exclusion infrastructure. The case of Samos is not an exception, but a test tube. The conviction of Sudanese youths without sufficient evidence is not a ‘mistake,’ but a symptom. And Bastiani, isolated, fenced off and inaccessible, is not an accident of location — it is a strategy of visible disappearance (6); (7)

In this landscape, Europe seems to be losing its compass. If the new migration system is transformed into a mechanism of mass detention, exclusion and punishment, then the very values on which the Union is founded are at stake. The right to asylum cannot be turned into an exception, nor can movement be turned into a crime. Europe’s gates do not have to be fortresses. They can also be bridges of responsibility and freedom — if we choose them to be (6); (7); (1).