The Syrian Observatory For Human Rights

‘There is no future’: the refugees who became pawns in Erdoğan’s game

First the asylum seekers were used to further Turkey’s regional ambitions, now they are made to suffer in quarantine camps

Migrants run toward the buffer zone on the Turkey-Greece border at Pazarkule, 29 February 2020.
 Migrants approach the buffer zone on the Turkey-Greece border at Pazarkule, 29 February 2020. Photograph: Ozan Köse/AFP via Getty Images

At the beginning of March, thousands of refugees gathered in the shadow of the Pazarkule border gate in Turkey after President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan said he would “open the gate” to Europe.

The move was a reaction to the killing of 33 Turkish soldiers in Idlib province on 28 February and designed to exert pressure on the EU and Nato to support its military operation in northern Syria.

Many boarded buses to Pazarkule – some organised by Turkish authorities from Istanbul – others walked. People gave up homes they’d been renting and sold whatever belongings they had left.

Rima, a 45-year-old Syrian former nurse who documented the atrocities of the regime in a field hospital in Daraa, packed up what she owned, left her rented accommodation and paid 500 Turkish lira (£56) to get to Pazarkule. She hoped to find a way into Europe and on to Switzerland where her sister is a political refugee.

When she arrived, however, she quickly realised the closed borders meant she was simply part of a bigger game by the Turkish government. “I understood we were being used,” she says.

Greek forces used tear gas and stun grenades to repel people trying to cross. Turkey claims 150,000 people crossed the land and sea borders during this period while Greece puts the official numbers at fewer than 3,500.

In the following weeks, Rima and the thousands who remained in Pazarkule went from one nightmare to another as the coronavirus outbreak gripped Europe. On the night of 26 March, Turkish forces burned the tents of those living in the makeshift migrant camp and forced them on to buses, driving them thousands of miles across the country to quarantine camps.

Lighthouse Reports followed Rima and 29 others on their journeys from Pazarkule: tracking and verifying testimonies through apps, live streams and social media updates.

The investigation has shown how, after leaving the quarantine camps, some people ended up on the streets of Izmir. Others, including children, were put into a detention facility in Ankara. Some of the Syrians have been threatened with deportation to “safe zones” in northern Syria. These people are what remains of Turkey’s “leverage” over the EU. Their stories are just a handful of those who risked and lost much at the European border in March.

Syrian refugees living in the bus terminal at Izmir in west Turkey, 14 April 2020.
Syrian refugees living in the bus terminal at Izmir, western Turkey, 14 April 2020. Photograph: Emre Tazegul/Depo Photos via ZUMA Wire/REX/Shutterstock

After Rima watched her tent burn she was taken to a quarantine camp in Malatya. She estimates that she was one of about 2,300 people bussed more than 1,000km (620 miles) away from the border on the eastern side of Turkey. They had no choice but to go, she says: “[Turkish forces] threatened us with weapons.”

Rima says that there was minimal food provision and medical care in Malatya. They were finally released from quarantine on 16 April and dropped off in the north-eastern Trabzon province. A group of 50, including Rima, who had no money for onward travel were then picked up by local authorities and taken to a detention facility in Ankara 800km away.

Videos she shared show women screaming and children crying as they arrive at the facility. Rima says everyone initially refused to get off the bus when they realised they were about to be detained again.

“They treated us like detainees and criminals,” she says. She managed to keep her phone although others had theirs taken away. “I could communicate and document what people suffered in this prison.” Photos she shared show babies and children sitting on bunk beds. They went on hunger strike in protest at the conditions and Rima says there was no milk formula for the babies.

“It’s your president who announced to us that the borders are open, your president! You encouraged us to leave, you were telling us to push on the Greek gate and that it won’t open without pressure,” Rima shouted through the locked door of her room.

After five days they were released. Rima had lost the house she had been renting in Konya after missing a payment.

Rima cannot return to Syria because of her previous media activities. She is also worried about being deported to “safe zones” that Turkey has established in northern Syria. She fears these zones will be in the hands of the regime in the near future. “Why should I trust Erdoğan’s promises to create safe zones in Syria after all we have seen from the Turkish state?” she asks.

Ömer Faruk Gergerlioğlu, an MP from the People’s Democratic Party and a member of the Human Rights Commission in Turkey, told the Guardian that refugees at Pazarkule had been used as political pawns.

Migrants gather at Turkey’s Pazarkule border crossing, February 29, 2020.
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Migrants gather at Turkey’s Pazarkule border crossing, 29 February 2020. Photograph: Huseyin Aldemir/Reuters

“Thousands of people were flooded to the border as a political leverage or blackmailing material,” he says. Gergerlioğlu witnessed some of the events at Pazarkule in his capacity as a member of the Human Rights Commission. He said the threat to open the borders to refugees is the “Achilles heel of the west”.

“Erdoğan is a pragmatist politician,” he said. “Those people who died, [were] wounded, became miserable, lost their belongings, are just casualties for Erdoğan. He can construct such a game again.”

Ibrahim*, 41, is another Syrian who tried his luck at Pazarkule. He used to paint walls in the rural areas outside the city of Latakia and was imprisoned in 2016 after being accused of delivering medical equipment to rebels.

Erdoğan’s announcement gave Ibrahim hope he might be able to join his wife, who had made the journey to Germany while he was in prison.

Ibhrahim was robbed of his belongings near Pazarkule by a gang of six people. After an unsuccessful attempt to cross they went to the makeshift camp at Pazarkule. “We fell into silence and here another form of suffering began,” he says.

When the quarantine was announced, he was forced on a bus. “They forced us with batons to give up our dream and get on the bus, after they lied to us that we will return after the end of the quarantine period,” he said. He was then taken to an old university dormitory in Edirne where he had to give up his phone.

The food in this makeshift quarantine facility was minimal. “We called it samples,” he says. People in quarantine were threatened with deportation and beaten by Turkish authorities after a protest at the conditions, he says. “My friend is still suffering from injuries on his hand.”

Ibrahim says he has spent about $1,700 (£1,380) and exhausted nearly all his finances on the attempt to cross the border into Europe.

Asylum seekers wait to enter Greece at Pazarkule
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Asylum seekers in their makeshift camp wait to enter Greece at Pazarkule border crossing, 6 March 2020. Photograph: Elif Ozturk/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images

Even after their quarantine, the refugees who had been at Pazarkule found themselves in the middle of political game-playing. Unverified stories appeared in Greek media at the beginning of April suggesting that Turkey was planning to send Covid-19 positive migrants to Europe. One story in Greek newspaper Kathimerini was headlined: “Turkey pushing Covid-infected migrants to cross into Greece, officials believe.”

Similar articles appeared in Greek media outlets ERT, Mega TV, Ethnos and Proto Thema. Proto Thema used a screenshot from the video of Mohammad, a refugee from Hamah province. This was presented without context to bolster claims that refugees with coronavirus were gathering at the border. Mohammad’s video, however, had a caption which explained that everyone he was with had just been released from quarantine and did not have coronavirus. Mohammad, who does not want his full name used, has never had the virus.

For those who tried and failed to get to Europe at the Pazarkule border gate, the future is unknown. Rima is now homeless and staying with friends in Ankara. She cannot envisage earning enough money to build a life there and fears deportation to northern Syria. “There is no future, no protection, or hope,” she says.

For Ibrahim, staying with friends in Istanbul, Pazarkule is representative of the peace and security he and so many Syrian refugees have so far been denied. “This is just how one of the attempts in our search for a life with dignity has been aborted,” he says. “For me this is the story of Pazarkule.”

The Guardian contacted representatives in the Turkish Health Ministry to clarify details about the evacuation of Pazarkule, the camps and the Covid-19 response but received no reply.

By Katy Fallon and Ans Boersma

The views expressed in this article do not necessarily reflect the views and editorial stance of the SOHR.

Source: ‘There is no future’: the refugees who became pawns in Erdoğan’s game | Global development | The Guardian