{"id":9203,"date":"2024-01-17T06:05:52","date_gmt":"2024-01-17T05:05:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/nccr-onthemove.ch\/blog\/?p=9203"},"modified":"2024-01-17T06:02:29","modified_gmt":"2024-01-17T05:02:29","slug":"lampedusa-thinking-outside-the-border","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/nccr-onthemove.ch\/blog\/lampedusa-thinking-outside-the-border\/","title":{"rendered":"Lampedusa: Thinking Outside the Border"},"content":{"rendered":"

Last summer, the Southern Mediterranean coast \u2013 and the Italian island of Lampedusa \u2013 gained significant media attention due to the arrival of numerous migrants on its shores. <\/strong>The Mediterranean<\/strong> Sea, seen as one of the most dangerous in the world<\/strong>, and Lampedusa <\/strong>are now recognized as Europe<\/strong>\u2019s primary border<\/strong>s by many<\/strong>. But what does it truly mean to be the EU<\/strong>\u2019s primary border, and what are the implications<\/strong> of such a role? <\/strong>\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Lampedusa is often used as an example in migration literature reflecting the dynamics of the \u201cbusiness of migration,\u201d but what does this actually mean? Lampedusa\u2019s crisis of migration has created an enterprise involving state officials, the police, humanitarian workers, and others urgently responding to the challenges of migration flows. This enterprise has gained momentum since Lampedusa is seen as the EU border par excellence with the emergence of a hotspot contributing to economic growth and an increase in tourism, mainly due to its greater visibility in the news.<\/p>\n

Despite its economic growth, Lampedusa is paradoxical, as it is thriving on tourism, while constructed in such a way that tourists and migrants never meet. Bordering processes can be seen through different infrastructures such as separate ports for migrants and tourists, and the hotspot located in the midst of the mountains, hidden from tourists\u2019 views.<\/p>\n

In addition, the limited interaction among tourists, locals, and migrants is evident, as migrants, who are only temporarily located on the island, are soon relocated to Sicily\u2019s Porto Empedocle. Lampedusa\u2019s paradoxes increase as it is experiencing economic growth due to mass tourism, while basic necessities, such as water, are still lacking. It is an island of stark contrasts: a tourist haven, where the Italian state is simultaneously breaching human rights by hosting migrants in a hotspot far beyond its capacity.<\/p>\n

Search and Rescue Zones in the Mediterranean Sea<\/h5>\n

Since 2014, over 25\u2019000 people have died in the Mediterranean Sea, recognized as the most dangerous border and migratory route in the world. Humanitarian non-governmental organizations operate in these waters to rescue boats in distress and save migrants at sea. However, widespread confusion exists regarding how these NGOs operate.<\/p>\n

Simone, who participated in missions aboard Doctors Without Borders\u2019 Geobarents boat, explained that NGOs operate in international waters, beyond the twenty-four nautical miles within the Search and Rescue (SAR) zones. SAR zones are areas where states are obliged to rescue boats in distress. In the central Mediterranean, three SARs exist: the Italian, Libyan and Maltese.<\/p>\n

The Libyan SAR zone, established through the 2017 Memorandum of Understanding between Libya and Italy, raises ethical concerns. NGOs, cautious of Libya\u2019s status as an unsafe third state, refrain from involving Libyan authorities. Interestingly, the European Border and Coast Guard Agency, Frontex, remains the only actor consistently calling Libyan authorities to report distress.<\/p>\n

On the other hand, there is a wealth of evidence of Malta ignoring distress signals in its SAR zone. Currently, Italy stands as the only actor effectively fulfilling its international duties within its SAR zone. This is an example of how, in international waters, jurisdictions and responsibilities become at times voluntarily blurred. NGOs’ experiences offer an essential perspective of how borders in the Mediterranean Sea are far from clear-cut. At national, EU and international levels, little has been done to reduce ambiguities or enforce accountability among the various actors involved.<\/p>\n

Distress<\/h5>\n

To determine when NGOs should intervene and rescue the people on board, the concept of \u201cdistress\u201d plays a crucial role. Defining \u201cdistress\u201d in the context of migrant boats involves specific criteria, with overcrowding being persistent in this particular route. Other important indicators include the presence of children and pregnant women, as well as broken engines.<\/p>\n

While these criteria might seem abstract, Simone, drawing from his experience in the Mediterranean, describes what distress means to him: \u201cDistress is the smell of gasoline that lingers on you. Distress is the people that you rescue drugged by the gasoline they smelled throughout their journey.\u201d The smell of gasoline does indeed serve as an indicator revealing both the dire conditions of the boat and the hardships endured by its occupants. These boats, marked by the distress criteria from the outset, were never meant to reach the set destination.<\/p>\n

The Migrant<\/h5>\n

Migrants, central to these experiences and the ones being rescued at sea, often find themselves represented in mere statistics, collectivized. We struggle to find the stories of human beings on the move, each with their fears, hopes and potential. The representation of migrants as individuals has recently sparked debate, mainly in the media but also in the research world. A crucial question emerges: How can migrants be consulted and given a voice? Simone and I reflected on an important point: beyond giving migrants a voice, we need to prepare and educate receiving societies to listen to it.<\/p>\n

In fact, it can be extremely complicated in many receiving societies to challenge the mainstream image of passive migrants accepting whatever might come their way, perpetuating a narrow narrative of suffering. Alternative narratives of migrants, even those reflecting joy, frustration or anger \u2013 \u00a0can trigger negative reactions. For instance, the idea that migrants, especially those rescued in Lampedusa, should simply be grateful to be alive and not ask for more is deeply ingrained. Simone\u2019s observations underscore that showing a migrant celebrating or dancing on social media can elicit negative reactions, reinforcing the collective expectation that a migrant should remain quiet and desperate after escaping death, war, exploitation and\/or persecution.<\/p>\n

Deconstructing this victim narrative is a collective effort, challenging the misconception that migrants should passively accept their fate. A monomeric portrayal, limiting migrants to tragic roles, denies them the right to rediscover joy despite their tragic pasts. Reflecting on these narratives is crucial to fostering a more accurate and compassionate understanding of migrants as multifaceted individuals deserving of empathy and respect.<\/p>\n

The Volunteer<\/h5>\n

On the other hand, the media and the public often turn to volunteers for insights on migration routes, migrants’ conditions and border situation. Critical literature underlines how, in border contexts like Lampedusa, these volunteers highlight the global inequalities in mobilities evident in the migration enterprise. The increase in migration coupled with the growing tourism industry, highlights the inequalities in mobility. In addition, the focus on volunteers has sparked controversy, perpetuating a narrative that portrays Europeans as saviors.<\/p>\n

Despite the attention they receive, it is important to note that volunteers and humanitarian workers face their share of criticism, especially on social media, for their affiliations and their daily tasks. Reflecting on this potential controversy, we acknowledge that volunteers might indeed engage in their roles as a form of egoism, a way to feel impactful in the face of injustice and assert that they did the right thing. However, if, specifically, volunteering is indeed a form of egoism, and perhaps egocentrism, it is the most commendable form of it.<\/p>\n

It is also important to recognize that these workers have chosen their profession driven by mixed motives, including egoistic ones. As a result, their actions, while not exclusively altruistic, play a vital role in saving lives that would otherwise be lost.<\/p>\n

While it is essential to reflect on how volunteers in border roles may unintentionally reproduce mobility inequalities, it is equally crucial to understand that they are contributing to reducing these inequalities \u2013 a tangible impact in saving lives.<\/p>\n

Bordering Processes on EU Borders<\/h5>\n

Borders in Lampedusa and the Mediterranean Sea manifest in different ways. At sea, we mostly witness an attempt to blur frontiers, whereas the island of Lampedusa reveals clearly defined and evident borders. The shaping of these borders involves both physical elements, such as specific geographical choices, and institutional aspects based on specific policy choices. Beyond these manifestations, bordering processes also extend into our daily discourses around borders, migration and migrants. These narratives are powerful in creating an image of how borders and migrants should look like.<\/p>\n

In this context, the action and activism of humanitarian workers and volunteers become paramount in fostering a deeper understanding.\u00a0 Engaging with the border contexts can help us reflect on what these borders represent, what they comprise, and how they have evolved through history. The involvement of humanitarian workers and volunteers becomes a catalyst for contemplating these complex contexts and questioning the narratives that have shaped them.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Illustration \u00a9 Copyright Arianna Sisani.<\/p>\n

\n

*<\/strong>This blog post was inspired by a discussion with Simone Gavazzi<\/a>, a human rights activist and editor at Penshare, which took place during a knowledge transfer event I organized through nccr with the help of Alessandra Polidori, researcher at the Swiss Forum for Migration, at Isola, La Cantine Litteraire, in Paris. We would like to thank Guido Aloia for giving us this space to transfer knowledge and allow people to engage in this crucial topic.<\/p>\n

Anna Marino<\/a>\u00a0is a Doctoral researcher at the\u00a0nccr \u2013 on the move<\/a>, the University of Neuch\u00e2tel working on the project \u201cNarratives of Crisis and Their Influence in Shaping Discourses and Policies of Migration and Mobility,<\/a>\u201d which aims to better understand the role of crisis narratives in the context of human mobility governance.<\/em><\/p>\n

References:<\/p>\n

-Cuttitta, P. (2014). Borderizing\u2019the island setting and narratives of the Lampedusa \u2018border play. ACME: An International Journal for Critical Geographies<\/em>,\u00a013<\/em>(2), 196-219.
\n-Di Matteo, G. (2023). Resistance or exclusion? The paradoxes of volunteer tourism, migration, and memorialization nexuses. Tourism Geographies<\/em>, 1-17.
\n-Fontana G. (2021, April 15). La Migliore Forma di Egoismo. Il Post.
\n<\/em>-Santini S. & Andr\u00e9 G. (2020). Ego\u00efste. M\u00e9decins Sans Fronti\u00e8res.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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