The Aegean island of Leros has a tradition of hosting hard-pressed outsiders — from exiled opponents of Greece’s 1970s military junta to scores of mental patients at the country’s largest psychiatric asylum.
Beginning next week, the island is expecting to welcome a new group: the first of thousands of migrants who will pass through a new processing centre — known as a “hotspot” — that is meant to demonstrate the country’s renewed commitment to the EU’s migration policies.
“We’re working a third shift under floodlights to get everything ready,” says Makis Bakaras, the site supervisor, as he shows off neat rows of containers equipped with comfortable facilities for up to 1,000 people at the site, where migrants will be registered.
A concrete pad sprouting clusters of cables awaits a final delivery of containers to provide offices for half-a-dozen EU and Greek agencies handling the process. “The equipment’s already here, including the EU computer terminals for fingerprinting,” Mr Bakaras says.
Alexis Tsipras has ordered Greek officials to have the remaining hotspots up and running by an EU summit set for February 18, in hopes of heading off the expulsion threat over Schengen.
In a further conciliatory move, Athens has also agreed to patrols by Nato warships in the narrow strait used by people-smugglers between the Turkish coast and the east Aegean Islands. It is a particularly sensitive issue in Athens, which has long feared its claims of sovereignty in those waters being undermined by Ankara.
Leros received more than 35,000 migrants last year — and 4,000 in January alone. The island already has some necessary personnel on the ground and a record of helping new arrivals, with a local residents’ group, Solidarity Network for Leros, working alongside the UN High Commission for Refugees, as well as Greek and international charities, to provide accommodation for families and other services.
“In proportion to our [8,000-strong] population, we’ve taken care of more refugees than any other island,” says Matina Katsiveli, a retired magistrate and co-founder of Solidarity Network. “We’d been looking after smaller numbers of Iraqis and Afghans that had been arriving since the early 2000s. We didn’t panic when the Syrians started flooding in.”
The historical experience of the islanders is also a factor. Leros is a tight-knit community typical of the Aegean Islands off the main tourist track.
Many islanders are descendants of Greeks who left Turkey in a population exchange after a Greek military defeat in 1922, says Michalis Kolias, the mayor: “We know from our grandparents what being a refugee means.”
The main port, a sprawling former Italian naval base, remains a dilapidated monument to Benito Mussolini, Italy’s fascist dictator, and his dreams of naval domination in the Mediterranean. During the second world war a German aerial bombardment lasted more than 50 days before British and Italian forces surrendered.
Buildings that survived the bombing were patched up to serve as orphanages, training centres and hospitals as Greece struggled to rebuild after the war.
Ms Katsiveli’s group recently refurbished one disused orphanage as a centre for refugee families with children, using funds raised by volunteers in Greece and abroad.
“We’re able to offer ‘soft’ support for families — counselling, indoor and outdoor games spaces, supplies of milk and baby food — that won’t be available at the hotspot,” she says.
Rodrigo de la Barra, head of the UN team on Leros, expects the number reaching Greece from Turkey to reach 1m this year, with Leros expecting some 45,000 of those.
But even on Leros, islanders’ hospitality has its limits. Some fear its emerging tourist industry, with growing numbers of sailing yachts calling in and an increase in specialist history tours, could suffer if refugees continue to arrive in large numbers or stay longer than the three days allocated for registration.
